In this short memoir, I recount my own encounters with racism on several countries and historical periods that were turbulent due to migrations and revolutions. My tale starts in the vibrant but intricate fabric of Mozambique’s society, and it revolves around the backdrop of the Portuguese Revolution on April 25.
Mozambique
Despite the ongoing colonial war’s shadow, I lived my youth and adolescence in Lourenço Marques, today known as Maputo, where I was born. Mozambique’s social fabric was made up of a mosaic of Black, White, and Indian people who coexisted peacefully despite their differences. But with a parent who was socialistally inclined and the war escalating, I started to see the fundamental cracks in our mutual peace.
I have a really particular memory from this time period of watching a movie in the long hallway of the building where my parents used to live. We were split by colour, with servants on one side and whites on the other. Laughter filled the air until it was shattered by violence; a friend’s father, rumoured to be affiliated with the PIDE (the secret police), because he believed the blacks were looking at the intimacy parts of the white women’s legs (which they couldn’t because they were watching the movie on the other side of the blanket serving as a screen), attacked a Black child, a boy who was like a brother to me. The brutality of this incident left me in shock, and it was a grim illustration of the oppressive regime under which we lived.
Return to Portugal and the Stigma of the “Retornados”
Following the revolution, I returned to Portugal, a land that was supposed to represent liberation and new beginnings. However, the reality was starkly different. We were seen not as war refugees, but as “retornees” and often with disdain. At public demonstrations, angry exclamations such as “kill the retornados” could be heard (I heard), and at one point, several people began condemning other people who were watching in the margin of the crowd in motion: “That guy is a retornado!” “Look at his colour!”, simply because Whites arrive in Europe with a paler complexion, possibly due to the malaria they frequently contract, highlighting the deep-seated bigotry and misunderstanding. But, happily, I need to mention that this time in my life went well since I got along well with the other adolescents. The hostility was more restricted to select adults, who viewed the “retornees” with suspicion and contempt, frightened that they would take their jobs, and so on, highlighting the different levels of racism that may exist both inside and beyond one’s ethnic group.
Facing Discrimination in France
Seeking a new beginning, I travelled to France to further my studies, I was still a kid 17 years old, but the shadows of discrimination followed. At my first student party, I was reminded of my outsider position. Discussions during the gathering showed racist undercurrents, with some people labelling the Portuguese as inferior people. How could it happen in a country that proclaims to the world, “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité”? It was a disturbing event that taught me that racism and bigotry have no borders; they mutate and thrive wherever ignorance exists.
In conclusion, through these encounters in three nations, as a White, I’ve experienced the various manifestations of racism. It is not limited by geography or history; it is a widespread poison that infiltrates communities under numerous guises. My trip from Mozambique to France taught me the value of challenging biases and working towards a society where diversity is valued rather than ridiculed.