I often use this as an excuse to not talk about stuff. But today I want to be honest and talk about what it’s like to be a black African girl in Turkey.
P.S. I’m speaking from my own experience.
When you realise you’re Black
In Kenya, the only labels I ever had to use were female and Kenyan, and sometimes Luo and African. But living in a place where there aren’t many black people? Wow, that really slaps you in the face! You are a black person. You can tell because people stare at you in public, people pull out their phones to snap hidden pictures of you, you’re the only black person on the metro, and youngsters look at you with interest and occasionally fear. It just keeps going. I recall how great it felt to encounter another black person when I first moved here and didn’t know anyone. Also, guys, the nod is real.
Regarding the questions
There is a fine line between wanting to know more and not knowing anything. So, not knowing where people’s enquiries come from and how to answer them drives me insane. The dorm staff where I used to stay in Turkey phoned me the first week I was there to enquire if I showered and how often. This showed a lack of knowledge and a lot of disdain. An old man asked me if he could touch my braids that same week. I was really confused. *shouts in Solange Knowles’ “Don’t Touch My Hair”* I thought this was out of curiosity.
It can be both at times. For example, when I asked a bank teller where I was from, they said, “Oh Kenya the jungle!” Or the many times people have questioned me about “the war in Rwanda that is still going on.” (Wyd Turkish education system???)
It’s much ruder when the questions are about your body. How often do you clean your hair? Do you even have hair down there? (Ha! This occurred to my flatmate, though.
What has interested me the most about all of this is how calm and patient I have been with others. I never thought I could teach African history and geography or let people touch my hair.
On the fetishisation.
People think you are exotic because you are black. When men hit on you here, they say they don’t like white women and only want “African queens.” As if saying something kind about one lady while putting down another is a compliment.
Because of the fetishisation, I also see a lot of sexual harassment, especially in public places. Some males will even follow you around or grab you. Some males will even push their elbows into your breasts or try to line up their crotches with your butt in the tube.
People also think that black girls in Turkey are prostitutes.
Çikolata
The Turkish word for chocolate is çikolata. A lot of people use this word while talking about black girls. It is meant to be a kind thing to say. But I really dislike it. There is a distinction between saying someone is chocolate-toned and calling them chocolate.
This summer, I taught English at a school where the teachers called me Teacher Chocolate to help me get to know the kids better. Others used it because they couldn’t recall my name. Every time I heard that name, my ancestors told me to stop it. I sometimes wonder what would happen if I named someone “sand,” “paper,” or any other moniker for fair-toned foundation hues. Would it still be a nice thing to say? No? I didn’t think so.
When someone calls you “Zenci.”
As a black person in Turkey, you also hear the word “zenci,” which means “black person” in Turkish. The word Zenj, which meant “Southeast Africa,” is where the word came from. Bantu Dragons, I mean Bantu-speaking people, lived there. I found a Quora discussion that says zenci is not a bad word. But most of the time I’ve heard the word used, it was in a rude way. It was meant to be rude. I think it’s as bad as nigger. A lot of people won’t agree with me, but I think people should have a voice in what they are called. So if you’re Turkish and a black person doesn’t like the phrase zenci, don’t say it!
Please leave a comment below with your ideas on what it’s like to be a black woman in Turkey.
