February Is Slave History Month

slave-history-month-one

Yea though I stand humbly draped in chains,
I am allowed to celebrate slave history gains.
And since I shall die while serving my white master,
make a note that I worshipped at your feet, sweet Alabaster.

Make no mistake, I am grateful for no freedom
since oppression is what I’m used to as I head to God’s kingdom.
There, I will be judged by their god of outrageous lies
and found stunningly unfit by the lord of these flies.
So, please stand with me now as we thank our dear captors
for our place in history; all twenty-eight chapters.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2017 Shelby I. Courtland

As we are all aware by now, we are in the midst of celebrating Slave History Month and so without further ado, let the celebrations begin.

Those of us who had no choice but to be here since we did not immigrate but are here nevertheless thanks to our ancestors having been forcibly dragged here, take this opportunity to thank those who are the spawn of what dragged us here for giving us this month to celebrate that fact. It is quite apparent that those who wish us to thank them for this opportunity to stand before them in chains to this very day, are awaiting demonstrations of gratitude from us. We have not humbled ourselves in their kitchens, slave quarters, bathrooms, bedrooms and fields quite to their satisfaction for why else have they given us this month in which to thank them for their generosity; their thoughtfulness in dragging our ancestors from Africa to America? How can we let them know just how truly delighted we are to have twenty-eight chapters…I mean, twenty-eight days in which to celebrate our slave history?

And if you think you are not still a slave, why, Donald Trump just disabused you of that notion by in essence, speaking of Frederick Douglass as though he were still alive today.

Trump had this to say about Frederick Douglass. “Frederick Douglass is an example of someone who’s done an amazing job and is being recognized more and more, I noticed.”

Frederick Douglass, on behalf of Donald Trump, we wish to take this opportunity to thank you for your continued excellence in getting your point across as it pertains to “What to the slave is your fourth of July celebrations?‘ as you tour America today. Apparently, you did not die in 1895 since Trump is noticing that you are being recognized more and more wherever you go even though most of us are aware that you were born into slavery. It is good to know that you are still with us and even though you are still a slave, they have given you leeway to go on tour to promote your abolitionist views.

I hear tell that Harriet Tubman is being brought back to life in the form of her picture on the twenty dollar bill. What in the world is President Jackson saying about this? And I know he will not keep quiet about it. But then, we shall surely wait for Donald Trump to get around to enlightening us on that score. So many slaves still here with us today to celebrate Slave History Month and so let us thank them for their continued sacrifices on our behalf. For theirs has been an excruciatingly long and arduous struggle and we also have many Civil Rights icons that we want to thank as well; Rosa Parks, Fannie Lou Hamer, Bayard Rustin, Ralph Abernathy, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Ella Baker, Medgar Evers and so many, many more.

But today, as we celebrate Slave History Month, our celebrations are being upended thanks to The Donald’s Muslim ban and the cries for us to stand in solidarity with the Muslim community that never stood in solidarity with us; in fact, went out of its way to make sure that the ‘whites’ knew that we could not count on Muslim solidarity in our time of need. What group has ever stood in solidarity with us? Most certainly not the Muslims. And just so you know this to be true, here is a little excerpt that I took from a blog that I was reading earlier.

In the Fight Against Islamophobia, Solidarity with other Marginalized Groups is Key

when I sit around listening to aunties at parties giving pointers to each other on the best times to go to yoga classes so as to avoid black people. (Honestly, it’s a charitable interpretation of their language to even say they refer to black folks as people; most of the time they casually use the term kala, which literally means just “black” in Hindi/Urdu.)

Isn’t that nice? Black people are not even referred to as people, only as the ‘color’, Black, literally by the Muslims. You are less than a color to these Muslims. At least the ‘whites’ gave you the dubious distinction of being three-fifths human, but the Muslims don’t even give you that much. And so, you are going to stand somewhere in solidarity with some shits that don’t even see you as ‘human’? What does that say for them? Send their ass packing Donald Trump; each and every damn one of them. Send them packing!

And yes, we must be avoided at all times but because the Muslims are afraid for their very lives now, it has now been deemed appropriate to wake up and recognize that the ‘whites’ are now coming for them, so let’s get with the program that it would be to their benefit to get with ‘the color Black’ at yoga class because those  ‘Black colors’ have been marginalized since forever. The Muslim marginalization has just begun and they want to recognize the fact of ‘the ongoing color Black’ marginalization just NOW! Too goddamn late! Don’t let the door hit you on your ass on the way out of yoga class or on the way out of this country! Send them packing, Donald Trump! Send them packing! And if that isn’t bad enough, read this:

I knew my marginalization wasn’t unique every time I heard my classmates cycle through a seemingly endless repertoire of racist jokes on the schoolbus, about everything from the emo-Muslim who lets out angst by crashing planes to the Mexicans coming out of holes in their backyards to the eternal crowd favorite, “What do you call 3 black men on the moon? Three black men on the moon. What do you call 3 million? Problem solved!”
Just as horrifying as these jokes was the expectation that I would laugh at them too — since, hey, I’m not Mexican or black, so what business do I have being offended?

To take offense for the sake of people different from you is to begin to become invested in a politics deeper than your own individual hurt.

WOW! Hey slaves in America, you taking note of this? This newly marginalized Muslim here has been listening to these racist comments all her life but has chosen this time to dig up some hurt for you because now Muslims like herself are being targeted. So, this indeed is the case of “I did not speak up when first they came for the Blacks in my yoga class, I did not speak up when they told racist jokes about Black men, but now, I want these same ‘marginalized’ people to get with the program that we should now gather in a group hug and recognize that we need each other since I am now one of the ‘marginalized’.” Nope, not going to happen! If you were never in my corner…AND, you were NOT!!!, you are never going to be in my corner simply because the focus is not just solely on our ass anymore, but now they have dumped their collective hatred onto your ass! And even your various college degrees are not enough to save you from their hysterical hatred for Muslims from select countries who hold green cards or an H-1b visa. You see the one difference between us is I don’t hold a green card nor a visa because I was born here. Can you say the same? No, I didn’t think so because if you could, you wouldn’t be so put out about this Muslim ban, would you? They cannot put your sorry ass out of this country fast enough to suit me! Send them packing Donald Trump! Send them packing!

So, let us celebrate Slave History Month, my fellow slaves because we are on our own. There is no need for you to feel pressured to march through the streets with those who are afraid of some immigration ban because their fight is not your fight since your fight, they never bothered with or even thought about since it did not seem as though the ‘whites’ would ever pick a fight with them. No, celebrate your Slave History Month for what it is worth and tell those who would stand in solidarity with you now that karma is a bitch! Send them packing Donald Trump! Send them packing!

A Black Rose In Bloom!

black-roses-in-bloom-one

Too dark, but yet, always seen
at each and every crime scene.
Whether you stand for peace or not,
whatever you do, it is all for naught.

You can be Dr. King with a dream
or Malcolm X with a Black power scream.
But either way, you’ll end up dead;
no life in you; just a tombstone at your head.

You can be a doctor walking home from work
and be shot because in that neighborhood, you should not lurk.
You go to school because you want an education,
but they peg you instead for incarceration.

They gave you a month to celebrate achievements
for all the assassinations, funerals and bereavements.
You are sent to their doctors to receive a cure
and told you’ve got bad blood; it just ain’t pure.

They say, “Vaccinate your children against this disease,”
while they fill you with lead paint; those who are your enemies.
Never look to the ones with no melanin in their skin
and expect to come out on top, or to win.

Their desire is not that you should ever thrive
but for all they do to you, you still manage to survive.
So, fear not that Trump will be the harbinger of your doom
for he too is powerless to stop a Black rose in bloom!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2017 Shelby I. Courtland

I wrote this because as we all know, we just finished ‘celebrating’ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day and for all that has been going down, I don’t even know why. For surely he could never have perceived in his wildest ‘dreams’ that we would be where we are now, but then again, he most likely would not be surprised since it is widely known that he was about to change his stance from one of peaceful to aggressive because peaceful just wasn’t getting it done. And us Black folk had better go about things all peaceful like, if we are to go about at all. Otherwise, it’s a coffin for us.

And yet, they set aside a day in remembrance of a man they killed because he finally figured out what most of us know and that is that the white man is not going to give up his ‘white privilege’ that he has decreed unto himself; not without a fight. Malcolm X knew this and that is why he was called a ‘radical’ and assassinated. We need more like him but all we have is the likes of Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton who are nothing more than sell-out dogs begging for the white man’s table scraps. They do not represent us. They are only out for themselves.

So, as we approach Black History Month that the whites have so graciously given to us to celebrate all their achievements of shooting, lynching or sickening us and our loved ones, we must remember to thank them for their generosity in giving us the month of February to be used as one short month of bereavement over the fact of mass incarceration, assassinations, lynching, gentrification, income inequality, low educational attainment, a school-to-prison pipeline,  mass homelessness, indifferent health care, eugenics experimentation and we must also thank them for allowing us to continue to play subservient roles that entail cleaning, cooking and other domestic type duties that we crawled into boats to come over here alongside all the other ‘immigrants’ to do. With friends like these, we don’t need enemies and yet, despite all of this, the Black rose still blooms! May it forever bloom in spite of and despite ‘them’!

I Didn’t Boycott The Oscars At All!

The 85th Academy Awards® will air live on Oscar® Sunday, February 24, 2013.

I am living proof of Negro history.
I live it each and every day.
The white man thinks he’s doing me a favor
by telling me to celebrate my history, HIS way!

I don’t live and breathe for the white man.
Nor will I let him control who I am.
I won’t go to him for any ole awards
because for his accolades, I don’t give a damn.

I didn’t boycott the Oscars at all.
Why the hell should I even care?
I know where the fuck I stand.
Why would I sit in front of a box and stare?

Oh I hear how Chris Rock told some jokes.
And Tracy Morgan played the fool in a skit.
But what is really so funny in the end
is that this was all just some Black History shit!

And so we end this Black History at The Oscars
 with Al Sharpton protesting out back
and Melissa Harris-Perry, what can I say?
Either she quit or she got the fucking sack.

I guess ‘Twelve Years A Slave’ got no sequel.
And ‘The Butler’ dropped Massa’s rum punch.
‘The Help’ ain’t here to pick up the pieces
of the Black Hollywood Brady Bunch!

So, pick your ‘coon’ part and play it to the hilt.
Sell some tickets and be thankful for your job.
You don’t need an award from the white man,
just an adoring theater going mob.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

Go ask Niggers With Attitude(N.W.A.), they’ll tell ya! Straight Outta Compton grossed 201.6 million, so where are the awards and I know Negroes flocked to that movie like flies on shit?

You fucking know the score. Deal with it or don’t! But just shut the fuck up because the white man don’t give a shit about your boycotts when you’ve already paid the price for his movie tickets. And when Massa decides to make another movie about some white folks needing some maid and butler services, be sure to head on inside a movie theater, pay for your ticket and watch your life play out in front of you. When Massa decides to hire some Negroes to play ‘400 Years A Slave’, there ya go! Head on back in and watch YOUR role in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade play out, but don’t expect no goddamn Oscar for that shit. Hell! Anybody can scream, moan, wring their hands and gnash their teeth while getting their fucking back lashed! Maybe they’ll make a ‘White Chicks II’ starring some more Black-assed motherfuckers all got up in ‘white’ face and they’ll finally win an Oscar for that shit! But….uh…don’t hold yer breath!

Meanwhile, ‘The Hood’ burns! And guess who stars in that shit???!!!!!! Yeah! Our children!!! You dumbass motherfuckers don’t even know what’s goddamn important and some goddamn awards ain’t fucking important!!!!!!!!!!

Repeating The Past Will Not Change A Thing!

repeating the past

Repeating the past will not change a thing.
Printing more signs and marching won’t bring
the dead back to life or make Black people free.
And your spiritual songs make a mockery
of a past you don’t know but fail to seek.
You believe what you’re told; how obligingly meek!

And as long as you remain right where you are,
on your forehead, they will brand a gold star
Such fools are we to listen to lies
 and continue on as though we aren’t despised.

Juneteenth, we celebrate and for what, I don’t know
because from where I sit, this is a Minstrel show.
You strut on the stage and expect an award.
You run with a ball and think you are adored.

But drive down the street and go the wrong way
and your ass will find out that whitey don’t play.
So bow to the slavers that still own you today,
 for they and their god, you choose to obey.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

And of course, lest I forget, Happy ‘Black’ History Month! Let the celebration begin!

 

Black History

Black History Month

Dragged from your native land,
on a floating barge of death;
you built paradise for a thief
who then plundered all the wealth.

Your name was not your own.
You would never again be free.
To know such hate from them,
as they hang you from a tree.

They say that slavery’s over.
Go forth and earn your keep.
And though you labor long,
you’re valued much too cheap.

You were denied so many rights.
And the vote was not for you.
Though many marched and died,
the court bid that adieu.

Some think you’ve made great strides
in the face of all that’s wrong.
Yet they herd you into prison,
because they hate that you are strong.

Be wary of their smiles,
for they mean you so much harm.
If you’ve a talent, they’ll exploit it.
All over you, they’ll swarm.

They’ll use you and then kill you.
You’re nothing but a thing,
and when your candle’s burned
you’ll feel ole Massa’s sting.

Don’t ever let your guard down,
and it doesn’t pay to trust.
Shield from them any weakness.
Always show them your disgust.

Black history holds no fame.
And it certainly gets no cheer.
Times have never changed.
They still look at you and jeer!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2014 Shelby I. Courtland

Although this one is pretty much self-explanatory, I will just add that though there are a few, and I do mean few stories about progress that some Negroes have made, the fact remains that this is no time to be celebrating because the majority of us are fucked up and just a glance around will make that fact, quite obvious.

I was pretty much torn over what to post about this month and I see no reason to attempt to put together some feel good shit because nothing ‘feels’ good to me, not at all. Too much nasty shit has gone down and the murder of Freddie Gray, Tamir Rice, Renisha McBride, Aiyana Jones, Sandra Bland, Walter Scott, John Crawford, Eric Garner, Michael Brown and there are so many others are still too raw for me, emotionally speaking, to post any uplifting stories about Negro history during what the ‘whites’ have designated, “Black History Month.”

I will leave it up to others to showcase the ‘feel good’ shit of Negro history and if any inspiration should strike me, you’ll be the second to know.

Have We Broken The Chains Of Slavery?

break the chain

Have we broken the chains of slavery?
And before you answer, “Yes!”
Just take a look around.
Give me your wildest guess.

Our children can’t play in parks.
They are shot for being Black.
Black women are hanged in jail,
and the unemployment office is packed.

The homeless on the street
are there because they are poor.
Gentrification took their homes
and shoved them out the door.

The Blacks in Hollywood
are never recognized.
No gains have been made.
Now, can this be denied?

Try and convince yourself
that we have made progress.
And then take your blinders off
 because Black America is a mess!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

Since Black History Month is so goddamn short, I thought I’d get an early start.

Now, I would try and post something on Black History Month each and everyday, but y’all know the story. Since I am Black, then that means that I am more than likely caught up in some legal issues and that is why I will most likely not be able to post each day because it shall be necessary for me to tend to my legal issues. And no, I have not robbed the liquor store, burned down a CVS or mugged an old white lady, I am involved in a civil matter that DRUM ROLL PLEASE!!!, quite actually was initiated by the criminal act of a ‘white’ woman. Yeah, I know, who would’ve thought! But be that as it may, let me set the record straight. I don’t give a good goddamn about the fact that the mainstream media portrays Black people as the initiator of crimes far and above that of whites when nothing could be further from the truth. The truth of the matter is that white folks don’t get caught up in the legal system or court system because who controls ‘THE SYSTEM’? Exactly! White filth does! So what white filth is going to charge other white filth with a crime? Just ask Mr. ‘Affluenza’ himself, Ethan Couch.

It was a case that captivated the nation, prompting a discussion about wealth and power: A white teenager from a well-off family killed four people in a Texas suburb in June 2013 while driving drunk. At trial, a judge gave the teenager probation after a witness testified that he had suffered from too much privilege — an affliction the witness called “affluenza.”

But since I have a penchant for digressing and getting sidetracked, February, the shortest month of the year, has been designated as Black History Month. Thank you! Thank you white folks! How very ‘white’ of you to do this for us poor Black folks that you continue to fuck up to this very day but at least I get a month set aside, ‘thanks’ to your thoughtfulness, to showcase the gains that have been made by Blacks in this shithole called, AmeriKKKa. And white folks know that there ain’t gonna be any gains, hence the designation of February as Black History Month!

And yes, the gains are embarrassingly few. So without further ado, I shall get started. As of today, January 30th, 2016, Black people have gained uh…..let me think….uh….hmmmm…oh yes, the right to vote. The right to vote for one bigoted asshole after another and as if that wasn’t bad enough, the whites had us thinking that we were voting for a Black man, Barack Obama and he turned out to be just another worthless ass white motherfucker all got up in Black face.

Now, for gain number two. Hold on, I’m thinking. I got it! I got it! Even though this is not occurring here in AmeriKKKa, the shit in Great Britain spawned the vile shits that sailed to AmeriKKKa and Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, was born in AmeriKKKa. The British are making a TV series about Michael Jackson, Elizabeth Taylor and Marlon Brando and of course, this will give another out-of-work Black actor, a job playing the role of Michael Jackson. The half-hour comedy “Elizabeth, Michael & Marlon,” centers around a fabled road trip in which Jackson, Elizabeth Taylor and Marlon Brando tried to get home to Los Angeles from New York after the September 11 terrorist attacks.

Joseph Fiennes’ casting as Michael Jackson in a British TV production, is WHITE!

Stop the goddamn presses! What the fuck!! A white motherfucker is going to play Michael, ‘had an Afro at one point in time’ Jackson???!!!!!

Here ends the ‘gains’ of Blacks in ‘white’ AmeriKKKa! Now let me step outside and spontaneously fucking combust AND have my head blast off into deep goddamn space! If that ain’t beyond the end of enough! Goddamn motherfucking jacked up shit, is what it is! But we gone celebrate Black History Month! Get the fuck outta here with that bullshit!!!!

I Must Teach My Children!

black history1

I was not there to march from Selma to Montgomery.
No ‘colored only’ entrance sign do I see.
I never once sat at the back of the bus.
And no one has set the dogs on me.

Never was a cross burned in my front yard.
When did I ever see a lynching take place?
Why is it that I can walk in any door,
and believe that there is only the human race?

I sit here with tears welling up in my eyes.
Why do I cry when I had to read about Jim Crow?
I cry because of those who paid my dues for me,
so that what they knew, I should never know.

What must I do in memory of them?
How can I show them how thankful I am?
I must teach my children of their sacrifice.
And never let them forget every sacrificial lamb.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

Because of all who went before me, I have benefitted from their sacrifice. I rant and rave at all of the injustices that remain to this very day. But what I need to do is to acknowledge that if it were not for those who stood like a wall, if it were not for those who refused to back down, if it were not for those who wanted their children to never go through what they had to, if it were not for those who went to jail so that I could vote, if it were not for those who refused to accept separate but equal when it was not, if it were not for those who boycotted the buses, if it were not for those that gave their life, I would not be where I am today. And even though they are no longer here to read this or to hear me, I thank them! I thank them, one and all!

We must never forget them and we must continue their legacy. Teach the children about them. May these sacrificial lambs never pass into obscurity and fade into the dusty annals of a long forgotten history.

Black Is The Color Of My Skin!

black couple

Black is not the color of evil,
nor is it the depths of despair.
Black is the color of my skin.
No other color would I want to wear.

Black is not the color of hate,
nor is it a victim of your guilt.
Black is the color of my skin,
and the foundation upon which everything was built.

Black is not the color of racism,
nor is it a burden that I bear.
Black is the color of my skin,
and the color of my beautiful curly hair.

Black is not a color you give to me,
nor is it the one I let you choose.
Black is the color of my skin,
and it comes in so many different hues.

Black is not a color that fades away,
nor will it let you strike it down.
Black is the color of my skin,
from ebony all the way to brown.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

Black Folks, We Are Fucking Doomed…..!

angels and jesus

 

 

….because we don’t have the face of an angel. Every goddamn time we look around, an angel is depicted as being a sweet little innocent white child all dressed up in white and with red rouge painted on the cheeks or is that Cupid? Regardless! Because even if it is Cupid, the little white cherub that shoots an arrow into your heart, Cupid is white and white is good, white is kind, white is benevolent, white is what you as Black people can never aspire to. Forget about it! Get your Black ass out of the way because you don’t have that angelic look; the look that whites have.

When next you are in church praying to a ‘white’ god, look up at the picture of Jesus Christ. He is white. How the hell could a Black man be depicted as Jesus? Everybody knows that Black people are the very spawn of the devil. I am all up in the fucking church today, preaching it! All of you Black heathens look to the ‘white Jesus’ to save you. Look to GOD who of course is also white and we know this because of all the white folks that have died, temporarily, saw a tunnel, some lights and a white man at the end of it telling them to “Go back, you have much more killing of the evil Black people to do! Now don your blue uniform with the badge and hop to it. Don that white robe with the eye slits and hop to it. Shave your white ass head and hop to it! Fuck them no-account niggaz up!” As you can see, weze unedumacated as it is. So what the hell good are we? We ain’t no goddamn good! Whites done spouted that shit out often enough.

I am always going on and on about how people should become aware of how much they matter and that people are a star in their own right, but what the fuck do I know? Quite obviously, not a goddamn thing because I too, am pissing in the goddamn wind and I don’t fucking like the taste of piss, not even my own; champagne drenched that it is. Oh that’s right! How dare I drink champagne. That’s a drink for the whites to use to toast at some prestigious affair that raised money to feed the homeless and we all know that Black families are seven times more likely to be homeless and that Blacks make up half of the U.S. homeless population. Thank you white folks,! How extremely white of you to do that especially since you own every goddamn thing anyway thanks in part to the history of this shithole called America where your ancestors slithered over here and stole land, enslaved Black people and now, you’re throwing a benefit to help those poor Blacks who never could own a goddamn thing seeing as how we was owned. But we get the blame for that by the ever so nice whites, smiling at us and patting us on our fucking nappy ass head because it’s such a shame that Black people have such rough and kinky hair. “Oh Belinda White, did you feel that child’s hair? What in the world? My stars. No wonder they’re considered three-fifths human! We got that one right!”

Yeah! So, let me sit back here behind the dumpster with my nappy ass hair and scratch myself because all Black folks are nasty and we stink! And now, I am going to open up this here Colt 45 Malt liquor and take a good long swig because that is what I do. I lounge around and drink all day and then I go down to the welfare office and fill out forms and start at the beginning of when I took my first shit so that they can hand me some free food stamps and then I promptly take those free food stamps and I sell ’em and I buy myself another Colt 45 malt liquor. I just love being drunk and stinky and to get free stuff that the good old angelic whites never berate me for. Seriously? How fucking useless can I get? Since I can’t be white and angelic and godlike and sainted and good and clean and kind because we all know that’s why white folks are here; to fucking be all of that and so much more that’s right as rain.

Black folks we are doomed and we doomed ourselves because we ain’t angelic looking. We’ve got to be white for that to happen and don’t even bother with that skin lightening shit because you’ve got to be born with their kind of white, it doesn’t come out of a bottle. Come on over here with me Black folks and I’ll hand you some malt liquor. What else are we good for, eh? So, here’s to taking the edge off. Because when you can’t BE ’em, don’t fuck ’em!  Just fucking forget ’em!

Now have a  good goddamn Happy Black History Month! Bottoms up!

 

 

First Edition: The Unedited True Edition of Black History

 

blackandwhite

Introduction: First of all, forget everything that you have never read in the non-existent history books about Black History as this book will replace no books on Black History.

 

One day, while sailing the oceans blue, pale skinned creatures happened upon the shores of a most beautiful land, filled with the beautiful dark ones. The beautiful dark ones were prized for their obvious beauty, gracefulness and strength since the pale skinned creatures hid behind giant lions while watching the beautiful dark ones as they ran and jumped and danced and stomped. Once the lions moved gracefully aside and the pale skinned creatures were no longer hidden from the view of the beautiful dark ones, the beautiful dark ones were very much afraid as they had never seen such pale skins before. They were overcome with awe and wonder and so they immediately ceased their dances and jumps and timidly walked over to touch the golden locks of the pale skins.

 

And as the two began to get to know one another over the tea and crumpets that the pale skinned creatures provided, it was like they had been waiting on meeting one another for ages. The tribal dialects of the beautiful dark ones were much like the forked tongued speech of the pale creatures and so communication between the two was possible. The pale skins communicated to the beautiful dark ones their need to acquaint them with their god and for the desire of the pale skins to see that the beautiful dark ones were accepted into heaven as perceived by the pale ones. This was met with approval from the beautiful dark ones and a church was soon erected and a sermon was preached whereupon, the beautiful dark ones immediately began to light a bonfire, gather around it and chant in some mysterious and strange tongue. The pale skins quickly made it known to the beautiful dark ones that this was not acceptable behavior as their god did not approve of such conduct. The beautiful dark ones felt that they were being admonished and graciously asked the pale skins to leave their land whereupon the pale skins threw themselves at the feet of the beautiful dark ones and begged them to come with them to a place of even greater beauty where the sun shines both day and night upon fields of amber grain waving in the breeze as far as the eye can see and where mountains of majestic proportions beckon and summon one to scale lofty heights and to then descend down to fruited plains; this land was called, America!

 

The pale skins told the beautiful dark ones that they would live in the finest homes, eat and drink from containers made of delicate bone china and crystal and then they would gaze upon the savior that came to earth to save all souls from eternal damnation and forever live in mansions in the sky and that there would be no need for witch doctors as medicine was free for all in this land of opportunity and that there were other dark skinned people there that would welcome them with open arms just as they too had welcomed the pale ones. “Why not come to this new and wonderful and different paradise?” the pale ones asked. “Why not board our ships that are equipped with every luxury imaginable for your pleasure? Tables adorned with fine cloth await you, heaped with the choicest meats and fruits and other delicacies too deliciously tempting to be denied.”

 

This was met with much enthusiasm by the beautiful dark ones as they talked amongst themselves and thought to only go for a visit as they knew that they would one day miss their home and wish to return and so they boarded the beautiful vessels and they sat at the fine tables covered in rich cloth and ate the freshest meats and swam in pools shaped like sea shells. The pale ones waited on the beautiful dark ones, hand and foot; seeing to their every need and making sure that they lacked for nothing. Many months passed and finally, the lookout called, “Land ho!” There was much rejoicing for the long voyage was over and the beautiful dark ones were glad to finally find solid ground beneath their feet once again and to see this glorious new land that the pale ones had spoken so glowingly of.

 

As the ship docked, the pale ones escorted the beautiful dark ones to shore and then a strange thing occurred, the pale ones disrobed and begged the beautiful dark ones to inspect them for blemishes and flaws, bad teeth and bunions. The beautiful dark ones were bewildered. They had no clue as to what to look for as they did not know what would be expected of the pale ones. The pale ones then explained to the beautiful dark ones that they needed them to help, temporarily, with their plantations which they described as virtual cities that sustained themselves by making and planting everything that was needed for the people to live on. The pale ones beseeched the beautiful dark ones to inspect them so that those of the pale skin that were more highly valued because of their flawlessness could toil alongside the beautiful dark ones for they were truly wondrous and flawless in beauty; a joy to behold.

 

And so it goes, the pale ones labored alongside the beautiful dark ones in perfect harmony with one another. At the end of each day’s nine to five shift, both the pales ones and the beautiful dark ones would sit on the porch and laugh and share punch and joke about the heat and the flies and watch the crops that they had planted together, grow. They all got along beautifully with nary a harsh word uttered between the two, nor was there ever a fight amongst them. And when the beautiful dark ones decided that it was time to go back from whence they came, ocean liners were put at their disposal to return them to their native land and as they disembarked, they were welcomed back into the bosom of their loving family and everyone lived happily ever after.

 

The End.

 

I am so glad that I stumbled across this edition of Black History because now I realize that things were not as bad as what I had not read in earlier history books that did not include Black History in them. I was under the mistaken impression that African chiefs had sold other tribes’ slaves into bondage to the whites. I was not told how the whites came to be in Africa in the first place, I just took history’s non-word for it that the whites had a legitimate and humanitarian reason for being in Africa. So, it does my heart good to get the real reality and truth as to how Black people came to be in America, but when I look around today, I am unable to see how if we once got along so well, we can’t seem to get back to that. Hmmm…. Something else to ponder, I guess. Oh well, history is not supposed to be perfect, just true!

 

And as you can see, I so love the truth!!!