DAD, I will never forget that day when I took off my Ethiopian chain and put it around your neck before you took your last breath to exodus from this earth. You were a loving father and a caring and compassionate husband who raised us well in your bourgeois household that made us wonder why the people in the ghetto were suffering and we were not with chauffeurs and servants. Then finally, we grew our locks in Brooklyn, New York, to rebel against the social stratification of the lower class and the under class while the rich were getting richer... and the poor, poorer. This led us to believe that the only way we could rebel against the manner in which society judged and ostracized the underprivileged, was to identify with a way of life that opposed black and White down-pression. We were happy then. And we are happy now, knowing that we chose a righteous spiritual path for us and your grandchildren. That day when I patted those tiny locks scattered on your head (hair left after chemotherapy) that you told mom "not to cut because you were going to your Father in that manner ," confirmed that you were in agreement with our decision in astafrians.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Jun 2013 21:28:27 +0000
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