Family Demons

Its hard enough reconciling your own behavior with whatever standard you hold yourSELF to especially if you hold tightly to a moral compass. In my older age, I have relaxed my standards quite a bit, feeling life is short… certainly I have less time ahead then I do behind me. And now more than ever I consider what the generations after me will inherit. Will I leave a legacy of dysfunction and poverty… or courage to face and unpack my baggage so that it will not carry over.  I don’t want any skeletons in my closet coming back to haunt or torment my loved ones.

My mother was an alcoholic, it’s tough to say out loud, but it is the truth. She was violent, depressed, and had hardly any financial discipline (or literacy.) She was literally demonically tormented, and she couldn’t hold onto a good romantic relationship if it were in a bucket with 10 handles (even with 10 hands.) But she was unique, amazing, regal, and a very memorable woman.  And my Poppa, though he remained married until the day he died, had the spirit of a rolling stone.

And I am sure your family has stufffffff too, all of which affects us in ways that are little known, until intentional digging unearths a dead something that still lives… in you. Speaking of ghosts and zombies… muhahahahahaaaaaaaa… HAPPY HALLOWEEN! But in all seriousness…

One of the longest battles I have faced is in relationships. My parents were divorced when I was 3.  Mom was also a product of divorce but both her and her mother married and divorced 3 times.  Big Al, Lenora’s only brother had 6, yes sixxx marriages. Do you think it’s all coincidence?  Nah, something is definitely hiding there. It may be useful to know that every one of my siblings (including myself) have also been married and divorced.  Is it a curse or iniquity? Ever heard of that word iniquity before?  It means bowing downward… as in taking the straight spine of a bow (as in bow and arrow) and bending it downward towards the ground continually until the bend remains. In otherwords, bending a straight thing until it is permanently molded into a curve. Something completely taboo if done over and over again can become part of one’s SELF - literally changing the DNA, which can be passed on.  

Sounds outrageous I know, but I was just thinking of this celebrity family whose father molested/raped his own sons and how many of the kids turned to drugs and have struggled publicly for decades as a result. Then the oldest son molested his younger siblings, became addicted to heroine… and eventually died of Aids while in prison. Now… I wonder at what point did the father’s wrongdoing towards his own sons, become, excusable (in his own mind) then permissible, and then ok to continue doing…  Incest and rape… forcing this struggle onto the gender neutral, innocent child.  The bent then is passed on… and will continue flowing through the bloodline, until dealt with. This type of thing is SPIRITUAL. When certain lines are crossed over and over (generational sins) seeds are planted and spiritual doors are opened. When visitors come to temp the carrier (in the next generation) to bring alive again the seed, a decision must be made … will they or won’t they…) and then a generational curse is the infection that comes from the continual sin. THESE ARE SPIRITUAL ISSUES, and they are open doors that connect our ancestors lives to our own. Sometimes the darkness and pain we experience is flowing through the doors of the past into our own lives. These doors MUST BE CLOSED. Now your generational stuff may not be as intense as mentioned above. Maybe yours is explosive anger, mental/physical abuse, narcissism, or even poverty… but whatever it is, it will not just go away with time. They’ll only get stronger and bigger as they roll along.

“Spiritual” can be creepy… especially when you lack spiritual authority. Its like being a pedestrian  who walks up to a cop involved in scuffle and demands that they back down and let you handle the situation... the truth is, you’re probably going to get hurt. Get yourself to a counselor, a pastor or priest with experience in deliverance. They’ll get you unlocked and to an EXIT and then close all the doors behind you so that you can move onward and upward. Deliverance doesn’t just free you, it protects your kids from the skeletons you thought you buried. Let me just say this, don’t just go to church, you’ll need to add your own SELF-work with all diligence so that when “the caller” comes knocking, you’ll have the strength needed to say “GO TO HELL!”

And if you need help, as always… I got you CLICK HERE

Inner Child 4: Puppy Love

Ok, let me tell you about the man I met at 4, lol, back then he was the boy next door. He had the cutest milky yellow face with “good hair” that was brushed down and parted on the side.  Mom and Dad’s divorced brought us to my grandmas and that and that’s where I met Paul. One of 5 super fine boys, the son of a sometimes very harsh Military man and a beautiful light-skinned (mulatto I think) “Fathers Knows Best” housewife.  She wore a French bun and crisp white apron.  I can’t image the strength (and control) it took to keep 5 boys in line while dad was away.  

One day while sitting in Gram’s yard Paul came bouncing over, in his clean little shorts, t-shirt and tennis shoes… looking like a JC Penny’s advertisement model. We’d sit and play (with trucks, cars, or marbles… or whatever) for hours until his mother called him in to make the “red Kool-Aid” for dinner. And afterwards he would return with red-dyed fingertips.  Over the next year and a half, we became inseparable, until my Mom remarried, and we moved to “the county.”  But whenever I came to Gram’s I needed to see him (or Vicki my bestie across the street.) And then one day… like bam! the Military snatched  his family away to California, Essex Place was never the same again. Man! I was crushed. Unexpectedly, about 3 years later, Gram received a letter for me from San Diego, it was Paul. And that started a 4 year long-distance love affair lived out through 6 to7 page letters. We did everything together, travel, sports, hobbies, and dream… and we eventually began to plan our future, complete with a picket fence and 3 kids.    

Aww shucks and then my family relocated to Cali and all I could think of was seeing Paul again. When the invite came to spend the day (and night) at the Landers’ house I was ecstatic… but a little weirded out (who does that?). I saw Paul waiting outside as we pulled up, as soon as the car stopped rolling I jumped out and we ran into each other’s arms,  It was like a movie, lol. We made ourselves scarce and spent the entire day just catching up and kissing. At bedtime I retreated to his room and he to the couch downstairs. Everything was very innocent. Laying in his bed our letters came to life… I was in his world now.  The ceiling was like a night sky filled with stars and glowing planes hanging from stings. I was felt closer to him then ever, and as I drifted off to sleep feeling warm, safe... and loved.

BUT IN THE MORNING… the Mothers summonsed us to the kitchen for a little chat. Thinking that was odd, holding hands we shrugged it off and entered the room. Mrs. Landers began by saying, “At first I thought this was Puppy-love but now that I see you together, I realize it’s  much more than that.” (I wonder if she knew that we had our future together already planned out?) “I don’t know if I can have this… He’s my baby boy and he has plans to become an Aeronautical Engineer like his father.” And my mother just nodded. I can’t remember the sequence now but afterward we ran off to spend the last remaining hours together before I had to leave. In the following weeks the letters began to trickle in, and I just  knew something was wrong.  And then he called: “It’s not you, it’s me …” he said, and my world came crashing down. I cried for weeks. And then I remembered the intervention and his mother words, “I don’t think I can have this…” After a brief depression I fell in love with Kip McGee. But the gaping hole remained …

It wasn’t until 15 years later that Paul, and I met and had a very vulnerable talk. He listened very patiently, I forgave him and received closure that day. But my secret hopes crashed and burned when his mom invited another girl to the same holiday dinner, he invited me to. He always denied his mom’s involvement in the demise of our relationship… but I felt like this was proof. So, we both went on with our lives. He DID become a rocket scientist, and later married a beautiful German girl and had 3 kids. They’re teenagers today… mine are grown (chuckle chuckle.)

Revisiting Lil Anji (and the PUPPY LOVE situation) I learned… 1) Sometimes God doesn’t answer your prayers the way you want Him to but there is always a good reason why. 2) Perfection is sometimes only skin deep. I thought having 2 parents was better than the life I had. But when I saw how mean/harsh Poppa Landers was to Paul and how controlling his Momma was… I realized every family has dysfunction (but even with brokenness, ya don’t have to treat people like crap!) AND 3) You’ll never be “good enough” for some people no matter how hard you try. Don’t take on their “monkies.” And don’t let their opinions shape who you are. God’s love compels me (each of us) to address our own “monkies,” to FORGIVE, RELEASE and move on. (I AM who i am by the grace of God!)

In closing let me say this about Paul, I am so very proud of him and I am very happy that he’s happy (#friendsforever).

Hey if you are struggling to get over your past and/or first love, I can help you, CLICK HERE For more on “monkies” and how to get rid of them get 4SELF 101 here (Its not just for teens.)

Inner Child 3: #Relationship Goals

In my book 4 SELF 101, Chapter 11: SELF-Care, we focus on “MiMi’s Story”, which is about a girl and her problematic dating life.  How many of you have heard “Do as I say, Not as I do”? Why do parents even go there? Don’t they know it’s the very nature of a child to gather data and put it into practice? That’s their very nature. So, guess where they gather their data? Duhhhhhh…

MiMi like many others, just wants to be loved and to have a good relationship that lasts. But her role models happen to be good women with bad dating (marrying) habits. All she’s ever seen are TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, so that’s her NORM. My story is very similar… lets visit my INNER CHILD and you’ll see what I mean.

Lil Anji: “My Mom and Dad, the most “handsomest” man in the world, were divorced when I was 4. I missed him sooo much that I used to cry at night “I want my daddy.” But I never saw him again for a long long time unless he was in one of my Honey-suckle tree daydreams. (see the previous blogpost Home Haunted Home.) One day my Mom remarried my “Pop” Bill and everything was good UNTIL… the “Saturday Nite Fights” started. Moses and me, clung together while dishes broke, and bodies hit the wall… it used to shake the entire tiny-house. To stop Baby Bruh from screaming and crying we used to sing songs under the covers.” (I was about 6 when I made a SELF-fulfilling promise that wreaked havoc in my future relationships…) “I’m never getting married, it takes you through too many changes.”

The mis-education of Lil Anji only included Mom (who was married & divorced 3 times), our neighbors the Browns, The Thompsons (like “Father Knows Best”) Uncle Al (married & divorced SIX times) and Grandma. When I went over Gram’s house, where I’d go to get away from the madness, BTW was also apparently haunted (#Poltergeist)... I’d notice “huh, no grandpa.” (I never new my Mom’s Dad.) But what I did see was how Gram owned her own home, a nice car, shopped at only the most expensive department stores (like Dillard and the former JC Pennys). She wore only the best leather shoes and owned diamonds and furs… and all this on a 3rd grade education! She was the Matriarch, her legacy set the expectation and standard of “Female Independence, Class and Strength.” Following in her footsteps became my very own CORE VALUE. But how many of you know your greatest strength can turn out to be you’re greatest weakness? INDEPENDENT BLACK WOMAN just is... She is queen, conquerer, regal… yes worthy of admiration. BUT! The Mindset…. can be toxic to loving partnerships because she’s ruling PERIODT. I’mma set that right there (and leave it alone) for a later time…. because that’s a whole nuther’ discussion.

Now with that said, I love being an Independent Black Woman, and I have worked hard at it, but it’s taken a lot of SELF work to get the right balance. So let me boil this down for you right quick. Lil Anji was (and still is) a daddy’s girl who experienced REJECTION and ABANDONMENT. She mainly experienced only TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS growing up (marriages that never lasted.) She made an INNER VOW to never get married. And her top CORE VALUE was to maintain her crown of being an INDEPENDENT BLACK QUEEN. And I am telling all that came with a lot of MONKIES and GENERATIONAL STUFF that present day me has had to fight through, dissect, and be healed of - in order to find the HAPPYLIFE.

One huge thing was figuring out what I really wanted. I had a bad case of double-mindedness (Wanting but not wanting at the same time (#RELATIONSHIP STALL). I realized the only way to change my circumstances was to 1) Understand what happened back there, 2) UNLEARN unhealthy mindsets, and 3) Change the way I do things. (Remember the definition of INSANITY.) Rethinking thing, fixing what is broken, using positive confessions and redirecting your energy … IS VITAL! But like SELF Development, it’s a work in progress. I encourage you to follow my footsteps and visit your INNER CHILD (once again) to look at your relationships and you will see where many of your today-issues came from. Its a starting place to address your MONKIES and become whole. For you can only experience true happiness from a place of WHOLENESS.

In all seriousness, dealing with generational issues, curses and habits (the sins of the fathers/mothers) is a spiritual journey. Find a Christian Counselor that has experience with deliverance and inner healing. And if you need help getting started, as always, I got you - CLICK HERE.

For more information on MONKIES, MiMi’s Story and overcoming TOXIC dating behavior, get your copy of 4SELF 101 here, it’s not just for Teens… it’s also for the TEEN in you.

Next Blog I’mma tell you about Paul who I fell in love with at 3 years old.

Inner Child 2: Home Sweet "Haunted" Home

7015 Lena was “home” during my growing up years.  Not much to look at, it was in “the county” of  St. Louis, a small town scarcely even heard of unless you lived there or nearby.  Diversity was just beginning, and we were one of the two black families (in the whole area) “lucky enough” to experience it. I can still hear racial slurs flying at me as I walked home from Dairy Queen. Momma, the queen that she was, taught us to strive to be better than that ignorance.

It took some time for this house to feel like home, I am quite sure it was haunted, lol. Not so much like Poltergeist, but I guess it was what happened there that continued to haunt me decades after leaving there. I used to have “Freddy Krueger” like nightmares that drew me back into the thick of things…until I addressed the demons and God healed me. A lil’ brick house, that was so tiiiiiiny I sometimes felt claustrophobic, and it was infested with roaches… (I shiver just thinking about it.) There is nothing worse than eating Raisin Bran cereal only to discover that the box said Kellogg’s Corn Flakes… Gross? (You have no idea!) Believe me “The Tent” was a very welcomed interruption to our lives. And the clean-up…**gagggggg** I can’t even tell you.

I shared a room with my super “BAD” little brother, which I mostly hated except for when Mom and “Pop” (my Stepdad) fought.  We held each other until the yelling and bumping stopped. (I’m semi-old now and I still jump when I hear loud noises.) The door in the kitchen… led down to the back door and out to the garage & back yard. But if you continued to the right, you’d descend into a pregnant scary darkness, that would chill you to the bone. You’d be smart to hit that light first, up by the kitchen door. The previous owner constructed the space into a commercial grade Sports Bar complete with padded leather stools, a pool table, a refrigerator, and wine bottle racks that were anchored into a mirrored wall behind the bar. I’m sure some serious $%@# went on down there… it just felt earie. There was a bottle on the rack that had what looked like a woman’s breast in it. I kid you not! With a signed certificate that said, “I John SoNSo can do anything I want to anyone on my property.” WHY DIDN’T WE CALL THE POLICE?!!! We were young children, and we didn’t know what to do… so we called our friends over who confirmed the incredulous site and we all decided to get give the bottles a proper burial in the backyard.

For me the best part of the house was outside. Going out to play was just what we did.  I mean, after doing homework and chores we’d just disappear until curfew (when the streetlights come on.) Raise your hand if you know somethin’ bout that! Under the pink honeysuckle bush, whose fragrance would fill our room as if calling me to herself. It’s where I’d go to get away from baby bruh. Nestled in the backyard where the fence met the back of the house, there was a space just Lil Anji sized that I’d crawl into and suck the honey from stems for hours. Other times kids filled our yard from all around to play tag, kickball, “Catch one, Catch all” and hide N seek, … but at dusk if you weren’t in the house or on your way home … “your ass was grass!” Lol, I can remember Ms. Kitty doing the rollcall: “Percy, Debra, Demetrius, Denise and Daryl !!!!!!!!!” and seeing the terror in their eyes for what was coming next.

7015 Lena was where I learned about loneliness, relationships, domestic violence and terror but it’s also where I have precious memories of dancing in the darkness (me and all my siblings) to the strobe-lit stereo speakers playing 70’s soul music.  It used to cheer up Momma, when she was depressed, which was often… she’d have a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other.  Even in the dark you could see her blinking, blinking, blinking away tears. We were “house-poor” latch-key kids who often created things to do for entertainment like “beat boxing” (before it was popular) or play-fighting “in SLO-MO,” we’d play cards and board games or roller-skated to music in the garage.  Growing older we’d hang out in the front yard under the big tree (it’s gone now) or on the side lawn until 3am, it was safe to leave your front doors unlocked. It was cool as long as Momma knew where we were. She was super strict, and life was hard sometimes but she, a single parent did something I never could do … have the same home phone number (383-0465) the entire time we were there.  Remember the old landline phone in the hall with the circular dial? Ahhh now that was stability.  Oh well it was the best of times, and it was also occasionally… the worst of times.  

People say, “It’s not good to dwell on the past.”  But I say, do your own visit to the past… don’t get stuck there. Otherwise, how will you know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve come from. Certainly, who you were then has had an impact on the you of today. Visiting your “inner child” and writing down your own story is not only therapeutic but seeing things with mature eyes may catch something missed or change your entire prospective on things that have you stuck and unable to move forward. And dealing with old issues today, sets you up for a better, happier tomorrow. Don’t put if off any longer. And if you need some help…. as always, I got you. CLICK HERE.

Inner-Child 1: Siblings

We all have an inner child.  For a long time, I lost track of mine.  But you know, hhhhhh…. That child’s experiences and the emotions, and antidotes, are to a large degree the reason we are who we are today. Its crazy, I had a hard childhood and I’ve blocked so much from my memory that there are gaps… like for instance, I hardly remember any of my schoolteacher’s names. But in a lot of ways, my childhood was great. We were one of 2 black families in the whole area (and there was racism) but we made friendships that remain to this day.

I think our tiny house was haunted… but “County” living (in what used to be a middleclass neighborhood) let us leave our doors unlocked at night and hang out until the wee hours of the morning on the side lawn, back yard or under the big tree in the front yard (which is now gone). I mostly hated sharing a room with my baby bruh, who would tear up the room in 5 minutes after I spent all day cleaning it. “Mommmmmmmmmm!!!!” I’d scream … and she’d just say 1 of 2 things, “Oh boys will be boys” OR “Don’t you hit my baby.” He was a bad little m-effer and no day went by that we didn’t want to just kill ‘em. Today, he’s the first to admit it too, lol. But! Sharing a room came in handy to get through the “Saturday Night Fights” (Pop arriving home to a very  drunk & angry Mom after partying all night.)  We clung to and consoled each other until the bumps and yelling stopped.

When my 2 older sisters who had lived with my father’s sister, Doris finally came home, I had forgotten they existed. After all they were gone for “temporary” 1-1/2 years.  In that time, we lived with my grandmother, and Mom fell in love, got married and had another baby.  At 3-4 that was practically half of my young life. I was so excited and all I ever wanted to be “one of them.” But I pushed and pushed so much so that I got into things that no elementary school kid should’ve gotten into. Things that made me grow up too fast.  Momma was very strict, and she expected so much… too much from us. After that last fight, the breaking of my mother’s nose and the divorce, the dust began to settle and life got back to normal, until… my big sis Renee refused to attend and graduate from school. I woke up to bumping, Renee was standing up in the tub under the head with Mom’s hands wrapped around her neck.  Next thing you know she was on a plane to California to stay with our uncle. Tired of Mom’s anger and abuse, it wasn’t long until Merel (13) and I (10) ran away (with the help of my aunt Doris) to be with our father also in California. Dad, however, returned us after 6 months and Renee came home too.  And then… life became stable.

But I remember sitting on my “Corner Unit” bed wondering what a “normal life” was like, when a big, wonderful breeze would fill the room with a marvelous, sweet aroma.  In that moment, I knew that someone somewhere loved me and that everything would be alright. Well one day, I just had to know the source of this natural phenomena.  I stood up on my bed and pressed my face to the screen, and I strained to see… and in the bottom of my periphery I saw but just barely, some itty-bitty pink pedals. I put the real estate classifieds aside which I checked every day, I jumped down and I ran straight out the front door.  I made my way down the side of the house and there it was! A honeysuckle bush. I ran to it and buried my face in it. Ohhh! I couldn’t take in enough of its sweetness. The joy I felt upon realizing the roots were on our property! It was nestled in the corner of the  backyard fence that was connected to the edge of the house. I ran through the front door, down the quarter stairs and out the back door and ahhhhhaaaaaa… there it was.  Immediately, I spotted an opening like a little doorway at the bottom and inside I crawled. There was enough room for me to sit up and I stayed there for hours, pulling stems, sucking honey, and reminiscing about my past life. The one where I lived somewhere else… with my daddy. I had found a secret place all my own where I could be safe and I spent many, many, hours there.

You know what?  I can trace all of my adult issues through the lines of this story. I bet if you wrote down, your story (we all have one) that you could do the same. You may see things  (even yourself) in a way you haven’t before.  This is a healing process, one that will bring you strength and joy, so finish it by talking to someone (a professional) who can help you sort it all out. Now… you’re on the way to a HappyLife.

By the way, you’ve just had a sneak peek into my soon coming children’s book series (stay tuned.)

Around A Town - The ATL Aquarium

Can I tell you that I’ve been fiending a trip to the Atlanta Aquarium for 3 years? But this summer I fiiiinally made it there along with my daughter and beau who were visiting from California. On the first attempt, we we almost wrecked the car into a sign that said, “All tickets are sold out for the day.” Arghhhhhhh! Can you imagine my disappointment? That was painful. And the little parking attendant said to me, “I know you’ve had dreams all your life of being a mermaid… but not today!”  I looked over at Jay and said, what the hell? We chucked wondering if he had come up with that all by himself, and just how many times he had said that this day, lol.” (He seemed “ a little slow.” Annnyhowwwww, we made a U-turn and was forced to go to with plan B. Determined to come back bright and early (ish) the following day, we opted on purchasing the tickets online ahead of time to insure entry. The little parking attendant dude redeemed himself by giving us a break on our parking. God bless him! Pschhhhe, “Dreaming of being a mermaid…” INDEED, Don’t let these young good looks fool, ya… I am in my 50’s. Plus, I can’t even be sure who he was looking to, he had something going on with his eyes… just kidding, lol.

The parking deck was packed, we finally found a spot, after about 15 minutes. Old as I am, I had to refrain from trotting to the entrance. I was feeling like a kid in a candy shop, eyes wide and looking in every direction at once. Coming into a very wide-open round space, a cross between a multi-level Mall “food court” and a movie theatre, every direction was calling… so many interesting things to look at and experience. SeaWorld in San Diego, CA and “Shamu” were the last Waterworld attraction I’ve seen and that was in the 1980’s. (Shhhhh, I' don’t want to hear it, yes it’s been quite a while.) But it was outdoors, by the ocean… lt’s pretty much like being on a different planet. Still, Atlanta’s Aquarium is bright, fresh looking, and elegant with modern architecture (just as good if not better than the previously mention sea life attraction.)

There are many rooms that are set up like a zoo, having animals, turtles, and fish behind thick glass there were some open tanks such as the sting ray petting exhibit and my favorite, the curiously beautiful Albino Alligators. One was lying underneath the heat lamp, palms up, soaking in the artificial sun. Whenever the orator spoke his name, he opened one piercing pink eye for the briefest of moments to say “Yo, what’s up.” Now, I’m not real proud of it but I did wonder what albino alligator skinned shoes, a belt and a purse might look like…I know, I know, how terrible! They were rare and sooo beautiful… so I quickly shook the thought from my mind. Oh don’t look at me like that, I’m quite sure I wasn’t the only diva who thought so. Moving on…

My second favorite attraction was underneath the huge tank. I’ve never seen a people mover-conveyor belt like the one at the airport used in this way before.  On-lookers glide through a tunnel UNDER the huge tank, spaced and without bumping into one another, what a brilliant idea! . What a wonder it is to see the sea life in this way. It felt like you could just reach out and touch their under bellies. It was like a 2-lane highway, except all the traffic, strollers and clogging was in lane 2. If I had to choose one favorite “fishy animal,” said my inner child… it would be the giant Manna Ray. 

On the way to my top pick, I made a pit stop to the jelly fish exhibit.  The area was very dark but lit up by the iridescent glow of the mesmerizing and fluid phantom looking fish, that inflated and deflated, floating up and drifting down continuously while onlookers oogled and ahhed. Why I though of the cartooned Will Smith in Shark Tale (Dreamwors, 2004) lol, idk…  I could’ve stood there for hours more in a trance staring at the colors, marveling at the movement and wondering what the shock of touching them feels like. The creativity of our God, smh. But I had one more visual feast to get to…my top pick!

The Biggest biggest, clearest tank I’ve ever experienced, the home of the 3 Whale Sharks. My first thought was, outside looking in is a much better deal … a shark swam past my face, his eyes locked with mine for an infinitesimal second and it chilled me to the bone. Oooooo, yep that is why I struggle with the idea of snorkeling.  And then like a huge floating bus came one of the 3 whale sharks, massive, toothless, and intimidating. So much to look at… Baluga whales, hammerhead sharks, manna rays and various types of fish, including a school of silver fish whose formation was continuously dispersed and re-aligned after intruding sharks and others swam through their ranks (reminded me of  “Finding Nemo” and Dory.)  

And I loved it all.  If you should make your way here to Atlanta, The Aquarium is a must see for families and individuals.  If you are not a fan crowds, like myself, let me suggest an off-season weekday.

Around A Town : The Apex Museum

To be quite honest I have procrastinated writing this article, only because my general goal is to create pieces that all readers can enjoy. This post brings up a topic that is not a comfortable one… Museums are all about celebrating the in History. But African and Black American History is filled with glory, discovery, invention, and unfortunately you can’t talk about where we are until you at least understand where we come from. And slavery was a very dark and ugly, but impactful element of our history. One many people what us to just get over, but to them I say… address the situation, acknowledge how one race benefited by demoralizing, oppressive often violent treatment and mistreatment of others and make restitution for the pain and suffering that was caused (just like they did with Native Americans, the Japanese and Korean and more.  And then maybe people can heal.

Ok, enough of my personal feelings, as you can tell I too feel “some kind of way” when reflecting on those 400 years of tyranny and bondage. Moving on… Track with me as I describe my experience touring the APEX Museum in Atlanta, Georgia.

Parking outside what looked like a “Colored Entrance” from the Jim Crow days, we soberly entered the museum. There was an open door, a hallway, and a wider point of entry a few yards ahead of that.  I choose to go through the furthest point and circle back to see what I passed up on my way out.  Rounding the corner to the left I came face to face with a dark tunnel with a tall black mannequin chained standing in front as if guarding it… My heart leaped and I was mesmerized by the sight. For a moment I couldn’t move. And then I noticed a sign that said, “The Point of No Return.” And I don’t know… I just couldn’t handle it at that moment, so I continued on to the left to “The Timeline.” The Timeline showed in brief but inspiring detail the journey of black people from ancient times from Africa royalty, as Egyptian Pharaohs, Warrior Queens, the mass hi-jacking, and to more current times such as the sad, sad, and still yet unacknowledged Bombing of the Black Wall Street, Jim Crow, and the Civil Rights movement… wow. my emotions were really stirring.  One thing I really liked was that each display had a UR code to give additional info.

Knowing that he (the very tall, cold black mannequin) was standing behind me to the right I made a wide berth to the back of the tunnel, passing a cute little store on the left with books, info, jewelry, and other stuffs visitors could purchase to commemorate the experience.  Coming around the back of the tunnel straight ahead I notice scantily clad mannequins, wearing little more than loin cloths standing  on a platform with a full-length cloth advertisement behind them to the right that had imprinted on it:  “TO BE SOLD… 250 fine healthy NEGROES… It stopped me in my tracks and my mouth fell open. I blinked a couple of times and turned my head to the left and directly before my gaze was several bottoms of feet… shackled together.  My God it was a replica of a slave ship.  I backed up so that I could focus on the whole thing. And my heart sank.  Even now when I think of what they went through and the conditions they were forced to endure, I just want to cry. Laying shoulder to shoulder with shackles on their necks, wrists, and ankles… Packed into a wooden groove with barely enough space to lift their heads and look around… like fruit paced in a box one next to the other.  They could barely move. If they had to vomit or use the restroom, they had to just do it where they lay. And if that weren’t’ enough there was another wooden layer with more human cargo above them like a bunk.  So, you can just image the filth, the smell… and literally being covered by it for months.  And what if the person you’re chained to dies… First of all, they didn’t know why they were taken or where they were going. Smh, I, I CAN’T… Talk about trauma. 

Behind me were chairs and the film was about to start, which explained so much more. And finally, the story behind the chained black man and tunnel was explained. Its where strong African men and women entered as people, were packed in a shipping crate like fruit going to a farmers’ market, and then when arriving on the other end were sold like cattle to the highest bidder. That’s the door of no return. It turned royalty to chattel.  They were beat, studded out, raped, breeded, lynched, subjugated, separated from other loved ones, and demoralized - they worked until they died and never saw their homeland again. More info was given on the progression of Black people in the film and when it was over. I thought I couldn’t take anymore. I quickly made my way past the table with artifacts and saw the replica of the black drug store… before heading down the hallway with plaques and info lining both walls I stuck my head into the door and went into the room, the first open doorway from the entrance… It was a room filled with bios of black women scientists! So cool… I made a quick loop and headed back down the hallway. I started to get excited as I heard a young black man exclaim into the camera that was filming him… “These are all the inventions Black people have made over the years!  Why isn’t any of this in the History books?” Amongst the names and pictures were their actual patent numbers.  Just to name a few…  

The Thermostat Control, the Air Conditioning Unit, and the  Motor - Fredrick M Jones (1939, 1949), Almanac - Benjamin Banneker (1791), Automatic Cut-off Switch - Granville T Woods (1889), Blood Plasma Bag - Charles Drew (1945), Bicycle frame - I. R. Johnson (1899), The Elevator - Alexander Miles (1867), The Fire Extinguisher - TJ Marshal (1872), Folding Bed - LC Bailey (1889), The Folding Chair - Brody & Sugar (1889), Guitar - Robert F Fleming, Jr (1886), Ice cream Scoop - AL Cralle (1897), The Lawn Mower - JA Burr (1889), Lawn Sprinkler - JW Smith (1897), The Mailbox - Paul B Downing (1939), Riding Saddles - W D Davis (1896), Spark Plug - Edmond Berger (1830), The Straightening Comb - Madam CJ Walker (1905), The Street Sweeper - Charles B Brook (1890), the Telephone Transmitter - Granville Woods (1884), The Traffic Light - Garrett Morgan (1923), The Tricycle - M A Cherry (1888), Ice cream - Augustus Jacks, The Gas heater and Clothes dryer - BF Jackson and the Potato Chip - Huram S Thomas. Even Michael Jackson had a paten up there for the I was really amazed at the ingenuity of our people.  We invented the horseshoe, even Michael Jackson was on the wall of fame for creating the shoe apparatus from Smooth Criminal, remember that?  Such amazing ingenuity, vision, and genius. There are many many more that it seems like history books have just overlooked. Lastly on the table at the end of the hall were,  an eggbeater, train box cars, and the “insect destroyer” pump. At the exit ,I looked back one more time.  I closed my eyes for a moment and gave myself permission to feel the sadness and then the pride. Thank you, Apex Museum (and staff), for today. You have lifted my head just a little bit higher. 

If you’re in Atlanta, don’t forget to stop by and check it out.