CNN recently aired a series of shows aimed at educating America about the black experience. The shows were well done and well, dare I say; heartwarming. They were interesting to watch and at times they imparted some useful information. The CNN series introduced us to many new faces, and causes, that have learned from the past. This brings me to the point of today’s blog.

What has black America learned from the lessons of the past? We reminisce a lot about the old days. We constantly talk about how bad it was, and is, for blacks in this country. If we do not learn, from the mistakes of the past, then we are doomed to repeating them. So, let’s reminisce for a minute.

Things remembered….the Brown Vs Board of Education ruling on May 17^th 1954? The decision stated that separate educational facilities for blacks and whites was inherently unequal. The ruling overturned the previous ruling in the Plessy V Ferguson case of 1896. The Brown V Board of Education ruling paved the way for the Civil Rights Movement. The ruling gave blacks the right to a free and better education. We should have learned, when we reminisce about this case, that education is an important tool for success. We should have learned to take advantage of the right to a good education.

Things forgotten…blacks lag behind their white counterparts in the educational arena today. Blacks are more likely to drop out of school than any other social class on the planet. Blacks, historically, do not pursue a higher education even though we fought like hell to obtain the right to do just that. We have forgotten what it was like to be an uneducated black living in white America. We fought, and died, to have a right that we don’t even take advantage of. We seem to have forgotten how important the right to a good education is.

Things remembered…the Tawana Brawley case of 1987 brought to light another fight in the legal arena. The case garnered nation-wide media attention because a 15-year-old black girl named Tawana Brawley accused six white men of rape. Some of those, who were accused, were police officers. The case racially divided the nation in the 1980’s and would pull in big names such as Al Sharpton, Bill Cosby, Elliot Spitzer and more. Blacks jumped to the defense of the young girl who became a symbol of, what we believed to be, the most vicious hate crime that any of us could remember. Black America jumped on the Tawana Brawley bandwagon without knowing why we were doing it, or where it was headed. We marched in the streets. We marched on Washington. We yelled racial injustice. We were wrong on all counts.

Things forgotten…flash forward to July of 2009 and the now infamous Gates arrest. We have, apparently, not learned anything from the mistakes of the past. We once again hopped on the bandwagon when an elite black professor was arrested outside of his home in Cambridge. Once again there was yelling. Once again we screamed racial injustice. Once again we were wrong. We scream and yell racism BEFORE we know the facts in a case. We seem to like playing the victim all the damn time.

We should have learned, from the Tawana Brawley case and the OJ Simpson case, and others, to keep our mouth shut until we know ALL THE FACTS surrounding the case. That damned bandwagon keeps shit going. The Gates case, like the others, were all cases where blacks failed to use common sense. They are all cases that made black America look ignorant, and stupid, in the eyes of white America. We should have learned from the mistakes of the past. We were so quick to cry foul that we even had the first black president yelling out stupid shit on national TV. He too, apparently, has forgotten the lessons of the past. Barack Obama was supposed to be the symbol of what is possible with change. He opened up his mouth and told all of America that, despite his entire campaign being won on the basis of change, that blacks will still use any incident to cry racism.

So, what have we learned? We reminisce all the time about the past, but have we learned from it? Black history is deeply rooted in the past, but we forget that the present is here and waiting for us to claim it if we would only be what we all scream and yell that we want to see. We talk about change. None has occurred. We talk about education, but we don’t attend school. We talk about a better life, but we don’t make a positive move toward the positive.

We talk about the fact that the image that America has, of blacks, is wrong. We say its wrong, but we continue to honor those people, images and deeds which say otherwise. If you seriously want to change the belief then you seriously change the behavior.

We are so much more than history tells us that we are. No one will take us seriously if we don’t take ourselves seriously. At what point do we, as blacks, say enough is enough and really mean it? At what point do we stop playing the race card and put the damn thing to rest? At what point do we stand on our own two feet, with the strength, wisdom and determination that our ancestors endowed us with, and forge a new destiny?

A legacy is the sum total of ones life. It is all the things that you have done, have learned and what you leave behind for those that come after you. A legacy is what is remembered by your friends, family and loved ones long after you have gone. What will be the legacy of black America?

If we do not change, as a people, then the only answer that most of us will give to that question is nothing. If nothing is learned then nothing is passed on. If nothing is what we leave behind for those that come after us, then nothing is what we will continue to be viewed as by others…

I’m all for wanting others to view blacks in a positive way, but what exactly have any of us learned from watching the special that Soledad O’Brien does? Have any of your pressing questions about black life been answered? Do you now view blacks differently than you did before?

As a black woman I wouldn’t know where to begin to tell you what it is like to be black in America. My experience does not even remotely mirror the experiences of others. So, what do I know about being black in America? Well, in this 4-part, “Ground-Breaking” blog series I am going to tell you exactly what I know about being black in America. I will however warn you ahead of time. For those of you, who like to let sleeping dogs lie, stop reading. For the rest of you who have wondered about all of it, and according to CNN your numbers are in the billions, read on.

Life is never what we imagine it will be. If we could write our own story, and live it out as we have written it, how different would yours be right now? We all, to some degree, wish that we could change something. Some of us would change small things like where we live, eye color, the kind of car that we drive, and how tall we are. When I was growing up I wanted to literally change everything including the color of my skin. I loved to read as a child. I read one, whose title accurately describes my journey through life. The book is called Alice Through the Looking Glass.

The book is a spin off of Alice in Wonderland, but it makes no direct references to it. Alice Through the Looking Glass was written by Lewis Carroll in 1871 and has been reprinted, and made into a movie, many times. The book, Alice Through the Looking Glass, is about Alice’s journey into a world that she sees mirrored through a glass.

My entire life has been spent looking through a glass of sorts. What I saw, mirrored in my glass, was not a reflection of what I wanted to experience. My glass mirrored those things that I was desperately trying to run from. You see, what I was desperately trying to avoid was being black… Why? Well, read on.

I ended up living the life that was mirrored in that damn glass despite my repeated, desperate, attempts to avoid it. I have come to learn that there are things that you simply cannot run from no matter how fast you are. I learned that your inner GPS will take you down roads that not even Alice, in her imaginary world, would travel.

As a black woman, I have found that it’s difficult for me to be proud to be black, because I honestly don’t know how to be. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about being a proud black woman, because I have no idea of what it means to be one. I wish that I had the knowledge that other black women have. I wish that I had the strength that other black women have. Damn being black in America, I just wish that I knew what it felt like to look in the mirror and smile back at the image that I see reflected there. Words can not express the depth of sadness that I feel, at my inability to know, and sense, the true essence of what it means to be black.

That inability is what prompted me to write my third novel titled Raising a Black-White Girl; Myths, Stereotypes, Fake BS, and Other Black Baggage due out in bookstores this fall. CNN is finding out that we all have a story to tell. We can all learn by listening to, and watching, how others live their lives. If we’re attentive, while we’re watching, then we can avoid making the same mistakes that they have made. If we’re not then we end up traveling down an already well-worn path littered with the footprints of all those who weren’t paying attention either.

The color of my skin, and the content of my character, have been a constant source of agitation for others. I was actually ok with both until someone pointed out to me that I shouldn’t be. The beef that others had with who I was, and what I should be, is only half the reason that I wrote this book. What transpired, after I realized that my blackness was being called into question, those that I met along the way, the ignorant black men that I have encountered, and society’s opinion about who I should be is the other half.

This blog, and its contents, will anger some. It is intended to do just that. This blog, and its contents at times, may appear to mirror your own life circumstances, the people that you know minus the ignorant black men, and the situations that you have found yourself in. It is intended to do just that. I found out, while being black in America, that I’ve been programmed to believe things that are not true. I found out that my prior beliefs, about black culture, were founded on rumors and a great deal of carried over hatred from as far back as the 1920′s.

I could literally hear the distant refrains of Eryka Badu’s Bag Lady playing quietly in the background as I wrote this blog. I found out that white people are not the enemy. I found out that the statement I want to be judged on the content of my character not the color of my skin has become purposefully redundant, because skin color is what blacks do judge white people on. I learned that blacks are not the only ones that get profiled. I also learned that my victim status card needs updating, and the date on my race card is no longer valid.

I realized that you’re not a damn Democrat, and Baptist, because you were born black. To believe, or think, that you are anything else is considered high treason in black society. I have never seen the man. I have no idea who they are, and I can’t sing worth a damn despite my color. We do not all look alike, and size really does matter.

I love Sugarland, not Suge Night, and men with gold and silver teeth actually scare the hell out of me. YES, it is an absolute fact that a black man can last past the two hour mark; without help. Yes, it’s probably weave but don’t ask or you’ll end up holding your own teeth. All blacks are not lazy. Some of us are just work challenged. A good black man, as far as I can tell, really is just another urban legend, but don’t tell the men on the TV One television show Black Men Revealed that. They actually believe the bullshit they’re spinning.

I know that as a black woman I hate it when white people come up to me, after tanning, and declare that they are as black as I am. It’s damn irritating and flat out racist. You will never be as black as I am. Warren Buffett couldn’t pay you enough money to go from white to black. I also know that I am NOT cool with anyone using the “N” word.

As with every blog that I write my hope is that you, the reader, see the mistakes that I have made. My hope is that you choose to have a better tomorrow after reading about all of my yesterdays past. So, sit back, relax, and anticipate my next posting as I take Ms. Badu’s advice and just let it go…

Source: www.eloquentbooks.com

The soul within seeks comfort and peace, and the story of a lifetime is now ready to be told in this, the haunting and compelling autobiography of author Jessica Angélique. Jessica grew up in the “brutal and horrific” foster care system in Evansville, Indiana. … Hey guys, a portion of the proceeds from the sales of my books ($70,000.00) a year goes to CASA in Vanderburgh County. Mark your calendars and come out to the book tour kick off at Barnes & Nobel on March 28th 2009 at 2:00p.m. CASA stands for (Court Appointed Special Advocate) and had I had a CASA as a foster child, I would not have experienced the level of torture and abuse that I did. Help me help save and improve the life of a foster child in state custody by buying my book and coming out to the signing on March 28th.

The soul within seeks comfort and peace, and the story of a lifetime is now ready to be told in this, the haunting and compelling autobiography of author Jessica Angélique. Jessica grew up in the “brutal and horrific” foster care system in Evansville, Indiana. The Road to Me; I Now Know Why That Caged Bird Sang details her shockingly unforgettable life story.

Her extraordinary fight to survive abuse, attempted suicide, ovarian cancer, obesity, attempted murder, homelessness, the betrayal of love lost and a deadly secret are just a few of the events that will forever change the person you are as you read this soul-defining journey.

This incredibly, poignant narrative is also about hope, redemption and triumph against undeniably impossible odds. The Road to Me; I Now Know Why That Caged Bird Sang allows the reader unprecedented access to the world of foster care and shows how the failing system destructively affects hundreds of thousands of children and adults in this country.

About the Author

Author Jessica Angélique resides in Indiana with her sons RJ and Freddy.

Published by Eloquent Books

Click on the book to purchase

Hard Cover

$24.50

ISBN: 978-1-60693-482-1
ISBN / SKU: 1-60693-482-1