A couple days ago I had a dream. I was walking through a house with my family. But across the yard there was an abandoned house. I crossed the yard to the empty home. When I walked inside the house and looked outside the window, the previously empty yard I walked through had a few trees with black people hanging from the limbs. Thinking I was seeing ghosts I ran back outside. But the vision didn’t go away. There were even more black people hanging from the trees. They were not hanging from a noose around the neck. They were upside down with their feet tied together and arms outstretched to the earth. As I tried to walk back to my family, I saw a white man in white robes looking like the pope sentencing more black people to their deaths. I woke from my dream after that. I spent the rest of that day, and the next, thinking of our African ancestors.
Today is the day that Americans are supposed to spend in remembrance of our fallen ancestors who were drafted or volunteered to serve this country and paid the ultimate sacrifice to help make this country great. I think more of us ought to spend more time remembering all the unremembered enslaved ancestors who were forced at the end of a whip to serve this country and make it great without so much as a dime in compensation. Where is our national memorial to recognize the sacrifice of all the enslaved Africans and all the Africans who died in the middle passage?