We are not victims. Draw on your strengths in times of peril.

On this day of national mourning and deep grief, I am reflecting on my Dad's wisdom.  The Colonel would have been 70 years old today. I can only imagine the amount of pain and sadness our failed national leadership would have caused him today, along with the grief he would be feeling for the families who are now suffering the same tragic pain our family suffered when my brother died in 2001. I am sharing the letter I wrote to my dad when he passed in April, hoping that all who are grieving today can find inspiration in the spirit of our ancestors. 


Dear Dad - The Honorable Lt. Col Armbrister, USMC, Retired,

Words... I can’t find the words to express how I am feeling, how much I love you, and how much you will be missed.  I am confident the word does not exist in our vernacular today.  For many years, I would feel so insulted when people I went to school with or worked with would tell me how articulate I was or when my cousins or friends would say that my brother, Andrew and I “sounded White.”  I couldn’t understand what that meant or why anything I said seemed to be so unusual or extraordinary or inconsistent with my race.  But as I sit here at your desk, in the chair you were occupying less than 48 hours ago as we prepared our company taxes, planned for your birthday cruise to Alaska, and spoke with the architect who is designing our dream house and I sit here missing you and thinking of you, I have an entirely new perspective on being considered articulate. 

I was raised during a time when women, blacks, and even people of my generation were considered less than capable, competent, or worthy by those in majority positions and at times a threat to the image of “Black victimization” that so many whites and blacks wanted to maintain.  You raised me, you raised us not to give in to the negative stereotypes, not to be victims of our own circumstances, not to be victims of our history of slavery, indentured servitude, and poverty.  You raised us to be articulate, proud, and worthy of all the blessings God would bestow upon us in exchange for being kind, good-natured, generous, Christian spirited, faithful, smart, hardworking, hardworking, and hardworking. You taught us to speak clearly and articulately, to speak with pride and respect, and we inherited your passionate, loud and often sailor mouth.  


I keep saying we, because you did not just impact or influence how I speak, but you greatly influenced my brother who loved you more than life itself, your grandchildren, your nieces and nephews, and the thousands of people who you crossed paths with.  I am so proud to be your daughter, your business partner, your confident, health care advocate, and most importantly so glad that we became best friends. I am a reflection of your strength. I am a warrior and will continue your fight for justice.

Rest in peace and love and hug my baby brother and tell him I love him and miss him too.

Love, Your Ladybug