I was a little eight year-old Negro girl when Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. I remember crying in the living room with my parents and my brother. Of course, we’d been through this before with John Kennedy and Malcolm X, two other men who gave us hope, as a people. But, while Malcolm was certainly articulate and sent a message of power and self-reliance, Martin spoke the words that resonated with Christians (which most Africans converted to as a matter of survival generations before); words of peace, Love and reconciliation.

During the 60’s we sang, marched and hoped for equality in the eyes and laws of white Americans. That Negro children might be educated in schools with the same quality of supplies (desks, textbooks, building infrastructure, and access to $ resources) giving them a possibility of Life beyond servitude was the deep desire of Negro parents and grand parents. Martin exemplified and amplified that hope.

With his powerful persona - poised, articulate and often the center of media attention - Martin was able to project the image of the ‘Negro Man’ that we knew lived in our people, out into the world. His presence commanded respect and we shared in that respect, believing it might be possible for us, as well.

Today, 42 years later, I continue to hold fast to the ideas that we can treat one another with Love, respect, Peace and reconciliation. And though many would say we have come far, I hold a different opinion. It is true that we can now work side by side in the bee hives we call offices and that in small segments of most American cities you can even find us living in the same communities. But, for the most part, we are still separate. Separated by class, opportunity, image and earnings, we have learned to pretend that we are equal.

My neighborhood is filled with African Americans who live the American dream; Mercedes Benz in the garage, children in private school and a 4-bedroom house in which to live. That is a good thing. My city as a whole however, is filled with children whose families live well below the poverty level. Their schools, while improving, are staffed and funded at the bare minimum. The services provided by the city are far less than those provided to wealthier communities. Less frequent bus service (though the poor use the service more frequently), more expensive supermarkets with inferior goods and substandard housing at above market pricing are all markers of poverty in America. Today, the average black woman earns 68 cents for every dollar earned by her white male counterpart. Hispanic women earn 57 cents. As a single, African American Mom I am intimately aware of the impact of this reality on my own Life and that of my child.

A Congressional Committee organized to investigate the Life Options of Young African American Males heard the following testimony in 2005:

• About one-third of male youth of color (primarily African-American and Latino) fall into what the Department of Labor describes as the “disconnected youth” category: young people who are isolated and have limited to no participation in the labor force.
• Almost two-thirds of the US prison population are persons of color, predominantly African-American and Latino, and predominantly male.
• Ten percent of black males between the ages of 25 and 29 were in prison in 2001, compared to 2.9% of Latino males and 1.2% of white males in the same age group.
• The Sentencing Project estimates that in some jurisdictions one in three African-American men between the ages of 20 and 29 are under correctional supervision.
• In the 100 largest US cities, 58% or more of the ninth-grade students in high-minority schools do not graduate four years later, and African-American drop-outs are eight times more likely to be in state or federal prison than are white drop-outs.
• Nationwide, African-American students are three times as likely as white students to be labeled mentally retarded and twice as likely to be labeled as having emotional disturbances.

None of these statistics take away personal responsibility for Life choices. But, if you don’t think a stacked deck makes it harder to make good choices then you are either naïve or heartless.

This brings me back to Martin, whose message was one of justice and equity. How far have we come, really? Do we embrace one another or continue to exclude and exploit? In 50 years will we still be waging war with anyone who pisses up off or will we focus on reconciliation, justice and peace? What will it take to shift our focus from consumerism to citizenship?

I don’t know the answer to these questions, but I’d like to hear your thoughts.

Until then, be well…

p.s. to read Dr. Martin Luther King’s Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech (which is worth reading again and again) Just click on his name.

I spent the first day of the new year with my child, her SpiritMother (one of my past business partners and dear friends) and the woman who has known me longer than anyone on the planet (except for my blood relatives), my friend Lynette.  I have had people come and go in this Life; it's what happens as change and disruption (both welcome and unwlecome) take their place in our lives.  But, Lynette is a constant.  Even if we don't get to speak more than 3 or 4 times a year, her place in my heart is a forever kind of place.

 

The first time I fell in Love was with Lynette's brother.  She and the rest of her family thought I was a fast hussy because I made out in the back seat of the car with him in their driveway (she told that story to my daughter today who was disgusted at the thought of my kissing a boy at 14).  It makes me laugh just to think of it.  It took time, but I won the family over.  Besides, I was deeply in Love with Eddie.  He was the one person who understood whatever there was to understand about my Life and its traumas and trials.  Eddie was a gift in the midst of chaos.  His is a story of sweetness and sympatico...

 

When I was 14 and met him, Eddie was 17.  Far too old for me and my parents (Daddy especially) disliked him immediately.  Eddie came over and had a heart to heart with my Dad - the substance of which I do not know to this day- but he did ask if it was okay to take me out.  When the talk was over my dad said to me that he thought Eddie was a good young man, but he was too sick (suffering with asthma which we knew so little about back then).  He told me that for my own good I should not get involved with him.  I cried and told my father that he was crueler than I could ever have imagined.  My own brother had life-threatening bouts with asthma just as Eddie did and I asked if Eric should also go without ever having a girlfriend because he was so sick.  Daddy just looked at me and said 'I dont want you to get hurt'.  We hugged and I told him I would be ok, it was going to be fine.  I suppose it has all turned out ok.

 

It was summer when Eddie and I met and learned to Love one another (that our Love was never consummated is my one regret) and then Eddie had to leave for college - Coe College in Cedar Rapids, IA; on the other side of the world for this NYC girl.  We wrote a few times a week and I was looking forward to Thanksgiving break when he said he would come home.  But the week before he was due to arrive he called to say he couldn't make it, the flights were too expensive to travel for just a few days.  The call itself was almost consolation - some of you may remember how rare and special a long distance call was in 1971 - but I missed him so much. 

 

I muddled through the week and the evening before Thanksgiving I fell asleep on my bed before it even got dark.  I had a dream that I don't really remember much about except that Eddie was in it.  I remember him smiling at me and leaning in to kiss me. As our lips touched my whole body was filled with an electric current that I cannot accurately describe (this has happened 3 times in my Life and I believe I have written about at least one of those latter times in a previous entry - though I am not entirely sure).  It was warm and powerful, not frightening at all, and it filled me from head to toe.  As I opened my eyes in the sheer beauty of that feeling, I found myself actually being kissed, ever so lightly on the lips by Eddie.

 

'Happy Birthday', he said, as my birthday was later that week.  And friends, I cried.  I could not believe that my heart's desire had been answered in so absolute a way.  It was a wonder and a Joy I still reflect upon, from time to time.

 

Anyway, a lot of Life has passed between then and now.  We dated for 3 years, but he completely broke it off when I was in my senior year of high school.  Eddie died just a few years later and I think I have always known that I lost someone very important on that day.  My baby was born on his birthday, a fluke that should not have happened, but who can tell what the fates have planned for any of us?

 

As for Lynette, she has held my hand and I hers.  She has patiently listened to my stories of fear and upset and I Love her for always being willing to bear witness to my Life.  I hope she knows that I honor and treasure her - I think she does.

 

Life is odd and sometimes turbulent, but it's good to know that there are people who are your witnesses through it.  They can say 'I knew her when' and 'remember when you discovered you weren't quite so good or so bad as you thought?'  We don't come by those folks often.  If you're very lucky, you get to spend your days growing old with that person as lovers.  I wish I'd had that with Eddie, a chance to Live out what we might have been to one another.  So, perhaps I was not very lucky, but I am lucky none the less, to have a friend like Lynette. A friend to the end.

 

I hope your New Year's day was spent in the company of those you Love and who Love you in return.  May the year bring you more of every good thing than you could ever imagine with your mind.

 

Love to you all...