Without Black women, the miracles of Black history would not be possible. So much of who I am, I owe to the women who came before m
Without Black women, the miracles of
Black history would not be possible.
So much of who I am, I owe to the women who came before me.
Women who endured
- erasure
- racism
- sexism
- misogyny
- violence and abuse
- colorism
- losing loved ones because of hate and violence
And yet, they poured into me and others. As an adult, I met the midwife who brought me into this world. Without diminishing my father’s role, women tag-teamed to bring me through childbirth and have been tagteaming to hold me down ever since.
My mother worked multiple jobs -at once- and endured sexism and racism to provide for us. When I was in elementary school, she came to my class and read to us, accompanied us on school trips, and sewed my school clothes.
My Granny taught me, encouraged me, listened to me, helped me heal, and sewed my stage clothes. Her love was tough, hurt your brand-new sensitive feelings, and was always there.
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Women’s Work
My Granny was the community seamstress sewing some of the Marching Band’s uniforms, wedding gowns, and prom dresses with matching accessories for the males; for pennies on the dollar.
I spent many weekends with my father’s mother. As long as I quietly sat through her Westerns I could watch music videos. On the other hand, she did not have to watch “her television in her house” quietly and she did not. I got all the commentary.😄
Aunts and cousins who spent hours braiding my hair, shopping for dresses, sitting through my spontaneous cheers and performances in the front yard, then applauding like it was the best performance they had attended, and purchasing costly extras so that I could participate in extracurricular activities.
The women in our communities are truly like the Chaka Khan and Whitney Houston song “I’m Every Woman“.
The church organist.
The most requested cook.
The most requested when you were sick or in emotional pain.
The engine AND worker bee behind nearly every charitable drive or fundraiser in the community.
The person there for you when a man leaves.
The person there for your children no matter what anybody else decides not to do.
The person there to help you find your mind when you lose it.
When you need a lawyer. An advocate. A nurse. A doctor. A healing word.
Strength to endure a storm. Strength to resist. Food to eat.
She is there. Night and day. She is there.
“Often duplicated but never replicated”
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Sometimes people can pull off a knockoff version but can never hold the value of the original.
In my family and many others, the person you call when in dire need is a woman.
Men and boys are beautiful. Blessings to humankind.
And….when I celebrate awareness months, I celebrate the often erased contributions of women.
No man can define who they are or become them.
Against all the odds, they defined themselves far beyond the world’s limited view, vision, and imagination. They grew and bloomed anyway.
Without them, my story is not possible.
Without their love. Without their food for nourishment and food for thought.
Without their patience. Without their putting me first. Without their encouragement to put myself first. (Advice I did not take right away. )
Without Black women, the miracles of Black history would not be possible.
Women and girls are not interchangeable with males.
We are not an idea. We are incredible and miraculous divinely created human beings.
When I claim that. When I know that for myself, I honor them.
AMAZING!
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