I’ll answer your question.
I never really considered why I ended it that way. My initial draft ended with that question and it felt right.
It was a heavy feeling. The word “together” came after the edits.
When I re-read it, trying to put myself in the mindset that created the piece, it was the overwhelming sense that I was dumped into one class of color with everyone who looked like me.
Essentially guilty of being “one of them”.
The bane behind the post was how different I felt, and my feelings around having to define or redefine who I was.
In Cameroon, our own history has been manipulated. We’ve had the same president for decades and the precious, glorious, history we have has been poorly transmitted to the next generation.
I don’t even know how to speak my languages. When you’d say this to anyone, you’d be blamed for not learning it.
But they forget there’s no YouTube channel or Skillshare for this one.
Who even talked about blame anyway?
But being black and guilty, together, represents how we have individual worlds that have nearly nothing in common, but, when I walk to a counter, or take a bus, or say my name, there’s a stream of assumptions about who I am and where I’m from.
At least, that is how I felt it then.
Between writing it, publishing it, having it featured and then now, so much more has happened.
My thoughts are forming into something that is less dependent on that narrative. My eyes are set towards goals that have little to do with external constructs. In the same vein, I’m rethinking those assumptions about blackness and identity.
I’m rewriting my narrative. Or maybe, discovering it.