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A History of Blood – Vol. 1, Chapter 7

The first chapter of this story was about the 9th of Av, a Jewish Holiday that communally, mourns the destruction of the First and Second Temples, highlighting Babylonian Exile, the Jewish Diaspora, and the end result of the First Jewish-Roman War. Considering the Hebrew Bible, and by extension, the Holy Bible, both revolve around the First and Second Temple periods respectively, it’s surprising the 9th of Av isn’t a more widely acknowledged holiday. I’ll chalk it up to ignorance or illiteracy.

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Rosh Hashana, however, is a much more widely known, albeit misunderstood holiday. It’s essentially just “Jewish New Years”, and while I wouldn’t call it a “happy” holiday, It is one of my favorite holidays for the way it spiritually renews me.

A large part of my identity is being Jewish. That being said, the problem with being Jewish is two-fold; Politically, most Jewish communities, outside of the Orthodox ones, are Democrats. The Orthodox community makes up only about 10% of the Jewish Population, but the Black Orthodox community being one of the smaller subsets of the Jewish community as a whole.

The Black community, similar to the Jewish community, is also largely Democratic with Black Republicans being only about 10% of the overall black community.

Due to the rarity of Black Republicans, at least in my periphery, I am deeply inspired by Historical Figures, one of my biggest inspirations being the legendary abolitionist Frederick Douglas.

I never realized how much my history overlapped with his until I read his autobiography, which I will share a chapter of today.

Frederick Douglass was appointed as the United States’s minister resident and consul-general to the Republic of Haiti in 1889. He resigned the commission in July 1891 when it became apparent that the American President was intent upon gaining permanent access to Haitian territory regardless of that country’s desires.

Speaking in Baltimore in 1894, he said, “I hope and trust all will come out right in the end, but the immediate future looks dark and troubled. I cannot shut my eyes to the ugly facts before me.”

Haiti would then be invaded by the United States Marines on July 28, 1915 — 330 Marines landed in Port-au-Prince, the same place my (biological) mother would be born a little over half a century later.

I was born in Manhattan, New York City, about 2 miles away from where the Twin Towers used to be. For most of my life, I had no idea who I was. After serving in the military for a few years, I was administratively separated for Fraudulent Enlistment. Not fully understanding why, I went to reenlist, and I was told I would need a new copy of my birth certificate. I ordered the document in September 2024, receiving the document on Rosh Hashana. The version I received on this day was different than the one my foster mother had given me, and after staring at this document for a few hours, my entire life started to make sense. I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace, and a sense of identity.

Suddenly, the name I had tattooed on my arm had even more meaning than before, my aversion to certain women made sense, and the restlessness of my spirit had been replaced with a sense of purpose. Frederick Douglas was right about one thing; slavemasters did not think the information was relevant. But there was something else I learned when studying; slavery was less of a racial issue, and more of a commercial issue. While at a lesser rate than their white counterparts, Free people of color have historically owned slaves.

Additionally, the fastest way to get out of slavery has always been military service.