The ‘shorthand’ labels placed on places and events have enormous power to establish stereotypes that can last forever. Africa has suffered from such negative labels for centuries. Time to put a stop to it.
I love(d) Bridget Jones, the fictional heroine of the hugely successful British film series that started 20 years ago – Bridget was every woman: insecure, weight-obsessed and unlucky in love. I was excited when a new film was released last year, but what stayed with me afterwards had almost nothing to do with Bridget.
Halfway through the movie, we learn that Mark Darcy, Bridget’s husband, is killed on a humanitarian mission in ‘war-torn’ Sudan. Of all the ways he could have died, Sudan offered an easy shorthand we instantly recognise: Africa, conflict, White saviour, tragedy. No further explanation was needed.
That is the power of a label. Britain bestowed itself with the label ‘Great’ — and has managed to hold on to it ever since.
A few weeks ago, a prominent global business media outlet ran a headline about what they called the UAE’s “imperial push” into Africa. Apart from the colonial connotations in the headline, it talked about the UAE’s involvement in a place lazily described as “war-torn Sudan”. Last time I checked, the country was simply called Sudan.
“War-torn” is a label that has become almost permanently attached to a number of African countries, including Sudan.
The problem is not that Sudan isn’t at war. It is. And it is tragic. The problem is that the label reduces an entire country to its worst circumstance, allowing a moment in its 5,000-year history to become its identity.
‘War-torn’ doesn’t allow space for Sudan’s rich history – it is one of the world’s oldest and richest civilisations, home to more pyramids than Egypt, built by the ancient Kingdom of Kush, and sits at a crossroads where the Nile, Africa and the Arab world meet.
It doesn’t allow us to see a country whose artists, writers, designers and models continue to influence culture far beyond its borders.
Sudan has given the world cultural and intellectual giants including pioneering modernist artist Ibrahim El-Salahi, celebrated novelist Tayeb Salih and telecoms entrepreneur and philanthropist Mo Ibrahim. It is also one of Africa’s major gold producers (and that gold is actually part of the story of the current conflict).
Other countries that have been unable to escape the ‘war-torn’ label are Somalia, South Sudan and the DRC.
And it’s not just ‘war-torn’ that’s problematic; labels like tribal, aid-dependent, fragile state, and poverty-stricken are just a few of the many challenging words and phrases that we often use when referring to the continent.
Much of that language and those labels are dated, and describe a continent that appears not to have progressed at all.
Economic cost
Our research at Africa No Filter has shown that media stereotypes about Africa have an economic cost. Investors, business leaders and policymakers make decisions partly based on what they read, watch and hear. If every headline encourages them to think of 54 very different markets as one risky, unstable place called “Africa”, the whole continent pays for that generalisation.
And that’s precisely why we need to change the language we use, because words and phrases matter. And when they’re wrong, they can distort how we understand the world.
Something may be true of a country, a region, a government or even a moment in time, but does it need to be associated with an entire continent in perpetuity?
The continent is changing too. Our vocabulary needs to catch up. And that’s why Africa No Filter launched an online dictionary tool that is creating the building blocks for a whole new language for the continent.
Because labels don’t just describe places; repeated often enough, they define them. And sometimes changing the story starts with changing the words we use.
We have seen elsewhere how changing language, from mental health to LGBTQ+ identities, can bring greater specificity, understanding and humanity. Why not do the same for Africa?
So what can we do?
When we speak or write about the continent, let’s name the three or four countries we mean – not just call it Africa. If you are referring to Sudan, say Sudan without framing it, or provide the context of the conflict if it is important to the story.
I’d love to rewrite the fictional Mark Darcy’s death. I’d keep Sudan, and he’d be there on holiday, exploring the country’s ancient pyramids and attending a Jertiq wedding- a centuries-old UNESCO-recognised Sudanese tradition of celebration and ritual. On a phone call home to Bridget, martini in hand, he could have accidentally choked on the single olive and died.
Same country. Same tragic ending. Entirely different Sudan.
https://dictionary.africanofilter.org/
The post Sticks and stones can break bones – words can break much more appeared first on New African Magazine .
Sticks and stones can break bones – words can break much more
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