Le' D-ash

Cut Eye Cut Eye Cyaan Cut Mi In Two

Juneteenth

My mom often tells me a few recurring stories these days (apparently one hallmark of the aging process is repetition). One of my favorite stories of hers, bears repeating here. It is the one about when she and her school mate were strolling along a quiet country road in the hills of Clarendon, Jamaica. They were minding their own business, when out of the silence, a shrill voice cackled, “Extraness!” In unison, both girls turned in surprise towards the taunt. The voice, which belonged to the village mouth, Miss Mami Tulani, quickly clarified her outburst. ‘Ah no you mi a talk, Amy’ ( Translation – I am not referring to you Amy) Who then must the catty call be directed at? Clearly it was towards my mom, since her name was not Amy. The woman’s barb was a signal to my mother that she was too ‘extra’ or prideful and designed to take her down a peg

My mom was a child who was ahead of her time. Her dad saw that potential in her, and affectionately nick named her, Lady Van – heir to the throne. His name was Ivanhoe and even though he had no home to call his own or nothing that remotely resembled a throne, he held my mom in high esteem and pride of place. My grandmother also sought to preserve her daughter’s calling. She once chased my mom around her yard with a broomweed switch, for well-nigh an hour, trying to catch her and give her a whipping because she (my mom) had declared, “Mi nah go a no more school.” (Translation – I’m dropping out of school). At one point during the chase, my grandmother declared, “You’re too facety, yu nah go wuk in a nobody house.” (Translation: you are too brainy and feisty to become a domestic worker). My mom was arrested by her mother’s words. She slowed her sprint and succumbed to the pain she heard in her mother’s cry. She allowed my grandmother, breathless and afraid, to catch up with her. My mom often tears up when she recounts this story. But the tears are not because of the sound switching she received from her mom, but rather because she sensed the desperation in her mother’s need to get her precious child back on track and to angle her towards her true calling.

I often think of the pain of our ancestors and the tears they cried as they tucked behind their heart; the latent Promise encoded in their offspring – Their children; their only hope. The visions of love are which propelled mothers and fathers to admonish their offspring to listen and learn, to keep pressing forward despite the hardships endured.

In much the same way, I’m sure Ketanji Brown Jackson was the pride and joy of her parents. Even as they chose for her an African name, they invoked the promise and possibility of ancestral hope. Picture Ketanji’s parents as they swaddled their child in soft cloths and dreamed dreams for their ‘lovely one’. What’s in a name? For some, names are a source of Power and Pride. In many African cultures, it’s no small matter; your name may literally become a self fulfilling prophecy. I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with youths named Confidence and Excellence. Surprisingly it was as if the names were divinely ordained because these children rose to the calling exacted by their names and exuded the self same traits.

People may call you names, call you out of your name, but the name by which you are called by your parents are a badge of honor. Judge Ketanji B may have endured name calling by those who would want to malign or detract from her true worth, but it is readily apparent that she deserves honor and praise because she truly is extraordinary and lovely. To whom will you entrust the precise naming. Naysayers or the truth that belies the falsehoods about race and representation. You be the Judge.

Extraordinary gifts are given by God and the extraness may be sensed by others even when they can’t grasp or put a finger on it. Some may come to love and appreciate it while others will try to throw shades of color at it, wrap you in subtract from it, but, even in the face of rude or crude behavior, extraness like air will rise unhibitedly to the top.

In honor of Juneteenth it’s a good time to put on repeat the stories of our ancestors, to name and re-claim our extraness, our humanity our presence on the planet.