I remember house parties and soul train lines at my uncle and aunt Pat's house. The kids always stayed in the back room and got into mischief. On one of those party nights I heard my favorite song. I ran out of my cousins' bedroom to see what the adults were doing and to get in the mix as much as possible. I spotted an album cover on the floor. It was slanted against the speaker like an album had just been pulled from it. 'This must be the one playing now,' I thought and slowly made my way across the rug between dancing legs to get a better look.
'Wow!' I said to myself as I picked up the album to get a closer look at the man who sang my favorite song on the radio. 'He's so handsome.' Sitting on my knees I held the album in my hands and studied every detail. The man on the cover wore a black suit with a black bow tie and a white dress shirt. He had a dark round afro. Only a few people were still wearing afros at that time. His smile was bright and sparkled like his eyes. He struck a pose against a brick wall. The writing on the wall read, "Off The Wall."
"That's Michael Jackson," one of my older cousins said when she noticed me staring at the album. "You like his music?" she asked.
"Unhunh," I smiled. I was five.
Before Michael, Peaches and Herb caught my ears and heart with their song, "Reunited." I learned almost all the lyrics to the best of my abilities. At family bar-b-cues they got a kick out of hearing me, a four year old child, sing this love duet like I knew what it meant to be reunited with a loved one. As times changed, music changed and so did my family.
Family get-togethers slowly faded away. There were fewer house parties and bar-b-cues. Whereas we partied for no reason before, now we seemed to have less and less reasons to celebrate. Eventually the Christmas and Thanksgiving holidays lost their family gathering powers too. But one thing stayed the same my whole life, my relationship with my grandmother.
My grandmother took care of me. I lived with her off and on throughout my childhood. Especially as a baby. She was my saving grace.
Let's start from the beginning. I was born in Oakland California on March 16, 1974. This was the year that the first black model appeared in a mainstream fashion magazine. Beverly Johnson was on the cover of Vogue. It was also the year that President Nixon was forced to resign from office. I was born into The Black Panther Party. My mother worked days and nights to distribute the Black Panther Newspaper throughout Oakland. My father was the graphic artist who would later become famous for designing it. "I'm Black and I'm proud!" was a signature song of the times and a slogan I heard often repeated throughout my childhood.
Everyone had changed their names. My mother was now Asali. My aunt was Karani. My uncle became Baole. My grandmother became Mama Mausi. But she stopped using her new African name by the time I was old enough to call her by any name. She was always "grandma" to me.
We spent many days on her couch talking about life. She'd look out her window wistfully and remark that if the Panthers were still around, we wouldn't see so many boys just hanging on street corners because they'd be in the Party doing something.
Even when I didn't live with my grandmother I was always over at her house. She'd make me hot chocolate every morning; homemade pancakes or waffles on week-ends; cheese melted on tortillas after school; and she always gave me either a danish or watermelon for desert after dinner. When I became a vegetarian at thirteen, she made special tofu "meat" pies from scratch with gravy just for me.
My Personal History, like all of our personal histories, is full to the brim with stories. Some are happy, some sad. These histories and family constellations affect who we are and who we choose to be. This excerpt is a small example of one aspect of my personal history.
Assignment:
Step 1
*Write your own short personal history with a beginning, a middle and an end.
*Post it on your own blog and be sure to give me the address so that I can read it.
*If you do not have a blog, you may use our class blog or create one of your own.
Expectations:
*Write at least 3 paragraphs that include your childhood and cultural memories.
*Research a timeline from the year you were born (or another important year in your life) to include some interesting world events.
