“My” People
We African-Americans often refer to our peers as “my people”, a collective unit, a shared perspective and experience that only “my people” can understand. Yet, my positive experiences with “my people” have been few and far between. Our sense of community has diminished and has become more and more of a cliché-ish point of reference used to signify that we belong together in some form. I have had “friends” who openly use me; men how unapologetically abuse me; and family who fight consistently over not the most minuscule things… the love for one another has been lost. Although these situations do not apply to everyone in my life (I have some absolutely wonderful relationships that I cherish and invest in), this blog comes from a place of exhaustion and frustration of what I see is becoming the norm. We have become a selfish people – one that fails to care for the souls of our own folks. Yet, while I write out of frustrations, my heart has hope for the future. We must know that we are one. We are Africans. We are the original people. If only we knew where we came from. If only we truly understood the fight of our ancestors. If only we understood our power as a collective unit, we could show the world the kings and queens that we are. We could use our strengths to uplift our people instead of tearing them down. Until then, I’ll continue to try my best to show the love and compassion we all need… it’s the only way to heal a broken heart and a broken people…
”…And I could have freed more had more of them known they were slaves.” -Harriet Tubman
-Ashe
Cultured Soul 