I was born in Shreveport Louisiana in 1964. On my birth certificate I was identified as “colored”.
Two years later after my parents migrated to Chicago, Illinois, my sister was born in 1966. Her birth certificate identified her as “negro”.
My baby sister was born in 1977 in Chicago, Illinois. Her birth certificate identified her as “black”.
Twenty years later in 1997 I was blessed with my daughter. Her birth certificate identified her as an African American.
The labeling of our ethnicity has changed many times over, as if the pigment of our skin had changed. Who are we? No really, I’m serious. Who are we really? Do we know who we are, or do we know who “they” say we are?
I believe that as women of color, women of African decent, this labeling is just one of many issues that separate us as people as well as women. Our differences should empower us as a whole, but instead it deems us as powerless. If we were all the same where would the beauty lie? If we were all the same there would be no need for contribution, no need for change, no desire or space for growth. For what would we grow into if we were all the same?
My sisters and I were born from and raised by the same mother and father yet we are different. We are different in appearance, stature, mindset, ability, wisdom and faith. I have two sisters. One with hazel eyes and reddish brown hair, fair skin and a mind of her own, the other with light brown eyes and thick, long brown hair and a sensitive spirit.
I like to look at other women through the lens of sisterhood, navigating through the experiences of being different, yet finding commonality, support and empowerment.