Being Biracial in Germany

Being Biracial (black and white) in Germany.

Preface:

I have obviously been spending a long time thinking about this paper. My time in Berlin was completely different from what I expected. Coming to Berlin, I had the expectation that we would find people who were remorseful of their past and excited about the future. I quickly learned it was quite the opposite. We learned in class that Germans, including Berliners, have still forgotten the horrors of the German Empire. They also are not as accepting of refugees as I would have imagined by our classes initial introduction to Angela Merkel. I am excited I had the opportunity to come to Germany to see how expectations can change. I found Berlin to be more like Seattle than I expected. The school system was definitely better in Berlin, but I had some interesting race and nationality conversations with a wide variety of people, including myself. I recognize this paper is a little scattered, but I think this small collection of stories will encapsulate some of my odd experiences.

Introduction:

This story starts on my way home. I am in the line at Tegel Airport waiting in line to check my bag and go through security when the man behind me asks where I’m from. I tell him the United States, and he asks me my nationality. At this point I am used to the question and tell him I am just half black-half white and one hundred percent American. He named a Middle Eastern Country that I could be from, and I told him it was funny how I have been asked this question multiple times on my trip, but I never get asked this question at home. He ended up being a nice person and we had a lovely conversation. This initial conversation led me to think back to the multiple times I was asked about my nationality on this trip.  

Chapter 1:

We opened the door and Laurette immediately made friends with the Lebanese worker who was very excited to have an Lebanese-American tourist in his restaurant. They spoke together in Arabic and while talking she turned back around looked at me and said no to her new friend. She told me after the conversation was over that he asked if I was Lebanese. I was first taken aback by that question, it was funny… but I have never had anyone ask me where I was from, and no one has ever thought of me as anything but half black, especially Arab. Laurette then said, “Well Sophia, you do have curly hair and the right color skin.” I mean, I guess she was right. I laughed a little about the bizarre situation, and then the conversation changed to how delicious the falafel was.

Little did I know, that would not be the last time someone asked me where I was from. I got it everywhere I went. Even the workers at the actual cheap pasta place were convinced I was from Syria until I told them I was half black. It was bizarre. My favorite time was when two Chadian dudes were convinced I too was from Chad. I told them I was just half black, and they proceeded to ask “No, but where are your ancestors from?” and my only response was “uuuuhhhhhhh…. Texas.”

I did not get this question a lot, but many people in Berlin asked me where I am from. I thought this was amusing and unusual seeing as everyone at home never questions for a second when I tell them I am half black; but in Berlin people thought I was from Chad, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, and a few other countries that I have never considered before.

Chapter 2:

            After I finished talking to this nice man, I looked down at the woman in front of me who was carry a purse that had an imprint of a gun. After getting over my shock, I realized the gun imprint was actually just a design, not a real gun, luckily, in the airport. But I think I really need to highlight THIS WHITE WOMAN WAS WEARING A PURSE THAT LOOKED LIKE IT HAD A GUN IN IT AT THE AIRPORT AND NO ONE QUESTIONED HER. But who was patted down in airport security? Me. Who had their hair touched during the airport security pat down? ME.    

Chapter 3:

Every time I saw one of these people I would always ask myself “who are these people with dreads, and are they choosing to ignore the people on Facebook who continuously fill their feed with articles about cultural appropriation?” I have a hard time picking a single moment when I asked myself this question, because these instances took me out of surprise, and then passed quickly from my mind because we never stopped moving. I know I pointed these people out mostly in the train stations and at clubs, but occasionally I saw them on the street and in bars. We noticed it, we laughed, and then moved on. When we did think about it we noticed that people in Berlin have an easy time adopting “fashion trends”.

Epilogue:

These instances were interesting in a place and time where I was thinking about my identity. At home, I have never been asked about my nationality. People from the United States know how black people came to the country, and it would not make any sense to ask where someone’s ancestors came from if they were where taken from their land and placed into the horrific United States slave system. Many black people prefer to not be referred to as African American because many do not identify as “African” seeing as they have no relationship to Africa. I realized this is not the case in Berlin. People of color did not start coming to Berlin until recently, and therefore you can trace most of their lineage. Some children whose great grandparents came from another country still do not have citizenship which means many people still consider themselves Turkish rather than German. It is different in the United States, and learning about these differences taught me about how race and identity varies all over the world.