If you know whence you came, there is really no limit to where you can go.” —James Baldwin
When I was teen, I read this book called, Like Sisters on the Homefront by Rita Williams-Garcia, and in it, there’s a part that talks about how one member of the main character’s family is entrusted with remembering the ancestral history in it’s entirety. When this person dies, he/she/they must pass on their family’s history to the next generation until it’s time for them to relinquish their role. As I came to the end of The Deep by Rivers Solomon’s book, I was put in mind of this practice of remembering.
As the descendant of American Chattel Slavery, I am many generations removed from my ancestral home. There is no one who can remember who we were or where we came from before my ancestors landed on the shores of Charleston, South Carolina chained up in the hull of a ship. Sadly, there is no one who can really tell us how our forefather and foremothers ended up on those ships to begin with. I am much like the lost mer-people that Solomon’s main character, Yetu, has the task with “reminding” about their history.
For me, reading Solomon’s book feels akin to being taunted. African-Americans have forever been set adrift in the world and the more we try to establish ourselves with traditions and culture, the world steals it from us idea by idea, stitch by stitch, and one collagen shot at a time. Therefore, when I listen to the song Solomon based their book off of by Clipping, and hear Daveed Diggs ask if “y’all remember?,” I find myself growing frustrated because I don’t remember! I’ve hit a road block after a period of time and no amount of Ancestry DNA reports will set me straight.
Likewise, if you are an art aficionado, please checkout Jason deCaires Taylor’s submerged artwork that is entitled, “Vicissitudes.” The work was done in honor of the African slaves that died during the Middle Passage and is eco friendly. Taylor, an Anglo-Guyanese sculptor, work is located in the Museo Atlántico, which is underwater near Grenada.