I have believed in US (Black Men and Women), it seems forever. As someone committed to uplifting the community, life has required that I first look within myself to be able to see my barriers. Not just to see them, I should add, but to see them so I can overcome them. To say this past week has been phenomenal would not do it justice. Sometimes we are blessed with the knowledge that we are solidly on our paths and we then know, without question, we will be successful. For me, after all the terrain I’ve traversed this week, there were three distinct events that have given me this clarity.
I shall name them in chronological order.
I spent over three hours in a Men’s meeting where we invited youth to come and help us understand their world and how we can better serve their needs. In this meeting we heard from all sides – Black males from age 14 – 67 – because we want to know what is missing in their lives. All the older men were passionate and caring, wanting to know what to do. All the youth were adamant that they needed us to step up and walk their road with them – they needed our leadership. I sat and watched, taking in what was said and how things were received. As soon as all sides started talking about Fathers and Sons the room errupted into energetic life. So I saw more clearly the need for older men and younger men to start talking to each other more, and to do so right now! (Event number 1)
Then I was in a meeting to discuss a film project, and during that meeting we happened upon a discussion about Reality. Quite interesting, indeed. The person I was talking to said their understanding of reality was more about the content of the thing their eyes perceived. (In other words, you might see a flower and think you know what it is but it might not be the kind of flower you think, therefore you had a false reality – pretty deep, huh)? My position is the thing one sees and thinks make up ones own reality, even if it is different from some one else’s persception. I believe it is still a reality to that person because that person is responding to things based upon how he/she perceives them. But this left me thinking… (Event number 2)
Later on I spent some time with my Cousin who is someone who some people would “size up” in a moment and then discount him (alas, I must admit, my Cousin is deeply involved in Hip-Hop culture). We hung out and had a great time enjoying some TV. While talking before the Comedy show we watched we had a discussion around Reality. During this conversation I asked him if Perception is Reality. What a conversation we had! His thinking was that it all depends on how you look at things. Whoa! Now that’s perception! We talked about it more and soon everything lined up for me. (Event number 3)
These events have caused me to reaffirm my belief in the need to take immediate action and to involve all parties in finding solutions for our community.
The reason our communities are all so fragmented and weakened is because we have chosen to hold our perspectives (our realities) over all others, and to use that perspective as an emotional weapon to push people away. Think about it, how many times have we turned our backs on someone because of their lifestyle or ideas simply because they did not agree with our own? How many times have we allowed ourselves to stay away from others simply because they are – or might be – doing something we do not like?
If we call ourselves family then how can we turn away from our own blood, our own kin? This thought alone is enough to demonstrate the impact perception has on us.
So what was the epiphany? What was this great realization/confirmation I experienced?
It goes a like this: To overcome our prejudice and fear of one another, we have to all acknowledge the perceptions (realities) of others to be just as valid as our own. Therein lies the balance we so desperately seek… the common ground we all possess and can acknowledge to one another. In order to do that we have to get out of our houses in into the perceptions of those we want to embrace. In other words, we have the capacity to put ourselves into the reality of those we wish to reach.
In talking with my cousin I realized what family is. It is about looking our Brothers and Sisters in the face and telling them you love them regardless of what you or others might think about decisions they make. It is about being part of their lives so they can have someone who has already walked the gauntlet to help them in their quest. It is about opening our ears to hear what they have to say without bias or judgment – but making it clear we are listening to them. It is about being honest in who we are as individuals who have been positioned in life to perform some great service to our community, and now realizing that service starts at home.
Don’t get me wrong. There are many people in our community who are reaching out to others. I applaud them.
I just know we all need to be doing more. When we are saturated into our community, and doing our part to embrace others, we will be ready to reclaim our true strength as a united community.
And when you have reached out to embrace your young Brother or Sister; when you have overcome your reluctance to be who you are; when you have gotten into their reality by answering their call for connectedness and attention…
Let Them Hear You Speak
“I don’t care if your baby’s pants are hanging to his knees, I rather you be in his life to lead the way, than to have some prison destroy him. Do not throw your Children away!”
- Congresswoman Maxine Waters
- Speech at Black Methodist For Church Renewal Banquet, 2008
10 December 2008
No. 34 - The Mind of a 10-year Old
I must admit to you that it takes a lot to pursue a dream many consider non-traditional. My years-long journey to discovering innovative ways to use film for higher purposes has been an adventure I shall never forget. It has shaped my thinking in ways I could never have imagined at the outset of my travel down this magnificently challenging road. It has provided me an intimate understanding of challenge, fear, and the unknown. And it has given me the greatest personal triumphs I have ever experienced.
Highs and lows, peaks and valleys, obstacles and innovations. At every step I’ve shared an equal measure of joy balanced with upsets.
When pursuing a dream we get caught up with the chase… we focus on the end result, hoping that is enough to overcome the obstacles. We believe we can do so much - our purpose is so clear, our effort so needed to benefit others, our goals so vital to helping to build a better world – and that all we need do is put the effort and sacrifice into the task at hand then, when the time has come, we will succeed.
Then comes the reality of the world we live in. Then comes the challenges and the frustrations that come with having to choose between that special little gadget we might want to buy, and the needs of the project at hand. Then comes the realization that our fiscal runway may not be as long as we had anticipated. Or we may come to understand that the “obvious” benefit we see and know the effort has to the community will not be embraced, and the community will not rally in support of the effort.
We get so close to realizing the dream – to finally holding that great treasure in hand – and then are awakened to the reality that we still have a way to go. We take a moment to assess the situation and to reflect upon our motives. We take time to evaluate the value of what we are doing against the tangible proof of whether others share in that value. We stop and think, sometimes holding the frustration at bay, sometimes holding our fist to the Gods demanding to know why we must travel yet further, our prize still un-won. Our minds are wearied by thought and the emotional toll unmet needs have upon us.
It was at such a moment that my daughter noticed me “going into myself” to reflect. She saw my frustration and she felt my need. I dare not share with her the level of anxiety and frustration I felt. Alas, she is my daughter… she knew by simply looking.
I stood on my balcony, as I always do when I need to think things through and I heard her walk up behind me. She stopped, and stood there. I turned and invited her to stand with me.
“Dad”, she said, “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Sweety… just spending a little time thinking.” I replied.
“I know you, Dad, what’s bothering you?”
Well, she does know me. Children do watch their parents. In moments like these it’s obvious she knows me better than I had imagined. I believe that’s a great thing because it means we truly have a connection and we truly can talk. I take these opportunities to guide her as she develops into a young adult.
So I spoke the truth about my feelings to her.
I told her how I was wondering when I would finally be able to give her the life I had always envisioned. I told her how I was beginning to think – as we all do when faced with delays and/or obstacles while undertaking a long journey – perhaps I should seriously consider taking a different course. I told her how badly I wanted to create a better life for us so she can continue the process of giving back to society when her time comes.
She stood there and listened, taking in what I had said. She processed my words and looked at me. When I had finished speaking her quick reply came: “Don’t give up.”
“Don’t give up”, she said… “People are hearing you, you speak to them… keep at it.”
All I could do was look at her and know she is my child. I knew all the things I had exposed her to had taken hold in her mind and were now part of how she perceived life.
Now, how can I respond to that kind of faith and belief in me? What response could I offer my child who, when I was contemplating the relevance of my goals for the community, would not even attempt to entertain the idea of my stopping?
So I looked at her and came towards her. I hugged her and told her I loved her. I smiled at her and said thank you.
“I suppose that settles that”, I told her.
Highs and lows, peaks and valleys, obstacles and innovations. At every step I’ve shared an equal measure of joy balanced with upsets.
When pursuing a dream we get caught up with the chase… we focus on the end result, hoping that is enough to overcome the obstacles. We believe we can do so much - our purpose is so clear, our effort so needed to benefit others, our goals so vital to helping to build a better world – and that all we need do is put the effort and sacrifice into the task at hand then, when the time has come, we will succeed.
Then comes the reality of the world we live in. Then comes the challenges and the frustrations that come with having to choose between that special little gadget we might want to buy, and the needs of the project at hand. Then comes the realization that our fiscal runway may not be as long as we had anticipated. Or we may come to understand that the “obvious” benefit we see and know the effort has to the community will not be embraced, and the community will not rally in support of the effort.
We get so close to realizing the dream – to finally holding that great treasure in hand – and then are awakened to the reality that we still have a way to go. We take a moment to assess the situation and to reflect upon our motives. We take time to evaluate the value of what we are doing against the tangible proof of whether others share in that value. We stop and think, sometimes holding the frustration at bay, sometimes holding our fist to the Gods demanding to know why we must travel yet further, our prize still un-won. Our minds are wearied by thought and the emotional toll unmet needs have upon us.
It was at such a moment that my daughter noticed me “going into myself” to reflect. She saw my frustration and she felt my need. I dare not share with her the level of anxiety and frustration I felt. Alas, she is my daughter… she knew by simply looking.
I stood on my balcony, as I always do when I need to think things through and I heard her walk up behind me. She stopped, and stood there. I turned and invited her to stand with me.
“Dad”, she said, “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Sweety… just spending a little time thinking.” I replied.
“I know you, Dad, what’s bothering you?”
Well, she does know me. Children do watch their parents. In moments like these it’s obvious she knows me better than I had imagined. I believe that’s a great thing because it means we truly have a connection and we truly can talk. I take these opportunities to guide her as she develops into a young adult.
So I spoke the truth about my feelings to her.
I told her how I was wondering when I would finally be able to give her the life I had always envisioned. I told her how I was beginning to think – as we all do when faced with delays and/or obstacles while undertaking a long journey – perhaps I should seriously consider taking a different course. I told her how badly I wanted to create a better life for us so she can continue the process of giving back to society when her time comes.
She stood there and listened, taking in what I had said. She processed my words and looked at me. When I had finished speaking her quick reply came: “Don’t give up.”
“Don’t give up”, she said… “People are hearing you, you speak to them… keep at it.”
All I could do was look at her and know she is my child. I knew all the things I had exposed her to had taken hold in her mind and were now part of how she perceived life.
Now, how can I respond to that kind of faith and belief in me? What response could I offer my child who, when I was contemplating the relevance of my goals for the community, would not even attempt to entertain the idea of my stopping?
So I looked at her and came towards her. I hugged her and told her I loved her. I smiled at her and said thank you.
“I suppose that settles that”, I told her.
No. 33 - Art, Culture, Legacy, and Value
We go to the gallery or see a fantastic display of Art that resonates. We share the experience with that special someone or with a group of like-minded colleagues and allow the intricately embedded message in the Artwork to give us something to reflect upon. We spend hours talking about the Art and the impact is has on us, appreciating the gift of thought and dialog we have been blessed with. We shake the Artists hand and compliment him/her of their obvious commitment to using Art to stimulate thought and remind us of some long-lost value - or perspective - that has made us great.
And then we go home.
We do not support the Arts with the very thing that gives it value and creates a lasting legacy for those who will come after us. We choose to spend our money on short-term material possessions or momentary thrills, forgetting about the experience we had just enjoyed. We rather browse through a magazine or the Internet, or go and buy a drastically reduced copy of the work we know has greater meaning to us.
So much for recognizing how important the experience we just had is to us… so much for using our financial power to dictate what is valuable to us. Instead, we have bought into the notion that someone in some distant place - who has no real connection to our community or what is important to us - determines what we need.
Let us take a moment and consider how history is recorded and information is passed down from one generation to another.
It is commonly known that much of the greatness of our past history has been learned from the many artifacts discovered in hidden burial grounds, great museums, and many of the slowly dwindling Black libraries and churches in our changing communities. Researchers from the beginning of history (as it is told these days) have used Art and Art artifacts to gain insights and understanding of life and cultures that have long since disappeared. Therein lies the real value of Art and what it means to a culture.
It is the only way to accurately insure the truth of our present day is recorded, represented, and passed down as a legacy to generations to come.
It is our tool to represent our perspective to all who seek to understand the world we live in, and it gives us the opportunity to reflect upon our present.
Art is a record of our present perspective that can be – and should be, I dare say – compared to the past.
“One can never have a better future if one can not reflect upon the truths of the past”, as the saying goes. Whenever I see pictures that remind me of the slavery and jim crow-ism I have an opportunity to consider my present. I can reflect upon the challenges and processes of the day and discern how much – or how little – progress we have made.
Value is based upon our perception of the messages we receive, and the acceptance of some monetary amount that is placed upon a thing. That’s capitalism at its best. All too often we rather debate the monetary value placed on Black Art yet will not even consider challenging a value placed on Art created by other cultures.
Why is that so? Why do we continually diminish our own value while at the same time prop up the “value” of others? What are we afraid of?
It seems to me we are supremely qualified to assign our own Value to our own Arts and we do not need the “blessings” of others. It seems to me we ought to place greater historical significance on modern-day Artists and the important work they do. We should remember the real Value Black Americans have in the United States, which is to say we have a combined buying power of over $900 Billion dollars – more than all of Canada.
Imagine what will happen when we recognize this Value and begin to make decisions that ensure our Arts are properly valued across the land. Imagine what would happen if, like hundreds of years ago all across the African continent, Black Americans came together in support of our Arts and Artists, giving them the same level of respect we give others.
As long as there are Black Artists we will have the opportunity to actively control the representation of our present reality, and use that representation to influence the trajectory of our future. As far as I can tell there will be no shortage of qualified Artists to do the work of chronicling our world – it is a calling every true Artist understands.
We have the capacity to make our voices heard and to ensure, hundreds of years from now, that our lives and the world we live in today is captured and told by Black Americans. We are all obligated to insure our reality is documented for the coming generations. And we should be tired of having others who have no real connection to our community, culture, or legacy telling us what is Art and what we Value.
For Black folk, there is only one true Art to Value – Our Art. No other ethnicity will value it properly if we do not value it properly. I encourage you, when next you are buying Black Art to say one simple word when the Artist of your liking gives you his/her price: “Okay”.
And then we go home.
We do not support the Arts with the very thing that gives it value and creates a lasting legacy for those who will come after us. We choose to spend our money on short-term material possessions or momentary thrills, forgetting about the experience we had just enjoyed. We rather browse through a magazine or the Internet, or go and buy a drastically reduced copy of the work we know has greater meaning to us.
So much for recognizing how important the experience we just had is to us… so much for using our financial power to dictate what is valuable to us. Instead, we have bought into the notion that someone in some distant place - who has no real connection to our community or what is important to us - determines what we need.
Let us take a moment and consider how history is recorded and information is passed down from one generation to another.
It is commonly known that much of the greatness of our past history has been learned from the many artifacts discovered in hidden burial grounds, great museums, and many of the slowly dwindling Black libraries and churches in our changing communities. Researchers from the beginning of history (as it is told these days) have used Art and Art artifacts to gain insights and understanding of life and cultures that have long since disappeared. Therein lies the real value of Art and what it means to a culture.
It is the only way to accurately insure the truth of our present day is recorded, represented, and passed down as a legacy to generations to come.
It is our tool to represent our perspective to all who seek to understand the world we live in, and it gives us the opportunity to reflect upon our present.
Art is a record of our present perspective that can be – and should be, I dare say – compared to the past.
“One can never have a better future if one can not reflect upon the truths of the past”, as the saying goes. Whenever I see pictures that remind me of the slavery and jim crow-ism I have an opportunity to consider my present. I can reflect upon the challenges and processes of the day and discern how much – or how little – progress we have made.
Value is based upon our perception of the messages we receive, and the acceptance of some monetary amount that is placed upon a thing. That’s capitalism at its best. All too often we rather debate the monetary value placed on Black Art yet will not even consider challenging a value placed on Art created by other cultures.
Why is that so? Why do we continually diminish our own value while at the same time prop up the “value” of others? What are we afraid of?
It seems to me we are supremely qualified to assign our own Value to our own Arts and we do not need the “blessings” of others. It seems to me we ought to place greater historical significance on modern-day Artists and the important work they do. We should remember the real Value Black Americans have in the United States, which is to say we have a combined buying power of over $900 Billion dollars – more than all of Canada.
Imagine what will happen when we recognize this Value and begin to make decisions that ensure our Arts are properly valued across the land. Imagine what would happen if, like hundreds of years ago all across the African continent, Black Americans came together in support of our Arts and Artists, giving them the same level of respect we give others.
As long as there are Black Artists we will have the opportunity to actively control the representation of our present reality, and use that representation to influence the trajectory of our future. As far as I can tell there will be no shortage of qualified Artists to do the work of chronicling our world – it is a calling every true Artist understands.
We have the capacity to make our voices heard and to ensure, hundreds of years from now, that our lives and the world we live in today is captured and told by Black Americans. We are all obligated to insure our reality is documented for the coming generations. And we should be tired of having others who have no real connection to our community, culture, or legacy telling us what is Art and what we Value.
For Black folk, there is only one true Art to Value – Our Art. No other ethnicity will value it properly if we do not value it properly. I encourage you, when next you are buying Black Art to say one simple word when the Artist of your liking gives you his/her price: “Okay”.
No. 32 - What is law?
It is the law of the land that maintains order and helps to safeguard the rights and will of the citizenry. It is the carefully considered perspective of all sides involved in an issue that goes into the creation of law, and that insures the law will not fail humanity. It is with the regard for mankind and the deep desire to uplift society that laws are created and passed.
While that sounds great I have sadly come to regard “law” as something other than that. We all have countless stories of how the law was used to justify the misdeeds of the past. Even today there is evidence of abuse or misuse of the law. I’m reminded of something a colleague once told me. He and I were talking about law and legality and he said to me: “The problem with our system is that justice IS blind. Maybe if she were to remove her blinders there would be equality in the law”. An interesting point indeed.
I have to wonder what the law is really about. And I have to wonder how it has integrated into our society – for the good or for the bad. And I have to apply these thoughts to how the law applies to the creation of – or destruction of – democracy, as it is understood.
So let’s take a little journey…
Early on we are taught that laws are emplaced to safeguard and protect society. Our system, it is thought, is the best in the world to making sure all peoples of the land have a voice, and everyone is treated fairly. So when some legislator comes up with a novel idea that he/she feels will benefit society it is presented and then processed to somehow become a law, if it is seen to have merit and reflects the will of the people. Once it’s a law the people then adhere to it or suffer the consequences of fines, jail, or prison.
But what is at the core of the effort? Is it truly about finding ways to enlighten, safeguard, or unburden society? Or is there a more sinister motive at play?
When I look at how laws affect the poor, the environment, the disadvantaged, and those who are not in positions of financial or political power, I have to think there is an imbalance in the process that works to under serve these groups.
Fact is, many laws are developed and implemented for the rich and powerful. They protect their financial engines and modes of operation while slowly chipping away at some previously asserted (and established) right of the masses.
Let’s take, for example, the way Bush and his lawmaker pals have justified many of their actions. Let’s consider how they have, time and again, completely overlooked an established law, directive, or policy, to do what they wanted to do. (Think about waterboarding, for instance). Or let’s consider how banks can justify their greed and overly zealous desire to exploit everyone willing to agree to their “legal” policies for the simple purpose of “legally” taking as much of your money as they possible can.
The housing market serves as another example of how the powerful moneylenders use the word of “law” to remove their obligation to act responsibly and deal with their own losses – that were caused by their own predatory lending practices. Now, as it seems, these organizations have turned to the government and our already suffering society to fix the problems their greed cased and sure enough, the government lawmakers have responded. Needless to say, their response will only serve a small minority of those who have fallen victim to adjustable interest rates and the ballooning house market…
But alas I digress (a little, at least).
The ultimate question that should be considered is do laws that are passed reflect the will of the people? As a democracy - which implies our entire system is based upon respect and direct representation of the will of the people - do our lawmakers act accordingly? Or have their actions demonstrated they follow a different master? I believe we should each consider this and come to our own conclusions.
It has been my observation that we have all come to allow our leaders to hide behind the law. We have all forgotten that laws in American ought to reflect the will of the people, and not the will of the powerful – after all, the people have the real power because the people are the lifeblood and heartbeat of the community in the politic equation with the only active voice for truth. And the people possess the intellect and real experience to look at an issue honestly, and decide what needs to be done about it.
I would encourage everyone to keep this in mind when next you hear someone say the law requires him or her to do something in a way that hurts our society. I would ask that you think about it when you are made aware of someone who has clearly violated a social trust for the financial benefit of some corporation or his/her own wallet. And when these situations occur, instead of simply accepting those words as the gospel truth and remaining inactive in your response, we should immediately respond in very clear terms, “Then the law is no good for society and it must be changed!”
After all, what is law if it does a disservice to the masses? In my mind, when this is the case, the law then becomes nothing more than another mental constraint used against us to keep those who benefit from unfair and selfish practices in positions of power, and to keep the masses struggling to have a better existence. It becomes a dynamic link to all the verbal and mental brainwashing we have endured for hundreds of years. And it becomes the very thing we are taught it should not be – part of the problem, and not the solution.
While that sounds great I have sadly come to regard “law” as something other than that. We all have countless stories of how the law was used to justify the misdeeds of the past. Even today there is evidence of abuse or misuse of the law. I’m reminded of something a colleague once told me. He and I were talking about law and legality and he said to me: “The problem with our system is that justice IS blind. Maybe if she were to remove her blinders there would be equality in the law”. An interesting point indeed.
I have to wonder what the law is really about. And I have to wonder how it has integrated into our society – for the good or for the bad. And I have to apply these thoughts to how the law applies to the creation of – or destruction of – democracy, as it is understood.
So let’s take a little journey…
Early on we are taught that laws are emplaced to safeguard and protect society. Our system, it is thought, is the best in the world to making sure all peoples of the land have a voice, and everyone is treated fairly. So when some legislator comes up with a novel idea that he/she feels will benefit society it is presented and then processed to somehow become a law, if it is seen to have merit and reflects the will of the people. Once it’s a law the people then adhere to it or suffer the consequences of fines, jail, or prison.
But what is at the core of the effort? Is it truly about finding ways to enlighten, safeguard, or unburden society? Or is there a more sinister motive at play?
When I look at how laws affect the poor, the environment, the disadvantaged, and those who are not in positions of financial or political power, I have to think there is an imbalance in the process that works to under serve these groups.
Fact is, many laws are developed and implemented for the rich and powerful. They protect their financial engines and modes of operation while slowly chipping away at some previously asserted (and established) right of the masses.
Let’s take, for example, the way Bush and his lawmaker pals have justified many of their actions. Let’s consider how they have, time and again, completely overlooked an established law, directive, or policy, to do what they wanted to do. (Think about waterboarding, for instance). Or let’s consider how banks can justify their greed and overly zealous desire to exploit everyone willing to agree to their “legal” policies for the simple purpose of “legally” taking as much of your money as they possible can.
The housing market serves as another example of how the powerful moneylenders use the word of “law” to remove their obligation to act responsibly and deal with their own losses – that were caused by their own predatory lending practices. Now, as it seems, these organizations have turned to the government and our already suffering society to fix the problems their greed cased and sure enough, the government lawmakers have responded. Needless to say, their response will only serve a small minority of those who have fallen victim to adjustable interest rates and the ballooning house market…
But alas I digress (a little, at least).
The ultimate question that should be considered is do laws that are passed reflect the will of the people? As a democracy - which implies our entire system is based upon respect and direct representation of the will of the people - do our lawmakers act accordingly? Or have their actions demonstrated they follow a different master? I believe we should each consider this and come to our own conclusions.
It has been my observation that we have all come to allow our leaders to hide behind the law. We have all forgotten that laws in American ought to reflect the will of the people, and not the will of the powerful – after all, the people have the real power because the people are the lifeblood and heartbeat of the community in the politic equation with the only active voice for truth. And the people possess the intellect and real experience to look at an issue honestly, and decide what needs to be done about it.
I would encourage everyone to keep this in mind when next you hear someone say the law requires him or her to do something in a way that hurts our society. I would ask that you think about it when you are made aware of someone who has clearly violated a social trust for the financial benefit of some corporation or his/her own wallet. And when these situations occur, instead of simply accepting those words as the gospel truth and remaining inactive in your response, we should immediately respond in very clear terms, “Then the law is no good for society and it must be changed!”
After all, what is law if it does a disservice to the masses? In my mind, when this is the case, the law then becomes nothing more than another mental constraint used against us to keep those who benefit from unfair and selfish practices in positions of power, and to keep the masses struggling to have a better existence. It becomes a dynamic link to all the verbal and mental brainwashing we have endured for hundreds of years. And it becomes the very thing we are taught it should not be – part of the problem, and not the solution.
No. 31 - Lessons from the Ghosts of Our African Past
The ancient African Proverb reads: “He that does not learn the lessons of his past will surely suffer a greater peril in his future”.
Many years ago, in the heart of the African continent, a tribe of wanderers came upon a rich and beautiful land where the people were trustworthy, honest, and openly accepted all newcomers. Their way was characterized by their desire to work collaboratively and so they naturally assumed everyone was like that. The newcomers were welcomed into the homes and minds of the people of that land and soon they shared all the richness and wealth of the land. “Surely”, the people thought, “these people are our Brothers and our Sisters; we do not own the land for it belongs to no one yet it belongs to all”.
The newcomers had journeyed to discover this new land for many months, wanting to escape the hardships of their oppression. As they journeyed upon the unknown land they agreed that when they finally found a place to call home, they would never again allow themselves to be treated unjustly, or held down as subservient to another. This was their most treasured secret and, because it was vile and selfish, it began to eat away at the core of their virtue.
As time went on the newcomers integrated into the society and slowly began to plot against the peaceful people of the land. They learned the laws and customs of the people and found ways to exploit them, pitting one person against the other. Through trickery and deceit they worked their way up the ranks until one day they began to marry the daughters of the now troubled King. After some time all six of his daughters were wed to six of the newcomers, who were then so deeply immersed in the society the King had no idea that all the problems he was forced to deal with were caused by these very people.
The society because unsettled and before long petty arguments became fights that pit one family against the next. The Elders of the community were quite troubled and found it perplexing that the harder they tried to assert their will to maintain peace and harmony, it seemed things got worse. They finally began to see there was something afoul at play and, after carefully observing the dealings of those surrounding the King, they understood the problem.
One night, in the privacy of the Kings inner chamber, the Elders brought the subject up and to their surprise the King admitted it was true. “How can it be that you see these things yet do nothing to stop them?” they asked. The King stood and turned his back to them in shame. In a lowered voice he said, “I have come to know that I have failed my people. I have allowed a wicked corruption to enter into my home and the land, and ruin what once was. It is true, these things you have said, it is true. And yet I have no will to act against those who have brought this misery to us. Our customs require that I yield my will as King to the wills of the husbands of my Daughters, and it is they who have prepared me to meet the great creator.” And with that he fell to the ground and died.
The Elders, now knowing a great change would come into existence came together one last time and decided their time of service to their people had come to an end. They bid one another farewell and left the land, never again the return.
As word of the Kings death and the departure of the Elders came to the people fighting increased and the land was wreaked. The beautiful forests became sick. The crops were ravaged by pestilence and disease, the water soured and people became sick. After months of torment and fighting the people began to cry out for help. They were all so frightened they went to the six new rulers and pleaded for them to end the fighting. They promised to live according to the rule of law no matter what it meant because anything was better than what they were forced to now endure.
The new rulers smiled within, knowing they finally had achieved that which they so desperately wanted. They promised the people they would go into council and decide what to do next, and then let the people know. And that they did…
An old blind man was among the people. The land was his home; the place of all his greatest memories, and just as it was part of him, he was part of it. He had decided he loved the land so dearly he would do everything possible to understand why there was such turmoil in the land, and to fix what he could, if possible. He had nowhere else to go so when the people left the courtyard to wait being summoned, he chose to stay.
A day passed and no word from the new rulers. Two, three… finally, after a week the new rulers appeared and word went out to gather the people. In short order the courtyard filled and the rulers spoke. “You have asked that we bring an end to the warfare in the land. You have asked that we deliver to you a better way of living, that we do what we can to relieve your burdens. You have promised to abide by our ruling in exchange for this gift that we bring to you”, they said. The people eagerly agreed. “Then this is what you must do”, they said… “You must put aside your beliefs and embrace ours, you must pay tribune to us in the currency of our choosing, you must adopt a new language and become loyal to us. You have only this moment in time to choose. We control the fighters, we control the food, we control the commerce. Choose to be with us and you shall have peace. Choose against us and you will be banished.”
The people could not believe the price they would have to pay for peace. They had no inclination that their behaviors would cost them so much and because they had spent so much time fighting one another for so long they had no power to stand against the will of the new rulers.
The old man perked up a bit, leaning his head to the side. He stood erect and slowly walked up to the rulers as they stood in their splendor. “It is now clear to me why my Spirit has been so troubled. I must thank you for making the truth of this matter clear. For if I were to give up so much I would become no more than a slave to you. And if I choose to reject your offer then I would sacrifice my presence in this land. I see now, that we are all betrayed.” He then turned to the gathering of people and said to them in earnest. “I see now that we have also betrayed us”, he said.
The gathered crowd went silent, allowing the words that were spoken to penetrate their minds. Slowly, at first, then more quickly the people began to speak up against the offer until finally they were forced into silence.
“We see there are those of you who wish to demean our offer of salvation. Therefore you may go. But know this, should you ever be found in this land you will be killed”, said the rulers.
And that was it. Of all the many people of the land, most of the people were too afraid to leave for they had become too dependent upon the rulers of the land and they had lost their connection to one another. Only a few chose to leave and of those few no word has ever been heard. Some say they left the land and found a place of peace and harmony and there they remain, other say they wandered the land for many years plotting to one day return and overthrow the corrupt rulers, still others say they never made it out of the land because the rulers had the fighters attack and kill everyone, save the old man who got away and still searches for a place to call home.
All of the others who chose to stay lived a life that worsened with each passing year. More and more rules were thrust upon them; the ways of life from earlier years became a distant memory as they toiled each day simply to survive. The rulers became rich and famous off the land and off their labor while the people grew weaker, less organized, and less trusting. After a time the land became as barren and lifeless as the people, and unsustainable. It became sick because of how it was exploited and because of the pain of the people who labored upon it.
And then one day what was once a rich and thriving culture with the potential to survive forever, and a with a history that was both glorious and inspiring, became nothing more than a memory in the minds of the few surviving people who refused to yield their will to the corrupt manipulations of those who stole their way into power.
Moral of the story: Look for the similarities, remember the lessons, live the future you choose.
Many years ago, in the heart of the African continent, a tribe of wanderers came upon a rich and beautiful land where the people were trustworthy, honest, and openly accepted all newcomers. Their way was characterized by their desire to work collaboratively and so they naturally assumed everyone was like that. The newcomers were welcomed into the homes and minds of the people of that land and soon they shared all the richness and wealth of the land. “Surely”, the people thought, “these people are our Brothers and our Sisters; we do not own the land for it belongs to no one yet it belongs to all”.
The newcomers had journeyed to discover this new land for many months, wanting to escape the hardships of their oppression. As they journeyed upon the unknown land they agreed that when they finally found a place to call home, they would never again allow themselves to be treated unjustly, or held down as subservient to another. This was their most treasured secret and, because it was vile and selfish, it began to eat away at the core of their virtue.
As time went on the newcomers integrated into the society and slowly began to plot against the peaceful people of the land. They learned the laws and customs of the people and found ways to exploit them, pitting one person against the other. Through trickery and deceit they worked their way up the ranks until one day they began to marry the daughters of the now troubled King. After some time all six of his daughters were wed to six of the newcomers, who were then so deeply immersed in the society the King had no idea that all the problems he was forced to deal with were caused by these very people.
The society because unsettled and before long petty arguments became fights that pit one family against the next. The Elders of the community were quite troubled and found it perplexing that the harder they tried to assert their will to maintain peace and harmony, it seemed things got worse. They finally began to see there was something afoul at play and, after carefully observing the dealings of those surrounding the King, they understood the problem.
One night, in the privacy of the Kings inner chamber, the Elders brought the subject up and to their surprise the King admitted it was true. “How can it be that you see these things yet do nothing to stop them?” they asked. The King stood and turned his back to them in shame. In a lowered voice he said, “I have come to know that I have failed my people. I have allowed a wicked corruption to enter into my home and the land, and ruin what once was. It is true, these things you have said, it is true. And yet I have no will to act against those who have brought this misery to us. Our customs require that I yield my will as King to the wills of the husbands of my Daughters, and it is they who have prepared me to meet the great creator.” And with that he fell to the ground and died.
The Elders, now knowing a great change would come into existence came together one last time and decided their time of service to their people had come to an end. They bid one another farewell and left the land, never again the return.
As word of the Kings death and the departure of the Elders came to the people fighting increased and the land was wreaked. The beautiful forests became sick. The crops were ravaged by pestilence and disease, the water soured and people became sick. After months of torment and fighting the people began to cry out for help. They were all so frightened they went to the six new rulers and pleaded for them to end the fighting. They promised to live according to the rule of law no matter what it meant because anything was better than what they were forced to now endure.
The new rulers smiled within, knowing they finally had achieved that which they so desperately wanted. They promised the people they would go into council and decide what to do next, and then let the people know. And that they did…
An old blind man was among the people. The land was his home; the place of all his greatest memories, and just as it was part of him, he was part of it. He had decided he loved the land so dearly he would do everything possible to understand why there was such turmoil in the land, and to fix what he could, if possible. He had nowhere else to go so when the people left the courtyard to wait being summoned, he chose to stay.
A day passed and no word from the new rulers. Two, three… finally, after a week the new rulers appeared and word went out to gather the people. In short order the courtyard filled and the rulers spoke. “You have asked that we bring an end to the warfare in the land. You have asked that we deliver to you a better way of living, that we do what we can to relieve your burdens. You have promised to abide by our ruling in exchange for this gift that we bring to you”, they said. The people eagerly agreed. “Then this is what you must do”, they said… “You must put aside your beliefs and embrace ours, you must pay tribune to us in the currency of our choosing, you must adopt a new language and become loyal to us. You have only this moment in time to choose. We control the fighters, we control the food, we control the commerce. Choose to be with us and you shall have peace. Choose against us and you will be banished.”
The people could not believe the price they would have to pay for peace. They had no inclination that their behaviors would cost them so much and because they had spent so much time fighting one another for so long they had no power to stand against the will of the new rulers.
The old man perked up a bit, leaning his head to the side. He stood erect and slowly walked up to the rulers as they stood in their splendor. “It is now clear to me why my Spirit has been so troubled. I must thank you for making the truth of this matter clear. For if I were to give up so much I would become no more than a slave to you. And if I choose to reject your offer then I would sacrifice my presence in this land. I see now, that we are all betrayed.” He then turned to the gathering of people and said to them in earnest. “I see now that we have also betrayed us”, he said.
The gathered crowd went silent, allowing the words that were spoken to penetrate their minds. Slowly, at first, then more quickly the people began to speak up against the offer until finally they were forced into silence.
“We see there are those of you who wish to demean our offer of salvation. Therefore you may go. But know this, should you ever be found in this land you will be killed”, said the rulers.
And that was it. Of all the many people of the land, most of the people were too afraid to leave for they had become too dependent upon the rulers of the land and they had lost their connection to one another. Only a few chose to leave and of those few no word has ever been heard. Some say they left the land and found a place of peace and harmony and there they remain, other say they wandered the land for many years plotting to one day return and overthrow the corrupt rulers, still others say they never made it out of the land because the rulers had the fighters attack and kill everyone, save the old man who got away and still searches for a place to call home.
All of the others who chose to stay lived a life that worsened with each passing year. More and more rules were thrust upon them; the ways of life from earlier years became a distant memory as they toiled each day simply to survive. The rulers became rich and famous off the land and off their labor while the people grew weaker, less organized, and less trusting. After a time the land became as barren and lifeless as the people, and unsustainable. It became sick because of how it was exploited and because of the pain of the people who labored upon it.
And then one day what was once a rich and thriving culture with the potential to survive forever, and a with a history that was both glorious and inspiring, became nothing more than a memory in the minds of the few surviving people who refused to yield their will to the corrupt manipulations of those who stole their way into power.
Moral of the story: Look for the similarities, remember the lessons, live the future you choose.
No. 29 - And the line keeps getting longer
A friend of mine works for the county social services department and knew of my writing. She asked me if I would write something about the happenings at their office when I have time. I had time today. Before I could write about the facility I had to visit the facility. It seems that every time I go upon one of these social journeys I am re-awakened to the harsh realities of the society we live in. As ever, I must share my perspective in the hopes of shedding light on the realities of the day, and finding hope in what others might consider stagnation or ruin.
Once again I have to give President bush recognition for something he (and many other Republicans) have said. The economy is indeed strong. People do have the means to live their lives to the fullest. Americans can come and go as they please because the economic infrastructure supports them. THAT IS those Americans who are on the top 5 percent… I would even venture to say it is true for those who are also part of the quickly shrinking middle class. They represent a growing minority. It is that group who lives in luxury and without any real connection to the community at large that is benefiting from the economic gains of this society.
The other ninety percent are struggling.
I sat there and watched as the line of people waiting for assistance grew to fill the entire lobby. I saw the many ethnicities that are struggling to simply eat, or pay rent this month. I watched as young mothers and old grandfathers alike sat humbly in their seats, waiting for their number to be called. Over on the one side there was the person who, in his despair, had lost some measure of sanity as he moved his body to the rhythms of some unheard song. And on the other side rested an elderly gentleman who slumped in his sleep, snoring, as he now had some time to rest his weary bones.
The guards roamed the place in an effort to maintain calm amidst the waiting chaos, ready to silence anyone who got “out of place”. The counters between the workers and the needy citizens remained a steadfast barrier that only the patient could engage, and only when their number was called.
With each passing moment numbers and names were called to the relief of some waiting soul who had to have his/her case heard. With each passing moment yet another person would walk through the glass paned doors. Pride, fear, a humbled demeanor, a sense of urgency – all these were clearly displayed in the eyes of those who chanced looking up.
… and the line keeps getting longer…
I asked my colleague what has she noticed about the system of provided services to our masses? (After all, she’s worked there for over thirty-five years). Were there any tangible changes?
“Yes”, she said… “every month the numbers go up. More and more people are coming to us for help. And it is becoming harder to provide that help”.
What are we missing here? Certainly, that’s not the reality those in “power” want us to hear. Certainly Mr. bush mis-spoke when he said all those great things about our growing America…
But in looking at the host of people gathered in the place we can no longer doubt the truth or buy in to the reality they have attempted to propagate into our mindsets.
The fact is if we have more of what we’ve had for the last seven years the community as we know it is doomed. The numbers cannot be disputed and the palpable needs of the community should not be ignored. We are facing the result of so many different attacks to the community there is no wonder such anxiety and ill ease pervades our minds.
In considering this issue I have to think forward… I have to think of better days and better opportunities for us to live a better life. I have to believe the answer rests in the decision we must make regarding our National leadership and I hope we can come together and see the obvious solution.
This country cannot afford another Republican as the head of its highest office. It simply cannot. It also cannot afford a career politician who has little or no real connection to the lives and challenges of common folk – us minorities. The Black community throughout the Nation (Blacks were the main groups seen in the facility I visited today) needs a leader who has the daring and audacity to see our reality as it truly is. This leader has to understand the unbalance and dysfunction the system, as we know it today, is so intimately connected to the plight and struggles of those who wish to live a better life. This leader has to be able to be held accountable to something much bigger than the corporate engine or the political establishment, but to the integrity and nobility of truth as it stands.
There is no denying the realities that our community continues to suffer. There is not denying the fact that jobs opportunities continue to evaporate, and that educational opportunities continue to escape our grasp. And there is no denying the influence we, as Black Americans who vote, will have in the naming of Barack Obama as our next Presidential candidate.
We have to understand one other truth… the signs are all around us, we simply have to open our eyes to see them…
The line is getting longer, and the line keeps getting longer … for those who simply cannot wait to vote for Barack Obama.
Once again I have to give President bush recognition for something he (and many other Republicans) have said. The economy is indeed strong. People do have the means to live their lives to the fullest. Americans can come and go as they please because the economic infrastructure supports them. THAT IS those Americans who are on the top 5 percent… I would even venture to say it is true for those who are also part of the quickly shrinking middle class. They represent a growing minority. It is that group who lives in luxury and without any real connection to the community at large that is benefiting from the economic gains of this society.
The other ninety percent are struggling.
I sat there and watched as the line of people waiting for assistance grew to fill the entire lobby. I saw the many ethnicities that are struggling to simply eat, or pay rent this month. I watched as young mothers and old grandfathers alike sat humbly in their seats, waiting for their number to be called. Over on the one side there was the person who, in his despair, had lost some measure of sanity as he moved his body to the rhythms of some unheard song. And on the other side rested an elderly gentleman who slumped in his sleep, snoring, as he now had some time to rest his weary bones.
The guards roamed the place in an effort to maintain calm amidst the waiting chaos, ready to silence anyone who got “out of place”. The counters between the workers and the needy citizens remained a steadfast barrier that only the patient could engage, and only when their number was called.
With each passing moment numbers and names were called to the relief of some waiting soul who had to have his/her case heard. With each passing moment yet another person would walk through the glass paned doors. Pride, fear, a humbled demeanor, a sense of urgency – all these were clearly displayed in the eyes of those who chanced looking up.
… and the line keeps getting longer…
I asked my colleague what has she noticed about the system of provided services to our masses? (After all, she’s worked there for over thirty-five years). Were there any tangible changes?
“Yes”, she said… “every month the numbers go up. More and more people are coming to us for help. And it is becoming harder to provide that help”.
What are we missing here? Certainly, that’s not the reality those in “power” want us to hear. Certainly Mr. bush mis-spoke when he said all those great things about our growing America…
But in looking at the host of people gathered in the place we can no longer doubt the truth or buy in to the reality they have attempted to propagate into our mindsets.
The fact is if we have more of what we’ve had for the last seven years the community as we know it is doomed. The numbers cannot be disputed and the palpable needs of the community should not be ignored. We are facing the result of so many different attacks to the community there is no wonder such anxiety and ill ease pervades our minds.
In considering this issue I have to think forward… I have to think of better days and better opportunities for us to live a better life. I have to believe the answer rests in the decision we must make regarding our National leadership and I hope we can come together and see the obvious solution.
This country cannot afford another Republican as the head of its highest office. It simply cannot. It also cannot afford a career politician who has little or no real connection to the lives and challenges of common folk – us minorities. The Black community throughout the Nation (Blacks were the main groups seen in the facility I visited today) needs a leader who has the daring and audacity to see our reality as it truly is. This leader has to understand the unbalance and dysfunction the system, as we know it today, is so intimately connected to the plight and struggles of those who wish to live a better life. This leader has to be able to be held accountable to something much bigger than the corporate engine or the political establishment, but to the integrity and nobility of truth as it stands.
There is no denying the realities that our community continues to suffer. There is not denying the fact that jobs opportunities continue to evaporate, and that educational opportunities continue to escape our grasp. And there is no denying the influence we, as Black Americans who vote, will have in the naming of Barack Obama as our next Presidential candidate.
We have to understand one other truth… the signs are all around us, we simply have to open our eyes to see them…
The line is getting longer, and the line keeps getting longer … for those who simply cannot wait to vote for Barack Obama.
No. 28 - A Brief History Of Our media
Recently Barack Obama won the South Carolina primary by receiving over 50 percent of the vote. The next nearest candidate received only 27 percent of the remaining votes. This is yet another slap to the face of the US media and political pundits who continually espouse rhetoric that is rarely in support of Blacks. When considering this matter we have to go back to our earliest recollection of how “media” has been used to justify one position or the other, and in every case, the justification was for the side of those who wish to gain from Blacks.
So let’s take a moment and remember, shall we…
Slaves were tortured, maimed, and grossly humiliated when they were discovered to be attempting to read. While this was the case, at the same time the religious “leaders” of the day were universally preaching that Blacks were less than human and it was Gods will that we be made subservient to the wills and whims of Whites. Every attempt made by Blacks to gain a truer or more accurate understanding of the realities in the US was met with hatred, deflection, or outright murder.
Come to the Civil Rights era and we know the laws and rules of the land were used to systematically disenfranchise the Black community. From voting rights, to education, to jobs, to community empowerment Blacks were fed unfilled promises and lies, and were disproportionately made to suffer in poverty and with other social ills. The media was used not only to minimize the efforts of the Blacks who did stand their ground, but it was also used to showcase Blacks as charlatans, cutthroats, unemployable, and a burden to society.
Going forward years later and Rap music became the voice of the Black community. The lyrics were powerful in that they gave voice to our struggles for equality and told the stories of injustice and inadequacy in our community. Unfortunately, those whose purpose is to benefit from Blacks - while keeping us down - understood the power their money had on the weak minds of the many who, once compromised chose to rap about how tough they were, or how cool it was to belittle our women. It became en vogue to tote a 9mm and blast your way into stardom – only to have that stardom taken away with time spent in prison, or worse. Here again the media was used to influence the psyche of Blacks not only across the US, but also throughout the world.
And while there were many who spoke up against this nonsense, the masses embraced it.
Now here today we have more of the same. Here today Barack Obama is making history and has gained International renown yet the media continually strives to belittle his accomplishments. On the heels of his phenomenal victory in South Carolina the media has already begun it’s campaign to plant seeds of doubt and distrust in the minds of the masses. All too often we here that polls show other candidates in the lead but I have to wonder whom among us have the pollsters been talking to. Of the many people I’ve spoken to a great percentage are staunch Obama supporters. They see the opportunity his Presidency represents and they understand his running is, indeed, a clarion call that times have changed.
I have a colleague who was in South Carolina with Obama and his perspective is quite different from that of the media (imagine that). He saw first hand how the many peoples of South Carolina were rallying around Barack and making it clear he was their candidate of choice. These people were Black, White, Red, Brown, and Yellow and they are far more representative of America than those who support the other candidates. His experience showed there are many supporters of Barack, far more then the media would have us believe.
So what can be learned from the reality that the organized media engine is bent on doing its part to keep Obama from becoming the first Black president of the United States? What are we to do to insure we are Black Americans are no longer put in the back seats of the engine that is moving towards a better America – even a better world? What has to be our role in combating the lies and manipulation we are inundated with daily?
We have to understand it is our responsibility to remain steadfast in our convictions and not be dissuaded by the rhetoric and positioning of the media. We have to understand the role of media in the present day in more than to inform, but to influence. We have to remember the years of bigotry and hypocrisy that are closely aligned to the media. And we have to know that present day media owes no allegiance to us, but to the corporate manipulators that own the media. Those corporations continue to benefit by keeping Blacks down, taking our money, ruining our communities, and destroying every attempt we make to have a greater voice in this society.
And we have to use our voice to get our people rallied around the candidate who is most like us, and who is currently being treated with the same disrespect and Willie Lynch-ism that has been historically – and is still being – applied to the Black community.
So let’s take a moment and remember, shall we…
Slaves were tortured, maimed, and grossly humiliated when they were discovered to be attempting to read. While this was the case, at the same time the religious “leaders” of the day were universally preaching that Blacks were less than human and it was Gods will that we be made subservient to the wills and whims of Whites. Every attempt made by Blacks to gain a truer or more accurate understanding of the realities in the US was met with hatred, deflection, or outright murder.
Come to the Civil Rights era and we know the laws and rules of the land were used to systematically disenfranchise the Black community. From voting rights, to education, to jobs, to community empowerment Blacks were fed unfilled promises and lies, and were disproportionately made to suffer in poverty and with other social ills. The media was used not only to minimize the efforts of the Blacks who did stand their ground, but it was also used to showcase Blacks as charlatans, cutthroats, unemployable, and a burden to society.
Going forward years later and Rap music became the voice of the Black community. The lyrics were powerful in that they gave voice to our struggles for equality and told the stories of injustice and inadequacy in our community. Unfortunately, those whose purpose is to benefit from Blacks - while keeping us down - understood the power their money had on the weak minds of the many who, once compromised chose to rap about how tough they were, or how cool it was to belittle our women. It became en vogue to tote a 9mm and blast your way into stardom – only to have that stardom taken away with time spent in prison, or worse. Here again the media was used to influence the psyche of Blacks not only across the US, but also throughout the world.
And while there were many who spoke up against this nonsense, the masses embraced it.
Now here today we have more of the same. Here today Barack Obama is making history and has gained International renown yet the media continually strives to belittle his accomplishments. On the heels of his phenomenal victory in South Carolina the media has already begun it’s campaign to plant seeds of doubt and distrust in the minds of the masses. All too often we here that polls show other candidates in the lead but I have to wonder whom among us have the pollsters been talking to. Of the many people I’ve spoken to a great percentage are staunch Obama supporters. They see the opportunity his Presidency represents and they understand his running is, indeed, a clarion call that times have changed.
I have a colleague who was in South Carolina with Obama and his perspective is quite different from that of the media (imagine that). He saw first hand how the many peoples of South Carolina were rallying around Barack and making it clear he was their candidate of choice. These people were Black, White, Red, Brown, and Yellow and they are far more representative of America than those who support the other candidates. His experience showed there are many supporters of Barack, far more then the media would have us believe.
So what can be learned from the reality that the organized media engine is bent on doing its part to keep Obama from becoming the first Black president of the United States? What are we to do to insure we are Black Americans are no longer put in the back seats of the engine that is moving towards a better America – even a better world? What has to be our role in combating the lies and manipulation we are inundated with daily?
We have to understand it is our responsibility to remain steadfast in our convictions and not be dissuaded by the rhetoric and positioning of the media. We have to understand the role of media in the present day in more than to inform, but to influence. We have to remember the years of bigotry and hypocrisy that are closely aligned to the media. And we have to know that present day media owes no allegiance to us, but to the corporate manipulators that own the media. Those corporations continue to benefit by keeping Blacks down, taking our money, ruining our communities, and destroying every attempt we make to have a greater voice in this society.
And we have to use our voice to get our people rallied around the candidate who is most like us, and who is currently being treated with the same disrespect and Willie Lynch-ism that has been historically – and is still being – applied to the Black community.
No. 27 - Our Royalty
Sometimes as we perform an effort, we are made intimately aware of ourselves as the deed is done. Sometimes we can see ourselves in the act of giving in ways that resonate at a spiritual level, and give us tangible proof of our connectedness to the essence of our collective commonality. Sometimes we can give of self to others, and the giving is received in such a way that all doubt about who and what we are dissipates into nothingness. It is at these moments we are closest to our ancestral past and all the future greatness our culture has to offer.
This week has been profound and inspiring in ways that are difficult to articulate. I am feeling a sense of ecstasy and triumph and it is most appealing. My Spirit is rejoicing and my head is humbly bowed to the brilliant greatness of the moment. I breathe a sigh of relief to stabilize myself on this Earthly plane because I have so much to be thankful for.
All too often we do not take time to allow ourselves to experience the love, warmth and caring of those who are dear to us. We are so caught up in our myriad pursuits that we seldom celebrate having the very things we seek. We have allowed material possessions, academic “gains” or selfish rationalizations to become surrogate and subjugate to the important issues in life.
It is raining this week; the waters are flowing in the streets of Oakland and throughout the region. The chilly air is disconcerting to many and causes us to dash about in haste, in our attempts to avoid the wetness. I think, just as is the case for every season, this is a beautiful time. In the midst of what many detest or hold in great disdain, I find myself feeling an overwhelming sense of love and connectedness to so much around me.
Just what is it that causes me to have this experience? How can I – or anyone else, for that matter – even think there’s something beautiful about this weather? What kind of happy juice have I been drinking?
My Mother and Father are in town and we have spent time together after so many years of not seeing one another.
My interaction with them is most humbling and rewarding. I am caused to remember my upbringing in a very real way, and to demonstrate respect and honor to these, my parents, who have loved me for so many years. I can see in them an easy concern and caring for me. I hear the deep love and affection in their voice as they subtly probe to discover if I’m truly okay. I can feel the natural, robust, steadfast, and complete compassion and support they have for me as I continue to embark upon this journey called life. It is as though I can touch the very source of my origination at a Spiritual level… as though our cores are magnets that pull tightly together as soon as we are in the same vicinity.
Throughout the course of our time together I have been aware of how deeply I do love and care for them both, and how they love and care for me. It is the true essence of family and support. It is a matter of respect and adoration smothered over with years of history and a mind full of guidance. It is the strength of conviction to inspire me to always believe in myself and to know I am never alone. It is the looking at the two and remembering that all the lessons I have learned have provided my foundation as a man, a father, a son, a partner, and a human being. And it is the knowing that their years of meaningful discourse with me (as we sat on the porch in the Summer heat of Georgia or as we all gathered at the dinner table with cousins from Philly) have shaped my regard for my community.
I have often wondered what it was about humanity that requires there to be such a thing called royalty. One reads about or sees royalty in the media yet rarely comprehends the implications of such a word. Over the years I’ve read a hundred books on Our Black Royalty from days long gone yet rarely could I point the finger at Black Royalty in modern times. Where were the examples of respect and admiration to the degree that we could represent and recognize Our Royalty?
Today, the question has been answered. Today I came to understand and see the tangible proof that we do indeed have Our Royalty in our midst and it is quite alive and well.
I open the door for my Mother and Father because they deserve it. They have opened the door for me a million times as I grew and developed, and they held my hand and comforted me when I was sick. I care enough to make certain they are comfortable and have the things they need while they visit because they have cared for me even before I was aware of the concept of caring, as a child. I respect and honor them because it was on the backs and blood of their labor and sacrifice that this country became the power that it is, and that I was able to eat and sleep and live as I grew up.
And I rest assured in my knowing that my parents – and your parents – have quietly and steadfastly set the example for all to see the profound truth of the matter…
They are Our Royalty.
And we ought to always take pride and joy in treating them as such.
This week has been profound and inspiring in ways that are difficult to articulate. I am feeling a sense of ecstasy and triumph and it is most appealing. My Spirit is rejoicing and my head is humbly bowed to the brilliant greatness of the moment. I breathe a sigh of relief to stabilize myself on this Earthly plane because I have so much to be thankful for.
All too often we do not take time to allow ourselves to experience the love, warmth and caring of those who are dear to us. We are so caught up in our myriad pursuits that we seldom celebrate having the very things we seek. We have allowed material possessions, academic “gains” or selfish rationalizations to become surrogate and subjugate to the important issues in life.
It is raining this week; the waters are flowing in the streets of Oakland and throughout the region. The chilly air is disconcerting to many and causes us to dash about in haste, in our attempts to avoid the wetness. I think, just as is the case for every season, this is a beautiful time. In the midst of what many detest or hold in great disdain, I find myself feeling an overwhelming sense of love and connectedness to so much around me.
Just what is it that causes me to have this experience? How can I – or anyone else, for that matter – even think there’s something beautiful about this weather? What kind of happy juice have I been drinking?
My Mother and Father are in town and we have spent time together after so many years of not seeing one another.
My interaction with them is most humbling and rewarding. I am caused to remember my upbringing in a very real way, and to demonstrate respect and honor to these, my parents, who have loved me for so many years. I can see in them an easy concern and caring for me. I hear the deep love and affection in their voice as they subtly probe to discover if I’m truly okay. I can feel the natural, robust, steadfast, and complete compassion and support they have for me as I continue to embark upon this journey called life. It is as though I can touch the very source of my origination at a Spiritual level… as though our cores are magnets that pull tightly together as soon as we are in the same vicinity.
Throughout the course of our time together I have been aware of how deeply I do love and care for them both, and how they love and care for me. It is the true essence of family and support. It is a matter of respect and adoration smothered over with years of history and a mind full of guidance. It is the strength of conviction to inspire me to always believe in myself and to know I am never alone. It is the looking at the two and remembering that all the lessons I have learned have provided my foundation as a man, a father, a son, a partner, and a human being. And it is the knowing that their years of meaningful discourse with me (as we sat on the porch in the Summer heat of Georgia or as we all gathered at the dinner table with cousins from Philly) have shaped my regard for my community.
I have often wondered what it was about humanity that requires there to be such a thing called royalty. One reads about or sees royalty in the media yet rarely comprehends the implications of such a word. Over the years I’ve read a hundred books on Our Black Royalty from days long gone yet rarely could I point the finger at Black Royalty in modern times. Where were the examples of respect and admiration to the degree that we could represent and recognize Our Royalty?
Today, the question has been answered. Today I came to understand and see the tangible proof that we do indeed have Our Royalty in our midst and it is quite alive and well.
I open the door for my Mother and Father because they deserve it. They have opened the door for me a million times as I grew and developed, and they held my hand and comforted me when I was sick. I care enough to make certain they are comfortable and have the things they need while they visit because they have cared for me even before I was aware of the concept of caring, as a child. I respect and honor them because it was on the backs and blood of their labor and sacrifice that this country became the power that it is, and that I was able to eat and sleep and live as I grew up.
And I rest assured in my knowing that my parents – and your parents – have quietly and steadfastly set the example for all to see the profound truth of the matter…
They are Our Royalty.
And we ought to always take pride and joy in treating them as such.
No. 26 - My Journey
This morning I awakened with a smile upon my face. It was one of those knowing smiles we have when the stars align, our plan is working, and we can see or feel the tangible proof that we are on the right track. I rolled over and thought about it, wanting to understand what it was that had given this sense of knowing – this feeling of humble confidence that made me smile. I had had a dream that was most comforting to me, and I’ll share it.
There I was, purposefully walking through a beautiful forest of exotic fauna, rolling hills, lush vegetation, and the sounds of flowing water somewhere off in the distant to sooth my spirit as I journeyed onward. While my destiny was not visible it did not concern me. I simply lavished in the beauty of my surroundings, the cool air, the spectacle of color, the richness of the soil beneath my feet, the scent of Earth and Nature as the two courted each other.
Soon I was walking through a valley that was flanked on the right and left by two great hills. As I passed the hills a figure stood up on either side of me – one male, one female. I stopped and looked at them… observed them. And they looked back. Each stood solidly more then fifty feet tall. As they looked down upon me they smiled in turn, each nodding their head in approval. I felt a warmness consume me. I felt something important had just happened. I felt the weight of the journey was nothing in comparison to what had just happened and I was encouraged to stay my course.
And so I did.
Soon I was beyond the valley and turned to look back. The two figures were now side-by-side, their bodies seeming to morph into one. I turned to fully face them and for sure, the two were becoming one. It was an awesome thing to regard because I felt I was privy to something no one had ever, or would ever see. When the morphing ended there was no more human likeness to be seen. There before me was a solid Brown and Black wall, shifting in color form one moment to the next. It stood unmoving in the valley, a brace for the hills that once were home to the great figures I had seen.
From this wall came the sound of music, the voices of a million singers all harmonizing to a chorus that resonated deep within me. It was the most uplifting integration of voice and music I had ever heard.
It did not occur to me to question this, after all, it was a dream and these things happen in our dreams all the time. I fully accepted the strong emotions that my mind experienced in this state of sleep, and that would carryover to my wakefulness.
I turned back and resumed my journey, now accompanied by the lovely music that would not fade away, and that I quickly grew fond of. It wove itself into my being, it matched the tempo of my heartbeat, and it enveloped me in an audible warmth that made me feel there was no way I would not reach my goal. Success was the only option, the only solution, the only alternative.
So I walked onward… I walked purposefully… I walked directly. And then I woke up.
What did this dream mean? What is it about dreams that help us to understand life? What subconscious messages were being fed into my conscious mind?
Here is my interpretation… here is what I believe has made me feel so good about that dream:
The two figures represented my ancestors, all of my ancestors: male and female. They were observing me in my quest to do something good for community, humanity, our legacy. They wanted me to know they were aware of my efforts and that they acknowledged them to be in alignment with their will. Their morphing into one, then into a wall represented their solid support for me in this journey. The songs were provided to comfort me and to let me know I am never alone.
I believe this dream to be a true message to me. I believe in the Spiritual connectedness of all of us. I believe when two people share a deep and personal conversation their Spirits also share in the interchange. I also believe we are all connected to our ancestral past.
Today I’ll go forward with an even greater sense of who I am and what life means to me. Today I’ve been reminded that my journey is so much more then the challenges I face or the things I have around me. Today I’m shown my body, mind, and soul are in alignment and that my path to realizing my goal is assured.
And today, once again, I will gladly put one foot in front of the other as I happily take part in this, My Journey.
There I was, purposefully walking through a beautiful forest of exotic fauna, rolling hills, lush vegetation, and the sounds of flowing water somewhere off in the distant to sooth my spirit as I journeyed onward. While my destiny was not visible it did not concern me. I simply lavished in the beauty of my surroundings, the cool air, the spectacle of color, the richness of the soil beneath my feet, the scent of Earth and Nature as the two courted each other.
Soon I was walking through a valley that was flanked on the right and left by two great hills. As I passed the hills a figure stood up on either side of me – one male, one female. I stopped and looked at them… observed them. And they looked back. Each stood solidly more then fifty feet tall. As they looked down upon me they smiled in turn, each nodding their head in approval. I felt a warmness consume me. I felt something important had just happened. I felt the weight of the journey was nothing in comparison to what had just happened and I was encouraged to stay my course.
And so I did.
Soon I was beyond the valley and turned to look back. The two figures were now side-by-side, their bodies seeming to morph into one. I turned to fully face them and for sure, the two were becoming one. It was an awesome thing to regard because I felt I was privy to something no one had ever, or would ever see. When the morphing ended there was no more human likeness to be seen. There before me was a solid Brown and Black wall, shifting in color form one moment to the next. It stood unmoving in the valley, a brace for the hills that once were home to the great figures I had seen.
From this wall came the sound of music, the voices of a million singers all harmonizing to a chorus that resonated deep within me. It was the most uplifting integration of voice and music I had ever heard.
It did not occur to me to question this, after all, it was a dream and these things happen in our dreams all the time. I fully accepted the strong emotions that my mind experienced in this state of sleep, and that would carryover to my wakefulness.
I turned back and resumed my journey, now accompanied by the lovely music that would not fade away, and that I quickly grew fond of. It wove itself into my being, it matched the tempo of my heartbeat, and it enveloped me in an audible warmth that made me feel there was no way I would not reach my goal. Success was the only option, the only solution, the only alternative.
So I walked onward… I walked purposefully… I walked directly. And then I woke up.
What did this dream mean? What is it about dreams that help us to understand life? What subconscious messages were being fed into my conscious mind?
Here is my interpretation… here is what I believe has made me feel so good about that dream:
The two figures represented my ancestors, all of my ancestors: male and female. They were observing me in my quest to do something good for community, humanity, our legacy. They wanted me to know they were aware of my efforts and that they acknowledged them to be in alignment with their will. Their morphing into one, then into a wall represented their solid support for me in this journey. The songs were provided to comfort me and to let me know I am never alone.
I believe this dream to be a true message to me. I believe in the Spiritual connectedness of all of us. I believe when two people share a deep and personal conversation their Spirits also share in the interchange. I also believe we are all connected to our ancestral past.
Today I’ll go forward with an even greater sense of who I am and what life means to me. Today I’ve been reminded that my journey is so much more then the challenges I face or the things I have around me. Today I’m shown my body, mind, and soul are in alignment and that my path to realizing my goal is assured.
And today, once again, I will gladly put one foot in front of the other as I happily take part in this, My Journey.
No. 25 - My Child Too
I heard the words as they were said, but didn’t quite comprehend them. A moment, two, three… then the realization of what was said slowly began to dawn on me. Slowly, at first, then with the stealth and numbing coldness of a winter blizzard my consciousness comprehended the spoken words. I sat there, frozen and shocked at what was becoming a greater sense of hurt with each passing moment.
How could it be that in a single moment in time, and with the stroke of someone else’s pen, my connection to my child would be relegated to seeing her “just every so often”? A tear fell. Then another. Don’t these people know my child needs me as much as she needs her Mother? Don’t they understand that balance is realized when there is both Mother and Father in the child’s life?
“Your Honor, you have stated you are doing what’s in the best interest of my child. I have stated my case, her Mother has stated hers… where is the proof that I am not worthy of spending equal time with my child?”
She looked at me through the wire frame glasses that seemed they would fall from her nose at any time. Her papers ruffled, a mass of charts, petitions, motions, and other such “legal” documents. “Sir”, she said, “the laws are set in stone and I’m obligated to stick to the rule of law in making my judgment. You are welcome to revisit this matter in the coming months if you have issue with the court. But my ruling stands.”
“Your Honor, I have provided for, cared for, loved and actively participated in my child’s life. I’ve been a good Father to her and I know this is not the right thing to do. I’m asking that you reconsider your ruling”.
Then I heard: “Your Honor, we thank you for your decision. We have no other concerns. If it pleases the court I have another case to get to…”, from the attorney sitting across the bench from me, her unsympathetic disassociation virtually seething from her pores.
I looked at her, a mix of rage, frustration, sadness, hurt, all creating a mosaic of ever-moving emotions yearning for release from within me. I looked at my child’s Mother, seated there, smug, uncaring… satisfied that she had hurt me. I then understood what it meant to be betrayed. I understood the deep psychological torment betrayal unleashed on the minds and hearts of the betrayed. My Spirit had fallen to a very dark and lonely place.
I sat there, perplexed. A moment in time now seemed like an eternity in Hell. To know that I would no longer have this child I had lived every day of my life with for and with for years, who I had fathered and had nurtured, who I had taken to doctors appointments and to school, who would follow me throughout the house as soon as I got home from work – My Child – was a blow to my psyche that would not be soon recovered from.
Did it matter how we had gotten here? Did it matter what one side or the other had to say regarding the dissolution of the marriage? Did any of that have any real value when considering what was being lost?
Some would say it did. Some would preach we should never get married if we were to divorce. Others would argue it serves a man right when there is a divorce because children are often closer to Mothers then to Fathers.
I say look to the child.
“Case number H334503-G now…”, was all I remember hearing as I sat there. I’m not sure if the Bailiff escorted me out or if I walked out on my own volition. I remember a haziness that distorted my focus as I looked at the lines of people who waited in the corridor, while walking out of the courtroom. I remember somehow collecting myself to keep from breaking down, showing some semblance of “manhood”. I saw my child’s Mother and her attorney walking cheerfully into the elevator. I chose the stairs.
When I finally got to my car I found it difficult to leave. I wanted to sit there for a while, hoping beyond hope that the experience I had just gone through was nothing more than a nightmare, or that is was someone else’s experience.
I reached around to get my seatbelt and caught a glimpse of a picture I had taped to the dashboard in hopes of good luck. A picture of my beautiful little girl, smiling into the camera, innocent, not deserving stared lovingly at me. Yet she, like so many other children nowadays, was to become the biggest loser in court today. For as a child, she does not – and should not – have the coping skills to deal with such a tragic breaking away from her parent.
The tears let loose in a torrent. And as I cried I realized one other reality that was a certain to come as the moments I spent lost in my sorrow. And what I realized drove my despair to an even greater level – I had fallen into the abyss.
This hurt and suffering, this broken connectivity to the familiar, this terrible feeling of aloneness and loss would not be mine alone. I understood that even as I have been caused to feel this way, it would cause the same, in My Child Too.
And the tears kept coming…
How could it be that in a single moment in time, and with the stroke of someone else’s pen, my connection to my child would be relegated to seeing her “just every so often”? A tear fell. Then another. Don’t these people know my child needs me as much as she needs her Mother? Don’t they understand that balance is realized when there is both Mother and Father in the child’s life?
“Your Honor, you have stated you are doing what’s in the best interest of my child. I have stated my case, her Mother has stated hers… where is the proof that I am not worthy of spending equal time with my child?”
She looked at me through the wire frame glasses that seemed they would fall from her nose at any time. Her papers ruffled, a mass of charts, petitions, motions, and other such “legal” documents. “Sir”, she said, “the laws are set in stone and I’m obligated to stick to the rule of law in making my judgment. You are welcome to revisit this matter in the coming months if you have issue with the court. But my ruling stands.”
“Your Honor, I have provided for, cared for, loved and actively participated in my child’s life. I’ve been a good Father to her and I know this is not the right thing to do. I’m asking that you reconsider your ruling”.
Then I heard: “Your Honor, we thank you for your decision. We have no other concerns. If it pleases the court I have another case to get to…”, from the attorney sitting across the bench from me, her unsympathetic disassociation virtually seething from her pores.
I looked at her, a mix of rage, frustration, sadness, hurt, all creating a mosaic of ever-moving emotions yearning for release from within me. I looked at my child’s Mother, seated there, smug, uncaring… satisfied that she had hurt me. I then understood what it meant to be betrayed. I understood the deep psychological torment betrayal unleashed on the minds and hearts of the betrayed. My Spirit had fallen to a very dark and lonely place.
I sat there, perplexed. A moment in time now seemed like an eternity in Hell. To know that I would no longer have this child I had lived every day of my life with for and with for years, who I had fathered and had nurtured, who I had taken to doctors appointments and to school, who would follow me throughout the house as soon as I got home from work – My Child – was a blow to my psyche that would not be soon recovered from.
Did it matter how we had gotten here? Did it matter what one side or the other had to say regarding the dissolution of the marriage? Did any of that have any real value when considering what was being lost?
Some would say it did. Some would preach we should never get married if we were to divorce. Others would argue it serves a man right when there is a divorce because children are often closer to Mothers then to Fathers.
I say look to the child.
“Case number H334503-G now…”, was all I remember hearing as I sat there. I’m not sure if the Bailiff escorted me out or if I walked out on my own volition. I remember a haziness that distorted my focus as I looked at the lines of people who waited in the corridor, while walking out of the courtroom. I remember somehow collecting myself to keep from breaking down, showing some semblance of “manhood”. I saw my child’s Mother and her attorney walking cheerfully into the elevator. I chose the stairs.
When I finally got to my car I found it difficult to leave. I wanted to sit there for a while, hoping beyond hope that the experience I had just gone through was nothing more than a nightmare, or that is was someone else’s experience.
I reached around to get my seatbelt and caught a glimpse of a picture I had taped to the dashboard in hopes of good luck. A picture of my beautiful little girl, smiling into the camera, innocent, not deserving stared lovingly at me. Yet she, like so many other children nowadays, was to become the biggest loser in court today. For as a child, she does not – and should not – have the coping skills to deal with such a tragic breaking away from her parent.
The tears let loose in a torrent. And as I cried I realized one other reality that was a certain to come as the moments I spent lost in my sorrow. And what I realized drove my despair to an even greater level – I had fallen into the abyss.
This hurt and suffering, this broken connectivity to the familiar, this terrible feeling of aloneness and loss would not be mine alone. I understood that even as I have been caused to feel this way, it would cause the same, in My Child Too.
And the tears kept coming…
No. 23 - Did She Jump?
What causes a Queen to lose sight of self and think of committing suicide? What could happen to a mother, sister, Sister, wife, lover that would push her to the edge of her will to survive? What makes a woman want to end it all right here, right now?
These are the questions that ran through my mind on Saturday as I drove across the Bay Bridge and saw a beautiful Black Queen distraught, and about to end her life. Traffic was bumper to bumper as the rubberneckers look on with disbelief as this wonderful Sister stood there, braced against the outer fence, crying hysterically, and barely listening to the many policemen that surrounded her.
I wondered if she had recently discovered her man had cheated on her. Had she recently lost her job and, knowing she was now doomed because of the terrible job market, decided she could take the suffering no more? Or was she simply tired of the hurt, hardship and hypocrisy of the modern day? What was the reason?
I, too, slowed to look at her. I, too, was mesmerized by the images that pervaded my mind as a policeman extended his hand to her. “Sister”, I wanted to cry out, “don’t do this… you are beautiful and worthy of life”.
I eased over into the lane to stop… only to be told to keep it moving by one of the many officers there.
And there you have it. Even in our greatest time of need, when a life is immediately at risk of being lost, we are not allowed to offer our help. This is a theme that is replicated in social and government setting alike. In schoolrooms and boardroom, as well. It is difficult to articulate how significantly overwhelming and urgent my need to step up was at that moment. I can only say I am haunted by my inability to make a difference in this Sisters life.
But this is not where the story ends for it only serves as (yet another) reminder of how far we have to go to reclaim that which is lost and thought to be a thing of our past. It is one more demonstration of how low our society has gone and how sadly we have acted on behalf of our community.
I think there should have been a throng of Black Kings and Queens standing right there with her, urging her to remember her greatness. That throng should have reached out and collectively extended their hands to that Queen to give her the tangible proof she needed to know she was valued? That throng should have pushed aside the policemen who had no idea of her struggles, and let their will for her to live be known.
“Sister, don’t do this…”
I would like to feel encouraged that we can make a difference in our community and in our lives. I would like to know we are no longer afraid to demonstrate our caring for one another. I would like to create enough awareness within our community to get us started on our path to realizing the greatness that is within us all.
Today, I looked on line to see what I could find out about this ordeal, for surely there must have been some mention of it somewhere. And there was. The articles I ran across sited the long lines of traffic that were backed up because of the incident. They mentioned the slow going of traffic because of some unknown womans’ attempt to end her life. Now, to the credit of SF Gate I will concede they pointed out she responded favorably when her family came to her aid.
I rest my case.
Her family made the difference. Not the police, or the press, or the passersby. Her family. We should understand the value of this truth because it is a poignant demonstration of the power of family and love. We should take this truth to heart as we go about our daily toil because, whether we want to admit it or not, family always makes a difference in the lives of those who are troubled.
As I sit here I can start to feel better that, even though I was unable to do anything other then send out a prayer for this Queen, my prayer was answered and we have yet another reason to celebrate our strength as a people. For, indeed, we came to her rescue. And while I was not the active force that made her rescue possible, I am delighted to know that my fellow Brothers and Sisters did.
My message to all is quite simple as I reflect upon this ordeal, and as it settles in my mind…
Brothers and Sisters, Kings and Queens… we can do this.
These are the questions that ran through my mind on Saturday as I drove across the Bay Bridge and saw a beautiful Black Queen distraught, and about to end her life. Traffic was bumper to bumper as the rubberneckers look on with disbelief as this wonderful Sister stood there, braced against the outer fence, crying hysterically, and barely listening to the many policemen that surrounded her.
I wondered if she had recently discovered her man had cheated on her. Had she recently lost her job and, knowing she was now doomed because of the terrible job market, decided she could take the suffering no more? Or was she simply tired of the hurt, hardship and hypocrisy of the modern day? What was the reason?
I, too, slowed to look at her. I, too, was mesmerized by the images that pervaded my mind as a policeman extended his hand to her. “Sister”, I wanted to cry out, “don’t do this… you are beautiful and worthy of life”.
I eased over into the lane to stop… only to be told to keep it moving by one of the many officers there.
And there you have it. Even in our greatest time of need, when a life is immediately at risk of being lost, we are not allowed to offer our help. This is a theme that is replicated in social and government setting alike. In schoolrooms and boardroom, as well. It is difficult to articulate how significantly overwhelming and urgent my need to step up was at that moment. I can only say I am haunted by my inability to make a difference in this Sisters life.
But this is not where the story ends for it only serves as (yet another) reminder of how far we have to go to reclaim that which is lost and thought to be a thing of our past. It is one more demonstration of how low our society has gone and how sadly we have acted on behalf of our community.
I think there should have been a throng of Black Kings and Queens standing right there with her, urging her to remember her greatness. That throng should have reached out and collectively extended their hands to that Queen to give her the tangible proof she needed to know she was valued? That throng should have pushed aside the policemen who had no idea of her struggles, and let their will for her to live be known.
“Sister, don’t do this…”
I would like to feel encouraged that we can make a difference in our community and in our lives. I would like to know we are no longer afraid to demonstrate our caring for one another. I would like to create enough awareness within our community to get us started on our path to realizing the greatness that is within us all.
Today, I looked on line to see what I could find out about this ordeal, for surely there must have been some mention of it somewhere. And there was. The articles I ran across sited the long lines of traffic that were backed up because of the incident. They mentioned the slow going of traffic because of some unknown womans’ attempt to end her life. Now, to the credit of SF Gate I will concede they pointed out she responded favorably when her family came to her aid.
I rest my case.
Her family made the difference. Not the police, or the press, or the passersby. Her family. We should understand the value of this truth because it is a poignant demonstration of the power of family and love. We should take this truth to heart as we go about our daily toil because, whether we want to admit it or not, family always makes a difference in the lives of those who are troubled.
As I sit here I can start to feel better that, even though I was unable to do anything other then send out a prayer for this Queen, my prayer was answered and we have yet another reason to celebrate our strength as a people. For, indeed, we came to her rescue. And while I was not the active force that made her rescue possible, I am delighted to know that my fellow Brothers and Sisters did.
My message to all is quite simple as I reflect upon this ordeal, and as it settles in my mind…
Brothers and Sisters, Kings and Queens… we can do this.
No. 22 - Boycott “first Sunday”
In movie theaters across America the hollywood engine is, once again, at work destroying the Black community. There is a statement we’ve all heard… “Art Imitates Life”… that’s only half of the truth… the other half is: “Art Dictates Life”. The truth of the matter is film is used to placate, implant, and incite society to respond to what is shown. I say this as a filmmaker, and I say it as a writer.
I am absolutely enraged at the very thought of a movie making light of – even making fun of – a Black church being robbed! hollywood will never be ashamed of itself unless we decide to hold hollywood accountable for their abundantly obvious callus and disrespect for our Church community. Our Churches are the very institutions that have safeguarded our communities and given us a greater sense of being. Our churches have served to meet our needs in so many cases when government, friends, family or work could not.
We are being stomped on, urinated on, and laughed at once again by the “powers that be”, and when it is all said and done they expect us to pay for admission to receive that “service”. My heart is screaming louder with every beat: WHEN WILL WE WAKE UP?
This is a call to every self-respecting member of the community, the clergy or the congregation to step to the plate and forego the lip service. This is my challenge to everyone who reads this to pass this on to anyone who has ever opened their mouth and said they believe in God, or they are a churchgoer.
If we ever needed a rallying cry to bring our people together to respond to the utter disdain so many have for our communities and beliefs, this is the call.
That movie should be boycotted. And every theater across this country that plays it should also be boycotted until WE feel they understand this will not be tolerated. And I believe the makers of that vile product owe the Black community a formal and public apology.
If you do not believe this film will plant subversive messages in the minds of the weak, the corrupt, or the grossly impoverished, I would ask you to consider this: About a week ago in a small church in Bloomingdale, Georgia, my mothers best friend along with some fellow Church members were robbed at gun point in church. True Story!
We have got to understand that until we start caring about ourselves, and the way we are collectively treated we will always be the brunt of the joke for much of mainstream America.
There is no humor in stealing from the Church. There is no humor in robbing the Church. There is no humor in one Black person robbing another. How can we even think there is?
I was taught to believe the Church was sacred in our community… that it deserved our respect because when we were in the throes of our fight for civil rights it was our safe haven, our place of common inspiration, our community stronghold. And let us not forget that during slavery Churches across America housed and hid our ancestors who were fleeing from that monstrosity. What has become so important that we have decided to sit on our laurels while the last standing frontier, the last standing representative voice of the Black community, is so openly disrespected.
It doesn’t matter if you are Baptist, Methodist, Seventh Day Adventist, Muslim, Catholic, Buddhist or Jehovah’s Witness… if you are Black then this movie insults and attacks you. And you ought to be raising the alarm in your place of worship, in your community, on your job and through your network. We ought to make it clear we will not tolerate this kind of demeaning, disrespectful vileness.
Let us not be misled… the people who put this product out there will not be impressed by a letter or a phone call. Those options may not even get their attention.
Black people are the primary group supporting the struggling motion picture film industry in America. When we stop supporting them, they will listen.
Think Montgomery Bus boycott, and the difference that made in America.
And while my tone may be misconstrued as demanding, please understand it is not… It is urgent!
I am absolutely enraged at the very thought of a movie making light of – even making fun of – a Black church being robbed! hollywood will never be ashamed of itself unless we decide to hold hollywood accountable for their abundantly obvious callus and disrespect for our Church community. Our Churches are the very institutions that have safeguarded our communities and given us a greater sense of being. Our churches have served to meet our needs in so many cases when government, friends, family or work could not.
We are being stomped on, urinated on, and laughed at once again by the “powers that be”, and when it is all said and done they expect us to pay for admission to receive that “service”. My heart is screaming louder with every beat: WHEN WILL WE WAKE UP?
This is a call to every self-respecting member of the community, the clergy or the congregation to step to the plate and forego the lip service. This is my challenge to everyone who reads this to pass this on to anyone who has ever opened their mouth and said they believe in God, or they are a churchgoer.
If we ever needed a rallying cry to bring our people together to respond to the utter disdain so many have for our communities and beliefs, this is the call.
That movie should be boycotted. And every theater across this country that plays it should also be boycotted until WE feel they understand this will not be tolerated. And I believe the makers of that vile product owe the Black community a formal and public apology.
If you do not believe this film will plant subversive messages in the minds of the weak, the corrupt, or the grossly impoverished, I would ask you to consider this: About a week ago in a small church in Bloomingdale, Georgia, my mothers best friend along with some fellow Church members were robbed at gun point in church. True Story!
We have got to understand that until we start caring about ourselves, and the way we are collectively treated we will always be the brunt of the joke for much of mainstream America.
There is no humor in stealing from the Church. There is no humor in robbing the Church. There is no humor in one Black person robbing another. How can we even think there is?
I was taught to believe the Church was sacred in our community… that it deserved our respect because when we were in the throes of our fight for civil rights it was our safe haven, our place of common inspiration, our community stronghold. And let us not forget that during slavery Churches across America housed and hid our ancestors who were fleeing from that monstrosity. What has become so important that we have decided to sit on our laurels while the last standing frontier, the last standing representative voice of the Black community, is so openly disrespected.
It doesn’t matter if you are Baptist, Methodist, Seventh Day Adventist, Muslim, Catholic, Buddhist or Jehovah’s Witness… if you are Black then this movie insults and attacks you. And you ought to be raising the alarm in your place of worship, in your community, on your job and through your network. We ought to make it clear we will not tolerate this kind of demeaning, disrespectful vileness.
Let us not be misled… the people who put this product out there will not be impressed by a letter or a phone call. Those options may not even get their attention.
Black people are the primary group supporting the struggling motion picture film industry in America. When we stop supporting them, they will listen.
Think Montgomery Bus boycott, and the difference that made in America.
And while my tone may be misconstrued as demanding, please understand it is not… It is urgent!
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