You know how something can be right in your face for the longest time and you don’t even notice it? Well, that happened to me a long time ago. I was in the mall when I saw one of those carts where they sell everything at the cost of your firstborn. The particular cart that caught my attention was one where a person could trace their roots by just typing your last name on the computer they had provided for their potential customers. I typed in my last name B-R-A-Y-B-O-Y and waited with great anticipation expecting finally see some graphic that would show me “my peoplesâ€ÂÂ. To my disappointment, the search results found nothing. Come to find out, their computers were only programmed to trace European family lineages, not black.

It wasn’t too long after that incident that I remember my Dad telling me that our last name was actually Native American. It wasn’t until one of our annual trips “down south†that we were able to find out at a local city hall that our name was in fact Native American. My dad also told me of various family members he knew of that were clearly half or pure Native American.

When the Internet came along (Whew! Now I feel old) I was then able to find out some more history tied to my last name. Fortunately, I was able to trace my “Indian†roots all the way to the Lumbee nation in the Carolinas. Just as I began to get excited about this new revelation about myself, I soon found out that my mother’s maiden name also originated from that same tribe. She also told me of family members on her side that were clearly half or pure Native American. Fortunately, my mom’s side of the family were very good with saving old pictures of these family members so that I could see for myself. Both my Grandmother and Grandfather had very distinct Native American features. Unfortunately, I got stuck with the nappy hair(Something that I am still proud of, thank you)

Like many Native American tribes of that day, the Lumbee provided a safe haven for slaves that escaped the various plantations in the South. African slaves that were stripped of name, identity, culture were “grafted†into the welcoming Indian culture. I find myself fortunate that my last name reflects that kinship.

What is really sad to me as a black person is that many of us black folk have very similar backgrounds that we know very little about. The term “black†has become our catch-all cultural identity thanks to ignorant whites in the south who at that time did not know any better. All they saw was “blackâ€ÂÂ, so that is what we became to the worldâ€â€Âjust black.

I have nothing but regret for all of the years I missed in discovering my Native American heritage due to just plain ignorance. It has been equally frustrating to try to get family lineage information from family members who have all their lives, not only seen themselves as just “blackâ€ÂÂ, but neglect to see the importance of piecing our history together again.

One of my favorite pastimes is looking at the faces of other black Americans. It is so neat to see our various skin tones, bone structures, eye colors, lips, etc. The most unique black person that I have ever seen was a little girl that had a very beautiful dark complexion with blue eyes (mind you, she was not wearing contacts). All of these characteristics that make us all unique not only come from Africa, but the other cultures that have blended with us. This is something that our future generations cannot neglect as many of us have done. The “system” may see us as just “black”, but we do ourselves a great disservice when we see ourselves the same way.

Being able to see first hand through the various faces of past and present relatives that my bloodline is intermingled with another race have given me a sense of greater empowerment, not validation (very important that you get that point) I will always love my African roots, because Africa is and will always be a part of me. At the same time I must not neglect the cultures that I know about that are right under my skin.

Oh, one other thing. I was also able to find out the original spelling of my last name: going backwards it is Brayboy, before that it was Braveboy, and then finally it was Brave. Isn’t that neat?