Africanness is inherently transitory, dynamic, and profoundly elusive.

Words by Bradley “WordPill” Moyo
Additional words by Alex Gwaze (Curator) & Terry-Jo Thorne (Researcher)

What is an African? At first glance, the question seems straightforward, but the more you sit with it, the more layered and complicated it becomes. Is it about ancestry, geography, or skin colour? Is it defined by shared culture, history, or language? The truth is, Africanness is all of these things and none of them at once. It is elusive by nature, refusing confinement, constantly reshaping itself. To define it as something fixed or static is to fundamentally misunderstand its essence.

This idea of identity as something fluid rather than fixed is not new. Paul Gilroy, in The Black Atlantic, conceptualized identity as being shaped by “routes” rather than static “roots.” This metaphor of motion captures the essence of Africanness. Africanness is not a destination; it is a journey. It is movement, adaptation, and evolution. Muchineripi Gwarinda, a lecturer at MSU, told me once: “Africans do not have roots but routes.” These words resonate deeply because they acknowledge that Africanness has always been about movement and exchange, about the constant interplay between tradition and transformation. To understand what it means to be African, one must first understand that migration has been central to the African story from the very beginning.

Firstly, most historians agree that humans first emerged in East Africa about 160,000 years ago. By 80,000 years ago, some of these early humans began to leave the continent, embarking on journeys that would eventually populate the rest of the world. This initial migration is what makes Africa “the cradle of humanity”, the starting point of all human history. But migration didn’t end there. Over millennia, Africans continued to move within and beyond the continent, driven by necessity, curiosity, and survival. For example, the Bantu expansion was one of the largest and most influential migrations in human history, spreading people, languages, and cultures across sub-Saharan Africa. Later, in the 19th century, the Mfecane upheavals scattered Nguni-speaking groups across southern Africa, reshaping communities and territories in their wake.

So you see, movement is not just part of Africa’s history — it is the story. It is in the migrations of its people, the adaptations of its cultures, and the transformations of its identities. But while some of these movements were driven by choice, others were forced by circumstances that left indelible scars on the African consciousness. One cannot discuss the question of Africanness without confronting the horrors of slavery.

For over 400 years, millions of Africans were uprooted and sold into bondage, scattered across the Americas, the Caribbean, and Europe. This forced migration tore families apart and devastated communities, yet it also gave birth to something resilient and remarkable. In new and often hostile lands, displaced Africans carried fragments of their cultures with them, and those fragments became the foundations for entirely new identities. The rhythms of African music evolved into the beats of jazz, blues, house, and hiphop. What is more, African languages blended with colonial tongues to form Creole. Additionally, religious practices and spiritual traditions were reshaped but remained unmistakably African in spirit. The diaspora did not dilute Africanness rather, they expanded it, proving that identity is not confined to a single place or moment, it’s mutable.

But it’s not just the diaspora that was redefining Africanness. As the African diaspora was forging new identities abroad, the continent itself was undergoing another wave of transformation under the weight of colonialism. European powers carved up Africa, imposing foreign systems of governance, religion, borders, languages and culture on its people. Initially, missionaries dismantled traditional belief systems, replacing them with Christianity, while colonial administrators redrew borders that paid no regard to existing ethnic or cultural divisions. Chinua Achebe captured the violence of this upheaval in Things Fall Apart, where the arrival of European missionaries shatters the social and spiritual fabric of an Igbo community.

Adding insult to injury, colonialism also distorted the very idea of what it means to “look African.” In apartheid South Africa, racial identity was reduced to shallow physical markers. The infamous “pencil test” determined whether someone was classified as Black or Coloured based on whether a pencil stayed in their hair. These arbitrary and dehumanizing measures attempted to flatten Africanness into something purely physical, ignoring the vast diversity of the continent. From the Berbers of North Africa to the Zulus of the south, from the Amharas of Ethiopia to the Austronesian ancestry of Madagascar and the trading activities of the Shona of Zimbabwe, Africanness has always encompassed a wide range of features, histories, and geographies. Its diversity is its strength, a mosaic that defies simplistic physical indicators.

This mosaic extends beyond the continent to the millions of people in the diaspora who carry Africa with them in their traditions, languages, blood and identities. Fore example, the Haitian revolutionaries who overthrew colonial rule in the Caribbean, drew on African spiritual and cultural practices to carve out freedom on their terms. And, African Americans, descendants of those forced across the Atlantic, have shaped the modern world in countless ways, from the music of hip-hop to the activism of the civil rights movement. Yet the relationship between Africa and its diaspora is not without tension. Questions of authenticity — who gets to claim Africanness, and on what terms — continue to provoke debate.

Even within Africa, unity is often elusive. Xenophobia, tribalism, and national rivalries undermine the shared identity that could otherwise be a source of strength. For instance, Chidimma Adetshina, a South African model with Nigerian-Mozambican parentage, opted to compete as Miss Universe Nigeria after facing xenophobia in South Africa. When she finished as the first runner-up at Miss Universe, as well as Miss Universe Africa and Oceania, she used her platform to call for unity across the continent. Her message was clear: Africanness is bigger than borders.

Interestingly, Nobel Peace prize winner, Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s vision of a “Rainbow Nation” captured a similar sentiment, emphasizing that Africa’s diversity should not be a source of division but a foundation for unity. Africanness is not a monolith — it is a tapestry of experiences, histories, and identities. What ties these threads together is resilience. Whether it’s the scars of slavery, the battles against colonialism, or today’s struggles with inequality and systemic injustice, Africans—both on the continent and in the diaspora—have always found ways to rise.

This spirit of defiance and determination, this refusal to be defeated, is the essence of what is African. It is what has earned Africans the title of “sons and daughters of the soil,” a phrase that speaks to the deep connection between people and land, between identity and history. Ultimately, Africanness can be summed up in the philosophy of Ubuntu: “I am because you are.” This simple but profound idea reminds us that our humanity is bound together, that our identities are interconnected. To be African is to embrace this legacy of movement, adaptation, and resilience. It is to carry the strength of those who came before while forging new paths for those who will follow.

In the end, Africanness cannot be boxed in or pinned down. It is not about fitting into a narrow definition of what feature you can see or imaginary lines drawn by colonialists — it is about breaking with these traditions entirely. For us Africans, Africanness is a story that continues to be written. It is not confined to the past but alive in the present and unfolding into the future. It is boundless, dynamic, and forever redefining itself.

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Follow Bradley “Word Pill” Moyo: @bradleymoyo19

Bradley, also known as Brvdley The WordPill, is a Zimbabwean expressionist poet and literary enthusiast currently pursuing a BA (Hons) degree in Journalism and Digital Media Studies at Midlands State University. He is the author of the award-winning poetry collection Thalita Koumi, which marked the debut publication of The Aries Rage Mentorship Project.