I was fortunate to get a chance to go to the National Museum of African American History and Culture on Sunday. It was beautiful and moving and sad all at once.
I say sad because it reminds me how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go. I am an American and I realize that there are many people that don’t see me as that. They see me as just a black person and that puts me in a different category. I’ve been struggling a lot with this thought and so many others lately. I am genuinely fearful that my husband will be shot by a police officer. He is a college educated engineer who works for the federal government – a professional. But could someone look at him and think he looks like a “bad dude” and shoot him too?
Even in the midst of a celebration like this museum there is sadness. I watched the dedication ceremony open with the singing of the National Anthem and the closing of the Negro National Anthem and I thought of all the athletes taking a knee and the people angry at their right as Americans to protest. I just don’t understand how we seem to be moving to a world where if we don’t all conform to the same thing we aren’t true Americans. Isn’t that what being an American is all about? Having a choice? Being able to choose who we love? If we want to protest?
All I know is I’m black, I’m proud and I’m an American.