Escaped clinical depression by traveling the deserted country roads between Memphis, Tennessee, Jonesboro, Arkansas, and Langston, Oklahoma. Somewhere between Jonesboro and Langston recaptured my emotional footing and healing.
Somehow, miles and miles of asphalt always renews and rejuvenates me.
Required an extra booster shot of adrenalin as I have been preoccupied with my husband’s recent health malady. Poor baby. Nick has seen his share of illnesses, emergency room visits, and innumerable doctor appointments throughout this year. Can’t wait for a full restoration of his health so that his legendary flirty smiles and some of his devilish antics that he is widely known for can resume!
Nevertheless, in the foreground saw the silhouette of Langston University. Inexplicably, as I was passing this campus, something was beckoning me unto its premises. Exerted lots of “elbow grease” and vainly tried to resist the urge that was summoning me to detour. Frankly, time did not permit me to accommodate an unplanned sightseeing excursion, but seemingly could not fight the incredible force that was compelling me to delay the continuation of my trip.
Was God sending me a premonitory signal? Or, was the devil thwarting my travel plans once again?
Like a sinner, yielded to temptation.
Walked trance-like across the sprawling campus of this historically black university and slowly inhaled my surroundings’ “negritude.” Similarly to a drum major, stepped with mile-high precision as I sauntered across the campus while marveling its pristine beauty. Envisioned past and current black pioneers and warriors tackling seen and unseen challenges to ensure the survivability of this jewel. Quietly, heralded their successes!
Upon reading the plaque which noted the historical beginnings and significance of this educational institution, released an invisible tear. Imagined black neophytes ignoring political hardships and economic risk factors plus societal rigmarole when they established this landmark university in 1897. Another mark of their intestinal fortitude and bravery was naming this campus after the adjacent black town, Langston.
Incredible!
Some say that “curiosity kills the cat” but could not leave this “nerve center” without first visiting its namesake. Moseying throughout the town of nearly 700 residents, found humbled homes, abandoned shacks, and a “strip” mall that was literally “stripped” of any commercial development and vitality.
Regardless, after overlooking its anemic economic prowess kept imagining the “negritude” emanating from the black residents who with a cup of grit, a thimble full of sophistication, and with only a boat load of prayers they were able to singlehandedly muster the herculean wherewithal necessary to ensure Langston University’s sustainability for over 116 years! Learned these stalwarts stood mightily against modern-day Goliaths who used every political trick, means, methods, and weapons in trying to dismantle Langston University brick-by-brick.
Noted as I continued my tour of the town that mysteriously I was feeling more and more “negritude” resonating from each citizen that I had met. Registering high on the dignity Richter scale, and comparatively speaking, low in moneyed friends, influence, or access, these black folks and their predecessors towered the “giants” in their era. Concluded that these folks and their elders used the only resource available in their arsenal which was by praying and singing God’s praises from within the pews of their puny, quaint churches that majestically sat on every other corner.
How else could you logically explain how this black institution was able to withstand societal tsunamis that constantly challenged its existence with only several hundred black novices at the helm each with barely two pennies in their pockets? Yet, unbeknownst to outsiders, Langston’s sons and daughters instinctively understood miracles. They surmised that with God’s favor, His blessings, and by leaning on their unwavering faith, plus collectively pooling from their barren pockets, a penny here and pulling a penny from way over there, Langston University would indeed thrive and survive—–and it has!
Halleluiah!
Excitedly, like a kid in a candy store, ended my community “meet and greet” with the first-time introduction to my cousin, Alicia R. Sumlin, who ably serves as a City Council member in Langston.
Sweet!
Triumphantly, the Honorable Sumlin unselfishly dispenses her epic “negritude” dutifully as she balances motherhood, serves as the family’s breadwinner, and trudges in the trenches on behalf of her constituents with distinction. As I exchanged my adieus, proudly marveled at the towering strength pulsating from the capillaries of the family’s matriarch, Juanita Crawford. What a woman!
Had God sent me a premonitory signal?
Of course! He wanted me to witness in Langston another set of “powerful blueprints” emulating from the veins of my family tree so that I could remain empowered and inspired. Wondered if I was being prepared for a tidal wave of assignments in the proverbial “vineyard” which would tether my “negritude.” In advance of these monumental challenges, reckon these “earth angels” were serving as exemplary examples that, regardless of the insurmountable odds stacked against me, I still should plod to my next higher callings without faltering!
Tarrying to my appointment, picturesque Guthrie was only a few miles from historic Langston. Eagerly anticipated meeting Guthrie’s Job Corps’ chief executive officer as Juanita and her brother, Millard House, had equally assured me that adding Priscilla to my networking rolodex would be a coup d’état for business relations and possibly offer future windows of opportunities.
No lie!
In a lickety-split, arrived at the entrance of the Job Corps’ campus and was instantly captivated by the thought-provoking names of several of the streets. Whoever heard of driving down Destiny Drive? How about Diversity Lane? Or, Academy Road? Wow! What a delicious welcome mat! Darn. Who wouldn’t feel compelled to succeed abundantly beyond one’s wildest imagination after being greeted with such powerful subliminal messages?
Yep, this Priscilla-woman must be really special!
Juanita and Millard’s composite of their niece was nothing short of astonishing. According to family folklore, decades ago this adventuresome adolescent had enrolled into the Job Corps program seeking further academic and vocational training. Upon graduation, although life took her to other meteoric horizons, she decided to return to her Job Corps’ roots eventually ascending the managerial ranks to becoming the Center Director in Guthrie.
What a testimony and an amazing fete!
Honored to have met this trailblazer who was truly the embodiment of grace, excellence, charisma, professionalism, and another fine example of someone with an uncompromising “negritude” spirit.
Way to go, Priscilla!
Nearing the homestretch of my last hours in Guthrie, my cousins, Sharon Harris and Joani Brown, provided me with my final taste of homey esprit de corps. Predict that Joani is destined to become an entrepreneurial juggernaut. Embracing the concepts of “negritude,” she has successfully begun the process of building and developing her own child care center.
Meanwhile, while flexing her multi-dimensional muscles as an impressive career employee at the military base, Sharon has lovingly served as a life preserver for several family members whose only alternative would have been immediate placement into the foster system. She is to be commended for her magnanimous gesture, sacrifices, and dedicatory work. Sharon, besides being absolutely amazing, you are literally the personification of “negritude,” too!
Miles and miles of asphalt always renews and rejuvenates me.
As ten hours of monotonous travel between Guthrie and Memphis awaited me, began processing the banquet of thoughts, life’s lessons, indelible impressions, perceptions, and the spiritual gifts gleaned from each of those legendary pioneers, luminaries, and role models.
The looking glass belonging to Sharon, Juanita, Priscilla, Joani, Alicia, Millard, and of the legions of unsung heroes who either toiled on behalf of Langston University or those humbled individuals who dwelled within the Langston community reminded me of my ancestral obligation to always honor, protect, and project my “negritude.”
Additionally, these individuals telepathically communicated never to abandon, postpone, or suspend the illumination of the true meaning of my life’s mission and that puttering or quivering about any misgivings is incongruent to my manifesto!
Lastly, reminded that although displaying “negritude” is high stakes especially to “gatekeepers” who have malevolent intentions or who are cultural amputees, never forget the essence of my lineage’s hard-fought legacies!
Miles and miles of asphalt suddenly shifted my mind to the latest contemptible, ludicrous, morally low, and farce episode which was the termination of my honor roll daughter from her “Christian” school!
My dear readers, it was no accident or mistake when I embedded this universally stereotypical pictorial into today’s column. Pathetically, whenever blacks aren’t afraid to courageously stand on the right side of justice and righteousness, their gestures, their expressions, their words, and their body language becomes negatively depicted, mischaracterized, exaggerated, spoofed, and maligned similarly to this picture.
Also, frequently whenever self-confident, intelligent, and “articulate” blacks momentarily suspend their ingratiating Uncle Tom and Aunt Jemima roles by having the audacity to question “authoritative” figures or even to express an opinion contrary to the status quo, immediately they are deemed as projecting an African warrior disposition, casts as militants, rebel rousers, hell raisers, Malcolm X radicals, trouble makers, socialists, or by other “unmentionable” code words for somebody with an inherent “attitudinal” problem.
Pick your poison, but historically the repercussion is often obliteration, assassination, or elimination!
Unfortunately or fortunately, depending upon your persuasion, my daughter’s former “Christian” school erroneously “branded” my “negritude” derogatorily simply because I had the unmitigated gall to incessantly ask probing questions regarding the veracity of their much touted On-Line Academy program.
Thought that was good parenting—duh!
And, of course, southern black women with “attitude” problems need to be reminded by the “decision makers” to either remain in their “Gone With the Wind” subterfuge places or else…….
Miles and miles of asphalt conjured up memories of when the managerial staff of a famed hotel in St. Augustine, Florida felt that their only remedy for preventing the paranoia surrounding integration of the hotel’s swimming pool during the Civil Right’s era was to pour acid into the water.
The logicalness of that solution was just as asinine and insane as the decision executed at my daughter’s former school which was to “shut down” the entire technology program in order to get rid of “that woman” with the “negritude” attitude!
Seriously?
Hmmmm. Guess George Wallace is still alive and well!
Miles and miles of asphalt allowed me time to applaud the Sharons, the Juanitas, the Priscillas, the Alicias, and the Millards, as well as, the Andreas for not kowtowing to institutional racism by refusing to authentically reflect their “negritude” through our extraordinary talents and attainments regardless of the consequences and outcomes!
Happily, can report that Mantha survived the evilness and is now the “cat’s meow” at her new school. And, happily can report that this writer is still victoriously reflecting her “negritude” in spite of others unresolved racial prejudices, ridiculous psychoses, and personal vindictiveness!
Thank you, Langston!
Very good read
Thank you, sir!