Black and Proud

Three weeks of studying the civil rights in the South was an incredible experience. However, with the incredible experience came an ebb and flow effect where the class was exhausting emotionally and physically. By the end of the trip I had become so exhausted that in the last museum I went to with the class, I could barely read, stand, or talk. Part of the reason was because for three weeks straight, all of my energy was directed towards a topic that was ugly, beautiful, and difficult. By the time I entered the gift shop, I felt inclined to do something optimistic and joyful in anyway. I bought myself a Black Panther hoodie. And although the Black Panthers also have a difficult history, I needed something that screamed I am Black and Proud.

When the van finally reached Newark, I looked outside the window, and I was overjoyed. I missed my home. But, when I saw the cracked floors, dirty houses, and unkempt grounds, I had a flashback to when I was ten years old. I told someone that I live in Newark, and the person responded negatively and said, “Isn’t Newark bad?”. I would try to justify that by saying, “I live in the good part of Newark,” as if I lived in a part of Newark that was not surrounded by poverty. After visiting communities Down South with houses that are huge and beautiful and houses that looked as though they were about to collapse, once I entered Newark, I accepted that I live in an impoverished community.

Travelling Down South helped me to look at my life critically. I discovered that living in poverty does not have to be a bad thing. The Black and Brown people who I see on the streets every day in Newark do not need to be ashamed of their circumstances. Many who live in the impoverished communities do not need to compensate where they live for usually things that are “luxury.” In Newark, the people who live in poverty should instead recognize how blessed they are to have had thousands of people fight and die for their rights and even a place to live.

When I was driving along South Orange Ave. from St. Barnabas, in Livingston, before entering Newark, I only saw big houses, some white people on the street and few Blacks. However, once I entered Newark, I only saw Black kids, Black teenagers, and Black adults all on the streets and at the corner store with many dealing drugs. All these people who were on the street were surrounded by poverty. I did not want to judge too much, because for many standing doing activities late at night is surviving. But I had to question whether what they were doing was right. I believe that if these people had been the least bit aware of how many people died for the opportunities that we have now---in the South and even in Newark---these people that I saw on the street would not be on that street.

In Alabama, I visited the Southern Poverty Law center, and I took a pledge “to take a stand against hate, injustice and intolerance." I vowed that "I will work in my daily life for justice, equality and human rights - the ideals for which the Civil Rights martyrs died.” Whether the person is Black, white, yellow, or brown, leaving any person unaware of the many things that Civil Rights martyrs died for is an injustice. I believe that if my community if it educates everyone about Black history, and the sacrifices that were made by countless people during the Civil Rights Movement, if we are all taught that it was greater than just Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks,  through school, block parties, and even parades, if we learn all this, then city of Newark can change.