Commentary
"NIggas love everything but themselves
- The Last Poets; Niggas AreScared Of revolution, 1970
From a poster to the Marcus Garvey Board:
A great and terrible myth exist among African families in America. The myth or idea that we are all mixed with either European or NativeAmerican blood. I am here to say that even without academic proof that this is mathematically, genetically and absolutely impossible to make such ridiculous assumptions. Do the numbers, even if youmake them up your math can't be THAT bad. If 15% of white America (actually 11%) owned or held 10 million African people in positions of forced servitude, can you honestly say that every master ofen slaved Africans raped every single woman he possessed? Even if he did were they all impregnated. Then you would have to believe that the remaining women untouched by Europeans amalgamated and intermarried with the Natives of this land. No one is that naive or infused with that much self hate; I don't believe it.
This is a process we have endured for a long time now; to hate or deny our obvious origins. I hate to burst your bubble, but there are several light-skinned, curly haired pure African people. It is very painful and disheartening to sit in a room of predominatelyAfrican people and hear about every damn group of people they're mixed with besides what's obvious. People often tell me that i'm of mixed heritage. That it is impossible for me to be pure African. My usual reply is, "prove it". Speculation and assumptions have little to do with truth and everything you fictionalize. "I have Irish in me I was told", yes I can see the Irish beneath your bronze skin, those broad features and that kinky hair. You do favor SeanConnery a tad.
This is all a deception and a contributing factor to a disease called self hate. "Niggas wanna be everything but themselves" TheLast Poets spoke so eloquently. I don't consider my self nor you a nigga but I understand the point that was made. We want to be connected with fantasy's, high hopes and fables of our grandparents instead of what we see in the mirror which may contribute to the problem at hand. there are even so called conscious people who claim everything but their Africaness. The irony to it all is, the White man tells you to "go back to Africa", not Europe or Central America. He never says go back to your Native American group. If he can see the African in you, then why can't you?
Does it really hurt that much to love and accept yourself for who you are? Is it that we admire the physical features and cultures of other people and don't know or care for our own? Or is it that you just wanna be what we can plainly see...an African?
Uhuru
1 comment:
My mother was a mix of a Black Creole Indian mother and a white/native american father. I don't know what that makes her, but I know that a Black Afrikan father made me and that I am a Black Afrikan child.
I suffered growing up as a child because of her's and her family's racial mix. My Black African's dark skin made me a target of verbal abuse and physical abuse at the hands of my peers and grown-ups in the neighborhood.
My peers and my neighbors could not believe that I came out of my mother, since my parents separated when I was eight years old they never saw my Black Afrikan father. I was often told by my peers that my mother had stole me from a Black family. My self-esteem and self-
confidence were shattered by this abuse, even when I turned sixteen and began lightening up and taking on more of my mother's feature. Even though I was told that I had developed into a good-
looking young lady and was pursued by boys and men, I could not see myself as attractive or good-looking, but my self-confidence developed when I found out that I was pretty smart when I was in high school, winning several awards, graduating with honors, winning scholarships. I also dis- covered that I had a pretty good voice and musical talent.
During the Black Power Movement in the seventies, I developed pride in my Black Afrikaness, but not in myself as a woman.
All through my life academics and success were the only assets that I felt I possessed. I could not see myself as an attractive woman. I saw myself as a woman who was pursued, but that no Black African male wanted to keep.
My psyche was damaged. I gained proof of my unwantedness during my adult years when, in my mind, I began attracting abusive men. I stayed strong, though, because I had high grade point averages in every college that I attended and continued to receive awards and success at those colleges and on my jobs.
I was admired for my voice and my musical talent.
I did not realize how much
of my self-esteem depended on academic achievement, awards, respect and success on my job, until the nineties and the two thousands when I changed states and jobs. I had to accept a pay decrease because I could not get state certified. I had to accept a low position. I was never able to achieve any kind of success or respect, no matter how dependable, responsible, and/or hard-working I was. I was judged by my job position by my Black Afrikan and white upper job level. I went from a highly respected para- professional to non person.
When I was not able to achieve success and respect, I collapsed as a person. I lost interest in my physical appearance and allowed myself to gain weight.
Even though I was sought out for my voice and talent, I did not see that as being successful. I looked at my voice and musical talent as God- given.
I and other Black Afrikans have suffered and been damaged from having racially mixed mothers, fathers, and family.
Since I have been retired, I have been getting to know myself. I am learning to love me and focus on the positive things about myself thanks to people like Monique and Indi Amerie (I hope I'm spelling her name right.) through her songs "Brown Skin" and "I am not my hair." Women like Jill Scott. I admire these strong Black Afrikan women.
And through the love and support of my wonderful husband (my exposo).
Muchas Gracias (My husband is Black Cuba.) for letting me express myself about this subject.
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