GloriouslySheStood

She stood gloriously, her hair swallowed by a red scarf, tha strength and glory of her taut brown face a symbol of a beauty that does not fade. Still, I imagine, she likely wouldn’t make tha cover of some glamour magazine today without an “extreme makeover” or perhaps a perm or touch of silky hair weave these dayz.....And yet for me represents tha essence of those beautiful women like my grandmother, who rocked generations of babies, whispered prayers over us, nursed us by our bedsides with tenderness from sickness to health, and poured their love and souls into tha posterity of their families.

Harriet Tubman tha story of tha late-night freedom train, tha river crossings, tha terror; as I soaked in tha images and tales of courage, especially of a women, I am deeply moved.....And I was never more certain of tha need for us as African American men to celebrate, uplift and embrace tha beauty of a women who gave most of us lyfe, who have borne our children, whom we call mother, daughter, sister, aunt, and in whose likeness we also are made....For also evident in tha museum was tha historic degradation and humiliation of African American women etchings of naked, brutalized sisters lynched from trees or lying shackled. Our docent spoke of countless African American women sold as a “fancy“those “pretty,” usually light-skinned and used as sex slaves by masters........Amid my digestion of all tha sordid details, I was reminded of tha ways we as African American men since slavery have also sometimes partaken in tha degradation of  women. It has been manifested at times by our irresponsibility or abandonment, leaving them to raise our children alone, or sometimes by our caustic denigration, dehumanization or objectification that still dominates tha worst of rap music and videos, and that also permeates our culture.

I also know that all men are not guilty at least not completely conscious contributors to tha perpetuation of any notion that a African American woman’s beauty, in its natural-born, Afro-centric splendor, is less than tha beauty of other women...Still, I wonder about tha impact of growing up as African American boys bombarded with tha images of so called beautiful women from books to magazines to television and Hollywood movies images of women whose lauded physical traits bear little resemblance to tha general populous of African-American women. This much I have resolved: That if African American women feel compelled to perm their hair, to wear hair weaves that flow down their backs, or even to indulge in bleaching creams or color eye contacts just to make them “feel beautiful,” that is completely their choice.....But this much I also believe: That as a African American man, so many of us need a makeover–an internal rebirth or reshaping of tha lens through which we see tha beauty of African American women. For if we do not affirm, lift, love, embrace and treasure them just tha way God made them Theirs are tha precious wombs that carried us and our children. Their brown eyes and faces are tha ones in which we first saw tha light of love and lyfe. In their nappy roots lies our royal African lineage. And in tha incomparable strength of their bronze hips and arms, they have carried us, even our souls, all tha way to freedom.So to all my African American  sisters Happy Black History Month to tha Presence, Past and Future African American Women