Showing posts with label Black in America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black in America. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

George Floyd Memorial a gut-wrenching confirmation of America's continuing Black genocide

My husband and I took a road trip to my oldest sister-in-law's house in Minnesota with our youngest son and his lady the last week of August.

Thinking about how badly I'd been needing to get away from it all, I shelved my traveling-during-COVID paranoia and agreed to the drive up for a surprise, early birthday party for my nephew on Saturday, 8/22.  Instead of getting away from it all -- I drove right into it.

Arriving on Friday evening, we unwound at a laid back, socially distanced, driveway-hang-out that night at my oldest niece's house with her little family of three, her younger sister, their mom and my other sister-in-law who'd flown in from New York for the party.  Unlike the 100-degree temperatures we'd been suffering in Texas, the weather was GREAT as we sat under the stars talking, laughing, drinking and catching up (not via Zoom for a change).  Because we were a part of the surprise, my nephew wasn't invited but, we'd been texting back-and-forth all evening about what he'd been doing in the community since George Floyd's murder (unbeknownst to him, I WAS in Minnesota).

Then, oddly, I got this text from him at 7:25 pm (which I read to everybody else).  He said, "Listening to Ranky Tanky and thinking of you.  Love you guys and miss you all so much.  Wish I had my family here with me. Fuck Covid!"  Then he uploaded Ranky Tanky's, "That's Alright" (Long story for later about our bond over Ranky Tanky!  Suffice it to say, he respects my Gullah heritage.).  We thought our surprise was blown!  I texted him back saying, "I feel exactly the same, Nephew.  Promise we'll make that happen one day soon!"       

On Saturday, per his wife's invitatiion, we had a mask-wearing, tables 6 feet apart, outside in the yard shindig that was fuck*n wonderful!!!   Minnesota being a swing state, we had some serious political and racial conversations under the tent.  I so appreciated that!

On Sunday, we spent a beautiful day at my youngest niece's house on a pontoon boat on the lake all day and finally, I felt all the tension I'd brought with me just drain away.

On Monday though, we went to the George Floyd Memorial -- and it felt like someone was squeezing my heart as we walked through the closed-off part of the neighborhood from the Cup Foods. This is what I saw first:


When we reached the end of the trail of names and I looked back, the stark visualization of the nationwide numbers of Black deaths felt like somebody had kicked me in the gut. My son put his arms around me and said, "Mom, it happened again." He told me about the Jacob Blake video in Kenosha, not far across the state line from where we were.  I'd slept so hard and peacefully the night before, I hadn't heard yet because I'd neither watched TV,  nor been online. He wanted to show it to me but -- I. JUST. COULDN'T.

Instead, I walked down to here, the "Say Their Names" Cemetery:


Standing in that makeshift cemetery with all those "headstones" listing the names again (but this time, along with their dates of birth and death, with their actual ages over the dash) -- I thought about Jacob Blake, his children in the car watching him get shot, and how George Floyd's very public death had neither stopped nor slowed the reign of terror in our communities by these sometimes-scared, oftentimes intentional, always-jumpy jackbooted thugs. I just started to shake my head and cry. 

I knew they'd quickly be "dirtying" him up, saying the cop was "in fear for his life," putting the cops involved on pretty much a paid vacation "pending investigation," despite the video.  I also knew they'd blame him for his own murder. And they've done it all, as usual.

My nieces, along with their young children (one, a nine year-old girl and the other, an eight year-old boy), followed close behind me.  I heard the nine year-old ask her mom incredulously,  "Did all these people get killed by the police??"  Her mom said yes.  "And they ALL  had Black skin??" she asked.  Again, her mom said yes. As the kids went from headstone to headstone they stopped at the one for Aiyana Jones. The nine year-old said to her eight year old cousin, "Sal, she was only seven years old!"  My knees buckled and I bent over.  Sal's mom came up from behind me, tears streaming down her face and asked, "Are you alright Aunt Debi?" All I could do was shake my head no as we cried together. 

Adding insult to injury on Tuesday night, here comes 17 year-old Kyle Rittenhouse, open-carrying against Wisconsin law when the protests broke out -- killing two people an injuring one. I was enraged as I saw cops pretty much give him the Dylan Roof treatment as he walked toward them with his long gun slung over his shoulder and his hands up (I was living in Charleston when Roof murdered the Emanuel 9 on my oldest son's birthday in 2015). Only thing missing was an offer to get him a damned burger.

So much for trying to get away from it all. 

We cannot allow this to continue, Family. We've got to keep raising these issues by whatever means necessary and available.  Jacob Blake's sister said it way better and more succinctly than I ever could,  here:

Friday, July 24, 2020

7/24 -- always a day of mourning, celebration and anticipation...

I woke up this morning, rolling over and looking out my bedroom window where, for the last three years, I've seen a cardinal flying from its nest in the trees behind my back yard to my neighbors bird feeder next door.  I didn't see the cardinal this morning which, to many, is a sign of a spirit watching over you.

It's been 24 years since my mother died in Charleston on my niece's 18th birthday -- a week before my 46th birthday.  It seemed to explain the fitful, sweat-drenched, menopausal sleep I had last night.

I told the husband about it this morning and he said,"Maybe it was your Mom saying, 'You got this, Deb,' you don't need me anymore."  I think he was right, at least partially.

She was "Woman" in my life.  Sometimes gettin' the hell on my last nerve, sometimes bein' the person whom I looked up to most as friend, ally and not-takin-any-shit-from-white folk role model. I remember her coming to Immaculate Conception (ICS) to pick me and my brother up to go march in Charleston's, 1969 Hospital Workers strike, led by her friend and fellow Dreamer's Social Club member, Miss Mary Moultrie.  I was 13.

These women met monthly, pooled their "dues," had a great time playing cards, eating and talking about family and friends and had an even better time annually, as they used that pooled cash to travel America. Miss Dora, my family's next-door neighbor, is the only one left to my knowledge.

I remember her fighting her way up from short-order cook on the Navy Base to running all the cafeterias on that base.  I also remember her (respectability politics aside), demanding that we do better, be better than who she was. As I look back on my life at 63, I did better -- but I could never be better than the woman she was.

I miss you so much, Mama -- you'd be proud of these young, Black folk today!

Saturday, July 4, 2020

Mr. Frederick Douglass said...


...Fellow Citizens, I am not wanting in respect for the fathers of this republic. The signers of the Declaration of Independence were brave men. They were great men too, great enough to give frame to a great age. It does not often happen to a nation to raise, at one time, such a number of truly great men. The point from which I am compelled to view them is not, certainly, the most favorable; and yet I cannot contemplate their great deeds with less than admiration. They were statesmen, patriots and heroes, and for the good they did, and the principles they contended for, I will unite with you to honor their memory....

...Fellow-citizens, pardon me, allow me to ask, why am I called upon to speak here today? What have I, or those I represent, to do with your national independence? Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us? And am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering to the national altar, and to confess the benefits and express devout gratitude for the blessings resulting from your independence to us?

Would to God, both for your sakes and ours, that an affirmative answer could be truthfully returned to these questions! Then would my task be light and my burden easy and delightful. For who is there so cold, that a nation's sympathy could not warm him? Who so obdurate and dead to the claims of gratitude, that would not thankfully acknowledge such priceless benefits? Who so stolid and selfish, that would not give his voice to swell the hallelujahs of a nation's jubilee, when the chains of servitude had been torn from his limbs? I am not that man. In a case like that, the dumb might eloquently speak, and the "lame man leap as an hart."

But such is not the state of the case. I say it with a sad sense of the disparity between us. I am not included within the pale of glorious anniversary! Your high independence only reveals the immeasurable distance between us. The blessings in which you, this day, rejoice, are not enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity and independence, bequeathed by your fathers, is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought light and healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn. To drag a man in fetters into the grand illuminated temple of liberty, and call upon him to join you in joyous anthems, were inhuman mockery and sacrilegious irony. Do you mean, citizens, to mock me, by asking me to speak today? If so, there is a parallel to your conduct. And let me warn you that it is dangerous to copy the example of a nation whose crimes, towering up to heaven, were thrown down by the breath of the Almighty, burying that nation in irrevocable ruin! I can today take up the plaintive lament of a peeled and woe-smitten people!

"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down. Yea! We wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there, they that carried us away captive, required of us a song; and they who wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth."

Fellow-citizens, above your national, tumultuous joy, I hear the mournful wail of millions! whose chains, heavy and grievous yesterday, are, today, rendered more intolerable by the jubilee shouts that reach them. If I do forget, if I do not faithfully remember those bleeding children of sorrow this day, "may my right hand forget her cunning, and may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth!" To forget them, to pass lightly over their wrongs, and to chime in with the popular theme, would be treason most scandalous and shocking, and would make me a reproach before God and the world. My subject, then, fellow-citizens, is American slavery. I shall see this day and its popular characteristics from the slave's point of view. Standing there identified with the American bondman, making his wrongs mine, I do not hesitate to declare, with all my soul, that the character and conduct of this nation never looked blacker to me than on this 4th of July! Whether we turn to the declarations of the past, or to the professions of the present, the conduct of the nation seems equally hideous and revolting. America is false to the past, false to the present, and solemnly binds herself to be false to the future. Standing with God and the crushed and bleeding slave on this occasion, I will, in the name of humanity which is outraged, in the name of liberty which is fettered, in the name of the constitution and the Bible which are disregarded and trampled upon, dare to call in question and to denounce, with all the emphasis I can command, everything that serves to perpetuate slavery, the great sin and shame of America!  I will not equivocate; I will not excuse; I will use the severest language I can command; and yet not one word shall escape me that any man, whose judgment is not blinded by prejudice, or who is not at heart a slaveholder, shall not confess to be right and just.

But I fancy I hear some one of my audience say, "It is just in this circumstance that you and your brother abolitionists fail to make a favorable impression on the public mind. Would you argue more, an denounce less; would you persuade more, and rebuke less; your cause would be much more likely to succeed." But, I submit, where all is plain there is nothing to be argued. What point in the anti-slavery creed would you have me argue? On what branch of the subject do the people of this country need light? Must I undertake to prove that the slave is a man? That point is conceded already. Nobody doubts it. The slaveholders themselves acknowledge it in the enactment of laws for their government. They acknowledge it when they punish disobedience on the part of the slave. There are seventy-two crimes in the State of Virginia which, if committed by a black man (no matter how ignorant he be), subject him to the punishment of death; while only two of the same crimes will subject a white man to the like punishment. What is this but the acknowledgment that the slave is a moral, intellectual, and responsible being? The manhood of the slave is conceded. It is admitted in the fact that Southern statute books are covered with enactments forbidding, under severe fines and penalties, the teaching of the slave to read or to write. When you can point to any such laws in reference to the beasts of the field, then I may consent to argue the manhood of the slave. When the dogs in your streets, when the fowls of the air, when the cattle on your hills, when the fish of the sea, and the reptiles that crawl, shall be unable to distinguish the slave from a brute, then will I argue with you that the slave is a man!

For the present, it is enough to affirm the equal manhood of the Negro race. Is it not astonishing that, while we are ploughing, planting, and reaping, using all kinds of mechanical tools, erecting houses, constructing bridges, building ships, working in metals of brass, iron, copper, silver and gold; that, while we are reading, writing and ciphering, acting as clerks, merchants and secretaries, having among us lawyers, doctors, ministers, poets, authors, editors, orators and teachers; that, while we are engaged in all manner of enterprises common to other men, digging gold in California, capturing the whale in the Pacific, feeding sheep and cattle on the hill-side, living, moving, acting, thinking, planning, living in families as husbands, wives and children, and, above all, confessing and worshipping the Christian's God, and looking hopefully for life and immortality beyond the grave, we are called upon to prove that we are men!

Would you have me argue that man is entitled to liberty? That he is the rightful owner of his own body? You have already declared it. Must I argue the wrongfulness of slavery? Is that a question for Republicans? Is it to be settled by the rules of logic and argumentation, as a matter beset with great difficulty, involving a doubtful application of the principle of justice, hard to be understood? How should I look today, in the presence of Americans, dividing, and subdividing a discourse, to show that men have a natural right to freedom? speaking of it relatively and positively, negatively and affirmatively. To do so, would be to make myself ridiculous, and to offer an insult to your understanding. There is not a man beneath the canopy of heaven that does not know that slavery is wrong for him.

What, am I to argue that it is wrong to make men brutes, to rob them of their liberty, to work them without wages, to keep them ignorant of their relations to their fellow men, to beat them with sticks, to flay their flesh with the lash, to load their limbs with irons, to hunt them with dogs, to sell them at auction, to sunder their families, to knock out their teeth, to burn their flesh, to starve them into obedience and submission to their masters? Must I argue that a system thus marked with blood, and stained with pollution, is wrong? No! I will not. I have better employment for my time and strength than such arguments would imply.

What, then, remains to be argued? Is it that slavery is not divine; that God did not establish it; that our doctors of divinity are mistaken? There is blasphemy in the thought. That which is inhuman, cannot be divine! Who can reason on such a proposition? They that can, may; I cannot. The time for such argument is passed.

At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. O! Had I the ability, and could reach the nation's ear, I would, today, pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man must be proclaimed and denounced.

What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer; a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciation of tyrants, brass fronted impudence; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are, to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy — a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of the United States, at this very hour.

Go where you may, search where you will, roam through all the monarchies and despotisms of the Old World, travel through South America, search out every abuse, and when you have found the last, lay your facts by the side of the everyday practices of this nation, and you will say with me, that, for revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns without a rival....

...Allow me to say, in conclusion, notwithstanding the dark picture I have this day presented, of the state of the nation, I do not despair of this country. There are forces in operation which must inevitably work the downfall of slavery. "The arm of the Lord is not shortened," and the doom of slavery is certain. I, therefore, leave off where I began, with hope. While drawing encouragement from "the Declaration of Independence," the great principles it contains, and the genius of American Institutions, my spirit is also cheered by the obvious tendencies of the age. Nations do not now stand in the same relation to each other that they did ages ago. No nation can now shut itself up from the surrounding world and trot round in the same old path of its fathers without interference. The time was when such could be done. Long established customs of hurtful character could formerly fence themselves in, and do their evil work with social impunity. Knowledge was then confined and enjoyed by the privileged few, and the multitude walked on in mental darkness. But a change has now come over the affairs of mankind. Walled cities and empires have become unfashionable. The arm of commerce has borne away the gates of the strong city. Intelligence is penetrating the darkest corners of the globe. It makes its pathway over and under the sea, as well as on the earth. Wind, steam, and lightning are its chartered agents. Oceans no longer divide, but link nations together. From Boston to London is now a holiday excursion. Space is comparatively annihilated. — Thoughts expressed on one side of the Atlantic are distinctly heard on the other.

The far off and almost fabulous Pacific rolls in grandeur at our feet. The Celestial Empire, the mystery of ages, is being solved. The fiat of the Almighty, "Let there be Light," has not yet spent its force. No abuse, no outrage whether in taste, sport or avarice, can now hide itself from the all-pervading light. The iron shoe, and crippled foot of China must be seen in contrast with nature. Africa must rise and put on her yet unwoven garment. Ethiopia, shall stretch out her hand unto God.  In the fervent aspirations of William Lloyd Garrison, I say, and let every heart join in saying it:

God speed the year of jubilee

The wide world o'er!

When from their galling chains set free,

Th' oppress'd shall vilely bend the knee,

And wear the yoke of tyranny

Like brutes no more.

That year will come, and freedom's reign,

To man his plundered rights again

Restore.

God speed the day when human blood

Shall cease to flow!

In every clime be understood,

The claims of human brotherhood,

And each return for evil, good,

Not blow for blow;

That day will come all feuds to end,

And change into a faithful friend

Each foe.

God speed the hour, the glorious hour,

When none on earth

Shall exercise a lordly power,

Nor in a tyrant's presence cower;

But to all manhood's stature tower,

By equal birth!

That hour will come, to each, to all,

And from his Prison-house, to thrall

Go forth.

Until that year, day, hour, arrive,

With head, and heart, and hand I'll strive,

To break the rod, and rend the gyve,

The spoiler of his prey deprive -

So witness Heaven!

And never from my chosen post,

Whate'er the peril or the cost,

Be driven.

Mr. Frederick Douglass
July 5, 1852
Rochester New York

(All emphasis mine)

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Soul Train Music Awards...

Tear it up Chillun!  I was blessed to have existed on the bridge of Erykah Badu and Gladys Knight -- and for that, I'm so very grateful:



Erykah and India -- what more can Black folk want??!!  Okay, Teddy Riley was, and is -- the SHIT!

Talked to the husband, who's out of the country for work, and he said "How old are we Deb, that the guy who gets a "Legend Award" -- is somebody whose music we loved and danced to??!!   Then he started singing "Let's Chill, let's settle down..."!!  All I could say was, "No shit!" as the tears streamed down my face.  I've never loved him more...

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

50th anniversary of the "Sound of Music"


A quick post for now (just because I'm tired of hearing about the wondrousness of it all today).  My sister, seven years older than me and eight years older than my brother, took us to see the "Sound of Music" here in Charleston when it debuted at the Riviera Theatre.  We had to sit upstairs, in the balcony -- cuz that's where the "Coloreds" had to sit.  I'm 58 years old now, and seems I'll never forget, nor "get over" that memory.  It's important I never do...

Thursday, December 4, 2014

"Strange Fruit" -- still just as low-hanging as we ever were

UPDATE: Take a listen as Mychal Denzel Smith from The Nation and former NYPD detective Graham Witherspoon talk some REAL truth to power on Democracy Now:



~#~



Family, Ms. Holiday is singing my heart's song tonight.  Not only is my heart past breaking, it is broken.  From Michael Brown's murderer not being indicted, to 12 year-old, Tamir Rice being murdered by a cop already deemed unfit, to now -- Eric Garner's murderer NOT being indicted (even with a video) -- it has been a soul-murdering week.

I am numbed by the grand jury's verdict in the Eric Garner case -- and enraged.
"Lynchings offer evidence of how defenseless blacks were,  for the defining characteristic of a lynching is that the murder takes place in public, so everyone knows who did it, yet the crime goes unpunished." (emphasis mine)
Lies My Teacher Told Me -- James Loewen
And we are still defenseless it seems.  Here's "A list of unarmed Blacks killed by police" to which we should pay attention.  Family, if you've not ever visited Abagond's blog, please do -- you'll learn a lot of shit!  If nothing else, it should get your minds clicking about the relevancy of Loewen's quote above.  "In public" and "unpunished" -- that's how they roll, because we continue to let them.

I linked to the video of Eric Garner's murder in my 12/01/14 post about the Michael Brown grand jury's, bullshit non-indictment, but I'm posting it now -- because, unless you're a white supremacist, or a "respectability politics" apologist,  there's no way one can look at it and not believe this cop should not have gone to jail:



And after they choked him to death -- they did nothing (WARNING:  You're viewing Mr. Garner's, already dead body in the video below):



Around the 3:20 click, you hear one of the cops ask, "Did anybody call an ambulance?"  Never mind NONE of those charged "to protect and serve," even attempted to perform CPR (Hey, Twitter-verse:  CLEARLY -- Black lives don't matter!).    At the 4:00 click, they're talking to him like he's faking (or covering their asses):  "Sir, EMS is here, answer their questions, Okay?" (so damned respectful -- after they'd all jumped the big, scary Black man and Pantoleo choked him to death, No?).  Then, at the 4:03 click we hear one of them saying, "He can't breathe."  I'm with Mr. Garner's wife -- at WHAT video was the grand jury looking???  Maybe that's why the prosecutors gave all the other officers involved, immunity before testifying.

And what kind of EMS personnel can Black folk expect to respond in NYC, or anywhere in this country for that matter (cute white ones with nice jewelry, it seems)???  From the 4:03 click to the 4:27 click, she's checking for a pulse, and then -- like the officers covering their asses, she talks to him!  "Sir, it's EMS.  C'mon, we're here to help alright.  We're here to help you (inaudible) alright?"  She gave up after that, and by the 5:15 click, Blacks and Browns in Blue standing around should've been ashamed of their damned selves.

By the 5:59 click, they all knew he was dead, trying to get him up on the stretcher.  "Strange Fruit -- Reloaded."

At the 6:35 click, you hear one of them ask, "Why nobody's doing CPR?"  And white bread in the aviator, "I'm a cop" glasses answers, "Because he's breathing (I'm sure he was one of them that got immunity).

Yes, Brother "Sylon R," -- "That's what the f*ck they do."  I'm tired of being low-hanging fruit, Family.  I've raised two sons who look like me -- and I fear for their lives everyday.

The Medical Examiner ruled Eric Garner's death a "HOMICIDE."  Chokeholds have been banned from the NYPD SOP -- and still, this grand jury let this cop evade indictment.  They, and the grand jury in Ferguson, have literally given cops a license to murder us (as if they needed one).

Screw milk dud-head, Charles Barkley, et al!  When will WE  get, that the White Supremacist Capitalist Patriarchy will never make any bones about erasing us after having used us TO BUILD THIS DAMNED COUNTRY???

My beloved ancestor, Mr. James Baldwin addresses it here for me...



Related:
- The Not So Strange Fruit of Racial Murder
- The System That Failed Eric Garner and Michael Brown Cannot Be Reformed
- When the System Provides No Remedies to Torture, You Must Overthrow It
- Tamir Rice
- Can We Stop Police From Shooting Our Boys?
- Protesters decry Eric Garner grand jury vote LIVE UPDATES
- Man That Filmed NYPD Executing Eric Garner Arrested On Gun Possession Charges 
  (hmmmm)

Friday, October 11, 2013

"American Promise" -- a documentary

Family, since I'm always about full disclosure -- I got the email below a little bit ago and dithered about the request because:
  1. I'm always a little leery about other folk telling me how wonderful something is in representing my lived experiences and 
  2. I don't run ads on my blog for a reason -- everything's not for sale:
Hi Deb,

I just came across your blog and I wanted to reach out and let you know about American Promise, the Sundance Grand Jury prize winning documentary following the journeys of two African-American boys and their families from kindergarten through high school graduation. The film provides a rare look into Black middle class life while exploring the common hopes and hurdles of parents navigating their children’s educational journeys.

"the film is revelatory as an embedded report from the front lines of parenting."
-Film Comment

"American Promise is more than a documentary; it is part of a bigger, ongoing movement about changing perceptions of-and behavior and values with respect to-young African-American males in our society." - Documentary Magazine

I thought the film would be of great interest and conversation for your community. Would you be able to share the below information with your community?

We also have an online day of action on October 15. We are hoping to use this build a HUGE social media buzz about Black Male Achievement and supporting young black boys. Please support us by donating your organization and your personal accounts to our Thunderclap here:  http://thndr.it/16jxiwX mark your calendars for our twitter chat at 3 pm. Thanks!

If you would like to view an online screener of the film, please let me know.

Best,
Darcy
I decided I'd go ahead and post it with the caveat that I'd reserve my comments for after I'd seen it. Here's the descriptive snippet I was asked to post on the blog:
An opportunity to take part in conversations and actions on how we can better serve black boys!

Check out, American Promise, a documentary 13 years in the making, following the journeys of two African-American boys and their families from kindergarten through high school graduation. The film provides a rare look into Black middle class life while exploring the common hopes and hurdles of parents navigating their children’s educational journeys. Releasing in theaters starting October 18. Watch the trailer below. To learn more or find out where it is playing in your city visit http://on.fb.me/17lBHAZ or email info@americanpromise.org 



As promised, I will reserve my comments for after I've seen it -- but I can tell you right now, just from the trailer, I'll have quite a few! Please come back and let's talk.

Related:
‘An Education in Equality’ (please do watch the embedded video here!)

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Mr. Randall Robinson -- a Black man for whom I have the utmost respect

My cousin in Charleston called me yesterday and I was glad.  You see, since those murderers in DC killed Miriam Carey, I've been extremely uneasy -- in a rage really.  I needed to talk to someone who knew me well, so I could sufficiently release it before my head exploded.

We talked about a lot of family and home things (young, Veronica Brown's well-being weighs heavily on my mind still), and she let the raging old, foul-mouthed sailor in me spew forth.  As I was telling her how sick and damned tired I was about plenty on the national front (particularly the murders of Ms. Carey and the diabetic, Jack Lamar Roberson in Waycross, GA, as well as the self-immolation of John Constantino on the Mall in DC), she interrupted me,  reminding me of our departed, "strong, Black woman" grandmother:
"You remember how Grandmama used to say she was just weary when people got on her last, damned nerve?"

"Yes," I said, smiling to myself in instant recollection. "That's exactly how I feel, Verne -- I'm so damned weary!"

We simultaneously laughed out loud, then she said, "I can tell!"
The reason I share that little vignette, is because after we hung up I was pensive. I felt she'd helped me let the air out of the tire a little, but as I sat with myself, I thought about Randall Robinson and his book, Quitting America: The Departure of a Black Man from His Native Land and I went to my bookmarks to listen to his soothing, worldly and informative voice for about an hour.  Not quite sated though, I decided to get full.  I opened a bottle of wine, sat on my screened porch, put my feet up -- and listened to this wonderful CSPAN BookTV Interview from earlier this year on my laptop:



As I listened to that calm voice, gracefully telling the fullness of our story (and theirs), I felt the rest of that air slo-o-owly seep out of the tire.

This wonderful, 72 year-old Black man -- in his own first-person account -- was coolly expressing for me, a damn-near verbatim confirmation (albeit with way more couth than I can muster these days) of all the legitimately seething, anger I feel for this country and its procession of insecure and selfish, megalomaniacal pseudo-leaders with their global "military footprint" at home and abroad.

Gotti
Blanca
By the end of the video and that bottle of wine -- me and my pupples, Blanca and Gotti had all calmed down (both of them asleep at my feet in the waning Texas sun); the pounding in my head had stopped; I was full, and extremely happy I'd chosen to spend the evening with the esteemed and absolutely honorable, Randall Robinson.  I hope you will be too!


Related:
- Randall Robinson Interview, The Progressive
- Randall Robinson (Books)
- Georgia Police Kill Diabetic After Family Calls 911 For Ambulance

- The Normalization of Violence Against Black Women
- Freedom Rider: Aaron Alexis, Miriam Carey and John Constantino

Sunday, October 6, 2013

The white supremacy collective still imposing their hierarchy of human life after all these years

Update: (h/t Nomad @ ironymous) -- Miriam Carey EXECUTED after Baby Removed from car
Update: (h/t Nomad @ ironymous) -- Report: Miriam Carey was fleeing on foot when shot by police
~#~#~#~

I got nothing for Michael Savage, but I agree with him 100% here:





~#~#~#~

From this do-nothing Congress and puppet of a president, who are all literally playing games with the lives of those they claim to "represent," to their bought-and-paid-for media parrots and badge-wearing murderers -- I think it's safe to say, white supremacy, deciding whose life matters and whose does not, is enjoying their greatest heyday since Jim Crow.

I'm sure everyone's seen the video below with Tom Foreman's noxious, "tremendous amount of training actually, in that circumstance, for police to not fire sooner" commentary.



So Tom, let's just go back to that little scene you referenced from the 2:11 click on.  These Keystone Kops had the car surrounded with weapons drawn.  No matter where they were standing, they were close enough to clearly see that, not only was the driver an unarmed, Black woman  -- but that there was a child in the car!

And if, as you say, she was "truly using the car as a weapon" (same meme used when they murdered Sean Bell), rather than just trying to get the hell out of there -- how come she didn't just mow down ALL those fools who were standing right in front of her?

And tell me Tom, what tremendous amount of training did they have that taught them to fire off seven shots at a fleeing vehicle on a public street with pedestrians obviously present? And don't say there weren't any -- it was a pedestrian that shot this footage! Please, stop being so patriarchal, trying to frame this tragic incident for the "white gaze." Some of us can manage to think for ourselves you know!

Words matter, Family. And how they're used matters even more.  As you peruse the links here, I'm certain you'll see what I mean.

Oh and Tom, about that tremendous amount of training?  Guess we, the people will never really know how "tremendous" it is since according to this,  all the law enforcement folks involved have closed ranks -- letting their own foxes guard the henhouse {smdh}:
Brian Leary, a Secret Service spokesman, declined to provide a copy of his agency’s use-of-force or chase policies. Lt. Kimberly Schneider, a spokeswoman for the Capitol Police, did the same.

Leary and Schneider declined to comment on the incident at all, including whether their officers knew that Carey’s 1-year-old daughter was in the car when they fired into it, killing Carey. The toddler was unharmed and is in protective custody as authorities work with Carey’s family to properly place the girl.

The shooting is being investigated by the D.C. police department’s Internal Affairs Division. The Secret Service and Capitol Police will determine whether officers followed their departments’ use-of-force policies. The U.S. attorney’s office will decide whether the agents broke any laws, a D.C. police spokeswoman said.
Miriam Carey, shown in a photo from Facebook
When I read this stupid piece over at Roll Call, talking about how the Capitol Police were "protecting and serving without pay," I immediately uttered a few WTFs as I thought, "Protecting & Serving without pay??!!  How 'bout MURDERING an unarmed woman with her child in the car without pay??!!"

Disagree if you want, but I don't, for a second believe, this woman intended to deliberately breach any barriers with malicious intent toward the Changeling or Congress -- but it sure was Joseph Clifford Reel's intent in June of this year!  Family, the video at the link is a definite, must-see. I promise you, it leaves no doubt at all about his intent (not posting it here because that's exactly what he wanted).

Joseph Reel, 32, of Kettering
This 32 year-old white male, purposely rigged his Jeep to breach those same barriers Ms. Carey was accused of trying to breach on Thursday.  But,  unlike the nothing found in Ms. Carey's car, they found 100 rounds of live .45 caliber ammunition; 100 rounds of live .22 caliber ammunition; eight knives of various sizes; two machetes and one hand-held spotting scope, in his Jeep-- at the damned scene!!

And again, unlike in Ms. Carey's home, where they found a letter to her boyfriend which purportedly contained a white powder and discharge papers listing medication for treating schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and an anti-depressant -- when they searched HIS home, they found those items over there on the right, which included two handguns (a Glock and a Taurus); a baseball bat with spikes on the barrel; a sword; a spear; two ballistic vests; four hunting knives and a gas mask!

While Reel faces 10 years in jail and fines, at least he's alive -- and his now, seven or eight-month old son will one day get to know him.  Not so in either case, for Ms. Carey.

Over at OpEdNews, Rob Kall wrote the interesting and on-point, Another Murder by Police which raised questions that no one in the MSM even saw the need to ask as they blabbed on incessantly as if they actually had an original thought, ie:
...whether this was the right thing to do.
...who gave the orders to shoot to kill.
...what efforts were made to determine whether there were any other passengers, let alone a one year old child, in the car.
He made this very astute observation as well -- "Today we live in a police state, where the police, every day, get away with crimes, get away with killing people, usually poor, often black."

Truer words have never been spoken.

In a nutshell, Mr. Reel's white life merited a restrained response.  But, as usual, they decided -- after her car was stopped -- Ms. Carey's Black life did not. Tell me Family, what more will it take for us to recognize that, from top to bottom and from sea to shining sea -- we continue pledging allegiance to a nation run, and "protected" by murderers for whom the lives of "Others" are expendable?

Related:
- Shot Down Like a dog -- Why We Should Not Forget Miriam Carey
- As Police Tactics Questioned, 'Threat of Terrorism' and 9/11 used to justify Miriam Carey's Death
- Capitol Shooting Suspect Miriam Carey's Sisters Come to Her Defense: 'She Was on Medication'
- Post Partum Depression and Miriam Carey: Stopping the Silent Scourge
- Source: Mental health paperwork found at home of Miriam Carey after Capitol chase
- Possible Clues in Fatal Chase, but No Motive
- Miriam Carey: Did the Capitol Hill Police Have to Kill Her?

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Shabbos Goy, Russell Simmons shows exactly who he's always been -- your apology means nothing!

This will be short.  Russell Simmons may be rich (I'm not impressed), but he's a stupid, shabbos goy suffering from perpetual internalized self-hate -- as he collects your coins for his "music" and "I'm gonna get you sucka," Russ cards.

Margaret Kimberley in her piece over at Freedom Rider says all I care to say, appropriately ending her piece with:
I have so many questions. Who thought of this? What was the pitch meeting like? Did anyone think it might not be a good idea? What went through the minds of the actors and the crew? WTF is wrong with people?
Related:
- The Shabbos goy
- Does anyone care about black women?
- [UPDATE] Russell Simmons’ YouTube Channel Posts Comedy Reenactment of Harriet Tubman’s S*x Tape [Video]

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

The Zimmerman verdict, yet another notch in the belt of the White Supremacist Capitalist Patriarchy

Understand what I say, Prospero:
For years I bowed my head
for years I took it, all of it
your insults, your ingratitude...
and worst of all, more degrading than all the rest,
your condescension,
...
Prospero, you're a great magician:
you're an old hand at deception.
And you lied to me so much,
about the world, about yourself,
that you ended up by imposing on me
an image of myself: -
underdeveloped, in your words, incompetent,
that's how you made me see myself!

And I loathe that image . . . and it's false!
But now I know you, you old cancer,
And I also know myself!


I am just undone.  Though I had hoped against hope that these women, these mothers, would set aside their white privilege long enough to look at this case in its entirety and see it for the racial profiling murder that it was, my fears have been realized -- a Black child is dead for the sole crime of walking to his father's house, and his murderer walks free for a second time, thanks to the machinations of the White Supremacist Capitalist Patriarchy (WSCP).

Laid low by a horrible summer cold all weekend,  Audre Lorde's words from "Sister Outsider," (accompanied by a non-stop headache) pounded incessantly in my head:
"For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change."
It's certainly ironic how well the gay community learned this lesson, while we on the other hand, continue to settle for the "temporary" game.  Our problem, as I see it, is we need to stop electing and supporting lawmakers who, entrenched in their own kind of privilege, turn a blind eye to the need to cease using "the master's tools."

The Supremes' recent, successful attack on Section 4 of the Voting Rights Act (and Congress' apparent unwillingness to address it); Congress' failure to pass gun control legislation; racial profiling and stop & frisk statutes, coupled with the deadly and dangerous Castle Doctrine, Stand Your Ground, and Make My Day laws are all a sampling of the "master's tools" which affect us disproportionately, yet our mis-leadership class (to include the Changeling), seems unable or unwilling to fight for and/or fashion new "tools" to defeat them.

If you read Elder Lorde's essay through a non-homophobic lens, it is impossible to miss the interconnectivity of white supremacy, capitalism and patriarchy evident, not only in the Zimmerman verdict, but from the day George Zimmerman murdered Trayvon Benjamin Martin.  New York Times  Op-ed Columnist, Charles M. Blow brilliantly and eloquently delineates the many instances of that interconnectivity in his, The Whole System Failed Trayvon Martin, so I won't belabor those points here (but please, do read this absolutely moving and factual piece of writing).

However, another of the far-from-subtle racist strategies the Zimmerman defense team used to lead these mostly white, women jurors like horses to the acquittal water trough that Mr. Blow omitted, was their resting their case on the testimony of Zimmerman's young, white, blonde, female neighbor who spoke at length about "two African-American males" who broke into her home to rob and terrorize her.  Talk about invoking those visions of the need to protect frail, white womanhood that left many a "Strange Fruit swingin' in the Southern breeze!"  Some would call it brilliant strategy, I call it priming the racism pump.  But this case was never about race to hear them tell it. {smdh}

Oh!  And let's not forget this stupid statement Zimmerman attorney, Mark O'Mara made after the verdict, which obviously gives the lie to his whole, "I believe in civil rights garbage":



Now there's some white supremacist patriarchy on parade, particularly given this: 'Stand your ground' denied in domestic violence case.

And then, no sooner had the verdict been rendered -- here comes this "Juror B37," giving an interview to Anderson Cooper (no doubt laying the groundwork for her now-aborted book deal).  She's definitely a charter member in the WSCP.  Take a listen to the interview and I'll tell you some of the reasons why I think so after:



  1. "Why would they want to pick me?"  Because you dear, were exactly what the defense was looking for -- someone who could not identify with Trayvon, but instead, the murderer and his attorneys. 
  2. "No, cuz I hadn't followed the trial at all."  No "trial" yet silly woman, but even if you didn't have an idea of what had happened, you most certainly already had some prejudicial ideas brewing in your head, as evidenced by statements you made in your voire dire here.  Aside from "just a broad spectrum of names,"you mentioned "the issues they were having in Sanford when they were having riots" which to your mind, involved "a whole lot of indiscretion and, angry people, and picketing people..." who,  according to you, "can do what they can do as long as it's peaceful." Yet, you thought that, "maybe it was over done." (Am I the only one who missed "the riots?")  And oh, your "Absolutely not" answer to whether you had any discussions about the case with family?  Total bullshit -- what about the book? (see first related story below)
  3. "I thought he was awe-inspiring.  The, the experiences he'd had over in the war, and I just never thought of anybody that could recognize somebody's voice yelling in like a terrible terror voice when he was just previously, half-hour ago playing cards with him."  Awe-inspiring?  Really?  Based on experiences he'd had over in the war? {smdh}
  4. "Chris Serino did...To me, he just was doing his job...  He was doing his job the way he was doing his job.  And he was going to tell the truth, regardless of who asked him the questions....Because he deals with this all the time.  He deals with, you know, murder, robberies, um, he's in it all the time.  And I think 'he has a knack' to pick out who's lying and who's not lying."  Preconceived notions much?!  All I have to say about her blind trust in law enforcement as evidenced here is, "Ignorance is bliss."  Doesn't she sound all blissful about Serino?
  5. "I think they wanted to happen what they wanted to happen, to, to go to their side, for the prosecution and the State....There was no doubt, that they had seen what had happened, because some of it was taped."  A clear and unbiased review of the evidence dontcha know.
  6. "I didn't think it was very credible, but I felt very sorry for her...I think she felt inadequate toward everyone because of her education and communication skills....Because she was using phrases I had never hear before and what they meant.  I think Trayvon probably said that...I just think it was everyday life, the type of life that they live and how they're living and the environment they're living in."  I'm not even going to get started on this unsavory, racist mess -- because it'd take up the entire post!
  7. "I think George Zimmerman was a man whose heart was in the right place but just got displaced by the vandalism in the neighborhoods, and wanting to catch these people so badly hat he went above and beyond what he really should have done...It just went terribly wrong."  Well, yeah?  He killed someone!  Call me crazy, but this sounds like an admission of racial profiling ("these people?") and excessive use of force!
  8. I think George told the truth basically" even though "there were some fabrications,  enhancements.  So kind of lying's okay, right? 
  9. "I think he might have, I  think George probably thought that he did because George was the one who knew that George was carrying a gun." This doesn't even make any sense!  Trayvon might have grabbed for the gun, but George was the only one who knew he had one?  What kind of logic is that?!
  10. "I think he did, because of the evidence...where George says he was punched" Because of what George said.  See, that's the problem.  How can there be a fair trial when the only other witness is dead?
  11. "I think the roles changed.  I think George got in a little too deep, which he shouldn't have been there.  But Trayvon decided that he wasn't gonna let him scare him, and let him get the one-up on him, Trayvon got mad and attacked him."  So again she admits that George was the initial aggressor, but this child had no right to fear for his life.
  12. "I found it credible."  She found the cartoon, based solely on information fed into it by the defense -- credible.  Why am I not surprised (about the cartoon part or the defense-fed part)?
  13. "I don't think he did.  I think just circumstances caused George to think that he might be  a robber or trying to do something bad in the neighborhood because of all that had gone on previously."  And that's not racially profiling him -- even though the robbers in the neighborhood had previously been described as Black men?  This woman keeps pissing on everybody's leg and calling it rain.
  14. "I think he just profiled him, because he was the neighborhood watch and he profiled anybody coming in and acting strange."  So now he did profile him.  {smdh}
  15. "Over-eager to help people" -- now comes the litany on "frail white womanhood," an excuse Klansmen and their kith and kin have been using  for years to justify lynching (or their women tipping out with the help).
  16. "...if he didn't go too far.  He just didn't stop at the limitations that he should've stopped at." He was just frustrated with the whole situation in the neighborhood...he just didn't know when to stop and things just got out of hand."  First of all, that was an awful, long pause before she gave that convoluted answer about whether he could be a neighborhood watch in her community.  And is it me, but doesn't she just keep saying things that gave Trayvon more than enough reason to be in fear for his life?
  17. "The law became very confusing." Problematic for any jury of non-lawyers, to be sure, but then, why is it they only asked for one clarification?
  18. "That was our problem.  I mean it was just so confusing."  So the law was confusing, the instructions were confusing, so what -- they just punted?
  19.  "...because of the heat of the moment and Stand Your Ground."  But his defense wasn't a Stand Your Ground defense was it?  Did I miss something?
I don't believe this woman's crocodile tears, for a single second!  I think she's a not-so-bright, opportunist, with an attorney for a husband who should be prosecuted for something her-damned-self (not exactly sure what yet, but something -- let's wait and see how this whole, breaking sequestration thing pans out).

Finally, please do not make the mistake in thinking that I feel only the defense and the jury's belt got notched here.  The prosecution is just as much a part of the WSCP as they are.  If they weren't, how could they allow themselves to end up with a predominately white jury?  You can't tell me there are no Black folk in Seminole County who can be considered a peer of George Zimmerman's, you just can't.    The legal definition of a Jury of One's Peers is as follows:
The constitutionally guaranteed right of criminal defendants to be tried by their equals, that is, by an impartial group of citizens from the legal jurisdiction where they live. This has been interpreted by courts to mean that the jurors should include a broad representation of the population, particularly with regard to race, national origin, and gender. Notice that this doesn't mean that, for example, women are to be tried by women, Asians by Asians, or African Americans by African Americans. When selecting a jury, the lawyers may not exclude people of a particular race or intentionally narrow the spectrum of possible jurors. (emphasis mine)
And don't say there couldn't have been an impartial Black person there either.  Based on the interview above, Juror B37 was hardly impartial but they chose her!  And please tell me why they chose to use all those video-taped statements from Zimmerman?  He got to testify without ever having to take the stand!  And it's clear as day it was that "testimony" upon which the jury heavily relied (particularly since Trayvon was dead and couldn't testify)!  And why charge 2nd degree murder given the Keystone cops had orchestrated their version of "catch and release" and, had done a half-assed investigation, providing them with little to no evidence to support such a charge? "B37" was right about one thing -- the medical examiner could have done a much better job. I don't care how much Angela Corey prayed with Trayvon's parents.  After beaugardin' her way into the case, she and her office dropped the proverbial ball -- hugely.  But no big deal right?  It was only a young Black boy who was murdered.  They'll get over it -- eventually.

And for all Brother Ass-coverer, Holder's speechifyin', I'm not holding out any hope that Federal charges will be brought -- though they ought to be, because there's no doubt in my mind that Trayvon's civil rights were violated.  But, both he and the Changeling were very careful  in not committing to anything in either of their spewing-forths, hiding behind that whole "rule of law/nation of laws" thing which was never meant to be applied to us in the first place.  After all in this system, it's never what's true, it's what can be proven.  And based on the bungling of this case from beginning to end, they can't seem to  sufficiently prove diddly.

The criminal justice system in this country has been broken for a very long time in favor of the White Supremacist Capitalist Patriarchy, Family.  For those of us who do not have the liberty of claiming white privilege as Zimmerman has in this case, there is no "arc of the moral universe bending toward justice" currently.

But as I revisit Caliban here...
But now, it's over!
Over, do you hear?
Of course, at the moment
You're still stronger than I am.
But I don't give a damn for your power
or for your dogs or your police or your inventions!

And do you know why?
It's because I know I'll get you!
I'll impale you! And on a stake that you've sharpened yourself!
You'll have impaled yourself!
...I think the parents of Trayvon Benjamin Martin can take some small comfort in the fact, that their son's death, given the groundswell of support -- just may have played a pivotal role in changing that trajectory.  I know I'm willing to do all I can to help it along.


Peace and many blessings Sybrina, Tracy and Jahvaris...

Related:
- How the System Worked -- The US v. Trayvon Martin
- Did George Zimmerman Juror B37 Break the Rules of Sequestration During Deliberations?
- Is George Zimmerman white or Hispanic? That depends
- Our real problem is white rage
- White supremacy, meet black rage
- White Truth and Shame
The Trayvon Martin case: A timeline

Saturday, May 18, 2013

"I am a part, of all that I have met" -- a most valuable and seemingly forgotten lesson among us, Brother Malcolm. Happy Birthday!

There's so much I could say about this documentary, but I won't -- not yet. I simply ask that you watch it (if you've not already seen it) and then, let's all talk about it.

Friday, May 17, 2013

"Inseparable" -- how I always want authentic Black women to be!

For a myriad of reasons, it's been a few years since I've watched American Idol.  So you can imagine my surprise and delight in stumbling upon it last night, to not only find that my beautiful, "homegirl," Candice Glover -- had won the whole shebang!!

And unlike the Changeling and his "homeboy," Lincoln -- I'm certain it's safe for me to say that we are not just from the same place, we are of that place, sharing in a collection of innate life experiences and "systems of reality" (as James Baldwin put it) unique to our existences in that place (I'm homesick y'all, can you tell?). This young sister, like my family, is from one of the Sea Islands of South Carolina, all of which (along with those in North Carolina, Georgia and Florida), continue to struggle mightily to preserve our West African heritage through the Gullah and Geechee cultures.  I'm not at all surprised at this young woman's voice, because I know "from whence it came."

Candice, as I'm sure everyone in St. Helena and Beaufort are -- I am so damned proud of you (Whitney lives on, Sister) and your stick-to-it-tiveness!  Hope this is the start of our hearing and having some more great singers, and more great music like you shared throughout the show -- before I drop dead (and yes, I went to YouTube today and listened to all of her performances for the entire show)!

But wait y'all!  Here's the absolutely wonderful icing on the cake -- this, soulful, double-dose of sweet, young, Black womanhood:



Jennifer:  "Sang Candice!" -- I swear, homegirl took me back home to those incredibly, powerful Black choirs, in churches all across the South with those two little words!  And "sang" Candice did!


(P.S. Screw you, Simon Cowell!)

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

From one Black revolutionary to another...

As we spoke about Assata Shakur in the comments on the previous post, Sister Carolyn reminded me of my most favorite, literary Hero's letter to another of my Sheroes -- Angela Davis.  I just had to post it (all boldface mine -- because there are so many messages to be heard):

~#~

An Open Letter to My Sister, Miss Angela Davis
James Baldwin
November 19, 1970

Dear Sister:

One might have hoped that, by this hour, the very sight of chains on black flesh, or the very sight of chains, would be so intolerable a sight for the American people, and so unbearable a memory, that they would themselves spontaneously rise up and strike off the manacles. But, no, they appear to glory in their chains; now, more than ever, they appear to measure their safety in chains and corpses. And so, Newsweek, civilized defender of the indefensible, attempts to drown you in a sea of crocodile tears (“it remained to be seen what sort of personal liberation she had achieved”) and puts you on its cover, chained.

You look exceedingly alone—as alone, say, as the Jewish housewife in the boxcar headed for Dachau, or as any one of our ancestors, chained together in the name of Jesus, headed for a Christian land.

Well. Since we live in an age in which silence is not only criminal but suicidal, I have been making as much noise as I can, here in Europe, on radio and television—in fact, have just returned from a land, Germany, which was made notorious by a silent majority not so very long ago. I was asked to speak on the case of Miss Angela Davis, and did so. Very probably an exercise in futility, but one must let no opportunity slide.

I am something like twenty years older than you, of that generation, therefore, of which George Jackson ventures that “there are no healthy brothers—none at all.”  I am in no way equipped to dispute this speculation (not, anyway, without descending into what, at the moment, would be irrelevant subtleties) for I know too well what he means.  My own state of health is certainly precarious enough. In considering you, and Huey, and George and (especially) Jonathan Jackson, I began to apprehend what you may have had in mind when you spoke of the uses to which we could put the experience of the slave.  What has happened, it seems to me, and to put it far too simply, is that a whole new generation of people have assessed and absorbed their history, and, in that tremendous action, have freed themselves of it and will never be victims again.  This may seem an odd, indefensibly impertinent and insensitive thing to say to a sister in prison, battling for her life—for all our lives.  Yet, I dare to say, for I think that you will perhaps not misunderstand me, and I do not say it, after all, from the position of a spectator.

I am trying to suggest that you—for example—do not appear to be your father’s daughter in the same way that I am my father’s son.  At bottom, my father’s expectations and mine were the same, the expectations of his generation and mine were the same; and neither the immense difference in our ages nor the move from the South to the North could alter these expectations or make our lives more viable.  For, in fact, to use the brutal parlance of that hour, the interior language of that despair, he was just a nigger—a nigger laborer preacher, and so was I.  I jumped the track but that’s of no more importance here, in itself, than the fact that some poor Spaniards become rich bull fighters, or that some poor black boys become rich—boxers, for example.  That’s rarely, if ever, afforded the people more than a great emotional catharsis, though I don’t mean to be condescending about that, either.  But when Cassius Clay became Muhammed Ali and refused to put on that uniform (and sacrificed all that money!) a very different impact was made on the people and a very different kind of instruction had begun.

The American triumph—in which the American tragedy has always been implicit—was to make black people despise themselves.  When I was little I despised myself, I did not know any better. And this meant, albeit unconsciously, or against my will, or in great pain, that I also despised my father.  And my mother.  And my brothers.  And my sisters. Black people were killing each other every Saturday night out on Lenox Avenue, when I was growing up; and no one explained to them, or to me, that it was intended that they should; that they were penned where they were, like animals, in order that they should consider themselves no better than animals. Everything supported this sense of reality, nothing denied it: and so one was ready, when it came time to go to work, to be treated as a slave.  So one was ready, when human terrors came, to bow before a white God and beg Jesus for salvation—this same white God who was unable to raise a finger to do so little as to help you pay your rent, unable to be awakened in time to help you save your child!

There is always, of course, more to any picture than can speedily be perceived and in all of this—groaning and moaning, watching, calculating, clowning, surviving, and outwitting, some tremendous strength was nevertheless being forged, which is part of our legacy today.  But that particular aspect of our journey now begins to be behind us.  The secret is out: we are men!

But the blunt, open articulation of this secret has frightened the nation to death.  I wish I could say, “to life,” but that is much to demand of a disparate collection of displaced people still cowering in their wagon trains and singing “Onward Christian Soldiers.” The nation, if America is a nation, is not in the least prepared for this day.  It is a day which the Americans never expected or desired to see, however piously they may declare their belief in “progress and democracy.”  These words, now, on American lips, have become a kind of universal obscenity: for this most unhappy people, strong believers in arithmetic, never expected to be confronted with the algebra of their history.

One way of gauging a nation’s health, or of discerning what it really considers to be its interests—or to what extent it can be considered as a nation as distinguished from a coalition of special interests—is to examine those people it elects to represent or protect it.  One glance at the American leaders (or figure-heads) conveys that America is on the edge of absolute chaos, and also suggests the future to which American interests, if not the bulk of the American people, appear willing to consign the blacks.  (Indeed, one look at our past conveys that.) It is clear that for the bulk of our (nominal) countrymen, we are all expendable. And Messrs. Nixon, Agnew, Mitchell, and Hoover, to say nothing, of course, of the Kings’ Row basket case, the winning Ronnie Reagan, will not hesitate for an instant to carry out what they insist is the will of the people.

But what, in America, is the will of the people? And who, for the above-named, are the people? The people, whoever they may be, know as much about the forces which have placed the above-named gentlemen in power as they do about the forces responsible for the slaughter in Vietnam.  The will of the people, in America, has always been at the mercy of an ignorance not merely phenomenal, but sacred, and sacredly cultivated: the better to be used by a carnivorous economy which democratically slaughters and victimizes whites and blacks alike.  But most white Americans do not dare admit this (though they suspect it) and this fact contains mortal danger for the blacks and tragedy for the nation.

Or, to put it another way, as long as white Americans take refuge in their whiteness—for so long as they are unable to walk out of this most monstrous of traps—they will allow millions of people to be slaughtered in their name, and will be manipulated into and surrender themselves to what they will think of—and justify—as a racial war.  They will never, so long as their whiteness puts so sinister a distance between themselves and their own experience and the experience of others, feel themselves sufficiently human, sufficiently worthwhile, to become responsible for themselves, their leaders, their country, their children, or their fate.  They will perish (as we once put it in our black church) in their sins—that is, in their delusions.  And this is happening, needless to say, already, all around us.

Only a handful of the millions of people in this vast place are aware that the fate intended for you, Sister Angela, and for George Jackson, and for the numberless prisoners in our concentration camps—for that is what they are—is a fate which is about to engulf them, too. White lives, for the forces which rule in this country, are no more sacred than black ones, as many and many a student is discovering, as the white American corpses in Vietnam prove.  If the American people are unable to contend with their elected leaders for the redemption of their own honor and the lives of their own children, we, the blacks, the most rejected of the Western children, can expect very little help at their hands: which, after all, is nothing new.  What the Americans do not realize is that a war between brothers, in the same cities, on the same soil, is not a racial war but a civil war.  But the American delusion is not only that their brothers all are white but that the whites are all their brothers.

So be it. We cannot awaken this sleeper, and God knows we have tried.  We must do what we can do, and fortify and save each other—we are not drowning in an apathetic self-contempt, we do feel ourselves sufficiently worthwhile to contend even with inexorable forces in order to change our fate and the fate of our children and the condition of the world!  We know that a man is not a thing and is not to be placed at the mercy of things.  We know that air and water belong to all mankind and not merely to industrialists.  We know that a baby does not come into the world merely to be the instrument of someone else’s profit.  We know that democracy does not mean the coercion of all into a deadly—and, finally, wicked—mediocrity but the liberty for all to aspire to the best that is in him, or that has ever been.

We know that we, the blacks, and not only we, the blacks, have been, and are, the victims of a system whose only fuel is greed, whose only god is profit. We know that the fruits of this system have been ignorance, despair, and death, and we know that the system is doomed because the world can no longer afford it—if, indeed, it ever could have. And we know that, for the perpetuation of this system, we have all been mercilessly brutalized, and have been told nothing but lies, lies about ourselves and our kinsmen and our past, and about love, life, and death, so that both soul and body have been bound in hell.

The enormous revolution in black consciousness which has occurred in your generation, my dear sister, means the beginning or the end of America.  Some of us, white and black, know how great a price has already been paid to bring into existence a new consciousness, a new people, an unprecedented nation.  If we know, and do nothing, we are worse than the murderers hired in our name.

If we know, then we must fight for your life as though it were our own—which it is—and render impassable with our bodies the corridor to the gas chamber.  For, if they take you in the morning, they will be coming for us that night.

Therefore: peace.
Brother James

(I just love how we saw, and looked after, one another back then!)
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