I eventually learned that the scowl that we shared was rooted in a fortitude that would never allow my knees to bend.
Back in the day, my Mother told me about an incident that colored her perspective, one that gave me pause.
“We had to walk in groups, it would be me and Mae Francis and some of the other kids.
And we would walk to school together.
When we’d get halfway there, the White kids would get together start throwing rocks from across the street and calling us out of our names.”
“But we kept on…” she said.
Years later, I was cornered in a classroom by a middle school teacher who told me that I was nothing but a hoodlum in training as she questioned why I was in her school in the first place?
An exchange that would be repeated throughout my academic career.
But like my Momma, “I kept on.”
She told me to NEVER hang my head to any man for as long as I had breath in my lungs.
She who wielded knees that would never bend – bequeathed me the same.
I sing your praises Momma, because through you I have a segue to God’s face – that redemptive grace that an ugly world could not vanquish.
When I inspire souls in different parts of the globe, I don’t tip my hat, but I instead think of you.
I reflect your light.
I thank you for the gifts of heroism and the honor of being your son.
Happy Mother’s Day Momma, I love you!