What makes some people feel they are — or should be — immune to violence? America was built on violence and we who are ‘Black’ still await an end to the daily racist violence perpetrated against us by Whites. We also await our 40 acres and a mule….
We live in a violent society. Every single day, Black people in America are subjected to direct and indirect racism. Racism is violence.
Black complaints are generally dismissed by Whites-in-power and White-thinking and White-acting folk. Commissions and bodies charged with investigating racial and equity complaints are often little more than an extension of the wrongdoing. And, because of the absence of ‘true’ redress — the lack of a just resolution, the Black victim is dismissed while ‘the band plays on’. The guilty party rejoices and revels in glee; and sometimes becomes even more emboldened as a result of NOT being held accountable for racial and equity wrongs.
BlackParentSpeaks does not know the interactions that happened between employees and former employees of WDBJ TV station in Virginia. However, the workplace ‘racial’ division is evidenced by the ‘Black’ alleged shooter’s official workplace complaint(s). Furthermore, the now-dead ‘Black’ alleged shooter reported that he was subjected to “racist” comments, etc. Reports that the former WDBJ employee ‘Black’ Flanagan/Williams complaint was dismissed by the EEOC means absolutely nothing to BlackParentSpeaks.
Contrary to what is often reported in and by the traditional media, shootings are seldom — if ever, senseless. Be aware. There are times when what goes around, comes around. Hold yourself and others accountable. Do not enable any form of racism. It is NOT okay to bear false witness and coverup for racist acts. Silence is NOT okay for it only serves to further embolden such ugliness. Be informed. Do not enable Whites at the expense of Blacks.
I hope that White people who read this really listen and hear my words. Still waters run deep and Black pain needs to be acknowledged by everyone. White employers should reevaluate their policies relative to racism and equity. And, they need to look at their stats. Are complaints, in fact, truly resolved? Are Black employees listened to and heard? Are there ‘real’ consequences for racial discrimination? Are there ‘real’ consequences for racist language? Black employees do have the ‘right’ to a racist-free work environment!
The c.1967 journey to Black ‘natural’ hair freedom came by way of defiance and happenstance for BlackParentSpeaks. I was working as Secretary to Attorney Julian Dugas in DC – the nation’s capital – at the time. My employer was the Neighborhood Legal Services Project/Program (NLSP).
The morning BlackParentSpeaks went from ‘pressed’ hair to ‘Natural and Black’ hair is quite revealing. As was normal, I had gotten up for work and washed my hair with the intent of pressing same before leaving for work. Suddenly, there was an unexpected knock at my apartment door.
Quickly, I walked to the door and opened it to let in my sister who had recently moved to DC by way of California. We embraced and began sharing memories as I agreed to introduce her to ‘particular’ Blacks in the DC area.
Caught up in the excitement of my sister’s visit, time flew. After an hour or so of ‘talk’, my sister reminded me of my UNpressed hair and my job. She said words to the effect of ‘Oh, I had better leave now so that you will have time to press your hair before going to work…. There is no way that you can let ‘White’ folk see your nappy hair.’
Without missing a beat, I dismissively replied to my sister that she need not rush as I had no intention of pressing my hair. I told my sister that I was going to wear my hair ‘natural’ to work.
My sister became increasingly livid as she first urged and finally DEMANDED that I either press my hair or get a permanent! She expressed that one of the worse things I could do was to go to work with ‘nappy’ hair…. My sister spoke of my upbringing and told me that it would reflect on our family name if I were to show my ‘nappy’ hair to others.
Stunned by my sister’s assertions and words, I reacted telling her that I was NOT ashame of my ‘natural’ hair and that I would wear my hair however I chose to wear my hair.
My sister angrily made the decision to leave my apartment after acknowledging that she obviously could not change my mind.
Following my sister’s exit from my place, I hastily grabbed a blue strip of material and beautifully wrapped my natural hair before heading off to work. In my opinion, my ‘look’ was both refreshing and stunning and I had no reason to expect anything less than accolades.
The Director of NLSP was ‘Black’ attorney Julian Dugas. I was Mr. Dugas’ Personal Secretary – offered the job by him following his ‘questionable’ handling of my racial discrimination case against the Agency for International Development (AID). My work desk was directly outside Attorney Dugas’ office as information.
Roughly 30 minutes to an hour into the work day, Attorney Dugas rather loudly confronted me about my head wear. Simply put, Mr. Dugas shouted “What the hell is that on your head!???”
I responded that I was wearing a head wrap.
Mr. Dugas angrily ordered me to take my head wrap off as he went back into his office and slammed the door.
In accordance with Attorney Dugas’ orders, I UNwrapped my ‘natural’ hair and continued to do the business of the day.
Shortly after my removal of my head wrap, Attorney Dugas stood before my desk and demanded that I not report to work again with ‘natural’ hair or a head wrap. I responded in a firm and equally ‘loud’ voice the following:
“Mr. Dugas, you have two choices. Either you will see a head wrap every day that I work here or you will see my ‘natural’ hair. You decide….”
Mr. Dugas’ response – ‘Well, I’d rather see your ‘nappy’ hair than a head wrap.’
The negative outbursts and reactions BlackParentSpeaks received from fellow Blacks in response to my ‘natural’ hair helped me in my overstanding resolve. We — who are Black — must be defining in our purpose to both break and remove the shackles of mental enslavement.
‘Don’t forget our reparations’.
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‘Black’ C. Sumner Stone Jr. (Chuck) said that ‘sometimes it takes White folk to politicize Black folk’. ‘Black’ Queen Mother Moore reminded us Blacks to ‘never forget our reparations’. BlackParentSpeaks urges us who are Black to ‘be informed, be aware, and be involved’. The Christian Bible admonishes some of us to ‘shake the dust from our boots and keep getting up’. There is wisdom in first feeding milk to a baby….
Blacks who are borne of Black mothers are Black. Blacks who are borne as a result of biological Black fathers are Black. No matter how many times or ways White folk attempt to narrow the defining of Black folk, we are Black. And, each of us should relish our Blackness and the responsibility and obligation that come with being Black. Undying love for Black people!
Contrary to ‘official and legal recordings’, my daddy was born in 1904 on Indian Territory on land later known as Chandler, Oklahoma. My father’s mother was 100% ‘Creek’ Native. My father’s father was Black. My father and all of his siblings knew they were Black – even my father’s ‘Native American’ biological mother knew that she had birth Black children! My father never shied from his Blackness; and, he fought long and hard against White racism.
As a Black child, my daddy regularly saw fellow Black peers herded together by adult Whites and left bloodied. As a Black child, my daddy watched in fear as adult Whites entertained themselves during weekend drag races at the expense of Black children who were bound to the back of racing cars. Daddy was protected ONLY because his mother had the foresight to hide him by covering him over with potatoes in the potato bin….
While a student in the White man’s elementary school, my daddy was forced to stand before the entire student body at a school assembly and apologize for having been born Black. My father was told that he had no choice in the matter lest his mother be made to suffer further at the hands of the town’s good White folk. During gym time at the elementary school and while playing a game of baseball, my daddy was purposely hit over the head with a baseball bat swung by a White classmate. Although my father was knocked out, not even a reprimand was given to the White child who loudly boasted that he – the White child — should get a medal for trying to kill his Black classmate – my father. On a daily basis, my Black father was pelted with rocks thrown by fellow White classmates and their White parents. This daily atrocity continued until my father’s uncle took a shotgun to the mob of Whites. Tellingly, my daddy never again set eyes on his uncle … ‘nuff said’.
Daddy saw his own Black ‘minister’ father terrorized and tortured and eventually blinded by a White doctor….
My daddy — a strong Black child — grew up to become a strong Black man who employed ‘undying love for Black people’ in all he did…. Daddy grew up to OVERstand the impact of slavery on the Black man, Black woman, and Black child. And, my daddy knew that Black people should never trust White people – plain and simple.
Like so many Blacks did at the time, Daddy travelled west to Oregon during the 1940s – lured by promises of a ‘better life’ and a less ‘hate-driven’ White community. And, contrary to official and legal recordings, I – Daddy’s daughter — was born in Vanport (name reflective of PORTland, Oregon and VANcouver, Washington). Whites, believing they have impunity, have falsely recorded history and events at will. I am a Black survivor of the 1948 Vanport flood.
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Some of the ‘interjected’ truths I share here include the following: Whites have pleasured themselves at the expense of Black people while claiming to love all of God’s children. (Do Whites ‘not’ see Black folk as God’s children?) White people have feasted off of Black suffering while creating and promoting visions of ‘strange fruit’. White people have a legacy of unbridled ugliness and worse. Whites are guilty of the unimaginable and they have reared up their White children in like fashion.
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Shortly before Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. went to Tennessee on the second trip that ended with his death, Dr. King came to DC to meet with a small and intimate body of us Black folk. As expected, I recorded that meeting, etc.
Although I will not go into detail, one of the things that troubled Dr. King was ‘whether or not, in fact, White people had a conscience’…. Dr. King expressed that if he outlived Tennessee, he would have to give serious thought to the question because his – Dr. King’s — whole nonviolent stance was based and predicated upon White people having a conscience….
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While I was a young child, my mother was approached and she agreed to allow our family home to be used for the training of ‘selected’ Black females in the Portland, Oregon area. The ‘trainers’ were Black women who knew the ways, dress, styles, etc. of White women as a result of working in the homes of White folk. The training provided was to make us young Black females ‘White like’ in our ways, tastes, and more.
The Black women who provided the training sessions were ‘pillars’ of Portland’s Black community. The young Black females who had been ‘selected’ for such trainings were carefully hand-selected by the trainers. These identified young Black females were expected to grow in refinement, etc. so as to enhance the uplifting of Blacks specifically in the Portland area. I, the youngest of all, was expected to be included in the sessions only because the sessions were to take place in our family’s relatively large and spacious home located in the Irvington district of northeast Portland.
The day of the first session at our home soon arrived – as did the ladies and the ‘selected’ young Black females. The ladies wore hats and long gloves signifying refinement and culture and the seriousness and importance of the sessions. We, the trainees, were ushered to our seats around my family’s long dining room table. My mother – a fabulous cook by heart — had prepared a meal for all to indulge in following the session.
The ladies proceeded to explain to us the reasons for the trainings and what they expected our futures to look like. My mother stood by and listened with appreciative anticipation. She felt privileged that her home had been chosen for the sessions. Mom had never been a part of the Black social scene or so-called upper-crust happenings in Black Portland, therefore, to have been asked for the use of our home was a privilege in her eyes.
Following the talk session, the actual training began. As I listened and observed the training routines, I knew that what was happening was not something I wanted to be a part of. I was directed to stand up and began; however, I refused to get up from my chair at the table. A couple of the women inquired as to whether I felt ill; I responded with a simple “no”. My mother appeared puzzled and stepped forth as she asked me what was wrong. In panic mode I responded with “But I don’t want to be White”.
The ladies laughed and chuckled before imploring me, again, to do the routines the other young Black females before me had done. Again, I responded with the words “But I don’t want to be White”. The ladies looked back and forth at each other and then back and forth at me. They again expressed that it was important that I and the other young Black females learn to be White-like in order to uplift ourselves in the eyes of White folk. They again explained that our futures would be greatly enhanced because we would be acting like White women….
In my young mind, although I knew why the Black women felt such a need, the why did not override my refusal. I repeated my infamous words “But I don’t want to be White”.
Finally, my mother – who was very angry as a result of my refusal to participate — ordered me to get up from the table and to sit on the floor. My mother explained that the seats at the table were for the young women who were participating in the training.
Even though I wanted to leave the dining area, my mother said that I would sit on the floor during each and every session unless I agreed to participate in the training. I sat my buns on the floor and leaned my back against the French doors which separated the dining area from the entry-waiting area in our home. As I sat there, I listened and observed while thinking thoughts that I dare not put to print in this blog.
A couple of the women implored my mother to not be angry with me. They told my mother that I was probably too young to fully understand….’ One of the ladies continued to look back and forth at me as she spoke lovingly about ‘Little Lulu’s stubbornness’. My mother, however, was quite upset with me and I knew that I would be in ‘real’ trouble once the ladies and the other young Black females left our house.
To my mother’s angst, I repeatedly sat on the floor in the dining area and I consistently refused to participate each and every time the training sessions were held at our house. Always, the ladies gave me opportunity to participate and always I responded with the words “But I don’t want to be White”.
Many years later, I learned that my ‘young’ refusal to participate and my words “But I don’t want to be White” became the never-ending ‘talk’ amongst our Black adults of the time. And, I was accorded special respect and admiration and made privy to much as a result of my wisdom and refusal to become White-like….
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Secretive and sensitive information was often anonymously relayed to me during my days and nights in the 1960s and 1970s Black Movement. Whether or not the information was factual or a ploy, I know not. However, I was faced with the task of evaluating the info and ‘wisely’ handling or not handling it.
Stokely ‘Black Power’ Carmichael (lka Kwame Ture) would say that living for your people will prove to be more difficult than dying for your people. He explained that anyone can die. Stokely’s question to me was: Can you live for your people?
The emotional upheaval was heavy for yours truly. I saw many of the brothers and sisters who gave and gave and gave literally ‘lose it’ behind their ever-reaching desire to bring about righteousness in America. America was a cesspool of racism and Whites played that ‘race card’ with ease. Whites openly argued that nothing-of-worth existed without White validation or White discovery.
Whites equated words like black and dark as negatives while equating words like white and light as positives. Whites did not like Black people’s use of the word ‘Black’ in describing ourselves. And, Whites were made uncomfortable when ‘Black’ was linked with the word ‘Power’. Whites were sent off-kilter by Black men and Black women who rejected being called “girl” and “boy”. A sister who wore a natural was looked upon with suspicion by Whites who felt it was a sting and a rejection of White values and limits.
Ralph Featherstone (Feather) — a young Black man in the ‘Movement’ — would often and regularly ask me if there was a ‘contradiction in a sister, clad in a mini-skirt, wearing a natural’. Sadly, Feather died in a car bomb explosion before I ever had the insight or the wherewithal to answer his question. For a myriad of reasons, Feather’s death – like many others’ — will likely remain etched in my memory forever….
We in the ‘Movement’ realized the seriousness of winning. We knew that Black people needed to see us win. Stokely emphasized that our people needed to see us win – regardless of the costs.
There was a real disconnect between Washington, DC’s ‘Black’ Howard University and the Black community of DC. As we formed and organized the ‘original’ DC Black United Front (the Front), one of the many issues we confronted was the separation of Howard students from the community. Folk in the community said that the Howard students thought they were ‘better than and different from’ the Blacks in the community. They spoke of how the students shunned the community and rarely—if ever – lifted a finger to help the community.
In response to the Howard University ‘problem’, we in the Front knew we had to act. After careful deliberation and strategizing, the Front decided to push for student involvement in the community as well as a Black studies program at the school. We reached out to ‘active’ Howard students and they reached out to us.
We knew that administrators of Howard University would be most resistant to community involvement. And, we knew that the strongest possible resistance would come from ‘Black’ Howard University’s administration to formulating a Black studies program at the school. But, we were determined and, as Stokely explained: When Howard falls, the other universities and colleges will prove to be ‘mickey mouse’ to us who mean ‘business’.
Stokely’s assessment and familiarity with Howard University was right-on-target. Active resistance was employed by the University and the school ‘forced’ its students to organize sit-ins and more. Eventually, Howard University’s administration responded by having its students tear gassed, etc. and the campus was soon ablaze in fire. Vehicles were overturned and the campus appeared as a ‘war zone’. In the end, however, the students and community won as Howard University agreed to a Black studies program and more….
Following Howard University’s agreement to institute Black studies, the DC Front sent letters to other colleges and universities reminding them of ‘what had gone down at Howard’…. Needless to say, the response received from other schools was overwhelmingly positive and inviting…. Thus, the advent of Black studies on campuses throughout America resulted from the blood and sweat of both the Black community and Howard’s Black students.
Stokely was never really comfortable with the label “leader”. He saw himself as a community organizer and often spoke of himself in that manner. In private and intimate conversations with me, Stokely shunned the idea of being referred to as a Black ‘leader’.
It is interesting that Stokely, Marion Barry, Rev. David Eaton, and so many of us came together in DC at a particular time to help in organizing and formulating a Movement that brought such impactful racial change to America. How many people know that Stokely used to teach Sunday school to children, Marion studied Chemistry in school, etc.? Each of us – and others — stepped away from that which was comfortable in order to fight the good fight. What we accomplished was nothing short of a miracle. We willingly gave our lives and our dreams to the ‘Movement’….
Black folk in the 1960-1970’s Black Movement knew each other. It did not matter whether the organizers – or ‘leaders’ as some chose to be called – were from California; New York; Oregon; DC; Philadelphia; Atlanta; or NewArk, New Jersey…. We soon got to know each other as a result of our ‘Black’ activism.
I remember my first time meeting Stokely ‘Black Power’ Carmichael. The DC head of the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (lka Student National Coordinating Committee) vouched for me, and Stokely and I immediately became fast friends and more. Although I had spoken to David Eaton on numerous occasions via phone, I well remember the first time we met. David and I, likewise, formed a fast and intimate friendship and more. Often, we were involved in ‘political’ trips together and I became a part of his ‘family’. I recall the first time I met Lester McKinney, Dick Jones, H. Rap Brown, Imamu Baraka, Malauna Ron Karenga, Jesse ‘the Country Preacher’ Jackson, and so many many others.
I learned a lot before I ever had the privilege of meeting particular people in the Movement. I learned a lot while working with and for specific folks in and out of the Movement. And, I have learned a lot since. When I was but a child, my father told me that I would soon learn that the more I learn, the more I will grow to realize how ‘little’ I actually do know. My Daddy was right!
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I am Black. I am angry. I am a woman. And, you – you are at the ‘blog ‘website of BlackAngryWomen. I am one of the writers featured on this blog site. My blog name is BlackParentSpeaks.
There are countless reasons for my anger – most, if not all, stem from slavery. That said, it is now time to get down.
Black women have always been the mainstay of our Black world and we have always remained faithful, loyal, forgiving, and self-sacrificing when it came to our Black men especially. We have loved unconditionally and we have bargained ourselves in our quest to help lift-up our Black men, our children, and ourselves. Our journey, borne out of love, has been fraught with pain, sacrifice, and more sacrifice.
On the ‘Black’ side, Black Women have serious issues and problems relating to self.
We have bought in to the objectification of ourselves by others and we are today characteristically confused. Well, it is past time to brush off the images and the facade and to get real. Black women, get rid of the weaves and other forms of fake hair worn atop your heads. Show your Natural hair and stop altering your hair’s natural color. I overstand that you truly believe you look ‘better’ when you are so adorned. But, please believe me – you do not. You are beautiful in your natural state, not in a made-up and phony state. It is your ‘white’ mentality that is leading you to think of your Natural hair as less than…. Be real and project that realness! Feel worthy and good about the hair you were born with, whether it be coarse, silky or anything in between. And, if you do not have hair, feel good about that as well. For, whatever is natural to you is, in fact, beautiful and worthy. Love yourself unconditionally as you travel through life’s journey. As you practice and continue to apply the art of self-love, you will grow strong and stronger in the process.
Know that other Black women, Whites, and fear-controlled Blacks will be taken aback because of the Natural strength you begin to show as you wear and display your Natural hair. However, be advised that many — and possibly most — will do whatever they can to turn you back around. Some will ask ‘dumb’ questions like ‘How did you get your hair that way?’ Some will ask if they can ‘touch’ your hair. Others will ask ‘What is going on?’ or ‘Are you okay?’ The questions and comments will be endless. In some cases, some of the folk you thought of as ‘friends’ will move to separate themselves from you. And, some of the more vocal folk will question whether you are turning into a ‘militant’! Believe it or not, some among the more ignorant will joke about your Natural hair and urge you to return to the day when you wore non-Natural hair. You will be told that you looked better yesterday, when you wore fake hair; and you will be the subject of inquiring stares and unfriendly looks.
Black women, be advised that your journey with Natural hair will not be an easy one. Employers – both White and Black — will be caught off-guard and co-workers may become nervous and uncomfortable working around you. You could be called in to HR (Human Resources) and questioned relative to your Natural hair. Employers who lack integrity and scruples may falsify complaints and reasons to discipline and/or fire you. Some co-workers and employers could even stoop so low as to alter your work in order to make it look like you are mistake-prone, underproductive, and/or nonproductive. You could be labeled as lazy. You could be written up as a difficult-to-manage employee.
It is well-known that many many many White men – and some White women — are sexually attracted to Black women. Well, a Black woman wearing a Natural will experience even more ‘hit-ons’ from Whites. Fact is fact and no matter how many folk feign denial and/or state otherwise, it is what it is. Forewarned is forearmed so be prepared and have your stuff in order…. Stories have been told about most stern and focused White men and White women who lose direction and become overbearing and, sometimes, dangerous in their lust for ‘Natural’ Black women. Please be aware.
Black women must forever be cognizant of who we are and those around us. We who are Black women must lift each other up as we journey forward. We must encourage one another as we embrace ourselves.
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Black Angry Women 