Black hiS T O R Y

It’s finally here! It is February 1st and it’s also my favorite month for two reasons. Reason two, Valentines Day marks five months to the day until my birthday🎉, and reason one: IT’S BLACK HISTORY MONTH! ✊🏿🇺🇸

With everything that is going on in the news and media; social media; outlets, I want to shed a postive light on some local black heros here in our own back yard. First starting with me 😊. Now, this is not to offend any one. There will be some things I will say as apart of my research that will probably make you uncomfortable. Well, welcome to America. 🇺🇸

In research, history tells us that in 1619 slavery in America began when the first African slaves were forcibly broguht to the North American colony of Jamestown, Virgina. Reasons being to help crop tobacco and other lucrative crops to sell. [History.com] Now, let’s speed ahead to the late 1900s. The year 1997 and a young Angel Mar’Vette was spending the summer with her close family friend and went to vacation bible school with them. She, (let’s call her Barbie), was a grade ahead of me, so we were separated to our own respective grade classes. ‘Barbie’ and I are the same age just to add an fyi, but the way Cape Public Schools and my birthday being in July, I was in the older crowd of my graduating 2008 class. A N Y W A Y S, I was having a great time learning about Jesus and eating snacks and keeping to myself until it came time to make these puppets out of paper sacks. This kid; let’s call him ‘Peter’; comes over to my table and says to me, “Yeah, you’re paper bag needs to be darker. Because you know, you’re so BLACK!” I stared at him and just laughed because my dear, you are not telling me anything different that I don’t know. Did I mention I was not the only black chold in this class, just a new black child ‘Peter’ did not know. Class moves on, I continue to make my puppet and ‘Peter’ continues to taunt me about my skin color. I let it roll off my back until it came to story time. The teacher whips out the book James and The Giant Peach and I am already up front waiting to listen. ‘Peter’ taps my shoulder and says, “Um excuse me, all the black people have to sit in the back!” I. HAD. HAD. IT!  Not knowing how to process this new emotion of anger, I just cried. “Why are you being so mean to me? I’ve said nothing to you all day and you’ve done nothing but call me names! Why?” ‘Peter’ uttered the first of many many times I would hear this response, “Because you are black.” The teacher stopped story time and just had us color until our parents came to pick us up. Of course, Miss Cynthia was thrilled to pick her child up that has been crying. (I say oh so sarcastically). I tell her my side of the story, she makes me point him out, then has a stern whisper confrontation in front of ‘Peters’parents, then we go home. 

At home, we sit down and I try to process all of my feelings about what has happened. She tells me about how there are people in this world who are not going to like me based on my skin color. She tells me a story about how when she was in the second grade, that’s when schools around the Charleston, MO area began to desegregate and she cried. I looked at her with a tear stained face and laughed. “Momma, why did you cry? Have you never seen a white person before?” Miss Cynthia smiles with her tear stained face and assures me, “It’s not that I haven’t seen a white person before, it was just a time when blacks and whites were seperated and now all of a sudden we were together. It was an adjustment for all of us, and we literally spent the first couple of days just crying.” 

That incident with ‘Peter’ was my first taste of racism. From that day forward it made me question everyone around me. Do they genuinely like me for me or are they going to judge me solely based on the color of my skin? 

20 something odd years later and racism and prejudices still run the world. The only difference between myself then and now, is that now I don’t let it affect me as much. People opposite of your culture will never understand what you go through unless they sit down and have a conversation with you. So many times the older generation talks down on me and tells me how I should feel and act when it comes to hot button issues. They are almost condescending and there’s not much I can do to react because I do not want to perpetuate the “black female” sterotype. I smile and nod and ultimately walk away. I can write books soley on the times I’ve been picked on and over looked based on just being black, but that’s not my purpose in life. My purpose is to educate and inspire any and everyone I come in contact with. I want to be a light and have others see Jesus through the way He works in me. Also buy tons of makeup and clothes. Ha ha. Ladies and gents, we live in a beautiful and trying time. We live in an ultra sensitive society and we still have a voice that needs to be heard. I am proud of all of my brothers and sisters who are standing up for a need of change. To be organized and come together; that is truly something beautiful. I am not a perfect person, I am far from it. I just strive to be more like Jesus each day. Hopefully I can inspire my younger brothers and sisters that no matter your cultural ethnicity or societal upbringings, YOU CAN BE SOMEBODY! You ARE more than a conqueror, you ARE kings and queens of this world, YOU have a voice that will change this world for generations to come! This month, get to know your neighbors and celebrate your black history. If you want to know more about me, hit me up on the snap! I love to chat! Ciao, XOXO💋💋💋

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