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John Smeby's avatar

I must have been falling asleep in American History when these lessons were taught. Or, perhaps, they were never included? Thanks, Charlie, for chronicling your family history. Illuminating to say the least …

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Randy Dillinger's avatar

Thanks for sharing, Charlie. Complicated family histories can shed light and shine wisdom on our own complicated times. It seems the work of renewal and reconciliation is never done, and we need lessons from our past. Thank you!

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Rob  Birks's avatar

Yes & Amen!

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Cheyenne Medders's avatar

Thank you for this glimpse into the many stories held by ancestry. It’s so fascinating. May love and freedom in the name of Jesus continue to defeat slavery throughout the world.

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Penny Samson's avatar

Wow! You've have really done your research! Fascinating to hear! And yes, let's celebrate together and remember all of our African American brothers and Sisters!

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Melinda Gales's avatar

Especially, “a full and irreversible freedom for all, what Jesus called the kingdom come”

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Pamela Weiss's avatar

Such a hidden and important piece of history - thank you for walking the path to share it!

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Adjoa Skinner Webb's avatar

Thank you for living as a bridge by sharing your heritage and its beautiful history 🫶🏼 bless you Charlie!

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Kirk Jordan's avatar

Fascinating. I love this boliday and see it through tbe lens of emancipation...physical, social, and spiritual.

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Raymond Houston Bridges's avatar

Good shorthand version of the story. The devil’s in the details, though. It’s such a fascinating story, too. I’ve never understood why Hollywood never picked up on it. My sisters and I observe Juneteenth, and maybe one or two others, but sadly, most of our cousins identify more with the oppressor than with the oppressed. I used to be proud of being a Redbone.

I’m more White than dark, but I was raised by my Redbone grandmother who was born in 1888, so in many respects, I am closer to the roots of the tree. I liked and identified with those Redbones from the late 19th century. We had a shared identity. I was one of them. Until I was six, my Redbone name was Sonny, Aunt Minnie’s grandson, you know, Ruth’s boy, the one whose daddy got kilt. At least that’s how I was introduced to my dozens of cousins.

I’ve moved on and have a new tribal identity, kinda sorta like James and Keziah did when they left South Carolina for Texas, but I remember when one simply was a Redbone living an uncomplicated life in southwest Louisiana and southeast Texas.

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