One of My Worst Dining Experiences: The Africa Cafe in Cape Town

One of my worst restaurant experiences was undoubtedly at The Africa Cafe in Cape Town, South Africa. I only went because my mostly European housemates and neighbors planned it, and had I known better (or perhaps possessed more commonsense), I would have chosen to not go. Moving on, the restaurant itself featured various dishes from different regions of Africa, including some decent Ethiopian food and a delicious mango chicken dish from Tanzania. In addition to various dishes from each corner of the African continent, I had the misfortune of witnessing the underpaid waiters being forced to 'sing African songs' and dance for the overwhelmingly white clientele. 

It was offensive. No explanations about what language the 'African music' was sung in or specific cultural/ethnic origins for the stereotypical monolithic 'African culture' put on display, such as "African face paint" the servers offered to  do for customers. Of course, a restaurant like The Africa Cafe is meant to appeal to ignorant tourists who likely know very little about Africa (beyond media generalizations), but it was just horrendous. Again, the food was good (super expensive, but endless rounds, though lacking in vegetarian options for some of my party), but the problem of a presentation of a monolithic Africa was disgusting. It would be akin to going to a Europe Cafe in Paris, Berlin, or Rome featuring Bavarian dancing, Portuguese folk music, and Italian opera all thrown together with dishes ranging from ratatouille to borscht. The fact that such resturants don't exist in Europe reveals the persistence of stereotypical and ill-informed narratives of the African continent and its vast diversity, history, cultures.

In addition to my discomfort surrounding the above, a tragic mulatta Dominican-American young woman felt the need to point out my blackness (even though herself, her mother and other siblings, based on photos, all look black or mixed) since, besides the restaurant staff, I was the darkest person in the restaurant. To be more specific, she asked, "Why are you so black?" (Apparently the African sun had darkened my skin a few shades, too, so that likely contributed to her anti-black stance and discomfort. Perhaps I reminded her too much of her mother's African heritage and she couldn't stand to be reminded of it in the presence of white Europeans?) At first I misheard her, but the tragic mulatta repeated herself and what proceeded was certainly one of the strangest restaurant experiences.

 I was initially shocked, and, in retrospect, should have left immediately, but perhaps moved by pity for the tragic mulattoes I have encountered nearly everywhere, I somehow did not tell her off. It's such a pity, too, the young woman's mother is clearly of Afro-Dominican descent and if you saw her walking down the street in the US, one would probably assume she was African-American. And on other occasions she would play up her 'minority card' and "Latino" identity by asserting a connection to a large East Coast city even though she's from a comfortable suburban background. It was clear she struggles with her identity and, depending on the time and place, would cling to stereotypical notions of Dominican and people of color identities while distancing herself from blackness and its disadvantages. Indeed, much like white folks emulating what they see as black youth culture, she wants the 'coolness' of blackness without any of the burden and difficulties because of racism.

But hey, defensive othering is key to so much of Dominican othering of Haiti and Haitians. In order to put on airs and presumably make herself fit in well with our white European dining partners, she had to make jokes about blacks to make herself feel better, distinct, and closer to the elusive whiteness she can't quite grasp. It's really quite pathetic, and though it seemed like some of the Europeans at the table were a little uncomfortable with it (even the proponents of a type of colorblindness ideology prevalent among some whites in Germany and France), nobody said anything.

 But this is the reason I find myself so bored and more than slightly annoyed by tragic mulatto types. Most of them and their obsession with identifying with 'whiteness' and their 'white roots' is really about hiding from blackness and entering into a broadened ideal of whiteness that is on the rise in the US, honorary whiteness. If Bonilla-Silva and other sociologists are correct, honorary whiteness  and the acceptance of such groups under that label by elites and middle-class America will include many light-skinned and 'successful' biracials, light-skinned Latinos, East Asians, and perhaps Arabs and South Asians who aren't too visibly Muslim in today's post-9/11 AmeriKKKa. So, with this expansion of 'whiteness' in American race relations, the multiracial movement reveals its ultimate aim of gaining entry through the gates into their beloved whiteness. 

Oh well, predominantly white tourists can continue reveling in their ignorance and confused and self-hating Dominicans and 'multiracial' Americans can engage in defensive othering in a seemingly endless game for the foreseeable future. All's I'm saying is I am done with awkward and racist dinners and restaurant experiences. Just say no, or get the hell up and go!