Identity Crisis

Nathan Alder
5 min readSep 29, 2021

“You’re black but you act white.” This phrase, these six consecutive words are certainly not gibberish to me. I have heard it so recurrently that one might think that I have gotten used to the witticism but it still ever so often makes me pause for a moment, and wonder why a mere, uncultivated utterance impacts me so much.

I was born out of wedlock in the land of cheese and chocolate, dominantly right-wing, also known as Switzerland. I was product of a white father who and a black mother whom I both call Mommy and Papa. A rather uncommon status at the start that attracted many unwanted stares and demeaning attitudes at most street corners. Mommy always went off about how everyone from the local bar would stop the loud chatter and stare as she entered with Dad to find a seat every Friday night. As a young child, I had nothing to complain about considering that my parents provided me with all the care and support that a baby could ever wish for. I am told by many that I got “the best of both worlds”.

I was brought up by two sets of cultures that are seemingly polar opposites of one another. Mommy originates from the wild jungles, endless savannahs and glorious coastlines of West Africa in a little country that the natives like to call “Salone”, officially known as Sierra Leone. A nation endowed with African pride and culture. Fulfilled with its everlasting reverie to its independence from the oppressive rule of the British Empire in 1961 and for its place of liberation from the souls enslaved across the Atlantic. Papa on the other hand was brought up by highly conservative protestant parents who lived in the rural mountainous regions of Switzerland where getting struck by lighting was more likely than to encounter the slightest bit of diversity. Mommy always told me “By 2050, almost everyone will look like you!” My young self always struggled to imagine that considering that I was the only mixed one in my first years of schooling.

Throughout most of my teenage years, I encountered many situations where I was found in the midst of two different worlds, I could be doing what is stereotypically considered as “white people stuff” like going to a gun range, axe throwing, listening to country music, dancing and chanting to Irish tunes even with my curly hair and darker skin tone. I would often get called out by my black friends for being “so white” and have people say “Oh my god, why does Nathan act so white!?” I stood out like an outcast. I would be the only curly hair man walking in the woods with a hunting rifle and ear muffs. It was not easy, It was like I had to watch how I acted among certain people. Mommy always told me, “it don’t matter what others think, it’s all about embracing you are and where you are from, honey”. She always had a way of saying things that gave clarity and alleviated any feelings of gloominess.

I was a persona that strayed from the “conventional norms”, whatever that is supposed to mean. Hanging out with friends was always an experience. During most of the 2010s, we spent lots of time taking turns free-styling to hip-hop beats gathered together in a circle. When my turn came, it was nothing but non-rhythmic stutters and blushes of embarrassment. “Nathan you’re black, don’t you know how to rap??”. That always followed by looks of shock and concern as if I was not living up to some type of heritage. So many other black people know how to rap, how come not me? I was more into 70s-80s rock. A sucker for Queen, Bryan Adams, Bruce Springsteen, The Police and the list goes on. The black folks I knew, rarely listened to that. I could never scream to the top of my lungs “Fortunate Son” in the car without being under heavy scrutiny when I looked in the rear view mirror. I even made playlists that had tracks that I liked to call the “socially accepted ones” around my black friends. However, when I spent time with my other friends, there was no restriction, I played what I want. I guess I felt more white than black given that I grew up primarily in Switzerland despite my appearance.

“You’re lucky you don’t have strict parents Nathan” said Mommy on so many occasions. I mean she was right. My parents were very liberal in the way they raised me. I never had 10PM curfews, nor was I grounded very often. I just did what I wanted most of my youth. My friends always had their eyes wide and sticking out when I told them that. Staying out late at night without constantly reporting back to ground control was unfathomable to them. You could feel the fear within them if they ever attempted to ignore a text like, “Why are you out so late?!” or “You must come home now or you’ll be grounded for life!” I used to tell them, “You’re an adult, can’t you just tell them to let you be?” That would never fly in their families, but it did for me. Sometimes it would feel like my parents did not care much, even though I knew that they would put me before anything else. I could not complain though, even though I sometimes I got the impression I was the sole ostrich in a flock of flying birds.

Soon enough, my perception on life took a turn for the better. I ceased to allocate so much precious time in worrying about “not belonging to a system”. I began to see life as a short time-span where constantly worrying about the judgement of others is purely an act of futility. Mommy was right during all these years. I guess I was too young to conceptualise the significance in what she told me. She didn’t hyper-focalise on the small trivial aspect of things like I used to. Now, I do not care what others think of me or what I do. I have evolved to see beyond the day to day half-ass judgements and begun to see life for what it really is. Living.

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