I have attempted to write a blog on Black History for the last three years. Each blog was met with concerned objection by a few of my beta readers, and accountability partners. Apparently, like the cliché, my pen was mightier than the sword. They all agreed that what I wrote was fraught with disdain, and visceral condemnation. After looking at it from their point of view I decided not to post any of them. Mainly because I am a lover of all people, in spite of their shortcomings. This year I attempted to write another Black History blog. I scrubbed that one myself, because it was in the same grain as the three previous ones. Then it hit me what my fallacy was in writing a post about Black History.
We have been conditioned to equate the genesis of our history to the arrival of our ancestors in America. Some of us allow our minds to track back to the Cape Coast Castle, on the gold coast of West African. The castle that is historically known as the trading post, or The Door of No Return. It was there where our ancestors were first shackled and chained, and held captive until the ships arrived. We readily admit that our ancestors were the losers in a tribal war, and the punishment for that loss was being sold to European countries. We further acknowledge that the currency for their purchase was a barrel or two of rum. In addition, many of us are aware that not all of our ancestors were sold by their countrymen. A great number were kidnapped by Europe and America and shipped across the Atlantic. Those that were kidnapped were a part of the victorious tribes that sold their countrymen. Some call it ‘you reap what you sow’! Others call it ‘karma’! I’m not that cynical. I’ll just say how ironic that they found themselves in the same predicament as those they carelessly traded. They failed to recognize that the enslaver didn’t see any difference in their melanin enriched hue, or their ripped physiques. They failed to see that in European and American eyes all Africans were optimally equip for slaving in the noonday sun. Of course that was due to their selective misunderstanding of the Bible. But that’s another blog.

Over two hundred years later we cling to the fact that once our ancestors arrived they were denied the right to keep their African names. More often than not they were given surnames that identified who their enslavers were (i.e., Jackson (Jack’s son), Jefferson (Jeffer’s son), etc.) They were barred from using their native language and forced to learn and speak English. They were stripped of their right to marry, or to even maintain a family unit. Fathers were shipped off to one plantation while mothers were sold to another; and the children separated from both. After all, like the ox they were just chattel born to be whipped into submission by their superior enslavers aka Massa.
Since the 60s we’ve built up the courage to stand, march, and bend a knee, against our oppression. We’ve marched arm in arm, in lockstep and proclaimed, “We shall overcome!” We’ve raised our fists in the air as a symbol of “Black Power! I’m Black and I’m Proud!” We’ve submissively taken a knee as a demonstrative proclamation that “Black Lives Matter!” All at the consternation and reproach of those who besmirch our right to coexist equally and safely in America. Those who turn a blind eye to the fact that Blacks were systematically given freedom but not liberty!

I said all of the aforementioned because I realized that my prior blogs were steeped in vitriol. Like so many others I’ve viewed my people as victims of a systematic White America coup. Relegated from birth to be the oppressed underbelly, or a second class people. I took umbrage that my ancestors were reduced to possessions, like a head of cattle. The record of their births not recorded in any family bible, but in an inventory log book. I was incensed that my people had no human value, but was a commodity to be bartered at the swap meet on the 4th of July.

Yes, I was angry! Pissed to the nth degree! Especially when I see America is poised to return to the days of Jim Crow. The days where killing African Americans was acceptably celebrated. It is a clear consensus that we are moving back to a time where we were considered ‘nothing!’

I see clearly now, and know that that historical viewpoint is not true, nor has it ever been. It is nothing more than a snippet of our history. From this day forward I choose to celebrate the real Black history. I am not talking about our history just prior to losing a tribal war, because our footprint goes back much further than that!!

We have been taught that it was America that introduced us to Christianity. That’s nothing more than a fabricated systematic indoctrinated lie, a seed planted by the powers to be. The truth is, God designed us to be His peculiar people. After much deliberation and study, every truth-seeking religious scholar readily admits the human race started in African. That’s why Africa is called “The Motherland!” It was on that Continent where God stooped down, embraced the deep rich dark soil, and created His first ‘so’ loved man. Though often overlooked, and intentionally under-preached, the Bible records our esteemed ancestors as KINGS and QUEENS! AND MIGHTY WARRIORS! In fact, Africa was the pivotal region in the Old Testament. It is replete with stories set in the major metropolis of Egypt, Ethiopia, and other rich African countries. In the New Testament Africa became the refuge where Mary and Joseph hid Jesus from Herod’s decree. (I’ll just allow you to ponder that last sentence.) No I won’t! They hid Jesus in AFRICA!
For those who need further proof, here are a few Africans in the Bible that you can research for yourself:  Noah was the father of Ham.  Ham was the father of Cush, Miriam, Put and Canaan. (For the record all of them were dark like their father because of the region.)  Makeda was the Ethiopian Queen known as the Queen of Sheba.   Nefertiti was the African Queen of Egypt.  Candace was the queen of the ancient African Kingdom of Kush. (She was introduced to Christianity by an Ethiopian eunuch, as recorded in the gospel of Luke)  Nimrod was the first king in human history. Genesis 10:8-9 says, “And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a mighty one in the earth. He was a mighty hunter before the LORD.”  Sesostris II was the Pharaoh or King of Egypt and friend of Joseph’s.  Potiphar was an Egyptian official, and friend of Joseph’s.  Asenath was the Daughter of Potipherah Priest, and wife of Joseph.  Manasseh and Ephraim the sons of Joseph and Asenath.  Tirhakah – King of Ethiopia.  Tharbis was the daughter of the Ethiopian King, and the African (Cushite) wife of Moses.   Oh and according to Rabbinic literature, Nehemiah was a Kohen, aka a Ethiopian Jew.   Simon from Cyrene – carried Jesus’ cross.

The list goes on and on, and is worthy of more research. We need to remember that before God stooped down He declared, “Let us make men in our image and after OUR LIKENESS!” (Just let that marinate for a minute.)

So I say, by all means celebrate Black History. Continue to give homage to those that left their footprint in America, and paved the way for the next generations. Just don’t forget to remember where our history really started.

EJ Brock, Author
“A Spirit Mate Love Story and Paranormal Romance”
“A Sanctioned Mate Series”




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