Why we should all think like an Ancestor
Transcriber: Park Erica
Reviewer: David DeRuwe
Has your life ever been changed
by someone you’ve never actually met,
someone whose hands you’ve never touched,
and yet somehow they have touched you,
someone whose voice you’ve never heard,
but whose words echo in your ears -
transformational figures
who transformed you?
For me, there are many,
but I’m going to share
two of the ones who were most pivotal
in my life as a Black British woman.
I remember well the first of these.
I met her when I was nine years old,
and my dad walked through the door
and handed me the book
that would change my life.
It was this book.
Now, the handing of a book by my dad to me
was not a novel occurrence
in and of itself.
In fact, as a second-generation
immigrant of Jamaican parents,
the importance of reading and education
was a message that was driven home
very early and very sternly.
So I took hold of it
and began to explore its cover,
“The Wonderful Adventures
of Mrs. Seacole in Many Lands,”
and that is where I met the first
of my transformational figures,
Mary Seacole, the venerated
Jamaican-British nurse and businesswoman
who’d led an astonishingly
inspirational life.
From reading about Mary,
I have had three distinct epiphanies:
First, that she left a powerful legacy.
Second, that we are all shaping legacies.
And third, the importance
of hearing the stories of women
and of women who look like me -
because even though Mary Seacole
did not have biological children,
somehow, some 100 years later,
the choices she made,
the courage she acted with,
and the mountains she climbed
inspired one little nine-year-old girl
in another time and another country
to believe that the impossible
could happen for her, too.
And though we were in no way
connected genetically,
there was something of the essence
and spirit of the strong Black woman
that captured my heart,
and I claimed as my own.
I liken the experience
to how when we celebrate D-Day,
we think of family members
who gave their lives for our freedoms,
or when we watch a television series
like “Who Do You Think You Are?”
we witness the sheer elation
of a celebrity learning about
the great feats of their four parents.
When we hear stories of people who look
like us and indeed of those who don’t,
it helps us to appreciate the contribution
to humanity that all races have made.
So for me, Mary Seacole
is, for all intents and purposes,
an ancestor.
And the truth is, we here today
will one day be ancestors;
one day we will be someone’s ancestor.
Someone somewhere,
be known to us or otherwise,
will be impacted in some way
by the choices we’ve made,
the courage we’ve acted with,
and the mountains we’ve climbed.
Or didn’t climb.
Or failed to act with.
Or didn’t choose.
I wonder how differently
we would live and lead
or how different our world
would be if we were to live
with a more conspicuous
awareness of the fact
that we are leaving a lasting legacy,
that our choices matter and impact others
now and for generations to come.
As I reflect on this idea of legacy,
I think about Jonas Salk,
the American virologist
and medical researcher
who developed one
of the first polio vaccines,
Salk’s vaccine is estimated
to have saved millions of lives.
When asked about whether
he wanted to patent the vaccine,
he refused and said instead,
“The most important question
we must ask ourselves is,
‘Are we being good ancestors?’”
I suspect that if we were to live
with this level of consciousness,
less short-termism and more long-termism,
we would live and lead very differently.
If we were to use the notion of legacy
as a forward thinking,
forward planning tool and paradigm,
I believe that we would call ourselves
to a higher standard
of living and leading and serving.
We would act with greater courage.
We would speak truth to power.
We would take a firmer
stand against injustice
because we would want those
who came after us to know
that they could learn positive lessons
from the way we’ve lived our lives.
We would want to carve out a world
that was better for them
than the way we found it.
We would want them
to live with a greater sense
of purpose and meaning.
Now, that leads me to my
second transformational figure:
I came across her during a casual
conversation one afternoon with my aunt.
Now, this is the aunt in the family
who knows all of the old wives’ tales
and the folklore and the mythology.
But on this particular day, as she
told me this particular story,
I was completely transfixed.
She explained how her grandmother,
my great grandmother,
who had raised my aunt in Jamaica,
would often tell her tales
of her grandmother,
how her grandmother was a Jamaican Maroon
who’d lived in the Blue Mountain area
of Portland, Jamaica,
how the Maroons had once been
enslaved peoples of the Spanish
but had secured
their freedom and sanctuary
in the deep, thick forestation
of the Blue Mountains.
Of how those Maroons, my direct ancestors,
became freedom fighters
for the new wave of enslaved people
who were brought to the island.
It was striking for me.
It was striking because at that time
I was about to embark on my career
as a criminal barrister,
and the driving force that had inspired me
from the age of 14 was this idea
of justice and equality.
It was about challenging the status quo
where it perpetuated unfairness.
The story connected with my inner resolve
to fight in my own way
for the liberation of those
who were negatively impacted
by societal disparities.
I was emblazoned. I felt alive.
I felt called.
Once again, the life led
by an ancestor had impacted me.
More recently, I began
to more fully appreciate the fact
that I will one day be an ancestor,
and this realization
came through my daughter.
Again, it was when I was about to embark
on my legal career
as a criminal barrister,
and my family was incredibly proud,
my husband was incredibly proud,
my community was incredibly proud.
After all, I was a young Black
woman who was embarking
on a professional career in a sector
that had for many years discriminated
against people who looked like me.
And just as I was about to leave
for London and commence my training,
I discovered that I was pregnant.
Now, on the one hand, we were extremely,
supremely excited; amazing news.
I knew that I wanted
to have children one day.
Someday, but now?
Now, when I’m about to embark on my career
securing a place at a much
sought-after set of chambers,
now when I’ve already overcome
so many hurdles and obstacles to get here,
now, when maternity rights
for employed women were woeful,
let alone for me
who was about to be a trainee.
I almost gave up.
I almost decided to call it a day
and say thanks for the place,
I know there’s no point
asking for you to hold it for me
while I have this baby.
I almost did,
but then I remembered Mary,
and I remembered the grandmother Maroon,
and I remembered that I, too,
will one day be an ancestor,
and I must take my place.
So I said to this unborn child,
“I choose today
to live a life that shows you
that whatever interruptions
happen in your life,
you can and you must pursue
your dreams and your ambitions.
History demands this of me,
and history will demand this of you too.”
So I called - trembling hands,
trembling voice, trembling knees -
but thankfully my conversation
was with a wonderful lawyer,
herself a Black female barrister,
who reassured me it would all be fine.
And indeed it was.
And because of her, I was able
to practice at the bar for 16 years.
Because of her, that same unborn child
who I spoke of, my daughter,
is now embarking on her
own career as a barrister,
fighting for justice,
speaking truth to power,
playing her part to fight the wrongs
in the corner of the world
that she inhabits.
As a woman, as a Black British woman,
the understanding
that I will one day be an ancestor
will continue to serve
as a clarion call for me.
I must play my part
to ensure that the gender pay gap
and ethnicity pay gap are reduced.
I must play my part in speaking up
about the underrepresentation of women
and, in particular, Black women
at senior levels in our society.
I must play my part
in seeking to build bridges
that we together can work together
to break down the walls that so easily
and so needlessly divide us.
What about all of us here today?
What difference would it make
if we all led our lives
and led others with our legacy in mind?
What if we all lived more consciously
of the fact that we
will one day be ancestors?
How much better would
our homes, our workplaces,
and our world be for everyone?
(Applause) (Cheers)