Dance to the History

I've been called Brown, Colored, Nigger, Black, Bronze, African-American and then by my name. Like alot of kids, with the same skin color-some lighter, some darker--we've all been told we could be anything we set our mind to.

My heart was set on being a ballerina. Wanted to dance on my toes. I was about 9 or 10, when my mom burst the Anything Bubble. She informed since I wasn't built the 'right way' I couldn't be a ballerina. So my dance teacher put me in a hula skirt because I looked 'authentic.' Granted, it could have been my knees or ankles, or maybe I wasn't built like a white girl. I don't know. I never asked about it again, even when I got older. My heart was broken. So much for being able to do anything. I still believed, but not as much.

Then comes today. A day of History. I think of my ancestors, who were slaves in Virginia, during the building of the White House. Maybe their sweat and grit built that mansion. Did they wonder if they would ever be able to do anything else? Would they always be slaves to another man? Dare not to hope, to dream, or to feel? I think of what my family and others endured to get to this moment.

As a kid I worried about only to dance on my toes. My ancestors walked to do what had to be done just to survive. Did they think as presidents moved into the White House and brought their slaves with them, would ever be a day like this? A man who shared the same skin color, yet not owned by another man, to lead a free country of every man. Did they?

Listen close. Hear their voices? The winds of time have not silenced them. The voices of our past. Those voices whisper hope, faith--they nod, because they believed this day would come.

History.

I am a woman who has been called Brown, Colored, Nigger, Black, Bronze, African-American and then by my name. Just call me an American.

History. Today. How can one not look at today and not believe they CAN be anything they set their mind too? I may not dance on my toes, yet I will dance.

God Bless the United States of American and President Barack Obama.

History

History.
My great great grandparents: Enos, born 1814 and Louisa, born 1825. Slaves in Virginia. Not that far from Washington DC. Their son, Elias also my great grandfather, and his son, Andrew, my grandfather, both lived in Washington DC for a time. Did they wonder if justice and equal for all would ever touch them? Did they wonder how life would be better for their future family? Did they wonder if they would ever cast votes? Let their voices be heard? Respected as men and woman--and not less than live stock? Did they wonder if someone Black would walk the hallways of the White House that was not a servant? For that person to hold highest position in the land, with the world as its audience?
I'm sure they did. Optimism runs in my family.
History.
It's still being made.