Taiye Selasi: Don't ask where I'm from, ask where I'm a local | TED

Summary

In this thought-provoking talk, Taiye Selasi challenges the concept of national identity, questioning the traditional notion of 'coming from' a country. She shares her personal journey of self-discovery, advocating for a multi-local identity that transcends national boundaries. Selasi introduces the 'three R's'—rituals, relationships, and restrictions—as a framework to understand one's true identity through local experiences rather than national affiliations. Her perspective invites a reevaluation of how we perceive ourselves and others in a globalized world.

Takeaways

• 🌐 The speaker, Taiye Selasi, challenges the notion of national identity, feeling it's a lie to be introduced by countries she doesn't identify with.
• 🌟 She introduces the idea of being 'multinational' but finds it unsatisfactory, as it still ties her to the concept of nations.
• 💡 Taiye realizes she is not a national but a 'local', emphasizing personal experience and connection over national labels.
• 🏠 She suggests that being 'from' a place is more about the specific local experiences and relationships one has, rather than a broad national identity.
• 📚 Taiye's understanding of nations as 'invented' and 'sovereign states' that are only 400 years old offers a historical perspective on the fluidity of national borders.
• 🌱 The concept of 'Afropolitan' is introduced as an identity that values culture over country, reflecting a more nuanced self-definition.
• 🤔 Criticism of Taiye's self-definition prompts her to reflect on the limitations of national identity and the importance of recognizing individual experiences.
• 🌍 She proposes asking 'Where are you a local?' instead of 'Where are you from?' to better understand a person's background and experiences.
• 📝 Taiye outlines the 'three R’s' (rituals, relationships, restrictions) as a method to explore and understand one's local identity and experiences.
• 🔑 The concept of 'local' identity is presented as a key to unlocking a more accurate and humanizing understanding of who we are and where we come from.
• 🌈 Taiye concludes by advocating for a recognition of the multi-layered and multi-local nature of human identity, beyond the constraints of national labels.

Q & A

What was the central theme of Taiye Selasi's book tour talks?

The central theme was questioning the traditional notion of national identity and advocating for a more nuanced understanding of one's origins based on personal experiences and local connections.

Why did Taiye Selasi feel that the introductions at her talks were starting with a lie?

She felt they were lying because they attributed her origins to specific countries like Ghana, Nigeria, England, or the United States, which she argues does not accurately reflect her multifaceted identity and experiences.

What concept did Taiye Selasi find relief in when reconsidering her identity?

She found relief in the concept of the 'sovereign state,' realizing that countries are not fixed absolutes but are human constructs that can change over time.

What term did Taiye Selasi coin to describe an identity that prioritizes culture over country?

She coined the term 'Afropolitan' to describe an identity that transcends national boundaries and is defined more by cultural connections and shared experiences.

How does Taiye Selasi define 'multi-local' in the context of her identity?

She defines 'multi-local' as having multiple places that shape one's experiences and identity, rather than being defined by a single nation or country.

What is the significance of the three 'R’s' (rituals, relationships, restrictions) proposed by Taiye Selasi?

The three 'R’s' serve as a framework to understand one's identity in terms of daily rituals, personal relationships, and societal restrictions, offering a more detailed and personal perspective than simply stating one's nationality.

How does Taiye Selasi suggest we should answer the question 'Where are you from?'

She suggests answering by stating the specific places where one feels a local connection, focusing on personal experiences and localities rather than national affiliations.

What does Taiye Selasi argue about the relationship between national identity and power dynamics?

She argues that national identity can be tied to power dynamics, where certain nationalities may be perceived as having more or less power, and this can influence how people are treated and perceived.

Why does Taiye Selasi critique the idea of 'going back' to one's country?

She critiques the idea because it assumes a static notion of place and identity, not accounting for the changes that occur over time in both the individual and the country.

What alternative introduction does Taiye Selasi prefer for herself?

She prefers an introduction that acknowledges her as a human being with multiple local affiliations, such as 'a local of New York, Rome, and Accra,' rather than being labeled by nationality.

Outlines

00:00

🌏 Challenging National Identity

In this paragraph, Taiye Selasi reflects on her experiences during a book tour where she was often misidentified by nationality due to her diverse heritage. She expresses discomfort with the concept of being defined by a nation, arguing that nations are not fixed but are instead fluid and subject to change over time. Selasi introduces the idea of 'sovereign state' as a more accurate representation of her identity, as it acknowledges the historical and cultural shifts that nations undergo. This realization leads her to redefine herself beyond the constraints of national boundaries, advocating for a more nuanced understanding of identity based on culture and personal experience rather than political constructs.

05:01

🏙️ Embracing Multi-local Identity

Taiye Selasi shifts the conversation from national identity to a multi-local one, emphasizing the importance of personal experiences and relationships in defining who we are. She challenges the traditional question 'Where are you from?' by suggesting an alternative: 'Where are you a local?' Selasi introduces the 'three R's'—rituals, relationships, and restrictions—as a framework to understand one's multi-local identity. Through this framework, she explores the daily rituals that shape our lives, the relationships that influence our emotional experiences, and the restrictions that may limit where we can fully express our identity. This approach allows for a more complex and accurate portrayal of an individual's identity, rather than relying on the simplified notion of nationality.

10:01

🌐 The Complexity of Belonging

In this paragraph, Selasi delves into the complexities of belonging and the limitations of national identity. She uses the stories of her friends Olu and Udo to illustrate how political conditions and personal experiences can shape one's sense of home and identity. Both friends, despite their diverse backgrounds, share common experiences of feeling restricted by the political realities of their parents' countries. Selasi argues that focusing on nationality can obscure the shared human experiences that truly define us. She advocates for recognizing the layers of identity that come from being a local of multiple places, rather than being confined to a single national identity.

15:03

📚 The Power of Storytelling and Human Connection

Taiye Selasi concludes her narrative by highlighting the power of storytelling and the importance of recognizing the multi-layered nature of human identity. She critiques the reductionist approach of defining people by their nationality, which can lead to a false sense of diversity and overlook the shared experiences of individuals from different national backgrounds. Selasi suggests that acknowledging our multi-local identities can foster a deeper understanding and connection between people. She envisions a future where her introductions reflect the truth of her multi-local identity, emphasizing that she is a citizen of multiple worlds, not just one.

Keywords

💡Multinational

The term 'multinational' typically refers to a company or organization that operates in multiple countries. In the context of the video, Taiye Selasi initially rejects the label 'multinational' when applied to herself, arguing that she is a human being, not a corporate entity. She later explores the concept of identity beyond the confines of national borders, suggesting that being 'multinational' fails to capture the complexity of her experiences and identity.

💡Sovereign State

A 'sovereign state' is a political entity that has supreme authority over a geographic area and maintains governance independent of outside control. The video discusses the concept of sovereign states as a relatively recent development in human history, emphasizing that the idea of countries as fixed and absolute entities is a misconception. This realization helps Selasi redefine her identity in a way that transcends national boundaries.

💡Afropolitan

The term 'Afropolitan' is a portmanteau of 'African' and 'cosmopolitan,' coined by Taiye Selasi in her essay to describe a new kind of African identity that is globally connected and culturally aware. It represents an identity that prioritizes culture over nationality and challenges the traditional notion of being defined by one's country of origin.

💡Locality

'Locality' refers to a specific place or area. In the video, Selasi argues that identity is deeply tied to the local experiences one has in specific places, rather than to a broader national identity. She uses the concept of 'locality' to emphasize the importance of personal experiences and the places that shape them, as opposed to the abstract idea of a nation.

💡Identity

Identity in the video is portrayed as multifaceted and deeply connected to one's personal experiences and localities. It is not solely defined by nationality but by the unique combination of rituals, relationships, and restrictions that shape an individual's life. Selasi challenges the traditional notion of identity tied to a single nation, proposing a more nuanced understanding based on where one feels 'local.'

💡Rituals

Rituals are customary practices or routines that are significant in a cultural or religious context. In the script, rituals are used as a measure of one's local identity, reflecting the daily practices that are familiar and meaningful to an individual. Selasi suggests that rituals can reveal more about a person's identity than their nationality.

💡Relationships

Relationships are the connections and interactions between people. The video emphasizes the importance of personal relationships in defining one's sense of home and identity. Selasi argues that it is the people who are part of our daily lives and emotional experiences, rather than a national identity, that truly shape who we are.

💡Restrictions

Restrictions in the video refer to the limitations or barriers one might face, such as political corruption, racism, or economic challenges, that affect where and how one can live. These restrictions impact a person's ability to fully engage with their local community and are part of the complex factors that contribute to one's identity.

💡Nationalism

Nationalism is an ideology that emphasizes the importance of a shared national identity. In the script, Selasi critiques the primacy of nationalism, suggesting that it oversimplifies human experience and can lead to a misunderstanding of one's true identity, which is more accurately reflected by local experiences and connections.

💡Citizen of the World

The phrase 'citizen of the world' often implies a person who is cosmopolitan and at home in various cultures. However, Selasi rejects this label, preferring to be described as a 'local of worlds,' which acknowledges her multi-local identity and the specific places and experiences that have shaped her, rather than a broad, undefined global citizenship.

💡Experience

Experience in the video is central to understanding identity. Selasi posits that one's identity is fundamentally about the experiences one has had in various localities. It is the accumulation of these experiences, rather than a national label, that truly defines who a person is.

Highlights

Taiye Selasi challenges the notion of national identity by sharing her personal experience of being introduced with a lie about her origins.

She discusses the complexities of her heritage, including her parents' diverse backgrounds and the fluidity of national borders.

Selasi introduces the concept of 'multinational' as a misnomer, preferring to identify as a 'human being' rather than being confined to a national label.

The idea that countries are not fixed entities but rather constructs that have evolved and changed over time is presented.

Selasi's realization during a book tour that she is not multinational but rather 'a local' of various places is highlighted.

The essay 'What is an Afropolitan' is mentioned as an attempt to redefine identity based on culture rather than country.

Critiques of Selasi's self-identification are addressed, showing the tension between personal experience and societal expectations of nationality.

The importance of recognizing that national identity is a social construct and not an absolute is emphasized.

Selasi proposes a shift from the question 'Where are you from?' to 'Where are you a local?' to better understand individual experiences.

The three 'R's of identity—rituals, relationships, and restrictions—are introduced as a method to explore one's local identity.

Examples of how rituals can vary within the same country and create a sense of familiarity across different cultures are given.

The significance of personal relationships in shaping one's sense of home and belonging is discussed.

Restrictions such as political conditions and personal circumstances are considered in the context of one's local identity.

The limitations of national identity in reflecting the multifaceted nature of human experience are critiqued.

Selasi suggests that recognizing the complexity of being 'multi-local' can foster greater understanding and connection between people.

The potential for the language of nationality to mask power dynamics and create false hierarchies is examined.

The idea that national identity can be a barrier to truly understanding the diversity of human experiences is presented.

Selasi concludes by advocating for the recognition of multiple local identities over singular national identities in order to reflect the true nature of human experience.

Transcripts

Last year, I went on my first book tour.

In 13 months, I flew to 14 countries

and gave some hundred talks.

Every talk in every country

began with an introduction,

and every introduction began, alas, with a lie:

"Taiye Selasi comes from Ghana and Nigeria,"

or "Taiye Selasi comes from England and the States."

Whenever I heard this opening sentence,

no matter the country that concluded it --

England, America, Ghana, Nigeria --

I thought, "But that's not true."

Yes, I was born in England and grew up in the United States.

My mum, born in England, and raised in Nigeria,

currently lives in Ghana.

My father was born in Gold Coast, a British colony,

raised in Ghana,

and has lived for over 30 years in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

For this reason, my introducers also called me "multinational."

"But Nike is multinational," I thought,

"I'm a human being."

Then, one fine day, mid-tour,

I went to Louisiana, a museum in Denmark

where I shared the stage with the writer Colum McCann.

We were discussing the role of locality in writing,

when suddenly it hit me.

I'm not multinational.

I'm not a national at all.

How could I come from a nation?

How can a human being come from a concept?

It's a question that had been bothering me for going on two decades.

From newspapers, textbooks, conversations,

I had learned to speak of countries

as if they were eternal, singular, naturally occurring things,

but I wondered:

to say that I came from a country

suggested that the country was an absolute,

some fixed point in place in time,

a constant thing, but was it?

In my lifetime, countries had disappeared -- Czechoslovakia;

appeared -- Timor-Leste; failed -- Somalia.

My parents came from countries that didn't exist when they were born.

To me, a country -- this thing that could be born, die, expand, contract --

hardly seemed the basis for understanding a human being.

And so it came as a huge relief to discover the sovereign state.

What we call countries are actually

various expressions of sovereign statehood,

an idea that came into fashion only 400 years ago.

When I learned this, beginning my masters degree in international relations,

I felt a sort of surge of relief.

It was as I had suspected.

History was real, cultures were real,

but countries were invented.

For the next 10 years, I sought to re- or un-define myself,

my world, my work, my experience,

beyond the logic of the state.

In 2005, I wrote an essay, "What is an Afropolitan,"

sketching out an identity that privileged culture over country.

It was thrilling how many people could relate to my experience,

and instructional how many others didn't buy my sense of self.

"How can Selasi claim to come from Ghana," one such critic asked,

"when she's never known the indignities

of traveling abroad on a Ghanian passport?"

Now, if I'm honest,

I knew just what she meant.

I've got a friend named Layla who was born and raised in Ghana.

Her parents are third-generation Ghanians of Lebanese descent.

Layla, who speaks fluent Twi, knows Accra like the back of her hand,

but when we first met years ago, I thought, "She's not from Ghana."

In my mind, she came from Lebanon,

despite the patent fact that all her formative experience

took place in suburban Accra.

I, like my critics,

was imagining some Ghana where all Ghanaians had brown skin

or none held U.K. passports.

I'd fallen into the limiting trap

that the language of coming from countries sets --

the privileging of a fiction, the singular country,

over reality: human experience.

Speaking with Colum McCann that day, the penny finally dropped.

"All experience is local," he said.

"All identity is experience," I thought.

"I'm not a national," I proclaimed onstage.

"I'm a local. I'm multi-local."

See, "Taiye Selasi comes from the United States," isn't the truth.

I have no relationship with the United States,

all 50 of them, not really.

My relationship is with Brookline, the town where I grew up;

with New York City, where I started work;

with Lawrenceville, where I spend Thanksgiving.

What makes America home for me is not my passport or accent,

but these very particular experiences

and the places they occur.

Despite my pride in Ewe culture,

the Black Stars, and my love of Ghanaian food,

I've never had a relationship with the Republic of Ghana, writ large.

My relationship is with Accra, where my mother lives,

where I go each year,

with the little garden in Dzorwulu where my father and I talk for hours.

These are the places that shape my experience.

My experience is where I'm from.

What if we asked, instead of "Where are you from?" --

"Where are you a local?"

This would tell us so much more about who and how similar we are.

Tell me you're from France, and I see what, a set of clichés?

Adichie's dangerous single story, the myth of the nation of France?

Tell me you're a local of Fez and Paris,

better yet, Goutte d'Or, and I see a set of experiences.

Our experience is where we're from.

So, where are you a local?

I propose a three-step test.

I call these the three "R’s": rituals, relationships, restrictions.

First, think of your daily rituals, whatever they may be:

making your coffee, driving to work,

harvesting your crops, saying your prayers.

What kind of rituals are these?

Where do they occur?

In what city or cities in the world do shopkeepers know your face?

As a child, I carried out fairly standard suburban rituals in Boston,

with adjustments made for the rituals my mother brought from London and Lagos.

We took off our shoes in the house,

we were unfailingly polite with our elders,

we ate slow-cooked, spicy food.

In snowy North America, ours were rituals of the global South.

The first time I went to Delhi or to southern parts of Italy,

I was shocked by how at home I felt.

The rituals were familiar.

"R" number one, rituals.

Now, think of your relationships, of the people who shape your days.

To whom do you speak at least once a week,

be it face to face or on FaceTime?

Be reasonable in your assessment;

I'm not talking about your Facebook friends.

I'm speaking of the people who shape your weekly emotional experience.

My mother in Accra, my twin sister in Boston,

my best friends in New York:

these relationships are home for me.

"R" number two, relationships.

We're local where we carry out our rituals and relationships,

but how we experience our locality

depends in part on our restrictions.

By restrictions, I mean, where are you able to live?

What passport do you hold?

Are you restricted by, say, racism, from feeling fully at home where you live?

By civil war, dysfunctional governance, economic inflation,

from living in the locality where you had your rituals as a child?

This is the least sexy of the R’s,

less lyric than rituals and relationships,

but the question takes us past "Where are you now?"

to "Why aren't you there, and why?"

Rituals, relationships, restrictions.

Take a piece of paper

and put those three words on top of three columns,

then try to fill those columns as honestly as you can.

A very different picture of your life in local context,

of your identity as a set of experiences,

may emerge.

So let's try it.

I have a friend named Olu.

He's 35 years old.

His parents, born in Nigeria, came to Germany on scholarships.

Olu was born in Nuremberg and lived there until age 10.

When his family moved to Lagos, he studied in London,

then came to Berlin.

He loves going to Nigeria --

the weather, the food, the friends --

but hates the political corruption there.

Where is Olu from?

I have another friend named Udo.

He's also 35 years old.

Udo was born in Córdoba, in northwest Argentina,

where his grandparents migrated from Germany, what is now Poland,

after the war.

Udo studied in Buenos Aires, and nine years ago came to Berlin.

He loves going to Argentina -- the weather, the food, the friends --

but hates the economic corruption there.

Where is Udo from?

With his blonde hair and blue eyes, Udo could pass for German,

but holds an Argentinian passport, so needs a visa to live in Berlin.

That Udo is from Argentina has largely to do with history.

That he's a local of Buenos Aires and Berlin,

that has to do with life.

Olu, who looks Nigerian, needs a visa to visit Nigeria.

He speaks Yoruba with an English accent,

and English with a German one.

To claim that he's "not really Nigerian," though,

denies his experience in Lagos,

the rituals he practiced growing up,

his relationship with family and friends.

Meanwhile, though Lagos is undoubtedly one of his homes,

Olu always feels restricted there,

not least by the fact that he's gay.

Both he and Udo are restricted by the political conditions

of their parents' countries,

from living where some of their most meaningful rituals

and relationships occur.

To say Olu is from Nigeria and Udo is from Argentina

distracts from their common experience.

Their rituals, their relationships, and their restrictions are the same.

Of course, when we ask, "Where are you from?"

we're using a kind of shorthand.

It's quicker to say "Nigeria" than "Lagos and Berlin,"

and as with Google Maps, we can always zoom in closer,

from country to city to neighborhood.

But that's not quite the point.

The difference between "Where are you from?"

and "Where are you a local?"

isn't the specificity of the answer;

it's the intention of the question.

Replacing the language of nationality with the language of locality asks us

to shift our focus to where real life occurs.

Even that most glorious expression of countryhood, the World Cup,

gives us national teams comprised mostly of multilocal players.

As a unit of measurement for human experience,

the country doesn't quite work.

That's why Olu says, "I'm German, but my parents come from Nigeria."

The "but" in that sentence belies the inflexibility of the units,

one fixed and fictional entity bumping up against another.

"I'm a local of Lagos and Berlin," suggests overlapping experiences,

layers that merge together, that can't be denied or removed.

You can take away my passport,

but you can't take away my experience.

That I carry within me.

Where I'm from comes wherever I go.

To be clear, I'm not suggesting that we do away with countries.

There's much to be said for national history,

more for the sovereign state.

Culture exists in community, and community exists in context.

Geography, tradition, collective memory: these things are important.

What I'm questioning is primacy.

All of those introductions on tour began with reference to nation,

as if knowing what country I came from would tell my audience who I was.

What are we really seeking, though, when we ask where someone comes from?

And what are we really seeing when we hear an answer?

Here's one possibility:

basically, countries represent power.

"Where are you from?" Mexico. Poland. Bangladesh. Less power.

America. Germany. Japan. More power.

China. Russia. Ambiguous.

(Laughter)

It's possible that without realizing it, we're playing a power game,

especially in the context of multi-ethnic countries.

As any recent immigrant knows,

the question "Where are you from?" or "Where are you really from?"

is often code for "Why are you here?"

Then we have the scholar William Deresiewicz's writing

of elite American colleges.

"Students think that their environment is diverse

if one comes from Missouri and another from Pakistan --

never mind that all of their parents are doctors or bankers."

I'm with him.

To call one student American, another Pakistani,

then triumphantly claim student body diversity

ignores the fact that these students are locals of the same milieu.

The same holds true on the other end of the economic spectrum.

A Mexican gardener in Los Angeles and a Nepali housekeeper in Delhi

have more in common in terms of rituals and restrictions

than nationality implies.

Perhaps my biggest problem with coming from countries

is the myth of going back to them.

I'm often asked if I plan to "go back" to Ghana.

I go to Accra every year, but I can't "go back" to Ghana.

It's not because I wasn't born there.

My father can't go back, either.

The country in which he was born,

that country no longer exists.

We can never go back to a place and find it exactly where we left it.

Something, somewhere will always have changed,

most of all, ourselves.

People.

Finally, what we're talking about is human experience,

this notoriously and gloriously disorderly affair.

In creative writing, locality bespeaks humanity.

The more we know about where a story is set,

the more local color and texture,

the more human the characters start to feel,

the more relatable, not less.

The myth of national identity and the vocabulary of coming from

confuses us into placing ourselves into mutually exclusive categories.

In fact, all of us are multi -- multi-local, multi-layered.

To begin our conversations with an acknowledgement of this complexity

brings us closer together, I think, not further apart.

So the next time that I'm introduced,

I'd love to hear the truth:

"Taiye Selasi is a human being, like everybody here.

She isn't a citizen of the world, but a citizen of worlds.

She is a local of New York, Rome and Accra."

Thank you.

(Applause)