Have you ever lived in society a where you were the token black child? Where everything black, everything African was associated, related to you and your Africanness? That as a ‘black person’ you should know “rap” songs, know how to dance and run fast?

Well, I was never the cool black kid or a basketball fanatic. I could not sing. I wasn’t particularly fussy about fashion. I was not crazy about fried chicken and nor did I like watermelon. But that did not stop the jokes or the assumption that I should or do love or like those things.

I did not fit into a stereotype of what a black person should be. Nor did I conform to the typical “African” girl in the context of the outside Africa world either. So I was called“Oreo” one or two times.

I was a young fragile girl trying to seduce my academic work to love me so that at least I would be comforted with the idea of “oh she’s the smart black girl”. But even with that, I felt I was mediocre. I never felt I excelled at anything of importance. And mind you, this was all in my head.

These all stemmed from me being weakened by the fact that when I first got into the Western system, I couldn’t speak or write proper English. So they dropped me down to “help me cope” with the system better. That took my confidence level down to about 60%. I moved again, and unfortunately this time, I had to be moved down a year again because it was grade 10 and everyone was preparing for (I)GCSE exams that I was not “familiar” with. My confidence, my self-esteem, all the spunk I could have had and developed just flunked to 30%.

Here I was in an environment where everyone in my perception was remarkably intelligent, sophisticated and young. I always felt stupid, naive and old.

So I never tried. I never took part in anything because I felt that I would just embarrass myself; that was something I internalized.

I never gave a dissenting opinion. I never challenged or faced my fears. I was scared, and being afraid became my comfort zone. And I was really good at running away from all that could bring out my potential. That was me growing up.

Now the African child goes back to her African roots, and being scared and running away from everything was something she had to unlearn. It’s easier learning something new than trying to disassociate from habits that have been bred into your mind like a second layer of protection and a coating of your skin.

A couple of years ago, I would never write about my thoughts or my views unless it was for a graded paper. I would never stand up and apply for anything out of fear, that I was not good enough, that there were other people better than me, so what is the point?

Later, I did start to write, I did apply for things and I did take chances even when I failed at it, but all these little things did bring back my confidence, it did encourage me to be strong and wave goodbye to the young fragile girl that did not believe in herself.

All in all, I guess I needed to go back into the arms of my motherland to see my potential as a young person.

This African child has become ambitious and even more courageous.

Frankly, I feel inspired to get out of my limits now, to see where my possibility takes me, all because I came back home and realised who I was and all my hidden potential.

By Fatou Mbenga