The British Empire Left Us with Identity Crisis
Like many millennials and zoomers, growing up in 21st century Nigeria, I was plagued by several rounds of identity crisis. Being of Igbo origin, one of the many ethnic groups in Nigeria and raised in the Eastern region of the country, I had so many encounters with all aspects of my native culture. The intoned language I spoke, the masquerade festivals bathed in bright red and orange, the silky agbalanze attire I dressed in and the aromatic cuisine of ora soup and pounded yam I enjoyed — it was all around me. At the same time because of Nigeria’s colonial past with the British Empire, I was taught English in school and through the various Enid Blyton and Dr Seuss novels my parents made sure I read.
However, it doesn’t stop there, for formal events, I was raised to dress and act like a proper British gentleman in a proper suit and tie not minding the searing hot climate. Other days, we even ate a proper English breakfast with toast, eggs, sausages, baked beans and tea. It was as though I lived two lives.
In one life, I was expected to be British, that’s when to speak and look the part — this is usually in schools, offices and any formal engagements. And in my other life, the expectation was that I expressed myself in my native Igbo culture for the more traditional events like the masquerade festival where young boys are initiated into the society through rituals that sometimes involved flogging with a cane — which I thankfully escaped.
Being exposed to what I thought was a culture clash in my childhood and teenage years, I was left with questions people around me clearly had no answers to. Other young people suffered silently with similar fates as I did; not even the older ones had fully discovered themselves.
At such a tender age, I contended with an identity crisis — was I British or Igbo?
For the sake of my sanity, I had to choose one life and of course, I went with the easiest option, I was British. Being British seemed like the smarter option; at least I got to speak the most spoken language in the world, looked refined in behaviour and automatically received a better shot at success in life than if I had gone with being Igbo, my native culture. Being British just had a lot more to offer.
Now a teenager struggling with an identity crisis, watching teenage tv shows like iCarly, Drake and Josh, and Hannah Montana on Disney and Nickelodeon worsened my situation and made me wish I was American. Something about the average American lifestyle seemed alluring and more enchanting than my Igbo traditions. It was foreign, somewhat simplistic and everyone including immigrants of similar colour and creed as myself were sold the glamorous American dream. A place built by immigrants; this is a place I can easily feel at home.
Time for self-discovery
It wasn’t till the age of 17 when I enrolled in a private university in Nigeria that I found answers to this nagging problem. By now, I have been Igbo, British and American at different points in my very short life.
For those who don’t know much about Nigeria, the country boasts of over 250 distinct ethnic groups; but it wasn’t until university that I interacted with this much diversity. I was always stuck in my own corner of the country interacting mainly with just the Igbo culture. In my first year in university, I was categorised by others from different backgrounds as Igbo and this was a fact I couldn’t deny but I hated it deep down. This constant reminder by others of who I was led me down a path of self-discovery — I owed it to myself to know and understand my history.
So I started digging, my research led me to a period my great grandparents lived. At this point in time, there was no place named Nigeria; the current landscape of Africa was unfamiliar and non-existent. It wasn’t until 1885 that European powers called a conference to divide up Africa like a pie with each taking a slice or two — or more if you were the British Empire or France. Each portion they took, they colonised importing their languages as the official language of these colonies, introducing new ways of dressing — which totally ignored the local climate, and setting up alien administrative systems that worked in Europe.
In a bid to preserve their traditional ways from being sullied by British, French or Spanish influences, the older generation in most African societies dammed their native traditions. In Nigeria, this meant keeping your British life separate from your local life. At offices and schools, you speak English and dress in sombre suits and dresses, but when home or at festivals and other traditional occasions, you speak your native tongue and dress in vibrantly coloured agbadas, kaftans and isi-agu. They led double lives; putting on different masks depending on the occasion. To me, this was hypocrisy and was the main cause of my identity crisis — I didn’t know which mask to put on and when to take it off.
Re-entry to my culture with a little spice
These recent realisations led me to appreciate my culture more. For the first time in a long while, I felt proud of my origin. But the realisation also uncovered a fatal flaw in the way we practised our traditions. The older generation opposed any change to their culture, but this fight was futile and counterproductive. Cultural evolution is something that’s been happening to generations of people all over the face of the earth. Whether through colonisation, renaissance or even conquests; change is inevitable.
For this, I and many in my generation have learnt to accept colonialism and its irreversible influences on us. With this acceptance, we are giving our native culture a face-lift by incorporating various European and American influences into our dressing, music, food, and festivities. In a sense we are the re-entry generation, going back to the old ways with new improvements.
This revolution is most notable in the entertainment and fashion industry where young people boldly make statements, expressing their traditions in a more modern context. This has led to the international recognition and craze for Afro-beats which has been used by the likes of Drake, Doja Cat and Justin Bieber; the use of kaftans in the marvel movie, Black Panther; the creation of traditional Netflix movies in pidgin, native languages and of course English. Personally, my contribution to this cultural re-entry is writing; I write to provoke both young and old to think and act in appreciation of their unique circumstances.
This story of identity crisis and rediscovery isn’t just a story of colonised people all over the globe, but also that of immigrants. Yes, it might seem difficult and unnecessary to hold onto your cultural identity for the sake of assimilation and acceptance by society. However, our culture is a major part of who we are and in a world of diversity, you need to hold onto your uniqueness.
