Since it's Black History Month and all, I thought I'd do some of my own historical stuff. Since I'm a Black guy and all.
This is the first thing I ever posted on the Internet, although not it's original form. I was the moderator of something similar to a Usenet group on issues of concern to Black folks when I wrote it. It was something of an experiment; I'd estimated some 90 or better percent of online discussions formed around some disagreement. I wanted to see if I could write something that was both positive and objectively undeniable…I wanted to see what kind of discussion would develop if we started from an agreement.
Originally the first two paragraphs/stanzas were one:
By "men" I meant "human." I found that everyone liked it, but some women felt they were left out by "men" and some men agreed, and felt Black men needed positive strokes to the degree that it should be exclusively about Black me.
Me, I was convinced to hone it so that it undeniably speaks to everyone I intended it to.
We are women. We have the strengths of women; we have the weaknesses of women. We have the needs and desires of women -- a foundation of tradition for our roots, the space provided by freedom to grow according to our nature and the light of knowledge to reach the heights we are capable of.
We are the children of Africa, the last tribe. We know no tribe but ourselves. We respond to the rhythms of the heart of Africa, its pulse is in our stride, our speech, our music. We have the power of our ancestors, but the ways of power known to them are no longer known to us. We are a wandering tribe. We search for ways of power, we search for the way home -- a home we've never seen but will recognize at once.
Older than this country, our tribe allowed the world to be what it is today. Builders of nations, we were shaped in turn by the nation. Seeking nothing save that which is ours by right of our efforts and those of our ancestors, we want no more than others. . . yet want it more, for we were denied for so long.
The memory of a people is longer than the memory of any man. And tradition vies with history as a shaping force. Some still feel they are not entitled to the best; some still serve another (angrily or happily); some still feel the lash.
But some speak wisdom against all odds. Some warm the heart of the world with the beauty inherent in our soul. Some are builders. Some are teachers. And some have given their lives so that we could have ours.
Remember. We survived the Middle Passage.
Remember. We grew against all odds.
Remember. The pain of slavery.
Remember. The sacrifice for freedom.
Remember. The possibilities of unity.
And go forward. There is nothing beyond our reach.
Posted by P6 at February 9, 2004 08:41 PM
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