Good for you. I re-watched the History channels 'Unwrap Christmas' again this year - it's actually a school's programme, but it always reminds me that 'Christmas' as we celebrate it today, is a pretty recent phenomenon. I much prefer the collective noun 'holidays' where everyone gets their bit. One of the joys of living in secular USA.
McEwen Whitterer on Autism
http://whitterer-autism.blogspot.com
e-mail; m.mcewen-asker@att.net

One of the Kwanzaa celebrations I've experienced provided a treasured memory for me. My family attended a community celebration and they had an amazing African drummer perform. One of my nephews who a small boy at the time was transfixed by the drummer and spontaneously started dancing even though no one else was. After the performance the drummer even let my nephew play the drum.

The sight of community and family gathered together witnessing my nephew's joyous movement and inherent connection to his roots, heritage and soul will always be one of the reasons why I appreciate the Kwanzaa holiday.

Also, allow me to offer a link to Friend of Blogher - allaboutgeorge (George Kelly) - and his daily reflection on the 7 principles at his Vox blog with a groovy Kwanzaa theme... http://allaboutgeorge.vox.com/

You have to understand that I'm a nearly 50-year-old black woman, so Kwanzaa began in 1966, during my childhood. We remember it now as the height of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, but the battle was as much in our minds as it was on the streets. Kwanzaa, or something like it, had to be created to help us find a way to counter the racism and self-hatred we had internalized from the dominant culture.

I distinctly remember being eight years old and crying as my stepmother, a politically conscious woman who had insisted that we go to the March on Washington two years before, told me that I was black -- not a Negro any more. Then she started talking about both of us wearing our hair in an "African bush" and I was outdone. All I knew of Africa and Africans was from Tarzan movies. But through her reading and the evening school classes she and my father were taking, she was meeting real Africans, and she was learning to question the ways in which we had been taught to denigrate our skin tones, hair, lips and hips.

One Saturday when I was about 10, my parents let me go to a party at the home of a young couple in the neighborhood that sometimes watched me when my parents had to work. There were a number of families and children there, and everyone was wearing African-style clothing. There was music and food. It was the first time I heard Nina Simone's "Four Women." The song hypnotized me. It was the first time I had heard a piece of music that talked about the lives of real black people. I knew the history she sang -- these women were the women in every black family I knew. I did not understand much of what went on there, but in retrospect, I think it was my first Kwanzaa celebration. That was the day I became black and proud -- even though James Brown's song didn't come out until about a year later.

Fast forward about 25 years. By this time, access to higher education has made it possible for me to move out of the hood and into a professional job and a suburban lifestyle. Our school district at the time had a small percentage of black children, so we parents had an African American parents' support group. And the annual pre-Kwanza celebration, held just before the kids' Christmas break, was one of our major programs. The year our family helped to put on the program was special for me.

Seven families were asked to present something brief about one of the Nguzo Sabo. Based on what I remember us doing, our principle must have been Kujichagulia -- Self-determination.

My arthritis had put me in a wheelchair and a walker by that time, although Iea still driving a car without hand controls. I remember being in front of the audience in my chair with my elementary-school-aged daughter at my side, and my infant son in my lap. My daughter talked about the principle, and I told a story to illustrate it that came from our family history.

It seems that the father of one of my older cousins needed to be hospitalized, but he could not pay for his care, and the hospital was not going to admit him. My cousin promised the hospital that she would work for free to pay the bill. They took the offer, and for a long time after that, she worked as an unpaid cleaning woman for the hospital, in addition to her full-time paid job.

I know that there is a lot of controversy surrounding Kwanzaa because of its founder's checkered history. The man who created Kwanzaa, Ron Karenga, is an ex-felon, the founder of a Black Power-era organization that had several violent clashes with the Black Panthers in the 1960s, and as a leading proponent of Afrocentrcity.

But I doubt that you can find many Kwanzaa celebrants who even care about Karenga or afrocentrism. I know that I certainly don't If they are like me, what they care about is the fact that we still live in a culture that teaches black children to hate themselves. In that battle, I'll take any weapon I can get. Harambee!

Professor Kim
BlogHer Contributing Editor
Law and Journalism/Media

Thanks so much for responding, folks. The image of a child dancing with spontaneous and captivating joy, or Kim at age 10 walking around a party in wonderment as she grounded herself in the beauty of her tradition are both moving images. I wish all children in the world could find those kind of moments. Please, others of you who have Kwanzaa stories to tell - they are welcomed here.

~~ Contributing Editor, Mata H. also blogs relentlessly at Time's Fool