How it all began...

“You can’t know where you are going till you know where you have been.” When I was a kid, my parents would say this phrase over and over again reiterating the importance of knowing History. I, in my adolescence had no idea how much faith and History would come to mean to me. The very thought that they could intertwine so delicately yet be bonded forever was only something God himself could create. When I was in the third grade my school offered our first Black History class. The classes made me feel powerful and I loved that feeling. Our teacher would talk about Bartolemew De Las Casas a priest who in the 15th century argued that Africans be used as slaves rather than Native Americans which factored in what we know as the evolution of Transatlantic Slave Trade. Our classes were incredibly structured and filled with information and there was not only a standard of excellence held by the teacher but one expected by the students. My reality of Black History was colorful and tragic but hopeful and strong and beautiful. The History was like the missing piece of my puzzle and I was ready to learn everything humanly possible. Now school provided a lot of information but home was also gave a wealth of knowledge. My parents would have very honest conversations with me about lynchings, segregation and the brutalities of Blackness. My father and mother both never hid the realities of “the problem” ( the racial divide in the United States) as Dubois reflects it from me, and were very honest about their own histories with racial injustice. From watching Black History movies to taking Black History classes to meeting actual Black History in the Little Rock Nine and other figures in the Little Rock area I knew this discipline would always be a source for me.

In middle school, I didn’t see much Blackness it was my first time going to a racially mixed school, so I was not as focused on my Blackness as I was trying to fit in and be well received and learning the clarinet which at first proved a challenge and a noisy hassle. Additionally, my focus forever shifted as our nation was hurled into September 11, 2001. Everyone’s patriotism was heightened and the realities of war were right at our doorstep. I also had a new responsibility found in being a big sister to an infant baby brother so needless to say my world was pretty busy for the average 11 year old. However whenever Black History Month rolled around you better believe I was beaming like it was my birthday! Seeing Dr. King’s picture and Rosa Parks pictures line our classroom walls for a brief 29 days was epic! The movies they showed on channel 38 UPN, when the wonderful world of Disney would play Selma Lord Selma or the short John Henry, or when the Nickelodeon shows did a brief Black History special I was always really excited. For a moment in time I held onto that power and it held onto to me! I went to Little Rock Hall High school for 10th, 11th and 12th grades and it was better than I could’ve ever imagined.

In 10th grade our World History teacher noticed a particular knack for history and invited me and another 4 students all young ladies to go to this voting rights conference. We spent the day at one of the most posh and elegant conference room downtown Little Rock had to offer and we went through each group that had been disenfranchised. Our cadre of individuals considered perspectives from Women, Immigrants and Black Americans. When the Black History section came around I was mesmerized the host passed out a piece of paper and said we had about 15 minutes to answer the questions. The questions were ridiculously hard and I often consuluted with the students I attended the event with to see if we could decipher possible answers; however, to no avail. The speaker got back up and asked had we had any difficulty I looked around to the speaker and smugly said,” Nope. Piece of cake.” All lies by the way because the quiz was remarkably difficult. The instructor peered at each table and sneakily smiled and said, “ Ladies and Gentlemen, you have just taken a 1950 Louisiana Literacy Test.” I thought NO WAY!” There may have been a collective moment when everyone in the room mouths fell open in shock that this was an actual reality for Blacks in the South for an extended period. I will never forget just feeling angry and thinking I have to find a way to share this reality so people know this happened. I remember having an intense conversation with my teacher and just feeling like what can I do how do I fix this…