Seek the Truth

By Yugen Fardan Rashad

Shirley Chisolm, Rosa Parks, Coretta Scott-King, Betty Friedan, and Mary Lee Davis — all strong women who, except for the latter, passed away during the last two years. In their lifetimes, their separate journeys intersected each others’ in service to humanity. They had a united message that women make a difference in the world and that without respect for all life, it’s a journey that can never be completed.

Each one a woman of virtue, of valor and of courage. Be it the struggle for civil rights or against racism and sexism, these people fought it down to the final moment of their lives on earth, and in the process spawned a generation of new warriors to advance the legacy. So we honor their memory.

My mother, Mary Lee Davis, was a contradiction: a beautiful angel and a wounded woman. She survived rape at an early age, but couldn’t escape the pain. My momma gave birth to six children and had an equal number of miscarriages. Twelve times nature loaded her body with life but only half the time did life come to fruition. Then she, too, passed away prematurely, just as the spring of my life came upon me in 1970. My love for her unrequited — that little girl from Shreveport, Louisiana — Mary Lee Davis. From the eyes of a child my mother could do no wrong. Her food tasted the best. Her voice like an opera star, her eyes like the piercing star. And the best biscuits with breakfast I’ve ever eaten. Yet, the demons stalked her every step.

Domestic violence and abuse, alcoholism, all-night parties that led to early morning hangover neglect of school-aged children and after-school spankings for failing to make the grade. This is a contemporary story many a young child may experience. That’s because conditions persist to this day that perpetrates this outcome — low social economic status that leads to addictions, violence, hopelessness, risky choices, and poor life management. But a son’s love for his momma has a way of editing out every episode of pain and discord — everything except the love.

In spite of the depth of my emotional and psychological wound, my unrequited love for momma remains. I love thinking about my mother’s embrace of jazz, blues, soul food, dancing, and her passion for life.

Over the years it has driven me to public service. So, I celebrate my mother, the first woman I ever loved. An existential love that in my adulthood extends to all women.

Some of us fail to appreciate the important role women have in our growth and development. And I’m abhorred that respect for woman isn’t as universal as it should be. Men must discontinue the practice of sexualizing the humanity of women. Especially males who endeavor to earn a living making rap music. Misogynistic lyrics degrading women by calling them names, or for “laughy- taffy” — is no laughing matter.

Quite frankly, I’m surprised more unlawful death lawsuits haven’t made their way through the courts due to the violence portrayed and instigated through an entertainment industry that unabashedly provides license to any gutter mouth with the ability to utter obscenities. Somewhere the message that individul worth is less important then wealth, has been drowned out. Money doesn’t make a person more human. And, all money isn’t good money.

As a purveyor of culture on a weekly jazz radio program, I’m outraged about the disrespect shown to women. I use every bit of the narrative tradition to promote healing to a wounded culture and society.

As we approach a very important event — International Women’s Month — pause to reflect on the wombs that bore you. When you do, never again perpetrate the cultural holocaust that occurs whenever women are denigrated.

Love your momma, your sister, niece, lady-friend, auntie, grandmother, wife, woman folk!

Claim the pain of your ancestors, choose the path of healing, and celebrate women.

Rashad’s writings deal with culture, aesthetics and spirituality. His topics, opinions and insights pay homage to the scholarly search for truth, which leads to personal responsibility and preservation of community life.