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This summer on July 23 and 24, CNN is airing a 6 hour documentary on what it's like to be Black in America . In the promo they point out that the program "isn't just about Black people, it's about Black Americans". As I put these dates on my Outlook calendar, I got to thinking about what it's been like for me being Black in America.
To be candid, it hasn't been a "walk in the park". But as I think back on my 57 years as a Black woman in this country, I wouldn't have it any other way. I've experienced a richness of life that comes from my family history, my own past and the present where I'm proudly watching a Black man run for president. It's not just because he's Black, though, which is hard to explain to someone who's not.
So I thought if I shared some of my experiences of being Black in America -- 50 to be exact -- it might give you some insight into why I am completely overwhelmed by the political scene and the ways "we the people" are starting to unite for change. Keep in mind this disclaimer -- what you read is what I experienced and felt. I don't explain or apologize for the way that growing up, coming of age and aging in America has given me memories of --
Being a little girl and not knowing about racism and what was coming until I started to grow out of the protective bubble my parents tried to place around us.- Being old enough to remember being called "colored", "Negro", "Afro-American", "Black" and "African American". My preference -- I'm Black. I'm also an American -- no prefix.
- Watching the "Amos and Andy" show in the 50s and wondering where were the other Black people on TV.
- Going with my family to a peace march in Detroit in 1963 where a young minister, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. gave a speech about his "dream"--the speech he later gave to millions on the Mall in Washington, D.C.
- Hearing about Dr. King's assassination and crying.
- Calling my parents and telling them I was skipping high school classes to march for equality -- and they agreed.
- Meeting Rosa Parks and being impressed by her quiet grace.
- Listening to my grandmother talk about seeing Black men hanging from trees as she hunted rabbits and squirrel as a young girl in rural Georgia.
- Remembering that my grandmother's acceptance of these lynchings as the "norm".
- Hearing my mother talk about how as a child, she had to visit her White relatives at night -- in Cleveland.
- Listening to my mother and aunt talk about the racial issues and tension within their own bi-racial family.
- Not meeting my White relatives until I was an adult--except my great-grandmother who died when I was a toddler.
- Learning about my slave great great grandmother Charity Ann and wishing I could have met this ancestor who was so courageous and strong.
- Listening to my grandmother tell me the story of a Georgia cotton planter bought Charity Ann for his son and how she and the son, my great great grandfather had 17 children together and a lifelong relationship. They couldn't marry, of course -- it was against the law in Georgia.
- Meeting Alex Haley who told me to write the story of Charity Ann. One day I will.
- Integrating my junior high school and only being accepted by 5 people--the 3 other Black kids who started 9th grade with me, the principal and one really nice classmate who either didn't read or pay attention to the memo on not talking to the "Negro" girl.
- Getting called the "N" word for the first time -- in Michigan and being hurt and shocked.
- Getting called the "N" word many times when I went to college in Tennessee and just being pissed.
- Being called "light, bright and damn near White" by other Blacks.
- Feeling not Black enough in some situations and not "light" enough in others.
- Having to explain to my son that having light skin didn't make him White, it just made him a light skin Black person and that Black people come in all shades from the very light to very dark. I told him that being Black is about who you are as a person, not just about how you look.
- Telling my son that it was never OK for anyone to call him the "N" word -- and then backing him up when his 6th grade principal called to say my son was suspended for getting in a fight. The reason as she put it -- "name calling". She couldn't even say the word but suspended my son for reacting to it.
- Feeling like I wanted to get in a fight myself with the principal and the parents of the kid who called my
