I am African. I am Ugandan. This is what it says on my passport.
I am a woman. This is what it says on my birth certificate.
But no one buys it.
I am buying vegetables outside a supermarket in Mukono, central Uganda, and a woman from my clan, the Bazigaba, finds me choosing green peppers. You can cook? She asks. I have been back in Uganda for 7 years and two weeks. I still cannot cook, but I can feed myself. I have learned that these are two different things.
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