Sometimes I get glimpses of what seem to be fate. While most days I believe that we are in charge of our own destinies it is on occasion comforting to believe that certain instances are more than just coincidence, that perhaps we are all joined in some way. I came home from my last class this afternoon a bit deflated and generally tired. Typically at moments like this I would sit down for a few moments and browse the internet or maybe watch some Daily Show to distract whatever may have been weighing on me, but today both the internet and cable were not working thanks to the glory that is Comcast. I considered watching Hook, one of my favorite films and a sure way to cheer myself up, until I looked over to the coffee table where my roommate had put a book for one of her women’s studies class. I have been devouring books lately and this one was about tracing African American’s lineage, more specifically the efforts of the author in collaboration with many experts to find Oprah’s ancestry. It was also developed as a PBS special that did the same for five other prominent African American figures. At first glance it may seem to be more Oprah overload but admittedly I am a fan of Oprah and in constant amazement of her good deeds and desire to help and educate literally as many people as she is able to reach. The book did not dissapoint. Being the child of a middle class white family I have had many opportunities laid before me. The struggles that my father faced when I was young to feed his three young children while completing a Phd and work his way up from next to nothing have become sketchy memories now that I am approaching my own adulthood.
Similarly, to learn more about specific stories of struggles in the Reconstructed south following the Civil War seemed distanced from the life that I lead now. The point of this book was to show that while everything possible was done to erase these names, these heritages, and everything that defines us as humans, today it has become possible to undo this atrocity to a degree. The emphasis the author makes is upon the importance that Oprah’s ancestors placed in education and the need to acquire land and materials to prove their worth in a world where the color of their skin was enough to be killed over, let alone asserting oneself. The other interesting twist in the book came when DNA samples were taken to trace lineage beyond the slaves that only retained a single name and often took the surname of their owner. There is a great blending of DNA, far beyond the context of what we are able to define as race. Many Aftrican Americans have at least a percentage of European heritage and sometimes even Native American heritage as well. By looking at DNA from tribes and cultures that still exist in Africa today, it is possible to locate geographic areas and possible locations that a person is from. Honestly, this blew my mind. While I am a little hesitant to admit it I became almost jealous, and felt guilty the whole time that this pride and this desire to honor those who have come before is something that I feel has been lost at least within my family. Personal struggles within my immediate family have seemingly halted this sense of pride or perhaps the Saunders have been this way all along- I am not sure. Whatever it is this book also assured me in some senses. A large reason behind my motivation to pursue documentary photography and human rights is for stories such as this one. Whether or not many think about it from day to day, we all have connections and are one another’s brothers and sisters in some sense. DNA may state otherwise but our stories are paralleled whether or not we were on the fortunate side of the fence. It is hard to know where to find pride in a legacy that is so overridden in the exact crimes that I feel so strongly about preventing. Perhaps on some sort of overload I also picked up the book “Women” by Annie Leibowitz with an essay from Susan Sontag. It is a collection of photographs of women from all walks of life from truckers, to soldiers, to dancers, to politicians, to actresses, to miners, to researchers. All of these women are mothers, sisters, wives, friends, and have their own stories as well. This is another work that has always conjured the same feelings of a bigger connection for me.
For quite some time I had trouble explaining what it was that touched me so deeply with ideas such as these. Finally, after years of feeling this almost suffocating swell that would creep up in me at the strangest of moments a word came to mind and has managed to implant itself within me: humility. I am inspired by how minute and insignificant I am in comparison to others, but I am so incredibly in awe of the opportunities that I am able to pursue and infinitely appreciative of the fact that everyone is tragically flawed- how they have been, and will be that way forever.
Similarly, to learn more about specific stories of struggles in the Reconstructed south following the Civil War seemed distanced from the life that I lead now. The point of this book was to show that while everything possible was done to erase these names, these heritages, and everything that defines us as humans, today it has become possible to undo this atrocity to a degree. The emphasis the author makes is upon the importance that Oprah’s ancestors placed in education and the need to acquire land and materials to prove their worth in a world where the color of their skin was enough to be killed over, let alone asserting oneself. The other interesting twist in the book came when DNA samples were taken to trace lineage beyond the slaves that only retained a single name and often took the surname of their owner. There is a great blending of DNA, far beyond the context of what we are able to define as race. Many Aftrican Americans have at least a percentage of European heritage and sometimes even Native American heritage as well. By looking at DNA from tribes and cultures that still exist in Africa today, it is possible to locate geographic areas and possible locations that a person is from. Honestly, this blew my mind. While I am a little hesitant to admit it I became almost jealous, and felt guilty the whole time that this pride and this desire to honor those who have come before is something that I feel has been lost at least within my family. Personal struggles within my immediate family have seemingly halted this sense of pride or perhaps the Saunders have been this way all along- I am not sure. Whatever it is this book also assured me in some senses. A large reason behind my motivation to pursue documentary photography and human rights is for stories such as this one. Whether or not many think about it from day to day, we all have connections and are one another’s brothers and sisters in some sense. DNA may state otherwise but our stories are paralleled whether or not we were on the fortunate side of the fence. It is hard to know where to find pride in a legacy that is so overridden in the exact crimes that I feel so strongly about preventing. Perhaps on some sort of overload I also picked up the book “Women” by Annie Leibowitz with an essay from Susan Sontag. It is a collection of photographs of women from all walks of life from truckers, to soldiers, to dancers, to politicians, to actresses, to miners, to researchers. All of these women are mothers, sisters, wives, friends, and have their own stories as well. This is another work that has always conjured the same feelings of a bigger connection for me.
For quite some time I had trouble explaining what it was that touched me so deeply with ideas such as these. Finally, after years of feeling this almost suffocating swell that would creep up in me at the strangest of moments a word came to mind and has managed to implant itself within me: humility. I am inspired by how minute and insignificant I am in comparison to others, but I am so incredibly in awe of the opportunities that I am able to pursue and infinitely appreciative of the fact that everyone is tragically flawed- how they have been, and will be that way forever.
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