Ma, Sherry Amor

Words by John Brown

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Ma, Sherry Amor

Dear mama,


Thank you.

Thank you for covering me with your love, ever-growing and organic.
You protected me, helping me to develop my own character, while picking up your dry sense of humor along the way.


Thank you for exposing me, showing me the many paths I can pursue with the potential you provided me.


You understood that letting me interact with the potentially volatile components of our environment would result in a complex product.


That when done correctly, the balance would prevent me from becoming sour, yet display to me, and the world, that for us, life doesn’t have to end with deferred dreams.

That in America, they think we’re only dark, dense, and nutty.


That everything ain’t sweet for us.


You taught me that although we’ve been here since the beginning, yet they refuse to accept our native cultures, because this isn’t our origin, we’re merely exports.


That this will make my maturation process difficult, but that cultural differences aren’t bad and should be embraced. And that the pressures of the competitive atmosphere, are what impart the complexity within me: Although many producers fear the exposure will cause the essence from which we originate to take a turn for the worse.


But look at me now.


Today, it seems like America has begun to wake up: Appreciate our history and celebrate our variety.


I’ve been granted the opportunity to change public perception. Now I serve up lessons on topics long slept on. I take every chance I get to remind people that we’ve always been popular. That it’s our prevalence that allows me to take shots more often. But it’s because of you that I pour on point so everyone can get a taste, to ensure our power is felt, and our presence never forgotten.


I love you, ma.

Fin(o)

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