Brown in the Netherlands, Brown in the World

I would like to start this by saying how much I love this country. Everyday, I fall more and more in love with the Netherlands and its people. I have so much admiration and respect for the efficient, direct, and lively Dutch culture. Throughout my 3 years living here (in Nijmegen), I have done everything I can to immerse myself in it, whether it’s joining in for carnaval, being a huge enthusiast of kapsalons and krokets (my biggest temptations as a vegetarian), or learning how to bike better when I’m drunker than I can walk. I’m even trying (very slowly) to learn the funny-sounding language.

However, in light of the Black Lives Matter movement, it’s important to look internally and recognise that these problems are not just present in America. The difference is, racism takes a much more obvious form there, and the covert nature of it in this country means it is not often that there is a conversation about it.

I’m not here to educate you.

It’s not difficult to spend just a few minutes on the internet to look into some statistics and research done in this area, if you actually care. This is about MY personal experience in the Netherlands, as an Afghan girl. This is perhaps not the same experiences a black person or other less privileged refugees (including Afghans) than myself might have. I speak only of what I have lived. I grew up my whole life in third world countries, as a diplomat. It was and still is a very strange experience for me to move to the west. It was always an assumption of mine, along with most foreigners who have never lived here, that people in the Netherlands are very progressive and open-minded.

What they fail to realise is that the Netherlands is NOT Amsterdam.

It’s a whole other story for anyone who was raised in a typical little village. There are more general observations of racism that I have made, such as the infamous Zwarte Piet and how adamant even young Dutch people are to claim that “tradition” is more important than the pain this evokes in Black people. I don’t understand the racist Dutch songs which make fun of East-Asian features, but I definitely hear it when they are referred to as “Chinese” regardless of their ethnicity. I think the most shocking thing that I heard was when I was engaging in a conversation about racism in the Netherlands with my Dutch friends, and one of them suggested that minorities sometimes “play the victim.” I couldn’t even explain what was so outrageous about this statement to a white person who knows nothing but whiteness.

Regarding more personal experiences, I was very surprised in my first months living here when a girl informed me that she had only ever been around white people so she could not at all differentiate between me and a black person. I was very confused at how we were grouped together given that, not only do our typical features vary greatly, but the history of black people in the Netherlands is so different to that of brown people. At that moment, I felt that the only identity I will ever have here is “not white.” I had many other unsettling experiences like this, such as when my ex-boyfriend’s bible belt friends refused to acknowledge my presence (not a hi, wave, or even a nod), or when I went into a little village to buy a second-hand fridge and all the neighbours stood by their doors watching, ready to phone the police in case my brother and I were there to rob them.

My friends told me that this story doesn’t surprise them at all, that it’s “normal.”

One particularly bothersome experience I had was when I went to a museum designed to recreate the everyday experiences of blind people. My tour guide, who was blind himself, had a whole conversation with me and my siblings in English before asking us where we are from. After learning we are Afghan, he slowly enunciated “oh, should I speak slower to you?” and spent the whole tour making irritating comments such as “if you feel the object in front of you, it is X. Do you have X in Afghanistan?” It was very dehumanising.

Racism exists everywhere and I unfortunately got accustomed to the baggage that comes with my heritage a long time ago, forever a terrorist in the eyes of even other brown people.

What upsets me is how little awareness or conversation there is regarding these issues amongst the Dutch. I remember how hurt I felt in my first year living here when my friends complained that we always end up talking about racism. For them, it’s a subject of discussion. For me, it’s my life. They are much more open-minded now, but it was very discouraging for me when I had just moved here and already was experiencing so much isolation. I’ve talked to many Dutch people who have told me “oh, I didn’t know that racism was still an issue in the Netherlands!” which I suppose is very easy when it’s not visible to you because it doesn’t affect you. But I guarantee that talking to any person of colour and asking them of their experiences will open your eyes. What also upsets me is when my very well-intentioned and open-minded friends make the comment that they “don’t see colour.”

You don’t? So you don’t see my struggle? You don’t see my pain? You don’t see me?

I strongly believe that diversity and being more sensitive to other cultures is an enrichment to any person’s life. I find it very disappointing that not once have the people in my life asked me about my culture. I am an Afghan, I have a very fascinating and beautiful culture! I know that I was not raised in Afghanistan. And I know that I seem (and am) very white-washed. But this was not how I was brought up under the roof of my home. I just conditioned myself growing up to act western so that I wouldn’t be perceived as a threat or stereotype. This past Eid, I had to ASK my friends to wish me a “Happy Eid,” even though I gladly participated in their secret santa, for a holiday which I love but don’t celebrate.

It’s exhausting to feel so unseen all the time. It’s heartbreaking to know that the people that I care about with all my heart will never truly care about me, because they will ignore this entire dimension of my existence. I am neither black nor American, but I have spent the last many days crying because of BLM. I really believe that if we try to understand issues, regardless of whether or not they directly affect us, we will care. And if we care, we can create change!

So to my Dutch friends: do some research, ask POC about their experiences, call out people who make ignorant or hateful comments. Don’t be passive in a system which is hurting people.

By Albena Labib