She had a Christ like spirit/Unconditional Love For The Children

Mammy, A Tribute

It has always saddened me that Mammy has such negativity attached to her. She will always be a hero to me. I think if the average person could place themselves in her shoes, they would quickly change their opinion of her.

	One of the saddest things about Mammy, is the fact that she was often separated from her own children so she could be more available to the Wife of the plantation owner and her children. Sometimes one of the requirements of being a Mammy was pregnancy, with a due date that coincided with her Mistress's. Mammy was often required to suckle the child...and if she had a particularly mean Mistress, she was expected to put the child of the mistress before her very own child. That must have been heartbreaking. Many people resent the fact that mammy was a so-called house negro, with all the frills of the big house available to her; but the sad truth was, Mammy was on call 24 hours a day. If the children of the big house was ill, Mammy was responsible for sitting up and caring for them all night....Yet breakfast still had to be cooked, clothes had to be washed, and The House still had to be ran...and this extraordinary woman had all that responsibility resting on her strong, broad shoulders. Her critics fail to realize that her strategic position in the big house...afforded her many an opportunity to minister to the needs of the so-called field negroes...especially when they had been whipped. Living in the big house gave her access to the healing oils...and indeed, she often applied the healing oils as she prayed and cried over the victim. Mammy was a wise woman who understood human nature. Her Uncle Tomming tactics..were merely that...survival techniques. It was the skillful way to act in the long run. Mammy was the backbone and life preserver of the plantation. Her compassion and loving kindness were assets appreciated by not only the field hands but indeed the Master & Mistress as well. She loved the children in her care, as though they were her very own. I'm sure many grown-ups have a story to share about the kindness of their Mammy. It is my desire to educate the masses, and see to it that Mammy finds her rightful place in our Rich heritage as Afro-Americans. She is as important to our Race as Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman, and Rosa Parks. In fact whether we like it or not we all have Mammies running through our blood. If we examined the 21st century, we could consider Oprah Winfrey a type of Mammy. Some people would consider this opinion blasphemy, but in my opinion, Oprah offers the very same thing to other cultures that Mammy did.... Love, Understanding...and a big shoulder to cry on. May the spirit of Mammy live forever. cj Comments to Mammy article Hello CJ, I am Caucasian, but truly enjoyed reading the Tribute to Mammy.  I am so sorry that so many do not have the insight to what the word "Mammy" means.   I did not have a Mammy and I am from way down South.  However, we did have some Black ladies working for my mother in her business. They help take care of the children in my mother's business and help around the house.  That was my first introduction to the Afro-American race.  I have some very good feeling about one lady.  What I miss seeing is the original "true" Aunt Jamina. She symbolized to me something warm, friendly and good.  As a small child I could remember my grandmother using pancake mix from Aunt Jamina and I truly miss seeing her. It saddens me to this day when I see a modern version. It is almost like, "Let's forget the "real" Mammy." I would love to make something for a black lady in my daughter's church (she and I are lunch buddies) but I am discouraged for fear of insulting her. As many Afro-Americans do not like "Mammy".  I guess they feel the the white race should embrace Mammy for all she did for them and they resent that.  Which I can understand. Anyway, I just had to write and say what is on my mind. Thanks for "Mammy" - GabsHoney I so enjoyed reading about Mammy.  Our grandmother made my sister and I "Mammy" dolls when we were little and we loved them.  Of course, I named mine Jemima.  They were loved until they were rags. - Jacquie click here for more responses

side-tracked....but shall return

Experiencing writer's block due to sewing obligations. I hope to be back on track soon...will post when I return to daily postings... 
Thanks

Rough side of the mountain

Back in the 90ties..homeless Women were all over the place.  old and middle aged women. When you saw them...you knew, mental illness was lurking near...  I often wondered what situation in life pushed them over the edge.  They became my obsession...I sat down one day and imagined a scenario that would push me over the edge...what would cause them to expose themselves to the rapes and beatings they face daily..I wrote a one woman act....then I took it to the churches. At that time the church was pretty prosperous and had very little compassion for homeless women. I wanted to proke comapassion for them...I wanted the church to realize..."but for the grace of God..there goes I"...Have a listen.

                                  

No...but I am pretty sure I am gonna be one

My Uncle married a floozie...according to the women in my family.
Judgemental chuch ladies should know these things.   my new aunt was jet black and possibly one of the most beautiful ladies I had ever seen. By contrast, my uncle was very light complexioned, shorter than his wife and very quiet. She was tall and elegant and very girlie girl...I first met aunt rose at a family picnic.  she loved my uncle and constantly fussed over him.  at one point...she turned to him and said "what can I get you lover?" You could hear a pin drop...All the the ladies eyed each other with knowing looks...while the men muttered things like "you never call me lover'...one of my aunts answered...when you become one...I'll call you one...lol...that laughter broke the tension and we all went back to having a good time.
on occasion I would visit aunt rose.  she always made me welcome and loved to polish my nails...give me bubble baths and pose me like a beautiful model....(she would love honey boo boo...lol) not so much her Honey's mama...
One day I was sitting in aunt rose's bathtub, covered with bubbles.  She was in the mirror combing her hair..I asked her why did my aunts call her a floozie? She asked me, did I know what a floozie was?  I said..No...but I am pretty sure I am  gonna be one...rofl...As far as I was concerned, a floozie was a woman who loved to look good and smell good for her man...it worked for aunt Rose.  she and my uncle grew old together...and she still called him lover.
That story always reminds me of lady missionaries insisting on putting bras on african women. Like my judgemental aunts, these lady missionaries were dirtying up something that was very natural and innocent to african women. heck I hate to wear a bra in airconditioning...imagine wearing one when the temperture is always in the 100(s) I always wanted to scream at them and say:
" missionary ladies, instead of covering the women...try covering the filthy hearts of your men...who look upon these women...in lust....

he only does it cuz he likes you....

I spent most weekends with my aunt.  Looking back now, I realize that was my mother's feeble attempt to protect me from abuse.
My aunt always sent me to Puglia's supermarket a few blocks away  I dreaded those walks to Puglia's because I had to pass this bunch of guys who loved to hang around and cat call.  This one particular guy would see me coming and place his knees together and walk funny.  that was his way of mocking my knocked knees. 
 I was so knocked kneed, if I ever attempted to run...those knees would flip me over...lol..I would feel so bad when he did that and would always cry secretly.
Who knew those weekly incidents would become a memory that would  dominate my entire life?  I spent so many years trying to force those kees apart when walking...I invented an even funnier looking walk....lol.  To this very day I dread walking down the street, because afterall, everybody has nothing better to do than watch my knocked-knees and judge me.
I try to be conscioous of things I say to a child in their formative years. We develop habits or an idiosyncrasy based on what we hear or experience, when we are very young.
 Some of those experiences can cause  us to be the way we are.  Why does she act that way.../? Why did he say that? Why did that guy mock my knocked knees? Why do I care? lol
My aunt found me crying one day.  I finally told her the story of the mocking.  Oh baby, I would not worry so much about that..."he just does it because he likes you".....well...Mr Cassanova has a funny way of showing it....Maybe I should show my affection for him...by punching his lights out....I jest, but that is how a whole lot of guys learned to show theirs....yep...from watching daddy  punch mama's lights out.......sad...

Might I bother you for small amounts of currency

Buddy Red was one of many neighborhood drunks...
We cut to the chase back then...hobo, drunkard...we did not play...except when we did....those ocassions were reserved for people with lots to hide. For instance, if a guy was a known rascal, wife beater, and womanizer...yet had standing and influence in the community...he was known as Joe citizen....
I prefer the Buddy Reds of the world...drunks and the innocence of youth....does not lie.
Buddy Red was quite a character.  like all drunks, he begged for wine money, but,  buddy red gave you more bang for your buck.  he tipped his ever present, quite in need of a steam....derby.  he gestured a curtsy and then " pardon me madam, might I bother you for small amounts of currency?''....translation: brother can you spare a dime?...or in the white community..'I'll gladly pay you Tuesday...for a hamburger today..."...rofl...a bum is a bum is a bum.....and trust me....popeye's rival was not buying a hamburger....he had to be drinking wine..fool kept messing with popeye..who could clearly beat him up...afer he ate all of his veggies....lol
If buddy red managed to get a few pennies, nickels and quarters...he would reward a lady by slobbering on her hand under the guise of a pathetic kiss....not I~!~....those purple lips were never gonna meet my hand...my fist...maybe....hand....never gonna happen....
I miss buddy Red...I heard he perished in one of the hurricanes....Look in on your family drunks during Hurricanes and such....Animals, children, old people...and drunks...are the most vulnerable....
After buddy red received what he could from me...he would announce he was off to pick edibles from his garden.  that was my cue to remind him...not only did he not have a garden...he did not have a home...lol...he would always reply" madam the WORLD... is my garden. I would chuckle because the lady across the street with the garden....was waiting, broom in hand...to rock his WORLD....lol

The beat goes on

Its entirely possible to endure hardship...yet totally function in life...afterall...the name of the game is "appear normal"...there was no room for exploration of little lives...people suspect stuff....but don't make waves was the rule.  so they intervened...in their own way..thus the chiffon dress.
On the night of our recital we sang 3 songs....Dream (and it might come true) Sayounara(Japanese Goodbye) and "The Lulabye of Broadway"...I still love those songs...Music and I became acquainted quite early.
My mother loved playing games on the radio.  she preferred the white stations because they had sponsors that gave them stuff for prizes. My job was to listen and record the Top 10.  I was probably the only person in the hood' who knew who spiral staircase was...(more today than yesterday) I knew all of the white groups and was grateful for the opportunity to cry listening to Bobby Goldsboro sing 'honey I miss you"...lol
One week my mother won a 100% human hair wig. That prize was this little ugly duckling's dream. I never felt pretty.  Besides the commercials of gorgeous blondes to compare myself to....and always felt lacking....I suffered from shyness (hidden  in a boisterousness  facade because it kept people at bay) and because of my secret...I had very low self esteem and a sense of helplessness.
Well this 100% human hair wig was about to change all of that. wigs were uncomfy, hot and stiff back then...but that would not keep me from my new found beauty....Well that did not last long.  I spent most of my time running form little boys determined to pull it off of my head....oh well....my 15 minutes of fame..lasted about 2 days...to be cont'd

whatever will be....

 Sometimes I wish I could re-wind my life and undo stuff.  For those who don't know my background..take this LINK
 On the night of the recital, I had to go on stage and  thank the audience for coming and wish them an enjoyable evening.  The curtain opened...I walked out..and they closed behind me.  After my speech, I bowed and walked back to the curtains expecting them to open.  When they did not open, I began fishing frantically for an opening...After awkward moments, the audience began to laugh.  The more they lauhed, the more frantic I became...the more frantic I became, the more they laughed. I was on the verge of tears, but  was suddenly overcome with laughter....I turned to the audience and joined in the laughter....
I was in third grade, at a very traumatic point of my short life...In spite of all of that...I can say without a doubt....My comedy career was born.....on that stage, that night....I became addicted to response from an audience...
to be cont'd............

what if
a journey thru the psyche of cjeureka...

Its not a good habit to wonder what could have 

been....besides being a total.... waste of time (the past is 

gone...) Que sera...sera........God has allowed 

it...still...when your destiny is changed....your will, 

violated...what if' is my pandora's box.

I was a very smart elementary school student.  I was also 

granted much favor at an early age.  I was always called on 

to break the graham cracker on the line "total genius i tell 

ya"...lol...

apparently, I could sing...In third grade they put me in the
choir...We had a recital coming and I did not have the 

yellow chiffon dress...nor the cash...I did however. have a 

sewing mama...and 2 teachers who asolutely adored me...my 

early mentors Ms cannon and Ms Leonard...They got together 

with mama, bought fabric and mama made my fat knocked kneed, 

awarkward, yet outgoing,  self...a drop dead awesome dress...

Tho I received my GED...I continued learning...Got an Office 

manager certificate from a tech college...2 years...had to 

learn all current computers and software...aced it...I was a lousy 

typist...and soon discovered I did not play well with 

others.   I learned early, it was better if I worked for 

myself.  Easily distracted...I work best when I can 

multi-task.......Attended Camron U in Lawton 

OK...sociology major...history minor....stuck around 2 

semesters...then moved back to New Orleans..met my soldier 

at Fort Sill...married him................to be cont'd