I never really
thought about it, I considered myself just a person of color born in America, but as
the years went by and I became older and wiser and I began to research my
heritage I found that there is a true story of a magnificent people that has
never been told, ironically it was left out of the history books.
Today I look in
the mirror and I see a caramel colored female with slightly slanted eyes a perfectly rounded nose and full luscious
lips and I see an undeniable ethnic nationality looking back at me.
If
I close my eyes and listen real close I can almost hear the beat of the drums,
the dance of the Mandinka Warriors or of the chants of the Ashanti
Retrieved from http://africanoverlandtours.com/overland-africa-blog/travel-articles/in-africa-we-dance-like-nobody-is-watching
the masters of mummification, the
original surgeons, they could cut a body
open and close it back up and not a mark would be left to show the incision.
Now that’s intelligence.
The Africans came
from this lineage, and even though thousands of my ancestors were taken from
their homeland because of jealousy and greediness, and put into small holes
aboard ships not fit to hold cargo, somehow they survived, although they were
beaten and starved as they made that voyage across the Atlantic, my people
strong-willed and full of pride endured
the hardships.
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Free men and women
were taken from their country to be slaves to another, for 400 years they were
considered to be property of another, although God made them free . For 400 years they were enslaved, beaten, made
to work from sunup to sundown, they were told they were nothing, treated even
worse.
But somehow they
survived, they prayed to a God that they could not see, could not touch, but
they prayed anyway and they would sing
and dance the tears away.
There oppressors often wondered, what is it
about these people that keeps them going, they would often peek around the
corner at the shacks (if they could be called that)on the plantations far away
from the big house, but close enough to monitor. Their shacks were no more than a few sticks
put together, they did not have the luxury of a concrete floor, or a wooden one
for that matter.
In the summer it
was scorching. In the winter it was freezing. They would sit around the fire at
night and tell stories of their homeland, they would laugh and dance and pray,
yes they would pray, for you see it was their belief in God that kept
them going, they knew somehow, someway they would overcome. Their oppressors
may have taken their freedom ,they may have even taken their children and loved
ones but the one thing they could not take was their spirit, their will to
survive.
My ancestors
endured slavery, hatred, segregation, bigotry, murder by the hundreds, rape by
the thousands, separation of love ones, absconded from their kids by force,
never to be seen again. We were a nation of bastards, we were not born in America but bought to America
Thankfully by the
grace of God, we have overcome and we are yet overcoming. Once a people that were forbidden to read or
write, once thought of as ignobles with no intelligence or capabilities of
learning, we are now inventors, judges, lawyers, doctors, teachers, preachers,
authors and the list goes on and on. We
are a people proud of our heritage, proud of who we are.
African American
is not who I am but what I am, It is my heritage, my culture, my nationality,
it does not matter to me whether I am called Negro, Black, Colored or African
American, because my Nationality or the color of my skin does not define me, I
am defined by my values, standards and beliefs.
I am a beautifully
made creature, brought into existence by God himself, the possibilities are
limitless. I am free to be whatever or whoever I choose to be. So why am I
proud to be an African American, I'm proud because I was chosen by God to
continue the legacy of a Rich and Beautiful Nation.
