Black Scholarship, Diasporic Dialogues, and Radical Presence in Dakar
- Centre for Pan-African Studies
- Jul 22
- 5 min read
By Mikal Woldu
What does it mean to hold a conference on the Global Black experience on the African continent? What does it signal—to gather, as Black scholars, in a space not defined by marginality but by centrality, by belonging? On May 14-18 I had the opportunity to attend the Anthropology and the Black Experience conference in Dakar, Senegal—a gathering that foregrounded not only the rich intellectual traditions of the Black world, but also the political urgency of reclaiming the conditions under which knowledge about Black life is produced.
The conference explored the unique contributions and experiences of Black scholars in anthropology, emphasizing the rich tapestry of knowledge, methodologies, and insights they bring to the discipline. It brought together researchers, and students from all over Africa and the African diaspora, representing all anthropological sub-disciplines and related fields to reflect on the history and practice of anthropology in and about Africa and the African diaspora, the contributions of people of African descent in the field, and the latest innovations in research and writing on Black communities.
In a time when right-wing nationalism, anti-Black racism, and immigration restrictions continue to shrink the space for movement—especially for Global South scholars—this conference offered a counter-vision. One where Black scholars, students, and activists from across the world converged on the continent not as an afterthought, but as the very basis of our scholarly and political community.
Organised and hosted by the Association of Black Anthropologists (ABA), the Society of Black Archaeologists (SBA), and the Black in Biological Anthropology Collective (BiBA), the decision to host the conference in Dakar was not merely logistical—it was conceptual. Dakar, long a site of Pan-African thought and anticolonial struggle, felt like a return to a critical centre. Held at the stunning Musée des Civilisations Noires (Museum of Black Civilisations), the conference was set within an institution born of a vision articulated decades ago by Senegal’s first president, Léopold Sédar Senghor. The museum stands not just as a collection of artefacts, but as an active political project—a place that insists on Black people’s right to narrate our own histories and futures. On any given day during the conference, school groups wandered the museum halls. Exhibits on the Black Atlantic sat alongside installations on youth movements, feminist resistance, and spiritual traditions.
From the Margins to the Centre: Challenging the Architecture of Exclusion
What struck me most was the depth of participation by scholars from across the Black world—Brazil, Haiti, Cape Verde, South Africa, the US, Ghana, Nigeria, the UK, and more. Their contributions did more than fill panels; they reimagined the epistemic terrain of anthropology.
Among the many concurrent panels that took place, I have heard about Shona-speaking communities in Nairobi and how language and mobility intersect in African urban contexts (Mungai Mutonya); the complexities of heritage and belonging among second-generation Haitians in the Bahamas, where Blackness is not the marker of otherness—heritage is (Bertin M. Louis Jr); and the use of the term extermínio by Brazilian youth movements to name state-led anti-Black violence, where three out of every four people killed in police custody are Black (Paulo Henrique Ferreira). A roundtable on African Diasporic Religious Feminisms further exposed how colonial hierarchies persist in the valuation of spiritual and religious practices, typically undermining and/or commodifying spirtual practices of indigenous communities (Donna Auston, Erica Williams, Andrea Allen, Aisha Beliso-De Jesus and Nessette Falu).
The conference also made visible the political consequences of academic exclusion. In the Global North, African scholars often face systemic barriers to participation: inaccessible fees, hostile visa regimes, and institutional gatekeeping. These exclusions are not incidental—they shape what is considered legitimate knowledge, and who is authorized to produce it. The Dakar conference offered a powerful response. With a clearly tiered fee structure, funding for those in need, and deliberate outreach to graduate students and scholars across the diaspora, it modeled what inclusive scholarship can look like when it’s not an afterthought but a principle of design. This raises a critical question: how much of so-called “African Studies” is complicit in the exclusion of African scholars themselves? How long can we maintain conferences in Europe or North America where African presence is exceptional rather than essential?
Building Black Scholarly Futures
The intellectual themes of the conference were expansive and interconnected. We wrestled with anthropology’s colonial legacies, yes—but we also centered its radical possibilities when led intentionally by Black scholars. We explored return migration, linguistic justice, gendered violence, community-based research, and new methodologies emerging from within Black communities themselves. Many of those who I have interacted with were activists and community organisers first, and pursued academia as mean to understand, record, theorise, resist and provide language to issues that affected their communities - as narrow or loosely as they defined them.
For me, as a second-generation African scholar exploring return migration and diasporic relationships to the continent, the space was especially resonant. I was not alone in this work. Across sessions and informal gatherings, I met others grappling with similar questions: what does it mean to come “back”? What does return look like when it’s entangled with longing, critique, and possibility? How do we negotiate and make sense of the privileges that many of us hold by virtue of being scholars based in the diaspora? How do we ensure that we reflect on our positionality of privileges not only in our work as Anthropologists, but also in our encounters with Africans in Africa in our day to day?
Beyond the panels, Dakar itself offered what Aaryan Morrison calls “return infrastructures”—spaces and initiatives that turn the idea of return into both a physical journey and a public narrative that shapes race formation among diasporans. These infrastructures don’t just welcome the diaspora; they shape who gets to belong. As Morrison argues, they help produce new social categories often marked by both opportunity and tension, shaped by class, identity, and the politics of visibility, which I also found in my own research among second generation Africans relocating to the African continent. Visiting Gorée Island, the African Renaissance Monument, and the Museum of Black Civilisations, I felt the weight of this dynamic. These weren’t just historic sites—they were active stages where stories of loss, return, and future-making played out in real time.
Dr Mikal Woldu is a UKRI Future Leaders Postdoctoral Research fellow (2023-2026) within the Department of Politics and International Relations at SOAS.