Being the Minority & White Privilege

As a white person in Kenya, I experienced something very different than I ever would have in the United States.  Here, I stand out as the white or "mzungu" person walking down the street. They see me from a mile away and aren't afraid to shout or stare at me until I've passed.  I've never gotten so much attention in my whole entire life (probably combined!) than I have here.  If I stand out at home it's probably because I have a booger in my nose or my fly is down, but never because of my race.

During my whole time in Kenya, but specifically in Kisumu, I was constantly reminded of my "whiteness."  I'd walk to my internship, and for the entire 45 minutes, people (mainly men) would shout at me saying, "MZUNGU!", "White lady!", "Baby!" or some other sort of cat call.  They see white girls as "easy" based off of what they see on American television, and often times, I'd get marriage proposals just because they think I have money and can bring them with me to America.  My first week in Kisumu was so hard because after an hour and half of that every day, I seriously wanted to punch the next person who talked to me.  But after that first week, I got used to it, and now after our return to Nairobi, it actually felt weird that people weren't noticing us.  However, it was frustrating at times because I was constantly battling with trying to understand people's motives and whether they liked me for me or for the status they thought it would bring them by being friends with me.  I wanted to be friendly and form lots of relationships, but I wanted to be liked for the right reasons and not just because of the color of my skin.  

Many people here think all white people are rich and will often times ask you for things or see you as their free pass to America.  They want you to buy them things or give them your clothes, and this false idea that they had about us all being rich was frustrating, but it also made me realize that many people back home do the same thing.  They have stereotypes about Americans in their giant mansions, driving a Mercedes, and with money to spend on absolutely everything.  But then Americans, too, have this view of Africa as mud huts, where children are dying of starvation and orphaned because their parents had AIDS.  Are either of these stereotypes true?  Of course not, but I couldn't really be upset with their view of white people when I knew I had friends and family back home with stereotypes just as false about my life here. 

While adults see you as some sort of money bank, with the kids, they see you more as some sort of god or goddess.  All they want to do is touch your hair, hold your hands, and say hello.  It's like they've been taught to have this idealized image of white people, that just really isn't true.  I'd come to work covered in dust and mud from my walk, and the kids could not believe that I, the mzungu, could ever be dirty.  Even the Kenyan food I ate or the fact that I took a bucket shower, they could NOT believe; they think even in Kenya, Americans bring their giant mansions, drivers, butlers, etc. (that we don't have) to accommodate our every need.  I tried so hard to convey the concept that we're all human and actually have many similarities, yet I think they still thought I was somehow fibbing. 

I can also remember when I visited this rural school, all the kids ran up to my friend, Jenna, and me.  My professor said this was probably the first time they had ever seen a white person.  She said this would be all they'd talk about when they went home to their parents, and they would probably remember this day for the rest of their lives.  I was shocked!  I could not believe that my 5 minutes with them would have such an effect even though I really didn't do anything but hold their hands.  That was one of the moments when I had this feeling of guilt... I didn't want to be seen and remembered as some sort of celebrity because of the color of my skin, I wanted to be remembered because of who I was as a person.

Even in my internship at the children's home, I was called "mzungu" by the kids and even the other staff all the time!  I was there for 6 weeks, and often times, I'd have to remind them that my name was Jenni and not mzungu.  It made me feel so degraded because even though I had spent so much time with them, some of them still see all of us "mzungus" the same, not differing enough to even have our own names....

Yet, even though I was experiencing all of this in the sense of being the minority, I still carried my white privilege.  At every supermarket, shopping mall, etc. there are security guards standing at the entrance with metal detectors to check your bags, and almost every time, I got waved through while a Kenyan next to me would be searched.  In the few times I was checked, I set off the buzzer every time, and nothing happened-- just got a wave through the door.  I could go somewhere and people would probably want to serve me first just because I'm white.  It's so strange because in my education classes at the U, we talk a lot about the white privilege we have within the United States, but I guess I never really thought it would carry overseas.  I was the MINORITY yet still got special treatment. 

The sad part is, as much as I hate to say it, I know I'm going to miss the all the attention and all the special treatment I got here.  Even if it was for the wrong reasons, I'm going to wonder why no one wants to talk to me when I walk into the grocery store or why no one is looking at me as I walk down the street.  It's like I became so accustomed to such treatment that I almost expected it.  For example, when we went to Uganda and thought we might need our Yellow Fever cards, one of my friends had forgotten hers, and all of our mindsets were full of arrogance wrapped around the fact that we were white: "Oh, you'll be fine.  I mean, they're not going to NOT let you in." 

The fact around all of this though is that I still have no idea what it really means to be the minority.  Yes, I know what it feels like to have everyone stare at you and wonder what in the heck you're doing there every single day, but it's never in a negative light.  I never would go into a store and have someone think my ulterior motive was to steal something just because of my race.  I was never extra security checked.  Never was questioned about motives.  Never asked for my ID.  It was like, "Oh, it's okay because she's white."  You can't help but feel guilty in those types of situations, even though there's nothing you can do about it-- You are who you are, and you can't change the color of your skin.  I wish the world was different and we saw our differences in a light that valued and embraced them rather than favoring one over another or having negative stereotypes about a person without even knowing them.  And while it's sad the world is the way it is, I'm hopeful one day things will change.  I'm grateful to have had such an experience that could maybe not give me full understanding of what it's like to be the non-white minority, but gave me one, in which allowed me to reflect on my own life experiences and put into a worldview context to better understand those different from me.