February is Black History Month. As I try to speak over your applause, I realize that the normal Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass stories just won't do for me this time. I tend to be a realist, so I need to be able to draw a time line, a time line that I can relate to.
I will mention the race riot of 1921 in Tulsa Oklahoma that destroyed the Black Wall Street. But, that's it. It was a travesty with lives lost, businesses and homes destroyed, the usual holocaust that has been woven through the American fiber.
Now, I want to tell you what Black History Month really means to me.
I grew up in the 60s and 70s, in Detroit. Turbulent times but, these historical times were viewed through the eyes of a child and then a teenager.
In 1967 as a 6 year old I can remember living in Delray. Delray was in the southwest part of town, and pretty much away from the inner city. To some, Delray was like living in the country. But for me, I don't recall seeing looters, fires, and police. I recall seeing the National Guard drive huge, green army tanks down West Jefferson Avenue. These big green things were stationed down the street from my house at the Old Fort Wayne, a non-defunct military base.
The inner city, according to the news and, I guess that was the reason the helicopters were flying over our house, was burning. It seemed one person got mad, then a lot of other people got mad and started doing things to show how angry they were. Little did I know the reason for the anger and why black people were tearing things up those during dark days.
The rioters wanted a Black Mayor, a Black Police Chief and a Black City Council, because they felt that whites were discriminating against them, arresting blacks for no reason, and killing blacks just because they were black.
My grandfather warned my uncles not to go to that part of the city, as martial law had been imposed and there was a curfew intact.
I always had a curfew, as well as a short leash as to how far I could stray from our front yard. So, a curfew I was familiar with, but in my 6 year old mind, I figured everyone should have one.
Little did I know that the City of Detroit was making its mark in history, again. You see, we also had a riot in 1943. I guess this was how black people behaved when they got mad. (remember I was 6 years old at the time, and that was how I thought.)
The Detroit Black Panthers would rise to prominence during this terrible time in 1967, the many images of buildings on fire, guns raised and more have peppered this fine city's history more than once.
I remember the day when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, but not when Malcolm X met the same fate. It was a sad day when Dr. King died, the way my family grieved, I felt like I knew him. No one hardly mentioned Malcolm X dying at the hands of an assassin, probably because my family thought he was too radical.
Fast forward 40 years, and I am looking at a black man, Barack Obama make a serious run for the Presidency of the United States. Such an important historical time as this, that I find it difficult to believe sometimes. I can't believe that non-blacks are supporting this man in such great numbers.
But, what is more unbelievable, is that these people seem to be looking past his skin color and actually listening to his message. He is electrifying people the same way Dr.King did in the 60s. These Americans are hoping for a change. Are hoping that things will get better if Barack Obama is President of this great country.
My friends tell me they don't want him to win, because they are afraid that a man with ideas that are similar to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s will be assassinated just like the man many are comparing him to.
I hope they are wrong.
I do not want to tell my grandchildren that I lived through the death of hope twice in my lifetime.
I just hope my friends are wrong.
As Black History Month begins, it will end in a few weeks, and many of us won't really remember some of the accomplishments of great black people, however, none of us will forget 2008; the year a black man ran for President.
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