Ruth: Now. . .you taking it all too seriously. You just got strong-willed children and it takes a strong woman like you to keep ‘em in hand.
Mama: They spirited all right, my children. Got to admit they got spirit–
Bennie and Walter. Like this little old plant ain’t never had enough sunshine or nothing –and look at it . . .
Ruth: You . . .sure. . .loves that old thing, don’t you?
Mama: Well, I always wanted me a garden like I used to see at the back of the houses down home. This plant is close as I ever got to having one.
Excerpt from A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry
We have been telling the people that this is the
Eleventh Hour
Now we must go back and tell the people this is the
Hour
And these are things to be considered
Were you living?
What are you doing?
Are you in right relations?
Where is your water?
Know your garden . . .
“We are the ones we have been waiting for . . .”
–The Elders, Hopi Nation , Oraibi ,Arizona
Growing up, our household included my grandmother who was a sharecropper in Arkansas before she migrated to Ohio in the 1940’s. As a consequence of my grandmother’s Indian and African American ancestry, some values such as waiting patiently and vigilantly for the fruition of a goal that are associated with ownership of land and property were a rich part of my childhood experiences. A family tradition that remains a vivid part of my memory stems from my grandmother’s southern heritage: that of gardening, raising chickens and canning fruits and vegetables that were produced from the summer harvest. Because, at a young age, I helped my grandmother, I inherited a kinship with the land and understood seeding time and harvest time. I marveled and watched as tiny seeds planted deep within the earth, were nurtured into the delicious collard and mustard greens that we ate at Sunday dinners. I especially enjoyed the harvest because, from year to year, it would produce different results. Big or small, each harvest depended on factors like weather, attention to soil and other considerations. I learned that, through endurance, all seeds fulfill their purpose and undergo what can be a painful process in order to become rooted and achieve their destiny.
As the nation celebrates Black History Month 2008, my grandmother’s garden is a useful metaphor for reflections on the African American experience. Simply the struggle to grow and become a productive and fruitful citizen in America has been achieved through the nurturing and care of other African Americans. Today’s greatest achievements and endeavors, including Senator Barack Obama’s bid for the highest office in the land, are rooted in the rich soil of our forefathers’ resistance to slavery and nourished by the courage and vision of leaders like Marcus Garvey, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and many others. Take an inventory of colleagues, friends and learners at UI&U, and it’s easy to recognize that the harvest of black achievement is plenteous and fruitful. Yet, no matter how hopeful this inventory appears and regardless of what the future holds for individual leaders like Senator Obama, African Americans, individually and collectively, must still weed out difficulties related to such issues as infertile educational policies, poverty and the decline of our central cities until they are hopefully restored to their pre-integrationist status and productivity. This could mean a Foucaultean nurturing of our own souls. Knowing ourselves has been historically manifest in the collective cultural milieu of African American accomplishment. For example, hip-hop was cultivated from the soil of spirituals, blues, jazz, gospel, and rhythm-and-blues; without a present knowledge of past artists like Marvin Gaye, there could not be the creative intertextuality of mixing and “sampling,” which is part of the foundation of today’s hip-hop artistry. Art, social change and human progress remain intertwined in African American political thought and folk traditions. For instance, when Erykah Badu appears on stage and sings “Back in the Day,” her musical swagger has been watered by the struggles of Angela Davis’ endurance to a cause bigger than herself.
Billie Holiday’s twentieth century truths are still useful and problematic to us in the new millennium. As she sang “Strange Fruit” she prophetically prepared us for hate crimes she witnessed. Another generation faced with these same destructive forces, rallied for the Jena 6 to uproot the seeds of hatred with protest. The erosion of Holiday’s personal life created a similar refrain for budding growth. She needed deliverance from drug addiction, just as today’s communities seek solutions to the drug epidemic. Looking back proves that we have been prepared to go forward. Nationally and globally, African Americans must continue to work hard to till the soil of our souls and await the harvest, no matter how long it delays in coming. We stand on the shoulders of other Africans who resisted for more than 140 years, in order to prepare America for Barack Obama’s arrival. As we continue to move toward a more global society, we realize the complexities of the present African American struggle. African Americans are not a monolithic group, as frequently portrayed in the media, and this generalization results in political and social stratification. Nonetheless, Black History Month functions in many of our African American communities as an opportunity to unite, reflect, and educate children about self-determination and collective growth in the soil of American democracy. Black history also has the potential to develop a more cohesive people. In the words of W.E.B. DuBois, “taking for granted our [African Americans’] best development means the best development for the world.”
