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In February, I received a call from the Rev. Angela Robinson, associate pastor of Congregational United Church of Christ, asking me if I would speak at her church March 13.

She informed me that March is Women’s History Month, and she wanted me to talk about the contributions of black women in the historical development and cultural life of High Point.

For the first time, I felt ill-prepared to speak on a subject, and I expressed my reservations to Robinson weeks later.
I told her I have always had problems with words like “contributions,” “important” and “outstanding” when it comes to people. Simply come and share your views with us on the 13th, she said.

Her vote of confidence was appreciated, but I still had doubts about pulling this one off.

Too often, recognition is based on your degrees, money, profession, social status, associates, clubs and organizations. This doesn’t meet my definition of contributions, outstanding, or important, and I was about to let the folks at Congregational hear my definition.

I have spoken at Congregational twice before, but I wasn’t sure if I could deliver a message worthy of the occasion. I worried about making one person sound more important than someone else based on some inadequate means of measurement.

However, when I sat down at my computer, my hands quickly began recording what the Almighty was putting in my head. Of course, His spelling and grammar are much better than mine.

Congregational is a small congregation with big hearts and country-style praising the Lord, which makes you feel at home. As I sat in the pulpit and listened to the Statement of Faith, prayers, music and singing, I knew my message would be understood.

My opening remarks were taken from a speech given by Frederick Douglass in 1848, when he addressed the Pioneer Women’s Rights convention in Seneca Falls, N.Y.

It was an eloquent speech, and these two sentences speak volumes of his respect and support of black women: “Her right to be and to do is as full, complete and perfect as the right of any man on earth. I say of her, as I say of the colored people, 'Give her fair play and hands off.’”

Next, I read comments by our famous black poet Langston Hughes to set the stage for my definition of important contributors. Hughes once said, “A strong black woman is the key to a strong black family.”

This author credits women for carrying and nurturing the torch of hope for a better life and for the inspiration for their children to achieve.

That said, I was ready to bring forth my message, fueled by people calling me over the years asking for the 10 or 15 most important people to graduate from William Penn High School or A.J. Griffin School.

This question makes my blood boil because I know they are looking for doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs. My response has always been, “Who are you and I to determine who is important in my community?” Then I explain those folks I consider worthy of recognition...

All those black women who got stuck in old run-down flats, apartments and homes, but managed to maintain their dignity and raise families that became good citizens.

Those black women who saw a need for and created various civic, religious and social clubs. Their visions helped mold and shape our community in so many positive ways.

Those black women who wiped away our tears and endured our pain, no matter if you were good or bad. They knew how to make potions that cured what was ailing us when there was no money to do it with.

Those black women who worked hard all their lives until their backs bent from weakness and filled their golden years with pain. The lack of medical care for osteoporosis and menopause stole their youth and vigor.

All those black women who got us started in the church, and then let us plot our own road to heaven.

Those black women who were unable to receive a formal education but made sure their kids did.

Those black women who were violated by white men and kept the shame bottled up within them. I had a great-great-grandmother who lived in Trinity and a great-great-great-grandmother who lived in Jackson County who suffered that fate.

Those black women who were violated and abused by their spouses, relatives or other members of the community.

Those black women who worked in dry cleaners and mills in temperatures that would kill most folks.

Those black women who were maids and nannies for white families while sacrificing time with their own families. They had to help put food on the table.

Those black women who whipped and spanked our rear end when we were wrong. That’s what you call Strap Psychology 101, and it worked.

Those black women who could stretch a dime into what seemed like a million dollars.

Those black women who wore those same outfits every day so their kids could have a decent outfit to wear.

Those black women who took food that would gag a maggot and turned it into a dish fit for a king. They worked wonders with chicken feet, gizzards, hearts, backs, chitterlings, pig feet, snout, ears, tails, and stomach.

Last but not least, those black women who showed up by the hundreds and sometimes thousands to see their kids perform at Leonard Street, Fairview, Griffin, and Willilam Penn. They put in countless hours sewing outfits for their kids to wear.

Most of us will never forget May Day and cheers and smiles on the faces of our mothers, grannies, sisters, and aunts as we performed.
Those women fit my definition of who is a contributor, who is important, and who is outstanding.

They are truly worthy of being recognized for helping to nourish our racial tree in High Point.

Glenn Chavis researches and writes about High Point’s black history. Contact him at Storytime40@aol.com.