Watch Night and Freedom's Eve

It's New Year's Eve. Around the world people will celebrate the end of the current year and welcome the next. In the United States there will be parties and fireworks. People will be in clubs and bars dancing to DJ's and live music and getting drunk on champagne and other libations. Not all of us will be partying. Some will stay at home and spend a quiet evening with loved ones. Some will be spending their time honoring a holiday that most people are completely unaware of. These people will be quietly spending their time in church in honor of Watch Night and Freedom's Eve.

Just about all Americans celebrate the 4th of July as a day of independence and freedom. When one knows the facts about American history one knows that it is a holiday that rings hollow for black people. On July 5th, 1776, black people in the newly declared, free United States of America, were still in bondage as slaves, as chattel, without rights or representation. At the advent of the American Revolution black slaves wanted to fight for the cause of freedom. They assumed that the new paradigm of freedom and independence would apply to them also.

As we know well today, that was not the case. George Washington, the leader of the revolutionary forces, forbade slaves in Virginia from participating in the war as did every other state in the South except Maryland. It is not surprising given the large number of slaves he inherited by marriage was the primary source of his high standing. He and other revolutionaries like Thomas Jefferson built their wealth and reputation on the ownership of slaves. It wasn't something that just happened naturally, it was a conscious decision. It was debated among the revolutionary leadership and it was decided that slave labor would be vital to a fledgling nation trying to compete with established empires like England, Spain, and France, on the international agricultural markets. Even so, free black men from the Northern states enlisted in the army to fight for the cause of the revolution. Initially there was resistance from Congress but that resistance softened when there was a need to replenish the number of troops once the war began.

It was actually England that offered black slaves the opportunity to be free during the American Revolution. Freedom was offered to any slave who would escape their bondage and fight for the British against the American revolutionaries. It was not a sincere offer. After the British army was defeated at the deciding battle in Yorktown in 1781 the British forces brought all of their tens of thousands of escaped black slaves to the island of Manhattan to be reclaimed by their owners. The war so severely depleted the number of slaves in the Southern states that importation of slaves from Africa, that had been banned before the war, was began again in earnest.

It would be 86 years before black people gained their freedom. As they did in the American Revolutionary War, black people were eager to join the fight in the Civil War. President Lincoln, as Washington was before him, was reluctant to allow black men to fight in the war. After all, the war was not about slavery, it was about preserving the Union. It was the North that declared war on the South when the Southern states formed an independent government and elected Jefferson Davis as their president. As it was in the American Revolutionary War, black men were allowed to fight when the Northern forces became depleted and were at risk of losing the war. On September 22, 1862 Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation, effectively freeing all slaves in the southern states except the state of Texas. Though signed in September 1862, the executive order would not become law until January 1, 1863. On the December 31, 1862, black southerners congregated in churches and other black meeting places to await the midnight hour when they would become free people in the democratic republic of the United States. This night would come to be known as Freedom's Eve.

It was not new for black people to gather on the eve of December 31st. This night was already known as Watch Night. During this period of the United States, January 1st was the day when all debts from the previous year had to be settled. The selling off of slaves was often used as a way to pay off debt. The selling of slaves often involved the breaking up of slave families so the slaves gathered together to celebrate and watch over each other, because for many it would be the last night spent with family and loved ones. Watch Night was originally a ritual of the Methodists which held a Watch Night each month when there was a full moon. The significance of Watch Night was a vigil to God, to be prepared to "meet your maker". As stated in 13th chapter of Mark, Watch ye therefore, for ye know not when the master of the house cometh. Black slaves adopted this, as they did with many Christian rituals, to their particular ways of worship.

When you get right down to the hard, cold facts, for African Americans it is not July 4th, 1776, we should celebrate for freedom. It is January 1, 1863, that it is the true day of our freedom. I know it is for me. My father is from New Orleans, Louisiana and my mother is from Birmingham, Alabama. I am a direct descendant of people who were slaves and practiced Watch Night and waited with the great anxiety on the night of December 31, 1862. From here on, every year on this night, I will celebrate the coming of the New Year, Watch Night, and Freedom's Eve.

The Other Side

If life is an illusion, then so is death-the greatest of all illusions. If life must not be taken too seriously-then neither must death.

Samuel Butler

Death has to be the very first ever human obsession. In the beginning, humans did not obsess over life. Before we were rulers of the world and held dominion over Mother Earth, life was just a simple matter of survival. Well, it wasn't simple in terms of the how but it was in terms of the what. Eat, drink, sleep, defecate, procreate, and nurture the young. We humans lived like most other mammals did. We took what nature offered us in terms of food and shelter. It was only in death that we began to distinguish ourselves from the rest of the animals on the planet.

There was no great mystery in birth. Creating life through copulation was an instinct, just as eating, drinking, and sleeping were. We didn't question it we just did it. Death offered us the first boggle that induced us to use our oversized cranial matter. It offered us a reason to use or imagination and to think in the abstract. We had to invent a place that did not exist and that place was not in the physical world or available to us through our 5 senses like everything else we knew. The concept of nothingness, even to this day, is highly unacceptable to humans. So began the creation of the first virtual worlds, the Afterworlds, which were the very first significant creations of the human mind. The oldest human artifacts found mostly relate to burial ceremonies. Yes, there are also many artifacts that deal with birth and fertility but they are mimics of what we actually witness and experience in life. There was no way of knowing what was on the other side when it came to death. It was a one way ticket to the void.

We have split the atom and traveled through space but we still have not pierced the veil of death, though certainly not due to lack of trying. The greatest monuments on the planet are the Egyptian Pyramids and they are but three massive, timeless, odes to death. The Egyptians are acknowledged as being perhaps the first advanced people on the planet in terms of infrastructure, order, and the math and sciences, and from all accounts they were obsessed with death. Embalming may be the oldest science in the world. There is no culture in the history of mankind that does not have burial rituals.

In our highly advanced, technological culture, our approach to death is still a matter of the arcane and the rituals remain as they have since the beginning of time. Lifeless bodies are cleaned and treated to the greatest care, adorned with decorative artifacts, and either buried in the soil, housed in a mausoleum, or burned to ashes. All this attended by community and family members in mourning with elegant eulogies given to the recently departed. For many, respect is reaped in bounties that were never seen in waking life, such is our subordinance to the dead. Death is truly the master of us all.

But I’m not writing this blog entry to get into the details and intricacies of how we deal with death and our death rituals. This is more about how one family deals with it. Recently my eldest aunt, Johnnie Mae, died at the age of 83. My mother comes from a rather large family of 12, consisting of 8 girls and 4 boys, who are all now in their 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s. Johnnie Mae is the second sister to pass away in the last two years. I feel for my mother as it is hard to avoid the thought that given the age of her siblings funerals might become too commonplace for the remainder of her life. I was visiting my Mom on Thanksgiving when the she received the dreaded phone call. She had already attended two funerals that month.

I flew down from San Francisco to Los Angeles with a bit of excitement because, fortunately, for my mom’s family, funerals are not sad and gloomy gatherings. They are more like mini, impromptu, family reunions. 12 aunts and uncles equals dozens of first, second, and third cousins, and since we are spread out over the country from the home base of Alabama to California to the mid eastern states of Ohio and Pennsylvania any occasion for the family to get together is a blessing, even a funeral. I’m part of the West Coast Contingent and I don’t see my cousins for years at a time. Now we are all grown and have our own families, well, most of us do, and it is always a pleasure to see the next generation advancing in life and they are doing quite well from what I can see. Watching my little cousins run around playing games with each other takes me back to the 70’s when we did the same thing. There were a lot more of us and we were way more rambunctious.

We have a tradition of doing family reunions, usually in different parts of the country, and usually taking over a floor of a Hilton Hotel for a 3 to 4 days. I always wondered how other guests felt when they checked into a hotel and saw the hotel lobby and swimming pool full of African Americans and little black kids zipping up and down the hallways. My first trip on a plane and first time out of California was for the family reunion held in Pittsburgh back in 1975. For a California kid Pittsburgh was like visiting a foreign country. Just like our east coast cousins totally freaking out the first time they saw the Pacific Ocean, me and my brothers were fascinated by things that were foreign to us like fireflies, rivers running through the city, steel mills, bridges, basements, and real urban living where the houses were narrow, three stories high, and only separated by a few feet. I’ll never forget my Aunt Velma’s house with the white as snow carpet with runners, furniture covered in plastic, and the memorabilia shrine dedicated to the Pirates and Steelers.

The funeral was to be held in South Central Los Angeles at a small baptist church just off Vernon just a few blocks from the Harbor Freeway. I arrived in my rental car, a white convertible Mustang (free upgrade from Enterprise), and was greeted by my mother, her husband, and my oldest brother Keith and his three kids, Skye(16 yrs old), Kris (12 yrs old), and Tori (9 yrs old). We were the first family to arrive which was nice because it allowed me to spend some time with my mom and brothers who I only get to see once or twice a year. Over the next half hour, our aunts, uncles, and cousins showed up, kissing, hugging, and consoling each other, with extra love given to cousins Sandra, Tracy, and Stacie, the daughters left behind. Time changes everything. When we were little kids cousin Stewart was the oldest of male cousins of my generation and was the alpha male. Now just about all of us tower over Stewart and its been payback time ever since, but always in good fun, nothing malicious.

All of my mother’s sisters and brothers showed up for the funeral. We took our places in the church and the services began. Like my Aunt Carolyn’s funeral two years earlier the ceremony was lead by a charismatic preacher who’s powerful oratory skills filled the tiny church with much energy. The church going family did their part punctuating the end of each of the preacher’s proclamations with robust “Amens!” and “Allelujahs”! Halfway through the proceedings my cousin Miriam, a professional singer, came up to the podium to sing a gospel song in honor of Aunt Johnnie. Miriam has some serious pipes. She began in the classic, emotional style of soulful gospel singing and finished in a crescendo that took her from long sustained soprano highs to low and mighty guttural baritones that brought the crowd to its feet. Tears flowed and hands spontaneously went up in the air shaking invisible tamborines, praising the Lord with Amens and one particularly large woman was so moved she began speaking in tongues that lasted well after Miriam finished her song. Her performance sent chills up my spine. Cousin Afrika, the youngest cousin of my generation, followed by giving a moving eulogy to Aunt Johnnie and making a comittment to uphold family unity, imploring us all to do the same. I remember Afrika when she was just a little baby and I have always seen her like that but now for the first time I saw her as the powerful woman she has become.

In a perfect change of pace she was followed by her brother, Cousin Glen, or Glenny as we used to call him when we were kids. Afrika and Glen were two of the four children of my Aunt Emma and their family was very close to Aunt Johnnies family having spent their entire lives in South Central Los Angeles. Aunt Johnnie was the one who began the West Coast Contingent. She moved out west from Birmingham Alabama in the 40’s and was followed by many of her sisters, my mom included. My parents moved us out of LA proper to the Pasadena area in the mid 60’s while the rest of the West Coast Contingent stayed in South Central LA, so growing up we were the family that lived away from the nucleus and didn’t interact as much. At times, because of circumstances, Aunt Emma’s kids lived with Aunt Johnnie, so she was like a second mother to them. At the podium Glen began to relate to us his memories of Aunt Johnnie, speaking humorously about her well kept home with the plastic covered French colonial furniture. Glen told of how us kids could never enter Aunt Johnnie’s house through the front door, we always had to go around back and enter through the back door so we wouldn’t tromp all over her pristine living room. To enter through the front door would expose oneself to the Wrath of Aunt Johnnie. For a youngster she could be somewhat intimidating. She had a raspy voice from years of smoking and she still carried a lot of that Alabama southern drawl, and could swear like a sailor. Probably the most memorable memory Glen brought up was the “scent test”. Upon entering Aunt Johnnie’s house you had to present yourself to her for inspection. You had to raise your arms and let her get a whiff of your armpits. If you failed the test you were sent out to the backyard to hang out with the dog or you went to the bathroom and washed up. Aunt Johnnie wasn’t about to let any of us stinky boys defile her home.

Me and my brothers were lucky, we were spared the scent test because we didn’t spend as much time at Aunt Johnnie's house as Glen and the other LA cousins did. It must have run in the family because my mother would do it to me and my brothers at times. On Saturday mornings my mom would set herself up in the kitchen and talk on the phone for hours to her friends and relatives. In order to get out the front door you had to pass by her. Often times she would stop us on the way out and give us the once over, twice. If we smelled too manly, or our skin was too ashy, or hair too nappy, we were sent back to the bathroom to make ourselves more presentable and of course she would have to share that information with whomever she was speaking with on the phone in that tone of voice only a mother disgusted with her offspring could muster. The way she did it would always make you feel embarrassed and about two inches tall. Now that I am a grown man I can’t argue with her methods. She had four rambunctious boys and playing football, basketball, and running the streets all day was top priority. Showering and bathing were not. I can remember my mother actually rubbing dirt off my neck once with her finger. In the end she was really doing us a favor and keeping us somewhat civilized.

The pastor closed out the ceremonies with more lessons from the Bible. He must have known that he had the capacity to carry on all day so he told us if we wanted to slow his roll we needed to be emphatic with our “Amens!”. We didn’t heed his words with diligence until we realized he wasn’t joking as he powered on with one parable after another until finally the force of our “Amens” surpassed his colorful storytelling. We exited the church aisle by aisle and gathered on the sidewalk for an extensive session of photo opps. When our family gets together, photo opps are like being at the red carpet for the Academy Awards. For every group there were about a dozen cameras and video cams clicking away. There were so many cameras if you were in a group being photographed you really didn’t know where to look. We gathered in groups by individual families, we gathered by generation, we gathered by family sub divisions, and the holiest of the holies was the gathering of my mother and all of her brothers and sisters. If you were to drive by and see us crowding the sidewalk with beaming, smiling faces you would never think it was a funeral. Throughout the day and the ceremony the mood was not somber, it was celebratory. That’s just how it is when our extended family gets together. The funerals end up becoming mini family reunions.

Now that the funeral was over it was literally party time. We all caravanned over to the city of Carson to the spacious home of Cousin Erika. My nephew Kris and niece Tori sheepishly approached me and asked if they could ride with me in the convertible and of course I obliged. Riding in a convertible with me used to be the exclusive domain of my niece Skye but like I said before, time changes everything. I put the top down and off we went. We arrived at Erika’s house and the party began in earnest. The champagne, beer, and wine flowed freely and we lined up to attack the buffet of fried chicken, prime rib, greens, and potato salad. Cousin John-John, who is now enrolled in culinary school, held court in the kitchen adding strawberries to the chardonnay and frying up fancy shrimp. Cousin Chris, who has more than a bit of street in him and who’s stout build could be a result of too many trips to Popeye’s chicken, could be considered the family court jester. Baggin, crumbin, signifying, he’s the master and his jokes and stories had us laughing all night. The little ones took to the streets playing kickball and basketball just as we did when we were their age. The teens did what teens do, huddling in a small group manipulating their smart phones and exchanging the secrets of their clandestine world. The aunts and uncles sat in a circle and talked the night away, just happy to be together again. The ladies dominated the kitchen mixing juicy highballs and exchanging family gossip. The men found the tv room and planted themselves and their beers in front of the tube to watch the UCONN vs. Kentucky basketball game on ESPN, debating everything under the sports sun, from who was winning their fantasy football league to who is the best in the NBA, Kobe or Lebron. One thing they all agreed on was Kentucky guard John Wall may be the next Big Thing in basketball. Any stranger walking in to Erika’s house would never know all of had just attended a funeral.

Before the night ended, Big Brother Keith and Cousin Miriam gathered all the cousins for an impromptu family meeting to discuss the next family reunion. Our last two family gatherings had been the result of funerals and we didn’t want the next one to follow suit. After some discussion it was decided the next reunion would be in Las Vegas in 2011. Everybody seemed satisfied with the decision. The night had gone so well my brother Keith invited everyone to his home in Monrovia the following night for another family party which made everyone very happy, especially the East Coast contingent, who still had three days to kill (pardon the expression). I was not able to attend the party as I had to return to San Francisco but I heard it was off the chain. I knew it would be and I was really bummed that I was not able to attend.

Well, at least I was able to go back home to San Francisco buoyed and energized by spending time with the family which for me in my current state of extended unemployment was just what I needed. The search for hope and inspiration takes us all over the globe but often it can be found right under our nose, at a family funeral. God Bless!

The Princess and the President

It’s 2009 and we have a half black President sitting in the White House and Disney has released it’s first African American themed animated feature. In the minds of many these two events represent significant watermarks for the progress of black people in America. I beg to differ. I haven’t sat down with other black people to discuss this nor have I gone into any black community to gauge their collective feelings and opinions about these matters. This is strictly my own viewpoint, my own opinion, as one black person in America.

I vividly remember election night, November 4, 2008. I happily purchased two bottles of champagne to celebrate the soon-to-be President Obama’s victory. Unlike many people I knew he was going to be victorious. I wasn’t worried or nervous. I was 100 percent certain that Obama would win. When John McCain selected Sarah Palin as his running mate, in my eyes it sealed the presidential victory for Barack Obama. Up to then I was concerned the GOP would pull off another masterful cheating scheme to win the presidency as they had done in 2000 (Florida) and 2004 (Diebold voting machines). When the GOP allowed McCain to select Palin it was a true sign of their desperation. It’s not like they had a lot of great choices. Their new up and comers like Mitt Romney and Mike Huckabee couldn’t beat out retread McCain. Giuliani couldn’t hog enough of the 9/11 spotlight from George Bush to cash in on the patriotic/fear vote. Ron Paul was an outsider who really never had a chance. Fred Thompson, I don’t know what he was thinking. He wasn’t a leading man on fictional tv shows so why would anyone buy him as a leading man in the real world?

I had barely gotten home from work and uncorked the bubbly when the networks were already declaring Obama the winner. I remember turning to my girlfriend Denise and saying, “Do you know what this means? Now when we tell little black kids they can grow up to be President it will actually mean something.” In the next 10 minutes every network’s token African American analyst said the same thing, except for the FOX Network which had no prominent or token African American analyst. All they had was that deer-in-the-headlights look on their face as they mumbled in disbelief over the election results. Two bottles of champagne, $35. The look on the Fox Network newscasters after the election, priceless.

All over the world people were celebrating Obama’s victory. They were saying, “Look what America did”. The French news was querying why had they not produced an Obama ( I guess the French see themselves as the THE nation of western progress). In the eyes of the world America had redeemed itself, at least somewhat, for eight years of the Bush administration and what it wrought on the planet. Around the world Obama’s victory was not seen as a victory or validation for black people, it was a validation for the country as a whole. It was not an indicator of black progress, it was an indicator of American progress. That’s kind of how I saw it too. We didn’t put him into office. Yes, we voted for him but there aren’t enough black votes to put him into office. If you look at the voting record of black people over the last two elections we voted in almost the same numbers for Obama as we did for Gore and Kerry. The next day, sobered up from the champagne, I knew that the world would still be the same for everyday African Americans. I knew that the problems that plague our communities would still be there. I knew that just because we had a black President it wouldn’t mean that black issues would get top shelf treatment. A government for and by the people had changed over decades by war and globalization, into a government for and by the wealthy and powerful, who’s main instrument of control was the corporate structure, debt, and taxation. I didn’t see Obama as one who’s Presidency would be about radically altering that shift or changing that system. Presidents change but the corporate lobbyists remain. It’s a revolving door for elected and appointed officials to go from public service to private lobbying or to sitting on boards of large corporations, using their influence to dictate legislation that helps the rich get richer and stay richer. When the economy collapsed where did the all the bail out money go? Who was given all those hundreds of billions of dollars? It wasn’t the average, everyday, working American.

If anything the election of Barack Obama has ratcheted up the intensity of the hateful race rhetoric that has always been part of post Civil War America. The mindset of many Americans is since we now have a black President there is no excuse for black people not to be doing as well as other groups. It was like the election was supposed to make all of our problems and the history and legacy of racism, segregation, and institutional violence, disappear overnight. Don’t get me wrong. I was very happy that Obama was elected because I have a history of voting for people who don’t win (Nader, Camejo) and to be honest I never thought I would see a black President in my lifetime. I think Obama’s election was a greater nod to the country as a whole than to the black people of America. It proved to me that there are many many tens of millions of Americans who have moved beyond the politics of race and are willing to elect anyone to the office they feel can do the job.

Did Obama’s election have any influence on Disney’s decision to make its very first ever black themed animated movie? Maybe, maybe not. Was it due to years of pressure from organized groups of African Americans? Maybe, maybe not. If there has been a pressure put on Disney by black groups it hasn’t been on my radar. In my opinion, being recognized by Disney is extremely low on the priority list. We don’t need to be validated by the Disney corporation. Disney, like any other corporation, has one primary function and that is to be profitable and reward its stockholders. The only color that concerns them is green. I am completely ok with that. This is America where capitalism trumps all, including democracy, the Bill of Rights, and the Constitution. I do have a problem with that last part but I do understand and accept that making money is the most important thing happening under the banner of Americanism. Disney’s choice to make a black themed animated film is simply a matter of diversifying its assets and tapping into and widening new markets. Although almost completely absent from the American media, there is a black middle class that exists and its consumer habits are no different than any other middle class. I'm sure Disney is counting on this movie to have audience appeal beyond the black middle class. They are counting on it to appeal to the majority of the middle class, because ultimately, that's where the big bucks are.

Like any other kid I grew up watching and enjoying Disney movies but I never drank the Disney kool aid. I never was one to pine for Disney trinkets and memorabilia. Growing up in LA I loved going to Disneyland. One of my earliest traumatic memories was going into the mouth of the whale on the Storybook Land canal ride. I can still vividly remember the frightening whale eyes, the humungous whale teeth, and the big thing that hangs at the back of the throat that I do not know the name of. I literally thought I was about to become whale food and it scared the bejeezus out of me. It was scary but it also was thrilling and I liked thrills. On my 8th grade graduation field trip we went to Disneyland and it was one of the most exciting days of my entire life. Space Mountain had just opened and there were no crowds on a beautiful May day in Southern California. Me and my classmate must have rode Space Mountain about 10 times. We would get off the ride all hyped up and get right back on to ride it again as there were literally no lines. Up to then it was probably the most thrilling thing I had ever experienced. I was also a huge fan of the Pirates of the Caribbean. Pirates was less about thrills and more about atmosphere. It was the kind of environment that transported me to another world and another time. It was a fantasy come to life. That’s what Disney meant to me. It was all about the “E” ticket rides of thrills and adventure.

The movies on the other hand, especially their animated features, I didn’t think much of. Even as a kid I knew they were tame and sanitized. Because I do animation for a living I do respect Disney for what they have done. They practically invented the genre and works like Fantasia and Snow White are true masterpieces from a technical standpoint, but I was never drawn to them by the stories being told. When I think back to my childhood and what animated features really stuck with me, none of them are from Disney. Watership Down, Fantastic Planet, Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings, and The Yellow Submarine were the animated films that captured my imagination. There is only one Disney movie that ranks among my all time favorites and that is Dragonslayer which came out in 1981 and is a movie that breaks the Disney mold as it has much violence and a princess that actually meets a dire fate and literally becomes a meal for some not so cute baby dragons.

Watching these movies as a kid I was not at all concerned with skin color. I didn’t expect to see black people in Disney movies, it was just something that was understood about movies and television in general. To me movies and television seemed segregated. Whenever I saw black people on screen it was usually in what are now called, “blaxploitation” movies. On tv it was shows about living in the ghetto, shows like Sanford and Son, Good Times, and The Jeffersons. I watched them anyway because black people were in them. Something was better than nothing. As I became older and more knowledgeable about media I began to notice that when black people were in mainstream productions they were always playing the role of a low class person, like a drug dealer, pimp, or criminal. When a black person appeared in a film and they weren’t playing a stereotype it was very noticeable. In the movie Bullitt, George Stanford Brown played the role of the lead doctor. In Planet of the Apes, Jeff Burton played the role of one of two astronauts accompanying Charlton Heston. In the Omega Man, Rosalind Cash plays the role of Charlton Heston’s love interest and featured the first interracial romance I ever saw in a movie. The Outer Limits, a very progressive early 60’s sci fi tv show, featured a few black actors in the role of scientist or astronaut, and of course there was the original Star Trek series featuring Nichelle Nichols as Lt. Uhura. These characters stood out to me more than the gangsters, pimps, and drug dealers. I would actually wonder to myself how the actors obtained the roles. There is always the exception to the rule and of course that was Sidney Poitier. He was the only black actor who consistently played a wide range of characters that weren’t supporting the stereoptypes. It was almost shocking to see him paired up with Bill Cosby in the urban ghetto comedies, Uptown Saturday Night and Let’s Do It Again, that were produced in the mid 70‘s. I love both of those films, first and foremost because they were hysterically funny and secondly because of the presence of Poitier and Cosby which allowed the films to rise above the stereotypes.

So now we have The Princess and the Frog, Disney’s first black themed animated movie starring a black princess. There’s been a lot of hype over the film because of this. Really, what is the big deal? Is a black princess supposed to be meaningful to black people? If I remember correctly this country was created as a result of rebelling against a monarchy. In the Thomas Paine version of the Declaration of Independence(which Jefferson used as the foundation for the actual DI) one of the main reason for declaring independence was because of the African slave trade business that had been imposed by the monarch of England, King George. Many of the first Europeans that came from England to the Americas were indentured servants. You would think that Americans would have no interest in royalty, yet we do. How do you explain the American fascination with Princess Di? As a nation we are fascinated and thrilled by royalty and royal blood. Having a black princess does nothing for black people in America. If a black princess is supposed to be a boost to black self esteem then we are in serious trouble. You can’t grow up to be a princess in this country. You can grow up to be the President, an astronaut, or a doctor, but you can’t be a princess no matter what you are told. A black princess in a Disney movie serves Disney more than anything else. They get to take a crack at expanding the market for their movies into the black community and I think it is working. I’ve seen many parents with little boys and girls saying, “finally”, but really you think the kids are going to care? Is one black princess in a Disney movie going to have a profound, life changing effect? I think it’s the parents who are being affected more than the kids. They have probably struggled with trying to find positive black images in mainstream culture to bestow on their children and will seize upon anything halfway suitable in our highly visible, heavily saturated, 24-hours-a-day, digital, pop culture (even babies have i-phone apps now).

That’s what I am at issue with. We shouldn’t need to turn to the media for positive role models. Black people have been succeeding in America since the earliest days of its formation. We have a great legacy in this country of black achievers and it would be great to shine the spotlight on that. They aren’t going to see these people on movie screens and they won’t learn about them in school. We have been succeeding in this country long before Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement. I love the reality of Sojourner Truth, an ex slave that went to live among the Dutch and learned their language and became a powerful spokesperson for women and black people. Even more intriguing is the story of John Horse, a man who escaped slavery and went to live among the Seminole tribe and became one of their most important leaders. He organized ex slaves and Seminoles to fight against the U.S. Army using guerilla warfare tactics. He is the only enemy combatant to fight on U.S soil and earn a peace treaty with the U.S. government. They could not beat him. How about Marcus Garvey? He began the pan African movement in the United States and was one of the very first black entrepreneurs. He was born in Jamaica but came to the United States to organize black people all over the world under one movement to advance African people. He started several successful businesses in pre World War II America. The first successful open heart surgery was performed by Dr. Dan Hale Williams, a black doctor, in 1893. In 1909, African American Matthew Henson along with Robert Peary discovered the North Pole. Today we have famous rappers and entertainers like P. Diddy and Kanye West but long after they are gone and forgotten people will still be influenced by the works of Langston Hughes. Barack Obama was only the fifth ever black Senator and only the second in the last 20 years. The first three black U.S. senators made it to that level in the Nineteenth century. Usain Bolt is the fastest man possibly ever but before him there was Jesse Owens smashing the myth of Aryan supremacy by winning four gold medals in the 1936 in Germany, humbling Hitler and severely undermining his philosophy of white supremacy.

Africans have proven they can succeed in America long before Barack Obama and we don’t need validation from the Disney corporation. I’m not saying that the Princess and the Frog is a bad movie, on the contrary, I have heard it is a very entertaining film, but it isn’t a significant indicator of anything happening with black people in America. If anything it’s time we took control of telling our own stories. It is time to start teaching our kids the legacy of black success. Much of what I have learned about black heritage I have learned through my own research. There is more to our history than Martin Luther King and slavery and we shouldn’t have to wait until Black History Month to learn about black history. In this new age of information everyday is an opportunity.