A Small Piece Of My Mind

It shouldn't really come as a shocker that I'm a Black woman.  (*gasp!) Yes, I know I said Black and not African-American.  That's because, I don't really know where my ancestors came from and there's nothing wrong with saying 'Black'.
I learned a long time ago who I am and where I came from.  For as long I can remember, My Grandma Terry told me that I was different but that I was just like everyone else.  Different in the sense that I had two wonderful cultures that make me...me.  And the same as everyone else because at the time, even though there weren't very many others (and I mean, HARDLY any others) that were mixed like me didn't mean that I wasn't capable of doing amazing things.
I love my Grandma so much.  She was one of the few people who really accepted me and thought I was beautiful.  And I wasn't beautiful just because I was her Grand-daughter, but because of my heritage too.  My  Grandma is one of those rare people who is so incredibly accepting of everyone.  And I mean, EVERYONE.  I have so many aunts, uncles, cousins, and grand-parents because once she lets you in, you're family.  I'm the only kid I know that has 11 grandparents.  Anyways, I'm getting carried away.
Grandma Terry began teaching me at a very young age about Black Heritage.  And she didn't do it by showing me rap videos or things that many of us now associate with Black culture.  She told me all about the wonderful things that Black people had accomplished over the past two-hundred years.  From Harriet Tubman and Fredrick Douglas to Madame CJ Walker and Thurgood Marshall.  She taught me that Martin Luther King, Jr. was not just a man with a dream, but a man who had hope and worked to make that dream a reality.
All growing up, I felt like I had to prove myself in order to be recognized as a black person.  I had wear my hair a certain way, wear certain clothes and talk a certain way.  I look back and feel ashamed at who I thought a black person needed to be.
Some years ago, my Aunt Angie passed away and though I didn't know her for very long, I cherish the examples she set.  She exemplified a brilliant and beautiful black woman.  A woman who holds integrity and knows her divine nature.  My Aunt Angie rejoiced in being a daughter of God.  My memory of her shines bright as woman who loved who she was, where she came from, and what she accomplished as a wife and mother.
My hope for the upcoming generations, and even many of the people of mine, is that they KNOW who they are, regardless of ethnicity. That they appreciate the sacrifices made for them and the hardships that their ancestors endured.  But most of all, that they don't take for granted the foundation that was built for them.  That they take advantage of all that has been provided for them and do something great.  Do something that lets those that came before us would be proud of.  Because all that they did, they didn't do it for themselves.  They did it for us.
I'm so grateful for the women in my life that nurtured and guided me.  And taught me these incredibly valuable lessons even when I was too hard-headed to listen.
I am a Black woman and I could never be ashamed of that.