Velma Osborne - Autobiography of Dr. Velma Osborne: Reflects on African American History

Autobiography of Velma F. Osborne
Reflects on Africa American History

Copyright 2014 by Velma Osborne. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

Published in the United States of America

Publisher: Dr. Velma Osborne

PAPER BACK ISBN: 978-1-7366610-3-1

EBOOK ISBN: ISBN: 978-1-7366610-4-8

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019916154

T hanks to God fearing restrictive parents and all those family dinners inclusive of the presence of a hard working father, some minimization of harmful occurrences took place in my life. Good family life halted the effects of environmental negativity to a small degree. I never was involved in the drug scene because of them. Especially, I want to emphasize the role of a mother who was considered only a house wife. Yes, my mother Alberta Viola Forde although a house wife due to the fact that most woman did not work in her era, made strategic decisions for me when I was a reclusive child. I could have been kicked to the wayside at that time and I certainly would not have become the professional person that I am today. My father, Frederick Seton Forde was what they called in his time a Tea Totaler (a person that does not drink any alcoholic beverages). So by example none of his children including my brother became alcoholics either. Thank God for him also. They are both deceased now but I still carry them in my heart.

My husband who I married as a middle age woman is a computer expert. His degree in Business administration has been a perfect harmonious fit for me. To me he is worth more than twice the amount of money that he makes. He handles most of our personal business dealings and is an Assessment Analysts on his job. He also doubles as an Administrative Pastor who in the past has been trusted with balancing flow sheets and a contributor of business and technical advice and trainings. Of course I am the very capable mouth. I have grown because he supports me in all of my endeavors. He is indeed loved and respected by me.

Table of Contents

I

I t is deemed a good thing to begin my story with lifes milestones that outline the specific road I traveled through life. Since you can not see me in writing I will tell you I am a Black woman second generation American originating from Barbados West Indies. Nineteen forty six when I was born was a very good year because World War II had ended a year earlier and all the men came home including my father Frederick Forde. My Parents chose to raise their children in a strict manner. We had to attend St. Ambrose Episcopal Church in Harlem where mostly Barbadian first generation naturalized Americans attended (my mother Albertas father only because my grandmother was deceased). My grandfather on my mothers side Preston Daniel came to America and was processed as an immigrant through Ellis Island, in New York (around 1914). My fathers mother was deceased so I did not get to know her but I got to know his father until I was the age of eight when he passed away. My parents felt it was necessary for us to learn the Word of God by going after service at St. Ambrose to a Brethren Church for their Sunday school lesson.

I am the second of three children. My sister Delcina was the first born and the favored child. When my father Frederick Forde came home from the war in 1945 I was conceived. All children born at that time in history are called baby boomers. Although it sounds like a lot of fanfare being called a boomer, my mother did not want another child at that time. There I was on the scene just 2 years younger than my sister. Since I am 9 years older than my brother Alan, I grew up much closer to my sister. I usually talk about her more because of the age gap between my brother and me.

Delcina was definitely spoiled! It was not only my feeling because of what might be perceived as jealousy, but other people noticed also and commented. During my early childhood my mother noticed I did not stand perfectly straight. Her solution was giving me ballet lesson so I could walk gracefully like my sister. I must have been the stiffest ballet dancer in history! What I had was undiagnosed mild scoliosis (a curvature of my spine). This misinterpretation of my condition as well as a wrong comparison and solution for it contributed to my low self esteem. My low regard for myself was demonstrated in my extreme shy behavior. My parents did not know until I was in my late adolescence the diagnosis of my innate spinal impairment. You look like a question mark, my mother would yell. My father being an extremely quiet man never commented one way or the other. He always left me in limbo. Why was he emo tionless I wondered?

The other obstacle that altered my self image negatively is being raised on 112th street in Harlem between 8th and Manhattan Avenue in the late 1940s to mid 60s. The building we lived in was an old tenement building. Although my father bought a lot of extermination products the roaches still ran from apartment to apartment along with the mice because of cracks along the floor board. One time our landlord would not repair a leak coming from the tenant upstairs toilet plumbing and we had to use an umbrella while sitting on the toilet! This was one of the rare times my father became furious and withheld the rent until the Landlord hurried in a repair man to fix it. Additionally, I used to watch drug addicts taking fixes through the peep hole in our apartment door. This was the era during the 40s through 70s when heroine or alcohol was the addicts drug of choice or all they could afford. Additionally, the elevator stank because alcoholics used it as their bathroom to urinate. My environment definitely did not heighten my ego.

II

Racisms Dramatic
Effect on my Life

T he straw that broke the camels back at the time that I was being raised was racism. Schools were segregated and inferior in my day. Our school did not have the same books that were used in the schools of our White counterpart. We also had mostly Caucasian teachers who had lower expectations for Black children. Additionally we spoke a nonstandard version of English. Our dialect is ruled governed behavior and not haphazard speech. Linguists found that our dialect follows the pattern of speech of West Africans. It was stigmatized in order to reinforce negativity in the persona of Black speakers. The basic problem was in order to become well educated one had to learn to code switch into the standard white Anglo Saxon version of English. Many Blacks were not able to do that because they were not taught the differences in the two dialects. In other words we had to be able to write in Standard English in order to pass English proficiency college exams. Personally, I had to take the college English Proficiency Exam three times before I passed it because all people write in the manner in which they speak!

Although especially Black men had a very high unemployment rate my father had a Civil Service job in the Post Office. In my fathers time this was an extremely good job for a Black man. Thank God because before he received that job and married he was making an incredibly low salary working in a vegetable market. We never went hungry and never were without decent clothing because of his Post Office job. Many Blacks did!