Growing up in Alabama, one of the hardest states to, during the 50s has to definitely be part of why you feel so passionate towards the inequality of our people of color. The threat of bombs constantly plaguing your city with repercussions little to none has to be the most alienating feeling to a human of which this hatred is directed. It shaped your life experiences that would go on to make history forever marking you an icon of the civil rights and black power era, and one still walking amongst us today.
Watching you walk into your own court hearing completely unapologetic of your blackness has been etched into my brain in a grandiose display with the words, "I am perfect in and of myself in the way I was created". These words have been calling for me to preach the same to myself, which I do every single day at every moment I catch myself slipping into the rabbit hole of what I should and should not emulate in this white-run world. Especially in the moments I feel myself questioning what parts of my blackness I want to hide to appease the white man who owns our jobs, opportunities, and our right to live.
Walking into the U.S. Embassy of the Philippines with my mother who had come to remove my sister and I from the foreign land from which my father had wrongfully brought us was a constant encounter with my blackness that interrupted the process of escaping. I walked through the embassy clearance, finally making it to the window to speak with the white man behind the glass who held complete power in whether he'd hear our voices or ignore what we have to say. I stood in front of him with my mother and sister with our blackness creating a haze between us and him that I feared would have the power to interfere with our life cry to him. I tried to speak as proper as I knew how, hoping to overpower my own blackness, "Sir my sister and I have been brought to this country by my abusive father who ran away with us from our mother. She has come to bring us both back home. We don't belong here. I ask that my little sister recieve her passport that my father called in saying was damaged. She cannot stay here with him. You don't know what this man is capable of. I am fearful that now he knows we know the truth he will hurt us." I remember saying this with a piercing gaze into his blue eyes, hoping he understood the truth and desperation of the situation.
Yet, it took one appearance the next day from my father to this embassy official to reject my mother, sister, and my plea for help. My father waltzed in with his white biracial 'I served in the military' and 'I am an exemplary citizen' talk for the official to no longer help us. I was so frustrated with the circumstance I now found myself in. I was having to fight the "perfect people", a term that I found exists. The perfect people are the individuals who are recognized by the white system in place. The glorified individuals who are virtually impossible to condemn. No one wanted to hold the conversation of the abuse this man had indicted upon us. I learned I am black no matter the situation, no matter how I speak, whether I tie my curls back in a slick bun or not. It is not something I can evade and should never cower from.
Miss Angela, you walked in with your afro freshly picked out in a perfect sphere with your entire life resting on this decision of the judge having already spent sixteen months of your life incarcerated for a crime you did not commit . You knew you were listed as a dangerous individual to the white community at large and you held no inferiority to the individuals who held your fate in their hands. You knew your blackness was something that would refuse to cower, so you stood in it strong! That day in January 1972, you paved the way for us black women to embrace our natural features and how we can use it to break the Great Walls of the system suppressing us and working to domesticate us in service to the white families of this nation.
Right now, there is a fight breaking out. Many of our brothers and sisters are in upheaval at the system we have been placed in for far too long. We are tired of being at the mercy of a system that was not built to protect and serve us. Miss Angela, I am inviting your fighting essence into my spirit as the fight continues for me now on a national level. As I fight, I am unapologetic of the blackness that I was born into and the confrontation that it will have with my oppressors.
Sincerely,
Kayla Mary Jane
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