Location
Historical Revenue
I. Introduction: My name is MisDajania, pronounced ms-daja-nae
Before you ask yes that is really my name
Mis:demanding respect from everybody. Dajania: french for lunch funny right?
With that name comes criticism, confused looks and responsibility
But I take them on
My name is who I am.
The deepest part of me.
There are a lot of things I can change but I'll always be MisDajania.
Enough of the name stuff I’m so many more things.
I am an African American woman. The descendent of a slave.
Relative to some person stripped away from the motherland.
Hauled off to some White folks’ plantation.
Beaten, raped ,over-worked & all for free
Confused and scared of the new place they are forced to call home.
Ironically enough I am also kin to those evil Anglos
I have white blood mixing in with that African blood. But
I don't claim it, I am an African American woman.
With nappy hair, full lips and brown skin.
I'm the girl who has Southern roots that run deep.
Big mama and Antie care for the youngin'
Big Papa and Uncle whom ever worked the fields for little money
Then again I'm a city girl, San Francisco raised
Cold weather, bus lines & lots of water
The girl who is able to sit on the front of the bus , kudos to Rosa Parks
My way has been paved by the brothers and sisters who walked in Birmingham
I'm eligible for the UNCF
Madame CJ Walker made sure my hair could always be whipped
This is me because I am an African American woman remember?
I forgot to mention my middle name, Maya.
After the remarkable poet, to whom I owe my wisdom
The sista that gave other Africans a voice
Poetic and written intelligence
Within that I am able to speak freely and fiercely
My brother Malcolm X made that possible
Though my family started from the field
Picking cotton in the scorching hot sun
Caring for White babies
Men watching their wives be beat tears dropping in the whip wounds
I was created, the next generation
I MisDajania will find our puzzle piece of this world.
However, still haven't finished telling who I am......
II. Ancient History
Long ago I lived in a far out place
My feet were hugged by warm sand and the 100 degree sun kissed my skin
I was “the beautiful one’’,
Queen of the Egyptians
Nefertiti was my name
I took my seat on the throne at fifteen with my husband the Pharaoh
With whom I bore six daughters
I loved his sweet kisses
Often times the people of Egypt saw our displays of affection
We had a sincere unbreakable bond
Together we created Aten
In honor of our beloved sun
We would be the spokesmen for it
We made sure the citizens worshiped it
I had an enormous amount of power
I was famous amongst the people
Then one day I was gone without a trace….
I’d like to introduce someone who may be my distant relative
The boy king of Egypt
The boy Pharaoh
Tut born in 1341 BCE became the 12th king of the 18th dynasty
The living image of Aten
They never told the poor guy his mother was also his aunt
I guess that would explain the cleft and club foot
The kids just teased him for it
That same boy at about eight became ruler of Egypt
However decision making was left up to Ay and Holemheb
That boy later grew into a young man
5 feet and 8 inches
A normal healthy build
He fought strong and hard against the Nubians and Syrians
His reign didn’t last for too long though
Eighteen years on land
Ten years of ruling
And it was all over
So abruptly the boy king was deceased.
But all good things come to an end
Ancient Egypt Fail
Though Cleopatra earned her keep for 14 years
Augustus came and conquered
30 BC the Romans claimed Egypt as theirs.
III. Melting Pot
My ancestors arrived to the U.S. on slave ships
Forced into cruel and harsh labor
They called a strange new land their home
Weird language, new food and White faces
Stuck with racism, segregation and fear
They picked cotton and cared for White babies
Mistakes meant literal whippings and other harsh abuse
They sang about wading in the water and overcoming to pass the time
They hoped that one day they would be set free
My grandmother comes from Homer`
A small Louisiana town
Cotton fields, corn fields and chickens running a muck
Typical life for a poor Black kid in the South
A fair-skinned girl with straight black hair
An inheritance from her White and Native American grandmother
Yet and still there wasn’t anything for her in Louisiana
In 1946 she packed up her life and headed West
She became a part of the Second Great Migration
Like other southern Blacks is was time for a better life
She boarded a Greyhound bus and rode into her new life
San Francisco became her new home
City life, fast cars and processed hair
She would now be able to continue her education
With a high school diploma she then went on
To become a nurse
All while raising her little boy
Her determination and hard-work
Is the reason I am able to stand in front of you today
IV. Current Reality
In 1955 a 14 year old Black boy was brutally murdered
His name was Emmett Till
He had allegedly flirted with a white woman
Till had failed to realize that Black and White contact was taboo in the south
His mother Mamie had to lay her eyes on her son’s mutilated body
The image would forever be embedded in her mind as well as the Nation’s eyes
His funeral was broadcast and made public
The world saw what they had done to Mamie’s boy
Rosa Parks refused to give up her bus seat
She had never been a fan of segregation nor racism
After living her life in that type of world she became fed up
In 1955 she took a stance or shall I say seat
Her refusal which led to her arrest sparked the Montgomery bus boycott
That sparked also ignited the civil rights movement
My people came together to demand a change
They walked together and rode together until the buses were desegregated
As an African American teen I come with baggage
My ancestors were slaves
My family grew up in a time of segregation
Society does not have faith in me
My generation is expected to fail
We have been left in the world with no leaders or role models
We do not have the courage as did the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee
Our only voice is laced with foul words and attitude
Our battles are fought not by our minds but by the release of a bullet from a chamber
Viola Liuzzo was the first white martyr to die for the civil rights movement
Her life let the world know change wasn’t impossible
Liuzzo was tired of seeing Blacks mistreated
Whites were infuriated that she had become involved in the movement
She was a traitor to her own race
Her betrayal caught up with her
She was seen driving in a car with a black man
A single bullet plunged through her skull
Fired by a Klansman
Yet and still the fight for equality wasn’t over
So much hard work had been put in but it was not over
There would be so many more speeches, walks and protests to follow
Eventually segregation became illegal
Racism is still around it has just lost its popularity
V. Thinking Ahead
My history is powerful
It has the force of a lion’s fist
A lot of it irritates me
As red does a bull
Other aspects make me proud
The people that I have learned about have inspired me
My strength comes from Martin
My fearlessness comes from Harriet
My outspoken voice comes from Angela
My history means I can carry the heaviest weight on my shoulders
My history is mine to keep
My history is in my heart
My history is the story of my life before I was born
My future holds success
My heritage will not allow me to fail
My future is what I make it
I plan to make it the best
I’ll walk every day with my head up
Determination and ambition in my eyes
I have my goals in mind
Without them I have no future
I’ll enter the real world being more than
What society expects of me
In the future I’ll make those who paved my way proud
I hold the responsibility of walking the path they have made for me
Those Negroes in the south didn’t die
Hang by their necks from trees
and go to jail in vain
My people must remember what it means to be African
They have forgotten who they are
The blood that pumps through them is rich
That our ancestors we kings, queens and warriors
They carried wounds and scars of strength on their backs
Our elders have marched for miles with pride
They have felt the fiery burn of teargas
Dogs have gnawed at their legs
Water hoses in full force knocked them down
But they were able to get back up
We as the next generation must remember our pride
We need to regain faith in ourselves
To know we are worth more than the ‘hoods we are dying for
Guns do not give us credibility, our intelligence does
My peoples’ future is undetermined
We need to believe in each other
We need to stand together in harmony as they did in Washington
Our lives cannot reflect those of a rap star
We need our own leaders and to be leaders ourselves
To have self respect
Walk everyday with dignity
Have the courage that those before us had
Ultimately we need to give a damn
Historical Revenue
I. Introduction: My name is MisDajania, pronounced ms-daja-nae
Before you ask yes that is really my name
Mis:demanding respect from everybody. Dajania: french for lunch funny right?
With that name comes criticism, confused looks and responsibility
But I take them on
My name is who I am.
The deepest part of me.
There are a lot of things I can change but I'll always be MisDajania.
Enough of the name stuff I’m so many more things.
I am an African American woman. The descendent of a slave.
Relative to some person stripped away from the motherland.
Hauled off to some White folks’ plantation.
Beaten, raped ,over-worked & all for free
Confused and scared of the new place they are forced to call home.
Ironically enough I am also kin to those evil Anglos
I have white blood mixing in with that African blood. But
I don't claim it, I am an African American woman.
With nappy hair, full lips and brown skin.
I'm the girl who has Southern roots that run deep.
Big mama and Antie care for the youngin'
Big Papa and Uncle whom ever worked the fields for little money
Then again I'm a city girl, San Francisco raised
Cold weather, bus lines & lots of water
The girl who is able to sit on the front of the bus , kudos to Rosa Parks
My way has been paved by the brothers and sisters who walked in Birmingham
I'm eligible for the UNCF
Madame CJ Walker made sure my hair could always be whipped
This is me because I am an African American woman remember?
I forgot to mention my middle name, Maya.
After the remarkable poet, to whom I owe my wisdom
The sista that gave other Africans a voice
Poetic and written intelligence
Within that I am able to speak freely and fiercely
My brother Malcolm X made that possible
Though my family started from the field
Picking cotton in the scorching hot sun
Caring for White babies
Men watching their wives be beat tears dropping in the whip wounds
I was created, the next generation
I MisDajania will find our puzzle piece of this world.
However, still haven't finished telling who I am......
II. Ancient History
Long ago I lived in a far out place
My feet were hugged by warm sand and the 100 degree sun kissed my skin
I was “the beautiful one’’,
Queen of the Egyptians
Nefertiti was my name
I took my seat on the throne at fifteen with my husband the Pharaoh
With whom I bore six daughters
I loved his sweet kisses
Often times the people of Egypt saw our displays of affection
We had a sincere unbreakable bond
Together we created Aten
In honor of our beloved sun
We would be the spokesmen for it
We made sure the citizens worshiped it
I had an enormous amount of power
I was famous amongst the people
Then one day I was gone without a trace….
I’d like to introduce someone who may be my distant relative
The boy king of Egypt
The boy Pharaoh
Tut born in 1341 BCE became the 12th king of the 18th dynasty
The living image of Aten
They never told the poor guy his mother was also his aunt
I guess that would explain the cleft and club foot
The kids just teased him for it
That same boy at about eight became ruler of Egypt
However decision making was left up to Ay and Holemheb
That boy later grew into a young man
5 feet and 8 inches
A normal healthy build
He fought strong and hard against the Nubians and Syrians
His reign didn’t last for too long though
Eighteen years on land
Ten years of ruling
And it was all over
So abruptly the boy king was deceased.
But all good things come to an end
Ancient Egypt Fail
Though Cleopatra earned her keep for 14 years
Augustus came and conquered
30 BC the Romans claimed Egypt as theirs.
III. Melting Pot
My ancestors arrived to the U.S. on slave ships
Forced into cruel and harsh labor
They called a strange new land their home
Weird language, new food and White faces
Stuck with racism, segregation and fear
They picked cotton and cared for White babies
Mistakes meant literal whippings and other harsh abuse
They sang about wading in the water and overcoming to pass the time
They hoped that one day they would be set free
My grandmother comes from Homer`
A small Louisiana town
Cotton fields, corn fields and chickens running a muck
Typical life for a poor Black kid in the South
A fair-skinned girl with straight black hair
An inheritance from her White and Native American grandmother
Yet and still there wasn’t anything for her in Louisiana
In 1946 she packed up her life and headed West
She became a part of the Second Great Migration
Like other southern Blacks is was time for a better life
She boarded a Greyhound bus and rode into her new life
San Francisco became her new home
City life, fast cars and processed hair
She would now be able to continue her education
With a high school diploma she then went on
To become a nurse
All while raising her little boy
Her determination and hard-work
Is the reason I am able to stand in front of you today
IV. Current Reality
In 1955 a 14 year old Black boy was brutally murdered
His name was Emmett Till
He had allegedly flirted with a white woman
Till had failed to realize that Black and White contact was taboo in the south
His mother Mamie had to lay her eyes on her son’s mutilated body
The image would forever be embedded in her mind as well as the Nation’s eyes
His funeral was broadcast and made public
The world saw what they had done to Mamie’s boy
Rosa Parks refused to give up her bus seat
She had never been a fan of segregation nor racism
After living her life in that type of world she became fed up
In 1955 she took a stance or shall I say seat
Her refusal which led to her arrest sparked the Montgomery bus boycott
That sparked also ignited the civil rights movement
My people came together to demand a change
They walked together and rode together until the buses were desegregated
As an African American teen I come with baggage
My ancestors were slaves
My family grew up in a time of segregation
Society does not have faith in me
My generation is expected to fail
We have been left in the world with no leaders or role models
We do not have the courage as did the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee
Our only voice is laced with foul words and attitude
Our battles are fought not by our minds but by the release of a bullet from a chamber
Viola Liuzzo was the first white martyr to die for the civil rights movement
Her life let the world know change wasn’t impossible
Liuzzo was tired of seeing Blacks mistreated
Whites were infuriated that she had become involved in the movement
She was a traitor to her own race
Her betrayal caught up with her
She was seen driving in a car with a black man
A single bullet plunged through her skull
Fired by a Klansman
Yet and still the fight for equality wasn’t over
So much hard work had been put in but it was not over
There would be so many more speeches, walks and protests to follow
Eventually segregation became illegal
Racism is still around it has just lost its popularity
V. Thinking Ahead
My history is powerful
It has the force of a lion’s fist
A lot of it irritates me
As red does a bull
Other aspects make me proud
The people that I have learned about have inspired me
My strength comes from Martin
My fearlessness comes from Harriet
My outspoken voice comes from Angela
My history means I can carry the heaviest weight on my shoulders
My history is mine to keep
My history is in my heart
My history is the story of my life before I was born
My future holds success
My heritage will not allow me to fail
My future is what I make it
I plan to make it the best
I’ll walk every day with my head up
Determination and ambition in my eyes
I have my goals in mind
Without them I have no future
I’ll enter the real world being more than
What society expects of me
In the future I’ll make those who paved my way proud
I hold the responsibility of walking the path they have made for me
Those Negroes in the south didn’t die
Hang by their necks from trees
and go to jail in vain
My people must remember what it means to be African
They have forgotten who they are
The blood that pumps through them is rich
That our ancestors we kings, queens and warriors
They carried wounds and scars of strength on their backs
Our elders have marched for miles with pride
They have felt the fiery burn of teargas
Dogs have gnawed at their legs
Water hoses in full force knocked them down
But they were able to get back up
We as the next generation must remember our pride
We need to regain faith in ourselves
To know we are worth more than the ‘hoods we are dying for
Guns do not give us credibility, our intelligence does
My peoples’ future is undetermined
We need to believe in each other
We need to stand together in harmony as they did in Washington
Our lives cannot reflect those of a rap star
We need our own leaders and to be leaders ourselves
To have self respect
Walk everyday with dignity
Have the courage that those before us had
Ultimately we need to give a damn