A tribute to Grandma Cilla

This is a tribute to a woman whom I've never met. My Great, Great Grandmother Cilla, born a slave circa 1852.

Watching the PBS series "African American Lives 2" has really piqued my interest in genealogy. I'm attempting to learn as much as I can about my family history.

There are a lot of missing leaves and branches in my family tree, but the ones I've uncovered so far are fascinating.

All these years, I never really realized the significance of an old picture in my grandmother's photo album. It's an enlarged black-and-white print of a proud, sable-skinned woman in a plain, angle-length cotton or linen dress and an overcoat, sitting beside her adult daughter, who was similarly dressed.

The older woman's hair was lush and very thick, neatly styled in about three large plaits, likely never having felt the heat of a straightening comb, nor the sting of a relaxer.

I stared at my ancestor this weekend, and for the first time I saw myself. "That's my hair!" I thought. "That's my heritage."

For years I've been a big fan of natural hair, but I never felt prouder or more blessed to have my nappy mane, which always seemed to rebel against any form of straightening, no matter what I did.

Now I know why.

I really wish I could post a picture of Grandma Cilla, but I doubt my 90-year-old grandmother in Ohio would let me borrow a rare photo of her grandmother from the album.

I'd always heard stories about my great great grandmother Cilla -- how she grew up on the plantation, and how, as a little girl too young to work the fields, she was used to help train the slave-catching dogs to follow a scent.

Now, for the first time, I feel an even deeper connection.

I think she'd like these Sisterlocks.