Ser mujer negra en Finlandia

Al hablar de Finlandia uno de los países nórdicos europeo se imagina e cree que no existe una población negra. Pues déjame decirles que si, existe una comunidad negra compuesta por finlandeses nativos e migrantes negras/os. 

Yo soy parte de esa comunidad negra puesto que llevo varios años viviendo a este lado del Océano Atlántico lejos de mi país natal. Durante estos años he tenido el privilegio de conocer y aprender muchas cosas de mujeres negras de distintos países Latinoamericanos, Africanos y Finlandia.

Una de ellas es Melina Björn, una mujer negra finlandesa, de 30 años, callada, contenta, criada por su mamá, tías y abuela. Ella se siente orgullosa de tener genes africanos y finlandés.

Monica Gathuo, es estudiante, periodista independiente, activista e elocuente, afro-finlandesa. Dice que los pilares fundamentales en su que hacer diario y su trabajo son la justicia y equidad, los cuales aprendió de su madre. 

Ambas afirman que las mujeres negras finlandesas también son discriminadas por la sociedad. 

Canva/Dazzle Jam

Afirmando ser finés

En Finlandia existe la familia negras desde décadas atrás.  Hay familias mixtas donde ya sea la madre o padre son fines. Igualmente, hay familias negras migrantes con nacionalidad finlandesa que tienen uno o dos generaciones de su familia nacida en Finlandia. 

Durante las últimas décadas la sociedad ha cambiado poco a poco. Hoy en día aún cuando la sociedad es mayoritariamente blanca también hay más gente negra y de otro origen étnico. 

La figura de la mujer negra en  Finlandia ha cambiado mucho. Monica expresa  “Nací en los 90´s en Tampere (centro de Finlandia) y aún cuando en esta ciudad había mucho intercambio de estudiantes internacionales, mi hermano y yo éramos los únicos negros en el colegio”. 

Melina por su parte cuenta que cuando era niña entre 6-7 años vivía en un pueblo pequeño al este de Finlandia. “Allí había una  pequeña tienda y cada vez que mi hermana y yo visitábamos el vendedor nos hablaba en inglés, pero con mi mamá hablaba en fines. Nosotras no entendíamos y siempre le decíamos a mi mamá ¿qué dice este señor, que le pasa?”, manifiesta. 

Ser negra en Finlandia es reafirmarte constantemente a la sociedad y también seguir recordando a tu misma que eres fines. 

En Finlandia se vive microagresiones contantes a través de comentarios, preguntas, actitudes y gestos porque eres negra. Por ejemplo, Melina cuenta que una vez en un restaurante estaba acompañado de su novio y al solicitar la orden a él se dirigieron en  fines pero, al dirigirse a ella para tomar su solicitud hablaron en inglés. 

La ciudad de Helsinki es relativamente pequeña pero cosmopolita, segura y linda pero, aún así hay gente que vive en un mundo de burbuja puesto que no aceptan o ven lo que pasa a su alrededor. Tanto mis entrevistadas como yo sabemos que Finlandia ha cambiado durante los años. Ahora cuando uno camina en las calles de Helsinki  se ve más gente negra, se conocen entre sí y hay un contacto de vista o gesto. Sin embargo, Monica manifiesta que “las mujeres negras en Finlandia  vivimos una agresión de riesgo mental”.

Hablemos de pelo

A parte de hablar de su vida como mujeres negras finlandesas el tema de pelo no podía no ser mencionado. Ambas mujeres Monica y Melina han experimentado discriminación por su tipo de pelo. 

Melina cuenta que cuando integró a una nueva escuela  los niñas/os preguntaron: por qué tu cabello es diferente? Ella cuenta que hubo una época que molestaba de contestar a tantas preguntas y por eso cubrió su pelo para no tener que dar explicaciones. 

La falta de productos en el mercado ha llevado a cada una a usar productos alternativos y hasta fabricar propios productos para su pelo con elementos como aceite de oliva, de coco y la mezcla de otros ingredientes naturales. 

Al preguntar a ambas entrevistadas si ellas alguna vez le habían dicho NO cuando solicitan tocar su pelo, Melina se queda pensativo por un rato y luego contesto no lo había hecho. Es difícil, pero admite que ahora luego tiene más herramientas para hacerlo. 

En cambio Monica dijo que ella si ha dicho que NO a la gente, ella les hizo la contra pregunta  “¿puedo tocar tu pelo?” Recomienda que es bueno tener un argumento y decirlo en este tipo de situaciones. 

El racismo se vive en Finlandia de una manera silenciosa porque no se expresa como en otros países, mucha gente calla lo que siente y piensa. Para que realmente haya una sociedad más equitativo e incluyente es necesario romper ese silencio dando  otro ángulo a las discusiones, artículos, paneles y políticas públicas.

Ambas entrevistadas aconsejan y esperan cambios. “Yo espero que en 10 años Finlandia pueda cambiar al desmantelar los patrones que existen alrededor de la comunidad negra y las etnias minoritarias. Que los niños que nacen hoy en día no tengan que experimentar la misma escuela que yo viví” agrega Monica.

My family tree

Have you asked yourself where your family roots come from?

I remember asking this question a long time ago. It’s not recent. When I was a child, together with my sisters, whenever we heard the song African from the álbum Equal Rights, by the Jamaican Singer, Peter Tosh, written in 1977, we used to ask my mom: Did we come from Africa?

These are parts of the lyrics of the song:

Don’t care where you come from

As long as you’re a black man

You’re an African

(CHORUS)

No mind your nationality

You have got the identity of an African

I think the words of this song are clear; if we are black, our ancestral roots came from Africa.

Nowadays, a lot of people, including celebrities, get the DNA (Deoxyribonucleic Acid) test done to know the origin of their family roots. I have not done the test, but I decided to research with my family members about our ancestral tree.

My story is not far different from others, it started millions of miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Through the 16th to 19th centuries, the transatlantic slave trade took place by Portuguese, British, French, Spanish, and Dutch who were the main traders. The vast majority of these slaves were transported to the New World from West African countries.

It was done in a triangular route. Ships were loaded with goods like guns, ammunition, metals and other materials from Europe. The second stop was to enslave Africans across the Atlantic Ocean to *America especially to the Caribbean Islands. The last and third stop was to pick up and take goods to Europe from America like sugar, cotton, cacao and tobacco, which were slaves-labour productions. Also, they took gold, silver and other precious metals.

The British and other conquerors extended their colony throughout Central America. In 1847, the British announced that the Mosquitia Coast stretching from the North of Honduras to the South of Río San Juan in Nicaragua was their territory. 

According to the Nicaraguan writer, Sergio Ramírez, in his book Tambor Olvidado, expresses that at least five different ethics groups from West African countries like Ghana, Guinea, Nigeria, Congo, Angola, Senegal, Gambia, Benin and Biafra were traded to the New World.

Pablo Lévy, a French diplomatic who had access to colonial documents en 1871, confirms that the majority of slaves introduced to Nicaragua were of the Yolofes (from Senegal and Gambia) tribe. They were tall, slim and had black skin, similar to Afro descent people in our country. (Ramírez, Sergio. Tambor Olvidado. 2007, page 39).

I remember that at one of my Finnish language courses, I was asked by another African: Are you an Ethiopian? I was astonished by the question. Nowadays, when they ask me, I smile and say “no” regardless that Ethiopian women have told me “you can be one of us”.

So really who were my ancestors, what were the given names, how did they meet one another to become part of my family tree? My family tree is interbreeding. Part of my ancestors was on native land in America upon the arrival of the conquerors; another part came sailing from Africa and Europe.

From my mother’s side, my roots are a mix of European, African and American.

Great- great-grandparents, had British and African heritage.

Great – grandfather was from San Andres Island (Colombia).

Great-grandmother from Bluefields (Nicaragua).

Grandmother was from Bluefields (Nicaragua).

Grandfather from Providence (Colombia).

My mother is from Bluefields ( Nicaragua).

“Lemuel, (my great-great-grandfather), was from San Andres, Colombia. He came with three of his brothers. All of them made their living in Bluefields, South Caribbean Coast of Nicaragua.’ He got married to Emelina, native from Bluefields”, said Ened Hodgson.

Emilina was a housekeeper and Lemuel a carpenter. They had three children. The second child of this marriage was my grandmother Carolina Leticia Hodgson Hodgson. She was a strong woman, strict, organizer, respectful, humble, housewife and family provider.

Most of my school vacations, I spent in Bluefields. I remember she was tall; slim, light skin, long hair (mostly braid in two ponytails), long arms and fingers. These two last features I inherited from her. Regardless of her character, she was sweet and tender.

My grandfather, Edgar Samuel Newball, was from Providence, a Caribbean island of Colombia, located 208 kilometres east of Bluefields, Nicaragua. The island of Providence was an English Puritan colony established in 1629. The famous pirate, Henry Morgan, used Providence as a base for raiding the Spanish Empire.

According to a study by June Maria Maw entitled “Dreaming between two worlds”, the native islanders of San Andres, Old Providence and Santa Catalina, claim they are Britist because they descended from Henry Morgan.  The natives are also descendants of slaves brought from Jamaica and other Caribbean islands.

On the other hand, from my father’s side, my roots are also from Africa, Europe, and America.

Great-great- great- grandfather was from Spain (Europe).

Great-great grandfather was from Jamaica (Caribbean Island).

Great- great- grandparents were from the indigenous communities of Karata, Klingna, and Bluefields (Nicaragua).

Great- grandmother was from Karata (Nicaragua).

Great-grandfather was from Bluefields (Nicaragua).

My father is from Bilwi ( Nicaragua).

My great-great-great-grandfather Samuel Nicolson Steward was one of the first persons who came from Jamaica to Greytown, Río San Juan, Nicaragua to work as a magistrate.

My great-grandfather was an English teacher. Historian Hugo Sujo Wilson said (2015): “Samuel Green was a dark Creole man like the majority of us. He was a very educated and well-prepared old man. Even though he was blind, he gave me class for around three years. He was {…}  educated in the English system; he used to keep order and discipline. He imparted classes at his house”.

Karata is an indigenous community some 40 minutes away from Bilwi, North Caribbean of Nicaragua by  outboard motor. It is located in front of a lagoon by the same name. My great-grandparents Merehildo Thompson and Rosina Nelson were from this community.

Merehildo was one of the founders of the community, a pastor of the Moravian Church and wihta (judge) of the community. Rosina supported him with his duties, but also she was a midwife.

Mandy and Jocelyn

They had 8 children, one of them was my grandmother Mandy Lee Thompson, who in 1946 got married to Jocelyn Green, with whom she procreated 5 children.

This is my family tree. So if anyone asks me again about my roots, I can proudly say that I am African, American, and European descendant.

*America is a continent.

As soon as I open my mouth

“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives”. Toni Morisson

Have you ever been in a scenario where you are afraid to speak your language because you can be judged by your accent? Often we hear that just Standard English should be spoken among us. But wait, let’s stop here. Who has the right or audacity to decide this? I think there is no such thing. 

English is the most accessible language globally due to the mass influence of films, music, and the Internet. It is also mentioned that it is the most studied language and probably 20% of the world speaks it. 

Regardless of these figures, there are no such things that there is just one English language that everyone should speak.  

Last year, during the holidays I travelled to the United States of America to visit my family. One day while shopping and paying my bill, I was asked by the cashier: Where are you from? I said: Where do you think I am from? She replied: From Africa or Jamaica. So, I said, from both. Her expression said it all, confusion. I did not clarify it because it is not right that as a human being you always got to give an explanation. My answer was not rude since my ancestors are from both places as the cashier later acknowledged.

Yes, as soon as I open my mouth, that question is often asked. I do not get intimidated anymore because I think that language is part of our identity and culture. We are the ones who mold it according to our use and convenience. Lisa Delpit says “language plays an equally pivotal role determining who we are: it is The Skin that we Talk”.

I was born and grew up in an intercultural environment in the North Caribbean Coast of Nicaragua, Central America, where two Afro ethnics and three Indigenous groups share territories, culture, language, literature, and more. I learned to speak my native language (English Creole) at home and my second (Spanish) at school, which is the official language.

During high school, Standard English was taught to us. I remember that in the classroom along with my friends we spoke “smoothly”, but once we were out for recess our Creole English or Spanish was back. I guess this can be called a mask of language, which is slipping from one language to another. This probably was the most normal thing for us. 

My second sister has a Bachelor’s in Art (BA) degree in Spanish with a minor in Latin-American Studies. She teaches at a school in upstate New York, to 8^th and 9^th grade students. In various conversations with her, she had confirmed that for these students it is not the same scenario, as my high school, to change the language mask. 

African American children can do it and understand both languages distinctly, but white kids just can cope with Standard English, not African American English. 

In the book, The Skin that we Speak, Lisa Delpit describes in one of the chaptershow she was blown away when she heard her eleven year daughter (black) speaking African American English since Standard English was her mother tongue. She was worried that people were going to judge her based on the words she speaks. However, her daughter was confident saying, “Well that’s their problem”. Then Lisa realized that her words came back to her, “It doesn’t matter what other people think about you; you have to be who you are”. 

Another lesson her daughter gave her was that it is important that you learn to “code switch” language according to the environment. I, personally, agree with this because it gives you the confidence and capacity to manage more than one language, and most importantly, not to be ashamed to speak your mother tongue. For example, if I am talking with a Jamaican sister, I can say pickniny referring to children, and she will understand me because they use it, too. as pickney. 

Years ago, along with some young journalists, we produced radio reportage about Creole English in Nicaragua. It was interesting that when we were recording in the studio we did code switch according to the scrip. After all, that is part of our identity. Even though it is a rich linguistic phenomenon, a lot of people do not agree that it should be taught at school because they think it jeopardizes the learning of Standard English.  

Likewise, this same factor occurs, for example in the United States, where there is a big debate from well-known people like Maya Angelou, Rev. Jesse Jackson and others who do not agree that African American English should be spoken at school. “You don’t have to go to school to learn to talk garbage”, said Jesse Jackson. 

Despite the controversy of what language should be taught at school, without a doubt school curriculum and parents should encourage children to learn a second or third language beside continue speaking their mother tongue. Bilingualism or trilingualism is a plus because it gives a wider comprehension of the roots of your mother language and the opportunity to make a comparison between languages. Furthermore, it also gives you the chance to learn about the culture of languages. 

I am proud to speak my Creole language, which has given me the opportunity to understand the syntactic of other languages and have a better approach to Standard English which is like my passport to communicate when I travel. 

No language is correct or incorrect. Languages are part of communities. “We do language,” as Toni Morrison said. Worldwide, thousands of languages have died, so why should we let one more die?

Race and gender: Being same -being different

Currently, a lot of discussion and debate are taking place about black matters in  society, on media, social networks, and panels. The varieties of topics go from racisms, discrimination, human rights, movie, music, to fashion. One day for example, I came across with an article that developed how it is being a black woman in a liberal city. While reading it I realized that things described by the writer didn’t suit me but others did. So it was an affirmation that a black woman does live similarities and differences labelling in Africa, America (continent), or Europe. Have you ever stop to think about this? 

People have the perception that Finland being a European Nordic country doesn’t have a black population, but it’s a mistake Finland has a native and immigrants black community that is active in society in different scenarios such as, performance, art, politic, activism, music, etc. 

The Finnish organization Anti-Racism Media activist Alliance (ARMA) is a three years project sponsor by Kone Foundation that combines academic research and activism. It aims that both be an equal tool to discuss racism in Finland thought innovated way in media, arts, and pedagogy. This is done through three pillars: creative publishing, international networking, and knowledge exchange. 

Monica Gathuo works at ARMA along with Leonardo Custódio. She is a native black Finnish woman, student, activist, freelance writer, who has been influenced by her mother regarding topics such as justice and equality witch, are hard-core elements that aligned her daily life and work.

As part of the international exchange programme from ARMA Monica flew to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. She admits that it was a great opportunity to learn, debated different topics, had lifestyle experiences in the community, and most importantly she collaborated with their partner organization Criola. 

Months after with the coldness and beauty of Finnish winter Silvana Bahía arrived to Helsinki to have her exchange. She describes herself as a journalist, writer, actress, filmmaker, but most of all a curious person who likes to experiment and learn. 

Silvana’s is delightful to meet people and hear stories. Previously she worked on human rights in one of the biggest favelas in Rio de Janeiro. They are a city by itself stigmatize for its violence, sadness, injustice, lack of basic quality services for the people such as education, health, and opportunities. However, they “are also happiness, live, innovation, and a lot of people are looking for solutions toward problems they are facing day by day” confessed Silvana.

Nowadays, she works at Olabi as project coordinator of Preta Lab witch, works with black and indigenous women base on teaching them technologies and innovative tools such as server security. This lab was created when Silvana’s realized that she was the only woman of race in programming and coding space.

At Preta Lab besides, imparting workshops to women they also have discussions with different actors from the society about new technologies production because it is believed that everyone should acquire knowledge of the new technology. 

Photo: Heljä Franssila/Kone Foundation

The black society in Finland-Brazil 

What have you heard about Brazil or Finland? For sure, that they are spotted in two different continents, thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Both are completely diverse in too many elements such as territorial area, population, language, culture, governmental structure, weather, and others. However, they also have far more similarities and differences in the black community. 

In Brazil, the black-skinned people represent more than 50% of the population distributed around the country. On the other hand, in Finland statistic is not defined yet, they are also spread in the different cities.

Silvana and Monica are part of this minorities group that day-by-day live blackness challenges. After sitting, laughing, and chatting about the exchange experience with these two strong women confirmed that there are differences but also likenesses among black persons in both countries.

Monica expressed that the meaning of equality is different “in Brazil is said out loud, there are overt, but in Finland is done in a Nordic way silence and covert”. 

In Finland there a lot of things that are not said regarding the minorities community because most people rather keep their emotions for they self or it is demonstrated by offensive microaggressions by using hateful language, gesture, comments, etc.  

On the other hand, in Brazil people discuss the issue openly even though they know it’s a high risk of being assaulted, threat or dead.  For example, in March 2018 Marielle Franco da Silva who was a political, feminist, and human rights activist was killed in her car on a street in Rio de Janeiro. 

Both Silvana and Monica coincide that black women are more safely in Finland. Walking on the street of Helsinki or Rio de Janeiro is totally not the same for black- skinned women. Being a black woman in Brazil means facing a vulnerable reality of sexual and racial harassments, rape, thread, or to be murder since the social iniquities have colour and gender. 

Is obvious that there is a huge gap in percentage regarding the figures concerning this social problem. According, to a study released in November 2018 by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) shows that 4 women dead for each group of 100 thousand women. 

On the other hand, a resemblance between Finnish and Brazilian black women is that they are “constantly fighting for the rights, there is an inequality no matter where you are whether it is in a Scandinavian country or in Latin-American” said Silvana. 

There are different countries far away yet, it matters that the black women movement and community can find ways that connect them, understand one another, and work toward the unification of a stronger black community.  

In Brazil black women have a history of long slavery struggle, hierarchical, and invisibility.  They had been marginalized by race and gender. They don’t have the same background as white women; they had been working long before. Thus, they have a lot of challenges in reality, such as be recognize as a human being and not being stigmatized like party women and sexual objects. They need to have more opportunities in society. The black feminist looks toward including more women “we need to take care of our self since we always take care of everyone” manifested Silvana. 

Take away

During her visit, Monica was taken away with the black community in Rio de Janeiro. She admitted, “is the first time I feel in the correct place as a black woman. It was funny for me because I never feel that I fit anywhere because of being mix-black. {…} when I go to Kenia witch is my other home country I am white, but in Brazil people think I was from there, they didn’t believe me”. She also added that the warm welcome of people is something she loves. 

On the other behalf, Silvana considers being a privileged woman during her three months stay in Finland by learning a lot of new things. When I ask her what she is taking with her back to Brazil, she laughed and said that is a good question. Silvana said, “is a bigger country than I thought, we need to stop looking at things in a small way there are more possibilities out there”. 

Black-skinned women day by day are looking for stories that match the lifestyle, way to develop their race and gender identify, learn new methods to dismantle perception, and most of all have influencer or heroes examples. 

So when I ask from both women advice for other women Monica said: “take care of your self and support each other”. 

My advice to younger black women is “continue to dream for a better future, dreams make people move and change” expressed Silvana. 

It matters that young black people continue the core and believe that they can create a more fair-minded and humane world. 

My hair: style or political decision?

Text by: Shirlene Green Newball Photos: Kimmo Lehtonen

Weeks ago Miss Universe pageant was held at the Tyler Perry Studios in Atlanta, Georgia. Miss South Africa Zozibini Tunzi was crowned Miss Universe. She is 26-year old, an activist who fights against gender-based violence, and an advocate for natural hair.  She said, ” I grew up in a world where a woman who looks like me, with my kind of skin and my kind of hair, was never considered to be beautiful”. 

These words are not unexpected for many of us as black women. When I was a child, Saturday evenings were dedicated to my hair. I remember it was not a pleasure. I used to get in a bad mood, cried or shouted to wash and untangle my voluminous hair.

This day was chosen because Mom had time to comb and neat my hair for Sunday school. I guess, for her it was also not easy because she had to spend hours doing this same process to me and my other two sisters, regardless  they have “good hair”.

At age twelve, I started another process: relaxing my hair. Yes, my mom was the one who got it done, but eventually it was done by one of my sisters. My scalp is very sensitive, so by the time it was finished applying I had burn all over. I remember sometimes asking my sisters to rinse my hair before the timing was over because it was painful. 

Besides using chemicals on my hair, I remember also using a hot comb. Along came the burnt of scalp, ears and forehead. What a nightmare I lived, all because we were taught that black women have to relax their hair to look good, professional and acceptable in the eyes of society. 

Across oceans and continents, black people had been discriminated during centuries because of their hair, sex, colour and heritage. In South Africa during the apartheid, hair played a role. A pencil test was done. It was past through each person’s hair to determine racial identity. I guess if I was living there during this period of history, I would have been separated from my sisters because of hair texture differences.

Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie wrote in her book Americanah, “Relaxing your hair is like being in prison. You’re caged in. […] Your hair rules you. […]You’re always battling to make your hair do what it wasn’t meant to do. If you go natural and take good care of your hair, it won’t fall off like it ́s doing now”. 

Discovering my hair 

At a Caribbean and Latin-American Afro women summit, I met several girls of my age with natural hair. I was startled went I saw those beautiful black hair, volume and style. But I was most amazingly of the pride they have about it. 

Months later I stop relaxing my hair. I went natural. My hair was reborn. I was glad. I had support from other friends and my partner to go natural. But others were not happy with my decision. My mom was shocked when she saw me for the first time. 

A friend of mine Cynthia Davis who relaxed and blowed-dry my hair for years was not pleased with my real look. She said, “ girl you need to come to me”, I said no. Eventually, she got lo like my natural hair and has been motivated to go natural. 

Alicia Clair, the owner of a bakery shop in the lovely village of Pearl Lagoon, south Caribbean of Nicaragua, is completely proud of her natural hair. Sitting at her place and eating coconut sweets, I heard her story of going natural. She said people had reaction phrases like “what are you doing? are you going crazy? do something to your hair”. 

Alicia thinks that black women should challenge themselves to do it. “ […] It’s part of our identity, not perming it feels good, it’s healthy, the hair has life, […] and you do not kill it”. 

I got to confess that going natural was not easy at first. You fight against your hair to clear it out, to moisturize, and style. It is a process. I learned to feel it, to discover it, fall in love with it, and finally to give and receive. It becomes a marriage between you and your hair. 

Afro natural hair is a gift. It ‘s variable so styling can be fun. But besides being a style, it is also political. My hair is part of me and who I am. With it being natural, I want to demonstrate that I am proud of my Afro heritage and that neither me nor any other black woman should be judged because of our hair.