The Bus

Why Is It So Dark On the Bus…

As the world wakes to this day January 21, 2013 we remember the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and we look forward to the second inauguration of President Barack Hussein Obama. It is a time of reflection and celebration for not only America but for African Americans, or is it. As I think on my personal struggles during my life time I am compelled like many folk to visit a past which I have no personal experience yet my life today has been shaped and molded by folk I have never met. It is critical for me to understand my growth and lack of by delving in the lives of those that walked before me. If I am to measure my worth as not only a woman but as a black woman, it is imperative that I fully understand the roots of my tree.

As I watch the news and read snippets of discourse, the tone in my local community is one of frustration, sadness and struggle. At first glance it would appear that the young men in my neighborhood are still plagued with violence and the women are still un-wed mothers engaged more in their appearance than in tuning into who they really are. The struggle is not with the laws; the struggle is not with time allotted to our young black men who have broken the law, the struggle is with “somebodyness”. The overarching issue of pain that runs so deep is the crux of the struggle to be “somebody”. Black folk need to be somebody, they/we need to be heard, and seen. How do we as a people become “somebody” worthy of recognition, deserving a better job, better living conditions and voice in today’s America? Perhaps the question that should follow or precipitate is how did we get from accepting our worth from the God who reigns to striving “by any means necessary” to obtain our validation from “the man”? How do we gain or do we need acknowledgement from folk who have no clue what it “feels” like to be black in America?

Upon our arrival to American in chains unlike any other race known to man we started...