We are peculiar flowers, who have grown in familiar soiling. Nevertheless, we tended to its richness, for peculiar vegetation and fertilization. Time became our tool, and space was our palette. Movement, and the dispersion of our existence, were the silent, silkened arrays of fire, fueling our creativity. Our ability to use blackened energy in the cultivation of seeds across the United States of America. The perfect explanation for diversity and myriad cultures within Black America’s paradise.
We, the Black American Maidens, Mothers, and Old Crones, are the feminine and cultural birthers of these gardens. It is in our blood, where the stories and memories of our forefathers and foremothers, who toiled this land are housed. It is from our wombs, experiences, pains, labor, intellect, creativity, perseverance, determination, and jewels of Blackened sparkles, which birthed the magic of Blues, Country, Rock n’ Roll, Jazz, Ragtime, Gospel, Negro Spirituals, Hip Hop, and over 44 genres of musical expression-and still counting. It is from our cries, our joys, sorrows, and hopes, which created a nation, called the United States Of America. It is through our sacrifices, that has allowed the wonders of Black America, her treasures and riches, to exist. We, Black American women, are the feminine image of Black American gardens. Her soilings. Her story. No other foreign, feminine image can lay claim to her wombs, soiling, or vegetation. No other. And so, this leads to a very important point and understanding, concerning. . .Black American Her/History.
One of the most inhumane and painful atrocities to take place against Black America, was the “hardening” and symbolic removal of the feminine image. Painting our community and very existence as being void of femininity. Depicting Black American women as unfeminine, removed from the realm of femininity. Those attributes of gentility, nurture, docility, care, and sensitivity. One of the hidden, and often unspoken, violent tactics perpetuated against Black American maidens and mothers (with the exception of such being addressed in Black American feminists/womanists circles) were the myriad attempts to remove them from the protection, and rewards, of femininity. Treating their bodies as men. Speaking to them with harshness and brutal tones. Touching them in a way, that is akin to how you manage and tame farm animals and beasts of wild fields. Disregarding their natural need for love, the rearing of their own children, familial stability, healing, and holistic experiences of sexual intimacy. These very same perceptions, practices, and ideologies continue to persist today. And, they are just not only found in the United States of America.
Many movements are occuring in Black American women spaces and circles to re-claim their femininity. Dismantling those racist and sexist tactics of violence, which had been projected against them. Numerous attempts to sustain these systems of violence, by outside forces. Yet, Black America’s daughters, maidens, and mothers continued to defy violent attacks (be they physical, emotional, or psychological) against their womanhood and femininity. Even defying these systems, while being enslaved in the United States of America. Don’t ever think that they didn’t.
More than ever, it is very important for Black American Maidens, Mothers, and Wise women to protect their cultural gardens. Protecting their Black American gardens. Jealousy and envy are rampant against the gardens and maidens of Black America. Those, who are angry that we did not die. Filled with addictive rage, that in the midst of symbolically being “defeminized” from an outside perspective, we continued to birth culture and community. Two major attributes of femininity. Of womanhood. Our very existence, alone, proved that Black America has a feminine presence (and essence) of her own soiling. That Black America has a culture of womanhood. And, because of the her/history, the culture of womanhood is many, in her gardens. Her vegetation grew vastly within a short amount of time. Circumstances made it that way.
It goes all to say that the gardens aren’t cheap. For the sons and daughters of Black America’s gardens, that “US passport,” isn’t cheap. No amount of money can buy these gardens. No one else can be the feminine or masculine bodies of these gardens. The her/history, culture, and legacy has already been made. Which means that Black American women are the feminine and cultural images of Black America. Period. No other foreign and feminine image can lay claim to such vegetation of blackened sparkles, of magical birthing. None.
Unfortunately, another system of violence and erasure has been present in Black America for too long. That system consists of tactics to bring in non-Black American women, as a means to “replace” Black American maidens. Entering into these gardens without acknowledging the women, from which they come from. Using and benefiting from its riches, without giving back to Black America’s mothers and maidens. Even worse, entering with heirs of superiority, vanity, narcissism, and ego. Entering as if they have “defeated” Black American women in their own communities and gardens. One of those behaviors have included feeling “pride” in having “taken away” a Black American man from his female counterpart. Marrying these men and using them to gain access to the riches of Black America’s gardens. Exploiting the culture, without care to acknowledge the story and herstory, of whom it belongs to. For such Beings, Black America is simply a money-making hub; void of culture, humanity, and the essences of womanhood.
It means that more than ever, Black American maidens, mothers, and the elder women must claim, and re-claim, their place as the feminine and cultural image of Black America-her gardens and soiling. Seeing our femininity as more than landless spaces of blackness, only used to float for the empowerment and betterment of other cultures and communities. The violence and ravaging of our gardens has gone on for too long. And, the first effort of protecting our gardens starts off with, the name. The name of our people. A name that is practical, which can truly nourish and sustain our very existence. A name, which embodies the processes of our culture, and very essence as a people, for these given times (as we have always been a people, whose identity has transitioned into different terms for the existence of our very Being). Currently, in these given times, the name best suiting Negroes of US soiling is. . .Black American. In addition to identity, it highlights our process of being in these United States of America. It is the most practical. Which means through this term, Black American women are able to solidify their identity, and centralize their communities. In doing so, gaining access to resources in one’s community becomes easier and accessible. Using this identity on an international plane, if need be. Protection of one’s femininity and cultural existence, re-emerges. Which means the stress and frustrations plaguing way too many Black American women is dimenished.
At this point, Black America is in a critical era and state, concerning our existence. Her/history has shown that we are a people, who have transitioned with the times. Right now is one of those times. Because we are a people who returned to the rawness of Blackness, to sustain ourselves in a land, that was anti-Black, we are. . .Black American. Because we are a people, whose women retuned to the rawness of Blackness, channeling that into unknown territory, transforming the foreign in the familiar, we are Black American. Because we are a people whose women immersed in blackness, in order to spin musical and cultural gold, throughout different periods of time; using movement and time’s allure, in expansion of Black America’s gardens-we are Black American. And, we, daughters, mothers, maidens, wise women, and elder women, are the flowers of these gardens. We are the feminine energy, who toil the soils and birth the fruits of this garden. Therefore, it is we, who are owners of these gardens. We, like any culture of woman, should be the primary beneficiaries of our gardens. As we evolve from our fragmented state, it is vital that we see ourselves, as so. Our communities will not heal without this imperative task.
It is a liberating feeling to know that one is part of a garden. A garden, reflective of one’s own culture, feminine artistry, and existence. Having one’s femininity and aesthetics, celebrated as one of the different fruitions of womanhood on Earth. The feeling is euphoric, especially when you have not been given the consistencies of that celebration.
Daughters, mothers, maids, and elder women of Black America’s soiling,
Tend to your gardens, claim their perfumes, protection your vegetation, and. . . nourish, well.