The Mirror Nobody Wants to Face – When Division Comes From Within

Recently, I wrote a blog called “What I Really Think About White People (And Why It Matters)”. It was honest. It was respectful. And most importantly — it was **mine**. Not to please anyone, but to express a truth I’ve lived with quietly: that not all white people are the enemy, and some have shown me more kindness than the world would expect.

But that blog opened a deeper door. One I’ve avoided for a long time. Because if I’m willing to challenge society’s perception of racism, I also have to challenge **our perception of ourselves.**

A Silent Hatred No One Talks About

I was born in Ghana. Raised around Jamaicans. I’ve always felt connected to both cultures. But growing up, I saw something that confused me:

A silent — sometimes not so silent — tension between Africans and Jamaicans. Stereotypes. Insults. “Jafakeans.” “Back home lot.” “Too loud.” “Too primitive.” And just like that, two people with the same skin, the same pain, and the same roots… became strangers.

It’s Not Just Cultural – It’s Conditioning

Some people will say it’s cultural banter. Some will say it’s not that deep. But when the jokes keep people separate… when the teasing becomes belief… and when an entire group of people becomes a punchline… **it is that deep.**

Because racism isn’t just white vs. Black. **Racism is the belief that someone is “less than” based on where they’re from — and how that “less than” becomes internalized.**

We don’t want to admit it. But some Africans think they’re better than Caribbeans. And some Caribbeans think Africans are backwards. And that silent shame — that quiet judgment — is passed to our kids through body language, tone, and silence.

So What Do We Do With This Truth?

We face it. We sit with it. And we stop pretending that unity only fails because of oppression from outside.

We take accountability for the walls we’ve built between each other. And we ask ourselves: **what would healing look like if we saw ourselves as family, not fragments?**

We were all colonized in different ways. We all wear the scars differently. But we all bleed red.

This Is Why I Build What I Build

Every page on this site. Every prompt. Every terminal. Every product. It’s not just business. It’s therapy in disguise. **It’s my truth — digitized.**

And part of that truth means saying what hurts, without shame. And inviting others to feel seen — even in the parts they’ve buried for years.

If you’ve ever felt judged by people who look like you, you’re not crazy. If you’ve ever been told you’re not “Black enough” because of where you’re from, you’re not weak. You’re just awake. And the more of us who say it out loud — the faster we heal what history tried to keep broken.