During this trip I’ve been so preoccupied with finding Africans– and so thrilled when I make a connection with them– that I haven’t really thought about how I come across to Turkish people. The African population, after all, while existent, isn’t that big. In Istanbul, there hasn’t been much of a problem. However, Antioch is a different story.

One woman pointed to me, then to her arms and face, and then at my skin in amazement, as if she couldn’t believe that one human could be so dark. One little boy on the street stopped to stare at me for literally two minutes. I tried to engage in a conversation about his bike with him, but he wasn’t having it.

Picture by Caroline Pahl

A local art store owner, though, reassured me that the people’s reaction was not out of spite. “They are not racist,” he said, “but many of them rarely see someone of your color.”

Strange. But fair. No one is disrespectful of me, and no one has denied me anything. Instead of just feeling uncomfortable myself, I need to put myself in their shoes: If I saw someone different from me for the first time, I’d give them a glance, too.