Welcome To The Colored Section
- M. Hakikah Shamsideen
- Jan 21
- 3 min read
For the last few years, I have been working on my family tree. It has been an adventure, and I have learned so much. Each discovery makes me wish I had spoken to my elders and gotten their stories, asked better questions. This morning, I logged into my Ancestry.com account and received a notification about a news clipping from a Jackson, MS, newspaper dated 1945. To see my family's names in print was mind-blowing. Like voices from beyond. These kinds of discoveries have happened several times. Genealogy is research, certainly,, but it's very spiritual.
It was a short blurb stating that my mother, from Harlem, NYC, was in Jackson visiting her mother-in-law, a resident of the city. The article also shared that my mother was the wife of a native son, my father, who was serving in Italy during WWII. (Out of respect for my family, I’ve chosen not to share the original clipping publicly. The story it tells, however, is one I carry—and pass on—with care.)
This short paragraph reminded me of the story my mother recounted to my siblings and me. She told us her mother-in-law visited NY to see her first grandchild, my sister Paula. She asked my mother if she could take her to Mississippi to meet that side of the family. Why my mother allowed her infant daughter to travel via train down south is beyond me, but, back to the story…
My mother, who was born and raised in Harlem, New York, had never been to the South before she traveled by train through the Jim Crow era in 1945. She recounted that when she crossed the Mason-Dixon line, the porter informed her that she had to move to the "colored section". Additionally, she was advised not to speak, as her "proper" accent could attract unwanted attention.
Photo: The Colored Entrance by Gordon Parks.
She made it down and back without incident, but reading that clip got me thinking. My mother went behind enemy lines to get her daughter. There was no telling what might have happened to her if not for God's grace. My father left Canton, Mississippi, and "rode the rails" at the age of 16 to join his father in Chicago, both a part of the Great Migration. My father told us he left because lynchings in the area occurred almost nightly.
My granddaughter returned from school and mentioned learning about "a man named MLK." She wore a puzzled expression, not fully understanding the importance of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King. I spent the weekend sharing stories and YouTube videos with her and her brothers about Dr. King, Ruby Bridges, and others.
Photo 1: Martin Luther King escorting children to school. Photo 2: Lillian Bridges escorting her daughter Ruby to school. It struck me how easy it is—for all of us—to take hard-won rights for granted. When we do, we risk dishonoring the lives of those who made it possible for us to do the most ordinary things: shop freely, stay in hotels, sit in classrooms, move through the world with dignity.
It's up to us to keep our history alive. Our attitude and actions towards our history, our heroes, and sheros, determine the attitude of the generation behind us. It is our responsibility to keep the flame lit. My parents did that for us. They surrounded us with Black literature, art, and media. They didn’t shove it down our throats; it was an integral part of who they were, and I learned by extension, as their child, who I was as well.
While writing this piece, I couldn’t stop humming the chorus of this song:
Scripture for reflection:
"Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as reminders on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. / Teach them to your children, speaking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.
Write them on the doorposts of your houses and on your gates,"
Prompt: How can or do you integrate your family and cultural history into your home?
A Closing Prayer
God of our mothers and fathers,
Thank you for the courage that carried them through dangerous roads and uncertain days.
Help us to remember well, to tell the truth with care, and to pass wisdom forward with love
.May we honor their sacrifices not only with words, but with lives that reflect gratitude,
justice, and reverence.
Keep the flame burning in us, for those who come after.
Amen.
Comments