The Statue of Liberty provides a lesson in Black History~a hoax

Just in case you receive this, it seems unbelievable that anyone would need to falsify information about our black culture but this happens quite often. Below is a detailed breakdown of this document...the author did go through a lot of work though to make this subject sound academically analysed...
http://www.snopes.com/history/american/liberty.asp


A Lesson in Black History

The Statue of Liberty

It is hard to believe that after my many years of schooling (secondary and
post) the following facts about the Statue of Liberty were never taught:

Hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of people including myself have visited
the Statue of Liberty over the years but yet I'm unable to find one person who
knows the true history behind the Statue...amazing!

Yes, amazing that so much important Black history (such as this) is hidden from
us (Black and White). What makes this even worse is the fact that the current
twist on history perpetuates and promotes white supremacy at the expense of
Black Pride!

During my visit to France I saw the original Statue of Liberty. However, there
was a difference...the statue in France is BLACK!!!!!!

"Ya learn something new everyday!"

The Statue of Liberty was originally a Black woman. But, as memory serves, it
was because the model was Black. In a book called "The Journey of The Songhai
People," as Dr. Jim Haskins (a member of the National Education Advisory
Committee of the Liberty-Ellis Island Committee, professor of English at the University of
Florida, and prolific Black author, points out that is what stimulated the
original idea for that 151 foot statue in the harbor. He says that the idea for
the creation of the statue initially was to acknowledge the part that Black soldiers played in the
ending of Black African Bondage in the United States.

It was created in the mind of the French historian Edourd de Laboulaye, Chairman
of the French Anti-Slavery Society, who, together with sculptor Frederic Auguste
Bartholdi, proposed to the French government that the people of France present
to the people of the United States through the American Abolitionist Society, the gift of a
Statue of Liberty in recognition of the fact that Black soldiers won the Civil
War in the United States. It was widely known then that it was Black Soldiers
who played the pivotal role in winning the war, and this gift would be a
tribute to their prowess.

Suzanne Nakasian, director of the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island Foundations'
National Ethnic Campaign said that the Black Americans' direct connection to
Lady Liberty is unknown to the majority of Americans, BLACK or WHITE.

When the statue was presented to the US. Minister to France in 1884, it is said
that he remonstrated that the dominant view of the broken shackles would be
offensive to the U.S. South because the statue was a reminder of Blacks winning
their freedom. It was a reminder to a beaten South of the ones who caused their defeat, their
despised former captives.

Documents of Proof:

(1.) You may go and see the original model of the Statue of Liberty, with the
broken chains at her feet and in her left hand. Go to the Museum of the City of
NY, Fifth Avenue and 103rd Street (212) 534-1672 or call the same number and
dial ext. 208 and speak to Peter Simmons and he can send you some documentation.

(2.) Check with the N.Y. Times magazine, part II May 18, 1986.

(3.) The dark original face of the Statue of Liberty can be seen in the N.Y.
Post June 17, 1986, also the Post stated the reason for the broken chains at her
feet.

(4.) Finally, you may check with the French Mission or the French Embassy at the
U.N. or in Washington, D.C.and ask for some original French material on the
Statue of Liberty, including the Bartholdi original model. You can call (202) 944-6060 or 6400.

Please pass this information along! Be sure to send it to people with children!
Open a dialog and discuss it with your friends! Let this be the beginning of
your quest for the Truth about American History past and present!

Empower Yourself, Your Family and Your Community!

Gravitational Genealogy

While studying the solar system, I began to ponder the mystery of the human life cycle in relationship with the universe. It seems amazing to me that however one wishes to believe how the solar system was created, the Earth possesses an undeniable and miraculous ability to be the only planet which after billions of years has sustainable life. And not just any kind of life, a thinking, reasoning, spiritual and everlasting existence.
Space is inevitably without boundary, no matter how far man attempts to stretch technology with satellites and space missiles, he is unable to unlock the secrets of this galaxy in totality. Not to mention how many vast, newly forming galaxies are being developed as we live out our lives. So here's my revelation theory to the human life cycle.
Back in 1996, all I had ever known was the rarity of our five-generation family. There was my great grandmother, her daughter, my mother, me and at the time, my son. So let's suppose that back in 1899, my great grandmother's birth was the equivalent to the solar nebula of our family's genera. As our galaxy maintains a swirling, gravitational pull of the planets against the Sun, so our family increased with age. Each generation started a new planetary orbit around my great-grandmother and new births (children) were as moons around each planet where at the time of 1996, we had our Sun and four gravitational planets or life-cycles. So imagine the life of the planetary system if anything ever happened to our Sun? Every planet with a rotating axis of purpose and functionality no longer is held to the dominion of its galaxy. In order for the universe to survive, there would be a need for an immediate, appointed transfer of energy to a new, rejuvenated Sun to hold the gravitational pull for the next era.
When my great-grandmother passed of natural causes in 1996, my grandmother immediately passed two weeks later due to cancer. In a matter of weeks, my family had lost two separate energy sources or stars while my mother was in no condition to take over as position of the Sun, due to obvious grief, however each planetary equivalent and its satellites needed our orbits to be pulled back into synchronization for universal strength. For a period of some years, our family lost its gravitational pull.
Now of course every "gravitational genealogy" praxis appears unique in physical matter and mechanics, however universally, I think as humans, we act in a similar manner when we loose that member of the family that acts as the unit's "Sun". The survival instinct of the family unit ultimately depends on the posthaste preparation of replacing this necessary position. Without this center, most families lose touch with the other members (planets and moons) almost immediately. In many cases, if you lose a monumental Sun there may need to be an interchange or cohesion between dueling forces (siblings in most cases). Regardless of the energy source, without someone to pull it all together, the others go spinning out of orbit, losing touch with their galaxy (descendants) and planetary bodies (current relatives) creating the demise of the solar system (family).
Which leads to the next theory...does the "Sun" return to the universe (Heaven?) after passing...I'll leave that for another discussion but wouldn't that make the universe even more precious, everlasting and explain the beauty of Heavenly bodies?
In closing, losing a major member of your family is devastating. The survival of each of our separate galaxies depends on the resilience of surviving members to replace its power source. Weak systems fight with dwindling energies by struggling for control (life insurance, the estate and forgetting to carry on the dying star's ancestral memory). It is mandatory to keep order and peace, remembering that the survival of your universe is vital to continue each of our destined Sun's existence (memory) while here on Earth. Realistically, isn't the universe (life) chaotic on its own?
Consequently, feel free to banish aides of destruction (renegade comets) to your solar system into parabola as necessary...this includes pesky ex's and twice removed relatives. :-)

The joy of winning...

Mom loved her card games and gambling and although I don't know where she got the fever, I know it gave her joy. When computer software came with several versions of solitaire, you couldn't get her off of the computer. She loved bid whist, scratch tickets, the dog track, horse races and when Blackhawk and Central City opened up in the Colorado Hills, she could disappear for hours. She had so much fun winning, and when she won comps in restaurants, she would take us along and we could invite our friends. A couple of times, she let some people we didn't even know join us. She loved sharing the winning feeling and even though I wasn't a fan of gambling and what it represented, when she found out she was sick, she still tried with all her strength to make it to those hills. The day she had to physically let it go because her body lacked in energy, I think she began to lose her will because the thrill of the trip gave her life meaning and the anticipation of winning was exciting. The lights, the environment, the clinging of the coins, the other players, all represented the big pay back. But what if that is what life is? A series of games, experiences, challenges, where the object is to win some, lose some...we're all in this big world together hoping to get the shot at making it big and that is what keeps us going. Big doesn't have to be a cash prize, it could be whatever your heart desires and your willingness to lay your bid on the line to achieve the kitty.
I know the place where she exists in spirit is the big pay back...winnings beyond comprehension and a prize too large for one to hold. And after seven years, I know she's still watching over us all, guiding us towards our individual jackpots and hopefully, we'll learn to pay our blessings forward...to me, that is the true joy of winning on a day in the remembrance of a life that only exists in memory...R.I.P. Mom and thank you for showering us with protection, riches and blessings from above where no longer do we wonder how and why, we just say, 'thank you'.

Disturbing 'talent'...

Although this isn't really inspiring, I've had this series of experiences a couple of times and don't really know what to do with this energy so I figured it's something I'm supposed to write about.
On May 17th, I was returning a book from my classes for a refund and needed something to fill the box with so the book wouldn't shift around. I had these old Entertainment Weekly magazines that I'd never looked at so I decided what better way to recycle them? I started ripping pages, crumbling them and tossing them into the box until I got to this article. I notice a picture of Gary Coleman under the heading of deaths and I'm like, "Oh my God, Gary Coleman's dead and this is the best picture they could find?" However, the current day is in May, the article was from a January edition and if you look to the left, his topic is under 'Arrested'. For some reason, I finished tearing pages from this edition and kept it. While watching an episode on Boondocks 11 days later, a caption popped up in remembrance of his passing May 28th.
That same week, I was putting in a Netflix order online and had this haunting urge to rent 'Blue Velvet'. Now if you've ever seen this macabre movie, it's not the kind of movie you want to revisit unless you're in a seriously dark mood so I watched 'Requiem to a Dream' instead. (:-), I'm serious!) Sunday, May 30th, we received a delivered edition of 'The Sun' newspaper because Demetrius wanted to get the news in paper form and this was our first copy since he ordered it. Looking at the first page, I scrolled down to the very bottom and with a small picture and a few lines was the memorial of Dennis Hopper, who starred in the grim tell, where I had unknowingly heard that he passed away in Venice, CA as well.
However, my most frightening experience was last year. Although my son no longer has his Brotherlocks, I was working on retightening his hair for the last time in early Summer 2009. If anyone knows my son, they will know that ever since he could walk, he (with the help of my Mom~R.I.P.) was the most loyal fan that Michael Jackson could ever have. We were watching a VHS (yes, not DVD!) of Moonwalker and it was definitely seeing it's last days. I had asked Martell why didn't he just break down and buy the DVD and he said because it wasn't available; he'd tried the year before. So I told him to do a search again this year because if anything ever happened, "to that boy, you'll never get a copy". So we ordered it and he died 6 days later. Puzzling even more so, there was this killer rain storm the moment I heard it~it was a force like how he portrayed his videos~I could almost hear that 'scream' that he used to do with chaotic winds. I remember the rains flooding I-25 and Colorado BLVD in like minutes and then as quickly as it blew in, it left with a strange calm.
And finally (yes, this is all just within a few weeks), my sister calls me to tell me that African Story Teller Opalanga Pugh died on June 5 ( http://www.essence.com/news/hot_topics_4/opalanga_pugh_professional_storyteller_d.php ), and had I heard so I could relay the info to a friend of mine who went to college with her. After chatting for about 15 minutes, I hung up the phone to dial my friend and her name popped on caller I.D. So I was like, "Hi...and I guess you know that I know why you are calling me?" And she answered, "To tell you Opalanga passed away?" and I said, "That's right because of course my sister was worried that you didn't know so now that we've all tele-communicated...", and she ended with, "Alrighty then? That's basically all I had called you to inform you about." I finished with, "Ok, you take care then...and thanks for the connection."
As Forest Gump quoted, "And that's all I have to say about that..."
'Chelle

The Freedom of Locs!

For a period of around 7 or 8 years, I did my best to find ways to save up and travel and least once every other year. With each trip, be it a cruise to the islands, Cancun or the sunny beaches of Florida, they all had one thing in common...the existence of my wig or weave. So here I would go getting to my destination with my cute little sarongs, colorful bathing suits and various summer wear and as soon as I would approach the beach or swimming pool, I had to dress down like a tomboy because I was gettin' in that water! But that meant I either had to wear a bandanna and bob around to not wet my tracks or take off the wig and put on a cap or wrap of some kind. I was constantly in disguise.
When I was blessed with an opportunity to go to Hawaii however, I had just had my weave for a little over a year and man oh man, was my trip altogether different. I would wake up, put on my cute outfits, take to walking around and make my way to the beach and that was the real test. When I could lay on my towel, get up and run to the water and jump in? Wow! It was like, so this is VACATION?! No inhibitions, just like all the other happy tourists around me. I didn't have to protect my doo because it was what it was...natural.

Hairpocrisy could be defined as...

a pretense of having some desirable or publicly approved attitude about your natural hair through society's negative perception of its nappiness.
There was a time when I actually believed that I had straight, long hair without snag and acceptable to all of society. But there was so much deception that had been planted into my head for as far back as I could remember.
Going through school, participation in gym, swimming or any sport that would disable the press and curl that took forever to process was definitely a deterrent and for that fact only. I knew that once I came up from the first plunge, my hair would take on a totally new look~and it wasn't straight.
For the last 20 years, I sported so many different styles and hair colors, photos can't even explain. Many of them, I learned to do on my own and the mind altering truth was when I received compliments of how beautiful "my hair" was. I had the response down too. Of course it's mine, I bought it! But I needed more once I turned 40 and with the help of my younger sister (who was also going through the same struggle) we discovered Sisterlocks. Now, I am a certified trainee to retighten Sisterlocks and my sister, son and myself are indebted to the process. My niece, after almost two years, is finally taking the plunge as well. Sisterlocks is the most natural locking process available and I haven't used any type of hair grease, oily moisturizers or harmful ingredients on my scalp since. My natural hair is a way of life now and I'm more confident however, there is a stigma that lies with locks. My son feels it more than I due to its relation to drugs, criminal behavior and threatening behavior of black men whose "dread locked hair" is culturally stereotyped in addition to black skin.
At this point however, locks will just have to be reckoned with as not a personality trait and more in line with a choice to wear natural hair...I'll never put another chemical, heat treatment or hair addition to prove allegiance to be accepted in society.
http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-286632

How do we know when it's our time?

A week before my 22nd birthday, my father passed away and my world was shattered. But he showed 'signs' of knowing with a desperation to travel to my place in Dallas from Denver for a visit that turned out to be his last.
Seen in this picture is my great grandpa Jarman and my Dad, Norvette Brown. I've included below an excerpt from the story I wrote about this experience.

...Dad had mentioned that he had something important to give to me and wanted to drive down and hand it to me personally. Gladly, I accepted the invitation not knowing much about the condition of his diabetes. His conversation was puzzling as he told me that lately he had been dreaming of little children happily dancing around him. He wanted to talk about a newfound peace that he was experiencing with a burst of life energy allowing for this trip.
In a futile attempt to stop him from driving, I told him that if he didn't feel up to it, I would gladly pay for a bus ticket instead...he refused. His main objective was to drive down so that he could 'see things', so I respected his wishes. That next day as I anxiously waited for a call from Dad, I received a call from a Sheriff in a county line town in Colorado.
The Sheriff showed much concern for my Dad's state of mind as he began explaining that my Dad was disoriented thinking that he was in Texas on his way to visit me. He also told me that they were holding him at the jail because legally he could not drive because his license stated that he was legally blind (due to the diabetes). The anxiety was beginning to show in my voice because I was puzzled as to why my Dad would knowingly break the law...why didn't he take the bus like I had offered?
Not knowing these facts about his failing health, the Sheriff continued stating Dad was lucky to be alive because he had been in a car accident with an 18-wheeler that ran him off the wrong side of the road. Apparently, he had made it as far as New Mexico and out of confusion, he made a turn that sent him back into the direction of Colorado! What kind of quest was Dad going on and why was he not thinking in his right mind?
Surprisingly, the Sheriff agreed to put my Dad on the next bus to Dallas with nothing more than one Panasonic home stereo system with full sized speakers. The next morning at the bus station, I welcomed my nervous, yet excited father from his exhausting ordeal. When we made it to my apartment, Dad seemed antsy and uncomfortable...he had left all of his belongings in his wrecked station wagon (clothing and insulin) so he showered and temporarily wore a robe of mine and I chuckled at the thought of him not even caring he was wearing his daughter's silken, silver bath garment.
That night, he refused to sleep, staring in the distance, rocking back and forth on the couch and knowing he was tired I noticed the condition of his swollen feet...I had never seen gangrene before.
After finally falling asleep on the couch, I slowly crept over to my Dad who was breathing soundly in a deep sleep but I couldn't wake him. When I called the ambulance and told him he was a diabetic, their response was that he was in a diabetic coma, their arrival was immediate and they gave him insulin that he hadn't had since the accident. He responded favorably at the hospital so I decided to go into work. Before I could leave work for the evening, the hospital called and said he had passed away due to complications.
After everything was said and done, I began to analyze chronologically all that initially I couldn't understand before. My Dad's trip was not a visit, it was an appearance of a delusion that overtook his thought process. He knew his time was limited and he ignored the odds and gave it to God. My Dad shouldn't have survived that accident, and he must have met the only Sheriff (which for some reason I never took the information down for this guardian angel) that had the compassion to put a strange man on a bus, no cost to me, towards a destination hundreds of miles away, at the request of someone he didn't even know except through a conversation the phone. I quickly found this type of divine intervention would become the norm in a series of life experiences destined for my future. I believe under God's favor, he gives us a 'grace' period and how merciful is that?