When slave ships stored humans from Africa and dropped them off throughout the earth’s four corners as chattel, names slashed on this group of people. Though time evolves and the progression of terms is evident, these scattered people’s disconnect continues to increase. Disconnected are we from everything we once were – heritage, tradition, culture, language, way of living as The Most High’s set-apart people.
Selecting the accurate box when asked about my race has always been challenging. Why are African American, Black, and Other all possible options? What are the odds the systemic racism within this country makes a profit from our confusion?
Entirely, I do not identify as African because though I am the descendant of slaves and slaves are said to originate from Africa; my recent research tells me many of our people migrated from what is now called the Middle East. Those of Hebrew descent fled from the Romans and found refuge in various parts of Africa. In addition, going back to Africa used to be a dream of mine, but I often question what am I going back to? Our generations severed intentionally from this continent, and my surprise would be little to none if seen and received by natives as a stranger.
I was born in South Florida. Florida is in the United States, but I do not associate myself as an American. I have family who fought in American wars. Still, I do not pledge my allegiance to a flag with red stripes reminding me of my ancestor’s innocent bloodshed. Or white stripes that I associate with colonizers and their ability to conquer using signatures on a paper — founding their privilege. And white stars on top of natural blue symbolizing the powers that think they are more powerful than He.
No, I am not American.
There is such hypocrisy in being called an African American. The few history lessons we get teach we were not seen as human when America gained its independence from British rule. America’s very constitution established us as three-fifths. May I add this was for the country’s benefit, not ours? It seems America has a track record of labeling African Americans as human or not when it is beneficial for living descendants and carriers of our persecution.
A recent example, Juneteenth is now a federal holiday. Let me say this, celebrating Juneteenth as an African American reminds me of old minstrel shows. Black faces painted, smiling, and singing, depicting our delightfulness in slavery, our alleged joy as slaves. Mother Deborah posed a valid question: How are we celebrating emancipation when we have terrible schools, housing, resources compared to other Americans? Our men emasculated since the slave voyages, and our women raped on many layers — sexually, mentally, emotionally, and more. The so-called Black family strategically ripped a part to where our men feel unvalued and inadequate, our women rely on the government while simultaneously put in positions to “do it all”, and our children are raised by demonic influences and not their chosen parents. Do not even get me started with Black-on-Black crime or street drugs – both weapons we are not manufacturing, yet it is a mystery of where they originate? Yeah, okay. We have an injustice justice system that disproportionately attacks, seeks, and captures our bodies and minds. The very 13th Amendment states slavery is still legal under conditions that widely incorporate us. Research the demographics and growth rate of these private prisons.
We. Are. Not. Free.
Let us not forget the recent 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre. An entire Black-owned neighborhood burned and bombed to the ground by “our fellow Americans”. We were free, told we had American citizenship, when white American townspeople, public officials, and law enforcement murdered our people and decimated the land we affluently formed as our own — terrorism on American soil by American people.
No, I am not African American. I will not wear nor claim this illusion.
This “United” States of America is still the land of our captivity. I will not forget this fact regardless of the so-called progression we paint for ourselves or the crystal-clear image made by the American people.
I recently reread Leviticus 25, and Yah speaks of the time of Jubilee. Many of The Most High’s commandments stuck out to me, but there are two main points I am inclined to share:
Verse 42: Because the Israelites are My servants, whom I brought out of Egypt, they must not be sold as slaves.
Verses 47 through 49: If a foreigner residing among you becomes rich and any of your fellow Israelites become poor and sell themselves to the foreigner or to a member of the foreigner’s clan, they retain the right of redemption after they have sold themselves. One of their relatives may redeem them: An uncle or a cousin or any blood relative in their clan may redeem them. Or if they prosper, they may redeem themselves.
We are due to true freedom, not momentary freedom when it is convenient. We must free ourselves in our minds and rely on The Most High to do the rest, no one else.
I am not looking for reparations. I am not expecting justice. I do not require truth from systemic racism.
The ONLY justice and freedom will come when Yah brings his judgment on these nations.
BUT we must do our part and release these chains the naked eye is not always able to see. . .
2 Chronicles 7:14
If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.
Shalom.
Janelle Poetic Puff Graham 