Granny's Biscuits

Ask any person of color who is the heart of the family and you will most likely get some variation of a grandmother. She is the one person who has money when everyone else is broke, food when we’re all starving, and prayers when we seem to have just given up.

I’ll do my best not to generalize all black people’s cultural standards, but for my family- any holiday is an excuse to be gluttonous. No shame. We eat. We drink. We laugh. We even tell old stories with new endings! However, Mother’s Day tends to be a little more special. More than usual, this one time of the year we publicly and proudly share our respect for the stable rock of the family- our mother figures.

My grandmother lives in a little house in a neighborhood surrounded with drug dealers, drug addicts, retired workers, prostitutes, and many alcoholics. She is also surrounded by the good Lord, her family, and her own pot to piss in. In that order, she favors and cherishes and dedicates thanks for every breath that she takes. Now many may ask what makes my grandmother or any family of color’s grandmother any more special. Well, I would have to say her resilience and compassion for all the bull shit that each member of the family brings her. Ranging from her very own children to the great-great grandchildren twice removed, Granny will always be interested to hear you and stay up to date on your financial, emotional, and religious needs. More than that, she will probably have a solution to whatever you're dealing with.

As I gathered in good spirits with the rest of my family on Mother’s Day, I shared my love of her good ole’ home cooked biscuits. Minutes later, I held a cup of sweet tea and freshly baked biscuits that my grandmother handed me with a smile warmer than leather car seats in the Georgia sun. Going the extra mile to make you feel at home: that is the heart of any grandmother’s actions.

As I close this post, I guess what I want you all to think about is that the structure for many black families today does not include the typical father, mother, and children, and that’s okay! Many at-risk African American men, such as myself, don’t necessarily need that. Many of us are raised and molded by the strong matriarch we call our grandmother. She held and sang us to sleep when we were sick. She slipped us candy under the pew at church. She prayed for us when we thought we didn’t need it. And she makes us biscuits, because she knows she won’t be able to for much longer.

My grandmother has survived the times of the Great Depression, Jim Crow laws, Civil Rights Movement, and a black president. Don’t you THINK I will listen when she speaks and act when she instructs? You can't possibly tell me another BLACK figure to be a better influence?

#Granny #Grandmother #Biscuits