As an African Girl, I Know I Exist

The first time I saw a character that looked like me in a book, I was thirteen.

The first time I saw a character that looked like me in a book, I was thirteen. Tsitsi Dangaremba’s Nervous Conditions became the first piece of writing that showed me characters that looked like me, dark-skinned women with braids and kinky hair, with hips and sometimes breasts, and skin that glowed when the sun hit it. By the time I came across this book, I had read hundreds or probably thousands of others, devouring every book I could get my uncoordinated little hands on from the time I was six. “A novel a day” became my motto. I had read stories of blonde-haired princesses and red-tailed dragons, of blue-skinned aliens and red-headed queens — but still no me.

I began to think I didn’t exist. How could I? When literature — the ultimate reflection of who we were as a society — said I didn’t? I began to crave the red hair and pale skin I read about and I began to reflect this in my own creations. Never a character of colour to be seen because in my understanding characters like us didn’t exist in books, not unless we were meant to be pushed to the side as a token best friend whose only purpose was to amplify the problems of the main character, a means to an end.

Nervous Conditions changed this, I saw myself completely reflected in the character of Nyasha and I saw my family reflected in hers too. And when I saw this — this validation — this proof of existence; it’s almost like I began to exist too. Like I had just been given permission to claim a place in the world cause if I couldn’t even make a mark in fiction how could I in reality? Sometimes we only exist if we see ourselves in the mirror and for most of us art is that mirror.

It’s been 13 years since then and I can only say I’ve seen myself reflected as an African girl in 3, maybe 4 books. I have sought them out. I have googled “books with POC protagonists”. I have been delighted at finding them and then disappointed to see them developed into movies where the character's skin was notably lighter, her nose notably narrower, and her hair notably straighter.

But despite the disappointment and relief, despite the search and the journey, despite the miles to go; because of one author’s decision, I can honestly say as an African girl I know I exist.