As I look back on 2024, it is ending coincidentally the same way it started for me—with a return to my roots and on solid footing with who I truly am.
I woke up on January 1, 2024 in Ghana. My husband and I had planned a trip there with our 11-year-old son as a Christmas present to ourselves. On New Year’s Eve of last year, we visited a small village in Kumasi where the King and Queen, accompanied by members of Ghanaian nobility, greeted us for an African naming ceremony. Upon arrival, the Queen took my hand and gently guided me to her chambers where I was dressed in African ceremonial clothing from head to toe. My husband and son were guided into a separate chamber. After being dressed, we emerged onto an outdoor amphitheater stage where the naming ceremony began.
The King’s Blessing.
Chants were hollered in an all too familiar way that reminded me of the Baptist revivals I had attended in my youth. Our shoulders were dusted with a feathery brush in a well-choreographed ceremonial praise and worship dance. One by one we were summoned to approach the King’s throne for what I interpreted to be a blessing he bestowed upon us. The King spoke in his native Akan language. His spokesman loosely translated: “It is no coincidence you are here. You could have been anywhere in the world, yet you chose to be here. You are our long-lost cousins from America. Akwaaba! You are home now. Welcome!”
I had not been emotional for the entire trip, not even visiting the slave dungeons of Elmina Castle and the Door of No Return. But now, suddenly I had a lump in my throat, fighting back tears.
The King’s spokesman continued his loose translation of the blessing: “His majesty hereby declares you citizens of the Kingdom. Your choice to return to your ancestral homeland on this very important day of the year is something our Kingdom does not take lightly. You were meant to be here. You belong here.”
The King’s spokesman went on to explain that my husband, son and I would be given official documents at the end of the ceremony to claim our new status in the village and dual citizenship. Then, I received my new Akan name.
Nana Yaa.
The traditional name for a female born on a Thursday is, “Yaa,” which also means lover of freedom, beauty and spirituality, while “Nana” is a title of nobility. My husband’s Akan name is Nana Kwabena, royalty born on a Tuesday, and my son’s name is Barima Kwadwo, a prince born on a Monday. We were all given an additional name the village elders deemed suitable for our personalities and with that, the ceremony concluded with a gin toast and photos with the royal court.
Tears flooded my eyes. I was touched by the high level of regard given to me and my family.
It’s not like this in the United States.
As a Black woman born and raised in the U.S. I have experienced various levels of hate, from the everyday racism that most Black people experience in the U.S. to deeper levels of bigotry and discrimination. It was such a stark contrast to the love I experienced in Africa. During the trip, I began to fight thoughts of going back to the U.S. and a society where topics of Blackness in generic settings are typically ignored, avoided or hotly debated, instead of elevated and celebrated.
As the trip continued on, my family and I easily adjusted to moving through our newly adopted society where Black cultural norms were dominant. Braids, wigs, and weaves are adorned by heads of state and the working class equally in Africa. Bright colors and bold patterns are favored over blue suits over there (and you could go days without seeing a pair of khakis). Music and dancing, the arts, museums and education effortlessly include us.
What It Is, Is What Has Always Been.
Returning to my American home from the Motherland gave me a greater perspective on what is.
How many children call their grandmothers, “Nana” in the U.S.? “Wow, that’s African,” I now think. How many people eat gumbo and black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day? These foods are a lot like okra stew and a dish called “red red” that I was introduced to back in Ghana. How many of us can cornrow hair with no formal instruction? That’s an African skill that is innately in us.
In 2024, I would have these “African moments,” as I call them, spring up throughout the year. I came to the conclusion that who we are, and what we do is always who we’ve been. African is what it is and African is who we African Americans have always been at our core.
The Midway Point.
About midway through the year, I started noticing that people were randomly reaching out to ask if I could host events and interview celebrities for them like I used to do on TV a few years ago. Conducting interviews at the PBS Capitol Fourth concert and hosting the Executive Leadership Council’s red carpet got the ball rolling this summer. It wasn’t until I received a note this fall from a publicist with a request for me to interview her client, the executive producer of one of my favorite shows All American that I took it as a sign that I seriously needed to return to my journalistic roots. I had just finished binge-watching the first five seasons of All American on Netflix and then out of the blue, I got a message in my inbox inviting me to meet and interview the show’s executive producer this past fall. It was unreal and I jumped at the opportunity. A few weeks before that, I got a call from my agent that I booked an acting job on Law & Order: Organized Crime. Then, I was invited to host and moderate a panel at the Department of Justice with MSNBC’s Symone Sanders and CNN’s Laura Coates based on the Vice News documentary, When Black Women Go Missing.
Booked & Busy.
It was crazy because I hadn’t booked much work with my agent since COVID struck, and now I’m booked and busy, and working on one of the biggest shows in TV history?! How does this happen?! I took it as another sign that it was time to fully return to my roots and embrace my purpose and passion for being a storyteller in every sense of the word. I decided to relaunch my podcast after two years of it being dormant. I also renamed it More to the Story with Markette Sheppard and featured the executive producer of All American in the first episode. I’ll also have an entire show dedicated to my Law & Order experience when the episode I contributed to as an actor premieres in 2025.
I’m excited for what’s ahead and firmly planting my feet on a foundation that’s rooted in my history and my purpose as I say goodbye to 2024 and hello to 2025.
Tidings of Comfort & Joy.
While 2024 has not been without struggles, I am looking forward through the lens of faith with the comforting words of Jeremiah 29:11 in my mind and close to my heart.
“For I know the plans that I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
With that, I wish you all the comfort, joy and resilience destined for you in 2025.
Cheers to the New Year.
