Over the past six weeks, my travels across the United States have offered me a tiny window into the American spirit: diverse, expressive, and often misunderstood from an outsider’s lens. As an African traveller and journalist, I have been fascinated by how people reveal who they are when stripped of stereotypes and viewed in everyday moments.
I have met more left-leaning Americans than centrists or conservatives, though an encounter in Nogales, Arizona, with a passionate Republican of Mexican descent reminded me that this country’s political landscape is deeply textured. Each conversation, whether about migration, climate, or daily life, revealed a conviction in personal freedom and a belief, sometimes fragile, sometimes fierce in the American dream.
Coming from the African continent, where community often defines identity, I expected Americans to be self-absorbed or individualistic, as they are often portrayed abroad. Instead, I found warmth and curiosity. From hotel staff to academics, taxi drivers to artists, people were generous with their time and stories. Most of the Americans, I have encountered, are remarkably approachable when engaged sincerely. Their sense of optimism, feels deeply ingrained in the national psyche. But I do have to say I have had limited diverse interactions over the course of my travels so this view might change.
This openness contrasts sharply with my experiences in Europe, where interactions often feel reserved and cautious, especially for Black travellers. Most Europeans, in my experience tend to maintain a polite distance, shaped perhaps by a longer history of social stratification and cultural boundaries. In contrast, Americans seem eager to connect, to ask questions, and to share, even when they disagree.
From some of the history I have learned about America during this trip, people can trace their lineage to countries in Europe and other parts of the world many generations back. It would not be inaccurate to deduce that this country was largely made by immigrants who came here hundreds of years ago. Yet, immigration nowadays is a hot button topic that has taken a rather extreme approach if you are a minority.
Racial discrimination is a lived experience for these minority communities in America, with black people facing the bulk of it. The discrimination against them that is a legacy of enslavement persists and is perpetuated by economic, health, education, law enforcement, and housing, and other systemic policies and practices that fail to adequately address racial disparities—part of the ongoing structural racism and racial subjugation that prevents many Black people from advancing, and facilitates police violence, housing segregation, and a lack of access to education and employment opportunities, among other things, according to OR as reported by the (Human Rights Watch and& American Civil Liberties Union, 2022., para. 6).
Still, I recognize that my perspective is limited. Most of the Americans I met belong to the middle or upper social class and my impressions cannot represent the whole. I have also noticed the relative absence of a significant number of Black Americans in the spaces I have travelled through, including conferences, some media houses, fellowship events,and academic visits. Moving around as a black man has been an illuminating reversal of perspective: a reminder of how power and visibility shape belonging.
Ultimately, this journey has taught me that the United States is not one story but many. Its people, despite polarization and inequity, share a willingness to engage the world. For an outsider like me, that warmth, both unexpected and genuine, has been the most enduring souvenir.
