Black? African American? American? History!


My ancestors may have come from across the sea. But I was born here so was my mother and her mother and her mother. However my great, great, great-grandmother may have come by way of the belly of ships. The records didn’t say the last time I was on My father’s family came to America from Spain by way of Ellis Island in the 1920’s. They were not Moors.

Before I came along, lets go back to my fourth great ancestors. The ones that was kidnapped and smuggled across the world. That traveled in the bowels of slave ships. The ones beaten and frighten the ones also known as the good niggers. They worked from sun up to sun down making the rich white folks who flaunt their old money. The ones who forgot to give my great grand’s their forty acres and a mule.

On the first Juneteenth, back to 1865, June 19th the Union soldiers, led by Major General Gordon Granger, landed at Galveston, Texas with news that the war had ended and that the enslaved were now free. It wasn’t until then that the union forces were finally strong enough to influence and overcome the resistance.

Why don’t Black folks celebrate this date in history when we all were declared free on paper? Is it because we know weren’t free and still aren’t. That our people had to endure segregation you know that separate but equal philosophy. While Dunbar, Langston, Billie and the Harlem USA renaissance was on the rise. The south was still struggling for their equal rights. The southern children had to stop going to school usually by the 6th grade if they even had a chance to go to school. Most of the black families were still sharecroppers.

A Jamaican man by the name of J. A Rogers  came to the states  in 1906 and became a naturalized citizen in 1917. He grew up around blacks that were scholars, doctors and intelligent people.  Mr. Rogers didn’t fall for the white superiority doctrine. He study hard and became a self-educated man who wrote several books to educate the ‘colored’ Americans.  His first book From Superman to Man is a written conversation  he had with a white man. J.A. Rogers was a conductor aka a “George” and he tell this passenger about the different things he learned about the black race.

Later Marcus Garvey, Father Divine, Noble Drew Ali, Elijah Muhammad. Or their teacher W. D. Fard  the teacher that taught and disappeared. Who caused an uprising among black people who learned pride. W. D. Fard is said to have come from the East he taught and disappeared. J. Edgar Hoover boys said W. D. Fard was this fellow named Wallace Dodd Fard a white con artist.

Black people were becoming ‘Uppity.’ We started standing up for ourselves, learning that we are humans. Black men, woman and children were incarcerated for crimes that were made up daily.  “Slavery by Another Name”   These prisoners were rented to provide labor to the plantation owners who were losing money since slavery was abolished and the share holders were leaving and going north. Blacks that white people couldn’t keep incarcerated were lynched. When I was growing up I heard stories about black people being tarred and feathered. Cross burnings. I remember seeing a cross burning as a child in South Jersey.  As a grown woman a cross burning in up state NY there was a cross burning in a black family that moved up from the city. This was in the 1979.

But our people fought the cause and continued to fight for equality. For equal education, equal employment. We were relentless and fought hard.

I never met my grandparents on my father’s side. Why? Because they were not happy my father married a black woman and had children of a darker hue. I was born in 1960. I remember hearing King speak on TV and people holding hands and singing, “We Shall Overcome.” I remember Malcolm on the news being called a Black Muslim. I remember seeing Free Bobby and Free Huey spray painted on the walls all over in my community. I remember seen the Black Panthers patrolling our streets strong and beautiful. I remember the brothers and sisters in dashiki and the naturals.  I remember James Brown telling  us “Say it Loud I’m Black and I’m Proud”.

I was a proud young black girl. I even had an afro with my “good Hair” that I hated. A skin complexion I hated too, because the darker girls hated me, called me stuck up. This was another tool to keep us down at that time in history. Made us believe we are all different.

I also remember seeing the brothers and sisters using heroin on the corners doing the ‘dope fiend lean’. I saw them throwing up on the street, dying on the street and dead on the street. Dope fiends arguing, fighting and walking back and forth to the boulevard to cope more.

That was in the 70’s and the boys were coming back from Vietnam and they were junkies. They brought plenty of dope back with them. So instead of walking the streets in  Dashiki they wore army fatigues. Brothers missing limbs, missing the person they were before they went to war. They came back and were called baby killers and losers. They were still niggers even after fighting shoulder to shoulder with white boys.

By the 80’s those that didn’t die from over doses and the effects of Agent Orange were now homeowners and college grades from the GI bill. We were starting to grow as a people and instead of being black and proud we were called African-American. To remind us we ain’t really Americans. Today we accept that nasty term. So now we have those ex dope fiends who are now “methadonianes” (people strung out on methadone). You see something had to be done to save the white folks that got strung out on dope too.

Then AIDS came on the scene a transmitted disease that is passed on by body fluids. The aids virus was killing homosexuals and intravenous drug users in greater proportions. The US government had to do something quickly. AIDS was spreading  quickly and  too many European Americans were being killed. At the same time a cheaper form of cocaine was introduced crack. I’m sure many of the kids of the 80’s and 90’s remember this. A cheap high, that actually called the ‘crack head’s to it. A drug, so dangerous people would do anything to get it.

Today  we have the crack head kids on the streets with guns and new designer drugs meth, ice, bath salt and whatever else they mix up in their mother’s kitchens. We have rappers rapping about gang banging and movies showing how easy it is to kill another human being.  Talking a bout mayhem, self-destruction and  going to hell in a hand bag.  HELLLLLLLO! Wake the fuck up America. It ain’t about being black or white all of us are dying. Guns, drugs, war, diseases and  global warming.

Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m paranoid or maybe I’ve read too many conspiracy theories. But I do believe there is a plot to do away with the black people of America. I don’t think it’s as prevalent at it was in 1960.  I do know that if I’m right and there is/was a conspiracy it’s not working.  I believe there are really spiritual people of all nationalities that believe that we are all connected in this universe. I’m sure others believe as I believe if one race was to fall the whole human race will fall. I believe that good always wins.

I’m sure Morgan Freedman knows the struggles of our people. He is an actor who probably could only get jobs as a servant, convicts or as extra’s in the early years of his career. Don’t misconstrue me. I love Black History Month. Our youth learn so much with the commercials, essays and the internet sharing the pearls of wisdom. But as I read from The Obamacrat’s blog  Dr. Carter G. Woodson, who wrote, “The Mis-Education of the Negro”  one of his most well-known writings, created Black History Week with the hope that it will eventually be eliminated when Black History became fundamental to American History.”

Freedman believes that time is here. This would be true if Black Americans were written into the history books and black history was taught on continuous biases throughout the school year. We have enough black scholars. We have enough information about the dark periods in American History to rewrite the history books.

February should continue to be Black History month where we recognize the struggles. But to become truly be One Nation under God. The complete American History should be taught during the whole school years. Hell I think the kids are still studying out of the books I had when I was a kid.

Racism isn’t going anywhere as long as we call ourselves African-Americans instead of Americans. If southern whites want to re-write the ugliness from the history books it only shows they are embarrassed by their heartless, ignorant past. I do not agree with erasing the black holocaust from history. Hopefully in our grand children’s time the need for Black History month will be unnecessary. Our parents didn’t expect to see a black president in their lifetime. Hell I didn’t believe it would be in mine. Americans, one and all have to be willing to change in order to make change. That’s how we move forward.

I don’t agree with renaming Black History month African-American Month. Not at all! As I stated above I don’t agree with being called African. Not that I don’t recognized my descendants coming from Africa. After all, don’t we all come from Africa?

In closing I suggest that we celebrate as a whole country Juneteenth. Secondly I suggest that we have Martin Luther King Day sales.  Not just because I like to get a bargain but because we have sales for all other holidays including Halloween and Valentine’s Day. My third suggestion lets rewrite the history books. Not a separate but equal history book all of our history.  Lets all put down the guns and embrace the world with world with Love, Peace and happiness.


23 thoughts on “Black? African American? American? History!

  1. I was brought up, in good old England, by two people who had traveled the world and they, my parents, taught me that there was only one type of people and that was human beings. I’ve never seen anything in people other than what they are as people. As my personal hero ‘MLK’ suggested ‘I judge people by the content of their character’. On the wall of the office I’m sitting in is a poster with MLK’s ‘dream speech’ on it and alongside it a facsimile of the New York Times from the day MLK was murdered. I showed my children him speaking on Youtube and they wondered why I had a tear running down my face. I told them he was a beautiful and wonderful man and that MLK is my hero, because he didn’t just speak for oppressed Americans, really, but for all oppressed people, everywhere, in every time gone and every time to come. There is only one race; the human race and that’s all of us, together. Thanks for the blog it was fascinating to see these things through your eyes and as always I come away enlightened by your words.

    1. Thanks Richard. I am happy that you got something from this piece. I’ve met many people from England over the years and they have always expressed that there isn’t any racism in your country. My cousin is married to a white Englishmen. I don’t know when Americans will wake up.

  2. Wow, Kim, this was so well written with great information and as far as I’m concerned, we all have a heart that needs love; who cares what color our skin is…it’s also too bad this is still an issue after all these years! Hugs to you!

  3. There is no better than adversity. Every defeat, every heartbreak, every loss, contains its own seed, its own lesson on how to improve your performance the next time.
    ~Malcolm X

    I have returned, and I will be posting my new blog today stay tune.

  4. Well missy, you stay “Uppity,” I like uppity women, no matter their color. This essay should be read by every school child, it should reach the masses.

    In or around 1964 I was at my Aunty’s house, at the east end of Cleveland, Ohio.
    She lived in the “city” while I was raised in a small farming town 30 miles away.
    One day, I was riding my cousins tricycle down the side walk when I turned a corner, stopping when a tall pair of legs blocked my way.

    The face staring down at me was smiling, but it was BLACK! I had never seen such a thing. I was so frightened I knocked over the bike and ran all the way back to my Aunt’s house.
    When I finally told my mom what had scared me, she said, “Honey, that was just a Negro. People come in different colors”

    When I asked he why I didn’t see people of different colors by our house, she didn’t have an answer, all she could muster was, “that’s just the way things are.”

    I never liked that answer, and I never will. I left my town after I invited a group of friends I met to visit me at the diner where I worked. These were friends from another part time job. Five of them showed up, and three of them left. Hearing sirens and seeing flashing lights I ran to the corn field next to the diner to find that some of the local rednecks took my two black friends into the field and beat them senseless. This was in 1982.

    I don’t find you paranoid, I find you a woman with her eyes open. Many white Americans seem to feel superior. They rally against immigration, bully hard working Mexicans, they call Arab business owners towel-heads and see black males as criminals or drug addicts. I don’t get it.

    My ancestry consists of an Irish horse thief, a Yugoslavian prostitute, a native american woman who married a french man,and a black great-great, (or maybe it was 3 greats), grandmother who died in childbirth. Yet, I am accepted because I am fair. This country is the sum of people like my ancestors and no single race has the right to claim it as “theirs!”

    Ok, getting off my soap-box. Keep writing, Do you mind if I repost this?

    1. Thank you for sharing your story. Boy do you have and interesting group of ancestors. It is our differences that make us one. There is good and bad in every race. We fear the unknown. Prejudices are learner behavior. My mother and grandmother tried to sheild us the ugliness growing up. But your parents can’t sheild you forever. Please I am honored that you want to reblog. Thank you.

  5. OH my what shall I do? I had no idea you were black!! Ha like I care as I have said many many times we all have the same anatomy, we all bleed red and we all have a brain there is only one race as far as I am concerned it is the “human race” I am proud we are members together!! Love you Lady don’t ever ever change and always stand strong for you are woman hear you ROOAAARRR! God Bless (((xx)))

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