Hello Friends and Family:
The following is based on past conversations that I had with our family’s Matriarch, “Mother.”
Mother, who passed away a little more than four years ago, was a very intelligent and educated woman who had some definite opinions.
You’ll learn more about Mother as the series unfolds.
You may not believe this but a long time ago a fortune teller told me I was gonna marry a White man.
She shole did!
Back then, I didn’t think too much about it.
At least not until I met my husband.
Baby, when I first saw him, that woman’s words came back and hit me like a ton of bricks!
Now, I know you haven’t met him but my husband looks like a White man.
I say that because his Mother’s parents were both mulattoes and his Daddy was fully White.
And, because of that, everybody in his family looks White!
I guess that’s why the fortune teller said what she said.
As for me, they say my people are part Indian.
Now I don’t know if that’s true.
All I know is that we have high cheekbones, reddish skin and thick hair so I can see why folks would say that.
But you know what?
Sometimes, I just sit back and laugh to myself because White folks around here don’t make no distinction about what color Negroes are.
They don’t really care about no dark skin-light skin.
To them, if you got one drop of Negro blood, you a Negro.
And that’s just all there is to it.
But it’s not as simple as it sounds.
It’s really very complicated.
Let me explain.
You see, my husband and I had 6 children.
Our first baby died.
Folks said she was too pretty to live.
But that didn’t make it no easier on us.
Anyway, we have three girls and two boys– and baby them children caught hell because of their looks.
Ooh Lord, you oughta heard the names people called ‘em!
Oh and I’m talking about grown folks too!
Them grown folks talked bad about my children just as much as other children did.
Chile, they said all kind of stuff:
“They think they better!”
“Them red niggas!”
“Them high yella niggas”
Umph…it makes me sick just thinking about it.
And what makes it so bad is that sometimes the Negroes was worse than the White folks.
Baby, my children heard it all!
I can’t tell you how many times they came home crying because somebody was picking on them about their hair or their skin color or their “White” Daddy.
They couldn’t help how they looked!
I can’t talk about it no more!
Let’s change the subject before I get too upset.
Anyway, I heard that my children and their children are working on a project about the family and I plan on helping them in any way I can so you might see me pop up every now and then.
I ‘spect, they’ll be going back through time to tell you a little bit more than I did.
Til next time, y’all take care.