Olaudah Equiano and the Anti-Ethnography of Blackness

Abstract

This essay considers the abolitionist narrative, The Life of Olaudah Equiano, through the anthropological lens of ethnography. Equiano’s account, though not without controversy, contributes to the evolution of an African cultural consciousness that would span across multiple continents. In that sense, while this autobiography seems to follow the literary pattern of its contemporary slave narratives, it is also countercultural and qualifies as “anti-ethnography”. The review presented here focuses on two sections of Equiano’s work: (1) the Afrocentric account of Ibo culture and (2) the cultural commentary regarding enslavement in the Americas. For each section, Equiano’s deviation from the traditional slave narrative is highlighted and analyzed.

1. Introduction

Although still “uncanonized” [1], Olaudah Equiano’s narrative is considered one of the precursors in international abolitionist literature. The events recorded in his autobiography spread across four continents, and for each location, an ethnographic account (snapshot of an entire cultural group at a given time) is provided. The text, therefore, resembles a chologist’s travel account where the narrator has the particularity of being not only black but African. Ethnographic narratives are characterized by a specific feature: a snapshot of an entire culture at a given time. They include the descriptions of institutions such as political organization, sexual (courtship and marriage) structures, religion, and economy. Ethnographies were first written by people from an alien culture, commonly to further a given political or economic agenda. For example, the Spaniards who would write about Natives in America were funded and sent by their government. In these narratives, colonizers and Western researchers often played God when writing about the soon-to-be colonized people, not only to belittle their humanity by exacerbating their otherness and exoticism but also because they would control the colonized better if they knew every aspect of their lives. Inversely, as they wrote about their own people in Africa or on the plantation in the Americas, black writers demonstrated authority over themselves: they showed that blacks have the ability to evaluate their own condition and express their evaluation orally and in writing. Furthermore, anthropological theory states that when an ethnographic account is written by someone from the culture that is being described, the effect tends not to be to belittle the culture but quite the contrary. In that sense, most emic ethnographies of life in Africa or on the plantation in early black literature are actually “anti-ethnographies” as they go against the Western, “Enlightened” ethnographic trends of the time. Such a dialectical opposition to the literary promotion of the “law, institutions and contracts” [2] of this Enlightenment-era can be related to what Deleuze calls “Nomad Thought”, that is, the Nietzschean “counter-Enlightenment culture” [3].

Narratives such as Olaudah Equiano’s autobiography fall within this “nomad thought” category, and the counter-current notions of black dignity and injustice done to blacks worldwide are communicated via the very structure of the narrative. Another counter-discipline consideration of Equiano’s narrative can be found in the work of Keeler (2021), who argues that the autobiography constitutes an anthropological account of Ibo cosmologies where interactions with nonhuman animals are central to the culture. In Keller’s framework, Equiano’s account is an anti-ethnography of anthrozoological proportions, as opposed to the present essay, which focuses on human interactions [4]. Equiano’s text has the structure of a slave narrative, that is, a three-part organization that describes enslavement, escape, and freedom. In addition, it also features structural characteristics of a spiritual autobiography, comparable to the writings of St. Augustine of John Bunyant: sin and ignorance, conversion, and rebirth. One could consider other schools of thought that were at the forefront during this period, namely, Daniel Defoe and Jonathan Swift’s descriptive travel narratives, as well as the thematic of the hard-working youth rising from rags to riches such as Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography and James F. Cooper’s noble savage ideal. The Life of Olaudah Equiano targeted a variety of audiences: American and European abolitionists, religious and humanitarian readers, and British political leaders. Such a variety justifies the author’s strategic use of different narrative structures and contemporary schools of thought.

While Vincent Carretta speaks of “the various disciplinary approaches” to Equiano’s narrative (45), this review essay draws on the anthropological aspect of Equiano’s autobiography, occasionally referencing some of the more canonical works of cultural ethnography preceding Equiano or contemporary [5]. In the first part, I detail the manner in which the author exploits the romantic myth of Africa as he describes African life, drawing on the notion of Afrocentrism and Equiano’s use of this stance to allocate value to the African contribution to the world. The second part examines the author’s narrative of life in the New World as a critical ethnography not only of corruption in the Americas but also as a place of awakening and self-identification for Africans. Some have criticized Equiano for his eventual status as an Englishman, equating his achievements with acculturation: converting to Christianity, marrying a white Englishwoman, prolifically mastering the spoken and written English language, his place of residence, his wealth, etc. The present analysis, however, demonstrates that by humanizing the Ibo society and the enslaved of the Americas, the author highlights the commonality between Africanness and the English culture with whom he would be associated. Equiano did not compromise his identity because, as his narrative shows, the traits that made him a distinguished Englishman can also be found in Ibo culture.

2. Anti-Ethnography 1: Life in Africa and the Afrocentric Account

In the first chapter of his autobiography, Equiano describes life in West Africa in the 18th century as peaceful. Effectively, efforts are made to preserve order and peace, especially through institutions and judges who “decided disputes and punished crimes” [6] (11). The place is depicted as harmonious and thriving: Equiano mentions the absence of beggars, the general healthiness of the people, and their general cheerfulness and affability. His allusion to complexion as a sign of healthiness and lack of deformity is noteworthy as well, as the degree of skin darkness in the New World has often been commensurate with unattractiveness in the New World.

The utopic and romantic myth of Africa is also one of abundance. In effect, the narrator calls his birthplace a “charming fruitful vale” that is “uncommonly rich and fruitful” (10, 15). This is a fertile land where even American corn can grow. The people are reported to be joyful and creative, as illustrated in the phrase “a nation of dancers, musicians, and poets” (12). Events are celebrated with feasts, which imply the availability of food.

Among other cultural universals, Equiano’s ethnographic account also describes moral norms. In the very beginning, he explains that crimes, especially adultery, are taken very seriously and sanctioned with much severity (such a statement differs greatly from his description of the slave masters’ common sexual abuse of their female slaves in the Americas). As for courtship, Guinean women are praised for their chastity in regard to premarital relationships: “I do not remember to have ever heard of instance of incontinence amongst them before marriage” (15). Equiano would also express equal commendation for the chaste behavior of the Indigenous men and women of Cabo Gracias a Dios when he traveled through the Caribbean. The narrator goes on to state that the Ibos are “unacquainted with strong or spirituous liquors”. This indicates temperance and refusal to obey one’s impulses. The association between cleanliness and decency is also prevalent, as illustrated by the recurrent allusion to ablutions throughout the text. This is reminiscent of John Wesley, Equiano’s contemporary fellow abolitionist, who is credited for coining the phrase: “cleanliness is next to godliness”. As he laid the foundation of the Methodist Church, Wesley indeed stated that Equiano’s narrative was a significant source of influence and inspiration. As Equiano had converted to Christianity at least three decades prior to writing his ethnography, one can argue that his account of the Ibo moral standards seeks to create an analogy between Western or Christian views that were prevalent in his readers’ society. However, the works of more recent scholars seem to indicate that this analogy may not be so didactic, as it may be rooted in the early westward expansion of African Christianity in the first and second centuries. For instance, in The Africans: A Triple Heritage, Ali Mazrui claims that even though West African Christianity would be interrupted by the spread of Islam, it prepared Africans culturally for the acceptance of Christianity that would later be brought about to them by way of the transatlantic slave trade and European colonization [7]. In other words, Africans, whether in their homelands or in the New World, would find familiarity within Christianity and, therefore, did not adopt these beliefs blindly but rather out of recognition. Likewise, Stewart argues that, for Equiano, the appeal of the Methodist faith resided in its cultural similarities with Ibo societal patterns [8]. Drawing on the analogous practices displayed at the “love feast” that preceded Equiano’s willful conversion to Christianity, Stewart notes that the feasting rituals constitute yet another cultural similarity to African folkways. She establishes the same connection with the Methodist practice of purification and asceticism, which are cultural values also prevalent among the Ibo. Thus, while Equiano has been heavily criticized for marrying a white woman and being too much of an acculturated Englishman [9,10], his elected adoption of Methodism, which contrasts with his prior baptism while under bondage, can be interpreted as his adherence to Africanness instead.

In the same mindset, Equiano makes a connection between the Ibos and the Hebrews, arguing that both terms mean “wanderers” and that they have numerous cultural traits in common, as well as a historical connection. Elevating this commonality exposes Equiano’s disregard for skin color as a hierarchical marker. Alan J. Barnard explores this connection further: ‘Equiano long foreshadows anthropology’s current interest in “native voices”, but more importantly he signifies in eighteenth century discourse a practical encounter with the theoretical problem of cultural comparison’ (97). Barnard goes on to also compare West African “primitivism” to that of ancient Hebrews, Greeks, and Equiano’s contemporary Scottish Highlanders: peoples whose ethnic status was determined not by superficial skin color or phenotype but rather by their beliefs, values, and norms—also known as culture [11].

Another contribution to the romantic narration of African perfection resides in Equiano’s depiction of the role of women. The latter are not presented as oppressed or inferior to men. Indeed, their clothes are not very different from those of men, which indicates similar status. In addition, certain women have high-rank occupations. Not only do they weave cotton, but they also perform certain activities similar to those of their male counterparts, being “employed in tillage” together; they even go to war together. Again, the author depicts a similar egalitarian social structure as he mentions gender roles among the Natives of western Honduras (158).

Equiano’s description of Africa can thus be associated with what historians call romantic primitivism. This perspective “validates simplicity and gives respectability to nontechnical traditions. This historical perspective takes pride in precisely those traditions which European arrogance would seem to despise”. The narrator insists on the simplicity of his people: “our manners are simple”; “our wants are few”. The narrative presents these cultural traits as highly respectable. For example, when Equiano describes clothing, even though simple, it is aesthetically appealing: the color is “brighter and richer than any I have seen in Europe”. Nontechnical traditions are also given credit when the author mentions the manner in which magicians can successfully find the author of a poisoning without the elaborate scientific methodology that was developing in the West at the time. Mazrui explains that “romantic primitivism seeks solace in stateless societies, finds dignity in village life, and discerns full cultural validity in the traditions and beliefs of the people”. Such a statement also applies to Equiano’s account of the political structure, as he explains that “our subjection to the king of Benin was a little more than nominal; for every transaction of the government […] was conducted by the chiefs or elders” (10). Thus, the complexity of American and Western civilizations, which Equiano juxtaposes with African contentment and simplicity ideals, denotes a certain amount of corruption, where leaders at the government or plantation scales develop an increasing hunger for power over their subjects but are never satisfied. Another feature of romantic primitivism is closeness to nature. This is true of the perception the narrator has of his land (“nature is prodigal of his favors”). Closeness to nature also applies to religion. Mazrui claims that “indigenous religions have fused God, man, and nature”. Effectively, in the local religion, Ibos believed that the Creator lived in the sun and he had human activities such as smoking a pipe. The way years are calculated, according to Equiano, is another example of such closeness to nature (18).

African historian Théophile Obenga defines Afrocentrism as a view of African history recentered on the preoccupations of African researchers and intellectuals who wanted to revisit their patrimony [12]. The goal of Afrocentrism in the discipline of history is to give back to the black world a dignity scorned by the Occidental world. This implies a search for a glorious past. Equiano’s Afrocentric view is particularly expressed through the analogy he makes between his people and the Hebrews and the use of monogenic diffusion (the common origin). The two peoples have common rituals. They include circumcision, purification, washings, sacrifices, and offerings. They also have a similar tradition of naming children according to the circumstances of their births. Finally, they have a similar hierarchy: they are governed by chiefs, judges, and elders. They are patriarchal, and kinship is patrilineal, with fathers being the heads of the family. Besides being on the traditional level, analogy is done on the historical level as well. Both civilizations are pastoral, and the author draws on the etymological similarity between the terms Ibo (spelled “Eboe” in the narrative) and Hebrew, which both mean “wanderer” and sound alike. To strengthen his theory according to which Ibos are descendants of Hebrews, Equiano provides not only these traditional similarities but also evokes scripture chronology and the names of renowned intellectuals (“Dr. Gill” and “Dr. Clarke”). In the same framework, Afrocentrism also consists in making Africa an influential center of diffusion for other civilizations worldwide. Here, Equiano mentions the impact of the West African belief system as illustrated by the fact that Guinean magical traditions were transported as far as the West Indies. Similarly, one can note a certain reversal of the situation regarding the cannibal theme, as demonstrated by Equiano’s initial meeting with white traders on the African coast. He also addresses (though later on in the narrative) his white audience: “Let the polished and haughty European recollect that his ancestors were once like the Africans” (21).

Thus, through his geographic and anthropological exposé, the narrator defends the nobility of what was considered savage by the Western ideology. Glissant’s notion of poetics of relation (1990) provides a cultural and theoretical framework to examine such a construction of the African root identity. Glissant argues that one’s root identity originates in the thought of self along with that of territory [13]. By introducing his autobiography with the cultural geography of the Ibo territory, Equiano situates himself as an African first and foremost, and, therefore, although in full mastery of the English language and of political affairs, he distances himself from the canon of European literature of his time. Furthermore, Glissant states that root identity is somewhat set in motion as one encounters (and thinks) the Other and embarks on the voyage. The poetics of relation thus enable one to consider Equiano’s departure from Africa as an experience that awakens his sensitivity to his African root identity.

3. Anti-Ethnography 2: The Slave Narrative in the New World and Equiano’s Literary Strategy

Equiano’s enslavement is characterized by liminality, similar to any ethnographer’s description of a rite of passage. Indeed, the symbolic moment when the narrator was captured, placed on the boat, lifted, and patted constitutes a turning point in his social status and, subsequently, when a new identity arises: that of a slave, of a piece of property, as he is likened to an auctioned animal. Again, Glissant’s definition of relation identity, as detailed in La Poétique de la Relation, enables one to understand the extent to which this change of status impacted the narrator’s construction of identity. Relation identity derives from the consciousness that emerges from the acquaintance with the Other and, more importantly, with other cultures. In a manner that is somewhat reminiscent of WEB DuBois’ double consciousness, Glissant’s relation identity can only exist in a context of errantry where the treatment of others and by others dictates one’s status in a foreign society. In other words, the voyage and encounter with the new world trigger a shift of identity similar to what Glissant would later call creolization.

Nevertheless, slavery is not presented as an institution that effectively cuts Africans from their cultural past, as opposed to other testimonies of an ethnographic nature, such as Phyllis Wheatley. On the contrary, among a certain African slave population, slavery played a role in building an African consciousness and a certain sense of pan-African unity. In effect, slave markets and slave ships were loaded with Africans from various ethnic groups; when they met, they found a common point in their African origins. In the second chapter of Equiano’s narrative, the author expresses how, when he arrived in the West Indies, interacting and “conversing with Africans of all languages” helped him extend his knowledge about his own continent (35). This African consciousness is what drove him to look for fellow Africans when he arrived in the United States. His disappointment in not finding any, as well as his despair over not being able to communicate with the other (American or Americanized) enslaved workers on the plantation, led him to write the following: “we saw few or none of our native Africans, and not one soul who could talk to me […] I was now exceedingly miserable, and thought myself worse off than any of the rest of my companions, for they could talk to each other, but I had no person to talk to that I could understand. In this state I was constantly grieving and pining, and wishing for death” (37). This passage is significant in defining the ethnographer’s stance regarding his perception of life in the New World: it is that of a man who shares the experience of slavery in common with his fellow slaves, as other African American and Afro-Caribbean authors of slave narratives have written, but yet remains an outsider.

A literary technique shared by almost all slave narrative authors is the “master plan for slave narratives” defined by James Olney in his 1984 essay “I Was Born: Slave Narratives, Their Status as Autobiography and as Literature”. Olney claims sameness in all slave narratives in the sense that they all have a similar structure or pattern: they start with “I was born…”. They include, among other things, the cruelty of a master or overseer, the trauma of the first observed whipping, the description of a hypocritical Christian slaveholder (whom Equiano calls “nominal Christians” (36), the allowances given to the slaves, the account of their escape, and a final reflection on the institution of slavery [14]. Although Equiano’s narrative fits in this “master plan”, it is not devoid of creativity. In effect, his work echoes the original voice of a narrator who speaks with authority. It denotes intentional Afrocentrism and distance from the American and Caribbean way of life, which allow him to adopt a critical stance, somewhat reminiscent of Montesquieu’s Lettres Persanes.

When compared to West Africa, the Americas are viewed as anti-religious, chaotic, and deprived of all ethics. For example, while the institution of marriage was of the utmost seriousness among the Ibos, as presented in Chapter I, in the New World, there were no valid marriages among slaves. Likewise, the Ibos’ legendary intolerance of adultery contrasts heavily with the slave owners’ use of their female slaves for sexual exploitation and animalist breeding, as well as the forced separation of married couples (36). The negative representation of the New World is also illustrated by the fact that the United States as a nation is presented as somewhat politically irrelevant, as opposed to Europe or Africa: Equiano briefly mentions the American Revolution but with very little care. This event is presented as quite irrelevant to him, other than a manifestation of the Americans’ lack of structure and discipline.

On the other hand, one could argue that Equiano’s slave narrative functions as an anthropological ethnography of slavery through phenomenology that emphasizes Marxist theory. Effectively, alienation of labor is a critical feature of what the author calls the “wretchedness of slavery” (36). Although in the second chapter of his narrative, Equiano does not present his slave condition as a negative experience at first (“they all used me extremely well”), he seems to argue later on that the injustice resides in the fact that enslaved workers are not enjoying the fruit of their labor. After serving in Barbados, he is carried to Virginia, where a lieutenant in the British army buys him and gives him the responsibility to “fan the gentleman when he slept” (38). The ridiculous nature of his task is paired with the denial of his right to own any definite property or his right to feel safe from harm. The race-based system is construed in such a manner that, as Equiano goes on to explain, even when selling goods, a slave could be robbed by any white man and yet could not benefit from protection under the law.

Similarly, the alienation of bodies is illustrated by the normative rape of female slaves and the commonality of torture. Since phenomenology theory states that one’s identity is constructed through the experiences of the body, Equiano’s account functions as an applied anthropological lecture against slaveholders who shaped Black thought and proceeded to mental colonization through the corruption of their bodies. Merleau-Ponty wrote that the living body not only experiences but also takes in the world [15]. The world (environment, space) and humans intersect to form a relationship that comes into being through the lived, individual, and personal body. In the same context of emerging consciousness, in the slave society that Equiano documents, enslaved people are immersed in a milieu where their bodies are forced to labor to the benefit of Others. Likewise, Foucault claimed that “the control of society over individuals is not only conducted through consciousness or ideology, but also in the body and with the body” (translated from French: “Le contrôle de la société sur les individus ne s’effectue pas seulement par Ia conscience ou par l’idéologie mais aussi dans le corps et avec le corps”) [16]. The phenomenological interpretation that is forced upon the narrator is one of domination and power (subjectivity) over the owned slave. Equiano addresses slave owners (especially planters), and as he deconstructs the interaction between slaves and masters, he calls for a more humane treatment of slaves as he predicts different outcomes. The “good” masters promote hegemonic control of their slaves, where their gentleness and relative fairness in their treatment of their slaves result in their willful compliance. On the other hand, “cruel” masters encourage slaves to eventually rebel, fight for—and win—their freedom, or seek revenge. Equiano initially states that he does not wish for the immediate and brutal abolition of slavery, although later on in his text, he argues otherwise. Such predictions and cautionary scenarios are recurrent in the literature of slavery, notably in narratives such as Edgeworth’s “The Grateful Negro”.

Slavery is the ill that motivates Equiano’s overall negative depiction of the new world. His first point of critique of the institution is the fact that it is race-based. The ideology of racism is supposed to be based on the assumed opposition between two “races” and two peoples, yet the author provides counterexamples. The Spaniards are reported to have become two races, although they were the same people. Similarly, he claims that the combination of Portuguese and Sierra Leone Natives generated the creation of one race of “perfect Negroes” with beautiful complexion and hair texture (21). Mentioning these cases allows Equiano to discredit the basis of racism, which is made to appear senseless. Because this doctrine is based on false assumptions, it cannot justify slavery. The institution is also criticized for its immorality for the simple reason that it deprives people of their rights.

Equiano opposes New World slavery with the kind of slavery practiced among Africans. More specifically, he ethnographically deconstructs the institution as a norm in terms of folkways, laws, and mores. First, in Africa, enslavement is not the result of lawless kidnapping (which, according to Chapter I, is a serious crime in the Ibo community). Most people with the status of slaves are commonly prisoners of war. Moreover, they benefit from a treatment considerably more favorable than that of others in the West Indies and the Americas: “they do no more work than other members of the community” (172). The narrator’s ultimate argument against slavery as a sinful institution can be found in the first part of his ethnography. In effect, the prejudice according to which God “forbore to stamp understanding” in Africans “because carved in Ebony” would be “limiting His goodness” (21). Furthermore, Western slavery is sinful because, according to the Scriptures with which the author has become familiar, everyone is equal before God: He “hath made of one blood all nations of men who dwell on all the face of the earth” (22). Lastly, Equiano argues that establishing such a hierarchy among human beings should be God’s decision rather than men’s.

Although Glissant’s poetics of relation and relation identity help articulate the formation of the narrator’s change of status upon encountering his kidnappers, Equiano’s harsh views on slavery and his attempts to escape illustrate his rejection of his—creolized—status and his refusal to adhere to the position assigned to him by the Western society. Glissant’s other concept of the poetics of the diverse also serves as a theoretical context that frames the conditions of identity formation when one has established contact with other cultures. Since Glissant argues that creolization results from world cultures consciously and almost brutally encountering one another, one’s identity is only valid and acknowledged if all other potential identities are negated and denied (15). Here, while Equiano’s status in the Ibo territory is entirely ignored by his kidnappers and masters, he still manages to emancipate his consciousness from slavery as demonstrated by his ability to denounce its ills and to rekindle his consciousness as a child of Africa and a free Ibo. While the first ethnographic account (Africa) illustrates his refusal to embrace the trope of African savagery vehiculated in the racist and propagandist media of the time, his ethnographic account of slavery demonstrates his rejection of the forced identity of the slave, despite the harsh treatment of his body.

In a manner comparable to other slave American narratives such as those of Frederick Douglass, William Wells Brown, Harriet Jacobs, Josiah Henson, or Solomon Northup, Equiano’s account describes his encountering God as he travels North. Thus, despite his favorable description of the Ibo culture that he claims descends from the Hebrews, Equiano, similarly to other slave narrative authors such as Phyllis Wheatley, is thankful for his forced expatriation in the sense that it allowed him to know Christianity. Nevertheless, unlike Wheatley, he does not attribute Africa’s heathendom to its “dark” nature but rather to some form of underdevelopment, ignorance, and conformity to traditions. Indeed, he compares Ibos to “Israelites in their primitive state” and then states that “their religion appeared to have shed upon us a ray of its glory, though broken and spent in its passage, or eclipsed by the cloud which time, tradition, and ignorance might have enveloped it” (20–21). This statement implies two ideas. First, it means that the Ibos’ glory that he praised in the first chapter is not originally their own, but rather that the Ibos share a monogenic connection with other nations, including those of Europe from where most of his audience originated. Secondly, despite this “glory”, the people who remained in Africa, unlike him, are still pagan. He, however, is born again in London. In other words, England, not Africa, not the ship, not Jamaica, and not the United States, is the place where one can truly be a Christian. God is thus associated with England because this is where his abolitionist views emerged.

4. Final Reflections

African literature exists in two major forms: the traditional and the modern. Traditional sub-Saharan African literature is both oral and artistic (carvings, fabric dyeing). It is as old as the African people themselves. Usually, it consists of tales, myths, and legends to explain things that exist nowadays. Modern, Black-authored written literature was extremely scarce, if not nonexistent, in the 18th and 19th centuries, apart from the nations with a developed Muslim tradition that supported Arabic literacy. Thus, most of the literature of the era was oral; it was preserved through the knowledge of griots who served as ethnographers via oral histories. According to the Nigerian poet and academic Tanure Ojaide, modern African literature is the repository of the cultural life of the people and is a major source of education for the young everywhere, as well as many urban people who have lost touch with their roots. Consequently, African writers consider themselves to be the cultural standard-bearers of their people and use the medium of literature to assert and preserve “cultural independence” [17]. In this framework, writers such as Equiano can be considered modern griots, as they bear the history of their people in their written narratives. The distinction, however, dwells in their histories being preserved in written form rather than orally. The Life of Olaudah Equiano is, therefore, considered the first work of written African literature and the first African-authored written ethnography. The works of Ignatius Sancho and Ottobah Cugoano have been given similar attributes (Sandiford, 9). However, because it was written by an expatriate, some have questioned this label.

Equiano was certainly ahead of his time. According to anthropologist Marvin Harris, the rise of anthropological theory did not occur until the late 18th century. However, Equiano lucubrated his ethnography even before cultural anthropology as we know it was acknowledged as an actual science, with the academization of sociocultural inquiry. Even more so, his advocacy for African authenticity preceded the anthropological debate regarding slavery and racial determinism that would later be popularized by scholars such as Morton, Agassiz, or Gliddon.

Although most works of early African American and Afro-Caribbean literature deal with the issue of slavery, describing living conditions under this institution remains a complex task. Newly emancipated black authors wrote about this theme because, as participant ethnographers, they were in the best position to narrate slavery with expertise. Having personally experienced it as enslaved individuals, they were able to share their empirically collected data with their audiences. They analyzed this institution in their writings with creativity and a certain amount of individuality and uniqueness, even though they were restrained by their editors to a large extent. Equiano adopts a series of roles throughout his narrative: prince, shipboy, slave, overseer, and slave trader. This multiplicity of stances provides him with a peculiar voice as it heightens his authority as a knowledgeable ethnographer. Given his historical background, the relevance of this autobiography resides not in its ability to denounce the ills of the Western institutions (slavery and slave trade) but rather in the evidence of human universal agency. Indeed, when assuming the position of a black African author capable of articulating his thoughts, critiquing Western institutions, and rationally describing the nobility of West African mores, Olaudah Equiano not only challenges the foundations of white hegemony and what Pieterse calls “civilizational narcissism” but also offers an irreversible paradigm shift toward “cultural decolonization” [18].

Religion remains the focal point of Equiano’s narrative. He intentionally and didactically crafted his rhetoric in this manner, because Christianity was his main abolitionist argument throughout his political career. I have argued that while his conversion to Methodism may appear to result from acculturation and abandonment of his African heritage, an anthropological analysis of Equiano’s autobiography points to the very opposite. His Christianity resided in his adherence to his cultural origins. His Christian, abolitionist doctrine was rooted in his Ibo background. His advocacy for liberation was the consequence of his very Africanness.