Putting my feelings into words is not usually a problem for me, but this
time…. Well….yeah. This was my second Sankofa experience, so where do I start? With the Legacy Museum, the Tallahatchie County Courthouse where Emmett Till's murderers were tried, or the 16th Street Baptist Church? Or, maybe, the Fannie Lou Hamer Museum, the Edmund Pettis Bridge, or the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, where victims of lynching are remembered and honored.
I could start with any one of the sites we visited during this 5-day trip. But it was the end that was most impactful. Not the literal end of the trip itself, but how I felt at the end. The culmination of all that had been intellectually digested, by myself
and the 14 other ladies on the trip would turn out to be life-changing!
We were a diverse group – black, white, young, and old (er 😊). This
made for rich conversation and perspectives that stretched our normal
thought patterns. We did a lot of “processing” along the way, talking
about how we felt about what we had learned. Some were angry,
some saddened, some disgusted, devastated, and shocked. Some
cried, and some had no words at all. Their inner voice shut down.
As we toured each exhibit, we were reminded over and over again of
the many ways that African Americans have been systemically
disenfranchised in this country. First, by slavery, then Jim Crow, in the
military, educationally, financially, and politically. Each stop on the
Sankofa trip left us wondering, “How was this allowed to happen?”.
How did 10.7 million Africans survive the horrible conditions of the
Middle Passage, after being kidnapped, and subjected to inhumane
conditions for months, until they reached American shores? How could
the murderers of Emmet Till, a 14 year- old child, be acquitted by an all-
white jury, then a few months later, confess and sell the story of how
they did it to a national magazine? How could there be over 4,000
documented lynchings (and those are the ones we know about) in this country, and over 99% of the perpetrators were never brought to justice? And why is it that lynching only became a federal crime in March of 2022, after being brought up on the Senate floor in Washington, DC, over 200 times?
We were puzzled as to how, in New York and New Jersey, out of the
67,000 VA housing loans, fewer than 100 went to blacks, and in
Mississippi, where blacks were 38.5% of the veteran population, only 2
(two) of 3,229 loans, were awarded to black borrowers. This is only a
snapshot of the country where it is estimated that over one million black
veterans were denied the GI Bill after WW 2. We questioned, how
could this happen in the “land of the free and the home of the brave?”
By mid-trip, we could understand why African Americans carry a
“collective pain.” Being African American, this is a pain I carry too. It’s
a result of what has happened to us as a people for the past 400 years.
But what my Sankofa Sisters and I didn’t understand is why these
atrocities were allowed for so long, and why their remnants are still
tolerated in our society today. As we boarded the bus after some of
the site visits, there were tears, sighs, shaking of heads, and blank stares
out of the windows as we tried to deal with the weight of what we had
just learned. Our hearts were heavy.
By Friday, our whirlwind tour of the south was winding down. The
journey we had begun a few days earlier united us in a sort of
“sisterhood.” Together, we had all learned something very important.
As we considered the cumulative impact of all the exhibits we toured,
one thing became very clear: African Americans, by God’s grace, are a
resourceful, and resilient people! After everything that has happened
to us, we have survived. And not just survived, but have done so by
making major contributions to this country, despite facing systemic
racism.
2 Cor 4:7-9 says: But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the
excellence of the power may be of God and not of us. We are hard-
pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in
despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not
destroyed.
On the trip, I was reminded of all the times we were knocked down
as a people but got back up. Humiliated, but kept going because we
had to. I thought about all those, whose names we will never know,
but who died so that we could lay hold of what we enjoy today. My
heart is saddened because of what they endured, but there is an ethnic
pride that wells up on the inside of me to know that I descended from
such greatness.
I started out by saying that I’m not usually at a loss for words, and even
now, I’m still coming to grips with all the emotions this history journey
has invoked. So, if you asked me, “How do you feel after your second
Sankofa trip?” I’d say, “Same as the first one, but even more so –
humbled, grateful, and incredibly proud.”
Pastor Sharleatha Collins co-led our first Women’s Sankofa Journey to Harmony, Oct. 29 – Nov. 2, 2024. Her knowledge and insight added so much to our trip, and her sincere heart for Jesus and love for others is abundantly evident. We’re grateful and honored to share her guest blog post about her experience. - ANDY GRAY
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