All my life I have been blessed to live in communities that are pretty diverse. So coming here to Germany, knowing that there aren’t many black people here, made me anxious. I remember even harping over the nail color I chose when I got my nails done because I didn’t want yet another thing that could possibly single me out even more from the crowd since my skin already had that covered for me. I went as far as searching on Google “being black in Germany” to see other people’s experiences here to reassure myself that everything would be fine. Right before I parted from my family I told them how I was nervous and this was due to the fact that I wouldn’t know how it would be for me, being a black young woman in Germany and the possibilities of my experience.
The first couple days went very well. I initially felt comfortable until I started really analyzing this new world I was placed in. I noticed the stares and that caused my mind to go into overdrive on what these people were thinking from looking at me. Did they think I was ugly or beautiful because of my blackness, was there anything I was doing/did that may have further solidified any possible stereotypes they had on black people; good or bad? Did they believe I belonged or I shouldn’t be here. As I had these thoughts I felt as if I was absurd for thinking this way. After all, Germany had already seemed to be much more open-minded and liberal than America has been. Then again it was hard for me to push these thoughts away when there’s a larger lack of representation of black people here.
As the days continued on, I would feel sad and hurt that I barely saw anyone that looked like me. I would look at the posters, billboards, and pictures in window shops, but it was all white faces looking back. When I did see a rare black person on these advertisements it would be a black person of a mixed race with light skin and a grade of 3a type hair. It didn’t help that within the 2nd week of being in Berlin I was called the “N” word as well as racially profiled. In the most contradicting way, I knew I easily stood out for being black, which made me more “special”, but at the same time I felt so insignificant and small.
Whenever I did get the pleasure of seeing another black person on the street I had a moment of joy. All just by walking by them. You could imagine the overwhelming elation I experienced while and after watching Hillbrowfication. The (almost) all black cast was a much needed reminder of how beautiful it is for me to be who I am, to know where I come from and love my culture even more. I could not remember the last time I was that happy that it brought me to tears. I think even more so what caused me to fall in love with the performance was that so many of the performers were children. For them to exude pride in themselves in such a powerful, strong and fun way made me proud of them.
Because of my experience as a black woman in Germany, my appreciation for myself and my race as a whole has increased to an even higher degree. I have more comprehension on why representation is key for the livelihood of everyone. It inspires, it builds confidence, it creates hope, and it provides purpose. The beauty of it is that the children in Hillbrowfication, black models in magazines and black actors in film may never know the people who they affect. Even if it’s one person, having someone representing them makes a world of a difference.
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