By Jasmine Clemente
I hardly ever reveal that I’m related to the late major league Pirates baseball player, Roberto Clemente, who died in a 1972 New Year’s Eve plane crash headed to Nicaragua in rescue efforts to deliver food and medical supplies after a devastating earthquake. I wasn’t even born yet, so obviously, we never met. But even if so, he’s pretty far down the line of my family tree, being my grandfather’s first cousin, which would make him my third.
Oftentimes, when people hear my last name, they ask, “Could you be, are you, actually related to Roberto Clemente?” When I confirm that I am, I always receive that starry-eyed look of amazement because Roberto Clemente was not only one of the best baseball players of his time, but he died a hero — something that he will forever be highly respected for: a true legend in his right. And I’m forever grateful to have this beautiful ancestor. Thus, I have finally realized just how much responsibility comes with carrying the name, and I’ll tell you why.
In 2020, when the world was rocked by the murder of African American, George Floyd, screaming “Mama” as he lost oxygen underneath the pressing force of a police officer’s knee, the BLM conversation exploded through what is now referred to as “sacred rage.” It’s an anger that traces back through generations, echoing from behind layers and layers of hundreds and even thousands of race wars.
Within the messiness of everyone’s cries with the hopes of being heard, understood, and justified, I was tagged on social media for being reminded that I am an Afro Latina who should defend the BLM movement. But if I’m completely honest, I was conflicted.
I remember the day, clearly, when CNN aired the disturbing video footage of George Floyd repeatedly, for hours, days, and even weeks. My first reaction was, “This is a tragedy.” My second reaction was, “They’re triggering people’s emotions — on purpose.”
Although I am glad that the media is a powerful source of information providing worldwide news, my intuition didn’t trust the intentions behind why it was being aired. Nevertheless, the universe wanted us to have an eye-opener, and whether we could stomach it or not, destiny revealed our shadows as a collective society. Perhaps, for some much-needed healing, for a toxic purge, and/or, for a reality check — on all of us. No exceptions. No exclusions.
Back in the heydays of Roberto Clemente’s fame, the civil rights movement was at its peak with Malcolm X being assassinated in 1965, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr assassinated in 1968, and Mohammed Ali refusing to fight in the Vietnam war which landed him a five-year prison sentence. It was indeed, a time when people were willing to pay the price for their courage, sacrificing their own safety and comforts in order for others to see the bigger picture. Within this time frame, Roberto Clemente was also faced with discrimination due to his heavy accent as an Afro Latino and laughed at by journalists for his mispronunciation when speaking his second language, English. In fact, Clemente quotes, “The farther away you writers stay, the better I like it. You know why? Because you’re trying to create a bad image of me… You do it because I’m Black and Puerto Rican, but I’m proud to be Puerto Rican.”
It’s heartwarming to know that a Hall of Famer used his platform to walk the walk and talk the talk, inspiring others to live with dignity and confidence despite living in a world that tried to make one feel small and insignificant. And while I admire these jewels of wisdom that Clemente bestowed upon us throughout his earthly incarnation, I’d like to use my own unique voice as a descendant of one of the greatest humanitarians of all time to speak on certain issues since I am alive in this current generation carrying the “Clemente” name and what it stands for.
First, let me note: I am not Roberto Clemente’s daughter, sister, granddaughter, or wife. I am just a cousin within the same family tree, but then again, aren’t we all connected to the same human roots when we really look that deep into it? Therefore, my opinions are solely mine, Jasmine Clemente’s, but I hope that my perspective reaches into the hearts that it’s meant to serve.
Here we are in 2022, more than 50 years after Clemente’s transition into the spiritual realms honoring our ancestors live’s mission while dealing with current issues that resemble similarities from the past but are not completely identical.
Yes, today is a bit different than yesterday.
And we see this, in this age of crystal-loving, yogi-practicing, vegan eating, nomad traveling, and soul-tribe families. A little like the 60’s “Peace, Love, And No War,” but not quite the same, right? This generation talks about shadow work and toxic positivity; a level of awareness that wasn’t acknowledged back then. Seems to me that we must be advancing — spiritually, not just intellectually.
Personally, I had dealt with racism growing up as well. It’s a real thing. When I was 12 years old, my Puerto Rican mother married an Italian man from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, and we moved into the suburbs of Staten Island. I remember the first day my mother brought me to sign up at the local Junior High School. As we approached the front desk to meet the principal, the bell rang, releasing a floodgate of white students leaving their classrooms to roam down the hallways into their next period. Jaw-dropping, I stood there in culture shock as my heart sunk deep into the pit of my stomach.
I was the only Latina in the entire school.
Well, actually, when I started school the following week, I learned that I was the third Latina within an intermediate school featuring three grades: 6th, 7th, and 8th. Culture shock is an understatement.
I had come from a diverse background having relocated from Brooklyn where the dominant race I’d been used to socializing with looked like a popped-opened bag of Skittles featuring every color of the rainbow. I had Middle Eastern friends from Pakistan, Egypt, and Arabia. Black friends from Jamaica, Africa, and the West Indies. Latinos from Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Mexico, and Peru. Asian friends from Korea, China, India, and the Philippines. But this new world that I had just walked into, deep inside the suburbs of Staten Island, consisted of predominantly Italians, Irish, German, French, and Greek.
Here’s the thing: Before mingling with all those white students, I didn’t even differentiate between Caucasian ethnicities. I just thought that white was white. How ignorant was I?
It wasn’t until I was forced into a culture unfamiliar to my own that I had to learn about theirs’, and they had to learn about mine. At times, yes, I was called a Spic in school, looked down upon, and made fun of. But I was also celebrated, admired, and even feared. There was a learning curve that took place between myself and my classmates— even with the teachers. And, do you know what? Eventually, good overcame evil because we all got along, and we became better people for unlearning certain biases that took real time and effort to shift, despite my feelings first getting hurt. Forgiveness and understanding is a powerful thing, as it is the only real medicine for the soul.
Fast forward to today. There are a lot of great points that were made by the BLM movement that I absolutely agree with such as systematic racism — when talking about the projects, ghettos, or “hoods” in underrepresented communities where so many Blacks and Latinos get incarcerated before they even have a chance to really mature and grow up — making it too late for some of them to correct mistakes that other kids get to wipe out with a fresh clean slate. However, despite agreeing with some of the points made in the BLM movement, I did not agree with all of them, nor was I swayed to vote Democratic. This is where it gets interesting.
This past election when Kamala Harris ran to become the first woman of color Vice President as part of the political package, I was not moved to vote for either candidate — Trump or Biden. So, I simply did not vote at all. I don’t say this with pride or shame. I say it because there were actually thousands of others who did not feel compelled to vote either. Confused, conflicted, uninspired, and feeling neutral about the state of the world, there were many who began heavily doubting our country’s leadership abilities. But, do you know who I would be excited to vote for? Marianne Williamson.
For those of you who haven’t heard of her, she’s a world-class motivational speaker and NY Times best-selling Author whose written dozens of books including A Course In Miracles, The Age of Miracles, and A Politics of Love. Now, just imagine if politics as a whole were operated from the love frequency instead of from the “fear and intimidation” frequency. What a different world it would be — but it sounds very unrealistic — for now, at least. As we’ve seen, many radical changes have been taking place and nothing is off limits when it comes to creating this new world. Hence, we’re currently in Leo season, symbolic of the Lion, King of The Jungle, which represents courage, leadership, dominance, pride, confidence, and royalty. This brings me back to the odd coincidence of how something intuitively compelled me to write about Roberto Clemente, when suddenly I realized that his birthday is this month — born on August 18th, 1934. Is his energy still floating around the ether fields? It’s possible. Nevertheless, with Roberto Clemente being a Leo, it is even more confirmation that he was a leader of his time. But in this lifetime, I also happen to have a Leo ascendant which is my rising sign, thus, it might possibly lend to some of my own leadership abilities and why I am writing such a unique piece about how we can balance out social injustices with a softer heart.
I had been tempted to choose a side when election time came around because depending on which President you vote for, you basically choose either a Democratic President or a Republican. But my stance was and still is, independent. And I highly dislike the degree of division that this country is headed in. Back when Obama was President, I think it was one of the best times in history — from my experience so far. I was in awe of Obama’s character; how he and his family carried themselves with such class, integrity, and compassion. His wife, Michelle Obama, was a fierce role model to marvel upon whenever she would speak, and my admiration for her had nothing to do with her political affiliation, race, ethnicity, or even her gender. It all had to do with the full vibrancy of her spirit. “When they go low, we go high,” I’ll never forget her saying.
This is what Marianne Williamson talks about: the ability to lead compassionately. I wholeheartedly agree. But during the 2020 BLM protests, cancel culture grew in power which silenced the voice of the other political party, and that’s where they completely lost me. In fact, famed Podcaster Joe Rogan is a prime example of how he was almost canceled for hosting a conversation that questioned the left’s perspective on how effective or ineffective the Science is behind Covid — another topic that’s somewhat intertwined with all of the other issues buzzing underneath the Democratic umbrella. Yet again, Michelle Obama is Democratic and so is Marianne Williamson, and they are two of my favorite women.
Where does Roberto Clemente come into play with all of this? Well, what would he say if he was alive today? What would any of the public figures say from the civil rights movement: Mohammed Ali, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Malcolm X, and others? Speaking of which, wasn’t it Malcolm who said, “I’m for truth, no matter who tells it. I’m for justice, no matter who it is for or against. I’m a human being first and foremost, and as such I’m for whoever and whatever benefits humanity as a whole.”
That sounds to me like it wouldn’t matter if you were Muslim, Jew, or Christian, Black or White, Gay or Straight, or even Republican or Democrat. And that’s where my head and heart are at today. Cancel culture, to me, robs us of the opportunity to authentically learn from each other. Even though sometimes, people say and do cruel things, it’s our freedom of speech that creates the platform to learn and grow by sharing different perspectives at different stages of our evolution. The truth is, people, change — if they are free to do so.
Out of respect for my long-distance humanitarian cousin, I want to honor his memory by applauding his courage to speak up despite living in a rough climate, and for also choosing to defend his teammates and others who were afraid to challenge authority. In fact, Clemente was so brave that he flew to Nicaragua on his own private plane just to ensure that he, himself, would give food and medical supplies to the victims of the earthquake, instead of entrusting their government to disperse it for him. So, you see, this man took matters into his own hands and stood up against all odds just so that he can stay true to himself. He wasn’t peer pressured nor could anyone twist his arm. This was a man of integrity who lived a life well remembered and well respected.
May we all choose to live this way for the greater good of the whole, because each generation watches and learns from the last.
Image by Katherine Hanlon for Unsplash
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism | Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box | The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer | What We Talk About When We Talk About Men |
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Main image by Miguel Bruna for Unsplash