Narrator: In 2016, a British writer named Johny Pitts stood in the Calais "Jungle," a sprawling, makeshift refugee camp in northern France. He had come with a simple, almost utopian idea for a book—a celebratory collection of stylish, successful Black Europeans. But in a small café run by a young Sudanese man named Hishem, that idea crumbled. Hishem, having lost his family and fled war, was trapped in a limbo between Africa and Europe. His story, filled with loss and uncertainty, was a world away from the glamorous "Afropean" identity Pitts had imagined. This encounter forced a profound shift, transforming a potential coffee-table book into a deep, searching journey. It is this journey, documented in Johny Pitts's book Afropean: Notes from Black Europe, that seeks to uncover the complex, often contradictory, reality of Black identity on a continent that is still grappling with its own.

Narrator: The term "Afropean" initially represented a space of belonging for Johny Pitts. It suggested a way to be both Black and European without being defined as "mixed-this, half-that, or black-other." It was an identity that wasn't synonymous with being an immigrant, but rather an active participant in shaping European culture. His original vision was to create a book that celebrated this idea, showcasing successful and stylish Black Europeans.

This vision was shattered by his encounter with Hishem in the Calais "Jungle." Hishem’s story of loss and displacement was a stark reminder of the struggles faced by many Black people in Europe. It revealed the limitations of a purely celebratory narrative and highlighted the tension between aspirational representation and the need to address systemic inequality. Pitts realized that the concept of "Afropean" had to be more than a search for self; it had to be a contribution to a community. It needed to build a bridge over the fences that divide people, acknowledging both the triumphs and the profound struggles that define the Black European experience. This realization set the true course for his journey: to find the Afropeans not just in galleries and fashion shoots, but in the marginalized spaces where their identity was being forged through resilience and resistance.

Narrator: Upon arriving in Paris, Pitts confronts the city's romanticized image, which often erases the presence and history of its Black inhabitants. He joins a "Black Paris" tour led by an African-American woman named Ricki Stevenson, designed to make these hidden histories visible. The tour reveals the deep, often overlooked, Afropean lineage of famous French figures like Alexandre Dumas, whose grandmother was an enslaved West African woman in Haiti. It uncovers the story of the Harlem Hellfighters, the African-American regiment that fought bravely for France in World War I, only to be denied participation in the victory parade by US officials.

Yet, the tour also exposes a disconnect. The African-American tourists on the bus often hold an idealized view of Paris as a post-racial haven, a stark contrast to the realities faced by Afro-French communities. Some even express prejudice towards the very people living in neighborhoods like Château Rouge. This experience forces Pitts to understand that to grasp his own identity as a Black Briton, he cannot simply import an African-American lens. He must look beyond it, to the specific, localized struggles and triumphs of Black people who are, and always have been, intrinsically part of the European story.

Narrator: Pitts travels to Clichy-sous-Bois, a notorious banlieue on the outskirts of Paris. The journey itself, long and disconnected from the city center, highlights the area's profound isolation. This is not an accidental ghetto but the result of historical design, tracing back to Napoleon III's urban renewal projects that pushed poor and immigrant communities to the periphery.

This simmering isolation boiled over in 2005 with the tragic deaths of two teenagers, Zyed Benna and Bouna Traoré. Fleeing from police, they hid in an electrical substation and were electrocuted. Their deaths ignited weeks of riots, exposing the deep-seated mistrust between residents and the state. Pitts meets with Almamy Kanouté, a local activist, who explains that the French government's official "colorblind" universalism makes it impossible to address racism directly. Without acknowledging racial categories, there can be no data on discrimination and no targeted policies. Kanouté argues that this leaves the community without economic power or political representation, perpetuating a cycle of marginalization and ensuring that, as Martin Luther King Jr. said, "a riot is the voice of the unheard."

Narrator: In Brussels, the author confronts a city that actively attempts to conceal its brutal colonial past. The wealth of the city, symbolized by its famous chocolates, is inextricably linked to the violent exploitation of the Congo under King Leopold II. This history is not dead; it is embedded in the city's atmosphere and institutions.

This becomes terrifyingly clear during a visit to the Royal Museum for Central Africa in Tervuren. Built by Leopold II, the museum is a colonial relic, filled with artifacts obtained through violence and displays that perpetuate racist stereotypes. Even as it prepared for a renovation to "retell the story of Africa," the narrative was still being controlled by white Europeans under the banner of Belgian royalty. The experience is a powerful reminder of how colonial propaganda, like the infamous comic Tintin in the Congo, subtly shapes perceptions and normalizes a sense of European superiority. To truly understand the Afropean present, Pitts argues, one must first decolonize their mind from the myths of the European past.

Narrator: The author’s journey is also a search for connection. In Liège, he meets his literary hero, Caryl Phillips, who provides crucial mentorship. Phillips, who left Britain for America to escape being pigeonholed as a "professional black," advises Pitts to use his art as a weapon for change. This encounter leads to another with the dub poet Linton Kwesi Johnson, highlighting the importance of an intergenerational black British canon, a network of support and shared knowledge.

This theme of collective action finds a powerful home in Amsterdam. After a disillusioning Public Enemy concert where revolutionary slogans felt like hollow commodities, Pitts discovers the Black Archives. Run by the New Urban Collective, a group of Afro-Dutch students and professionals, the archives are a living center for resistance. They preserve the hidden histories of Black intellectualism and activism in the Netherlands, such as the story of Surinamese anti-colonialists Hermina and Otto Huiswoud. The archives represent a conscious effort to build community, preserve history, and fight the structural racism that persists even in a society famed for its tolerance.

Narrator: The journey culminates not in a return to Africa, but in the realization that Africa is already in Europe. In Marseille, a city that feels more African and Middle Eastern than stereotypically French, Pitts meets Ibrahim Mohammad, an Egyptian nomad who has been traveling for over 40 years. Ibrahim’s philosophy—that human beings are human beings, regardless of nationality—offers a liberating perspective on identity. He embodies a freedom that transcends borders and fixed categories.

The final stop is Gibraltar, a peculiar remnant of the British Empire. Standing at Europa Point, looking across the strait at the shores of Morocco, Pitts has an epiphany. He had been searching for a place where Africa and Europe meet, but he realizes that this meeting point is not a geographical location. It is a human one. The "Afropean" is not a person caught between two worlds, but a person who embodies the complex, intertwined history of both. Africa was right where he was standing all along, in the people, the stories, and the resilient communities he had encountered across the continent.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Afropean is that Black European identity is not a monolith, nor is it a simple hybrid. It is a dynamic, contested, and deeply historical space. Johny Pitts dismantles the idea of a singular "Black experience" and instead reveals a mosaic of lives, from the activist in the Paris banlieue to the artist in Brussels and the student in Moscow. Each story is a testament to the struggle for belonging in a continent that often refuses to acknowledge its own multicultural reality and colonial past.

Ultimately, the book challenges us to see our own cities differently. It asks us to look past the monuments and grand avenues to find the hidden histories and living communities that truly define the modern European landscape. It is a call to recognize that the "Afropean" story is not an alternative history, but a central, inseparable part of the story of Europe itself.