Host: This year marks the 20th anniversary of WNYC's youth media program: Radio Rookies. And today we have a story from a Rookie about understanding race in America, as a new immigrant. Until recently, 18-year-old Arame Sene, didn't quite understand why black people in America identify as black. She'd ask, “why not African."  She and her family came to the U.S. from Senegal two years ago, and now, she's constantly confronted by questions of identity she never had to consider before.

Arame: Growing up I never thought about race. But that changed when I moved to the U.S. two years go.

Arame: Did you think about race when you were in Senegal? 
Friend 1: No. Not at all.
Friend 2: No. Cause in Senegal, we are all black. So yeah.

Arame: I’m in the lunchroom. At my school. Talking with my friends.

Arame: So when did you realize that you were black? Actually.
Friend 1: We came here. When I moved to New York City. Like, seeing uh in this paper black African-American, White, Hispanic. Something like that...

Arame: She’s talking about the college application form. 

Friend 1: At that time I realized that I'm black.

Arame: It is weird having to check the box “Black/African-American.” African, is not an option. And if I’m honest-- a lot of Senegalese fear being in the same box as Black Americans. 

Arame: So where did this fear come from?
Friend 2: Outside you will see some black people in the train, you will see the way they act. Like, they don’t want anybody to touch them. They are so, how do you say it? Huh, mean, right.

Arame: I’m a little ashamed, but— before moving here, friends and uncles told me: 
“Don’t interact with Black Americans.” 
“They will influence you to do BAD things.”

And when I got here, I quickly realized the stereotypes, they go both ways. 

When I first got to the U.S., I was one of the few Africans in my school. And a classmate-- who’s black like me, said that she didn’t want to play or talk to me, because I’m African. And I was confused.

Arame: She doesn’t even know who she is. Because you are black. And I and black too. And then you’re calling me African-- but what are you?

[Background chat in Wolof]

Arame: When I told my friends-- they immediately had questions. 

Friend 1: Did you ask her why she said that?
Arame: No I didn’t. I didn’t talk to her. And then I had the language barrier because I just came. So.
Friend 1: Yeah I understand.

Arame: In Senegal, any time someone has looked like me—they’ve been African. I never had to question that.  But here I’m constantly confused. Trying to guess who’s a part of my community-- so I know where I’m welcomed or not.  

[Street sound from 116th Street.]

Arame: When my family moved to New York— we moved to a neighborhood with many Senegalese people, it’s actually called, Little Senegal. That area-- is in Harlem, where Black Americans have lived for many generations.

We are together, but we don’t seem to connect.

Arame: Can you tell me your race and ethnicity?
Yacine: I’m Senegalese. My parents are. But I was born and raised in America, so I’m Senegalese-American. 

I met Yacine in Little Senegal, and she told me-- she has dealt with this disconnect between Black Americans and African immigrants her whole life. 

Yacine: When I grew up in the Bronx, most of the people that were my friends were not black, because black people, black Americans I feel like, tend to look at Africans, before at least-- as like, down and like dirty. And we were African booty scratchers.

Arame: I never knew about the “African booty scratcher.” I can’t imagine growing up somewhere where being African was a bad thing.

Kai: As a kid I remember like all kinds I like, Africa jokes about each other. Calling each other Kunta Kinte. Um, I-- me too. 

That’s Kai Wright. He’s a WNYC host and has been reporting on Black people in America for decades. And he was able to tell me where some of this tension-- was coming from. 

Kai: Black Americans, are Americans. You know. This is not everybody, but for a lot of people the response to being marginalized in America, is to try to double down and if you can have something that's less American than you. You can differentiate yourself from it. 

Arame: That’s normal-- to direct put the pain of being at the bottom, on to someone who can be lower than you. It’s like, if you get a 60 on a math test and a classmate has a 55, you want to act like you’re smarter or better than him. But in America we wind up checking the same box. So where does that leave me?

Krystal: My name is Krystal Hawes.

When I first met Krystal, she described herself as “just regular black.” So I asked her what she meant.

Krystal: That's a good question. People always ask well where are you from. And when I say here, it always goes back to like, Well where are  your parents from and I say here like literally here. And then it goes back and back and back until I can't I can't identify specifically where that here is anymore. So I say just black to mean like, black American. Even though at some point I'm obviously African. Its like something was taken from me. I'm I am missing a thing. And I would ask you, like-- do you identify as black now. 
Arame: I am still confused. I don't know where to fit because I am my skin color is black. But then I'm African because I'm from Africa. So society is not giving me the choice to I'm just black. I guess.

[SOUNDS OF DANCING WITH FRIENDS] 

Arame: Of course I am so, very Senegalese speaking in wolof and dancing mbalax. But everyday, I am reminded that I'm black. I can't not think about it.

On Instagram I follow a lot of people who post pro-black memes and pictures. And a few months ago, I saw a lot of people posting about the film, “When They See Us.”

[Movie Clip]

It is a true story about The Central Park Five. Five boys, wrongly convicted of rape.

Growing up in Senegal, I worried about making it to school on time, passing my classes, and if my dad would let me go hang out with my friends. But I never worried about being judged or even punished because of my race. 

[Friends in lunchroom]

Arame: I decided to confront my friends. 

Arame: Can you tell me please, what’s the difference between us Africans and black Americans?
Friend 1: Like, you can see from them, that they are rude, but not us.

Arame: It was a hard conversation to have on tape.  

Arame: If you take a step back, we are not different… maybe we have different backgrounds… 

Arame: I wanted them to be more open minded.

Arame: Did you guys watch when they see us?

Arame: And to put themselves in the shoes of black Americans. 

Arame:  They didn't do anything. That's what I'm saying.
Friend 3: Because they are black.
Arame:  It's because they are black. So what I'm trying to say is that… someone can have some type of behavior, but you don't know their background. You don't know what they have been through.

Arame: One day my friends and I were on the train, talking. And an older white lady screamed at  us. She said we were too loud. I was so mad that just speaking, existing was disturbing her. I felt restricted. 

Imagine feeling that for generations. That would be too much.

For WNYC, I’m Rookie reporter Arame Sene.