Africans Were Never Meant to Be Modest

Africans were never supposed to be modest, at least not in the contemporary sense.

African societies used colour, texture, sound, movement, and presence to convey their identities throughout the continent. Clothing was language, not just a means of covering one's body. Vibrant cloths, extravagant headpieces, vibrant patterns, and rich beading weren't excessive. They were exchanging messages. They shared tales of ancestry, social standing, joy, sorrow, fertility, defiance, and a sense of belonging.

Being African meant taking up space, and it still does.

This fact is reflected in traditional clothing from many civilizations. African clothing is unabashedly vibrant, from the colourful kente of West Africa to the intricately patterned shweshwe of Southern Africa, from Maasai beadwork to Ndebele body murals. Neutrality is rejected. It doesn't mumble. It declares. The expression was not limited to attire. African tribes placed a high priority on dance, ululation, public emotion, oral storytelling, rhythm, movement, and group laughter. Expression was embodied and collaborative. The default was not silence. There was presence.

Then colonialism came, bringing a new moral hierarchy with it.

Western values of moderation, humility, and "proper" conduct were enforced by colonial and missionary systems. Loudness turned into a weakness. The colour became excessive. Arrogance replaced confidence. African fashion and expression were portrayed as outdated, obscene, or indecent. Modesty became disciplinary rather than cultural. Suddenly, what had been usual was embarrassing. After independence, this legacy persisted. It followed us into our homes, offices, churches, and schools. Many Africans are still told today that we are too much, either overtly or covertly. Too much noise. Overly expressive. Too sentimental. Too much colour. Too obvious.

African ladies in particular.

We have police on our bodies. We soften our voices. Our clothes are examined. Our self-assurance gets reframed as hostility. In environments that are still dominated by colonial ideals of professionalism and respectability, we are frequently urged to shrink, neutralize ourselves, and blend in. However, "too much" is not a sign of weakness. It is a cultural legacy that cannot be eliminated. It is not a denial of respect, discipline, or dignity to declare that Africans were never meant to be modest. It is to reject a form of humility that is based on control and repression. African cultures knew what it meant to be dignified without vanishing. Honor without being silent. Power without regret.

We weren't supposed to be modest. It is not necessary to adjust our brightness, loudness, movement, or presence. These are things to keep in mind.

And reclaim.