What has been the great imperative of my life?

Professor Zero has hit me up for another meme. What has been the great imperative of my life? This meme was started by Geoffrey Philp. Professor Z's imperative:

“[The realization that] the way we do things is not natural, but is rather a constructed system, and that there are many systems. I liked the discovery that one could acquire more than one system, and move between systems.
Indeed, this is what I like. Everything I undertake is, at the most fundamental level, undertaken because it offers the opportunity to walk into a new system and learn to navigate within it.”

Mines? To be heard. Yep. Even when folks tell you to be still, be quiet, or just go away..I will figure out a way to be heard.

This is my third meme. My second one from Professor Z. And I might add this is one is the most personal for me. I learned early in life to hide myself. I learned early to play by myself, being the oldest child. I learned how to be the chameleon. I learned to escape from the crowd, become invisible, not missed, not heard from, and not seen. This worked to my advantage, especially when things would become hectic. I knew how to avoid being bothered when things got hectic. That is until things began to really bother me. But, who would listen to little quiet me, when it came time to speak up?

It was easier to disappear, as a quiet person, no confrontation. Much quieter. The downsides to the quietness, it was viewed as a weakness. Definitely ruled me out as being the most important person in the room. As the quiet one, it seemed as if I was always underfoot or in somebody's way or in the way of others getting too, or going too somewhere. And I was just simply standing there. In the way. Occasionally, I would be brave enough to bother those who were more important, or those more worthy than me a question or two. Hoping to get an answer, and not get dismissed as simply being stupid, dumb, or just a silly girl and sent away.

Tough Love. Teaches you to find answers without asking questions. I just had to listen better and watch for the answers in a less humiliating way. It taught me to learn how to be useful.

I was very useful. You learn lots of stuff by being useful. Because folks always have something they want done, that they do not want to do themselves. And being young, I wanted to prove that I could do stuff, quiet, never saying no and not complaining. Yes, I could do that. I had to do a lot of listening. Because I did not want to suffer being called dumb or stupid. Quiet ones don't want to be made to look dumb. They definitely don't talk back to chance appearing stupid.

That was until Mr. Hedges entered my life. Mr. Hedges was my government teacher. I could be invisible even at school. Nobody cared about my education. Except, maybe me. Nobody, I was just a quiet girl. Something must have been wrong with Mr. Hedges because, he quietly and long windily asked me questions! I could pass a test, no problem. But his questions demanded an oral answer without a a check list of multiple choices. How was I to know if I was providing the right answer?

My oh my, what was I to do? In front of the class, the class would surely laugh at me, and I would prove the quiet one is a stupid one. I had to say something.

A little more about Mr. Hedges who reminded me of William Buckley. It was his dark hair, his skinny face and the Adam's apple protruding from his neck. The way it moved when he spoke caught my attention. And his words and phrases made me listen. Him and Buckley both talked about stuff I did not agree with, about government and black people.

Mr. Hedges would ask me what was the significant of something or other that happened on a daily basis. I who was invisible did not even know the meaning of the word, significant. But, I knew what it meant to be a African-American. I knew my experience was not their experience, Mr. Buckley or Mr. Hedges. And if Mr. Hedges was going to keep asking me questions, I was going to have to tell him what I thought about things. They were all going to have to listen. My classmates.

It was bad enough to show up at school and hope not to be picked on. To figure out what to wear so others would not make fun of you or your hair. Being poor did not help a quiet girl. Some days were spent just avoiding being used as an example by the teacher of how unprepared black children were for learning. But, Mr. Hedges was a teacher asking me to speak up. Trapped in class, with no way out. I stood in front of class and told them what I thought.

Mr. Hedges wanted to know what my thoughts were about a subject. Carl Rowan I relied on alot, to boost my experience. All those years of reading newspapers, magazines, books, and even the bible helped too. Many of them were about African-Americans. Mr. Hedges gave me the chance to speak and everyone in the room had to listen. Boy, did I have something to say and they had to listen. This time it would not be a made up essay about summer trips I never had. It was stuff I knew, read about and watched.

It's my government teacher fault. Sure, I debated with my grandfather and several uncles, but..Mr. Hedges was different. Mr. Hedges listened. And he provided a platform for me to speak every week. Shy me.

Mr. Hedges taught me I had an opinion. And if I had an opinion, I knew other folks had opinions too. But, they did not have Mr. Hedges for a government teacher. So, I would have to put aside my shyness and my shame of being a child of a single mother. I would have to speak up not just for me but for others just like me. It was imperative that I do so. I needed to be heard.

So, here I sit on this blog. I may not be the best writer, but I know I still got something to say. And Mr. Hedges it's all your fault. Now the other part of the meme, I have tagged the following bloggers, please respond to the question at the top of the post:

African-American Political Pundit

Bronze Trinity

antiessentialist conundrum

progress at all cost

The "D" spot

Temple 3

darkStar sprouts off

the content black woman

in the midst of it all

a woman in progress