The United States has never been a society that embraces social equality. Any measure of perceived equality obtained has come begrudgingly and with shedding of blood. Contrary to documented history that supports this fact, white people still don’t feel they have an advantage in an America that caters to their every need – indeed, their every word. Or, in this case, lack of words. They’ll argue as if U.S. history (dare I say world history?) murdered them for the slightest of white-public-perceived offenses, or oppressed them with racist legislation. As such, this is precisely the kind of autonomous thinking whites employ that opens a portal to their ignorance, brazenly displayed in their inability (and unwillingness) to understand the type of world they have egotistically constructed. Continue reading “The America From Whence He Came”
All I knew about Emmett Till was the image of his bloated figure in that coffin. I think I saw it in an article in one of the magazines we had in the house at the time. His mother was standing next to him looking down on his lifeless body with a countenance that openly displayed her heartache – as open as the casket in which her son lay.
It was an image that stuck with me for a long time. It scared me – I would even say it left a scar on my psyche. I never said anything about it because in my young mind, the mere mention of it would make me feel as if the same thing might happen to me. My mother briefly spoke about the backstory to his murder but I don’t think a single word registered. I was too focused on that gruesome, awful photo. Was that really a little boy? How could a human do something like that to another human, I thought – so grizzly was the image.
Years later, I thought of Emmett Till when Trayvon Martin was murdered. Continue reading “Till Martin Comes Home: Emmett, Trayvon, and Blind Injustice”
(Photo: CAIR, Chicago)
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that game.
We were riding around the city when someone mentioned that there was a basketball tournament at one of the area’s high schools. A team from Gulfport, Mississippi had a star point guard that was playing that night against one of the city’s best high school teams – Washington-Marion High School – so we made our way toward the gym. Washington-Marion was, to us, the best team in the city. A predominantly Black high school located on the north side of town, I always viewed WM as a representation of our Black community – particularly through sports – even for those of us who didn’t attend WM. When any of their teams played, the Black community would be out in full force. Even as a kid, my father would take me to the football games on Friday night. Those cold-ass Friday nights in Goosport.
And I couldn’t wait. Continue reading “M-V-P…M-V-P”
When was America ever great for Blacks?
The question begs some serious review of our history in America in light of the political view and slogan of the current president and the Republican-controlled Congress. The presumption of “making America great again” is that there was a period of greatness followed by a subsequent fall from grace. This narrative of this “cult-like” following have the majority of Blacks in America asking, “where were we during this time of greatness?” Let’s see if we can pinpoint the exact time of greatness: Continue reading “Make America Great…Again?”
I swear I get the best inspiration from Facebook comments.
A guy who worked under my charge in the Marine Corps was at it again yesterday. As a matter of fact, from here on out, I’ll contradictorily refer to him as – Buddy. I posted an article about supporting Black businesses and the fella had a meltdown. In real time. With each passing statement, Buddy made sure to put on public display his lack of knowledge and inability to comprehend the simplest of concepts as if ignorance coupled with being unread were a badge of honor. The tragedy of his crash and burn was Shakespearean in a theatrical sense, only because his slow demise was of his own doing. The nobility associated with characters such as Hamlet, Julius Caesar, or Macbeth would have to be omitted.
He might not appreciate being compared to Othello, either.
I know of another noble comparison that’s right down his alley.
“Many years ago there lived an emperor who loved beautiful new clothes…,” so the story begins. Continue reading “An Emperor, Shakespeare, and Forrest Gump Walk Into a Bar…”
I was going to respond to a post on the ‘book yesterday but I didn’t. Considering there was a good chance it would lead to frustration (but also not wanting to spill this opportunity in the comments section), I decided against it. Instead, I chose to write in depth about it in hopes that the reader would learn something new by examining this short discourse.
The title of the article I was reading earlier in the day and posted on my timeline was in reference to an 18-year-old white woman by the name of Breana Rachelle Harmon: “Woman Who Lied to Police About 3 Black Men Raping and Kidnapping Her Faces Zero Years in Prison.”
A fellow Marine with whom I served replied to the post saying, “She needs to go to prison for however [long a sentence] those men would have [received].” While I can fully understand his view, I can also say with a large degree of certainty that, from a historical context in America’s not-so-far-removed past, he was only thinking on the surface by solely mentioning a prison sentence. And understandably so. Conversely, when I heard of Harmon’s lie, my mind immediately recalled that in times past (and present, truth be told) the sentence for Black men being accused of raping a white woman was death by lynching.
The reaction to Harmon’s story is typical of how whites are treated in a white supremacist society. Continue reading “Just a White Lie, That’s All”
It’s going to happen again, fam. Another innocent Black person will be murdered by the police. We bear the scars of a nation that has proven itself to be the antithesis of justice and has given us no reason to believe it will change anytime soon. Handcuffed by a system and a government that refuses to do anything that will alter the outcome of innocent Black lives being taken by so-called law enforcement, I write. By choice, yes, but in large part by necessity.
We’ve heard it all before:
- Do what the cops tell you and you won’t get hurt. Lie #1.
- Keep your hands where they can see them. That’s a lie, too. Just ask Charles Kinsey.
- Don’t make any sudden movements. FOH. Even when we’re still, we’ve been shot. So what’s the right thing to do?
“Fuck the right thing. If black, shoot them.” These were the exact words last month from an assistant police chief in Kentucky while discussing a training scenario with a recruit. Continue reading ““If Black, Shoot Them””
We knew that from the jump.
You knew it, too.
He’s made it unmistakably clear in the past and continues to do so. If you support the infamous remarks he made yesterday and still claim he is not a racist, you can kiss my melanated ass there is nothing you can say that will make me take you seriously. Ever again.
There are times when eloquence should prevail; rational thinking take the forefront; responsibility lead the way. A prestigious office should produce a prestigious leader. That is not who (or what) is residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue; however, you continue to support him and make excuses for his childish and irresponsible ramblings. It makes me question you, your values, and your social intellect in relation to grasping the reality in which we live. Continue reading “Your President is a Racist”
The year was 2014. Sounds of J. Cole permeated the light, yet crisp morning air, performing an impromptu duet with the melodious crooning of a bird sitting outside of my window. It was a welcomed change from the bellowing of cadence and the blaring of reveille; a soundtrack beautiful in its own unique way, for it solidified the fact that I was here in the present; the absolute; the now. But there was another change for which I was longing – one that no amount of music could provide. I was leaving America. For good.
I was retired now. Traveling as a United States Marine for a portion of my 20 years of military service proved to be a learning experience for me and a great influence to pursue a life outside of the norm. If I chose not to limit my mind, my mind would reciprocate the favor to me in the form of cultural as well as intellectual gratification. Continue reading “In Medius Res”