When your father is from tribe X and your mother from tribe Y, which tribe are you? At first, I wasn’t sure whether this was a mathematics question, a biology question, or a cultural one. I only knew that it was complicated, and over time, I realized it was deeply personal.
Born and raised in Kenya, I often heard statements like “You don’t look like a Mijikenda,” or “You don’t look like a Taita,” or even “You don’t look like someone from the coast.” I used to think these were compliments. I would smile, thinking perhaps people saw something unique, something “cool” in me. But over time, I came to understand that such statements were not as flattering as I once believed.
The moment of clarity came when I spoke with a friend of mine who grew up in an interracial household. Her mother is African, and her father is White American. We were talking about identity when she shared a story that changed my perspective. She explained that every time someone said to her “You’re too cool to be African” or “You’re not really white,” it was not meant as a compliment. Those comments came from a place of racism, from narrow-mindedness that tried to confine her identity to what others expected.
Her words made me reflect on my own experiences. I realized that the people who had told me I didn’t look like a Mijikenda were unknowingly denying me my identity. They were not celebrating me. They were enforcing stereotypes. In their minds, a Mijikenda person had to look a certain way. If you didn’t fit that image, your identity was questioned.
Living in a mixed setting, whether racially or tribally, is like walking a tightrope. You are constantly navigating questions, assumptions, and expectations. People often say that being “mixed” is not a real identity. They do not see that you are more than the sum of two halves. I call this experience Kabila Pacha. One from two tribes, but one soul. It is a real and valid identity, and it deserves recognition.
Navigating life this way is not easy. You try to connect with your maternal side, but you are told you are not fully tribe X. You shift toward your paternal side, and suddenly you are not really tribe Y either. You exist in between. You are always watched, always questioned, and sometimes, always doubted. But with time, I have learned to stand firm. I no longer shrink or try to fit into a box that others have made for me.
When people ask me where I come from, I tell them both tribes. I proudly say I am Mijikenda and Taita. I do not separate myself. I am Kabila Pacha. I am whole of two halves, and that wholeness is mine alone. It is not defined by someone else’s expectations or their limited view of what a person from a certain tribe should be. It is defined by my experience, my culture, my blood, and my soul.
Being Kabila Pacha has taught me the importance of self-acceptance. It has taught me that identity is not about fitting into a narrow category. It is about embracing all the parts of yourself, even the ones others struggle to understand. It is about standing tall when others question your existence. It is about saying, without hesitation, “I am both, and I am whole.”
To anyone who exists in between, know this: your identity is valid. You do not have to choose one side over the other. You are allowed to carry multiple heritages and wear them proudly. Being from two tribes, two races, or two worlds is not a limitation. It is a gift. And like me, you can declare to the world that you are Kabila Pacha. One soul, whole of two halves, unshaken and unashamed.
And now, I want to hear from you. Have you ever experienced life as Kabila Pacha? How have you navigated the challenges and celebrations of being from two heritages? Share your story with us in the comments, on social media, or by emailing us at The Afrikan Shujaa Magazine.
What is your opinion about the article you have just read? Let us know.