Roots In Cabrini Green

In 1977, when the mini series Roots was first aired , I was a second grader at Richard E. Byrd Elementary School located at 363 W. Hill Street in Cabrini Green. My teacher was Mrs. Mastoon, a thin straight haired woman. She encouraged us to watch Roots in the evening at home and to participate in a discussion the next morning. Some of the kids mocked the way they saw people from other ethnicities pronounced the word ‘roots' Many of our daily discussions were insightful accounts of what our ancestors endured. Some of the exchanges was angry dialogue. Then some of the discussions launched in to uncomfortable banter. Some of the students mocked Kunta Kinte's flogging with the whip and made the ‘woo-tash' sound (a sound that a whip makes) at each other and ‘said what's your name boy, your name is Toby.' Then you had some kids mocking the way Kunte Kinte held his child up in the air and said, ‘Behold something greater than yourself.' I couldn't laugh because I didn't see the humor in it. I saw the pain and suffering and I saw the strength and hope In the slaves. Ironically, as a kid I found it easy to watch ‘Roots' but as an adult it breaks my heart to watch. I guess it is because I know and have experienced more. Yes, as a child it was difficult to see the Middle Passage when the slaves were aboard the ship on their way to America, dead bodies being thrown overboard, people sick, salt being thrown into their open wounds, women and children being raped. When they arrived on America's shores they were placed on an auction block, something to this day I can't fathom. When I saw Levar Burton's character Kunte Kinte being brutally beaten into submission, I came away feeling empowered and the scene left an indelible mark on my psyche because I knew that the strength and the will that he demonstrated in the face of adversity was the symbolism of the determination and belief system of a people who knew they were somebody. I saw Kunte Kinte's determination in my mother when she got up to go to work everyday and when she instilled in us that we are responsible for our own destiny and to never let anyone treat us any less of a person because of our address. I saw Kunte Kinte's spirit in many of the parents who were determined to see their children graduate from high school and do something with their lives. Around this same time some parent's paid tribute to ‘Roots' by naming their children Kizzy. I also heard but I don't know if it's true that someone tried to name their baby ‘Chicken George' but the staff in the hospital was like, ‘come on now.' Folks in the neighborhood were wearing dashiki's, head wraps and talking about going to visit the Motherland the cradle of civilization. The feeling of pride was in the air but then you had people comparing us or people who lived in housing projects to slaves. On the surface, I really didn't understand the correlation. Because physically we were free to go anywhere we wanted. But I guess they were referring to some of our mentality. But I pose this question what exactly is the mentality of a slave or the mentality of my ancestors? My ancestors refused to answer to any old moniker. I don't think they sat around and called each other 'slave' this and slave that 'and you my slave.' My ancestors risked life and limb to hold on to their beliefs and they believed in a brighter day. My ancestors spoke in code in order to help each other. These days folks talk in code in order not to squeal on dishonest folks who wreak havoc in the neighborhood. Slaves cared about what their children learned. My ancestors went through mental anguish when their children, spouses, brothers, and sisters were sold off on auction blocks. These days some folks bear children and don't turn around to try and raise them. My ancestors refused to become extinct and reinvented themselves. These days folks on all sides of the city are engaged in gang wars and taking their peers out. Generation after generation my ancestorsheld on to traditions such as jumping the broom to get married and told their offspring about those who past on. Nowadays, men are just donating sperm and walking away after giving multiple women the moniker ‘baby mama.' I often wonder if I could have survived as a slave. I don't think I could have been that strong. I know that some slaves did the best they could but just couldn't live another day under such tyranny. Times have changed but in some ways they really haven't. As a black person you can still be chained up or cuffed and beaten on the spot and carted off for not conforming. Like the old folks say, 'whosenever you be, a professor or a peddler you will have some form of control put on you to keep you in your place.

In 2009, though thousands of us have left the nation's ghetto's we are still fighting for certain inalienable rights and fighting within. We elected the first black president and a few weeks later we watched him being referred to as a monkey and then a few weeks after that his wife is referred to as a monkey. And every time the president says something America deems as politically incorrect, they want him to apologize. They can refer to him and the first lady as a monkey but hell, he can't make an innocent joke about a handicap? But then handicap folks always want to liken their struggle to being black or a minority. But anyway, I digress. However difficult times may be I know that God has a work for me in this lifetime. Though I wonder about the circumstances I live under now which aren't the greatest it reminds me of a lyric in a Stevie Wonder song called "As' that goes something like this, ‘We all know sometimes life hates and troubles can make you wish you were born in another time and space but you can bet your lifetimes that and twice it's double That God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed So make sure when you say you're in it, but not of it You're not helpin' to make this earth A place sometimes called hell. Change your words into truths And then change that truth into love And maybe our children's grandchildren And their great grandchildren will tell I'll be loving you until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky.' That says to me that my ancestors have brought me this far and I owe it to them to continue to leave roots for those who are coming behind me.