Beyond Borders: Rethinking what it means to belong

Beyond Borders: Rethinking what it means to belong

Are you really Kenyan?

Photo by t s on Unsplash

I remember the first time someone directly questioned my Kenyanness.

“Are you really Kenyan?”

It happened in a university class after I argued with my lecturer about the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians by Israel. I was worked up when he tried to draw a comparison between the arbitrary borders that divide communities in Africa and the ongoing ethnic cleansing in Palestine.

“Are you really Kenyan?” he asked again amid my outburst — as if being Kenyan meant being indifferent to the suffering of others. As if my identity could be measured by how patriotic I appeared. As if caring about Palestinians somehow made me less Kenyan. As if there were a specific way to be Kenyan.

I didn’t answer him then. But over time, that question made me realize how nationalism has damaged our sense of shared humanity.

I have seen refugees attacked in shelters. I have watched boats carrying desperate people sink while coast guards stood by — all in the name of protecting borders. Economic struggles are constantly blamed on immigration, even though immigrants often contribute immensely to the economies they join.

“You’re not loyal to our country,” says the overzealous nationalist when you demand freedom for Palestine. “Why should we care about Palestine when we have our own problems?” says another — as if our struggles against corruption, inequality, and corporate greed are not deeply connected to theirs.

Sometimes I wonder: would things be different if there were no borders? Would we see human beings simply as human beings — without titles, passports, or nationalities? Maybe then, we would sympathize more. Or perhaps, we would still find new ways to amplify our differences.

Yet, despite all the division, I’ve also witnessed the opposite — people from vastly different corners of the world showing compassion for those they may never meet.

I’ve seen people who have no connection to Palestine give whatever they can for Gaza. I’ve seen young activists in Palestine Action go to jail for dismantling parts of fighter jets destined for Israel. I’ve watched Italians block ports and roads. I’ve seen people from around the world sail to Gaza in solidarity.

And that gives me hope — hope that we can still choose empathy over indifference, solidarity over silence.

It’s time we stop buying into the narrative of “the barbaric other” painted by politicians and powerful interests. It’s time we start seeing each other for what we truly are — human.