A GRANDmotherless child...

I buried my great-grandmother this week. Just a day before she would have been 100 years old.

With that much living, there is much to learn from in listening to her stories, and that I did in the time I spent with her and talked with her over the years. With that much living, there is much she experienced, much she went through, endured, overcame and even propagated.

I buried my great-grandmother this week, and although she may have changed through the course of her living, much of what she literally ran away from did not. Poverty. Color-struck negroes. Family scandal. All of that was on front-street display this week in East Boogie.

For the record, I will probably never venture to East St. Louis again. Nor St. Louis again for that matter. "MY" familial ties to that area were buried with her. Not that I will miss it. East Boogie is depressing in the wintertime. St. Louis ain't much better.

I learned ALOT this week about family. My grandfather isn't exactly who I thought he was. Name changes were pretty prevalent back in the early part of the 20th century. Got his high school graduation program, his Navy dog tags, my uncle's first bible, and I read a passage from my great-grandmother's diary, dated January 1925:

"Women, don't be worrying about these sorry men,
they are just like paper bags full of wind."

81 years later, not much has changed, bleh....LMAO

Also found an illustrated guide to sex that belonged to her younger brother -- there is no date on it, but it's clearly pre-1945 when he passed. She also had a "sexology" book -- which I plan to comb through and find all the "dated" sexual health information. I am SO fascinated, truly!

Speaking of what HASN'T changed...It's fair to say my great-grandmother was a "firecracker" and in her older years she fell in and out with many a family member. Because of those broken ties, lots of us didn't personally know about the rest of us, but in her death lots of her nieces and nephews came around. It was the first time that we'd met and I learned that colorism is still alive and well, and it affects us all in different ways.

But I am most affected by how my mother reacts to it, even if it doesn't phase me. Her upbringing was much different than mine and to this day she carries a mindset that doesn't value the full beauty of her skin tone. Perhaps she heard more negative than positive comments regarding her skin growing up, I'm not sure, but I am sure that I saw the vestiges of colorism show up when the "high-yella" family members showed up to pay respects and met the "darkies" in the family. I won't say it was tense, but it was clearly awkward. My great-grandmother wasn't immune to the propagation of colorism. She thought my grandmother too "dark' for her son, my grandfather, and my aunt too "light" for her other son, my uncle, when they were young and just married. In the end she loved us all, and never passed an opportunity to tell us "how purty" we were LOL

It's unfortunate that colorism still affects us, as individuals, as a family, as a people. It's unfortunate that we still must play Negro Geography. It's unfortunate that I have been called bourgeoisie or "bougie" as it's known in "colored" circles *giggle* But with any good gathering of "coloreds" the game is played. Education and location are the usual starting volleys....and because of the journey my life has taken and my weariness with playing the came, I no longer answer with where I am from, but rather where I currenlty live. And then it takes on a whole 'notha life. The ATL....

Inevitably it comes up.

Him/Her/Other: So where are you from?

Me: I live in Atlanta....

Him/Her/Other: Oh you do? How do you like it? I Love Atlanta!

Me: You do, eh? Bleh!....(eyebrows raise) It's growing on me.

My internal debate is whether or not to buy in the town. I never intended to put down roots here; yes the siblings, niece and nephews are here, I've got a great church home, made some cool friends, and even though I have a j-o-b that I like, who is to say I'll stay there. It takes 10 YEARS to get vested. I NEVER have THAT kinda time...But the house hunting continues. Atlanta is still growing on me. We shall see. But I digress...

Never in my life have I been called "bougie" by so many folks men. I really don't know what that is all about. Never was I "bougie" in DC. Or was I? *giggle* And Howard just brings out all kinds of emotions from folks LMAO I am the sum of my experiences. I am me. Dark. Educated. "Bougie" and an assload of other statistical labels. Love me or leave me be.

When it came down to it, my great-grandmother had a similar philosophy; you could love her or leave her be. Hence all the falling out with her various family members. She could be difficult but she was loving and lovable. And although she never quite got the "African American" concept and preferred to call us "coloreds" she did overcome her colorism. I'd like to see that happen for the rest of "my" family.

Rest in peace, Grandma Odie....R.I.P












[Song of the day: "I Am Not My Hair" by India.Arie]