Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah Quotes
There are many different ways to be poor in the world but increasingly there seems to be one single way to be rich.
Dear Non-American Black, when you make the choice to come to America, you become black. Stop arguing. Stop saying I'm Jamaican or I'm Ghanaian. America doesn't care.
Race doesn't really exist for you because it has never been a barrier. Black folks don't have that choice.
Soon, " he said in his letter. They said "soon" to each other often, and "soon" gave their plan the weight of something real.
Try more strategy and less force. Passion never wins any game, never mind what they say.” He said something similar now: “Excuses don’t win a game. You should try strategy.
It doesn't have to be dreads. You can wear an Afro, or braids like you used to. There's a lot you can do with natural hair
White writers can be blunt about race and get all activist because their anger isn’t threatening
he lived in London indeed but invisibly, his existence like an erased pencil sketch
Maybe it’s time to just scrap the word “racist.” Find something new. Like Racial Disorder Syndrome. And we could have different categories for sufferers of this syndrome: mild, medium, and acute.
One day, I will look up and all the people I know will be dead or abroad.
...she thought of him as a person who did not have a normal spine, but had instead, a firm reed of goodness.
They never said “I don’t know.” They said, instead, “I’m not sure, ” which did not give any information but still suggested the possibility of knowledge.
femelu could not understand this, her mother’s ability to tell herself stories about her reality that did not even resemble her reality
Ma? I think you have the spirit of husband-repelling. You are too hard, ma, you will not find a husband. But my pastor can destroy that spirit.
A book did not qualify as literature unless it had polysyllabic words and incomprehensible passages.
Ifemelu thought about the expression "sweet girl." Sweet girl meant that, for a long time, Don had molded Ranyinudo into a malleable shape, or that she had allowed him to think he had.
Sometimes she worried that she was too happy. . . And her joy would become a restless thing, flapping its wings inside her, as though looking for an opening to fly away.
