Must I Justify My Blackness!

“Must I Justify My Blackness!” is an expression of self love. It has been intended to share the most prominent expression of what is visible, the color of my skin, which is that of an African-American.  Giving insight into the richness of this part of my African heritage delights me. I am also French, Irish, and Native American, I’ve been told.  But, no matter how many times I have been told of these connections in reality is goes unnoticed. My African experience and my sociological journey which has evolved into tradition is one of pride. So, in acceptance of self I hold on to the world as my family and my brothers and sisters as true kinship.  

                     The real challenge came when I shared several pieces of my art with a local gallery owner in hopes of hanging my works for sell. I wore African attire on my visit. I describe my complexion as a warm brown and I love it. I use to worry because I didn’t think I was black enough in color.  I knew I did not want to be fair, even though I loved my fair complexioned relatives.  Later I learned that my blackness came in my character not in the color of my skin. To my surprise this Caucasian gallery owner was disappointed because he felt my work was not representative of African art.  My art displayed no big eyes, no big lips, and no buck teeth...all of his preconceived notions of “nigger.” But in spite of his discontent I was still black. Little did he know he had only scratched the surface. I am not a renegade. I am a renaissance woman. I will always and will forever be BLACK.

                     I was reared on two key principles in life; pride and dignity. As a matter of fact it came naturally.  It was all I ever saw without a revolution. Fortunately, both my mother and father were in the home. Growing up we were taught ignorant people argued and intelligent people discussed.  I come from proud people who knew God, and believed He was stronger than any obstacle in life.

                     However, my up bringing is unrelated to the foregoing confessions. In life experiences reality is more vast. It engenders life not as an African, French, Irish, or Native American, but as an American. Instead, it is one of being brought up as an American. “Must I Justify My Blackness!,” dispels the myths of color and focuses on the reality of Black excellence, pride and  dignity within the context of society as a whole, cause God born all men great, all men free.  

                     I wonder why we persist on enslaving one another. The obvious signs of pain and oppression are exhibited as that of fear; fear of the unknown, fear of the known, and fear of losing. It is one which keeps me thinking and wondering what heaven is going to really look like. ‘Cause everybody talking bout heaven ain’t going there. Though words are never spoken, open eyes see all things. It is high time to let the captives free. Let us look inside these pages and take a journey on what my eyes have seen, ears have heard, and heart has felt. It is life, it is real, it is hope.