Here we find two words that stir up the thunder diluted with month. Since my descent from African stock in the diaspora dawned on me I have never lost sight of the difference between the African genius and the world into which her children were thrust.
Discrimination based on skin colour has been driving policy on the planet for a long time, longer than most know. The sister and brother of Moses had a problem with Moses’ Ethiopian wife. That may be the first on public record.
The problems with BHM include the facts of (1) people of African descent playing games with colour and (2) far too many of us reluctant to embrace Africa as mother. That is pathetic because the “mothers” of the dominant nations of our times have all been imperialist, serial rapists.
- They all are imitations of the papacy. They all want to have authority over life (what people think and do)
- At some point they have demanded worship
- They love to be called amazing.
It was 1970 when I began to discover who my people in the Island nation of Antigua and Barbuda were. My conviction then was “I am an African and proud of it”. It remains.
If there are no African leaders raising the banner of the cause of Africans everywhere are we not to conclude that the vision of our common struggle is either dead or irrelevant? But who dares utter that evaluation about having coming a long way and having a long way to go? Not I. The struggle is not an infinite or unending journey. If we are not taking a firm stand everywhere – in church, school, mosque, synagogue, workplace, sport, and government – we might want to consider leaving the issue alone. Black History is either exercises in justice or fine sayings to educate people and warm their hearts.
Our struggle must be in our image