Skin color is no longer a marker of a particular identity: Students celebrate their graduation at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Did Zohran Mamdani cheat? Did he fake an African-American identity just to claim certain minority privileges? Is he claiming to be an advocate for a culture that isn't even his own?

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The politician of Indian descent and Muslim faith is running as a Democratic candidate for mayor of New York. During his campaign, he recently faced allegations that, as a prospective student in 2009, he marked not only "Asian" but also "Black or African American" under the "race" category on a Columbia University application form, even though this did not correspond to his ethnicity.

Since the university at the time adhered to fixed quotas for African Americans in the interest of minority support, Mamdani's crosses may have given him a certain advantage. Therefore, Mamdani, who had previously been known primarily for his socialist extremism, is now accused of falsifying his origins. African-American identity should not be abused, said the Black incumbent mayor, Eric Adams. It is firmly tied "to a history, a struggle, and to living experience."

Linguistic treadmill

Zohran Mamdani claimed to have actually been born in Kampala – a statement that prompted John McWhorter to write an op-ed in the New York Times. The African-American linguist is one of the fiercest opponents of the left in the US. He has made a name for himself, in particular, with his criticism of "woke" anti-racism, which, instead of solving the problems of the Black population, preaches a kind of inherited guilt of the white population.

McWhorter now finds it entirely legitimate that left-wing candidate Zohran Mamdani identified himself as an "African American." He wrote in the New York Times that Mamdani did indeed spend some of his childhood in Uganda. He finds the Columbia University application form itself, and in particular the "African American" category, much more problematic. More and more Black Americans are having trouble with this term, he says. It's time to abandon it: "It's time to let it go."

John McWhorter's best argument is based on numbers: There are 2.8 million African-born Americans living in the United States today. Among them are by no means exclusively black citizens, as the example of Elon Musk demonstrates. It is absurd, he argues, for this group to share the label "African American" with those black Americans whose ancestors lived in Africa centuries ago.

McWhorter also harbors a suspicion: "African American" is a coinage of that "euphemistic treadmill" that attempts to eliminate prejudices against an object by simply creating new terms for it. Replacing "bums" (bums) with "homeless" doesn't improve their situation. And in the same way, the term "African American" has never protected "Black Americans" from discrimination.

We should simply start talking about "Blacks" again, McWhorter recommended in the "New York Times." And he recalled the self-confidence conjured up in the 1960s by Black Power activists like the Black Panthers or musicians like James Brown: "Say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud," sang the King of Soul. "Black is beautiful," McWhorter wrote at the end of his article, "African American isn't."

Racist undertones

The linguist seems to have more of an ear for music than historical awareness. This perhaps explains why he relates the term "African American" only to the 1980s: Back then, he claims, intellectuals like preacher Jesse Jackson popularized the term in the mainstream – in imitation of "Italian American" or "Asian American." But that falls short. For one thing, McWhorter forgets that "African American" merely replaced the older term "Afro-Americans." This term had prevailed over terms with racist connotations – especially "Negro."

McWhorter also seems to have missed the fact that the term "Black" is also subject to time and demographic change. Duke Ellington, in the title of his big band suite "Black, Brown and Beige" (1943), already pointed out that the skin color of the "Black" minority was steadily lightening. This was initially due to slave owners abusing female slaves, and later to mixed marriages. And Jesse Jackson, quoted by McWhorter, wrote in the 1980s: "In my household there are seven people and none of us have the same complexion." Seven Black Americans lived in his household, but all had a different skin color; none was Black. However, they were all "of African American heritage."

The term "Black American" is not only inaccurate, it also fails to distinguish between descendants of former slaves and African immigrants. Furthermore, the skin of Asian or Pacific Islander immigrants also exhibits pronounced pigmentation. It's no wonder demographers predict that the white population of America will be a minority in a few decades. They won't be displaced by dark-skinned people; rather, they will gradually merge into a multi-ethnic, mixed society.

A promise

It's understandable that people sought to at least complement the superficial attribute of "Black" with a culturally motivated concept of identity. And the fact that "Afro-American" was a plausible solution in itself is demonstrated by the fact that the term was readily adopted in other languages, such as German. It seems obvious, logical. Beyond that, however, the term "Afro-American" has always resonated with promise.

Where Black people felt discriminated against by whites and not accepted as fully-fledged Americans, they were always able to assert a second identity as "African Americans." For them, Africa became a backward utopia. Since the 19th century, the continent has been glorified and exalted in various ideologies and religions.

So-called Afrocentrism placed Africa—in defiance of Eurocentrism—at the center of world history. And Pan-Africanism awakened hopes for the reunification of Africans with the African diaspora. This euphoria was fueled by dark-skinned rulers like Ethiopia's messiah Haile Selassie as well as by the decolonization of Africa.

Where does the blues come from?

The connection of Black Americans to Africa indeed seemed to manifest itself in their way of life and culture. To this day, for example, African and African-American women are united by a hairstyle cult based on similar methods for dealing with frizzy hair. The Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie describes the skill and patience required by this hairdressing art in her novel "Americanah."

For years, the influence of Africa on African-American music was also considered central. At the beginning of the 20th century, African-American music was separated from the offerings of white musicians in the US music market and banally referred to as "race" or "Black music." The Black musicians who shaped "race music" such as blues and gospel, jazz, and soul suggested that they were incorporating African traditions into their sound.

Springy rhythms, pentatonic scales, blues melodies – these were believed to be a legacy that the slaves seemed to have brought with them to America. Recent research, however, shows that the African components are more difficult to pin down. Whether the blues, for example, originated in Africa is controversial.

The cultural closeness between Africans and African Americans proved to be mostly a belief, not a knowledge. When Black jazz musicians visited Africa in the 1950s and 1960s, they didn't find a home; rather, they experienced culture shock. Based on his own experiences, the famous drummer Art Blakey completely denied the influence of Africa on his music, claiming jazz to be a purely American achievement.

Today, the American music market is quite open to African artists. There are numerous collaborations between rappers and stars of the booming Afrobeats scene. However, these rarely involve American artists drawing on African musical traditions. Rather, it is clear that Africa, too, is musically within the sphere of influence of the United States; Afrobeats often seems like a variation of hip-hop and R&B.

“The whole world”

The unity of Africa was a mythical idea. It should now be clear that the continent is diversifying into a rich diversity. And since postmodernism, at the very latest, African utopias and ideologies have lost their appeal. The relationship of African Americans to Africa has gradually cooled and become more objective. It's no wonder, then, that African Americans like John McWhorter want to abandon the term "African American." American identity is enough for them.

It's hardly fitting for a pale European observer to interfere in the American search for identity. But if terms like "Afro-American," "African American," or "Black American" are no longer appropriate, shouldn't we occasionally dispense with them? The term "American" would then express a national unity shimmering in a variety of colors. This would correspond to an old American ideal: "E pluribus unum" was defined as the national motto by the U.S. Congress as early as 1782: "Out of many, one."