“Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.” -Phillis Wheatley
You’re made of the stars, and so reach higher than fools.
Know Your Worth
“No one can figure out your worth but you.” -Pearl Bailey
I learned Pearl Bailey’s wisdom the hard way. Once I learned it, I never forgot it. Set your value.
Know your worth because there’s a world out there that’ll like to tell Black + Brown women they are worthless.
What takes your breath away?
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
Maya Angelou
What leaves you in awe? What makes you whole? Follow that. Follow it for the rest of your waking life.
Lift Your Head
“I sit and sew–a useless task it seems, my hands grown tired, my head weighed down with dreams.”
Alice Dunbar-Nelson
Is your heart sick with unmet dreams? Persevere. Don’t give up. Your desire is just around the corner.
My Encounter with Alex Haley
This past weekend, I went to a Coast Guard (CG) gathering for the celebration of the CG’s birthday. My husband was in the Navy for five years, and so he gets invites to these events.
Anyways, when I was on this boat, one of the Captains gave a speech. He said the birthday of the CG was 228 years ago. I did some mental math and figured out the date, August 4, 1790. Four years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence (the one TJ drafted).
Then I got annoyed. Did ships like the one I stood on carry human cargo? My husband confirmed that they would have likely carried human cargo too because the CG transfers cargo. (Have to fact check that one.) There were some young, Black members of the CG there. It was mostly White people and their families. So I was feeling all types of ways.
Seeing everyone happy and taking pictures just made me feel sick. I couldn’t get the thought of human bodies being in the bottom of ships like this one out of my mind. So I eventually left and sat on the bench at the pier until my husband was finished.
Later, my husband met up with me and said: “I know why you were feeling that way. When I went on the tour, I saw this picture of Alex Haley in the Captain’s room. He worked on this ship as a mess boy and wrote short stories in his spare time. Perhaps while working on this ship, he had similar thoughts as you, which led him to eventually write ‘Roots’.”
God works in mysterious ways, huh? Maybe I had to come here to make a spiritual touch point, similar to my trip to Monticello.
Black Women Resist
“Black women resisted White supremacist culture by making homes where all Black people could be subjects, not objects.” -bell hooks.
I hope to create a space where BIPOC are centered in their stories. Our existence is resistance.
#ownvoices #WeNeedDiverseBooks #BlackGirlMagic
Pouring Libations at Monticello
Today I went to Monticello. The night before I went to an Underground Railroad exhibit in another town. I have a lot to process.
At the Underground Railroad exhibit, there were few attendees. We couldn’t take pictures. They showed an actual iron ball and chain that weighed 24 pounds, the spiked, iron headgear, and the leather, locked collars used on captured people who tried to run away from slavery.
I drew pictures of what I saw and recorded the information listed since I couldn’t take pictures.
At Monticello, we could take pictures of the ground sites, but we couldn’t take pictures inside Jefferson’s mansion. I also recorded what I saw inside his mansion.
I went to the Sally Hemings’ room and a reconstructed dwelling of an enslaved blacksmith. And I spent most of my time at the places where enslaved people labored: the horse stable, smokehouse, dairy, kitchen, “garden”, etc.
I also saw the ridiculous weekly food rations that an adult, enslaved person received: one peck of cornmeal, four salted fish, and a 1/2 pound of pork. They said “theft” was common at Monticello (and I see why!!). Adults also only received an annual yardage of cloth to make 2 outfits each year.
I bypassed Thomas Jefferson’s ornate gravesite, and I chose to spend more time at the unmarked burial plot where some enslaved people are buried. I prayed for their souls and poured libations to the enslaved ancestors. I felt heavy hearted as I thought about what their lives were like on earth.
I saw two different portrayals of the life of enslaved people at two different places. After seeing both, I am more committed to centering and celebrating their voices. Voices that have been historically erased and silenced.
I feel a heavy charge to do this after my visits. It’s so important.
My Voice
They say I don’t got a voice. They say don’t nobody want to hear what I have to say.
(Sorry, I’ll use my English. Ahem.) They say say I don’t have a voice. They say no one wants to hear what I have to say. They’re wrong.
Somebody out there feel like I feel, see what I see, think what I think.
Somebody out there crying cause ain’t nobody listening to them.
Somebody out there is talking in silence, is speaking to the voices in they head ‘cuz the voices outside they head tryna drown ’em.
So I’ma speak out. Hopefully, that somebody out there will hear me speaking and get speaking hope for they-selves.
Hopefully, that somebody out there will see me shouting and get a shout about them too. The kind of shout you get in church on Sunday when the preaching real good.
I hope.
