In Which the Mayoress Finds Herself With Only One Fugee Left to Serve

"We Are All Africans!"

At least, that was Wyclef's sentiment when shouting out Haiti on tonight's Grammys. I can't speak for the entire nation of Haiti (like Wyclef can, apparently), or even my own entire country, but as someone whose country's ancestral history is also from Africa, I HATE it when Americans say they're African. I'm not African-American. I'm American. I've never been to Africa. I know very little about Africa and I sure as hell don't know which country my family came from (thanks slave trade!).

As those who know me know, I also hate it when people ask me "where I'm from" as in what my ethnicity is - of course, as I've said before, it's usually men figuring me out, as in, whether to ask me out (hey mami! oh, you're not latina? but you look latina - are you sure?). I'm from Oregon. I can talk for days about why Portland is awesome and the cultural nuances of the Pacific Northwest, but even in the wake of tragedy I doubt I'd speak for the entire region.

My point, I suppose, is that what I value is global citizenry - we should be (somewhat) equally upset and provoked to action whether something happens in a place we have ties to or in a place we've never heard of. Aparna, one of my very wisest friends, made a great point the other day - as awful, horrible as the tragedy in Haiti is, even more unspeakable things happen daily in other places and we either don't know about them or no longer care. And that's unacceptable, no matter where you're from. In other words, let's not get so caught up in unnecessary identities that we can't be simply human. We've seen many times what happens when we go too far the other direction, so wouldn't it be wonderful if we could find out what happens when we move forward instead?