On
a hot October day while driving on a road to Memphis Tennessee to visit my
father for his birthday, the year was 2011; during my drive I came across a
field of cotton where something in me compelled me to stop, I walk from my car
slowly but with determination, my destination was the cotton field. While
walking through the cotton field, I bent over to pull the cotton from the stalk,
the sun laid heavy on my head and the sweat rolled down my face almost
instantly, I felt the raw unprocessed cotton in my hands, the cotton pricked my
hands and my mind took me to a place unfamiliar to my natural life; this soon
became very familiar to me in the stories told to me by my grandfather. Memories
of a life not lead by me, but told to me by my ancestors, of a life traveled by
my relatives who actually lived in the past where things were just terrible for
black people. People who had the strength and courage to endure a life not fit
for man, but a life that granted me the life that I have now. Had it not been for the struggles in the
cotton fields of my past African American people, where would I have been, it’s
not one man that makes me, but many men and women that traveled that hard road
without reassurance or knowledge of where this road will take them or when this
hatred will end, that said; maybe it will be better for the people that will
follow me later in this life. It’s not just the cotton that was picked, it was
also the struggle that my people went through in the fields just too survive,
which lead me to the road I’m on today …and I’m grateful to my ancestors…and to
all those people known and unknown that fought for me and other African American
people to have a better future and life. In the cotton fields, myself, on that
particular day, gave me a since of the truth in the stories told to me by my
relatives about how bad things were for our people back in those times. I
believe that I was lead to this field as a reminder of the past by something
higher than me to help me realize that the things I have now are things that I’m
not only grateful for, but reminding me of how blessed that I am for not having
to go through those times and for the things that I now have access to. Even
though my struggle is not as bad as my past ancestors, I can still see by the
things that I’ve went through in my past, and how much times has not changed, I
know I’m still looked at as a second hand citizen. This cotton that I brought to
class is something I keep nearby as a constant reminder of the struggles in my
life today and the struggles of black people as a whole. My life has not been
easy by no means, it has been full of all types of racial setbacks, from white
people beating me with no police help when this is being done to me by a white
man, to firing me from their employment for no reason other than the fact that I
am a black man who continues to fight for what I believe in. I’m a strong
believer in God and what religion really means and stands for, as I deal with
the struggles in my life today handed to me feels like I am truly a child of
God. The cotton is the artifact that I use as a reminder of my history and all
the things I’m going through even today. My history is wrapped around love and happiness, and the belief that things
will be better for me in the future, either here on earth or in heaven where I
believe is my final destination.
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