Phil Wilkes Fixico's life is more dramatic than virtually any soap opera — it took him more than 50 years to find out who he was after growing up in what he calls a "web of lies."
Fixico did find out, though, and his intriguing quest is now part of the Smithsonian Institution's "IndiVisible: African-Native American Lives in the Americas," a book and exhibit that will tour the country for five years, with its Los Angeles debut scheduled to take place at the California African American Museum in March 2011.
Now 62, Fixico says he was a "home-grown" kid who spent his childhood in the Nickerson Gardens housing project in Watts, where he came up hard. His mother was of African and Cherokee descent, and she hid the identity of his biological father, who was African and Seminole. He says he remained uncertain of his identity as he bounced in and out of four juvenile institutions, experienced rejection, used drugs, committed crimes, and witnessed domestic violence.
Fixico says he "grew up as a troubled youth because I kept bumping into the truth and half-truth.
"I knew there was more than what I was being told, but I didn't know what it was. I certainly didn't know it was this," he adds.
The "this" that Fixico discovered 10 years ago rocked his core: He is a "Seminole-Maroon descendant" — a revelation that led to what he describes as an identity crisis.
By appearance, Fixico looks like a black man to some, but he doesn't think of himself that way; instead, he describes himself as a "Seminole-Maroon descendant."
Seminole Maroons descendants, Fixico explains, come from free blacks and fugitive slaves who settled in Florida after having escaped slavery by forming alliances with Native Americans. ("Some descendants take issue with the term 'Seminole Maroon descendant' because they feel it makes them less Indian to be connected to Africa," he said in a later e-mail. Some prefer to use the terms Seminole, black Seminole, or Seminole of color. There are also others who contend that some Seminole Maroons were never slaves).
To understand why he calls himself a Seminole-Maroon descendant requires a long story that he pieced together through research.
Just when he was about to give up on the search, Fixico was watching television and heard someone talking about a genealogy Web site. He went to the site and entered the name Fixico, which led to enough information to get him started on documenting his ancestry.
Fixico also spoke to several oral historians; read innumerable books; obtained family photos; interviewed family members; attended "Seminole Day" weekends in Brackettville, Texas; and obtained an associate degree in Spanish (in honor of his ancestors), because he wanted a degree with his new name — he was called Philip Vincent Wilkes prior to learning his true identity.
When his research was complete, Fixico was a new man.
"I don't call myself black," he says, explaining that research by the Smithsonian staff has determined him to be eighth Seminole Indian, one-fourth Cherokee Freedman, one-fourth Seminole Freedman, one-fourth mulatto and one-eighth Creek Freedman.
Little wonder that one word can't sum up Fixico's being.
"The reason I don't say black is because that doesn't really describe the nuances of who I am," he says. "I'm a shade of black, a flavor of black. When someone asks, 'Are you black?' it gives me pause. I can't take the same credit as someone coming out of Africa who is pure. I can't take their same degree of blackness."
To be clear, Fixico doesn't have a problem with being called black, or any problem with black people.
"It's not that I don't want to be black," said Fixico. "I've been the product of a mixture. The one-drop rule says I'm black as anybody. "Under America's concept of black, I'm black. But when I look at it as my own sense of self, I'm a flavor of black."
Some of that flavor comes from his grandfather, Pompey Fixico, himself the son of a pure Seminole and a Seminole Maroon. The connection has led the younger Fixico to become a passionate advocate for positive relations between Seminoles and Seminoles of color.
At a recent Black History Month celebration at the AC Bilbrew Public Library in Los Angeles, Fixico, who created a Seminole Maroon Peace Belt to promote positive thinking," spoke openly about his life before an audience. Indeed, in recent years he has combined his skills as an historian and performance artist as part of a mission to pass on the history and the knowledge of his true heritage.
"I don't want others to go through what I went through," says Fixico, a widower and father of eight (one is deceased). "Once I found out about my heritage from family members on my father's side, I promised that I would speak 300 times for the ancestors. I promised that I would take their story to the nation."
Not only has he spoken about his story and his birthright hundreds of times to various groups, including local schools, his message is now included in the Smithsonian Institution's traveling exhibit and companion book, published by the National Museum of the American Indian. An essay by Fixico is one of 27 essays included in the tome.
"We thought the story was compelling and also that it was appropriate to feature a story about his experience because he had uncovered his tribal roots to the Seminole," says Gabrielle Tayac, historian at the National Museum of the American Indian at the Smithsonian Institution. "What was intriguing is that many people in the African American community don't have a full understanding of their genealogy.
"He always felt there was something missing. Now he has a more complete picture of himself and his identity," Tayac adds. "What we found is that this kind of story, that yearning, is something very representative of many people. It was compelling to link him to a broader history. Through him we were able to look at the story of the Seminole."
Discovering his roots was a tough task for Fixico, but he says he trudged on with a sense of duty.
"I want to be the catalyst for a cultural renaissance similar to the Harlem Renaissance, where this part of our history is told for the first time and it tells about those people who wouldn't say 'Toby,' who gave creative resistance to the slavery, and whose story was unreported or underreported," Fixico says.
Tayac, who was the general editor on "IndiVisible," said the book offers a more complete understanding of the American experience.
"We don't really hear a lot about Native and African Americans coming together," Tayac says. "It's a story as old as the country. It preceded the country. It's important to understand that the histories are so intertwined. We have the notion that perhaps people of color can only be understood as part of white history. That is so not the case."
When asked if he was proud of what he's discovered and his efforts to promote harmony between Seminoles and Seminoles of color, Fixico takes a moment to reflect.
"You know that's a very good question," he says. "If you mean, am I black and proud and loud — no; I'm not like that. It's just what it is. It's like a record that I have to set straight. Because it fell to me, it's like a hole was cut out of my heart. Now, I have to at least make an impact. After that, I'm fine. Let someone else come and do better than me. I'll go fishing or salsa dancing."
For inquiries or to book Fixico for a free community seminar, contact him at refixico@aol.com.
Darlene Donloe is a writer for the L.A. Watts Times.
Photo from the L.A. Watts Times.
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