Social Media Content Control or No New Sharecropping, No, No, No

Social media content control, as well as curation, can be a difficult process. Once we have comfortably programmed our favorite phone application to remember our screen names and passwords, we tend to forget that we are providing content in a means similar to sharecropping. Now, for Black African Americans familiar with US sharecropping, this metaphor might seem a bit of a stretch. Like with most things US, economic, and Black, the story is much more hostile, violent, and inhumane than the story outside of the United States. In the same way that slavery in Brazil or England tends to read much less brutal than in the United States, so does the practice of sharecropping tend to read much more fair in other places.

 

To keep things neat and tidy here, the essence of the analogy of Twitter user to Twitter as tenant farmer to landlord, is producer/worker to owner. As of the date of this writing, the Owl’s Asylum account on Twitter is suspended. That means, I do not have the ability to delete, republish, or respond to any of the one hundred thousand plus pieces of content I have provided Twitter the company with. I do not have access to the one-hundred and twenty shy of six thousand followers I have accumulated over the past four or so years. I have no control over any of the writings stored on the servers that house the content of Twitter. As a result of this relationship, Twitter severing ties with Asylum has lost me half to one-third of my organic traffic to Asylum. Those are not good numbers. But, I blame Owl for this.

 

I do not blame myself for Twitter suspending my account. If I had a guest post on Asylum that generated five thousand or more users to interact with it daily, like say, this post, and I was discomforted by the writer of that post, I would not pull the post. But, I am Owl, not the owners and developers of Twitter, and they have their own rules to abide by. My point of accountability lies in developing a stronger content model on the apparatus of someone else, than on my own.

 

I have worked incessantly to establish the brand Owl’s Asylum, Owl, and Asylum under the same principles of “poor righteous teacher” that I live by. In being one that is capable of forging radical ideas and developing ingenious tactics to deploy said ideas, I am upset that I have spent so much time in one channel that I do not own. As the person that developed Owl’s Asylum, the only space online for Black people to examine media, entertainment, culture, and Black African American history from the perspective of someone that has seen prison, homelessness, and university, I am upset with myself. As the person that developed Owl’s Asylum, a space for thinking Black people to gain insights into the messages being communicated to them so they can better think for themselves as opposed to allowing others to think for them, yes, damn it, I am extremely salty with Owl.

 

I write for the Thinking Person. People who read Owl’s Asylum are people that like to ask questions and do not like when their emotional drawstrings are pulled. This especially when those emotional drawstrings are also doubling as their purse strings. When most online content providers were “dumbing down” their content, I was looking for a bigger thesaurus, a more unabridged dictionary, and more abstractions to apply to the everyday struggle. I should have known better, as stated here, I am a “Digital Hustler”, and that implies something I hate admitting I overlooked. Social media is a great opportunity to meet new people, but unless you are paying the server fees, I cannot advise you providing content on these sites as if you are.

 

According to eMarketer predictions, Twitter will reach an ad revenue generated evaluation of one billion dollars by the year 2014. That is ad revenues generated primarily(53%) through mobile devices. Let me ask a series of questions here:

 

How many people do you know logging into Twitter to read ads, “promoted content”?

 

Of those that you know that definitely do not log on to Twitter dot com to read “promoted content”, how many log on to read the content provided by others?

 

Of that group of people that log on to read the content provided by others, how many of the people they log on to read are getting any percentage points of revenue directly from Twitter the corporation?

 

Now, that is sharecropping the United States of America way. Twitter was not even willing to provide Owl and his Asylum a reason as to why the account was suspended. I had to search engine my way to an understanding of why my followers were asking about my whereabouts. I came across this piece on the topic, and this article, then this one, and this one, and then this one. After reviewing the consistencies across a few other channels, I still do not know why Twitter suspended my account. Nor do I feel compelled to fight to have access to provide a company with free content that they are receiving a projected one billion dollars in ad revenues from. Like the Digital Hustler, I am, I am willing to chalk this lack of social media content control to the game, and keep moving.

 

A few months back I was reading an article posted by Sonia Simone. The article was posted on highly recognized CopyBlogger dot com. The title of the article is “The Most Dangerous Threat to Your Online Marketing Efforts”, and she discusses the concept of “digital sharecropping” and the lack of social media content control, in a slightly different tone than I am(I mean, come, come, now…who in all of the interwebs writes anything with the same tone or perspective as Owl?), but providing much of the same essence. She opens the composition of caution with this story I am reproducing here:

 

We have a great bookstore in my town — the kind of place you picture in your mind when you think of a great independent bookshop.

 

It’s perfect for browsing, with lots of comfy chairs to relax in. The books are displayed enticingly. There’s a little coffee shop so you can relax with an espresso. They get your favorite writers to come in for readings, so there’s always a sense of event and excitement.

 

They do everything right, and they have always had plenty of customers.

 

But they still closed their doors last year.

 

No, not for the reasons you might think. It wasn’t Amazon that killed them, or the proliferation of free content on the web, or the crappy economy.

 

They closed the store because they were leasing their big, comfortable building … and when that lease ran out, their landlord tripled the rent.

 

Literally overnight, their business model quit working. Revenues simply wouldn’t exceed costs. A decision made by another party, one they had no control over, took a wonderful business and destroyed it.

 

And that’s precisely what you risk every day you make your business completely dependent on another company.

 

It might be Facebook. It might be eBay. It might be Google.

 

The analogy here is precise. Simone also provides tactics and strategies that I have implemented over the years, so, in closing I will add my own “also do” list here:

 

1:: Along with owning your own domain name and paying for your own hosting, continue to add the link to your site to all digital exchanges and content. You should be typing- or having automated- the words “Read more here…” until you earl.

 

2:: With an increased linking of your content, also back up all of your social media exchanges that might work as stand-alone content on your site, or just writings you wish to keep. For Asylum, I use ThinkUp and it plugs right into your online database, giving you absolute control over what is stored and when.

 

3:: The last tactic I am going to leave here is create a ratio that demands you to have more content on your own site than on any other. It is not wise to have more images of your product or service on Pinterest or Instagram than you have on your purchased domain, and regularly billed site. You are paying a recurring bill, act like it.

The Cake Is Baked By @KolaBoof

As a Sudanese-born American-raised bestselling author who has been vaginally infibulated since birth, my rage regarding the infamous “Genital Mutilation Art Cake” is like a Hydra with many splintered heads and has scarcely been addressed by anyone in America asked to write about this issue.

The Infamous “Genital Mutilation Art Cake”

My Twitter friend @OwlsAsylum asked me to put my feelings in writing for his blog where I can be as open as I like…so I warn you now…that what I have to say is not going to be what you’re used to reading in Black American publications or even White-ran African ones.

Before I talk about what it’s like to actually live with a ‘cut vagina’ and my conflicting feelings around the whole controversy, let me quickly rehash what happened to cause this brouhaha—a Male Mixed Race Swede artist named Makode Linde (the term ‘mixed race Swede’ being shorthand for White to those of us who come from Africa) engaged in performance art in which he depicted the image of a Charcoal-skinned woman served up at a party as a living edible cake. The party, hosted by Sweden’s Minister of Culture Lena Adelsoln Liljeroth, was supposed to raise awareness about the issue of Genital Cutting in Africa. Honoring the artist’s own claims—his intention was to show how racist White people are by having the mostly White partygoers cut up and eat the genitals of the moaning, screaming Charcoal Woman. With glee, the Whites did exactly that. I’m laughing my ass off remembering it (the video)—but inside, I’m calling ‘Camel Shit’ on the artist’s supposed intent.

Let me ask those who see this as art right now. If it was Makode Linde’s intention to make the world ‘see’ how racist we are by eating the genitals of the moaning cake—then why not make the cake look like a real African girl? An older woman with big bare tits wouldn’t be having this genital cutting experience—a small child would. Certainly, I have no problem with the charcoal skin (what East Africans refer to as “Biblical Days Black”—the color of our original Cushitic mother). But it seems racially methodical to present this African image in a sexually Western stance (the large bare breasts stand at attention unnaturally; not fall to the side despite the fact she that she is lying supine—typical Western pornographic imagery that came in vogue when more than 30 million White women in 18 nations received fake silicone breast implants). Linde’s caricature is definitely not a small defenseless child receiving initiation rites in Africa. As well, notice the frighteningly garish mouth—savage teeth, swollen red lips—the stereotypical Western racist cartoon image that plagues waving Sambo figures on White doorsteps in the Southern U.S. and other grotesque Massa-Welcome images traditionally found comical by those who deny Black humanity.

Why was dreadlock-wearing Linde so insensitive to how his ‘African woman’ looked? My belief is that he never expected video of the party to reach the entire planet. He thought the ‘feel-good racist imagery’ would create a bonding experience between his lonely Biracial shell and the Superior Swedes he’s most likely sought acceptance and solidarity from all his life. Like so many new age Racists of Color, Makode Linde thought this display and all reaction to it would be confined to the upper class and their few ethnic puppets—kept in town, like most of his other art works.

Following the controversy, Linde stated, “I didn’t intend for anyone to feel embarrassed. But we’re talking about female genital mutilation—is there any comfortable or cozy way to talk about it?”

Yes there is—let me do so right now.

I was vaginally infibulated in Omdurman, Sudan soon after my birth. Infibulation in my region of Africa in 1969 meant that the muscles inside the vagina were cut loose and reconfigured ‘tighter’ (supposedly to incur ‘purity’ as the Mullahs claimed that the Koran states: “Woman is Impure”). After the tightening process, the vagina is stitched shut—you grow up having your period through a straw—which can take some women an entire month. On the outer lips of the vagina, seared in Arabic, they put the name of your father and his mosque on the left side—the right side of my vagina was left blank for the name of my future husband to be seared on with a hot poker later. My clitoris was not removed, because my birth mother was an Oromo, not a Muslim and wouldn’t allow what Arab Muslims call ‘the worm of unclean thoughts’ to be cut away. Thus I cannot speak on the horror of having no feeling, no clitoris. But protocol follows that years after this ritual—at your wedding ceremony, the groom is given a small razor. This is to slit you open so he can begin penetrating you on the ‘wedding bed’—a process that can take weeks.

I escaped the Arab Muslim wedding, because my parents were murdered in front of me at the age of six and my Egyptian grandmother handed me over to UNICEF (to be ‘left for adoption’ after she got permission from the Mullahs—adopting being illegal in Egypt) because she could not fathom having a chocolate colored granddaughter in her White Arabic family. Through UNICEF, I was eventually placed with a Black American family in Washington D.C. and did not learn that I was vaginally infibulated until my Black American mother gave me a bath the first time I arrived in America. She and my new Black American father rushed me to D.C. General Hospital that night, horrified at the stitching between my thighs.

My life is not typical of the African girl who has been circumcised or infibulated. I grew up Americanized. My Black American parents wanted to have my vagina “corrected” at 16—but I refused because it was the only thing that connected me to my birth mother. Losing my virginity at 17 to my Black American tutor (who to me was White because of his egg-nog colored complexion) took an entire month. Imagine having your upper lip pulled up over your entire head—that’s how it feels for a ‘cut girl’ when she first has sex, you literally pass out. On one occasion in the back of his car, we got ‘stuck’ like dogs and had to be “wet” by fire hose to get us apart. It was so humiliating. Each attempt was excruciatingly painful for me, but like any teenaged girl I was determined to prove that I loved my man. Later, in my twenties traveling the world as a model and actress, I learned the value of having “pinhole pussy”—I could manipulate men with it. No matter how many of them I bedded, it appeared to each next guy that I was a virgin. And when men think they are the first and it’s even tighter when they return—they do a lot more for you. My vagina gave me all manner of problems—hormone imbalances; winter time shrinking. But because of my power over men sexually, I grew to take pride in my vagina. I refuse for instance to allow Westerners to tell me that I’m “mutilated.” I don’t accept that. I am different, but my life is not over, I am not defeated and I see myself as inconvenienced; violated—but not mutilated. With its shield face and Arabic writing, my vagina is very pretty to me.

Activists using the term “mutilation” forget that this is a Psychological condition, not just physical. We that are cut have to live our entire lives with our vagina. We have to move on and accept this horrible inconvenience and find joy in it.

I am now 42 and have given birth to two sons by cesarean—yet I am like a 12 year old down there. It does not change. This tightness that is created for male pleasure (no other reason, despite what the religious men say) is a never-ending curse of pain and ecstasy; sexual rapture bound up in brutally inhuman suffrage for the woman. I have learned to live with this—to even exploit it for my advantage. But I would not wish it on anyone. My vagina has been for men…and not for me!

So to watch a man—a man calling himself a ‘Black man’—lay on a table and holler moans that invited laughter as his friends cut chunks of his pink genitals away and at them—was so devastatingly powerful that it reduced me to loud, butchered sobbing. I couldn’t stop crying. Add to that the psychological effect of having to cope with the strangeness of Western reaction—particularly Black American friends defending this image and claiming that the intent of the art was to help girls like me.

Help us how? Who did it change? Who among the masses even understood what they were watching? It looked like a Halloween comedy show! Far and wide—people were laughing! No one watching that video thought of little African infants lying on the ground in rows between Cassava plants being cut on by dutiful old women. No one thought of that.

And that brings me to the most painful experience of the video, the one that came in the days after I watched out—the shutting out of my voice and of women like me by arrogant bougie African American writers and publications—writers and publications that would claim to speak ‘for us’ in delineating the experiences of African women and girls in public forums—yet slander my name and claim that I am “crazy” and shouldn’t be understood or have a voice.

This happened despite the fact that I am a well published author in America; a citizen of America; a Black African woman and a person who is vaginally infibulated. These Blacks at Ebony.Com, The Root and The Grio…the same ones who insisted that Makode Linde’s “voice,” however controversial, should be analyzed and understood on an intellectual basis…dismissed me, an infibulated African woman writer as someone there should be no time for—no understanding of. Herein lies the hateful core of not only Linde’s art piece, but the overall problem with Western Blacks—the innate hatred, distrust and lies they quickly attach to a Black female image when that female image threatens to Blacken them.

Certainly, because I am a noted author, published in eight countries—what I have to say will go into the canon of Black literary commentary whether people like it or not. So I say that these editorial staffs at Ebony.Com, The Grio, The Root and so many other so called Black publications are ‘pretentious,’ ‘privileged’, ‘vain’ and ‘wrongheaded.’ They want to visit Africa like a grave. You dare not be in the room. There is nothing journalistically scientific or factual about their methods when they say that Makode Linde should exist and be heard, but not Kola Boof. This is what Linde’s cake represents no matter where a Black woman goes. Routinely, you hear these American Negroes say when discussing me, “She is crazy”….but not a single one will counter “Why is she crazy?”

They don’t even acknowledge the moaning cake.

I have slapped Amiri Baraka for repeatedly calling me a bitch at the Harlem Book Fair. While heckling me on stage, he also stated that I was a “CIA Agent” and…”really a man.” A year before that incident, my books were banned by Black American bookseller Eso Won—the top black bookstore in Los Angeles. I never had a single ‘run-in’ or altercation with anyone in or near that book shop ever. No explanation was given—my publisher was simply informed that my books and I were banned from their Afrocentric shelves.

After discovering that 12 other Black women writers are banned from Eso Won bookstore, including Pulitzer nominee Wanda Coleman—I felt something akin to Linde’s Sara Baartman cake. The perpetual cutting, mentally as well as physically, is worldwide for Black women.

One local Black radio talk show host befriended me and had a different take. He said that I am despised by Black Literati for being ‘too truthful’ in my speaking style, for focusing quite forcefully on dark skinned Black women’s issues and for refusing to accept America’s one drop rule and see Mixed Race people as “black.” This last one in particular angers them he said, because so many of the leading Black movers and shakers in publishing are mixed race blacks or Black men with White spouses and mixed offspring. Years even before that, however, I was lied on by Black American scholars that I’ve never met, as high up and influential as Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Cornel West—granted I can’t stand them and they probably knew that from reading my books. But the thing is, why would intellectual Afro-descended people be so afraid of the rising career of a Black African woman? I hadn’t slapped their friend Amiri yet. I hadn’t done anything but be an African Womanist artist.

And then there’s smaller fish like Dr. Goddess, Deesha Philyaw, Dan Billin, Dominique DiPrima, Arab-funded ESPAC reporters and so many others who gossiped incessantly behind my back and made one nefarious claim about me after the other—all without ever having met me. These are supposed to be smart Negroes and Arabs of high importance.

In the canon of Black history, they have the delusion that I am an unimportant ‘folksy’ figure (shocking and vulgar they say) who will one day disappear while they (cloaked in white collars, college degrees and visits to Harris-Perry’s Nerdland) will go on to be remembered as intelligent, fearless, Black-loving auteurs of what they called ‘the African Diaspora.’ Something more organic to them than me, mind you—because Whites owned them and they now think with the same arrogant self-importance of the White Tower. What could I, the dirty ground possibly have to say? This is very sad indeed as this is a virtual re-enactment of Zora Neale Hurston and the Niggerati of the 1930’s. And yes, as a writing talent and a critical thinker, I am comparing myself to Zora, most definitely.

One has to sigh and fan oneself, because naturally, I’m not innocent in this mess. From the beginning, I’ve been a complete bitch to anyone that dismissed my reality or my right to have a voice. I gave it right back to them with all the pent up relish of my life long suffering. But how dare an African mother come here and do that! We’re Black and we want our place in the White people’s great society—but she, our own mother, is not one of us!

Makode Linde personified more than anything the modern Black conscious when he fashioned that cake. And I promise you—the Cake Is Baked. Linde is not alone in that tar-black butchered bitch fantasy, which is why so many Blacks are defending him. Whether it be our own black sons on the radio calling us “Bitches and Hoes” or proclaiming in their latest works of art: “I don’t date Dark butts—why did my baby come out so Black—White women are better”—the Cake Is Baked. The men’s yellow icing drips down the side of our much-despised nappy heads like a golden blond weave. If we protest, we are called ‘angry…bitter.’

The violent-voiced male rapper is not a threat to the community. Barking like a dog is his right by virtue of testicles. Pathetic Nicki Minaj draped in Barbie Doll drag while referring to little black girls as ‘nappyhead hoes’ in more than two of her songs is not a threat to the community. But we, the moaning burnt cakes with savage teeth and thick red lips—our sliced up fudge-inducing pussies threaten the Black community’s Mulatto follies—their niggerstock delusions of a bright future. As I wrote in a book once: ‘The Black Woman is the most unprotected, unloved woman on earth…she is the only woman on earth…that grows unwatered.’ In America, where they believe (or want to believe)…that that Bitch in New York Harbor is their real mother…it sticks to their fingers like frosted truth. Since none of us in the Black community plan on staying black—we don’t have time to care about Black women. So of course the bougie Negro journalists must consider Makode Linde’s brand of art—he’s their sanctioned portrait maker!

The Propaganda Of Privilege

“The fundamental concept in social science is Power, in the same sense that Energy is the fundamental concept in physics…The laws of social dynamics are laws which can only be stated in terms of power”(Russell, 1938, p. 10)

There is a belief that everyone under the oppression of privileged people are also privileged. And yet, all nations are tornados with leadership living comfortably as the eye of hypermasculinity playing with weapons of Life destruction. It can appease empathy deficient beings to believe having a cell phone while homeless is a treat of some sort, but children in Sudan are carrying Ak-47’s like PlaySkool brought out a line called, “My First Automatic Weapon”, and passed it out to little tikes. Interesting trade-off or just a fair observation? Or maybe I should have replaced PlaySkool with CIA?

Anywho…

Power is divided in such a way that it can automatically create classes. We sort one another like dry science into nomenclature labeled jars based on how we obtain resources, where we are most influential, and how much influence and resources we have. Our children react to the impact of what we call a star by imitating them and often comparing the status of their parents to that of those they see or hear via media. As it has been documented, litte Afkan boys and girls tend to see them Selves in the light of media imagery that favors lighter human beings over darker human beings.

In much of this discussion, we couple class with notions of money, yet privilege is a seduction of fear. The privilege of US soldiers to barge into any country under the auspice of whatever moral dilemma being sold through media injections while much of domestic voting populace can’t afford their homes is a direct result of their capability to induce fear world wide. That is the privilege. The capturing and psychological wiring of millions of inhabitants of the Western shores of Afrika is the privilege of Anglo America. Part of defending the ideology of privilege is to make the underprivileged think that some how they are secure from harm or of a greater importance than other members of the underprivileged society. Any sort of “privilege” here is solely illusory and bound by systemic, or institutional, customs to be directed any way Anglo-American power brokers or their flunkies need it to go. When the underprivileged babies need to be used for governmental schemes, separate the child from the family; when the men need to be used for labor, separate them from the family. All privilege stems from the system because the system is what provides what we define as privilege.

Since globally there is a system of privilege created and controlled by Anglo Westerners, any privilege is to support functioning of their state of affairs. Obama can be president because Afkans will support a culturally Anglo-American person with a Kenyan bloodline, especially with privileged Anglo-American credentials. He is not an Afkan, and his US roots are of a Euro-American. His election benefits the privileged system because it justifies it and legitimizes it in the minds of the underprivileged. Since no election is purely of people’s choice, it begs to be asked which privileged parties made selections. It is not the idea of conspiracy–although it would be foolish to think that a country formed from a conspiracy wouldn’t continually have capable conspirers at its helm– it is simply that people with power will act according to that which will allow for maintainance. Yet, status, even in the position of POTUS, is only a definition of percieved attributes and the respect given from such attributions. It can be said that Barrack holds the office of President of the United States, and that would be accurate, yet his status as a half-Kenyan man in a society that deflects privilege from people of darker hues has a bearing on his status rendered from his position as the president. His position is only respected in regards to a power structure that is against him. A sort of math takes place here where the Bush family can use the position to wage personal wars, and yet Obama can’t rally for a colleaugue of his alma mater without being embarrassed by having to apologize to a person light years beneath his stature.

That last sentence is not a nod to elitism. Barrack Obama is in the position of head of the Executive Branch, the branch that commands the military, not just in foreign terroritory, but in domestic US as well. Where police officers can murder a sleeping child and the complaints regarding the case are deflected because of fear from having to organize against the police. Anglo vigilantes can murder Afkan consumers walking in the streets and not face swift punishment for the crime. Underprivileged academics and activist are swayed to fold under the pressure of a propaganda that informs that they must act within a morality that doesn’t exist for the privileged. Police officers barge into a man’s home because he is Afkan living in a residential area of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and that man is arrested because he justifiaby is outraged with the police officer and has to respect that Anglo police officers can make rash errors and demand an apology. Not only demand an apology from the aggrieved home owner, but also demand one from the aggreived home owner’s friend in high places when that friend is the POTUS and asked about his friend. That is privilege. There is no morality being exercised here, in fact, it could be easily settled that there is also no crumble of civility here either.

As I have written in Asylum elsewhere, you simply cannot have privilege in this society if you are other than Euro-American. Even a rich Afkan is either a tool or an enemy of the state. The dominant religions of this society have all factored in an Anglo authority as God, whether Christianity or Islam. This means that not only are we killed or reduced to minions no matter if we are the head of the state, we also perceive the privileged as deserving of the privilege as well as being morally correct. Aiyana Jones gets shot on camera and the response is to overlook her killer who is an Anglo or Euro-American authority figure and attack Afkan gang bangers whom we can use the police to capture, just hope not too many of our other children have to be slaughtered like livestock in the process. That is privilege. There is no privilege in being an Afkan male when you can’t walk down the street sipping your cold tea and not expect to get shot simply for being Afkan. As there can be no electricity in a building not connected to a source that provides that electricity, there can be no privilege in a social situation where that privilege is withheld. Any beliefs to the contrary are simply propaganda directed to confuse and misguide the underprivileged.

My Response To Porgy and Bess On Broadway(2012)

Editor’s note: Before we delve into this piece, would like to take the time to thank Nikki for such an eventful weekend in New York City. Asylum will always be indebted and I’m sure I would have never been exposed to much of what I have been if it had not been for your extended loyalty and commitment to our family.

 

 

An understanding must always be undertaken when discussing figures of history: I’m discussing what has happened and was recorded of a person. Often, in Afkan discussion, we mistake what we have heard of a person from source 1082 and not what we may have actually witnessed for our Selves or known of someone from primary accounting methods. I never met Dubose Heyward, I may have liked him. I never knew Malcolm X, may have disliked him. So, in my efforts to write critiques regarding historical figures, I attempt to be objective for the sake of my ignorance, and subjective with regard to my complete knowledge of Self. That is not saying I have complete knowledge of Self, for my Self is a dynamic, subject to change; I am, however, referring to those elements that have remained core components that I can be sure of in as much as I’m sure the Sun will remain in a fixed enough position for the Earth to round about its axis.

 

A part of this Self, I speak of and know of is my need to bond with those of my Afkan heritage. The romantic element of any nation, tribe, religion, any grouping of humans, is exactly that which that unit’s cohesive agent is. We are all bound by emotional strands, physical ecological realities, or we are not at the same time. Logic allows for a cold, or objectifying treatment of life, yet it doesn’t remove the fact that all of life is living and that all of the living are dependent or interconnected in some way. It is the romantic ideology that compels the will to act in a manner suitable for sacrifice and commitments that cold logic cannot always clone. The cowardly can be logical; the cowardly cannot always be faithful to the trust of those that need them to be in the face of ominous circumstance. When the braves of a people are limited and must resort to the employ of cowards to do that which even the brave flounder, it takes an emotional appeal that extends into the imagination, not the analytic recesses. In this regard, it is always necessary to know what every imagination, what every creation, and thus what every artist and creator, has in their mind and what is the response to these creations on the collective mind. It must be remembered that the phrase “Uncle Tom” originated not in the sphere of objective reality, but in the imaginations of a White woman for a white male audience. Yet, how often do we hear White males using the phrase colloquially? How often do we hear or read Afkan peoples using it?

 

Now, in mentioning all of that, what are you preparing us for, eh? I don’t mind White writers writing whatever they choose; I just don’t wish to allow it to pass without a critical eye for symbols and messages that are born of the taints of White privilege born of European global domination that allows Whites to continuously feel comfortable crafting pieces about Afkan of all eras and periods. Media images have defined movements and cultural behaviors since the written word appeared, and it should be the effort of any Black(Afkan) media analyst to regard all works composed by other than Afkan about Afkan to be held as propaganda that could spark mass gas chambers to be filled. If I am to be applauded for critiquing the works of Tyler Perry or even Aaron McGruder, I shall not be of the type of rat’s bastard spawn, filled with insecurity of my own culture and skin, that I can’t critically assess those that helped to forge the stereotypes and shallow witticisms that plague the works of the aforementioned.

 

 

I tend to hold this view especially when applying my sword and monocle to period pieces. Especially period pieces written by Southern Whites born during the late 1800s (any hundreds really, but those really get the McNulty treatment). Such a piece is Dubose Heyward’s Porgy, which is the book that became the play that became the operetta, that became the wonderful and entertaining Broadway production my sister from another sex act entirely treated me and Brie to the past weekend. The production of the Broadway performance was superb in execution. David Alan Grier’s “Sportin’ Life” was vivid and captured the essence of the trickster beyond even the work it Self through his use of obvious stage contraptions that were not actual props(i.e., his constant leaning on stage scaffolding, a device that lesser skilled talents might abuse to the detriment of a convincing performance). The colorful clothing arrangements complemented the rich vocal assortment, which, like that blending of cast costumes, cascaded in a harmonizing that captured you from the opening act to the last. It truly was an event to behold. An experience worthy of all that vibratory magnetism that surrounds much of Broadway, and those works which come to represent it in real time.

 

Porgy and Bess, the Broadway musical, is the story of a crap game gone bad when a local drunken dope fiend, Crown, loses and kills the fader, Robbins. Without telling too much of the plot, although you should expect spoilers, Porgy, a crippled beggar gives the drunken dope fiend’s lady, Bess, a place to hide after she turns down the offers of the local dope dealer, “Sportin’ Life”. And although the production is awfully compelling, I couldn’t resist the urges of my analytic process when watching a musical rendition of a crap game of Afkan gentle folks acted in front of me in a sea of predominantly White ticket buyers. I immediately thought of Ice Cube’s “What They Hittin’ Foe?”(Amerikkka’s Most Wanted(1991)) and other Hip hop mentionables that have often gone under fire by the same class of Afkan that will most likely be defending the White Heyward and Jewish Gershwin. As an Afkan (Black) media analyst, it is has become an almost impossible task for me not to question the motives of why a particular cultural artifact, whether well meaning or not, actual or just practical for storytelling purposes, was used. This is especially the case for productions with cultural Afkan overtones and predominantly Afkan casts. I have a right to question anyone outside of the Afkan experience, I don’t care if your mother sucked fifty Afkan penises in the back of her father’s car while she grew up in an Afkan neighborhood; all Afkan can’t tell the Afkan story, why should it be so easy for those other than Afkan to do it?

 

 

It often needs to be thought about, who trained Afkan film writers, other Afkan film writers, or other than Afkan film writers? Was it not other than Afkan peoples that had their hands on the development of film first? Did the Afkan somehow fund a movie production to teach other than Afkan people how to write for film and film going audiences before other than Afkan people wrote for film and all other than Afkan audiences? Have I somehow confused you here? Do you need to read this all over? Please, I’ll wait right here…

 

Where did the mammy caricature originate? Although the depiction of women of an imaginary small Gullah village named, Catfish Row — symbolized in the Broadway performance by nine (my numerologists readers should have a field day with this play given its use of complete and incomplete notions {the play starts with a child’s birth} used throughout the scripting) planks of wood holding up the wooden set where the thespians performed– these women are very much styled as the mammy. In fact, all of the Afkan women in the play would easily fit into that type with the exception of Bess, played by a very alluring and just damn fine Audra McDonald, whose type is the whore, the loose and easily accessible licentious dark woman, or Jezebel/Sapphire, a caricature often associated with Afkan women. The male characters, although slightly more robust, still capture elements of the slave narratives as sold to European American audiences. We have the Buck exemplified by the drunken Crown. This savage rapist image that allowed for Ku Klux Klan memberships to swell, oh wait, that could have possibly allowed(yes, I’m moving my right hand closed around an open circular space in a jerking up and down motion), after the release of D.W. Griffith’s ‘Birth of a Nation’. Although the trickster image appears heavily in Gullah and Yoruba lore, in the character of Sportin’ Life it takes on the elements of “slickster”, not buffoonish in any manner, but the sophisticated fast talking caricature spoken of in J.A. Rodger’s “From Superman to Man”.

 

 

I do not in any right feel the need to be “fair” to a writer’s work who has direct descendants that not only owned slaves but apparently lived pretty well-off because of them, so I’ll write this out rightly, the women are shown as the unifying force of the story, very much like the mammy caricature is shown as the leader of the Afkan people. Whether objective reality supports this or not, and whether I support this or not, this is the continued message throughout the piece. We see a much respected Porgy being chastised by the women who will not give him his cane as a means of keeping him immobile to convince him towards their thinking. It is also the women that alienate Bess and instruct her not to seek Porgy for a rest haven. It is also the women that embrace her and invite her to the community picnic held on the island where she is left to be raped by Crown (a rape scene on the stage was very impacting given the level of groping by the actor Phillip Boykin). I was happy to see a media production where an Afkan man is seeking to not only commit to an Afkan woman, but also to defend her, sure. I’m also pleased to have seen a performance whereby a group of Afkan women that are married to Afkan men come together to defend an Afkan man. I’m also pleased to point out a production that points to the historical reality of the Gullah. I do believe I’ve been kind enough to this child of Afkan slave torturers.

 

It should noted here that Heyward wrote Porgy based on an actual Afkan that was considered to be a criminal. As an informally trained White writer whose family had fallen from grace after the Emancipation Proclamation and subsequent fall of the South, Heyward had been persuaded to write a piece about Afkans that would allow him to compete with the more sophisticate White writers in the community of writers that he belonged to. As stated before, I probably would have really liked this guy. But, I have to ask, if Heyward were an Afkan understanding how powerful imagery works in writing as well as how imagery transcends cultures, would he have gone with an Afkan story of a criminal and whore? It is a compelling story. Porgy and Bess is much more intricate than its critics have allowed it, and much more complex than Gershwin’s adaptation, replete with inconsistency after inconsistency, frames it. I do agree with Langston Hughes, Heyward was able to do what most of his White counterparts crafting the Afkan experience elegantly and poignantly. However, I still must wonder if he were forced by conscientious responsibility to pick a storyline, would it have been that of a crippled beggar forced to defend an Afkan drug addict from her murderous and rapist lover? Porgy, and its variation, Porgy and Bess, is an ugly tale. It is a very dark piece. Heyward’s ethnicity and his family’s background only makes the piece more dark for me.

 

Certain questions ought to be raised. Why is it when an Afkan portrays Afkan women as needy, drug addicted, and weaker than enamel dentures soaking in lemon juice, they are attacked for being born Tyler Perry? Yet, those descriptions were written with Porgy and Bess in mind. Has it become a part of our culture that only White Jewish males are allowed to go unquestioned with depictions of Afkan (Afrikan Amerikkkan) women in roles stereotypical or demeaning? Had Tyler Perry been the director of “Color Purple” instead of Steven Spielberg, would we have demanded the lynching party we usually rally together behind films that display women in no different manner than the Jewish film maker? We laugh when White women attempt to exhibit our styles, yet we let a White Jewish man tell us how our “Girlfriends” should act?

 

I don’t mind anyone doing whatever with media. I do have a problem when I can’t ask questions in the same country “Birth of a Nation” and “Colors” were filmed. I know what impact images can have on the lives of individuals and thus communities. Afkan pretend to endure for the sake of artistic value, and yet, the Anti-Defamation League would have their balls deep down Tyler Perry’s esophagus if he crossed the same lines we allow his Jewish counterparts to cross since the early 1900s in media. I am appreciative of classic works such as Porgy and Bess. I thought the imagery of an Afkan community coming together against White terrorism in the form of brutal and draconian police detectives was refreshing. But White Jewish liberals have always had a soft spot when it comes to violence in their exploitation; ask an NAACP member. However, I would ask anyone reading this to consider whatever facts and accurate insights or perspectives I provide with this piece.

 

I also don’t have any extra fucks to give with those that might label me filiopietistic here. As known, I am an Afkan loyalist and my works aren’t of the academic type constructed by intellectual cowards hiding behind objectivity for the sake of grants, loans, tenure, or appearances on some news anchor or political pundit’s couch positioned just so precisely for camera purposes. Excuse my existentialism, but every human is at war, and every collective formed due to warlike circumstances either of environment, animal, or other human collectives. Good writers don’t toss words on pages and make classic literature no matter how much Western theories of evolution might suggest such goofy notions. A lot of thought goes into a masterpiece, and a lot of impact occurs with collected thought. My job is to ask the questions that you don’t when thinkers hope you aren’t.

 

As always, thanks for reading this…

Black Bloggers: Don’t Hate Your Own People While Writing About Santorum In The Hood

“Our interpretations are rooted in personal narratives about ourselves, and these narratives aren’t always so positive, as is the case with teenagers who feel like rebels without a cause, college students who are convinced they were admissions errors, and adults who always seem to assume the worst about their relationships.

 

…Cognitive-behavioral therapy(CBT). CBT assumes that maladaptive interpretations-negative thought patterns- are responsible for many mental health problems, and that the best way to treat those problems is to make people aware of their thought patterns and learn how to change them.

 

…story editing, which is a set of techniques designed to redirect people’s narratives about themselves and the social world in a way that leads to lasting changes in behavior.”
– “Redirect: The Surprising New Science of Psychological Change” by Timothy D. Wilson

 

During the events of this week, Rick Santorum, GOP presidential candidate, made a statement regarding Blacks and welfare. His statement:

 

“I don’t want to make Black people’s lives better, by giving them somebody else’s money.”

 

Now, this is blatantly racist, it has no place in civil politics, and any Black person that would support such racially polarizing and derogatory commentary is a threat to them Selves. Now, the neoliberal Black might mistake this as a time to bring out their anti-Black from the urban community zapper gun 12009 they received from Saint Nickelass. But alas, no, young neo-negroes, your time still has not come. It is not a time to rehash statistics about welfare rates of Blacks, Whites, and Mexicans. Why? That is exactly what the likes of a Santorum would like you to do. To focus attention on poor US citizens that are more than owed the assistance of their government as most of them probably served in the military. Even if they didn’t it matters not because every US citizens that loves to hurl the “I’m a tax paying citizen” mantra so loosely around like a pack of condoms at a swinger’s bash, is protected by young poor to lower middle class men and women that more than likely will never receive fair compensation. If you want to bandy about numbers, let’s talk about the financial rape of the young military veteran that serves their country and comes home to downtown apartments owned and operated by exploitative not-for profits forcing such a draconian demand on living arrangements that the veteran living in them gets treated like someone’s child just to move about in their own space. According to the National coalition for Homeless Veterans:

 

“Roughly 56 percent of all homeless veterans are African American or Hispanic, despite only accounting for 12.8 percent and 15.4 percent of the U.S. population respectively.

 

About 1.5 million other veterans, meanwhile, are considered at risk of homelessness due to poverty, lack of support networks, and dismal living conditions in overcrowded or substandard housing.

 

Although flawless counts are impossible to come by – the transient nature of homeless populations presents a major difficulty – the Departments of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) and Veterans Affairs (VA) estimate that over 67,000 veterans are homeless on any given night. Over the course of a year, approximately twice that many experience homelessness. Only eight percent of the general population can claim veteran status, but nearly one-fifth of the homeless population are veterans.”

 

One-fifth, ladies and gentlemen of Asylum. One of out five persons that you drive past on highway off ramps, turn your noses up at going to your 24 hour free Wi-Fi spots, brush past on your way to work, or otherwise treat worse than your common project building cockroach was shot at defending your precious way of living. One out of five of those persons you sit at your park bench and call “bums” has had to suffer some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of protecting you. Please read that again, and think twice about the fancy little choice phrases you offer that human being asking for a little change to get by, since you indeed might owe that person a whole lot more than some metal chips for the metal chips they may have caked in their joints and bone marrow.

 

But as gracious as we should be and as often as you should have already seen those statistics throughout the thorough and discerning writing of the Black blogosphere, these are still not the numbers we ought to be most concerned with. As Santorum attempts to blame Barack Obama for some national form of nepotism, he seems to forget how much money Obama agreed to give the likes of Bear Stearns, Lehman Brothers and AIG(source). Many of us have forgotten the recent passing of welfare to corporate entities such as the Troubled Asset Relief Program, which was backed by Barack Obama as a senator high footing it to DC to make sure he co-signed then President Bush. Yes, we are now discussing the over $80 billion dollars that Santorum has yet to discuss as he fixes his kangaroo cock massaging lips to blame Blacks, as should be expected by such White terroristic filth in a fancy suit.

 

Before the next Black blogger runs to go tell that, they should focus a tad bit more energy on the proper story, and not the story they have blaring in their head that causes them to in a short sighted manner, aim their keyboard’s electromagnetic rayguns at their own people and inadvertently backing the coward’s “gibberish”. Many Blacks unfortunately have yet to relieve them Selves of the cognitive psychological dysfunction that is self-hate. The immediate story and perspective taken in such instances as a White man pointing his worthless finger at the poor Black, is to compare your brothers and sisters to that of criminals. I can guarantee the Asylum that those writing about the comments of Santorum didn’t for one second wonder about the millions of US citizens that benefit from tax breaks because of their well protected money laundering to off shore banks and profiteering in lands where they are able to hire cheap labor; further robbing the true US citizens that have always made this country run: the poor Blacks.

 

No.

 

Our brothers and sisters across the interglobe decided that they would take this opportunity to further harass those Blacks that cooked and cleaned the homes of White women and White men that allowed for their children to gain college degrees. These writers decided, once again, to look towards the same White terrorist propaganda engines for their “solutions”. Once again, this virus, this mental atrophying with contagious shark teeth has projected its fear of all things White and all realities Strong and Afkan onto the media most capable of helping our children see past the detrimental storylines written in their DNA since the days of James K. Polk applauding “The Birth Of A Nation” while funding the Klan’s membership rise which would assist in the destruction of Black Wall Streets (there was more than just Tulsa, and no negro, I’m not talking about your precious Wall Street in New York, you flea…) nationwide.

Cultural Attenuation

Perspective is the child of cultural attenuation and resonating principles. Resonating principles are often a balance of media synthesis coupled with experiential osmosis. Cultural attenuation is the process by which a person imbibes the values, standards and practices of their culture, commits to memory the lessons passed down through oral tradition and then begins a routine of procedural steps that tend to weaken the spirit, or flow of mental energy being given to them. The stronger the resonating principles of influences not directed by the culture, or better said, the culture of those that have sacrificed the most for the well-being of the individual, and the perpetuation of the said culture through that individual, then more attenuated the cultural signal will become.This is not an argument to absolve the irresponsible or the selfish of their need to convince others to conform, however, conformity is a natural state. The question that should be dealt with is the degree to which humans are conforming to nature versus forces of influences commanded by manipulators. A simple statement? Indeed. And yet, how many of the slaves raped by European Americans, how many of the millions of Africans sold by their more resourceful counterparts, how many black males murdered by the discharge of police pistols do you think it would take to change the tide of conformity through manipulation? If the answer to that question alludes you, you are not alone.

A simple understanding of the degree to which many of us have been separated from nature is a question I ask people often when describing ailments. How much water are you drinking? How often are you eating, and what? How often are you exercising? Due to the template short-circuiting of many of my associates, the common answers are not answers to the questions I’ve raised. Those queried tend to respond with statements that suggest that they are drinking enough water, exercising enough, and the like. And yet, if I were a doctored practitioner of medicine attempting to create a funnel where the populaces income could be channeled into my banking account, I could develop all sorts of undocumented and unhealthy means to sell as solutions to ailments that are simply bodily imbalances. Oh, I’m incorrect? The water you intake is what prevents you from dehydrated. At 70% water necessity, the human body must become a capacitor along the circuitry of any water system. If you are suffering from simply gastric imbalances, forms of jaw locking, dry eyes, migraines that stem from dry eyes then why wouldn’t a suggestion to drink more water from an individual who has suffered all of this suffice? Cultural attenuation. Elijah Muhammad told the world to eat to live. Black community still suffers from the dietary habits of slavery.

What makes it so difficult for many Blacks to listen to other Blacks? Why is that there is so much ado about posturing in the black community? What is occurring where Blacks who are creating the most common forms of Black(US) speech are being attacked Ebonics promoters that are simply imitating the same media the white people are? Francis Cress Welsing discussed the atrocities that come with the alienated mind and yet the Black community still has yet to embrace every facet of its expression. For every polemic dispersed from the pen of Cheik Anta Diop came an opposing arguments from the very individuals that needed the psychological healing of well studied findings.

Lethal Weapon Faux Pas

I understand the culture that has built a certain wall around the term “nigga”. So, when I read that Mel Gibson threatens his former lover, Oksana Grigorieva, with the word “nigger”– as in “You look like a fucking pig in heat, and if you get raped by a pack of niggers, it will be your fault”— I am offended.

Regardless of what occurs inside the black community, if you are not black then your degree of disdain for blacks and stereotypical approach to dealing with people is questionable. There is a huge difference between a black person saying “nigga” and Mel Gibson saying,”nigger”. Huge difference.

I understand the discussion regarding American Blacks and certain unacceptable behavior patterns. When I hear Dead Prez say “nigga”, I understand what they are discussing. When Mel Gibson says,”nigger”, within a particular context, I understand what is being stated. Not that Mel Gibson is far from an intoxicated rant, but because the state of affairs between American Blacks and white americans is so strained. I can forgive Mel for his drunken disposition, but I can only alert my people to the fact that his statements are a reflection of the image that has been historically pressed into this society’s psyche regarding Black males.

Incidentally, 52% of all rapes in the US are perpetuated by white men.

We all have our faults, and we all should be corrected when at fault.

Vaccination: Q5

So I woke up this morning, got my vital signs checked, laid down for another hour, and got stuck in both arms…again. In some ways, I’m being extremely nice about this because it is a sister that is doing it, but I’ve definitely got to make sure she only sticks me in my right arm. After being poked for blood, I washed up and went into the room designated as the eating room for the lab rats volunteers(that never gets old). Upon entering the room, a discussion was in process that allowed me to immediately handle the disturbance of the night prior.

I used the Quentin Tarantino history of using the “n-word” in his movies as my starting point. Immediately, it was understood where I was going. It is never cool for a non-black person to ever use that word. I feel that it could have been left alone, but I do understand the need for communication and dialogue among members of opposite ethnicity when the time presents itself. And ultimately, it is cathartic to express your angst.

A couple of hours after that discussion, a few of us met up in the area we are calling the ‘sun room”. Our sleeping quarters don’t provide us any sunlight, and during the day this seems to be our grove of sorts. The sun comes down into our pores through a window on the roof, and the room itself is spacious enough for us to kick around a soccer ball. The conversation traveled light speed through various topics such as revolt versus revolution, anarchy, music as a form of communication, what it means to be a radical, and the criminal as an agent for change. Our critiques of society seemed to converge well. I felt that to be socially uncanny, Which can cause me a slight paranioa. As a media analyst, it is difficult for me to seperate the thought from where it originated, and I’m always asking myself if we think alike because we have been programmed alike.

I’ve been extremely social lately, and actually I’ve been in pretty much every major discussion that has occurred here. I don’t necessarily feel I’m representing for the American Black any more than I feel those who are caucasian are representing for their ethnicity or race. I do recognize the class differences, and the attitudes inherent in that particular consciousness. Those that think they are better tend to stick to themselves more. I could be wrong, but there is a pattern that I’m sure I’m not overanalyzing, or hypothesizing incorrectly.

I’ve learned a great deal about communal behavior, and true radical thought. Which is strange, because I didn’t expect I would learn much through my experience here. From what has been admitted, none of us really thought we’d be as social as we have been. Which is ironic, because we all sort of made sure to break the ice rather early in the study.It is no strange thing the beginning of the word “community” is shared by the word “communicate”. In so many ways that is all we really have. We play cards together, we read together, we eat together, we watch movies together, and none of this was by force, and none of it would have occurred if we weren’t interested in the furthering of the extended conversations we share. Total strangers that seem to share a common appreciation for knowledge, and a need for money, obviously, but definitely a respect for learning and living from that place of new thinking.

My vital signs have been terrific. My blood pressure is down, and I’ve even managed to lose a couple pounds. Still not feeling any of the symptoms of either bacteria strand. My more suspicious side is still looking for a camera in the air ducts and vents. Just not willing to accept it as is. But who knows.

A Slim Critique of Slim Thug’s Thoughts

It is funny how over time, the same specious arguments find a way to reinvent themselves. During the 1960s Black Power Movement a young white man with ambitions and a destination for a seat in congress constructed a report. It would be historically referred to under his name: the Moynihan Report. In this white man’s mind, the problem with the Negro Family was the inability of black men to outperform black women. His stance was that there would be great improvements in the Negro condition if it were more patterned after other patriarchal societies. From that statement, many of our great minds – Amiri Baraka and Eldridge Cleaver come to mind most – promoted a culture of black hyper masculinity that significantly placed black women as the enemy. With due respect to bell hooks and her viewpoints, Michele Wallace who wrote “Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman” presents to us one of the only firsthand accounts of how black men in SNCC, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee that spurned the leadership of Stokely Carmichael would joke about their offices being taken over by women, and how they would pass up the black women for white women. It is even telling that Eldridge Cleaver wrote of the black woman as the strong woman, yet dated a white woman. The stereotypes of that ear have extended themselves through the misogyny of rap music and media. And today, none other than the brilliant and scholarly Slim Thug voiced his opinion. And of course, because Slim Thug is such the sociologist and our champion of intellectual thought, we must consider his words.

LAUGHTER.

What a lot people don’t want to accept about the submissive woman is that she was made. During the early days of the white race, female babies were considered a threat to survival and they were buried alive. We see this same pattern of behavior in the Arab history. During the early days of the US, white women were hunted down in what has come down through history as the witch hunts. To be a white male aristocrat meant that you had to have a submissive female show piece. The ideal of the woman as the show piece has made it past all of the work of the women’s liberation movement somehow. Another tidbit of history that seems to escape most radars is the fact that women – and yes, your precious white women as well – had to work just as hard as the men during feudal Europe and during the beginnings of this country if they were not wealthy. The ideal of the submissive white woman still exists because of the media being controlled by the same sorts of men that conjured up the ideal. So why are black men still so easily mislead about these things?

During our struggle for human rights in this country, we forgot about true revolution and settled for an inkling of manhood. It was cool that we could just be considered cool. No, we don’t need any land to till, let’s just be recognized for having big dicks and athletic prowess. Who cares that we have no national independence? That people cross the street when we approach them? The fight for black self-determination became an acceptance of hyper masculinity as manhood. It is not strange that the brother Slim Thug would take on the imagery of the “thug” that has become the warped and sensationalized caricature of the black man as a warrior and survivor. It is not strange that the same term that Tupac used has been misshapen and misconstrued on so many levels. It was misconstrued before Tupac by those that raised him and protected his mother. There are very important points to consider in the pro however. In Slim Thug’s statements, there is an overall general problem we all need to consider. His anecdote of a friend that chastises him often because he dates a “submissive” white woman overshadows all that could be worthy of discussion. Furthermore, he insists that his woman’s more submissive side is because she is half white. His full statements found here.

I have no problem with interracial dating, although as I have stated in the past, a culture of interracial dating in a society controlled by white males could be dangerous if the American Black is truly set on being an ethnic designation. Simply put, if we are to all seek out white mates, then soon there will be fewer and fewer American black genetic phenotypical traits in the society. Whether this is of importance to you makes no difference; the reality is in the math. We also should take note that this division of family and division of black male and black female has taken on higher precedence in the media. We watch shows such as “Girlfriends” produced by a white Jew and watch a main character, a middle class black woman, settle on a white man, as her friends go through black male after black male. Now, we have a black male who is a representative of the hyper masculine black culture continuing this propaganda against black women.

It has been stated that history repeats itself. I truly hope not. From what I have read about being black in this country, my miniscule pains and trials are nothing compared to what the majority of American blacks once endured. I hope that we all can read more of our history and understand the precise indoctrinations that have extended them to us through time. If we are to overcome anything on a level beyond symbolism, we must consider the origin of many of our thoughts. The paradigm is worthy of change.

Money, Sex, Male Aggression & More Raped Sisters

So much goes through my mind…

Personally, I’m getting tired of writing about negative events that occur in the Black Community. I might start writing about family reunions and barbeques. This constant pouring over of heinous acts and just savage behavior can’t be good for my rehabilitation. Where is superpresident when you need him…?

Alright.

You know the question was raised about the culture of males. For me that would immediately mean American Black males, but the stories abound in all communities. And although many of the crimes involve women and girls as suspects and perpetrators, the acts all stem from the male culture of hyper masculinity and oversexualization. The headers all read similarly:

Bloods gang members went to Brooklyn schools to recruit underage girls as hookers: prosecutors

Agents Swarm Newburgh in Raid Against Gangs

In Newburgh, Gangs and Violence Reign

27 Arrested In Apartment Complex Where 7-Year-Old Was Gang Raped

Aiyana Jones, 7-Year-Old Shot And Killed By Detroit Police, Was Sleeping According To Family

Although the circumstances of each is different, what we are seeing is a pattern of gang related, or collective male demonstrations of violence and rape that stigmatize the community. The stigma helps to legitimize the historical culture of police brutality. As a media analyst, it is difficult for me not to point to the prominent images of black males as superniggers and black girls and women as ultra-sexual objects.

The historical portrayal of Black women in American culture and media has always been that of the sex toy. Regardless of figures such as Sojourner Truth, Ida B. Wells, Angela Davis, Assata Shakur, and even Oprah Winfrey, the media continues to present us with Halle Berry’s and “Superheads”. The idea that women are “eye candy” and for the most part just gyrating bodies, “bitches and hoes”, has promoted a culture that deems the rape of a seven year old by a suspected 5 males ranging from ages 13 to 20 as acceptable.

If I may be so allowed to step outside of the objective, and ask, “How does a seven-year young child ever look sexually appealing to a 13 year young, let alone a 17 year young?” The forcible rapes should be punished by death squads, and deep in my heart I believe so should the touching. There is something sick and twisted about the whole idea that causes me to tremble inside. At what point does this all become acceptable behavior? The savagery of group behavior is well studied and documented, but the degree of pure immorality haunts me.

In the same vein, you have young boys and girls, some above the age we tend to regard one another as adults, recruiting young girls for prostitution. I remember watching Steve Cokley ask his audience would the women there be willing to have sex with someone for the revolution. If I were a women in that room, my immediate response would have been, “Nigga would you?” It seems to be a mentality even within the ranks of women that the female body is simply a sexual tool. For the American Black woman that is infinitely truer as her history in the US has always forced her to be at the disposal of male aggression. Even in R & B, which once placed the American Black woman on a pedestal, we see Usher with Niki Minaj soliciting a woman for multiple partner sex. Obviously pimping ain’t dead, as the ring of gang members beat and forced high school age girls to ”get out there and make that money”. Brutalizing those that were tired or hadn’t met a daily quota of $500. Money and sex, male aggression and more raped black sisters. The US just doesn’t change.

The degree of inhumane behavior only gives more and more credence to military style police involvement. After the rape of the seven-year old, the apartment complex was raided. Reports say that the arrests involved mostly women with minor infractions being yelled at and asked, “What happened to the little girl?” In what was reported to be the attempted arrest of a 34-year young accused of slaying JeRean Blake, half his age, a home was raided in a military fashion. That particular incidence of bloodshed led to the flash grenading of a residential home and the subsequent murder of Aiyana Jones by the police. The police and FBI are seen here “gathered at a former National Guard armory to prepare for a raid of more than 36 homes”. The pattern is quite clear.

From the destruction and terror of the communities of Negro Wall Street, to the destruction and terror of the communities within the MOVE organization, to the legitimized destruction and terror of black communities nationwide. From the caricature of the Buck, to the portrayal of the Black male as Buck in movies such as “The Birth of A Nation”, to the media portrayal of the black militant movements of the sixties, to the release of “Colors” and the advent of the “Gangster rapper” to the “gangster” rapists and pimps. From criminalization to criminal. From slave patroller to military style invasion legitimized by the behavior promoted through so many channels.

How long will the nigga gene be acceptable? We’ve already reached a class breach where many in the middle class are too far removed from the slayings and the raping to understand the need for more education, more investors in the community, more jobs, and more vehicles for the expression of masculinity to be based upon. A sadistic and criminal culture of capitalism will only create a sicker, more sadistic culture of capitalism where capitalism has failed to be a viable system of economy and thought. As long as boys feel inadequate being intellectuals without having to play the role of the “thug” or “pimp” or “player”, then the “thugs”, the “pimps” and “players” are not going anywhere. Apart of human behavior is the desire to procreate, and that drive dictates a behavior that will allow boys growing into men, to be selected by women. If the women aren’t truly happy with what they see in the community of males, choose more wisely. Stop feeding the culture the attention it needs to breed. Or watch more and more young girls being victimized. Watch more and more young boys find themselves dead or incarcerated until death.

Men have to be better role models. The “do or die” culture comes from the “ride or die” culture of the black power movement. The need for approval, the need for acceptance based on aggression has got to be worked on. Black people really are blessed that the suicidal culture stops at killing others before killing oneself. The minute that changes, a whole new problem will be bred. We are too hard. So hard that just being hard is acceptable. The male susceptibility to attention from the opposite gender has gone from niggas with attitude to niggas with their pants hanging off their butts. We are capable of altering and defining masculinity in ways that don’t have to boil over into sexual aggression. That doesn’t boil over into massive homicides. That doesn’t boil over into our homes destroying children’s lives. Sure, you need a defensive and capable manhood, but don’t let the superficial dictate. Marcus Garvey asked where are your men of industry, not where are your pimps, and dope dealers and brothers that want to look like a pimp and drive around dressed like a dope dealer. Not men with professional jobs who use the vernacular of the dope dealer and wish to act like the pimp, while turning their noses up at the real pimps and dope dealers. Stop being so comfortable with just being a nigga.

The massive bloodshed and pure lack of human life was the Black story as written by White America. Time for a new author…