I'm standing on my soapbox and preaching to the choir...
Although Juneteeth, (June 19th, a day set aside to annually celebrate the emanication of slaves) has been observed since the mid-1860s, it still hasn't caught on across the country. To be honest I hadn't heard a thing about any observances or celebrations here in the Detroit area. I admit that I didn't know much about when, where or even why it is celebrated until I took the time to read an article posted by Black Voices yesterday.
Although Juneteeth, (June 19th, a day set aside to annually celebrate the emanication of slaves) has been observed since the mid-1860s, it still hasn't caught on across the country. To be honest I hadn't heard a thing about any observances or celebrations here in the Detroit area. I admit that I didn't know much about when, where or even why it is celebrated until I took the time to read an article posted by Black Voices yesterday.
While I'm not looking for another national holiday to celebrate, I do think it is essential for those of us who are of African descent to research our roots and thank God for our mere existence. I'm so in awe of families who know the details about relatives from several prior generations.
All of us should be deeply proud of the simple fact that we're here, in this very day and hour. Think about it, there had to have been thousands of Africans who were stolen from their homes and forced onto slave ships all those years ago.
The captives were stripped, chained in groups of five, and packed tightly into the slave hold (a deck below the main deck and above the cargo hold) so that one person's head, when lying in rows, was forced upon another person's thigh. In the ship's dark cargo hold, each slave had 3 feet 3 inches (1 m) of headroom during the ten-week voyage. The captives were sometimes brought up on deck and fed rice. Those who tried to starve themselves, as often happened, were whipped and forced to eat. While they were at sea, water supplies ran low, and disease spread through the closely packed, unventilated slave deck. At times when supplies ran low, the crew would chain 30-40 slaves and attach a heavy weight at the end, then throw it over board forcing the chained people into the water to drown. Nearly a third of the slaves died during the long voyage from disease, malnutrition, and beatings. Their American bloodline was never to be.
Some might ask, "What has that got to do with me?" My response is that it has EVERYTHING to do with you - and me. Had we not come from a strong, resilient bloodline so many generations ago, we simply would not even EXIST today. If it had not been for those who by the grace of God had the spiritual, physical and mental fortitude to refuse to die, we wouldn't be here to witness the historic political phenomenon that we're currently experiencing.
Now before someone calls me on it, I realize that Senator Barak Obama's American roots hail from the Caucasian side of his family; however my point is that our African and African-American predecessors paved the way so that all American citizens would have the same rights. Including the right to vote - let alone run for president!
I can only imagine how filled with pride our predecessors would be to see that the suffering they endured all those years ago was for such a time as this! If only those who withstood the dogs, rape, water hoses, beatings, lynchings and other unimaginable atrocities, so that we might partake of basic human rights, could see that their sacrifices were not in vain.
If we would all - young and old, revisit the past and study the experiences of our previous generations, perhaps we would not take so much for granted.
Perhaps parents would respect one another - and our children. Our sons would take their rightful place as holy princes, treat women with honor and respect; and our daughters would realize that they hail from spiritual royalty and esteem their bodies accordingly. None of us would allow ourselves to be contaminated by violence, filth, and degradation.
Education would be sought after - as opposed to lusting temporary fixes for designer clothing, jewelry and cars we can't afford. Perhaps we would return to the pride of home, business and community ownership as opposed to perpetual indebtedness for something we will never own.
Other cultures traditionally teach their young about their ancestors and how they got to be where they are. There is a misconception that our history has not been preserved. Our history lessons were whispered inside the darkened rooms of secret meeting places. Coded messages were transmitted from house to field and back again through songs and signals.
Our history was carved into trees, hidden under floor boards and scrawled onto parchment. It's true that much of our history is buried, but nevertheless it is documented. It's there for us to unearth like precious buried treasure.
Museums, libraries, websites and even keepsake family bibles are brimming with historical names, dates and facts. Some are even fortunate enough to have living, breathing testimonies among us. Now is the time to really listen to their "how I got over" stories. It is our legacy.
We have to be diligent in mining our roots, then passing our bounty on to the generations to come - lest we forget.
Black pride is not something you can take out of storage to put on display once a year like Christmas decorations.
Black pride is not catch phrase, it is a state of being - 365 days a year.
