It was an idea that began in high school I think, when I learned of the Soweto uprising, which happened in June 1976, after my freshman year. The idea that a place existed on Earth where white people were allowed to mow down black people, just for being black, completely jolted me. Much of my world at that point had been a jumble of black people and white people - the South is good like that - but my family in particular, and at that time, my life in particular. And to think that that place of all places existed in Africa, the one place where people are well, supposed to be black ... I couldn't get it. Maybe I thought, I could go there and tell them all the cool things about black people and being black - more information, that's all. Maybe calm some people down, like I had done many times before in my own life... maybe? Maybe that's a big damn job. A lot of people. With guns and tanks. So I folded up the event in my mind, and went to the high school dance that night, or the basketball game, or the house party, and danced, or cheered or drank. But everything looked a little different after that. A little more fragile.
My friend Colleen Jamaican-from-New-York observed about Boston once, you know, some black folks here just don't seem proud to be black. In Atlanta, black folks are proud to be black. Damn right, its about African America's home town. I just kept peering around. What would it be like in a place where everybody was black, kinda like here, but you were ashamed of it? How much power does it take for a small group that looks like me to do that to a group that runs the place? What would you do with that power? what for? Can you just turn it off, say no thank you? And if you wanted to, how would you? Suddenly I felt ashamed. South Africa - the concept of South Africa - was blowing my mind. I was 18. That concept of South Africa had 18 years to go.
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