“A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots,” said the revolutionary Marcus Garvey. History is fundamental to every individual’s development of self; it can be that missing piece of the puzzle needed in order to authenticate a part of his or her identity. The word history in itself can already be broken down into: his-story, indicating that it’s the telling of somebody’s story. As an Afro-Latina, my identity has always been a question mark, a question even for myself. From an early age, I noticed that people appeared to gawk when I walked alongside my mother or my grandmother. Only noticing the difference in the color of our melanin, as though it was ludicrous for us to be of the same kin. The “Afro” in Afro-Latina was lost on me. It has been through readings and films like Roots, that I have come to identify with the origin of my roots and bequeathed me with great dignity in the conquests of my ancestors.
It was always evident to me how much of the cultural outcast I was in a vast majority of social settings. I was looked upon as a rare entity on the playground, surrounded by namely Hispanics and white people. Year after year, I was forced to pick who I identified myself as racially on standardized tests or registration. With my mother, I was Hispanic like her, but with my father I was African-American, period. As I grew older, I was dumbfounded as to which option to pick out of: Hispanic or Latino, White (but not Hispanic or Latino), Black or African-American (but not Hispanic or Latino), Asian (but not Hispanic or Latino), Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander (but not Hispanic or Latino), American Indian or Alaska Native (but not Hispanic or Latino, or Two or More Races (but not Hispanic or Latino). At the crossroads, I normally chose not to identify; it felt as though I would have solidified my identity as one or the other and resulted in leaving a piece of my heritage in the dark.
As I got into my adolescent years, I began to be surrounded by more representation of African-Americans and emerged into the culture. My complexion may have reflected African-American, but I became faced with something new. “What are you mixed with?” began to be the question I was asked in mere seconds, during introductions. I am the “mixed girl,” sought for my good hair and exotic background, but not for my charming personality or comical banter. It’s presumed that because of my race, that I am put on a pedestal, that I consider myself better than the average black girl. It wasn’t until I started surrounding myself with friends that were of many different nationalities, that I grew to get a greater sense of pride in my African roots. Unlike in the movie Roots, where it was adamant to reiterate who his or her ancestors were, even though they might not ever come face to face. I observed the dynamics within my friend’s families. Just like in Roots, they still kept true to their rituals from home and took great pride in their homage. Seeing all this, encouraged and inspired me to seek out who my people were and what they had done for me to form my own dignity upon.
Although the deeds of Hispanics have been present in a majority of my history books, I had only surface value of what African-Americans had contributed to America. I nose-dived into time periods like the slave age and the civil rights movement, but I was always drawn to the livelihoods of slaves. Roots provides a realistic example of the day and age of a slave. Slaves were dehumanized and forced to give up their self-identity just to stay alive. Many slaves, like The Fiddler and Thomas Jr., maintained the ideology that freedom was merely an idea, a goal even, but not attainable. Occasionally, the slaves would come into contact with a free African-American, a reminder of a life without “Massah.” For some that was enough, for others it emblazoned a fire within to actively seek freedom. This fire is what propelled people, like Harriet Tubman and Robert Smalls, to overcome their fears and ferociously seek his or her own freedom. How could I merely just go through life and not attain any accomplishments with ancestors who fought so hard for me to have these opportunities? Roots undeniably shows the struggles of the heroines that laid the foundation for me to prosper from. Storytellings like Roots, are able to inform and remind everyone that America hasn’t always been the land of the free.
Without examples like Roots, I would never have been able to develop the connection that I feel with my ancestors for sacrificing and persevering for their freedom. As a child, I was in the dark about the self-worth that I should have held when identifying as part African-American. It was normal for people to see skin color first when my mother and I appeared before them. During my developmental years, I had no idea what the true meaning of being an “Afro-Latina” was. History is ultimately the mixture of each one of our ancestor’s stories compiled together. Without knowing your history, can you truly say that you know yourself?
Jazmyn Proctor 