Tell Them Where You're From

A family reunion gave these words new meaning

Dear Reader,

Myles and I attended our first-ever family reunion this past weekend. It was filled with food, family, Boots on the Ground, and The O’Jays on repeat. I seen a kid who couldn’t have been in middle school yet playing Spades, and enough fried fish that would’ve gave Jesus a run for his money. I come from a small family, but when I met my wife, that family grew—two aunty teams, three dozen cousins, and lots and lots of chirren. What I love most is all of them, all 200 of them, call me Uncle Marc. As much as I miss my family back home, these people are my family, and we stick closer than some cold grits.

This past weekend made me think about a poem and video I recorded for Myles that I shared with you all when he was still in diapers, just about six months old. I use to record these more often before Myles got his feet under him. You can watch them here.

This poem i’m resharing feels even more special after the reunion. It reminds me that—along with these letters, like the photos shared this past weekend of loved ones who are no longer here—it will outlive us. The words I wrote to him will one day be shared with the person he chooses to love and perhaps the children he may raise. I find comfort in knowing I am not only writing for him, but also for the family I may never meet.

There is a beauty in knowing that when they look for me on any family tree, there will be letters, videos, and notes showing how I lived and loved. I am reminded that these letters are not just about Myles, but about the legacy we will leave behind.

When I first shared this poem with you, there were only about 800 of you here. Now, there are over 4,000. If you are hearing or seeing it for the first time, I hope it brings you warmth and inspires you to write your own. Until Myles can read these for himself, your support, love, and encouragement keep me going.

Love,

Marc Typo

Dear Myles,
This is for when they ask, "Where are you from?"

Tell them you were born in Birmingham, Alabama, in the presence of black aunties who welcomed you into the world while your father cried with gratitude. 

Tell them you were conceived in Ethiopia, in a small town called Debre, Birhan. Your father a teacher, your mother a leader, and God the visionary.

Tell them you’re from catfish and grits, and Soup Joumou on the first day of the year. One for good luck, the other for liberation - double the blessing. 

From I ain't studdin you to pa jwe avèm, two tongues masterfully woven in a language only you can understand.

From bel ti gason and that boy clean, and so many aunties that could form an auntie  football team.

Tell them you’re from Crown Heights and Ensley, your mama and daddy, rare breeds when you pollinate roses and concrete. 

Tell them without a stutter in your tongue, you're from a pocket full of Poseys, all about the Princes, and "Yo Pierre, you wanna come outside?"

From parents who prayed, grandmother's testimonies, and aunties who said, “Don't worry y'all, it'll happen.” 

Tell them the world was waiting for you to arrive,

You're the blessing the ancestors dreamed for,

You are God’s gift to the planet.

Love, 
Daddy

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Let me know your thoughts:

1. Did you watch the video? What are your raw thoughts?

2. Where are you from, and what unique cultural nuggets make your roots special?

3. Ever had to navigate between two tongues like "I ain't studdin ya" to "pa jwe avèm"? What’s it like for you?

4. Parents: My wife and I come from two beautiful yet different backgrounds. How do you balance giving a child both?

5. What's one piece of advice, prayer, or testimony from your family that has stayed with you?

6. This poem was a take on George Ella Lyons' "Where I’m From" Poem. Feel free to drop a stanza or two if you like!

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