What's My Name?

NIGGERS! I love my Black race to death. We are, if not the most, one of the most diverse of all races. We come from one background and have been looked down upon throughout history. At the same time we have played apart of that same history repeatedly. There are several events where my people have played a role in the results. We continue to progress and gain even more status.
Even though we've made progress, mentally we seem stuck in neutral. By stuck I mean, constantly demanding respect from the world and using the past as the basis for the demand. When I say we I don't mean the collective population but in the general sense. While dwelling on the negative, we're loosing touch with the origins, the little bit that we do have. NIGGA! Now that we have more freedom to speak, we want to speak on times long gone.
The race is mostly disconnected from it's roots, most African-Americans cannot trace their heritage beyond slavery if they can get that far. That's not always reliable due to rape and disbanding of slaves. Very few, if any, can claim to be full blooded African. But instead of embracing a heritage lost, many shun that which is lost. The lifestyle that was is now lost in translation as the race seeks its identity as it tries to shed the past. JIGGA BOO!
I've heard people ask what happened to the Black family, and why is the value of the two parent home falling with African-Americans. The answer is that it has been ingrained in us. Look through your own family tree to see the presence of brokeness. Look at how our families were torn apart and sewn together for reasons to satisfy slave owners. Not only that how our women were look upon as sexual objects or toys for simple sexual enjoyment. Imagine how it feels to see the mother of the family taken from the home to be used to provide pleasure for the owner or another; think of what that does to the perception of the family.
I ask why oh why are my people so hell bent on changing that which will not go away. Why are my people trying to change what has become our history, our ugly, disfigured history. I'm not saying that we have to lie down and be spit upon, but we have to come to terms that what we were is what makes us who we are. I've heard people say that they don't regret their decisions for they made them stronger. You must forgive the sins committed against you and see how they made your blessings come. Is that not apart of the Lord's Prayer? COON!
Where I seem critical of my people, it's only when I see them going the extra mile fore one reason or another. It's that extra that has become prevalent in the culture. Where there is a desire to become a part of the American culture, there is a desire to remain separate. The lingo, music, lifestyle, etc are becoming more and more imprinted in the fabric of the delicate fiber. Sometimes I believe it's not because we're being so accepted but because we are being looked down upon for some the antics that become celebrated in our community. At the same time I feel honored because just like every other culture, we're bringing our share to the American lifestyle. I'm torn as to what to accept and what to deny. Nonetheless, I am never ashamed or embarrassed.
My people are not the traditional immigrants; matter of fact, they are not immigrants at all. We bring our creativity to the world for we were robbed of our origins. We have created a new history from a nightmare. That nightmare cannot and will not die. I am not ignorant nor the most intelligent but understanding. This NIGGER has an appreciation for those that fought for my opportunities. Those JIGGA BOOS have waded the high tide of an oppressive body. So they can continue to call me a NIGGA but they will never, ever stop me or slow me down.
Words bring me no ill will or displeasure only actions. You?

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