By Ephraim Agbo
Let’s set the scene.
This week at the White House, U.S. President Donald Trump met with five African leaders—from Gabon, Guinea-Bissau, Mauritania, Senegal, and Liberia. The meeting was framed around regional security and economic cooperation. All seemed routine—until it wasn’t.
When Liberian President Joseph Boakai politely thanked Trump for the opportunity to collaborate on peace and security in West Africa, Trump cut in with what he probably thought was a compliment:
“Such good English. It’s beautiful. Where did you learn to speak so well? Where were you educated?”
President Boakai, calm as ever, replied:
“In Liberia.”
Trump’s surprised reply?
“That’s very interesting. It’s beautiful English. I have people at this table who can’t speak nearly as well.”
What was meant to be flattery quickly became a moment of unfiltered ignorance. Because here’s the thing—Liberia’s official language is English. It has been for over 100 years. And that’s not just a footnote—it’s central to Liberia’s entire existence.
Let’s Back Up: A Quick History Lesson
Liberia isn’t just an African country that speaks English. It is the African country with the deepest U.S. historical roots.
- Founded in 1822 by freed African Americans and supported by the American Colonization Society, Liberia became independent in 1847.
- Its capital city, Monrovia, is named after U.S. President James Monroe.
- Its flag, constitution, and legal system are all modeled after the United States.
- Over 85% of Liberians speak English, which remains the language of government, law, and education.
So yes, Mr. Trump, the Liberian president speaks English—and not by coincidence.
A Compliment? Or a Microaggression?
Let’s be honest—this wasn’t the first time a Western leader “praised” an African for speaking English well. But it keeps happening, and it keeps revealing the same thing: a deeply rooted assumption that Africa is “less than” by default.
On the surface, it might seem like a harmless comment. But underneath? It reflects a larger issue of perception—that African competence is somehow surprising, that African leaders are still seen through a colonial lens.
One Liberian journalist in Monrovia, Jalingo, said it best:
“What should worry us in Africa is Trump’s sheer ignorance of Liberia’s history. If a U.S. president doesn’t know that Liberia was founded by freed American slaves and speaks English, what else doesn’t he know? And how seriously can such leaders take our region?”
The Deeper Problem: Always Proving Ourselves
The comment sparked a wave of reactions—not just because of the words, but because of what they represent.
Martin, a policy student in Kenya, wrote:
“That comment touches a nerve. African students applying to universities in the UK or U.S. are often asked to take English tests—even when they come from English-speaking countries like Ghana, Nigeria, or Liberia. Why?”
It’s a valid question. Over 25 African countries have English as an official or primary language. And yet, African students, professionals, and diplomats are often asked to “prove” their English again and again.
It’s not just inconvenient. It’s insulting.
And Then There’s the Power Dynamic
Mohammed Sabbagh, a governance analyst from Sierra Leone, took the discussion further:
“Trump doesn’t engage African leaders unless he wants something. What’s sad is that many African leaders still walk into these rooms thinking they’re being offered friendship, when it’s almost always a business deal—with the power tipped one way.”
He’s not wrong. Africa holds 30% of the world’s critical minerals, 60% of the world’s arable land, and a youth population set to double by 2050. Yet, in many global diplomatic settings, Africa is still seen more as a “project” than a partner.
The Real Damage of “Low Expectations”
Let’s zoom out.
A Western leader is “impressed” when an African leader speaks English well. Why is that a problem?
Because it normalizes low expectations. It perpetuates the idea that Africa is always catching up. Always trying to measure up. Always the student, never the expert.
And when you live in a world that expects less from you, you spend too much time proving your right to be in the room—instead of being free to lead, innovate, and negotiate from a place of equality.
What Respect Should Actually Look Like
Imagine this:
Instead of surprise, Trump had said:
“President Boakai, Liberia’s deep connection to the U.S. is historic and meaningful. I look forward to building on that legacy together.”
Respectful. Acknowledging shared history. Diplomatic.
Instead, we got a moment that exposed how shallow global understanding of Africa still is—even at the highest levels.
Final Word: Africa Knows Who She Is
Let’s be clear: Africa doesn’t need validation. It needs respect.
The continent is full of multilingual nations, world-class thinkers, and leaders who navigate complex geopolitics daily. We don’t need a pat on the head for “speaking well.” We need honest partnerships, historical awareness, and conversations that don’t begin with surprise that we’re articulate.
To quote one Liberian student:
“When we speak good English, we’re not trying to impress you. We’re speaking our national language. Maybe it’s time the world caught up.”
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