Most people know about the Woolworth Sit-ins. Let me rephrase that. Most people should know about the Woolworth Sit-ins. This is the United States, and one thing the United States is not going to know is its own history. It all started with young Black students in Greensboro, NC who just wanted to enjoy what they described as a “dignified life.” They just wanted to exist in a so called capitalist society, use their money, and buy shit that is on the menu. That’s it. I don’t think that is asking too much, and if we extract the unlimited grace we have for the shitty people from the past who still have positions of power in our present, I think you will agree with me. They wanted to go to a store that they could shop in, a store where their money added to the P& L sheet in all other levels, and get a cup of coffee at the lunch counter. That was the only area that was “White’s Only”. A cup of coffee was too much to ask from a restaurant that served coffee. But alas, the pull of the all mighty dollar is only second to the power of violent and politically upheld white supremacy. How dare these Black people expect to be allowed to drink coffee next to everyone? And when I tell you that y’all uncles, grannies, and grandpas and nem showed the entirety of their under washed ass, they absolutely did.
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Coffee has always been a catalyst to change, good and bad. See the Haitian Revolution really brewed up as a response to the conditions on the coffee plantations in Haiti. Those conditions were so damn deplorable that the enslaved residents chose death before dishonred humanity. Specifically the death of their captors. Cheers. This added unwanted agitation to the slurry of human trafficking that has funded a multitude of industries. Europeans decided that the business of slavery was starting to extract too many risks to their profits and to themselves. Folks like Jane Austen’s daddy decided to call it quits on the industry that funded their children’s space to feel enlighten to their own human dignity, and abolished their love of human trafficking begotten free money, aka the Transatlantic Slave Trade. How civilized. Now the Land of Free Labor funded Free Market, aka the USA, started to feel boxed in. Who would fund their American Grit? This was the beginning of breeding plantations going up and down the eastern and southern coast.
The majority of Africans abducted to the US territories were actually from Central Africa, but West Africans had all the attributes and ancestral knowledge to be most profitable for this great experiment of ethics and liberty. Now most Black African Americans find out that we have West African in their heritage when we spend 100+ dollars to find out where home before our American horror story was, because of the folks who survived constant and repeated SA and forced child bearing. Women would walk around with their heads covered, because of the shame of hundreds of forced couplings with neighbors, friends, foes, and unfortunately family members. All so our country tis of thee could let freedom ring from sea to shining sea.
The human dignity being denied was felt, long before being taught to read was legalized for the abducted and enslaved Africans and their descendants. Long before they updated the constitution and gave us our 2/5s back. Long before we could read the biblical teaching to not muzzle the ox as they muzzled the enslaved humans during their 15-20 hour work days. Long before we could read suffer little children not and show them no harm, as they separated children from their parents, shanked them in the brain after birth, forced them to pick cotton and vegetables as young as 3 years old, and sliced their Achilles tendons so they wouldn’t want to flee. Did you know there were revolts on USA plantations around every 3 weeks? Every three weeks someone sacrificed everything for just a little taste of the one thing that they were born with; humanity.
Photo Cred: Cydni
With the weight of that dignity being denied for centuries and the fruits of their labor being stolen sitting just so damn heavy on their chest, all those students asked for was to sit at counter with a cup of coffee. And yet, that was just too damn much to ask. Long after we learned that the Sea of Forgetfulness has a Whites Only sign, much like the water fountains that your totally not snowflake grandparents enjoyed, we recognized that a cup of coffee was more than just a cup of coffee. The enjoyment of a cup of coffee in peace, is a piece of that milk and honey from the God hidden in plain sight.
A God hidden inside the gospel chord, the rock and roll riff, the jazz disharmony, the hip hop bass, the house music vibes, the candied yams, mac and cheese, ranch dressing, street lights, scored shots, cellphone code, whiskey, vanilla sweetness, potato chip, blood bank, mailbox, gas mask, incandescent light bulb, traffic signal, masking tape, pencil sharpener, bread-kneading machine, golf tee, mop, electric microphone, automatic gear shift, refrigerated trucks, home security system, ironing board, automatic elevator doors, toilet tissue holder, color IBM pc monitor and chip, and so many more acknowledged and stolen inventions by these humans denied dignity because of their African heritage.
As I make this pour over, I make enough for the ancestors. It may be symbolic and meaningless, it may be out of rebellion to the people who told us that celebration of ancestors was demonic before they attended their lynch mobs after church service, where my gospel chords shook the ceilings of the balconies that my relatives were restricted to. It may be a grasp to honor the birth certificate-less, the nap denied, the foundation of almost everything we love to say and see about this land to this day. It may be a ritual to remind myself that survival is not enough, and my pain and exhaustion is not enough of a reason to let our dreams die. Because this is OUR dreams. See, only black people have to be separate from our ancestors. Everyone else gets to lay claim on the heroic survival from their people in the past that made their existence possible. It seems that only Black roses don’t get to celebrate their roots so the concrete that they survived doesn’t feel bad.
What ever it is, I do it. I pay my tithe to those who never received a fulfilled invoice request. I share my first sips with those who never tasted a harvest that they cultivated. Cheers to the unnamed and defamed, the intelligent and infamous, the kind and chaotic, folks who gave me their best and their only so hopefully I can have better and enough to share.
Recipe
Dose: 24g
Water: 445 ml
Brew Time: 4 minutes
Coffee: Cerrado Paubrasil Natural
Progress may be incremental, but I need to pour like you actually want a positive outcome. Finish your pour by 2:30 minutes. It will happen eventually, and when I say eventually I mean…by 4:00 minutes. Nothing good happens “eventually” sweetheart. Did you know more abducted and trafficked were sent to Brazil? That is horrid, but this coffee from Loom is absolutely divine.
Photo Cred: Cydni
Does the reality that our country bred Human’s like animals? Do I need to turn on Sarah Mclachlan to get you to feel something about the consequences of that and many fundamental decisions of our country?
Tip your barista and over caffeinated food, beverage, and bullshit story teller.
Venmo: Cydni-Patterson
Photo Cred: Cydni