Sister Sunday: I Have A Dream
I vividly remember when I was nominated to be part of the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I Have A Dream writing contest.
My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Shiroki, insisted my follow-up speech to Dr. King’s disquisition was inspiring. She suggested that I compete with our cities’ young writers for the grand prize: a $100 gift card and medallion!
Although I couldn’t quite articulate the continual injustices that I witnessed towards Black and Brown people living in my neighborhood, I did understand that being Black and Brown meant being treated and viewed differently — and not in a moral way.
When taught about the great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., his words extended comfort and a blanket of hope that inspired me as a young girl. I remember feeling empowered, protected, and affirmed. I believed I could aspire to be anyone and do anything I set my mind to. Dr. King was a radical leader and truth seeker. He proclaimed that we as people deserved freedom, justice, and equality; and shared a unique style of conveying this message to others.
That day in class, I watched Dr. King deliver his celebrated speech during the March on Washington in 1963, and the words I have always wanted to assert instantly sprang to mind. This day I began writing.
I remember the morning of the competition. Daddy took his time ironing my clothes. He was always stressing the importance of having no wrinkles and a nice-clean crease down your pants. Mamma made a big breakfast and finished twisting my hair. I felt beautiful and sick to my stomach. I was ecstatic and nervous at the thought of representing my family on stage, competing with my peers, and being judged by strangers. I pondered the idea of fumbling on my words. Still, I kept thinking about how I wanted to win. Although I did not win the grand prize that day, I did leave as the runner-up. From that day, I had a dream: To be a free and fearless writer.
Finding My Way
I can recall being a young girl and having a plethora of built-up aggression and emotions, most of which I can now acknowledge as trauma. I was outspoken at home but struggled to articulate myself with others. Many did not believe this to be accurate, unfortunately, that’s exactly how I felt inside. I was always conjuring up the courage to let go of what my family and society perceived me to be; versus who God was revealing to me.
I may not have known this then but, being introduced to writing in the third grade would serve as a healthy form of therapy. I would turn to pen and paper to release my inner thoughts and visions. If I did not see a solution to the struggles I witnessed within myself, my family, and my neighborhood, I would write about it — acting as both the observer and mediator.
In these moments, I was confidently professing to God, peeling back layer after layer of ancestral strife handed over to me once born. Carrying the baton — a magnitude of weight fostered in 400 years of hate and oppression.
Writing would bridge me to join two powerful performing arts — theatre and forensics speech and debate throughout my early childhood. I studied the power of words and how character analysis in theatre and topics in both speech and debate shaped people’s views. Through each art, I developed a unique perspective and improved my writing technique.
Legacy
Like my idols Connie Rose Porter, Maya Angelou, Audre Lorde, and Toni Morrison, I visualized myself having the wisdom and tenacity to step into my greatness and share my stories. I wondered when my moment would come, not knowing I was documenting my experiences through journaling. It was my way of leaning on God to anchor me in his word and assert my voice. I was not aware I was recording the hopes, fears, visions, and aspirations, which would inspire the stories I write today.
When I write, I am writing for myself and the countless others who dream and believe. For the voices that have been silenced, stories that go untold, and the dreams withered away.
Writing is the center of who I am, my solace. I am my most authentic self when I write. It’s my way of connecting to my spirit, soul, and the many ancestors that have come before me.
As the great Dr. King once proclaimed, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” So I rise and honor my inner child, an ambitious black girl with a dream.
Tatiana Donaldson is a writer, educator, and host of Ambitious Black Girl: The Podcast. Visit Ambitious Black Girl for podcast episodes, stories, and more!
