Heritage Poem

Heritage poem… This is MY country!

2 February 2013 

I know not when my ancestors came to this country

No dates, no names, no family crests…

I do know that they came at different times, and some

            were already here when the first settlers landed on Plymouth Rock.

How do I know?

I know by looking at the pictures from as far back as forever

Rainbow-black family… some light enough to pass for white, some as black as the night

            with every shade in between.

And so I know

            in the squalid, nasty bellies of slave ships, came some

            aboard the bright and promising ships from the shores of Europe some came

            and they were welcomed and cared for

            by my nature-worshipping, resourceful ancestors whose country this already was.

So, when I hear selfish, self-centered white Americans

            speak of “taking THEIR COUNTRY back”… I want to scream:

THIS IS MY COUNTRY! AMERICA IS MY COUNTRY, TOO!!

            and perhaps because of my heritage, it is more MY COUNTRY than yours!

My ancestors’ blood built this…

            My ancestors planted and harvested the crops that made this country the richest nation in the world.

            My ancestors taught your ill-prepared and ill-advised ancestors how to survive in harsh and changing climates, and how to protect themselves from famine and disease

            My ancestors, the descendents of kings and queens, allowed your devious, thieving ancestors to rob them of their rich and colorful heritage, to take away their freedom, their language, their stories, their pride… to help your ancestors build a country they stole from my indigenous ancestral line.

            My ancestors bought into an American dream that was never theirs, because every time they got close to claiming it, to claiming even their forty acres and a mule, the dream was snatched out of their reach by your deceptive ancestors… claiming to take their country back.

            My ancestors believed that your lying ancestors were going to deliver on a promise for which my ancestors marched and sang and fought and died…were fired upon with guns and fire hoses, and had the dogs set upon them… not knowing then that the assistance they were promised required the surrendering of what little pride was salvaged to pass on and be instilled in the children and grandchildren… required that the young ones buy into the slave mentality, money hungry, label grabbing, bling-oriented culture that had been created as a trap, just in case, by some chance, our children had managed to salvage some Black pride, Black love of self, Black is BEAUTIFUL-ness.   

America created me… by giving me all the heritages that are mine. I inherited America.

America allowed the beating and raping, polluting my ethnicity then blaming me for the chestnut color of my skin, the milky/ creamy color of my sisters and brothers, the boot-black shine of my cousins, aunts and uncles

America

            created my crinkly, nappy hair, my thick lips, my high cheekbones

            created my naturally curly hair, European nose, translucent skin tones

America created me and all the things that I am… and am not.

America seeks to deprive me of some things they can never take from me:

            my indomitable spirit, my natural beauty, my deep rich voices, my bodies’ rhythmic sensual sway, my ability to look young and be energetic until the day I die… even if I live a hundred years.

THIS IS MY COUNTRY. AMERICA IS MY COUNTRY, TOO!!

            and because of my heritage, it IS more my country than it is yours.

I AM AMERICA.