Being a British African living in Belgium has been a learning curve for me in terms of experiencing life in the diaspora, and reinforcing my African identity.
For the last 10 years, I have had the privilege of travelling the world and working overseas to gain a wealth of experience.
I call it a privilege because as a UK-born second-generation African, I acknowledge that had I been born in Sierra Leone, my opportunities in life might have been limited.
And nearly four years on, my journey continues as I navigate my way as a British African living in Belgium.
Learning about a city built on colonial exploitation
When arriving in Belgium, I had little to no understanding of the country and its colonial past.
However, living in Brussels means you quickly become aware that part of its wealth was built on exploitation, with statues and street names dotted around the city as reminders.
One statue that repeatedly caught my attention is The Archer, which stands in Etterbeek, an affluent central municipality.
Unlike most statues of Caucasian heroes, this one was of an African man holding a bow without an arrow.
Initially, I appreciated the statue because what I saw was representation, but I soon learned that like many statues across Belgium, The Archer was a depiction of Belgium’s colonial past.
The statue was created in the 20th Century by a Belgian sculptor called Arthur Dupagne, who worked on the exploitation of Congolese diamond fields.
For some, the statue is art, but for others, it is another hurtful symbol and painful reminder of slavery.
Passing by these statues that depict a brutal past has been educational and an eye-opener, and has made me curious about eras of European history that I have not explored.
I have since understood that such statues represent pain for many Africans. Since the tragic death of George Floyd which re-sparked the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, international debate endures over how to deal with monuments worldwide linked to exploitation and slavery.
And this is the case in Belgium too.
The discourse about whether these statues are historical artifacts as opposed to symbolic racism is currently a hot topic.
Since the 2020 BLM demonstrations, several monuments of King Leopold II of Belgium have been vandalised and removed.
And more than 80,000 people signed a petition to remove all remaining statues of him, showing just how much his actions are now reviled.
In the late 19th Century, Belgium inflicted one of history’s most brutal imperial legacies on the Democratic Republic of the Congo (the-then Congo Free State), under King Leopold’s rule.
He was responsible for the deaths of around 10-15 million Congolese, yet there are numerous monuments to him across Belgium, and neighbourhoods and parks also bear his name.
A painful reminder of a harrowing past.
Experiencing the BLM movement through an Afro-Belgian lens instead of Afro-British required me to understand the issues Black people face in a Belgian context.
The troubles created by colonialism are widespread, but the narrative differs slightly from place to place, and country to country.
Ultimately, the fight is universal to change societal norms that marginalise Black people, and stop discrimination and police brutality in their tracks to create a level playing field.
For many Africans living in Europe, there is still a long way to go to heal the pain of this colonial past.
And the statues, monuments and street names in Belgium are constant reminders of an era that had a devastating impact on the population of the Congo.
Finding home away from home in Matongé district
They say home is where the heart is.
For me, it is where African food and hair products reside.
Accessing these items gives me a sense of self, and there is no need to compromise on my unique traits that define me as an African woman.
I was once fortunate enough to live just a five-minute walk from Matongé, a Brussels hotspot renowned for its authentic African culture.
In the late 1950s, Matongé developed into an African quarter after the arrival of an influx of Congolese students.
Named after Kinshasa, the dynamic capital city of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the popular quarter is now a melting pot of African culture, with quirky Belgian bohème vibes.
There is something nostalgic and comforting for me about this African neighbourhood. Perhaps it is the friendly encounters of the local community gathered in one spot, or the familiar hustle and bustle atmosphere of a traditional African market.
Matongé’s one-way street offers countless grocery shops selling everything from dried fish to yams and plantain, and there are traditional clothing boutiques, African restaurants, hair and beauty stores, salons, and barbershops.
And if you have a good head of hair, be prepared for local Congolese hairdressers to approach you, offering their services to skilfully braid it!
Here, I can experience a range of cultures and be sure to find the items I need to keep me in touch with my culture and traditions.
For an African living in Belgium, Matongé is a home away from home.
Privileges of being a second-generation African
As minorities, the BAME (Black, Asian, and minority ethnic) community are raised to work twice as hard as their white counterparts, and to expect challenges and prejudice along the way.
We know that our cherished native names may hinder us when applying for jobs, and I often wonder if my African name, Musu Kargbo-Reffell, has hindered past job searches.
I have been tempted to use one of my English middle names on applications to test this theory – and I know that people who have, have had positive outcomes.
Yet surprisingly, living in Belgium has demonstrated that my Britishness has surpassed some of the limitations I have faced being an African in Britain.
For example, I have felt welcomed in the European job market.
In Brussels, there is a demand for native English speakers, and thanks to this I have enjoyed good work opportunities – for once, not being judged by my African name.
It has not felt like a disadvantage, but instead a badge of honour that represents my identity and roots.
And so being British-African has given me freedoms and opportunities that I might have struggled for in the UK, or perhaps would have had to fight harder for to achieve.
Final Thoughts
Since moving to Brussels, I now recognise that I enjoy certain privileges as a second-generation African, and that these have influenced the experiences and opportunities I have here.
I also recognise that the generations before me worked hard to ensure the privileges that I am able to enjoy and take full advantage of. And being a British African living in Belgium has moulded my thoughts and views in unexpected ways, shaping me into the person I am today.
Let’s have a conversation… If you are an African in the diaspora, what are your own experiences of living where you live? What challenges have you experienced, and how have these affected you?
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