You raised your children in a hostile environment.
You found hope and comfort in your Bible.
You worked in places where you were treated unfairly.
You registered your people to vote on your day off.
You provided food for your neighbors when they could no longer pay on credit at Mr. Charlie’s store.
You always walked with dignity and grace wearing fake pearls and owned one fancy dress worn so perfectly just above the knees.
You danced only on special occasions but would hit the juke joint when your whole hood felt a wave of liberation.
You stood firmed when police officers pushed against your raised voice. You even smile when they believed they silenced your roar.
You baked the best pound cake and cooked cornbread on top of the stove.
You worked in your garden making sure that your family would be nourished. You believed in getting food from the land, even if it belonged to your oppressor.
You collected greenback stamps just to get a fan for hot summer days.
You made sweet ice tea and snapped green beans on the front porch creating the first neighborhood watch.
You gave life.
You saw greatness in your children and prayed that they also saw the beauty of themselves.
You never asked for recognition nor did you ever think you were worthy of it. You are.
You dreamed that we may have the right to dream.
You are loved.