Colored Legacy

 

It is white. It has red, green, yellow, black, and purple strings sewed into it in such an intricate pattern that one would not dare try to discern them. Its designs start at the nape of my neck and end at the tip of my ankles. Each stringed line starts as a mere line and ends as a cross, symbolizing the influence of Christianity since the very invention of this dress. It is referred to in Amharic as a “Habesha Kemis” as it is the traditional dress of the Amhara ethnic group of Ethiopia.

 

I grew up in the city of Addis Ababa, where everyone cherishes western clothes as a symbol for modernism and disregards traditional ones as being backward and uncivilized. On a regular day, the only people that one could find wearing traditional clothing is old women that don’t feel the same notion as young people. Take my grandmother as an example; since she grew up in a time before western clothes were introduced to the public, this Habesha Kemis is the only thing she feels comfortable wearing. Once, when I asked her why she always wore our cultural clothing, she told me that it was the only way to remember who she is and where she came from. And even though, I understood what she meant by it, I never felt the need to remember the ethnicity or the cultures that I had come from.

 

This is because, as a descendant of the Amhara tribe, I had faced quite a few microaggressions regarding my ethnicity. Since, the Amhara region is predominantly rural, its people were considered as uncivilized by most residents in my town and city. Therefore, this dress, being a representation of the tribe, became something that I grew up being ashamed to wear. Holiday mornings would always start with a fight between my mother and I, as she would want me to wear my Habesha Kemis, but I would want to wear something more “fashionable”.

 

I had not realized, until my tenth grade history classes, the effect that these microaggressions had on me. It took me two years of these classes to realize that I had no actual reason for being ashamed of my heritage. On the contrary, I started to understand that I had so much to be proud of. I learned that the Amhara, as the rulers of the Christian Highland Kingdom, were responsible for the current form of the Ethiopia that I know and love today. It was through this dynasty that the ancient Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity was not only expanded but also preserved. Through the centuries of rule by Amhara kings and queens, it was not just our religion that had managed to stay conserved. It was our clothes, cuisines, dance styles, art forms as well as our languages. As I later learned about the true impacts of colonialism, I realized that these were the things that I could have lost if my ancestors had not fought to preserve them. I started to comprehend that I was taking for granted, something that hundreds of thousands of people had lost their lives to protect. I was taking for granted my culture and my freedom.

 

Hence, today, it doesn’t take a holiday or a fight with my mom to get me to wear this dress. Today, I put on my Habesha Kemis and look at it truly for what it is; the representation of approximately 29 million people, the heritage left to me from the millions of Amhara woman that came before, the imprint of the blood our forefathers shed to keep us from being colonized, the mark of our ancient empires and dynasties, the legacy of our African kingdoms, and the epitome of African excellence. I look at it for the first time the way it deserves to be looked at. I wear it, and all of its intricate colors and designs, with the utmost pride and admiration. For it is not the dress of an uncivilized people, it is the symbol of a people that created civilizations.