Monday, July 7, 2008
My mother will act totally nonchalant when she lays eyes on my latest $4 Salvation Army find. Then. . . she'll go in her room, close the door and rejoice.
Who remembers the Afrocentric 90's ? My father had a jacket with kente clothe panels sewn onto the arms. We all thought it was awful. He wore it just because of that fact.
On Saturdays my mother would pack Cornpuddin' and I into our family minivan and and drive us to another elementary school where we attended a camp called "Project A.F.R.I.C.A.". At "Project A.F.R.I.C.A." we sung songs about Africa and made African inspired crafts. (Such as felt kufis ).
I have since forgiven my mother for all that. And I got her back good by falling in love with grunge and skateboarding.
I leave you with a video of one of my favourite songs ever (I'm not sure if this is that official video). "Umi" means "mother" in Arabic. The 90's were strange times. I remember never feeling "black enough" for many of my fellow black classmates. My roots, like many African Americans are fairly untraceable. When I was six, I drew a flag of India for my school's International Day, because it was easy to draw and apparently I have Native American ancestors. . . hence, "Indians", my six-year-old mind thought.
I think that identity is what you make of it. But a sense of self is something which gradually comes with time. Once you get to the right age, you know where you've been and you know where you're going. . . no matter how traceable your roots may be. Be happy with who you are. . . I am.
PS- There is a little girl dancing her heart out at 3:10. That little girl has more rhythm in her little finger than I will ever have in my entire body. I've accepted it gracefully. I am black. I have no rhythm. Shit happens.
Posted by etoilee8 at 10:12 PM