My People Were Ashamed

They taught me embarrassment for my own people
They taught me and my lighter friends,
to snicker and roll my eyes at their broken English
They convinced me the hair on my head was a badge of higher humanity

They made me hate the tribal dances and wide splayed feet
They didn't teach me the Kings and Dynasties we built before time
They didn't tell me the language my elders spoke wasn't theirs,
but a comical copy of a continent of people robbed of their own

They didn't make me realize I, was only a crude copy of their cruder culture
bent on domination, greed and genocide, and that my hair wasn't recognized
by them for anything more than hair.
They didn't tell me the hair of my brothers and sisters was the hair of a great,
strong, diverse people.

It took decades to wake up and see, they, were my enemy
and my people held the key to real pride
It took decades to find out I was truly the gem of the earth
They didn't want me to find out that I, was the mother of all mankind.

OLE BLACK WOMEN

The wide mouthed laughter, head thrown back and gold teeth flashing, a hand raised and half thrown in no direction saying, “Go on, Girl” with the proper inflection, ‘cause it went together ..……..friends.

Standing heavy hipped at the stove in summer, humming some spiritual she fancied, sweat-towel thrown across her shoulder, crusty feet sluffed into broke backed shoes …… they always hurt anyway.

White starched dresses packed with matronly weightiness side by side on the front row, puncuating the sermon of the shoutin’, sweatin’ Preacher (hankershief in hand) with “ Amens” Mothers of the church that held your faith, culture ………your heritage.

Wide fancy hats poised carefully on greased, pressed hair, heads rockin’, knit dresses clinging a bit too closey to ripe curves, oiled and worn-worked hands pumping fans in rythm............Sunday morning.

Bulging bosoms you were hugged against with strong fat arms so they could tell you they’d known you since snotty noses and diapers, discipline from anybody, ‘cause you belonged to everybody…….caring village.

Hands that never left you where you’d fallen and faith in Lord Jesus enough to cleave the very earth ..…..strength.

Disappearing Vaseline faces of the past, replaced with modern lady like laughter, smooth lotioned hands, swinging hair, chosen labels, luxury cars, bland and sterile, the fading warmth, half remembered memories of ole Black women,.................................. God bless 'em.

Betty Ann Left

I said goodbye to another of my friends this afternoon. It was cool and damp outside and when I saw her, so was my mood but I tried to think of silly things so as not to give my sad heart a moment to raise its ugly head. It was quite an effort she made to come into my home and chat for a few minutes when even a few tire her so.

Anybody that knows Betty knew she had been going to the hairdresser since she was 6 months old. Heaven forbid Helen Stafford's child had kinky hair and kinky it was but since she's been taking chemo, it didn't fall out like everybody else's did, it got straighter than mine! We had a good laugh on that one. She didn't get good news from her Doctor when the tests came back but I told her, she was going with Helen back to Atlanta and they had better facilities there. She agreed and we passed comfortably over that speed bump.

My lounger that used to seem unable to hold her, almost swallowed her now and just emphasized the act of her long bony hand trying to life a longer bonier leg with ankles and calves no larger than mine, and she sunk into the chair exhausted. Ive had my ups and downs and points of utter frustration with her, no doubt she had with me, but today she was my friend and I loved her, and I knew it was the last time I would see her standing in front of me, then Helen helped her down the steps into the car and away they went so she could rest.

They will leave Wednesday for Atlanta, so send your prayers to Georgia with mine.