Angie Melissa González Chaverra
In the late 2000s, I was with my mother and my sister at home in El Carmen de Atrato Chocó of Colombia, South America. My mother received a scary call from one of her friends. A military group had come into the town. The armed soldiers were burning houses and shooting people indiscriminately. My mother’s friend told her to hide with us under the beds if we wanted to survive. People were running like crazy. Buildings were destroyed. I vividly remember dead bodies on the floor. The attack continued for days. It was gruesome! Still, it would not be the last time in which I had to run away. I feared for my life. I learned to suppress my voice. My only references of power were violence and guns.
I am a resilient black woman, and through dance, I found my own voice to speak out against social injustice and the negative impact of being Black in Colombia. There is a social misunderstanding about my community, Chocó, and Black movements of resistance in Colombia. Many people consider Chocó a marginalized region where extreme poverty and misery abound. It hurts when others ask me if I would rather be from a “better place.” This “innocent” but stereotyping question is evidence of social injustice, which suggests a rejection of cultural expressions from different backgrounds. Structural issues such as racism and discrimination demonstrate a historical exclusion of ethnic traditions such as those of people of African descent in Colombia.
The dream of every black girl in Chocó is to straighten their afro hair. I straightened mine every month with chemical treatments. This painful process affected my identity. It made me feel bad about myself. In fact, I was told that I had ‘pelo malo’ or ‘bad hair’. In Colombia, ‘pelo malo’ is a negative expression that demeans Black people’s natural hair. It is communicated to us from the day we are born. I was conditioned to believe that I was inferior. The only way for me to be accepted was to have straight hair because I was not good enough unless I looked white. My living conditions reminded me that I was not privileged. I was not enough for others.
My commitment to becoming a leader in my community started with the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr program. It is a U.S. Department of State English language program that focuses on providing opportunities for Afro-Colombian and indigenous university students to study English and leadership. I had never participated in an exchange program before. Yet, I felt that I was in the right place. This program rebuilt my faith. Being well-educated is only a dream in my community. However, I could demonstrate that we can do better.
I am a co-founder of ‘Nzingha Akanforá,’ one of the prominent Afro-women collectives in the city of Bogotá. Our collective is dedicated to exploring and promoting gender and cultural studies within the Afro-descendant community. We provide a supportive and empowering space for black women, particularly those who are transitioning with their Afro hair. Our sessions are designed to celebrate and affirm Afrocentric beauty and identity, fostering a sense of pride and solidarity among participants. Recently, we have expanded our focus to include working with young black girls in our community. These young girls are the future of our movement, and we have established a new seedbed to nurture their growth and development. Through this initiative, we aim to instill a strong sense of cultural identity and self-worth in these girls from a young age. We engage them in various activities that highlight the richness of their heritage and the importance of self-love and acceptance. By doing so, we hope to empower the next generation of Afro-Colombian women to continue the fight for social justice and cultural recognition.
My past, present, and future belong to my community and those who helped me grow. I have not made it alone. People have been put in my life to empower my pathway. This eagle is not afraid anymore. I am ready.
I plan to empower Black territories. Each one makes each one. I have been called to give birth to a new generation. As Nikita Gil’s poem says, “I am the dream of my ancestors.”
