The Soul Of Women Of Color

This picture here is not of the brilliant author for the book that I am currently captured by. This is a picture of one of millions of strong hopefull Black Women that never ever gave up the believe that she would see the light of freedom. She is anonymous but beautiful. Heart made of the finest metallurgical substances that can be found on earth and beyond. Hands stronger than a retired mechanic, emotions that run further than long yonder. She is the one that kept a stern face amongst chaos and total devastation of her dignity. Body, mind and soul. She didn't know how to read or write but her mind was savy, slick, and acute! She held it inside though. She had double the trouble versus the male slave. She had the Slave Master to please and the jealous mistress (slaveowners wife) against her at all times! Both with relentless psychological warfare that would make the underground tunnels in Vietnam look like rides at a Raging Water theme park. She was the backbone and pure essence of why I have the color in my skin today. She deserves a name so I will call her Tyra Blackshear. I use Blackshear because it doesn't appear as if a sir name of that nature would have any ties to the ownership of a white man like Jones, Johnson, Jefferson, etc. I wanted to give her a name far from anything associated with days of yore. This woman was inherited from a died sister of the slave master willed to a child that was only 5 years old upon receipt of her property. Therefore she was the slave masters stock and pleasure until the child was old enough to assume the responsibility of slave ownership. In Tyra's adolescence several offers were made for her purchase but the slave master could not do so. Tyra belonged to his niece. Free black men that fell in love with Tyra attempted to purchase her and the mistress would inform Tyra "she would be pickled and skinned" if she ever entertained such a thought. There are so many scenarios to describe so many acts of abominations to speak upon I am currently lost for direction! Trya would be raped at an early age by a small, pale skinned, varicose veined diabolical heathen! The slave master worked with pre-meditation. He knew as a virgin, she would not have the certain deadly disease of syphilis. There was not cure back then. Only thing prescribed for such a condition was liquid mercury to be injested to curb the unGodly stomach pains. As well the slave master thought he gained the mental dominance needed to have an obedient slave nigger. And he was right. For the wealthy slavery master that had several hundred slaves under his command, there was always ample amounts of female slaves that were impregnated by him or that had just given birth. The irony was that he was fucking is wife at the same time. And when the mistress gave birth she would pick which slave that was lactating at the time to terminate her child's breast feeding and commencing of breast feeding the mistress' child for a minimum of a years time frame. If the slaves child was 2 months old, so what! That baby must be weaned and fed corn feed and pork fat. Oh that pig saved our lives people! If that slave was seen breast feeding any other baby than the mistresses she could be killed on sight! Quite often the female slave was the ultimate care giver for the child that owned her. What a feeling that must have been. To raise a child that in time will own you. Fuck, that's enough for tonight. I can't take no more right now. Til tomorrow.


Author: C. Gonzales