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W.E.B. DuBois introduced the term "double consciousness" into sociology a century ago, and it is still as relevant a term then as it is now. His idea that Blacks in America have to be aware of the fact that they are both African and American was ingenious, and I definitely agree with that. However, during his time, Blacks were generations removed from their African background, so his term basically meant that Blacks in the United States had to realize that society required them to realize that they had to have two personas, the public one that everyone sees, that is required to be a little bit assimilated to White culture, is different from our actual selves. I, on the other hand, can take his concept of double consciousness literally. Both my parents are Nigerians, but I was raised here, so I am the quintessential definition of African-American.
I speak Yoruba fluently, and so do most people in my family. We speak it to each other most of the time when we are in the confines of our home, and this has led to me having a little bit of an accent when I speak English. Ever since I was young, classmates and people in general, have always felt the need to let me know that I have an accent, whether as a compliment about how nice it is, or just as a random statement. I hated this attention, and I became very aware of how I spoke just so I could hide my accent. I did not want to seem different from anyone else, so I tried to assimilate my accent into how everyone else spoke. However, my accent was still detectable because I would slip up sometimes, and of course, someone would notice.
I used to hate the first day of school, when the teacher would be taking roll, and get to "A****, *******". He/she would not even say my name before I knew it was me because 1) I knew I was always the first on the list and 2) the teacher would always look up and just say "This is a hard name." This is when I would say "It's probably me", and dread having to pronounce my unique name because all the students had the same reaction; they'd all look at me with very interesting expressions, and eyebrows raised with curiosity. I would sometimes wish that I had a simple name like "Lauren Jones" because I got sick of standing out on the first day of school. What also made me feel less accepted was that the teacher would ask "Is there something else I can call you?" because they just never deemed it necessary to learn how to pronounce my name. This is why most people outside my family know me only as "Luvvie"(well, my professional name but we'll use Luvvie for this instance).
It was not until recently, probably within the last year, that I have truly started embracing my African self. I hide my accent less, if at all, and my name does not embarrass me, but it gives me a sense of self because it is beautiful and it is uniquely me. What made me finally become more proud of my heritage? I would say that it is all a part of growing up and really learning who I am. In looking back, I realized that I was hiding my accent, and hated roll call because of the reactions I got from my peers. It marginalized me from them because it automatically labeled me as different. My need to fit in and assimilate had me ashamed of the deepest part of me, my African heritage, and I am definitely not proud of that. Due the years of hiding my accent, it has decreased tremendously. It's almost undetectable. Although I don't try hiding it now, it is no longer really there so I definitely assimilated.
Picasso's "Girl Before a Mirror"
I'm realizing more and more that I live in an ethnocentric society, one where people only have knowledge of their own culture and no one else's. The differences we all have culturally are not always embraced because everyone believes their culture is the only true one. Microsoft Word tells me that every time I type my heading and it does not recognize my name, showing that I need to do a spell check (on all three of my names). I notice that I'm different every time I go to a store, and my name is not on a mug. Nevertheless, these biases are too deeply ingrained in society for me to expect any change, so the best thing for me to do was to change my way of thought. I have a very rich culture, and I love everything it stands for. My unique names are just a testimony to it, and I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.
My case of double consciousness is so literal that I can easily see myself as two very independent personas, "********" and "Luvvie". ******** is the me that loves my African heritage, speaks Yoruba, and is very comfortable being different from everyone else. She's the one few people outside of my family really know, and some people I've known for years don't even know exist. Luvvie is the westernized version of me; the one that is widely accepted, and who everyone prefers because she's mainstream. Some people don't even know I'm Nigerian until I mention it, and tell them my first name. I subconsciously switch between the two, depending on the context, but I identify with both. However, I'm becoming more "********" everyday now.
