The word of the day is mzungu—Bantu for white person. Although more common in Nairobi proper, once one enters the surrounding towns, mzungus are rare. I have not seen another Caucasian in this town yet, lol. I cannot blend in here, for both better and worse. Groups of kids walking home from school turn to stare at me and may say hello in English before returning to talk to each other in Swahili, sometimes covering their mouths as they do. Maybe, it offers me some protection against violent crime, but locals see me and the price of whatever I want to buy may immediately dramatically increase. They think I have lots of money. Generally, I will go shopping with one of my shelter hosts for this reason. I can stand back while they haggle on my behalf.
I asked Oscar, the shelter leader here at HAIG Shelter (Humanity Aid Initiative Group) if the local hair salons/barbers could do white hair. He said they could, so I’ll need to book a haircut before long. I have come to not take myself nearly as seriously as I used to. I don’t care when the kids laugh or adults stare. Although I can share the experience of instantly being recognized as an outsider with Black people in the US in a “white man’s world”, I still benefit from privilege as a mzungu. I could not go anywhere on the planet where I would not benefit from having white skin.
The majority of the refugees I have encountered here in the LGBTQ community who came into this world designated as female have experienced physical abuse by men as well as rape, often more than once, and often by more than one man at a time. Gender based violence affects those who entered this world with vaginas and “effeminate” phenotypic males. Misogyny is real, and refugees have negligible recourse. If, for example, you walk alone as a woman from DRC to Kenya to escape tribal violence, you will make an easy target—regardless of your sexuality. Some of the phenotypic female refugees here have children whom they have not seen in several years–children they may not have conceived consensually, but still love and miss terribly.
I am so very white. And so very privileged. Fortunately, my life has not resembled the refugees’. At least I can try to use the unmerited blessings I have received to help others. God didn’t get me through medical school and residency just to become a minion for a huge corporation.

