My grandmother Martha Andrews, for whom I was named, had a saying, “that doesn’t mean us.” And she abided and lived by that her entire life. But what did that mean? These four words impacted her self-identity and her self-determination.
“Granny “as I knew her, was central in influencing my true identity, though I was labeled a “colored” girl. I, of course, knew that I had to obey Jim Crow laws or be punished. However, I knew that I was never to give up my human dignity by going to the back door of a restaurant or shopping where I was not respected. “That doesn’t mean us.”
When asked about her race or ethnic background, she would say “I’m a third, a third, a third.” Her mother was a full-blooded Cherokee Indian. Her father was born of an enslaved woman of color and her white master. She respected all aspects of her bloodline. The “one drop “rule of black blood did not apply to her. My grandmother was a woman who was respected by colored and whites. She had both as close friends.
My grandmother was a very giving woman who followed the cultural traditions of “giving back” to the community, and especially of honoring and taking care of elders in the community. She actually built a house and cared for a local elderly woman who had no family. Granny believed in that woman’s humanity and that of other colored people.
During the 1930s, my grandmother was one of three people who formed the first NAACP chapter in our community
“Granny” taught me that I could achieve anything in life that I wanted. She did. She had three life goals: to have a family, to become a nurse (her mother was a midwife), and to visit the Holy Land. She married, had three girls and lived a very prosperous life.
She achieved her second goal even though she did not graduate from high school. Instead, she, like others of her age group, attended night school for adults at Baker Academy in Punta Gorda. She received her private duty nursing certificate by mail order. Her skills and bedside manner were well-known and much sought after.
And in her elder years she and her cousins went to the Holy Land. I still have the scrapbook from her trip.
“Granny” was a role model for me as a colored woman. She influenced my life choices in many ways.
"In my life, I have found myself as a colored, a negro, a Black, an African American, and a person of color. This is my reflection as a colored girl." This phrase opens each essay in the series “Reflections of a Colored Girl” from Martha R. Bireda, Ph.D. being aired on WGCU FM. Dr. Bireda is a writer, lecturer, and living history performer with over 30 years' experience as a lecturer, consultant and trainer for issues related to race, class, and gender, working with educators, law enforcement, and business, and civic leaders. She also is director of the Blanchard House Museum of African American History and Culture of Charlotte County, in Punta Gorda, Florida. Bireda was born in Southwest Florida in 1945 but spent the first 10 years of her life in a small town in Western Virginia. Her family then moved back to Punta Gorda, where they have deep roots. This is one essay in her series.
