SPAIN/SENEGAL: Between Two Worlds, Searching for Belonging

Sara Sara Rebollo Ramírez reflects on her mixed-race daughters' struggle for belonging and the growing trend of Europeans of African descent returning to their ancestral homelands in search of acceptance and identity.

"Society, with its subtle micro-racism, constantly places them in an intermediate position: too black to be European, too European to be African. “

As the mother of two mixed Spanish–Senegalese daughters, I feel compelled to speak out on an issue that shapes our daily life. I often witness the complexity of a dual identity, which, although a source of richness, can make one feel singled out. Even though my daughters are still young, they already face questions, gestures, and looks that remind them they'll always be "from somewhere else" to many people. And it’s not only from classmates but also from their pediatrician, teachers, and the people around them.

Society, with its subtle micro-racism, constantly places them in an intermediate position: too black to be European, too European to be African. This daily experience has made me reflect on why so many families are deciding to look to Africa as a point of return and reconciliation, searching for belonging and, perhaps, acceptance by society.

Growing racism and the lack of real opportunities in the West are pushing thousands of people—increasingly entire families—to trade stable jobs, comfortable housing, and seemingly secure lives for the possibility of building something freer and more coherent, something closer to their identity.

In many cases, they weren't even raised in the African country where their parents or grandparents came from. They were born and raised in Madrid, Paris, Brussels, or Montreal, and yet they still feel they don't quite belong. They've studied, worked, and paid taxes for years, but one day they realize that no matter how much effort or professional success they achieve, they still face an invisible ceiling: the color of their skin.

No matter how much a person feels they belong to a society, if that society doesn't recognize them as part of it, they'll never truly integrate.

At work, promotions reach a certain point and stop. On the street, police checks seem to follow the same pattern. In the media, hate speech resurges. Even in sport, which seemed to be one of the few areas where talent mattered more than skin color, racism persists. Little by little, the feeling of disconnection grows. Many end up wondering if something better awaits them in the country of their ancestors.

Thus begins the reverse journey of the diaspora: the return to Africa.

But returning isn't always easy. In Senegal, for example, many don't know the local languages (Wolof, Diola, or Soninké), only Spanish, French, or English. They're not fully familiar with the cultural codes of everyday life or the African rhythm, where everything flows differently. They return searching for belonging, but soon discover there are new invisible boundaries. Sometimes locals refer to them as "toubabs" (the local term for white people). Meanwhile, Westerners still see them as "the Africans."

Then there are mixed-race people, those who live in the space between two worlds. Where are they really from? Does the answer really matter? Perhaps the essential thing isn't to choose one sense of belonging, but to reconcile the parts that inhabit us.

Knowing our roots doesn't mean locking ourselves into them. It means understanding where we come from so we can understand who we are today. In the end, the journey back isn't always to a place, but to oneself.

Sometimes, the promised land requires relearning everything from scratch.

Still, many feel they can finally breathe. There's something deeply comforting about walking down the street without being "the other," hearing your name pronounced correctly, or simply not having to answer "where are you from?" over and over—when in reality you share the same culture as the person asking. Even then, they expect more explanations to understand your skin color.

Returning to Africa opens up a broader horizon: belonging without explanations. These endless questions make you wonder where you really belong. And there's nothing more important than knowing yourself before letting others define who you are.

Not everyone understands the decision to leave behind a stable life, steady salary, social security, or a pension "from a rich country." From the outside, it may seem crazy to give up what many consider the dream. But for those who take the plunge, that "security" was never synonymous with freedom.

In the North, life may be full of comforts, but it can also be full of silences, heavy stares, stereotypes, and normalized micro-racism. Returning to Africa, even if it means starting over, brings a feeling of lightness, of coherence, of returning to your own place in the world, not a borrowed one.

Returning to your roots becomes more than a geographical journey. It's an act of hope and personal reaffirmation. It's a way of reconciling yourself with family history, of rediscovering a sense of community that Western individualism has eroded.

Because there's nothing like feeling "at home," even when that home forces you to rebuild yourself from scratch. As a Senegalese proverb says: "Xam sa bopp mo gueun ñou wax kigga donn (You better know yourself than letting others decide who you are.).

There, perhaps, you won't find the answer to everything, but you will find the starting point for becoming yourself again.

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