It comes in strange places...

While in Detroit, our group went to the Henry Ford Museum, and we got to see a lot of interesting exhibits, but one of my favorite parts was in Greenfield Village. It was basically a town full of recreated houses and buildings from the earlier parts of American History. It was inside the town that I encountered the Mattox family Home, a recreated home that was once owned by a family of freed slaves. It was there that I met Mida, one of the guides for that particular site. She was obviously very passionate about what she did, because she had created a complete character in order to help recreate the Mattox family values.

Dressed in the traditional clothes of the time, Mida spoke and acted as if she was from the 19th century in order to bring the visitors back to that time. I was there and I felt so comfortable. After she shared some information on the history of the Mattox family, and what life was like for them as freed slaves, I stayed behind to talk to her a little more. When I asked her what it meant to be an American, she mentioned struggle, which I thought was interesting. That’s a part of the American identity –especially the African American identity—that I think people forget about. The poem that follows was inspired by her words on struggle and perseverance:

Sometimes it seems like it just don’t end.
Who wants to play a game that’s impossible to win?
Tired of fighting,
Tired of crying,
And on the flipside I ain’t keen on dying neither.

So I gotta be strong, even when I feel weak.
I gotta keep going, when I don’t feel like moving.
Situations don’t matter; it’s about peace of mind.

So I’ll struggle to reach my goal
that’s clear in my sight,
cause something inside keeps telling me,
that it’s worth the endurance.