My Dear Children ---
I want to abolish the "N" word. And while we're at it, I want to abolish self-doubt, self-deprecation, self-hatred. That is what the word NIGGER means to mean. I don't care how you spell it, how you say it, it is a word forged and fueled by hate.
I love you. From the darkest ebony to the lightest olive of skin, I see your beauty. It is blinding as it tells both the joy and the sorrow, but also the perserverance of a people who have endured much. And when I see that someone would pay you to say the word over and over again in a rap song, I not only want to protect you from the word, but also from its meaning.
At www.abolishthenword.com, a song plays in the introduction called "Strange Fruit." I remember the first time I drove through the South, heading towards Atlanta. I'd never been much pass the Louisiana border, but as I drove into Alabama, just as the sun was clearing the horizon, I saw lush, green, Kudzu. It choked the trees as it rambled around the trunk of huge trees and wound its way through the branches. The leaves looked rich and strong and I couldn't help but cry savage tears. It broke my heart in two and at that moment, I didn't know why. My babies (they were babies then) slept beside me and in the back and I felt afraid. Yet, I didn't know why. I thought it was hormones or something, but as I tried to look into that lush, green, forest, it came to me. Here is the growth from the soil nurtured by death. MURDER.
I can't begin to help you understand what went through me that morning. I looked again at my babies and knew that I would never let anything happen to them. I resolved, that was then--this is now! And stayed two years in Atlanta before deciding that I couldn't always separate the then from now in that place.
We have come a long way. That much I know. I have three beautiful children, a wonderful, intelligent grandson who is full of energy and life. And I have a new mission---to help end the use of the word, not to be afraid of it, but to never answer to it. Neither from friend or foe.
"Strange Fruit" has been sung by many. My favorite version is still Nina Simon's, in part, I believe because she took herself away, as I did, from the tyranny of the south. Did she find comfort in another land. I doubt it, but she kept her sanity, I believe, because of it. I often look for those sacred spaces---places away from racism and classism. I find it, too. My friends far and near have shown me those sacred spaces, where racism and the other isms of life are conquered. They are conquered by our friendships and other friendships like ours and the knowledge that it isn't just because I'm the exception to the rule (I'm not), but that we find the humanity in each other and relish the love that comes from knowing true relationship despite the differences.
This year I've spent time away from home. I was running away for my sanity, it seems. A lot has happened in the last decade that makes me understand how precious life is. Hard times can make us hard, or ...
And here is what I'm learning. Hard times can make us appreciate the quieter, sacred spaces because there is nothing that guarantees hard times won't come. Just ask those who were displaced by Katrina last year. Ask any child in Uganda and ask anyone who has lost a loved one. But, as to what I'm learning, we must answer to who we are. Who we are is God's gift. Because we are a gift to one another, we should call ourselves by our rightful name. We aren't any of the names that were created to separate us, to make us feel unworthy or unloved, to disenfranchise us. No matter the race or culture. We are God's gift, children of the world, brothers and sisters all. So, the next time you want to call out to your homegirl or boy---remember, brother or sister is who we are and that's all we should answer to.
--- Peace
