“AMAZING GRACE HOW SWEET THE SOUND”

That moves from the mouth to the ear

Of slaves singing slavery songs:

“Follow the Drinking Gourd” and “Wade in the Water”

Words that I

know

very

little

about

I am a product of the emancipation proclamation

Born from slaves

Who were born from slaves

Who were born from slaves

Who were born from slaves

Who were born from

Free Man

From a land,

The Motherland,

A place I

know

very

little

about

But I’m learning

You better believe

I’m learning

As a six year old

I sat in front of a mirror

And ran, across my face,

A used up Brillow Pad

My mother had thrown in the trash

I was trying to scratch the

Black

Away

I thought maybe if I scratched

Deep enough

And

Hard enough

That maybe,

Just maybe,

I would look like

All the other little kids in my neighbor-

Hood

As my momma

Rubbed the

Hydrogen Peroxide into my wounds

I didn’t cry

I smiled

As I noticed the

white

bubbles coming

Up to the surface of my skin

For a moment

I got my wish

The next morning the bubbles

Were gone

My smile turned to tears

As my Pappa

Swatted my

Black butt

For digging in the trash

But the tears

Were not because of

Pappa’s calloused hand.

I realized my black

Was forever

In the sixth grade

I grappled with guilt

As the man on

The tiny television at the front

Of the room spoke of a dream.

The documentary was for “Multicultural Week.”

One week out of the year we learned

About African American’s additions to

Society.

Only one week to hear:

“I have a dream... I have a dream that one day little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.  I have a dream today.”

Only one week to learn:

Harriet Tubman,

The Moses of her people,

My people,

Risked her life,

Her life,

To help 300 Maryland slaves

Escape to freedom

Only one week to understand:

Rosa Parks was tired and weary from a long day of work

On December 1, 1955, and

Refused

To give up her seat to a

White man

Resulting

in a

FIRE

That swept the nation.

Only one week to generate snapshots

Watered down

Sound bites

In the minds of all my classmates

How could Elementary schools even

Think

That this would be enough?

This was not enough

Information

To transpire

Not enough

Information

To inspire

All it did was make me feel

Guilty and

Relieved

Relieved that I didn’t have to live through

It

and

Guilty because

I knew I wasn’t supposed to be happy

To get a day off

Of school for

Martin Luther King Day

But I was

In high school

My history teacher

Was a bigot.

He would say

The most ignorant

Vile

Words about people

Of all colors

And creeds

That were different

Than his.

After his poor attempt

At a joke he would always

Do a snort

Followed by a long

Exhale

In an attempt to allow

His students to laugh,

Which most of them did,

Because they were afraid if

They didn’t he would fail them;

And he would.

I laughed along with everyone

Else, even when he said:

“The worst thing to happen to

The United States

Was the Civil Rights Movement”

Shame and anger

Flooded my brain

But I couldn’t say anything in

Retort

Mostly because I didn’t know

What to say.

I just didn’t know.

My wish was to some day learn

Enough

About my history!

Instead

I had to swallow my

Shame and anger

And laugh

along with everyone else

One day

There I was

In the library

Minding my own business

When

Bam

My finger ran across

It

The outside cover was bound in a thick

Black

Leather

That smelt of knowledge.

It

Was the written word.

Langston Hughes was scrolled across the spine

Slowly I turned the page to read:

“I am a Negro
Black as the night is black
Black like the depths of my Africa.”