I am Black History
A Dominican thing is my blackness.
Happy Black History Month! Last year, I posted this video on the Clock app with the viral sound bite, “I’m black ya’ll” along with some black history from a BBC article on the Dominican Republic. This year, I’m keeping this same energy! Although some may not want to acknowledge this month this year. “Their” lack of acknowledgment does not define us.
God acknowledges us. A fellow Afro-Dominicana
said what I was already thinking: “Praise Jesus for a God who sees color and was intentional with shaping us this way as he formed us in our mother’s womb.”In my book, Between Spaces, I wrote a poem called Between the World and Me inspired by Ta-nehisi Coates book.
When I think about the slaves that came to the Americas, which was not the America we know today. I think about my father, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather. You see, those ships landed on the island of Hispaniola. Known today as the Dominican Republic and Haiti. My father, Dr. Francisco Chapman-Veloz, was an ethnic studies professor. He had a PhD in Anthropology, and before he died, my dad showed me his late grandfather’s freedom papers. I was born in the Dominican Republic, and so was my father, but not so far removed, my great-grandfather was a slave. Brought to the island of St.Thomas on a Netherlands ship. When I went by Franceli Chapman, many didn’t believe I was Dominican or Latina because I didn’t have a “Spanish” sounding last name. Growing up, I was always reminding people that I, too, came from slavery and that my last name was evidence of such.
My father was an author and poet and wrote profusely on topics of race, culture, and identity. My debut poetry book, Between Spaces, is a symbol of me picking up the baton my father left. With all his teachings and writings, he has left behind a legacy and history about our family, our culture, and our blackness.
Yet, just like the poem, I wasn’t ready to not be Black enough or Latin enough. When I moved to Los Angeles from New York and joined the Screen Actors Guild, I added my mother’s last name to my stage name. I did this for a few reasons: First, my mother, who came to the country illegally with me and fought tooth and nail to get us citizenship, took $3,000 out of her 401k to gift me the money to join the actors union. Having her last name was my way of honoring her for all the sacrifices she has made. The second reason was that in Hollywood, having the last name Varela legitimized the Latina, or that’s how it felt at the time. When I started to put my Spaniard last name on my headshots, I began to get called in for Latina roles from casting offices that didn’t call me in when I was just Chapman. Thirdly, it was important to walk in and embrace the fullness of my identity. Chapman and Varela. No more allowing others to define my blackness or my Latinidad.
I am a Black woman
I am a Latin woman
and
I am Black History.
