Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie – Uncomfortable Truths

At the opening of the Humboldt Forum in October, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, author of the bestseller We Should All be Feminists (2014), is delivering a 20 minute speech. Her audience consists of middle-aged and older men and women, who are predominantly white. As they mark the inauguration, they listen closely for the duration. The Nigerian author uses the time to explain a few things. 

She tells her audience stories. Not the kind of nice stories you listen to before you go to sleep, but more the uncomfortable kind that makes you stop and think. True crime stories. She speaks about the colonial history of Europe in Africa: genocide, slavery and looting. And the guilt of which Europe is trying to absolve itself.

A story is only ever true if it is told in full, says Chimamanda, referring to colonial history, which is taught only in fragments at German schools. She speaks about the omissions, the way the significance of what went on is played down, and about Europe’s responsibility to face up to its colonial past. She goes on to quote the former French president Nicolas Sarkozy: “Mistakes were made and crimes committed. But no one can ask of the generations of today to expiate this crime perpetrated by past generations.” Words that illustrate her point and make it unshakably real. They epitomise the way Europe has handled its colonial past. Europe says: “Yes, there was colonialism, but …” – and it’s this ‘but’ that is the problem, as history tends to focus on what comes after it, whereas what’s actually more important is the part before. The word ‘but’ absolves Europe of any responsibility for facing up to its history. “Because to tell only one part of the story is essentially to lie,” says Chimamanda. She is greeted with silence. Her tone is serious, resolute, proud. Yet rather than telling tales of blame, hers are stories of justice, injustice and people.

There she stands for 20 minutes, a black woman before a largely white audience, using the time to show her listeners that which is dividing humanity: racism. The words, time and energy she has invested in her speech are a gift to anyone who has not yet understood why Germany is responsible for returning the art it has stolen. They are a gift because they cannot be taken for granted, an invitation to those who nurture, feed and uphold patriarchal structures to listen and learn consideration. The fact that she seeks a dialogue with those who are a part of the problem is a sign of her courage and inner strength. Speaking to people who are prevented from seeing their own guilt and facing up to some uncomfortable truths by their own comfortable, privileged position can be frustrating.

Chimamanda’s speech is all the more valuable because of it. She explains, in an accessible way, how she feels to have to intervene in a racist discussion about stolen art, addressing the punishing question of whether the artefacts should be returned. The answer? Of course they should. They should never have been stolen in the first place. The audience listens.

The question asked by one German newspaper – “Where do Africa’s treasures belong?” – would never be asked the other way around, says Chimamanda: “Where do Germany’s treasures belong?” Why? Because of the nature and distribution of power. The distribution of power is a problem we need to confront. The content of a story is important, of course, but the person telling it matters just as much, if not more. So, surely, what we should actually be asking ourselves is: Who has the power to make decisions? Who has the power to speak in public? Whose books do we read? Whose rules do we follow? Who do we listen to?

Anyone listening will understand what is being said. At least they would if the world took a different perspective on listening, because far too often, when there’s an opportunity to listen to someone, we don’t take it. Instead, we take uncomfortable truths and criticisms personally. But what if listening were seen as an opportunity to change ourselves and the way we think? If changing yourself were actually a good thing? If we had the courage not to argue back, justify ourselves or feel under attack? Instead, we could use our inner strength to nod, keep quiet and understand. Because active listening has a lot to do with courage, admitting mistakes and recognising structural problems – because unless you see a mistake, you can’t fix it.

Chimamanda started her speech by saying she believes in communication. Her discourse is an important starting point for a reappraisal of our racist history as we have told it for so long – and which to this day is not told enough. It’s because of the way we deal with listening. Who are we open to listening to? And how much do we want to hear? Because the more we listen to those who have too little space in a patriarchal society, the better our chances of breaking down racist structures and taking deliberate steps against them. Because as Chimamanda says: “To tell only one part of the story is essentially to lie.”

Written by Amelie Kahl.