I believe its quite fitting that for my 50th post, I am writing about being nominated for Liebster Award. I got nominated for this award by fellow blogger Purple Gloves. Just want to say a big thank you for nominating me. Never imagined that I will be nominated for an award on the interwebs. Hugs all around. According to him, the Liebster Blog Award was created as a way of highlighting blogs your readers should follow.
The rules of the Liebster Award rules are as follows:
- Thank the Liebster Blog Presenter who nominated you and link back to their blog.
- Post 11 facts about yourself, answer the 11 questions you were asked and create 11 questions for your nominees.
- Nominate 11 blogs you feel deserve to be noticed and leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been chosen.
- Display the Liebster Award logo
- No tag back.
So fasten your seat belts and and enjoy the ride.
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from the United States, Boston to be exact”
“No I mean where are you from, from”
“Okay where are your parents from?”
“They are from Ghana”
“So you are from Ghana then”
“Yes I am but I live/grew up in Boston”
“So why do you not say you are from Ghana”
“I don’t know”
The aforementioned conversation snippet is usually how conversations start with some African people I meet. I recently got into a contentious debate with a Cameroonian guy about the intersectionality of my gay and Ghanaian identity. He asserted that I can’t be a gay African/Ghanaian since its an oxymoron. He said I had to choose one. As in, If I wanted to be gay, I had to stick with my “African American/western” identity and live openly.
I have always had an existential identity crisis growing up. I didn’t know where I belonged sometimes. I was either too “white” too fit in with the “blacks” (I was mostly referred to as an oreo throughout high school),or I was too bourgeoisie to understand the plight/struggles of “African-Americans”. And my favourite was that I was too “westernised” to call myself Ghanaian or African. Include the gay bit and it complicates everything.
As I have mentioned several times on this blog, I wasn’t bothered with my racial identity when I was growing up. Heck I used to select “other” or change my “race” on every standardised test I took. For all my university applications, I didn’t check my race section (I still get a lot of criticism for that as most people claim that it would have enabled me to get loads of scholarship since I’m considered a minority). While I didn’t care about racial politics, I cared about my Ghanaian heritage and Pan-Africanism. I got offended when ignorant remarks were made about Africa or when people called Africa a country. I remember when I came back to the US after spending a few years in Ghana , I was asked by a couple of guys if I slept in a hut and chased lions for fun. I was soo mad that I just gave them deathly stares. Yet I still identify with my “Americaness” when I am outside the US. Every time some asks me where I’m from I say Boston, U.S. instead of Accra, Ghana. Why is that?
Leave it to iTunes to randomly play a song that brings back memories that are supposed to remain hidden…forever.
The song in question is Paloma Faith’s song “30 Minute Love Affair”. Listening to the song definitely brought back memories of the guy who took my v-card. The circumstances by which we met was very random. I had just moved to Lausanne, Switzerland for my study abroad and was getting acquainted to the city since my flatmates hadn’t moved in yet.
I went to a Brasserie in the city centre to have a drink when he approached me. We introduced ourselves and I told him that my conversational French was pretty bad so I wanted to find someone I can practise with. We started speaking in French and he would correct anytime I made grammatical error or mispronounced something and laugh at my sad attempts at making jokes in French. After a few drinks he invited me over to his place and for reasons unknown I said yes and we left the Brasserie.
So I’m in love. There I said it.
With who you may ask…well its a long and bizarre story. Recently meet a guy and I have concluded that he is my future husband. I have already pictured our life together and our future mapped out. He is smart and very handsome and is the total package for me. We have some mutual friends in common on facebook and lets be honest I have been stalking him although we are not Facebook “friends”. Truth be told,
we have not had an actual conversation we had a little mini conversation (but it doesn’t really count) I know crazy right?. But from what I have gathered, we have a lots of things in common. We need to meet and get married like now! I am not even kidding.
On a serious note, he is a very smart guy from the looks of it and i’m scared to make the initial move for the fear of rejection or something even worse (like to find out that he’s taken, or he doesn’t date “blacks” or he’s straight [that will be highly suspect] #gayboyproblems). I don’t know what to do. I may message him and start a conversation to see where things lead.
Wish me luck