Interactions

 

"Why in the world would she do that? How could he? I'd NEVER think to do what they did..."  

Thus begins my ego-centered monologue about the efficacy of other people's decisions, choices, or boundaries.   Admittedly, I base my determinations solely on my belief system.  Truth be told, I rarely evaluate the quality of my conclusions.  Even as I ask, I reconcile a probable answer, whether as simple as "Why do I have brown eyes?" or "Why does an antiquated law remain enforceable?"

It's one thing to wonder why people launch unprovoked attacks on others; it's quite another, however, when I attack myself as if I were distinct "Other."  Nevertheless, I'll ask.  Why do I accuse, then indict myself for a misstep or infraction; convene and conduct a trial in which I serve as prosecutor and jury; then declare myself guilty as charged? Not surprisingly, I expect and get the harshest punishment the law allows.

Why?

Even as I ask, I reduce its probable answer to one word: "Because."  Often as a kid, Mother's final words would begin with "Because," as in "Because I said so!"  For a scaredy-cat like me, her declaration translated into a resounding "No!"  Yet, I still wanted to know.  Know what, exactly?  Why Mother had said no? No! I need to know from what pit of hell the self-flagellation derived? Why did guilty verdicts come at every intersection of my life? How was it that, with the alacrity of a fly flitting from one spot to another, I donned garments of the accuser, prosecutor, and hanging judge for behaviors that rarely warranted the time, energy, or attention?

Hmm.

Recently, my beloved grandson took to social media to describe how he beats himself up over the most minor infraction,.  Why did his lament sound so familiar and ring so true? How had his reflexive indictment marched through centuries and landed in his chromosomal pool?  Surely I didn't serve as the antecedent for his behavior, did I? Had it begun with me, his grandmother! How far back could it be traced?  Let the finger-pointing begin! 

Certainly, generational curses go back forever? They can be found in Old Testament Scripture (Exodus 34:7; Numbers 14:18; Deuteronomy 5:9).  Yet, I'm sure that's not where my grandson's indictment emanated, although it may have derived from it.  No! I posit it germinated in the despicable, dire, and dastardly transport of African captives from their homeland to the New World.  

The inhuman enslavement of Africans that followed produced unconscionably, cruel repercussions that grew like weeds in an untended yard.  They produced conditions their progeny, in turn, endured.  Not surprisingly, a social system replete with cultural artifacts resulted. A culture of racial apartheid and jim crow laws flourished, fueled by avarice and hypocrisy and justified by bastardizing selected Scripture from the New Testament.

"Lord Jesus, can I have a talk with you?
Lord Jesus, it won't be long before I'm through
Lord Jesus, I got to tell you about my cares,
Lord Jesus, all the  burdens that I bear"
Lord Jesus, although the storms and billows roll
Lord Jesus, You've been a comfort to my soul,
Lord Jesus, I just come to have this talk with you,
My Lawdy, this take with you."

Is it any wonder that in the second decade of the twenty-first century, at least two generations of Black people in America still carry self-condemnation as easily as we use our cell phones? How can we still not understand how we got tagged with racism's tar brush? I labor now to dig up, root out, and destroy the poisonous legacy that has taken an indescribable and immeasurably painful toll on my family, on me, and on millions and millions who look like us. 

Wonder no longer, grandson. Instead, research and study the unexpurgated history of African descendants in the New World.  May I suggest Lerone Bennet's Before the Mayflower as a starting point?  Or you can jump to Nikole Hannah-Jones' 1619,  Bon Apetit.