The Black Fire Will Not Be Extinguished: A Papuan Cry for Dignity

The Black Fire Will Not Be Extinguished: A Papuan Cry for Dignity

In an interview, Barack Obama once declared that the election of the first Black president of the United States did not mean the end of racism. He was right. It is naïve to believe that five centuries of oppression, dehumanization, and anti-Blackness could be erased overnight. The truth is plain: we still live in a world shaped by racism, whether subtle or brutal. Art, cinema, and popular culture continue to recycle narratives that demonize Blackness. And the world, conveniently, chooses to look away.

I realized this with painful clarity during a trip to Europe. While visiting majestic old churches—marvels of human creativity—I was struck by something sinister. In much of Western Christian iconography, the color black is systematically associated with evil. Satan, for instance, is often portrayed as a dark-skinned, grotesque, half-human figure. This is not accidental. It reveals how racism has seeped into the very spiritual and aesthetic foundations of the so-called "civilized" world.

This kind of symbolic violence reinforces a deeper reality: the marginalization of Black and Indigenous peoples is not only political or economic—it is also cultural, psychological, and spiritual. Racism is not a mistake; it is a system, and it is deeply embedded in the collective unconscious.

To uproot it, we need a radical stance. And that resistance must begin with Black people themselves. It must begin with pride—not in a false superiority, but in the truth of our humanity. We must reclaim what has been demonized: our color, our culture, our voices.

As a Melanesian from Papua, I call on the young generation of Papuans to stand tall. Be proud of your roots. You who hold degrees and diplomas—do not be ashamed to return to the 'Honai', the traditional hut of our ancestors. There, wisdom lives. There, dignity is preserved. Our 'koteka', so often mocked by outsiders, is not a sign of savagery—it is a mark of Papuan manhood and cultural integrity.

To those who still cling to ignorance, I say this: Perhaps it is beneath your sense of "civilization" to live side by side with us Papuans. But remember, it may be we—those you call primitive—who hold a deeper civility, born not from domination, but from love. We do not conquer. We survive. We do not erase others. We remember. And we resist.

Our fire—Black, Papuan, proud—will not be extinguished. Not now. Not ever.