It’s Black History Month and the theme this year is Proud To Be. I am Proud of everything that makes me Black.
I am proud of my Black Heritage.
I am Proud to be African.
I am proud to be an African Woman.
I am proud of the hospitality of my people.
I am proud of the creativity, the arts, rich culture and music that we have generously given the world which unfortunately are often appropriated without acknowledgement of the Black origin.
I am proud of the contributions of my people to Science and Technology.
I am proud of the exuberant nature of my people and the way we express ourselves with all our body gestures.
I am Proud of the renowned hospitality and welcoming nature of my ancestors.
I am Proud to be a Black African woman.
Africa is the cradle of life, it is the continuent that keeps giving even though they keep exploiting its human and natural resources, my people are resilient and continue to radiate hope.
They say Black is bad and not good enough, yet they refuse to return the beautiful Artefacts they stole from us that today still grace their museums.
They say Black is ugly yet they go under the knife to look like us to copy the very physical attributes they called ugly.
Still we rise because we know, and we know that they know, Black excellence is real, Black is beautiful. in and out.
To forget our history is to assimilate the lies of the colonisers and exploiters.
I know my history and this is why I Am Proud To Be. #HappyBlackHistoryMonth
As part of my celebration of Black History Month 2021 and in keeping with its ‘Theme ‘Proud To Be’ , I recited the poem ‘Africa my Africa’ by David Diop and shared with my work colleagues as a BHM video compililation project. Enjoy!
Africa my Africa – David Diop
Africa my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral Savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this your back that is unbent
This back that never breaks under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying no to the whip under the midday sun?
But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree, young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
springing up patiently, obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.