Incident

Once riding in old Baltimore,

   Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,

I saw a Baltomorean

   Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,

   And he was no whit bigger,

And so I smiled, but he poked out

   His tongue, and called me, "Nigger."

I saw the whole of Baltimore

    From May until December:

Of all the things that happened there

   That's all that I remember.

By Countee Cullen

I thought I would share this poem. I'm gearing up to write an essay for my college composition class and have to pull from some piece that we've read thus far. This is definitely the one I'm picking. I haven't gone too deep into analyzing it and picking it apart yet, but I think it comes across clearly enough that you can feel the impact and the meaning upon first and second readings.

Can you see it? Some little kid from the 1920s or so is off galavanting with his or her parents in the big, pretty town of Baltimore Maryland and has his or her first encounter with dehumanization. Sad, huh? I remember the first time someone called me stupid. I cried. I forget sometimes how unnatural dehumanization is to us when we first enter this world. Maybe we grew up being called names, but before then we were totally (and blissfully) unaware of that terrible feeling of maybe what that person is saying I am is true...Maybe I really am not worth what I thought I was...

You know, during those happy, innocent days before anyone ever called us anything other than "sweetie," "honey," "pumpkin," or whatever pet names you were called (although I understand some of us come from far more hostile home situations) we were completely confident in our value and our worth. We knew that we were precious. We knew that we were loved. For many of us, mama or papa was always there to reassure us when something bad happened... or at least that was way it was supposed to be. But then we bumped into other little kids, or even adults, who didn't see our value. They didn't see us as precious or worth loving. Out of their lack of perspective and their lack of understanding, they spoke into our lives. They called us names - just like that boy called the narrator of this little poem.

I want to reassure your heart, dear friend, that there is Someone to whom you are immensely valuable. You are always precious in His eyes. He sees the ups, the downs, the ins, the outs; the negatives, the positives, the righteousness, and the sin. He knows you inside and out, but you are still of infinite worth to His great heart. He has perfect perspective and understanding of every facet of your being. In fact, He's the only one with a clear view of who you are. That being so, in truth, He is the only one who can rightly define you. Only His opinion - His words over your life - really matter, because all the people of the past who caked on labels and names on you that were never meant to fit you did so because they lacked right perspective. They didn't understand the preciousness and the dignity of who you are - and of who you are to Him. So don't be defined by all the names and misspoken words. Let only what He says define you. Let him speak to you of your value.