Reading about black history in books is one thing, but actually learning from the elders who lived it is another. I remember stories my late parents and other family members told me about segregation.

There were separate water fountains, separate schools, and different rules and regulations. Nothing was the same for two humans with different skin colors.

It baffled me why it was two of everything. Yet in God’s eyes, we are all His children.

I learned that my ancestors’ names were sometimes not really their birth names. At that time, a woman could have given birth and named her son Charles Lawrence. Paying homage to her and her father’s name. However, if the child was sold into slavery, or born after the slave owners sometimes changed their names.

The only true way to keep account of the birth names was when they were written in the family’s bible. Then I understood why there were so many names written in our family bibles.

As an African American woman, this song speaks volumes to me. Every word written in it has meaning that my ancestors heard to give them hope. Hope that they could be assured that better days were coming.