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This is my late Aunt Mary. Today would've been her 83rd birthday. While she's been gone 35 years, she's been a constant influence on me during my entire life. A mini-thread.
She grew up in East Windsor Hill, CT. Yep, a Black family in the country.
My aunt Mary and my mother were the middle of seven kids. They had to fight bigotry every single day. I heard the story of kids bothering one of my aunt's friends and Mary hopped the fence to fight. All of them. Passing out asswhoopings like Black Santa Claus.
When MLK was assassinated, my mother and her siblings were hurt first, enraged later. So, when MLK's birthday wasn't initially recognized as a holiday ( looking at John McCain), she told me to skip school, stay at her house.
I stuttered severely as a kid and was bullied for it, until this convo with my aunt.
"Boy, you're going to become great with words when you are older. For now, let your fists occasionally talk for you"
Not a lie told. Her love and patience guided me. A Black woman's strength.
"Boy, you're going to become great with words when you are older. For now, let your fists occasionally talk for you"
Not a lie told. Her love and patience guided me. A Black woman's strength.
Mary was diagnosed with cancer in 1984. She knew that her time was limited. So, she helped teach me to cook, braid, etc. Most importantly, she showed me that regardless of circumstances, standing up to fight was the right move.
Mary died in November 1986 at the age of 48. Yet, many of her lessons stay with me to this day. For the first 12 years of my life, I had the luxury of her teaching.
Have a big heart, strong will, and never stop fighting. For all of this, I am grateful.
Have a big heart, strong will, and never stop fighting. For all of this, I am grateful.
