Growing - An Unfamous Journey

2

Viva Panamá

¡Mi familia! My family means the world to me. I don’t recall the first time I actually understood that my family is Afro-Panamanian. I’ve heard about the country my whole life. Family and friends spoke Spanish around me my whole life. However, I do recall my earliest memory of talking to a relative in Panamá. I was maybe four years old. Now I try to consistently keep in touch with my family still living in Panamá thanks to technology like social media, instant messengers, and VoIP phone services. I also try to visit every other year at minimum.

My grandmother was the rock of my family living here in the States and in Panamá. Holidays with my family could include my grandmother, her six children, their 15 children, two of my grandmother’s siblings along with their children and grandchildren, and two of my grandmother’s cousins along with their children and grandchildren. That doesn’t count the many family friends that were just as close as family to us when she was alive. I truly believe my family dynamic growing up is what makes it easy for me to navigate various social circles today.

The size of and diversity amongst my family likely played a major role in who I am. I believe the genuine love my family has shown and continues to show to each other and others played a role in the compassion I have. It wasn’t until my grandmother’s funeral that I was able to even put that into perspective. Someone mentioned they did not know why my grandmother accepted them as family when our family was big enough as it was. It reminded me that a lot of people in my family approach their interactions to the world with the same love and compassion she did.

My grandmother dropped out of high school during her junior or senior year to help earn money for her family. I recall her telling me she was working as a beautician when she met her first husband. Together they had two children. They eventually dissolved the marriage after a while and my grandmother had my mother. She then married an American soldier with whom she had three children. He eventually received orders to the U.S. and brought my grandmother and all six of the children with them. Unbeknownst to the children, two of them were brought over here undocumented. My mother was one of those children.

Shortly after arriving in the States, the American soldier left my grandmother with her children and began a new family. My grandmother began working multiple jobs to make ends meet. She worked three separate jobs cleaning rooms in hotels. Over time, my grandmother became a well-respected manager in the hospitality field. Her work ethic spoke for itself. She spoke fluent English and Spanish to operate as a translator between the management team and the cleaning staff. This was also an opportunity she used to begin sending money back home to Panamá and create an opportunity for some of her relatives to relocate. She would often walk to work because she could not even afford bus fare. Her best friend, who was also Panamanian, would walk to work with her, even though she could actually afford the fare. We all need those types of friends in our lives. Those who are truly on the journey with you and not those who feel they’re competing against your journey. That’s the first lesson of this chapter. Remember that outside of your blood family, you build the village that is around you. You’re the one selecting those you wish to join you on your own personal journey of life.

The second point is to become aware of the sacrifices made by those before you in order for you to succeed. Many times we do not even realize our family has sacrificed in many areas for us. Once you have understood those sacrifices made, you can better understand the strength you have. Also, you may realize the struggles you believe you have are really not that bad. While I have definitely had to walk to work before, I’ve never had to work three jobs. The combination of those two things will always make me appreciative of my grandmother’s sacrifices for our entire family.

The last point is that Latinxs come in many forms and shades. My family is Afro-Panamanian. There are even different types of Afro-Panamanians. There are the Afro-Panamanians who descended from the slaves and there are Afro-Panamanians who are descended from the Afro-Caribbeans who migrated to Panamá to build el Canal de Panamá. My family is the latter. My paternal great-great-grandparents migrated from Barbados and my maternal great-great-grandparents migrated from Jamaica. My maternal great-grandfather, Prince, also worked at the canal after construction was complete. It all leads back to Africa to me. So most times I myself as African-American or Afro-Panamanian, but it’s as a reminder that I am a descendent of Africans who were stolen and dispersed around the globe.

So yes, there are Black Panamanians or Black Hispanics in an abundance in Latin America. The Afro-Latinx experience, though, is usually not too different than the experience African-Americans have in the States. There’s oppression, marginalization, and racism all throughout Latin America toward Afro-Latinxs. It took me a long time to understand that. I recall my first time hanging out in Ciudad de Panamá. It was neither my first time in Panamá, nor my first time in the city, but it was my first time actually hanging out there without my family. It was better because I was alone. You’ll see why later.

I went to the mall to attend an event, but I decided to browse the stores before I went in. The mall caught me off guard. Let’s just say I never thought I’d see a Versace store in Panamá based on my previous experiences of it. Not that I was buying anything from Versace. But I did go inside the Lacoste store thinking I could grab a couple of polos for the low low. I was still thinking the prices from the more common side of Panamá to which I’m accustomed. Nope. They were the same prices I would find at Lenox Square in Atlanta or Tyson’s Corner in Northern Virginia. Still something that I could afford to buy though.

So I continue to browse. Before I know it, security is all on me. Not because I’ve stolen anything, but to make sure I don’t steal anything. At first I was tickled and thought it was cute they believed I would steal. I’ve only stolen three times in my life. I’ll talk about that later, too. Then it became annoying. The audacity of them to continue to hover over me. I don’t mean casually following me. I mean actually hovering over me, in my personal space. The only reason I can come up with to this day is because I was Black. What makes racism such a powerful tool to use again people is that it’s difficult to prove someone is actually treating you differently because of your skin color. However, growing up in it, most times you know.

We moved from Hawaii in 1992 when I was six years old. However, we did not immediately go to our new home in North Carolina. We traveled for about three or four months. Most of that time we were living with my grandmother in Newport News, Virginia. We first lived in Lucas Creek Apartments then moved to Beechmont Apartments before it was renamed Autumn Lakes.

I first realized what it meant that my family was Afro-Panamanian while we were in Beechmont. Most of our social circle at that time was comprised of other Panamanians in the vicinity. My one friend during this time was a little Afro-Panamanian girl that lived in our building. I was a year older than her, but since we lived in the hood and my parents didn’t know many people, she was who I was limited to play with. We were in similar situations. She was living with her dad, who was a single parent, her grandmother, great-grandmother, her aunt, and her aunt’s boyfriend. The only non-Afro-Panamanian in their home was her aunt’s boyfriend. He used to spend all day trying to rap or come up with lyrics and talk about how he was in some guy named Jaz’s music video. But the young distinguished preacher I thought I was thought he meant DJ Jazzy Jeff from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I used to quote scriptures at him and tell him he needed to focus on gospel music and not the devil’s music. He had something in him where he knew who he was and what he wanted. I didn’t see it at the time, but now that I’m older I definitely see that his drive was always there.

Later on in life, while I was in middle school in Germany, a friend of mine pulled out a CD titled Vol 2...Hard Knock Life from an artist named Jay-Z. My reaction to her was “Mr. Shaun has an album out?” Little did I know that was his third album. Of course she did not believe he was ever someone I knew. I didn’t care though. I was just excited for him. Since then I’ve been so proud of Jay-Z and his success. I’m sure our paths will cross again someday if the universe sees fit.

Just like my friend at the time, we lived in an overcrowded apartment. There were at least 11 of us living in a three bedroom apartment. Many people in our apartment that socialized with her family. We gravitated to the other Panamanian families. Her dad and Jay-Z would hang out with one of my uncles pretty frequently. We also found out there was a common relative shared between both families that came to visit occasionally.

Even though I knew the neighborhood we lived in at the time wasn’t the best, I now understand my parents kept me sheltered from a lot of things going on right around me. Because of this, when my friend’s mother returned to Virginia from New York to take...