Black in Argentina

If you've been following my blogs for a while, it should be none too surprising to you that I grew up as a Black girl surrounded by virtually no other folks who looked like me outside of my parents and sister on the daily, my predominantly Black girl scout troop twice a month, and my extended family at family parties and holidays several times a year. Being the only polka dot on a striped shirt is no new experience to me (did I really just use that analogy?? Jesus, please take the wheel...) but not even my entire life could've prepared me for this little piece of my Black History I'm about to share with you today: Being Black in Argentina.

**Dim lights, cue music**

A few years ago, I met a friend from Argentina who made the place out to be Heaven on Earth, so of course I decided at some point that I had to go. I picked a date by which I would buy my ticket, did my research on where to stay, selected a hotel. As luck would have it, the hotel I picked was not only in one of the safest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires, but it was also only a few blocks away from my friend's place, and the neighborhood with the most foreigners. However, much to my surprise, all the foreigners in the world didn't include any Black folks--none!

Well, not absolutely none. If you traveled downtown, you might see a couple African men--I was told that most of them were refugees coming over from Africa, though I forget which country--selling trinkets and souvenirs to tourists passing by. Still, there were no Black women, and other than the maybe six African refugees downtown, there were no other Black men, either. I was very obviously far from a native or local, but it wasn't until my third day in the city that I noticed any special treatment. The first night and full day I was there, I traveled around with my friend and his brother, getting to know the subway system and how to properly order a fried veal dish called milanesa.

Then came day three.

I left my hotel room, said goodbye to the man stationed at the front desk, turned the corner to head down the street to the subway and pass by two guys walking in the opposite direction as me. Both of them say something along the lines of, "hello, beautiful! How are you? You are gorgeous!" in Spanish as I walk by.

That was block one.

I reach an intersection and another couple of guys say something very similar. Block two. By the time I reach the subway station, which isn't any more than a fifteen minute walk, I've been smiled at, complimented, and winked at maybe eight or nine times--in fifteen minutes! Once I get downtown, the special attention continues. As I'm lost and pretending to be answering a text on my phone (but really, I've got Google Maps open, wondering why this automated voice thinks I know how far a Kilometer is) a gentleman glances up at me, keeps walking, looks back over at me again and says, "you look very beautiful! You should smile!" (which apparently isn't nearly as annoying a statement in Spanish as it is in English) This is day three.

The trend continued for days four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten --if I went out to explore alone, I was guaranteed to be flattered all up and down the streets. I was approached a few times about my braids, and even asked how I had them done, the most interesting of the comments by a man who tapped me on the shoulder at a huge feria, or outdoor market, just to tell me he liked my hair and had never seen anything like it before. Halfway through my trip, I connected with Lee, who was also bringing Black Girl Magic to Argentina--and the trend continued! A couple of women at an ice cream shop complimented Lee on her fro and me on my braids; a woman approached us on our way to the punta de la mujer and asked if she could take our pictures for a project; waiters at restaurants winked and smiled at us, and even let us have an entire bottle of wine for only the price of one glass after I forgot to specify how much I wanted (hehehehe....whoops).

So, long story short, Argentina brought my confidence level up to one million, had me singing, "feelin' myself" for two weeks straight! To say that I was amused by all the attention I drew to myself simply by being Black and female in a foreign country would be an understatement--I was quite tickled, and am grateful that I got to experience a beautiful country with such a lively city where I was treated with nothing but kindness, compliments, and extremely discounted bottles of wine (clearly I was a little too excited at the sight of pink wine on the drink menu). I don't think I was expected anything in particular going there, with the exception of possibly being mistaken for someone Brazilian, which surprisingly never occurred. I was especially grateful for the positive experience after watching a YouTube video about a young Black woman's negative experience in rural Spain, where the family she was staying with revealed that they weren't particularly thrilled that she was Black. Of course, I was staying in a huge city in a neighborhood with great diversity, which I'm sure played a role in my stay--but still!

All I know is--Argentina? I'm coming back for you, and next time? I'm about to be rockin' my fro loud and proud...get ready!

What have your experiences as a minority in another country been like? Share them below in the comments!