(Originally posted 2/13/08) Black History Month. Wow! Just think, black people allowed Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Paine and those other "founding fathers" to spend all that time in Philadelphia writing the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution and still maintaining their livelihoods and growing rich. In contrast, we (black people) took care of their families, worked their land, built their homes and constituted the economic engine of the United States of America. How generous of them to give us a whole month to celebrate our history!It's Black History Month. It hadn't occurred to me until last week when quite by chance, I happened upon Henry Louis Gates doing what he does best--discovering and exposing the remarkable history, anthropology--pain and triumph of Black Americans. Thanks, Henry. I cried.
It did this week as it did last week, and as it always has, it took me aback--when I saw our true selves uncovered. Finally, this one month a year when the spotlight shines--at least on public television, on us.
What I saw on the faces of those Black people who I and most of us, regardless of race or culture, are accustomed to seeing only on the silver screen on television, hearing on the radio or learning about in the context of academia or cheering in the arena of sport--the surprise, the tears the abject, crushing pain--crumpled faces--at learning what their ancestors had endured. But, perhaps what may have been even more moving, more powerful was their learning about who their ancestors actually were--a name, a place, a written record of their having been bought, sold, or captured from a specific place in Africa.
With modern genetic technology, learning about their African roots is almost unbelievable. It's not been possible before. Imagine that. Most of us have no idea from where--what part of Africa--our Black forefathers and mothers originated. Now we can know. If not with absolute certainty, we can understand from whence we come with some level of comfort.
I know my white ancestors on my mother's side were German. Volprechts, i.e., Fullbrights, as in Senator Fullbright of Arkansas. They owned us. However, as far as the Black side goes, I have no earthly idea. That's sad. That's what white people don't understand. The inability to know who you are--to honestly know--undermines your very humanity and sense of self. That's what it means to get up wearing black every day in America.
In this culture, the very concept of black represents what is harmful, dangerous and sad. That's how I have felt for most of my life. More later.
Peace.
