I’m Black and an American, Darn It!

I absolutely love America. I was born and raised in North Carolina, a beautiful state where, like many places, racism still touches down from time to time. I was born poor, lived in government housing projects for most of my childhood, and saw and experienced many things. I desired a better life, and after finally realizing I was just as important as everyone else, I went after that life and have been pretty blessed. I wanted nothing to be handed to me. If I could not earn it, I didn’t want it, especially if it was offered because of my ethnicity. To accept would have been the beginning of my downfall. I determined that skin color or ethnic background would have nothing to do with the person I was, or the person I have become.

Which brings me to racial labeling.

So, I pose this question: Why is it that a black person is automatically labeled African-American? I mean, how did we come up with this deduction? Why is it assumed that my ancestors came from Africa? What if they were from Jamaica or the Bahamas or Fiji, or even South America for that matter? Or maybe they were blacks born in Greece or Scotland. Why are all blacks dumped into the same ancestral gene pool? Who died and made the powers-that-be “Kings of So-Called Political Correctness,” or rather “Political Incorrectness?”

My father’s grandmother was half-white, and my mother’s grandmother was a full-blooded Black-foot Indian. That would make me a mix-blooded American, wouldn’t it? But I’ll just settle for Black-American, or better yet, just plain old American, because that’s what I am. Do we ever hear white people called Dutch-American or French-American, or Egyptian-American? (Actually, the last one would be pretty funny:-) Even the Native Americans’ ancestors came from somewhere else. Almost everything we’ve been taught about history is questionable.

When we willing accept these supposedly politically correct labels which only serve to divide us rather unite us, we are basically saying, “The world knows me better than I know myself. The world knows what’s best for me.” And this is something I will never do. Fortunately my husband and I have taught our children this as well. They do not see color, they only see people. And if they ever come across a form that states they need to check an ethnic box, instead of choosing white or black, they choose ‘other’ or pencil in ‘mixed race.’ They make us proud.

So, to sum up this rant that could go on forever (and I do mean forever) let’s just dump all this political correctness garbage in the garbage because that is where it belongs. I am black, and I am an American! Do you hear this, people? I am an American! And I’m a nice one, too. Really, I am:-)
Have an awesome day, my fellow Americans!