Not my battle, not my fight.

How often have we heard or said the above statement? At some point in life, some type of conflict has occurred and placed us all in a situation where we had to choose whether this was our fight to support or if this was our opportunity to sit it out.

Beloved, when it comes to the rights and liberties of the disenfranchised or historically marginalized population… we must fight.

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In case you didn’t know or have never seen a picture of me, let me tell you something- I am Black. I say that because I feel like you should know where my point of view comes from and to add to that, here’s some more about my background…

My mother is a beautiful woman, born in the less well-known part of Jamaica… specifically, the part that you don’t see on postcards and would never visit on your own freewill. She came to America about 41 years ago and immediately began building a sustainable life for her then-four children. To understand her family’s level of poverty, my mother came to America with the equivalent of an eighth grade education because her family could not afford to send her to high school. An immigrant, poorly educated, and mother of four. My mother came here in the midst of several struggles that she still works to fight through. She is a fighter.

My dad on the other hand was born in Baltimore, Maryland. Son of an Army veteran turned preacher and an intercessory prayer, my dad was not born into dire poverty but he wasn’t filet mignon nightly either. My dad is a dreamer and an artist (and I say that in the most respectful way possible). He sees the world in colors, patterns, and music notes…and it is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen in my life. As I have gotten older, my appreciation for my father’s artistry has deepened and I, too, am beginning to see the beauty that exists in the world. He is a dreamer.

Respectfully, I believe that I am a representation of the best parts of both my mother and my father. I further believe that when God allows for the creation of life, He pulls the very best from each person to create that new life. As such, take the good of Edgar and the good of Janet and, BAM!, you’ve got M.E. I have both my mother’s will to fight and be the heart for others, but I also have my father’s eye that sees extreme beauty even in the worst situation.

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That brings me back to the beginning of this post. Everything that I just mentioned in the preceding paragraph are things that I tried desperately to avoid. I wanted to fly under the radar and never be seen by others; I was perfectly content with a lifetime of anonymity. However, it would appear that God had other plans for my life. You see, Beloved, as I type this, I am nearing the end of another educators’ tour that He blessed me to attend. I traveled to Tennessee and Mississippi to visit a host of sites pivotal to Blacks and African Americans with educators from both within my country and around the country. My heart is equally FULL and ENRAGED. Walking in the places where Emmitt Till and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. breathed their last breath is humbling beyond words. Just typing that out is causing tears to well up in my eyes. I never wanted to be a fighter in my life… yet I see that waging war on behalf of others is exactly what God has called me to do.

Beloved, I would never, EVER tell you to physically fight someone. However, I do encourage you to recognize that not every person who has a mouth, has a voice and it is ok to help them advocate for themselves. If you are reading this, this is your call to action- it is your turn to suit up and help someone else in the way that God has called you to work. Open your heart to God’s will and let Him do the rest.

“Not my battle, not my fight”?
Respectfully, yes, it is (sometimes 🙂).

Be blessed.