Amani na Mapenzi: Love & Peace

The Writing and Poetry of a’Kihoro

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This Thing About Black Hair

My Natural Hair

My Natural Hair

It amazes me how much emphasis we place on our looks in the U.S. Cosmetics, beauty, and hair care is a multi-billion dollar consumer industry. What we look like is a major factor in the type of lifestyle, job, and friendships we have throughout our lives. Though I have not seen Chris Rock’s documentary Good Hair, I have read a number of articles from a few very prominent people about this societal concept of black hair. When you look at me the first thing you see is my African heritage. There are no visible signs of my Scottish ancestors, or the Europeans I don’t even know about.

I painfully remember the taunts I received while growing up about having “good hair,” though I personally don’t place my own hair in that category. Even today, people -especially African-Americans comment on my hair with questions like “How do you get your hair to look like that?” or “Girl, I wish I had hair like that… you don’t even have a ‘kitchen’. The kitchen is the hair at the nape of the neck that is usually very dry and curly (kinky) on the heads of some women or color. Wanting to be accepted by my peers, I begged my mother to let me get a perm.

About ten years ago, I decided to stop putting harsh chemicals in my hair after developing a severe eczema around the hairline. The chemicals also caused hair breakage, dryness, and left me with lifeless strands of hair that seemed to come out by the comb full. To alleviate the problem I cut my hair to about an inch from my scalp and began proudly wearing a feminine short-cropped hairstyle. This was an emancipating experience for me; I was no longer slave to the products that caused the damage in the first place.

Back when I asked for my first perm, the stylist told me I was crazy -that I was going to ruin my hair. After more than 30 years of chemicals, she was right. It has taken a number of years since I put a halt to the chemicals and that first initial cut for me to love and understand what is now my absolute God given natural hair. For years, I wasn’t even aware of my own curl pattern that some women pay top dollar to achieve; it was already there so I decided to stop cutting it as well. Now my hair is healthy, the eczema is long gone, and I save a ton of cash from not using products I didn’t need in the first place. I can’t wait for more growth to allow me to be more creative.

What I have noticed and experienced is the change in some segments of society, and acceptance as an intelligent, educated woman -especially by older whites, in the workplace because of my natural hair. When I wear a free-style (without a headband) which allows the curls to cascade over my forehead, I receive comments from some of my white co-workers like “Oh I like your hair better when it’s smooth.”  Once I slicked it back with a load of gel and my director commented on how sophisticated she thought I looked.  That comment was most insulting because I’ve also noticed that I’m no longer asked to visibly assist when we host high profile or international visitors.

With the exception of certain careers, i.e. entertainment (music, theatre and the arts), and journalism -to a point, the natural state of the African-American woman’s hair is still looked upon as unacceptable in many circles. Initially my stylish short-cropped hair is perceived as the thing some women do as they age and considered non-threatening however, since allowing it to grow and becoming more adept at styling, there is a definite shift in perception from the non-Hispanic white people at work.

This poses the question to those who find cause to judge me by my hair. Do you where your hair in its natural state? No one questions the stringy, oily, often shedding hair on your head. In fact, I find it amusing that some whites try everything they can to achieve a thick bouncy, curly head of hair. They’ve even tried African braids and locking to no avail. In their case I suppose one could use the old adage, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Thank you Lord for creating me in the image you purposed. I love my natural hair.

Note: I now use products produced by Carol’s Daughter.

© 31 October 2008 – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

Michael Jackson’s This Is It…

Michael Jackson 1958-2009

Michael Jackson 1958-2009: He will forever live in my heart.

Well, I actually did it. I went to see This Is It. If you know anything about the grieving process, you will understand that this was a crucial part of my grief over the death of Michael Jackson. My initial apprehension about going to see the film was filled with thoughts of not being able to watch without bringing back the flood of emotion and tears that became a part of my daily life for weeks after his death. Wow, even while writing this I am emotional and listening to his music, which constantly plays in my house.

Going to see the movie was challenging also because I went alone. It is amazing how difficult it was to find a friend willing to go with me. Some people indicated they were not interested in seeing this death film. Others gave ridiculous excuses alluding to all the tabloid fodder over the years.

I’ve know Michael Jackson from afar all of his public life. It was during my own pubescent period when I first heard that powerful voice pour through the radio singing I Want You Back. I was hooked, and from that point on Michael, his music and his message have lived in my psyche. I cried with him when he sang She’s Out of My Life, chanted “Ma Ma Se,Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa” from Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’, and understood his deepest emotions when he sang Earth Song. I was with him one hundred percent through all of his agonizing tribulations.

My latest book Amani na Mapenzi: Love & Peace Volume Two contains a tribute to Michael with two poems In The Music and He Had to Die as well as two essays Prejudice is Ignorance and Dance, Dance, Dance. Michael is a psychological study in the damaging affects of man’s inhumanity. He didn’t fit the mold of the publicity hungry, media seeking, jet-set Hollywood type, he was about creativity… his work, his spiritual beliefs and his humanity.  Therefore,  instead of embracing his genius, some saw fit to create at will and feed a tabloid image giving no regard for the human being who was just plying his God given talent.

Let me tell you, there is nothing but life giving energy throughout the film. For all the naysayers, we must remember that this is rehearsal footage, which under normal circumstances would never be seen by the public. We see a 50 year old Michael Jackson will a special light in his eyes, and a level of energy that belies his chronological age.

Some of his dance moves are not as powerful as they were twenty years ago, but they are still there. His James Brown swishing -which he perfected like no one else other than James himself, his signature Moonwalk, the signature Billie Jean dance, the Beat It and Thriller movements, and head snap is all there. In fact, they become more powerful as the beat of the music fuels his energy. Occasionally the sparkle in his eyes fades, but it returns in a split second throughout the various rehearsal sequences. There were times during the film that I found myself moving with Michael, I guess because I am so familiar with his choreography and anticipate every muscle movement.

There is absolutely no hint of any health issues and drug or substance use. For the trained eye one might notice a hint of arthritis in his knees, and think that he is too thin; but he is a dancer and able to compensate for those minor nuances. We see a humble Michael Jackson who is all about perfecting what would have been his last overseas concert venture. His passion is for the audience to receive and enjoy the best entertainment possible. That was (is) Michael Jackson.

This Is It would have been one hell of a concert. Not only are the song-sets -which were chosen by the fans, a reflection of his musical genius, the staging, scenery, and technology are something to remember. No one was going to walk away without a feeling of euphoria and amazement. Michael Jackson is (was) a one-of-a-kind phenomenon. There will never, ever be another like him.

© 30 October 2009 – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved.

a’Kihoro SPIRITUAL CREATIONS

He Wasn’t Trying to Die

Rest in Peace Michael.

A Reflective MJ

A Reflective MJ

One thing that continues to trouble my soul since June 25, 2009 is the fact that Michael Jackson was not trying to die.  He had too much to live for -first and foremost, his own children, along with his passion for healing the world through healing children.  At 50 years old, he was aware of his abilities and had his own concrete plans to live long into old age.  During the announcement of his then, upcoming concert tour he told the audience “This is it, this is the final call.”  What’s sad is that he wasn’t talking about leaving this earth, he was talking about working himself into a frenzy to perform the quality his fans had become so accustomed.  He was telling us… ‘I’m getting old, and as much as I’d like to keep going, I’ve got to slow down.’   And, as usual with Michael being the exacting professional, he gave it everything he had… including his life.

There are many young people, especially African-American 35 years and younger, who remember only the sensationalism brought upon him at the hands of others, or his ever changing physical appearance.  They refuse to listen to his music, thus they are robbing themselves of his talent, his genius, his message.  In a conversation with a young woman whom I consider highly intelligent,  she admits that she doesn’t remember anything else about Michael Jackson except that he was a child molester.  When I quickly responded to her that no, he is not, her reaction was “Yes he is.  Look at all the publicity and the trial.”  Here’s how the rest of the conversation continued…

“Don’t you believe he’s a child molester?” she asked.

“No, I do not.” I responded.

“Why not, it has been proven.” she continues “He was arrested and had to stand trial.”

“He was acquitted on all counts.” I responded.

“Just because he was acquitted, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  What about the child before?  Why did he settle that one out of court?  How can you say that he is not a molester?” was her rather agitated response.

My reply…”The God in me will not allow me to view him as a molester.  I have never for one moment believed that he could hurt a child.  He’d hurt you before he would harm a hair on any child.”

The young lady tried to paint a different scenario by asking “What if it was your child?  Suppose your child came home and told you they slept in someone’s bedroom, with an adult.”

My response went something like this… “First, my child wouldn’t be with an adult I didn’t know and trust.  I wouldn’t accuse the trusted person of molesting the child until I found out the facts, was absolutely sure, and had concrete evidence (both physical and psychological).  Even if I were suspicious, I wouldn’t push the issue without being absolutely certain something portentous happened.  I would have to speak to the adult (with or without the child present).  Jumping to conclusions does not mean anything out of the ordinary happened.  It speaks to my friendship and trust in the individual.”

And my young friend said…”Well, you are certainly different that I am.”

For the many who don’t know Michael and can’t imagine him beyond the entertainer, here is a glimpse into the man.

2001 Heal the Children Speech at Oxford University.*
This is part 1/4 of the audio w/full text. You can continue to listen to parts 2/4, 3/4 and 4/4.

* Heal the Children Speech on YouTube

© 2009, Sharon Moore Stenhouse – all rights reserved.

Like a Coin… Michael Joseph Jackson (1958-2009)

Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson

Everyone’s life has value…think of it as a precious coin. Coins have two sides, just as life begins in birth and ends in death. Without both sides and everything in between -life, just as a coin, will have no value.

Can you imagine living without the in-between?

Can you remember what you were doing at the age of five?

Sitting in silence with my eyes closed, mourning the loss of someone who has been a part of me since the beginning, I tried to imagine what it must have been like to be Michael Jackson. I’m thinking what it must have been like having fun with your family, especially your brothers, singing and dancing in the basement.  We’ve all done that at some point in our lives -at least I can say I’ve been there.  Well having fun is wonderful and when your father suggests that the family can make money singing and dancing, that sounds wonderful too. It is wonderful until it becomes an obsession.

Okay, so now starts the living out the dreams of the father, things are going to improve -especially since the singing and dancing brothers get a big break.  Father’s obsessive dictatorial push grows even stronger.  Lives are now being managed, no one has a mind of their own. This is good until one day you look around and discover you are no longer five years old, but ten years old.  You are singing and dancing all the time -rehearsals, recording sessions, television performances, club dates and stage shows all over the country -when you realize that another ten years has gone by and you’re now fifteen.  Everywhere you go people recognize you and you’re starting to realize that everyone wants a piece of you.  You can’t go anywhere alone… you can’t go to beaches, parks, amusements, movies, concerts (unless you are the concert), shopping, restaurants, or for a simple walk.  Makes you wanna holler  -throw up both your hands.  Oh, that’s another singer’s story.  Lets get back to being Michael.

Somehow, along the way, your talent emerges and outshines the talents of your brothers causing dollar signs to appear in the eyes of producers, promoters and your father. Now, we all know that no matter how much love exists between brothers at least one -maybe two or more, will become green with envy. Most likely, the father begins to play ends against the middle and you start to feel like an outsider. You love what you’re feeling in terms of the ideas coursing through your brain, and you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to jump out there and give it a try.  You’ve been in the business for a while and you’ve seen the toll it takes on some of the best; Marvin and Paul come to mind though their pain and turmoil has not yet surfaced at this point in your life.  People are pushing at you from every direction.  Your chance is coming.

This is a time in America when black and whites still stand with a rope drawing a line in the sand.  Music, with the possible exception of jazz, is still a dividing factor among the races with artists trying to ‘crossover’ the color line.  Motown, which is where you got your start, perfected crossover artists; black to white audiences.  Even the new innovative methods of marketing such as the onset of music videos set demarcation lines through vehicles like cable television and MTV.

A knight in shining armor comes into your life to lift you out from under the weight of the past years.  He sees your talent and potential, and the two of you team up to create what becomes a powerful suite of music. You’re empowered.  With the success of the first musical effort and with your new mentor, the two of you embark on a greater challenge which results in career and world changing magic. You become the hottest selling recording artist in the world, you break down color barriers to open doors for others, you win accolades and numerous awards; everything has come together after more than twenty years in the music business and you’re not even thirty years old.  Where did the time go?  What happened to the family?  Where are the buddies?  Although there is schooling, there was no one place where you part of the class, no teenage crushes, no high school proms or graduation, no college life with dormitories and pledging for Greek letters. Now what?

You still can’t go anywhere in peace, can’t even hold a simple conversation on things other than the business… and if you want peace and quiet you have to stay secluded, so you take the money you’ve earned, buy up some land and build yourself a place where you can do some of the things you missed as a child. Only problem is that it won’t be fun if you’re there all by yourself.  Well who better to share this wonderful place than the little ones?  Even better, you decide you want to help those who can’t help themselves so that they don’t grow up without a childhood memory.  This is great until somewhere along the way, someone with unrelenting motives sees dollar signs and decides in their twisted mind that something is amiss behind the gilded gate of your retreat. Now you are perceived as someone sinister instead of someone with a good heart… a child’s heart.

Damn, damn, damn!

Can’t stop here because there is another aspect that is so tormented you need to become someone else. Your public persona must keep up with the successes you’ve created, else you’ll be stuck being a grown-up who never had a chance to grow up. Okay, maybe if you tweak a little bit of the outside you’ll relieve some of the torment; though you’re not even sure what is the root cause. Anyway, one thing leads to another and before you know it you’ve evolved into a different physical person on the outside, but deep down on the inside you are still you.

Are you keeping your own notes? Let’s see… now you’ve been in show business for thirty years, you’ve become extremely wealthy, extremely extravagant -that’s because you are such a giving person, and yet there’s still something missing.  And, the bottom feeders and hangers on who want -no need- to be near you are also helping to destroy you.  Suddenly you become fodder for simple mindedness, trashy newspapers, and across the pond in the UK, you’re referred to as ‘Wacko Jacko’.  This is painful. You also have to endure both a physical and mental pain that has developed over the years. Your insides are burning when suddenly someone takes the wonderment and turn it into something sinister.  You’ll discover later that this endurance race is just the start.

Know what, you realize that you need to pour out love on someone special and block out the world’s insanity. Finding a spouse is not easy because of who you are and what you’ve become however, the perfect person steps into you life. The story of their life has similarities to yours, and with a tremendous amount of understanding, you get married.  Pressures on the outside become tremendous and with two years you’re single again. Children…your own children that’s the ticket. Within the next ten years, you accomplish becoming the parent of three beautiful children, the two oldest from your second marriage. Of course, your methods are criticized perhaps because no one but you and those involved need to know details of your most intimate life. Now at least you have a legacy bloodline, but wait…that may prove to be difficult at some point.

Hey, readers are you still with me here?  Maybe you should sit in silence with your eyes closed and try being Michael when you’re done reading.

Think for a minute. You’ve been in show business most of your life, you’re starting to age meaning you can’t perform like you could a few years ago, you have three children and you’ve been battling internal and public demons for years now.  You have mounting debt and you’re life has been filled with promoters, lawyers and accountants while you’ve had to dodge bullets of accusations about your perceived lifestyle; this last one was the most painful experience of your life.

After many sleepless nights in reflection and discernment, you realize your responsibility to set matters straight and decide to face the world and its demons head on, one more time; this is it.

Like a coin you had the in-between.  It is sixty-five days before your fifty-first birthday. Yesterday was a good day.  Working on your planned salvation is fulfilling, yet strenuous. Your body aches, you are physically tired, your mental stamina is exhausted, and within the blink of an eye God says “Come home my child, I will take care of everything, with me you can get your the rest.”

RIP Michael… Amani na Mapenzi: Love & Peace

You will live forever in my heart and in my home where your music often fills the air.

© June 27, 2009  – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All rights reserved.

Connected Truth

Artist's Queen of Sheba based on the Biblical description.

Artist's Queen of Sheba based on the Biblical description.

As a young girl growing up in Baltimore, there was a saying that often echoed throughout my home. “Everyone in my skin, ain’t my kin.” What my parents were saying to me and others, during a time when African-Americans were still being called ‘colored’ or ‘Negro’, was that one should not associate with individuals whose core values and mores were perceived as denigrating.  I remember my mother constantly trying to instill the notion that the company we keep judges us.  She insisted on reading; if one reads, one can achieve anything, including wisdom, and can learn to think for themselves.  As someone who has been around for more than five decades, I can say with certainty that I’ve witnessed varying degrees of African-American’s self denigration and therefore, I am willing to put my own spin on those words.

We as black people -called the descendents of Ham have a long, storied history that dates back to Genesis. The Old Testament tells us in Genesis 6:8-13,  “But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord. These are the generations of Noah: Noah was a just man and perfect in his generations, and Noah walked with God. And Noah begat three sons, Shem, Ham*, and Japheth. The earth also was corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence.  And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth. And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth.”

Note: Egypt was traditionally called “the Land of Ham,” and Ham was considered to be the ancestor of the Egyptians and of all African peoples south of Egypt. (Source: International Standard Bible Encyclopedia)

Genesis 9:18-23 goes on to say,  “And the sons of Noah, that went forth of the ark, were Shem, and Ham, and Japheth: and Ham is the father of Canaan. These are the three sons of Noah: and of them was the whole earth overspread. And Noah began to be an husbandman, and he planted a vineyard: And he drank of the wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent. And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without.  And Shem and Japheth took a garment, and laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward, and covered the nakedness of their father; and their faces were backward, and they saw not their father’s nakedness.”

Some Biblical scholars tell us that Ham in seeing Noah accidentally and involuntarily, committed no criminal act against God’s word, but that he pleased himself with the sight and he told his two brothers in a scornful deriding manner.  His brothers by refusing to see for themselves what Ham had seen, covered the nakedness. For whatever reason, Ham entered his father’s tent. He saw his father in a drunken stupor; perhaps Noah’s wife was as well.  His brothers feared Noah’s situation.  In Leviticus 20.11, to  “uncover his father’s nakedness”  is to lay with his father’s wife, that is to have intercourse with her. Also,  “You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father, which is the nakedness of your mother; she is your mother, you shall not uncover her nakedness (human weakness and imperfection).

Upon the discovery of what Ham had done, and the fact that Shem and Japheth chose to cover their father, Noah shunned and cursed Ham’s descendants and their descendants into servitude.  It is believed that result of Ham’s shunning created the black tribe. There are native African tribes that are believed to trace themselves back traditionally to Ham.

The “curse of Ham” refers to the biblical story in which Ham, seeing his father drunk and naked, refused to turn away as his two brothers did. When Noah awoke, he cursed Ham and his son Canaan, supposedly causing a darker pigmentation in their descendants. This so-called curse has often been wrongly used to justify racism. (Source: International Standard Bible Encyclopedia)

However, there are middle eastern nations which are according to biblical accounts, truly the decendants of Ham. “And the sons of Ham; Cush, and Mizraim, and Phut, and Canaan. And the sons of Cush; Seba, and Havilah, and Sabtah, and Raamah, and Sabtecha: and the sons of Raamah; Sheba, and Dedan. And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a mighty one in the earth. He was a mighty hunter before the Lord: wherefore it is said, Even as Nimrod the mighty hunter before the Lord. And the beginning of his kingdom was Babel, (Babylon:Iraq)…” Genesis 10:6-9

Africans and African-Americans passed on many stories in the tradition of oral history that we are the descendants of Ham. The Bible does not definitively state that Ham’s “cursed” descendants were black however, there is an inference because the descendants of Cush, settled in Ethiopia, and therefore Sheba the first son of Raamah must have been black.  The prophet Jeremiah (Jeremiah. 13:23) asks  “Can the Ethiopian change his skin?”

Biblical genealogy also indicates that Ham’s son Canaan and his descendents were generally within the Egyptian sphere of influence and became known as Canaanites. Abraham, called the “father of the multitudes” was the great nephew of Ham brother of Shem. God called Abram to migrate to Canaan, assuring him that he would father a nation.  Upon moving to Egypt, Abraham identified his barren Sarah as his sister rather than his wife, causing the pharaoh to be attracted to her.  In fact she was his half-sister, the daughter of Abraham’s father but not his mother. He decided he could produce offspring by taking Sarah’s Egyptian handmaid Hagar as a concubine. The union produced a son, Ishmael who could not become the promised heir.  Ishmael and his mother were expelled from the camp of Abraham at the insistence of Sarah following the birth of Sarah’s son Isaac. This history is directly linked to Noah and his three sons Shem, Ham, and Japheth.

Taking a look at another biblical character considered to be black, the queen of Sheba in Islamic traditions is the founder of the first royal line of the Kingdom of Sheba in southwest Arabia.  Her story is very well stated in the holy books of the Middle East.  Was she bequeathed to Raamah’s (Ham’s grandson) son Sheba, or was she a descendant?  The queen, described as dark and very exotic looking, visited the wealthy King Solomon at his court in Jerusalem. Hoping to impress him with her wealth, she arrives with a camel-train laden with spices, gold, and jewels. The purpose of her journey was to hear his wisdom and thus improve her own.  Solomon’s wisdom made more an impression upon the queen of Sheba than all his prosperity and grandeur.  She returned to Ethiopia pregnant with King Solomon’s child.  From 100 BC-700 AD,  Ethiopia was considered just as powerful and sophisticated as Greece, Rome and Persia (Iran).

Fast forward to today.  I cannot begin to count the number of people who over the years have stated that they believe black people are inherently cursed. This sentiment tends to rely on misguided teachings from the Bible, passed down through generations, as a crutch or explanation for society’s perception of our people.  One particular text can be found in Colossians 3:22:  “Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh; not with eyeservice, as menpleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing God:” Taken out of context this text can be construed as a powerful tool.  It was used as a precept for the atrocities of slavery and the mid-Atlantic slave trade.  It was used in the Jim Crow south, and the early church.

In context the text says, Colossians 3:18-25  “Social Duties of the New Life:  Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them. Children, obey your parents in all things: for this is well pleasing unto the Lord. Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged. Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh; not with eyeservice, as menpleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing God: And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ. But he that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done: and there is no respect of persons.”

We must stand for something or we’ll fall for anything.  The point here is how even today, there are many people -in this case I’m speaking to African-Americans, who will follow anyone and anything.

The urban legend of Willie Lynch, a British slave owner from the West Indies and the father of what was to become lynching, is a prime example of misperceptions and accepting them as being real.  In this legend, there is letter written supposedly written in 1712 to the Colony at Virginia, Lynch set a specific tone. The basic premise of the message was that there are many ways to keep ‘control’ of slaves. Portions of the text included, “While Rome used cords of wood as crosses for standing human bodies along the old highways in great numbers, you are here using the tree and the rope on occasion.  I have a fool-proof method for controlling your black slaves. I guarantee everyone of you that if installed correctly it will control the slaves for at least 300 years.  I use fear, distrust, and envy for control purposes.  I shall assure you that distrust is stronger than trust, and envy is stronger than adulation, respect, or admiration.”

In recent years, there has been speculation by historians and researchers that the Willie Lynch letter never existed. Many conclude that prior to the early 1990s no one ever heard of Lynch. Also, the language used in the letter is not in the manner, tone and dialect of the 18th century…whether British or American.  Some have even called the Willie Lynch paradigm an Urban Legend.  If you think about it, how many men from Great Britain, living in the West Indies in the 18th century would identify themselves as Willie Lynch.

Even the recent film produced by Harpo, Oprah Winfrey’s production company, titled The Great Debators which tells the true story of a 1930s debate team that took on the Harvard elite, used the Willie Lynch legend to make a point. In the film however, the it was used to inspire the students to work hard at becoming great.

The fact is we are not cursed.  Our history long before the middle passage give cause to take a serious look at our communities today.  Some of us, as black people, place more emphasis on the long held perception that we cannot, rather than on seeking the truth.  We have a propensity for living as though there is no tomorrow.  We are among the largest group of citizens who tend to live without giving rational thought to the consequences of unbridled consumption, inferior or under education, and noninclusive participation in governance.

Although blacks are not the only group in this category, we tend to fall under greater scrutiny for our decisions and actions, sometimes through years of purposed design.

Wisdom is defined as knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action; scholarly knowledge or learning and wise sayings or teachings; precepts.  It is the ability to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting and insightful, using common sense and good judgment.  Some (in my skin) have negated wisdom which results in losing respect for our environments, our communities, and ourselves.

Our rich history, ancient to present day dictates pride not condemnation.  We have allowed influences, some of them our own, rather than truth and wisdom to imbue us with our own self hatred.  Throughout history, we as a people have endured many instances of  mis-education -not to mention oppression, thus creating a diminished appetite for gaining knowledge and wisdom. This has kept a large portion of our community in our own chains of agony, and the only way to break those chains is truth.

Everyday I see instances of my people, black people who literally do not care, or perhaps have no clue of their truth or the magnitude of their actions. Their attitudes filter down to our children and future generations.  Until we as a people learn to prioritize the important aspects of life, and become learned and wise, I must continue to say “Everybody in my skin, ain’t my kin” however, those in my skin most assuredly are historically connected. ###

© 2009  Sharon Moore Stenhouse -All Rights Reserved.

He Speaks Through the Children

On this glorious Palm Sunday morning (April 5, 2009) with the temperatures warmed by a bright sunlit sky, a wonderful feeling of calm and peace came over me. As an Episcopalian the service and liturgy held the same familiarity, it has for most of my life. For many years now, Palm Sunday service at my church is the culmination a ritual called The Blessing of the City. Churches in and around the historic Lafayette Square of Baltimore gather at City Hall to knock on the government’s door as we pray, offer up thanksgiving and ask God to bless and protect all of the citizens of the city.

Child's Artwork - Palm Sunday

Children's Artwork - Palm Sunday

At church, there was the distribution of the palms, the blessing of the doors at the entrance of the church, and the triumphal entry procession with the congregation raising their palms in celebration; rejoicing.  It was during the prayer before the sermon when I truly felt the presence of God in my heart.

While sitting in my pew, head bowed in the posture we have come to call “looking to the Lord,” I heard the beauty of Jesus’ voice. The priest was praying for the congregation and the world, and asking for a remembrance of Gospel (Mark 14 & 15) which is a very holy time for Christians. During the thought-filled prayer, a young child’s voice echoed in the sanctuary -not crying, but speaking softly with a sense of gentle innocence. Then another child’s voice joined in, and another and another until there were many. The voices were a sweet sound. This was not disturbing, just a soft murmur underscoring the prayer.

As the priest continued praying, raising his voice in adulation, the children’s voices increased. When the prayer ended and all said Amen, the sanctuary fell silent. The voices stopped just as suddenly as they began, and there was quiet stillness in the air.

That is when I felt the presence of the Lord, and I knew in my heart that Jesus was speaking to us through the children; offering up peace.

Sanctus and Benedictus… Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might. Heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.

© 2009   Sharon Moore Stenhouse  -All Rights Reserved-

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