In a society where race is looked at under the microscope it can be hard to enjoy things not of your culture without worrying that you are coming off as pretentious or condescending.
It is a strange and unsettling sensation to be in a place that is so familiar but still not uhuru. To feel like an imposter in a place that you love so much. Why should it be that Americans who have never touched our soil but were born of a certain skin tone should relate to it more than I?
I am well aware that I should be burnt at the stakes for even suggesting this is my moment too‚ when thousands of Africans have died for freedom and the right to have their stories told.
I know that I just “don’t get” what it is like to not be raised white in South Africa. I will never know that feeling and I will never pretend to. But there is a sense of pride in this country and continent that I felt while watching Black Panther which transcends the colour of my skin.
I saw Africa. I saw home. I saw me.