I have said it before and I will say it again: knowledge is power, and when you grow up without it, the world feels smaller, more confusing, and harder to navigate.
In my last column, I shared my shock at learning about Mansa Musa, the richest man in recorded history, at the age of 44. That knowledge came not from my upbringing, not from bedtime stories, but from a classroom in Canada. I had an emotional breakdown when I heard it because it wasn’t just about history, it was about realizing how much of myself, and my people, I had been robbed of knowing.
Now, let’s connect this to a moment that went viral recently: a Jamaican man in Toronto’s Sankofa Square shouting that “We are not African.” Many people in the community were embarrassed, even angry, but me? I saw a teaching moment.
I know what it’s like to grow up hearing those same words, “I am not African. I am Jamaican.”
The layers behind ignorance
When I call that man “ignorant,” I don’t mean it as an insult. Ignorance means “not knowing,” and if you don’t know your history, how can you know yourself? How can you know your place in the world?
Born in Jamaica, that’s what I was taught. The adults around me didn’t know better. They weren’t malicious, they were repeating what they had been told. Colonialism stripped us of pride in our African roots and replaced it with shame.
Of course, when people don’t know their history, they cling to the narrow identities that have been handed to them. This is why I don’t laugh at or condemn that man.
Instead, I want to invite him into the conversation. If he reaches out, I’ll personally gift him an ancestry kit, because for me, it was a fluke of a fluke that changed my life.
A friend gave me a coupon for an ancestry test. I’ll forever be indebted to her.
When I got my results, I wasn’t shocked, and yet, I was. I had questions. I had validation, and I happened to get those results while sitting in class learning about Mansa Musa. The collision of those two moments was spiritual. It broke me open. It also made me realize how much healing comes from simply knowing where we come from.
Why storytelling matters
Whenever I’m asked about my work, I tell people I’m here to show the importance of storytelling. That is how knowledge gets passed down. My classmates (many half my age) knew their history because their parents and grandparents told them those stories as children. Meanwhile, I had to piece mine together as an adult, through formal education, ancestry kits, and sheer determination.
That’s why I believe it’s a moral obligation to share what we know, however little, with the next generation. Jamaica, like much of the Caribbean, is layered. We carry the wounds of colonization, slavery, and cultural erasure, and yet, there is resilience and brilliance in our history, but brilliance means nothing if it’s hidden away.
A call to the community
I am only one person, but I have a strong voice. I believe in the power of collective action. Even if you’re not in school, do your research, help one another, share what you learn, and, most importantly, tell our children the stories of where we come from.
We can’t continue to let each generation grow up thinking they are disconnected from Africa, because the truth is, we are Africa. Our food, our music, our spirituality, our rhythms, they all carry Africa in their bones.
It’s not just about pride; it’s about empowerment. When we know we come from: kings, queens, warriors, and inventors, we stop seeing ourselves as less than and start seeing ourselves as what we’ve always been: powerful, resilient, and worthy.
So, to the Jamaican brother at Sankofa Square, if you’re reading this, I’m not mad at you. I see you, and I want better for you. Reach out. Let’s do this work together. because your healing is tied to mine, and mine is tied to yours.
Final word
We can’t know where we’re going if we don’t know where we’re coming from. Now that I know what I know, I have a social and moral responsibility to collect our stories, amplify them, and bring awareness to our real history. Healing starts with knowing, and then telling, our truth.
