Inspiration

I remember in eighth grade, becoming so inspired by Benjamin Franklin and his strong desire to learn. Just being inspired by someone who had barely anything, whose constant search for a form of education was the only thing that was able to truly feed his soul; feeling quite disappointed in myself for being awarded with all the tools to "truly feed my soul" and not using it entirely to my advantage. But now I am in tenth grade, and I am now inspired by someone who is truly inspirational...my true forefather...Frederick Douglass. A person with nothing but the chains in which he was held back with. A person who is far more relatable than say Mr. Franklin. A person whose achievements could be argued far greater than that of Benjamin Franklin. A person enslaved by the same kind of people who enslaved my ancestors. A person whose hardships have given me some light to that of my ancestors. Just by reading his autobiography, I have received a more detailed look into the inhumane treatment of my ancestors...my people. I have received a look into the savagery and barbarity of slavery. Oh my god I am so passionate about this subject (as you can tell by my use of vocabulary words. I only bring them out when I'm talking about something I find important and am extremely passionate about). Just reading about the experiences he has experienced and the horrid images and sounds he has been exposed to, has opened my mind and heart. I remember hearing like examples of the songs slaves would sing in movies or documentaries and being uplifted. But now my heart is just saddened, thinking about it all. Just thinking about how those songs were songs of people, my people, in despair. Those were songs of deep sorrow and depression. Oh my god my heart feels so heavy and yet it also feels like its creeping up my throat. To think I can barely go on thinking about it, imagining it. My ancestors were so strong, so strong to withstand such horrid treatment and I, compared to them, am so weak. I remember one day I was watching Degrassi and Emma was watching something about the solar system and just started crying b/c she felt so small in such a big universe and I have always wondered how it felt. Though I know that I am just this tiny spec in such a big solar system, I am unable to truly grasp the idea. But right now I think I feel something that closely resembled the feeling that Emma felt, that overwhelming feeling of feeling so small, so unimportant, and so weak. That’s how I feel compared to my ancestors. I have and will never have to go through any of the horrible experiences that my ancestors have had to go through, and to that I am so grateful. But now I feel unimportant, what can I possibly do that is as important as my ancestors and makes me worthy of bearing my last name? I don’t really feel important enough to bear the name Terrell, or to have the McKee or Wimbush blood running through me. I feel as if I cannot do anything to contribute to my family. Though I do not feel as lost as I have. I have a small sense of who I am and of what my culture is. I have a small sense of what it truly means to be African American and, for that, I am eternally grateful to Mr. Fredrick Douglass.