I’m not a socialist or feminist and never thought of myself as either of these. Never found myself on a blacklist, the FBIs Most Wanted List or serving or working in a prison, though I never know what may be in store for me. I don’t advocate lesbianism or atheism, but Angela Y. Davis has been associated with all these, and she is my shero.
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A little more than a year ago my 7-year-old son, Joshua, had an identity crisis. He said the pretty ladies were white and he wanted to be white. Oh, you know my heart sunk. My son didn’t think his momma was pretty. He despised how his grandmothers, aunts and friends look. Blinking to hold back tears, catch my breath and move the lump from my throat, I asked him did he know what he was saying meant. I asked him did he know that he was saying that he didn’t think his momma was pretty. He thought for a second and then said, “Yes. The pretty ladies are white. You don’t have clothes like the ladies at the casino.”
Joshua, 7 years old
I couldn’t hear what Joshua was trying to say. I saw little children picking the white baby doll over the black baby doll. I thought, “How could this happen? He has an Afrocentric mother, parents who love him and affirm his blackness. He’s around positive and progressive black people. He owns and reads books with black images. And he doesn’t watch that much TV. How could a baby like mine say he wanted to be white?” And I felt like a failure. I hadn’t instilled cultural pride into my child and now he was telling me so. After the nanosecond of these thoughts flooding my mind I thought to ask him WHY he wanted to be white. He reasoned: “All the white people wear nice clothes. The black children on TV don’t have food and clothes and hell is dark. I want us to be white.”
With his one hour of television a week, which included pleas to help poor children in Africa, casino billboards with fancy dressed white people, and lessons on salvation, Joshua had ascertained that all things white must be good and all things black must be bad, and he didn’t want any of us to have any part of anything bad. And though what he was saying revealed a bad situation, I was relieved. At 6, my son was a critical thinker and he wanted what he perceived to be the best for him and his family. Now the task was to teach him about propaganda meant to entice and make him feel less than others.
I thought I would deluge him with the history of black oppression at the hands of whites, saturate my home with more Afrocentric images, become involved in former activities where he would see me dressed in formal clothes and be around those I knew who flaunted their money and status. But as a strong black woman in recovery who is healing from racial and social pride, I knew these were bad ideas. They would perpetuate in Joshua what I was trying to get rid of in me. So I did what I should have done in the first place: pray.
In the middle of the night, Proverbs 6:25 came to my mind and I knew God was giving me the answer to help my son and others who may be competitive to the point of being covetous. “Lust not after her beauty in thine heart; neither let her take thee with her eyelids.” This ‘her’ was the ‘strange woman’ in verse 24 and though the strange woman here is interpreted whore, the Hebrew word also means “foreign; someone not like you.” And the word lust is the same Hebrew word for covet. Joshua loves the Bible and constantly looks for applications in his life. I knew we needed to revisit The 10 Commandments, specifically “Thou shalt not covet” because God was saying at the root of Joshua’s identity crisis was an issue with covetousness. Joshua was coveting his neighbor’s skin color and possessions, and I was convinced that Joshua would get this. He did.
On his own, Joshua said, “I’m telling God, ‘I know you gave me this skin color, but I don’t want it. I want white skin.” Then he looked embarrassed and curious, like he had just been scolded and knew what the consequences would be if he didn’t stop coveting. Joshua learned the lesson immediately and there has been no more talk about wanting to be white. This lesson, along with teaching that God created ‘all nations of men,’ has helped Joshua understand that his being black was no accident but an intentional incident, and because of that he has no reason to covet. Joshua is my hero because he took the word of God and immediately applied it to his life. Also, Joshua now is quite proud to be black, constantly expressing awe and joy when discovering blacks’ accomplishments. I’m just working on his ability to love all the nations of people God has created and not seek to return hate for hate. As we reflect on the state of black people during this Black History Month, I think Joshua’s lessons are good for us all.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
With a new car and summer job, my time in New York was supposed to be perfect, at least that’s what my friends and others thought because of my cosmopolitan ways. “You’re going to love New York. It’s so you,” they would say to allay my trepidation of leaving my up south city and going east to bright lights in a real up north city. But this 22-year-old girl from Detroit had real culture shock and homesickness when I smelled the garbage in China Town, saw street mayhem in Times Square, looked for my lost car in Brooklyn, and heard I had to work on Long Island and in Manhattan. I was somewhat petrified. Well, a lot really that I talked about cutting my 10-week internship short by eight weeks. I wanted to go home. Instead I called my praying grandmother—again—and she gave me some scriptures and words of encouragement—again—and I felt better for the moment—again, but I needed something more, someone, and I found her the day I ventured to Bridge Street AME Church.
The members smiled and greeted me after the pastor had visitors to stand and she was among them, Ernestine I’ll call her because I don’t remember her name but I remember her. She wore a brightly colored print bubu and black pants complete with rusty blond hair peeking from under a kufi. Probably in her early 60s, Ernestine gave me a wide smile, strong hug, introduced herself and insisted I call her by her first name. I felt warm and was so glad my fear didn’t cause me to stay at home. But after service, I briefly wished I had. Members hurried about to talk to friends, make dinner plans and serve at church information tables. I glanced about as my pew emptied then gathered my things to leave. As I moved slowly down the pew to the aisle, Ernestine waved to me from among a throng and made her way to invite me to spend the day with her. I readily agreed.
We went to her Brooklyn brownstone before she took me to a street fair and a lecture by the famous historian Dr. John Henrik Clarke. As she changed her clothes, I admired her wood furniture, African carvings and paintings, mahogany fireplace and a picture of her mate. He had passed a few years back, a brief illness I think. Now in a summer sweater with her black slacks, she fixed a snack of peanut butter toast and coffee and told me about her “king.” That’s what I remember. She kept saying, “He was my king!”
In that moment, I knew I wanted a love like hers, to love like her, to be in a place where I had no problem reverencing my man. I wanted sweet times and golden memories that would make me shriek “he is my king.” And I have that now, due in large part to Ernestine, a woman confident in her femininity, comfortable with her Christianity and African culture and the strength of her man where she didn’t mind calling him her king.
In New York I did come to love Chinese food delivery, hanging out in the Village and on Harlem’s 125th Street, and going to Junior’s on Brooklyn’s Atlantic and Flatbush. But above all I loved a woman whose name escapes me but the memory of her love for life and her man will remain with me forever.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
Happy New Year!
This is the start of a new decade and, for many, the start of a new day for a new life. Some of us have been knocked down. Others of us have been knocked out. Some have been mishandled and misplaced, but we find ourselves here on this day, and I thank the Lord! Times may have been tough, but God got us through.
On this, the seventh and final day of Kwanzaa, focusing on Imani (faith), let us place faith in God and not in our black selves to be better and to live better lives. As we prepare blackeye peas and promises to do better, let us remember that God has laid the foundation for us to do well. It’s not the luck of a pea or the faith in self that has kept or will ever keep us. God has kept us, and He is the one who tells us who we are and what we should think about ourselves:
We are beautiful because God says we’re beautiful (Psalm 139:14).
Our blackness is relevant because God says it’s relevant (Acts 17:26).
We can be used to do anything because God uses us too (Acts 2:10, 8:27).
As we encounter trials this year, including white racism, let us have faith in God because He has given us the proper perspective to deal with racists and any other haters. We can be proud of who we are and have faith in where we can go because of the faithful one, our Lord Jesus Christ, who gives meaning and purpose to our lives. We can make 2010 a good one because of Him.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
About 10 years ago, I thought I had my career all figured out. I would be an acclaimed academician, teaching, writing books and papers, publishing them in journals and presenting them at conferences. I called myself a scholar and defined that that would mean always engaging students and writing papers that would give attention to African American issues. All this was to put my name on the map and to contribute to the exultation of African Americans. The plan was air tight but not right because I hadn’t sought the Lord’s direction. After accomplishing most of the plan, it fell apart because I fell apart, buckling under the weight of self-determination.
Self-determination: “[T]he ability or right to make your own decisions without interference from others” (Encarta Dictionary) or commonly defined during Kwanzaa “to define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves.” This is kujichagulia, the second principle of Kwanzaa. And though this is the fifth day of Kwanzaa, deconstructing self-determination is important to understand the overall danger of Kwanzaa for Christians.
1. Self, based on self, cannot be your focus. “None is righteous, no, not one” (Romans 3:10). Understand that when you of your own power decide for yourself who you are and where you’re going, you will end up bankrupt every time. Christians are not meant to define themselves or their destiny. When we do, our lives fall short of what God intends; we are incapable of bringing forth good success.
2. It is always the job of the creator to name and define the creature. “You turn things upside down! Shall the potter be regarded as the clay, that the thing made should say of its maker, ‘He did not make me’; or the thing formed say of him who formed it, ‘He has no understanding’” (Isaiah 29:16)? If we decide apart from God who we are and where we are going, we are regarding God, the potter, as the clay, disregarding His authority in our lives to name and define us and tell us what to create and say on whoever’s behalf.
3. Definitions determine destiny. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits” Proverbs 18:21. What we speak (life-defeating or life-affirming words) will be our focus and we will receive the fruit (consequences) of what we speak. So we can either become what we say we are based upon our own notions or we can become who God says we are based on His notions. Our notions are always life-defeating; when we act on our own accord, we are following our old life, one that was without Jesus Christ. Once we accepted Jesus Christ as savior, we were given a new life so our notions must be His notions (2 Corinthians 5:17); He is the one who defines us and, thus, determines our destiny.
King Uzziah had a good destiny when he allowed God to define him and followed his God-given destiny. The minute he was self-determined and tried to move out of his God-determined place as king and act like a priest, he became weak; God struck him with leprosy and he died with it. He no longer ruled and lived alone until he died. Self-determination always has dire consequences.
No Christian should be in the business of naming or defining herself, and any creativity and speaking forth should be to develop Christ’s kingdom and not the kingdom of self, be it an individual self or a black collective self. Any movement apart from the direction of the Holy Spirit is self driven, flesh driven, and has no part in the kingdom of God.
Copyright 2009 by Rhonda J. Smith