BLAXPLANATION

Come Hither..

2009-11-13T20:03:00.003-06:00

Peace All,

The Afromamba and I have built a new spot and we'd VERY much like for you all to check it out. It's a blog about relationships and everything that goes into them. Please pay us a visit and let us know what you think.

http://nakedadmonition.wordpress.com/

Worse Than The Worst Thing You've Ever Seen

2009-07-02T13:56:00.007-05:00

"Turl-bull." -Charles Barkley

I know it’s been a long time, and I doubt that I still have enough equity with anyone who used to visit this blog to ask a favor, but I need you to do something for me. Think of the absolute worst movie you’ve ever seen in your life. Envision it. Do your best to bring that stinking, steaming pile of crap to life in your mind’s eye. Picture the terrible scene transitions, the awkward dialogue and the gratuitous explosions. Think of the pointlessness of the entire project. Can you see it? Good. Now imagine, if you can, a movie that makes that look like Citizen Kane. That movie has a name: Vegas Vampires. Vegas Vampires is so indescribably awful that everyone involved (yes, that includes you Tiny Lister as well as Danny Baldwin and that one cat from Onyx) should be visited in the middle of the night by some sort of biblical plague. There is a bottom, my friends, and Fred Williamson has found it and attempted to share it with the world.

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: Those of you who watch movies ironically, simply because they are epically bad, might have to cast "Plan 9 from Outer Space" aside and make room for a new champion. I'm not kidding.

Random Observances of Astonishing Stupidity

2008-12-12T17:00:00.016-06:00

Let's get right to it:

We live in a world where rabid, undisguised ambition is consistently rewarded over intelligence and morality. We are reminded of this every time we interact with supervisors who should be employed to shovel shit in eight to ten hour shifts instead of serving as obstacles to our workplace betterment. This isn't news to any of us. But on occasion, the inanity of those in positions of power becomes so painfully apparent that it gives pause to even the most cynical. The most recent, well-publicized example of this is the freshly arrested Governor of Illinois. Those of you who've been paying attention have already been given all sorts of exhaustive descriptions of Rod Blagojevich's brazen stupidity, so I'll spare you my two cents. I will say, though, that it is entirely possible that after we've all reached the bottom of this swamp, we won't have learned anything that we don't know already. The overwhelming majority of our leaders and bosses are both exceedingly dumb and unflinchingly corrupt.
I, like many others, saw this coming. In spite of the abysmal failures of Richard Wagoner, Robert Nardelli and Alan Mulally, the unions are taking the rap for the failure of American auto companies. Yesterday, Republicans shot down an eleventh hour bailout attempt because Republicans are insisting that the Big Three provide a time table for the virtual dismantling of union contracts. There's always a silver lining in every cloud and the Right is viewing this entire auto collapse as a way to defang unions once and for all. It's almost amusing. I don't remember them asking for so much as a handjob when they were shoveling out billions of dollars to banks.
I read a great deal. I've lived in and/or visited almost every state in the Union. I've traveled a bit. I've interacted with many different people from all walks of life. I'd like to think that I've pretty much heard it all. Today, though, I heard a woman utter a sentence that I've never heard anyone else say in my life. She said, "I hate water." I should point out that she wasn't talking about Joyce's snot-green, scrotum-tightening sea. She was referring to drinking water. I was dumbfounded - not so much by the fact that a human being can gin up a hatred of a the benign, life-lengthening substance that is at the center of our existence, but by the fact that she didn't see anything strange about it.
Last night, I had the distinct displeasure of watching the Celtics pound the listless, inept Washington Wizards. This is probably the fifth or sixth NBA game I've watched this season. I can now say unequivocally that I agree with Charles Barkley when he says that there is some bad basketball being played out there. This is frustrating. Not only because I love basketball but also because I have to remind myself that these bastards are being paid millions of dollars to throw bricks at the hoop, commit turnovers and give up early in the second quarter. Although I believe now that Michael Jordan is an unrepentant coon, I have to give him credit for never failing to give me my money's worth.
Speaking of which, who's more foolish? A fool or a person who pays a fool 20 million plus dollars a year to stay home? Say what you want about Mr. Marbury but he sure as hell knows how to make out in a recession.

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: OK. Obviously the November Project ran off of the rails. There's little excuse for it save for the fact that I felt piqued at the end of November. I didn't get to imbibe on Thanksgiving, by the way (in response to a few of you who attributed my non-posting to a long-standing hangover). Sometimes failure is just failure. I, unlike Chrysler, am taking full responsibility for my collapse.

Day Twenty Six: Libations

2008-11-26T17:30:00.010-06:00

These don't look like depressants to me.

Is it a bad sign that I'm looking more forward to drinking alcohol (in particular, a slew of delicious white Russians) on Thanksgiving than I am to eating?

It's been a rough year and I fully intend to tie one on tomorrow without guilt or fear of repercussions. Here's hoping you all enjoy your "holiday" as much as I will mine.

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: Drink responsibly (as I, despite all suggestion to the contrary, intend to).

Day Twenty Five: Alms For the Well-To-Do

2008-11-25T20:37:00.011-06:00

Some people at my job just don't seem to get it.

Or maybe I just don't get them. Perhaps that's it. It's just that they regularly, casually do things that I would never consider doing. Often, they even plan to do these things.

For example, a woman who works a couple of cubicles down from me started a monetary collection for a birthday gift for one of the directors. She suggested that everyone donate $20 so that we could present this director with a gift certificate for an overpriced massage package at one of her favorite spas. Needless to say, I had ALL kinds of problems with this.

Problem #1: Twenty dollars is a whole hell of a lot to ask of each person. You don't ask a group of people to contribute that much money per person unless you're collecting for a rent party.

Problem #2: I'm broke.

Problem #3: Even if I weren't broke, I can't imagine a scenario in which I would willfully part with a hard-earned $20 bill so that a woman who makes over three times my salary (and who, in my eyes, is primarily responsible for my being broke) can go get a glorified backrub.

Problem #4: The same chick who happily went around on the gimme for her boss routinely gives her other coworkers jack shit for their birthdays.

Problem #5: Not to be petty but I recall that my own glorious birthday, The Ides of July, came and went without my receiving so much as a Hallmark.

Problem #6: I'm not especially fond of this director. I guess I don't hate her. But if she were to somehow miraculou..um..spontaneously combust and I was holding a big ol' glass of water, I don't know that I wouldn't quench my thirst before I decided to douse the flames with whatever was left over.

Problem #7: As you may have already figured out, I'm fundamentally opposed to giving money to those who already have more than I. This is the opposite of charity, which I imagine might correctly be identified as stupidity.

Surprisingly, of the small group of employees who were solicited (about twelve of us) nine people ponied up the cash. I was not among them. At any rate, the Asskissing Nine, as I've come to call them, presented the director with a $180.00 gift certificate to the spa of her choice. I'm told that the director was appreciative, and has promised to feel genuinely sorry for them when she has to lay them off in about two months.

Day Twenty Four: So It's Come To This

2008-11-24T17:53:00.010-06:00

The Object of My Disaffection: Pictured Here, No Doubt Wondering What That Noise is Between Her Ears

This shit has officially gone too far.

Would someone care to explain this to me? Why, when I do a Wikipedia search for "African-Americans," does a page appear with Harriet Tubman and Beyonce placed side by side? I'm beginning to believe the Birthday Girl now when she says that Beyonce is one of the harbingers of the Apocalypse.

And since this can't be my fault, I blame all of you people who have inexplicably propped this dummy and her divisive, airheaded songs up for the last few years. Shame on you for not realizing that your mindless fandom has its consequences.

Day Twenty Three: Turkey Pardoning

2008-11-23T21:09:00.011-06:00

Somehow I have a feeling that this man will be unjustly left off of the list

Sarah Palin's latest embarrassing episode - obliviously answering questions during a turkey pardoning while turkeys are violently meeting their maker - reminds me that we're close to the Pardoning Sweepstakes. At the end of every presidency, the exiting incumbent releases a slew of well-connected rakes from their well-earned sentences. This, the ability of the President of the United States to pardon convicted criminals with impunity, is, perhaps, one the most overlooked Presidential powers. Before he left office, Bill Clinton went a little apeshit, pardoning 140 people including his ne'er do well half-brother.

The following noteworthy felons have received Executive clemency for their misdeeds:

Richard Nixon - This crook was pardoned by Gerald Ford, apparently to help a nation heal. At least that's the official reason that was given. My belief is that this pardon was granted so that men in power would not bring their entire self-perpetuating system of political inequality into question. But I guess I'm just cynical like that.
Caspar Weinberger - Pardoned by Bush the First. I was with my uncle when this happened. When the news broke, I remember him almost choking on his Baby Ruth and asking no one in particular, "Ain't that a bitch?"
Elliot Abrams -Another Bushman. He and Weinberger were the most visible members of the Iran-Contra scandal.
Marc Rich - A Bill Clinton Special. Rich (by no means a misnomer) was a brazen tax evader and oil runner. He was no fool, however, and he also contributed mightily to the Clintons and the Democratic party.
Mark Felt and Edward Miller - Pardoned by Nixon. Deep throats, deep pockets and strong ties to right wing power.
George Steinbrenner - Pardoned by Reagan. Loved by Nixon. The owner of my beloved Yankees was indicted on 14 criminal counts in 1974. I'm sure his countless donations to the Nixon campaign had little to do with his clemency.
Edgar and Vonna Jo Gregory - Pardoned by Clinton. These pardons were literally bought and paid for in the form of $107,000 worth of unpaid loans to the one and only Hillary Rodham Clinton. But I'm sure Magic Johnson knew nothing of that when he campaigned for her.
Jimmy Hoffa - Pardoned by Nixon. If he had any idea what was in store for him, he would probably have preferred to stay in the pen.

Next up? Among others, one Lewis Libby. Just as sure as I'm typing this sentence, Scooter will scoot by way of a Bush the Second pardon. And the wheel just keeps on spinnin.' Here's a thought: If both of them are still alive in 2016, maybe we can convince Obama to pardon Mumia.

Day Twenty Two: Self-Esteem Blvd.

2008-11-22T18:04:00.013-06:00

Folks Need More Than Just Dead Heroes

Local Hispanic community activists in Arlington, TX are attempting to get four streets renamed after several Latino icons. Not very long ago, a similar attempt was shot down in Dallas due to lack of support and resistance from the usual suspects.

I'm not sure what to say about this. I guess I can see why some folks feel that this is important. Since this country's inception, white Americans have patted themselves on the backs by naming everything - from streets to cities to mountains - after their forebears. I also can see how this has implanted a tremendous sense of accomplishment, and entitlement, in those white folks who've been paying attention. This should work for minorities as well, right?

The short answer is, "Not Really." Successful moves to rename streets after Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X all over the country haven't exactly led to the widespread ethnic self-awareness and black empowerment that backers had envisioned. On the contrary, it's become a long-running joke that those streets that are named after our black civil rights leaders are often the most dangerous and violent in the city. The same is true of the Cesar Chavez Drives that are somewhat common to Western and Southwestern American cities.

To some degree, I hope that the Arlington agitators are effective, and convince Arlington's white officials to rename a few of the city's streets. But I don't think I'm being terribly cynical by suggesting that it won't make a great deal of difference to all the Hispanic cats who need jobs, better education and fuller opportunities. It's almost as if minorities are so caught up in trying to be accepted by the dominant culture that we aren't focusing on the real issues. People should know by now that symbolism doesn't trump substance.

Day Twenty One: Message to Jason

2008-11-21T20:13:00.019-06:00

Sancho Panza's Got Some Advice For You

A Green Party candidate will never win a meaningful election.

That's not all. The Greens, and other progressive groups, will never have a significant impact on the feckless centrists that now refer to themselves as Democrats. I appreciate your maintaining your True Believer status, especially as we get older and so many of our peers have begun slouching toward middle of the road, doing-what-I-gotta-do-for-my-family apathy. But there comes a time when we have to grow up and face the facts. I'm certainly not suggesting that you abandon all of your progressive ideals, I just think now would be a good time to start aligning them with the hard-to-swallow realities with which we're currently faced:

Reality #1: Most of us aren't concerned about anything that doesn't affect our own, personal, easily identified bottom line. As a result, we don't care that the Earth is dying, or that every cancer is a homicide, or that wealth is continuously being concentrated into fewer and fewer hands. As long as we can have our televisions, and our SUVs and our fast food, and our unfettered access to instant gratification, we're good.

Reality #2: Most of the "progressives" that I know are misanthropic. Further, they tend to believe that people, in general, are stupid. This is one of the primary reasons why the momentum of the progressive movement is not unlike that of a beached whale. Conservatives learned a long time ago that the majority of us don't want to be reminded that we don't know much about the world. Hence, conservatives wage successful mass appeals, often to the lowest common denominator. Progressives are too busy being disdainful of the great unwashed to come up with creative ways to win us over.

Reality #3: White progressives still have a problem with race. This is because they're just as oblivious and arrogant as white conservatives.

So, my friend, instead of continuing to joust at political windmills, I think it's time for you to adopt a more pragmatic approach. The Greens and other leftist political groups aren't the answer now, nor were they ever. Perhaps you need to consider changing your mind about the way things are before you go about changing the world.

Day Twenty: Death of a Bellwether

2008-11-20T21:13:00.007-06:00

Ground Zeroes

I was hoping for this.

As we all know, on the night of November 4th, Barack Hussein Obama (I've taken to including his middle name just to incense anti-Middle Eastern bigots) thoroughly thrashed the fossil that passed for his Republican challenger to become the President-elect of the United States (insert applause here). Remarkably, and unlike the previous two presidential elections, the race was over in relatively short order - Barack easily beat his opponent and was announced the winner just prior to eleven o'clock Eastern time. What we didn't find out, at least not until yesterday, was which candidate with which Missouri chose to throw in it's lot.

Apparently, Missouri is a McCain state. For me, this is great news because I grew tired of hearing how Missouri had voted for the winning candidate in every election except one for the past century. This inconvenient truth tended to give rural Missourians (who pretty much guide the state's vote) a little too much credence. Based on what little I know, Dems typically get St. Louis, KC and a few other clear-thinking counties, and the rest of the state goes to the GOP.

The Missouri situation neatly encapsulates what generally happens in the rest of the country as well, with urban areas usually supporting the left and rural and suburban areas going right. That's why right wing pundits can laud the good sense and down home decency of "middle America" (ALWAYS code that is exclusively reserved for white folks) and be critical and dismissive of America's snobbish "latte drinking" cities (which are heavily populated by minorities).

Observers from near and far have noticed for many years that Missouri has been a remarkable indicator of the direction in which the country will go with regard to picking the President. Political scientists struggled to provide an explanation for the phenomenon but failed to reach a consensus. Given that Missouri had become a solidly red state over the past few election cycles, GOP mouth pieces, of course, had all of the answers. Missouri was, according to them, a snapshot of the "real" America. It represented the conservative values of Richard Nixon's and Ronald Reagan's Silent Majority.

Well, as Sergeant Waters said, "Not No More." Apparently, America wasn't listening. This time around the Show Me State blew it. I couldn't be happier because, as a black person, I never felt that Missouri's red voters spoke with my voice. This election marked a point at which black folks' desires and voting patterns were not subjugated in favor of rural interests. No longer is an entire nation made to suffer because rednecks and hillbillies who don't know any better can't quite get it right. Indeed, as Missouri goes, so too go the dummies who voted to make the same mistake not one, not two, but three elections in a row. It's time for the inmates to hand back the keys to the asylum.

Day Nineteen: Training Day

2008-11-19T18:21:00.005-06:00

"I'm not listening to a word this man is saying."

Peace,

I don't really have time to submit a proper post today. I'll be in training for the rest of the week and, on Friday, I have to take a test to prove to my supervisor that the money that she authorized to be spent on me was worth it.

BUT...I do have some good news. I have an interview Friday morning with a director who's interested in helping me get out of my current department before the layoffs hit. I'll keep you updated.

Day Eighteen: Bailing Out Buffoons

2008-11-18T20:50:00.007-06:00

One space for me. One space for my asshole.

Today as I was making my approximately 47 minute commute home from work - most of which was spent crawling at 19 miles per hour behind a Cadillac Escalade - it occurred to me that I don't necessarily feel that it's fair to pay for the US auto industry's mistakes.

Of course, by now, anyone with access to a radio or television should be familiar with all of the arguments supporting an economic bailout for the "Big Three." According to economic experts, "Higher car prices, the end of incentives and vehicle shortages could occur if GM and other Big Three automakers don't get bailout.." I understand this and also realize the human toll - an estimated loss of 2.5 million jobs by those who are paid directly or indirectly by a robust auto industry. But, like many others, I also see a great deal of stupidity linked to the current situation in Detroit.

For years now, the Big Three have ignored calls to discontinue their love affair with the tacky, gluttonous, gas-guzzling SUVs and big dumb trucks that currently clog up American roadways. In the 1980s and 90s, US automakers were concerned primarily with manufacturing cars (remember them?) Since the late 90s, however, they've been more and more obsessed with hoisting inefficient behemoths upon the American public. In fact, in 2006, 70 to 75% of Ford's production was SUVs and trucks. Anyone with half a brain could have seen that this couldn't sustain itself. High gasoline prices are and will be the death knell of the SUV culture. But instead of gradually weaning us off of these monsters, the Big Three greedily squeezed as much blood from the stone as they could.

Further, American cars have had a justifiably bad reputation for decades now. I don't know about you but I certainly don't buy American-made automobiles, and when my faithful, gently-used Camry finally gives up on me, I intend to replace with with another Toyota Camry. Foreign, specifically Japanese, automakers have been running circles around American brands with regard to dependability and owner loyalty since the mid 80s. If one thinks of a lemon, one almost invariably thinks of an American car. Instead of choosing to address this head on, and making cars that matter, the Big Three, in their self-satisfied conceit, continued to churn out an inferior product. They figured that Americans wouldn't choose foreign products over their own. They were wrong.

Many critics are blaming unions for this mess. They feel that auto companies have been capitulating to unreasonable union demands over the years, leading to complacency and bloated contracts. While this may help explain why the Big Three can't dramatically cut production costs, it doesn't explain why such shitty ideas and products keep rolling down from the top. Unions aren't responsible for the creative and productive missteps that Ford, Chrysler and GM have taken for the last decade. This is more of an issue of poor management than it is of union bullying.

So here we sit. On the verge of a depression. Stuck between the almost equally terrible decisions to bail out the imbecilic US auto companies or to allow them to collapse under the weight of their own horrible judgment. My feeling is that no matter the decision, we're all going to end up getting the raw end of the deal. Given the current state of the economy, and my own precarious employment, I find it somewhat ironic that these thoughts came to mind during a commute that I might no longer have to take.

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: We - the American consumer - are to blame as well. I read recently that with gas prices on the decline, sales for SUVs and trucks are back on the rise. We've learned nothing, and part of me believes that we deserve what we're going to get.

Day Seventeen: Bad Moon Rising

2008-11-17T19:25:00.007-06:00

"I asked for a day off. Not a lay off."

It's never a good sign when your boss feels the need to pull you aside and convince you that neither you nor your coworkers are in danger of being laid off.

Yesterday, my supervisor did just that. Why she singled me out I don't know. Perhaps she's mistaken me for the office gossip. What I do know is that the day before yesterday, the entire HR staff was told, at a Thanksgiving luncheon, that a person was being brought in to help us improve our processes and that this person was an expert in "organizational restructuring." This news, which, I guess took the place of some sort of company grace was followed up quickly with, "Alright. Let's eat!"

As you might imagine, everyone began worrying about their jobs. I, for one, saw signs of this happening. Our company has about five thousand employees with an HR staff of approximately 70. Frankly, our function is begging to be streamlined. I've actually mentioned this to a few of my coworkers in the past.

So now comes the wait. The hatchetman that they're bringing in starts the second week of December. Predictably, everyone is nervous. I imagine it'll be sort of like the movie Office Space, when the efficiency experts show up and meet with everyone to have them explain what they do with their time. Too bad my name's not Michael Bolton.

By the way, I'm still trying to locate a Human Resources law mandating that an employee has to endure a morning commute and work a full day before he or she gets fired. I, like many, would rather be terminated via telephone, from the comfort of my own home.

Day Sixteen: Southern Hospitality

2008-11-16T17:30:00.009-06:00

White Dems: Here's What They Think of You

When I first began this blog I wrote critically of James Taranto and his Wall Street Journal op-ed page. I haven't really paid any attention since then but, while perusing the refuse that passes for Taranto's commentary, I spotted this:

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution's Jim Galloway calls attention to an NAACP press release alleging 'acts of intimidation and retaliation' rising out of the election of President-elect Barack Obama:

-African-American parents are reporting that their kids-from elementary to high school-are being verball and physically harassed by their white classmates while their teacher turn the other way.

-Teachers and principals have told student that they cannot in any way discuss President-elect Obama and the election or they face disciplinary action, even though prior to Nov. 4, teacher held regular class discussions on the upcoming election..

-Both African-American students and employees are reporting that they're receiving all kinds of slights, cold shoulders, and uncomfortable stares from their white classmates and colleagues.

Slights, cold shoulders and uncomfortable stares! Oh, the humanity!

Leave it to white right-wingers (try to say that three times in a row) to be completely dismissive of black concerns, and of their own cruelty. Of course, if their kids are in any way inconvenienced by school administrators, teachers or students, look out! But when our kids are catching hell based on their skin color, it's a non-issue.

Yet, there's always something worth salvaging from hate. I've always argued that white contempt can be used as a learning experience. People, this world, this country, can be ugly, particularly when white folks feel slighted. The negative, widespread, Obama-victory-related experiences of African-Americans should remind us all that the color line is still an issue for many. My feeling is that black parents ought not to be celebrating Barack's victory so much that they neglect to prepare their children and themselves for white animosity. Our kids need to know what's in store for them, black Pres or not. Leading up to November fourth, one of the things that I kept telling friends and family is, in the event of Obama winning the election, a whole lot of white folks are going to run back to their only source of comfort: white supremacy.

In spite of the fact that Barack is only one man, I believe that a whole lot of white Americans, particularly those in the undereducated South, are looking at this in much the same way that they viewed Reconstruction. Many of these whites are frightened. They can't believe what just happened. They assumed that white guilt hadn't reached the point at which a black person could actually make it to the White House. I was listening to the radio the day after the election and the local public radio station was interviewing disappointed McCain supporters. To hear them, you would think that Satan had won. One man actually said that he was "afraid for my country." Another woman said that we were headed for a socialist society. They said everything but what they meant, which was, "I can't believe a nigger is going to be the President of the United States."

And those of you who might remind me that if not for white voters, Obama wouldn't have won anything, ought to keep in mind that these same white voters aren't about to receive my congratulations for doing something that they should have done a long time ago. Suddenly white folks want to receive credit for voting in favor of their own self-interest. Voting for the reform candidate when the incumbent party has spent the last eight years flushing the country down the toilet is the least that you can do - and is certainly not tantamount to challenging the bigots among you.

Day Fifteen: Message to Dewey

2008-11-15T21:58:00.016-06:00

The Subdivision that Fear Built

Per our earlier conversation: An influx of black folks into a predominately white neighborhood doesn't bring down property value. White flight precipitated by racist paranoia brings down property value. I just thought you should know. What I find interesting is that white flighters tend to get fed up with commuting, and return to gentrify the very same neighborhoods from which their parents fled a generation or two ago. I guess urban blacks and Latinos just don't know how good they have it.

Day Fourteen: Book Review - The God Delusion

2008-11-14T21:26:00.009-06:00

"Am I the only one seeing this shit?"

I just finished having an extremely frustrating conversation with a "free thinking" friend of mine. We were having an argument about religion and, to my surprise and his, I found myself in the position of defending the faithful. Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while should be familiar with my thoughts about organized religion and its various and sundry practitioners. Although I'm no Bill Maher, (who spits in the faces of the pious every opportunity he gets) I am also, by no means, a proponent of blind faith. However, to be honest, I normally grow weary of those who share my irreligiosity. More often than not, these folks, like my buddy, are the kind of angry, virulent atheists that delight in intentionally offending people of faith. That's really not my bag. I prefer not to engage in that kind of unremorseful douche-baggery.

Our conversation brought to mind a book that I read some time ago. Since I've been meaning to get around to including book reviews on this blog, I figured now was as good a time any to provide a very quick and dirty review of Richard Dawkin's The God Delusion.

In his latest book, The God Delusion, (which could reasonably have been subtitled F_ck God and the Idiots Who Believe He Exists) world-renowned British evolutionary biologist, author and enthusiastic atheist Richard Dawkins traces the arc of religious-oriented aggression – from the Crusades to 9/11 – and determines that all religious belief, no matter how personal, is both delusional and perilous.

Dawkins begins by circling the wagons around atheism. In four "consciousness-raising" declarations, he defends non-belief as evidence of a healthy, intelligent and independent mind. Had he chosen to stay on this path The God Delusion may have been a welcome addition to the socio-religious debate. But Dawkins’ coherent defense of atheism quickly devolves into a slanderous rant – one that indicts both religious moderates and dogged fundamentalists alike.

The tragedy in this book lies in its rigidity. Dawkins laments the fact that Southern slave-owners used religion to justify their pro-slavery position, but refuses to acknowledge that enslaved African-Americans and abolitionists used religion to bolster their arguments against human bondage (most African-Americans, as a point of fact, continue to find strength in religion today.) Indeed, Dawkins’ rejection of religion as anything but a tool of oppression or opiate of the masses is the major irredeemable flaw of the book. It is not enough that Richard Dawkins is himself an atheist. He wants everyone else to be one too. Dawkins comes across as intolerant and unyielding – an absolutism that is usually the terrain of the very zealots whom he derides.

Day Thirteen: Grand Opening/Grand Closing

2008-11-13T20:20:00.014-06:00

"Don't look in the window, Honey. It only encourages them."

Peace to One and All:

I apologize for the negative, cryptic tone of yesterday's post. The "doldrums" to which I referred was simply a metaphor for my running out of steam with regard to my posting. The November Project has taken a great deal out of me. Speaking of which, a very special thanks goes out to LadySol.

An area, black-owned business from which I purchased my vast array of fly Kangols recently closed it's doors for good. This bothered me. What disturbed me even more, though, was the fact that I was only slightly surprised by this turn of events. When it comes to African-American owned operations, I've almost come to expect premature closures. Many of us who have patronized our favorite black businesses have been disappointed to learn that, for one reason or another, they were calling it quits. Often, it comes as much of a surprise to the owner as it does to the customer. This phenomenon got me to wondering why such should be the case. Black folks, weaned as we are on consumerism and deprivation, are just as desirous of separating ourselves from our hard-earned cash as anyone else. So why do the places that pop up in our neighborhoods struggle? I've come up with a few reasons.

First, I believe that integration has a great deal to do with it. Black businesses did infinitely better when white businesses didn't cater to us (not that they do now, but at least white store operators allow us to use the same restrooms as their white customers these days). Once integration became the law of the land, black folks couldn't wait to pay for the merchandise that Jim Crow had denied us. This consumer migration sent black-owned stores in predominately black neighborhoods into a permanent tailspin from which they still haven't recovered.

Second, the loss of the black middle class dollar left only those businesses that were able to serve needs that white stores couldn't. These days (and, frankly, I don't know this to be true though I suspect so), a black business owner it is more likely to run a salon or a barbershop than a tax firm. There are still some services that black people only trust other black people to provide, and taxes ain't one of them. This leads to a glut of businesses that provide the same function, which, in turn, produces a situation in which one black business cannibalizes another.

Another reason I believe many black businesses fail is their owners' over-reliance on the idea of black self-patronization. Often, African-American business owners are motivated not only by the spirit of capitalism but by the idea that they are serving their communities' needs. They feel that black folks will support them in their endeavors in part because of the pride that comes from buying from our own. When it comes to the free market however, buyers are motivated by a different desire: to pay less for more. Black businesses, restricted as they are by limited capital and a desire to keep overhead as low as possible, aren't able to compete with pricing bottom dwellers like Walmart. Cash-strapped buyers, no matter their race, are much more likely to buy a $10 DVD from a white-owned retail leviathan than a $20 DVD from DeAndre.

Finally - and I know that we are not alone in this - some people who wish to own their own business simply shouldn't. I can't count on one finger the number of people who've expressed a desire to run a business but have asked themselves whether or not they have the fortitude to do so. Running a business successfully means sacraficing, putting the customer first, succesfully managing employees, having a finance background, being able to create a business model and breathe life into it, putting one's trust into the right people, and acting professionally. Contrary to popular belief, there's very little that is intuitive about running a business. Many black business owners strike out on their own because they desire wealth and autonomy but they don't know the first thing about making a business work. I've seen a store's operations grind to a screeching halt because the cat who is supposed to be handling his business to too busy trying to get a woman's phone number to wait on the customer. Again, this is not endemic to us, but knowing that makes it no less frustrating or forgivable.

Sour Grapes Update: A good friend of mine shared a story with me. He was talking with a white man in San Antonio when the man uttered the following phrase: "You all think you can do anything you want now that you've got a black President." I guess he didn't believe Obama when the Pres-Elect declared that he was "your president too."

Day Twelve: The Doldrums

2008-11-12T20:14:00.002-06:00

Please check back tomorrow.

Day Eleven: All Apologies

2008-11-11T17:30:00.006-06:00

I'm not a bad man.

At least I'd like to think not (granted, usually if you have to begin sentence with a character defense you're fighting a losing battle). Often, I can even fool myself into believing that I'm actually a really good person. But, like most, I've certainly caused my fair share of harm and I've got some apologizing to do. To that end, I offer my sincerest apologies, without reservation, to the following people who, to one degree or another, I've offended during my slow lurch toward maturity.

My mother - For being reckless, ill-mannered and slow to learn
My father - For legacy, and for perpetuating some of your more regrettable habits
My sister - For failing to jettison the sibling rivalry mentality in a more timely fashion
My spouse - For the last nine years (including Sunday)
My older son - For not being more involved in your life
My younger son - For not being as good a parent as your mother
Mrs. Rivers - For not becoming a physician
Mrs. Mask - For not becoming a writer
That sister who I turned down at the Summer Camp dance - For projecting my insecurities onto you
My older son's mom - For not walking away sooner
My high school sweetheart - For mistaking 19 years old for 17 years old
My college sweetheart - For them all
My students - For failing to prepare you properly
1914 - For not speeding our cause on it's way
The Cat Lady - For seeing you through the eyes of others
Claude - For taking the coward's bait
Nat - For overlooking you
Denise - For getting your car towed, and for the airport
Bruce - For making your problems my problems
Troy - For not being your brother
Floyd - For taking the easiest route
The Kid I Pushed Away - For pushing you away

If I've allowed any misdeeds to go unmentioned it is only because I can't remember them at this time. If aging has one saving grace, it is forgetfulness.

Day Ten: Goliath Responds

2008-11-10T17:54:00.007-06:00

"I hereby celebrate the brilliant, unparalleled mind of Another Conflict Theorist."

So incensed was I by Richard Cohen's LBJ column that I shot off my blog entry, in it's entirety, to the author at his Washington Post email address. I've done this before. I've countered Jason Whitlock's unabashed foolishness at jwhitlock@kcstar.com for a couple of years now. I also, regularly, submitted rebuttals to the local newspapers in DC, NYC, Milwaukee, and Minneapolis/St. Paul. Apart from having a few letters published, I've never really heard back from any of the objects of my righteous indignation. Until now. Today, I was checking my inbox and, to my surprise, found a response from Mr. Cohen. It read as follows:

I agree with everything you say --without, of course, the smug sarcasm --and I've never thought otherwise. But it is often overlooked that LBJ did not do what he was forced to do, but what he wanted to do. He and MLK both had their roles. To salute one is not to denigrate the other although, to be fair, my column could have used a reference to MLK. For that, I am sorry.

Thanks,

Richard Cohen
Columnist
The Washington Post

Of course, I focused a great deal more on the acceptance of my words as the gospel than on the somewhat factual accusation of "smug sarcasm." It is wrong that I had to force myself to not respond by asking for a job?

Day Nine: Prop 8 and The Black/Gay Divide

2008-11-09T12:29:00.026-06:00

There's Nothing New about Homophobia

OK. After having 24 hours to process Dan Savage's wrongheaded, finger-pointing column, reading infinitely more intelligent analysis about homophobia in the "black community," and organizing my own thoughts about the matter, I've finally decided to post my position on the Proposition 8 fallout.

As I mentioned yesterday, exit poll data broken down by race has shown that some 70% of African-American voters in California voted yes to Prop 8, a bigoted proposal to amend the California state constitution so that marriage is strictly defined as a union between a man and a woman. Gay whites, and supporters of gay rights, still reeling from the blow, of course began taking black folks to task across the blogosphere - some in patently racist terms - for our ironic complicity in this (given that, on the same day we realized our dream of electing an African-American president.) I have a few things to say about all of this:

Proposition 8 and the entire family of anti-gay legislation that seeks to "protect" marriage is an outright assault on the principles that African-Americans helped establish during the Civil Rights movement.
Just as I am pro gay rights, I am also inflexibly opposed to ANY form of blanket, legislated discrimination. I stood against Proposition 8, just as I stood and voted against Texas' Proposition 2 in 2005. Unfortunately for angry gay whites, African-American Texans couldn't be scapegoated then, as every single Texas county except one pushed it through.
I find it interesting that suddenly African-Americans, roughly 13% of the US population, and less than 7% in CA, have become the targets of gay white contempt. Suddenly, it has come to light that our homophobia has gummed up the machinery of gay equality. This, of course, is bullshit given that organized homophobia in the US almost always has whites at the forefront.
Thanks to the Defense of Marriage Act, same-sex marriage is not federally recognized. There are only two states in which gays have a legal right to get married. Same sex marriage restriction amendments have been developed and passed in 41 states, including now, California. African-Americans aren't responsible for this.
Thanks to the hard work that African-Americans and others have put in for well over a hundred years, the path to gay equality is infinitely shorter. Despite awful setbacks like Proposition 8, gay rights are crystallizing a whole hell of a lot faster than it took for African-Americans to realize SOME of ours. Like it or not, it would appear that black homophobes have already done a great deal of the heavy lifting.
Whites don't have a monopoly on gayness. There are gay minorities also.
Just as bigotry is bigotry, irresponsible journalism is irresponsible journalism. Savage's column got a lot of people riled up. This anger and disappointment quickly boiled over into unapologetic racism. After the shit hit the fan, Savage, having successfully let off steam, disappointingly ran for the same refuge in which bigoted pundits have been securing themselves for centuries: ignorance. From Savage: "Of course I don’t endorse any of the hostile, racist comments posted here. I stopped reading this thread, though, early yesterday afternoon; I couldn’t keep up." This, instead of writing another column which defused the situation, or even making his disdain for racism perfectly clear. Guess what, Dan? You are responsible for the tone of the comments left in response to your angry column. Just as you're responsible for helping to clean up the mess.
Clueless, arrogant whites like Dan Savage seem to believe that African-Americans secured our rights by begging white people for them. Memo to Savage and his ilk: There was a whole hell of a lot more fighting, dying, demonstrating, petitioning, and sitting in than there was pleading. I'd thank you all to keep that in mind when you stupidly utter phrases like the following: "To the African-American community, my only recommendation is to remove the mote of bigotry in your own eye before you squawk too much about the oppression you experience by virtue of race." Those of you possessed of any amount of intelligence ought not to identify our multi-generational struggle for equality as squawking.
I feel the need to say this: gay whites never struck me as seeming to have much of a need for black folks. It is, therefore, unsurprising that Prop 8 would engender in so many of them such hostility toward African-Americans. What I do find surprising is the willingness with which so many of them would fall for Divide and Conquer. While I do understand their anger, I find it regrettable that it manifests itself against us instead of the real enemy.
Finally, it occurred to me that folks like Dan Savage aren't as concerned about exploring the overstated black/gay divide as they are using it as focal point from which to broadcast their hurt feelings. Yes, it's unconscionable that so many black voters supported Prop 8. It's ridiculous and it's ugly. However, it's just as unfortunate that white folks like Dan, instead of recognizing the complexity of the African-American community, view it as a simple ignorant monolith.

Day Eight: Blacks Hate Gays?

2008-11-08T19:29:00.011-06:00

Because, apparently, this shit is all our fault

Peace,

Today I was planning on tackling Prop 8, and all the discussion surrounding the news that 75% of African-American voters supported it. I decided against it. After reading Dan Savage's opinion on "Black Homophobia" and some of the unapologetically racist comments of his supporters, my draft took on a tone that was far too vitriolic. Frankly, I have to admit that my thoughts about this topic aren't organized enough. So I refer you to L-Boogie, who writes Blackrageous, for her take on things. Maybe I'll have something tomorrow. Maybe.

But, just so you get an sense of what I've been thinking, I'll leave you with a message that I left on Dan Savage's Slog:

"Frankly, I'm not terribly surprised by the vitriol being spewed in this thread by (understandably) frustrated gay whites and supporters of gay rights. I've noticed that race is what things generally end up boiling down to. It's been said repeatedly throughout this thread but it bears repeating: Black folks are generally a great deal more religious (and religiously conservative) than other groups. If you compare the "70%!" stat about which so many of you are screaming with the voting patterns of religious conservatives, I'm certain you would find a similar percentage. But you all just can't avoid envisioning Negroes keeping you oppressed, can you?

And Mr. Savage: I find it interesting that you are suddenly concerned about how "Black Homophobia" affects GLBT African-Americans, when you've shown zero interest in the subject up until now. Your completely pathetic attempt to cocoon yourself from criticism by claiming that you're starting dialogue notwithstanding, I'm not buying it. Frankly, believe it or not, this discussion has been taking place among African-Americans for decades. We certainly don't need the likes of you to get shit going."

Day Seven: Parting Shots

2008-11-07T19:58:00.020-06:00

"How could I have ever considered cutting off those beautiful balls."

Now that the shock and unabashed delight of the Obama Victory is beginning to wear off a bit, I think I'm finally at a place where I can begin focusing on the absurdity surrounding it. I'll be using this post as an excuse to provide a little bit of color commentary on some of the things that went down the night of November 4, 2008, and fire a few rounds at the clowns who participated in the circus.

a) McRedneck - I KNOW that I wasn't the only person who peeped that mean-mugging, mustachioed hillbilly holding his son at the McCain concession speech. My friends, that wasn't just disappointment on his face. He looked like, at any minute, he was going to pass his son off to the nearest person, go to his Ford F150, pull out his shotgun, and shoot the first black person he saw. That man was seething. My hope is that the Secret Service interpreted that look the same way I did and had a long talk with Billy Bob.

b) Sarah Flailin' - What Now? That's the question that media outlets collectively posed regarding the pointlessly ambitious, high-heeled bag of potatoes that currently (and thankfully still) governs the state of Alaska. I'm not sure why so many white folks are attempting to attribute a complexity to her that simply doesn't exist. The perennial love affair that whites have with themselves never ceases to amaze me. So, what now? I'll take a stab at it. She'll sink back into her Alaskan purgatory with the First Dude, her kids: Tractor, Truck, Trailer, Trick and Tramp, sit on her back porch monitoring Russia with a pair of binoculars, and dream about a time when a woman who didn't know that Africa is a continent almost made it to the White House.

c) "O" Most Famous - Dave Chappelle once mused that he didn't realize how famous a president could be. He said of Bill Clinton that his fame was so great a person could fellate him and then she would become famous. She could even go on to write a book about her knee-chaffing experiences, for the simple act of servicing a presidential penis had turned her into a qualified author. No one, according to the Chappelle, had a pick up line quite as compelling: "S_ck my d_ck, there's a future in it for you!" Not until Oprah Winfrey leaned on a stranger's back in Grant Park and instantly made him a sought after celebrity did I realize just how spot on Dave Chappelle had been.

d) Will I. Am - I didn't really expect to see Dude.

e) The Tears of a Clown - Perhaps I've been a bit too harsh. I'd initially interpreted Jesse Jackson's public weeping in Grant Park as a cynical, last ditch attempt to place himself in the headlines. I thought, surely, that a man who'd whispered malintentions toward Barack Obama only a few short months ago could not have undergone such an extraordinary change of heart. These tears were simply a put on - a present day version of staining his shirt red with MLK's blood to pretend that he was more connected to the moment than he actually was. But I think now that I may have misjudged Jesse. I think now that his tears were genuine. I think he considered that he would no longer have backdoor access to a Democratic White House. I think he realized that he would no longer be on standby to soothe the soul of a libidinous president. I think he knew that he'd been unceremoniously removed from the gravy train. I believe that this series of realizations led him to cry like he'd lost a loved one. I guess, in a sense, he had. The night of November 4th, Jesse Jackson finally came to the conclusion that many of us reached a long time ago - he'd lost himself.

Day Six: Expect It

2008-11-06T17:50:00.007-06:00

Now In Season

Our great, collective, symbolic prayer has been answered. We are understandably euphoric. Brothers and sisters who I barely recognize are smiling knowingly at me and giving me the 'We Did It' thumbs up. This is all good. But we need to be watchful. We can not underestimate the extent to which some of these stupid, salty-assed crackers will attempt to pee in our lemonade. A couple of recent examples from my state:

In Terrell, Texas, the local newspaper, The Terrell Tribune refused to carry the Obama win as a headline. The editors chose, instead, to go with an area race. Not surprisingly, local blacks, as well as others, who were desirous of obtaining a keepsake were confused and outraged, and decided to picket the headquarters. Staffers, unburdened by a sense decency, actually walked outside and snapped pictures of the protesters. When local media picked up the story, the Tribune saw fit to issue the following response: "We are a newspaper, not a memory book service. We covered the local comissioners race. We felt that was more important." Additionally, they added that this insulting omission could not be attributed to racism because the winner of the commissioner's race was black. Frankly, I almost would have preferred that the Tribune come clean: "We felt this was an opportune time to stick it to you convivial, uppity Negroes."
The students of Baylor University (an overpriced, overrated college in Waco, TX) were gifted with a noose sometime during election day. I've written about this cowardly phenomenon. Apparently, some white folks (I believe we can safely assume this of the noose-givers) can only find self-fulfillment by reminding themselves of a time when they could kill niggers with impunity. The times appear to be a-changin' a little too much for their tastes.

I predict that this will continue, at least for the short term. We should not be caught off guard by it. Historically, racist whites have, without fail, responded to African-American progress with violence or the threat thereof. Sadly, it is inevitable. My advice: Screw your courage to the sticking place and ride out the foolishness. I hate to differ with the title of one of my all time favorite albums, but not even a nation of millions can hold us back.

Day Five: The Now

2008-11-05T19:33:00.007-06:00

The Unbelievable, Beautiful Reality of the Moment

I'm not going to focus on any negativity today (that means I won't bother to let you know what I think about Jesse Jackson and his scripted shedding of crocodile tears). No. Today, I'm happy for my people. Today, I'm happy for my country. Moreover, I'm happy about being wrong. For this one day, I'm not focused on the past or the future. I'm focused on the moment - and what a beautiful one it is. We're certified, baby.

Day Four: If Not For The Generosity of the Powerful..

2008-11-04T11:34:00.014-06:00

White America's Message to Itself

Today, one of the directors at my job presented an article to me that she thought I might like. Entitled, "The Election that LBJ Won," it links Obama's probable victory to LBJ's signing of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. This is, in and of itself, not terribly problematic. But the author, the Washington Post's Richard Cohen, actually takes it quite a few steps further and uses the occasion of Barack's impending triumph as cause to celebrate LBJ's progressiveness - even going so far as to include the following sentence: An Obama win would complete a journey begun 40 years ago.

Here we go again. During the Democratic primaries Hillary Clinton (who, as I've written, almost certainly cast her vote for John McCain this morning) placed former President Johnson's importance to the Civil Rights struggle above that of Martin Luther King Jr. This bit of stupidity, in part, cost her a great deal of African-American support. I'm sure Hillary and Cohen are expressing what millions of white liberals assume to be true, but here's the problem: Apart from being tacky, arrogant and oblivious, the idea that LBJ is primarily responsible for the 1964 Voting Rights Act is just plain wrong.

One important truism that the self-congratulating Clintons and Cohens of the world don't seem to get is a basic axiom that Frederick Douglass realized over a century and a half ago, "Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will." Any form of Civil rights legislation that has been passed in this country, or around the world, is the direct result of a ceaseless barage of activist agitation. You're not working a 40-hour week because the aristocrats who owned the means of production suddenly decided to lighten up on your forebears some 70 years ago. Union organization made that possible. Women all across the country aren't voting today because Woodrow Wilson woke up one morning and decided that the 19th amendment just had to be ratified. That was the direct result of the suffering of suffragists. The same is true of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. Johnson didn't hand over the South to the Republicans with the stroke of a pen because he was feeling charitable. He signed because he recognized that the writing was already on the wall.

Of course, by now, anyone paying attention should come to expect this kind of clueless arrogance. Those who, for whatever reason, feel a kinship with the powerful will often attribute kindness to them when history doesn't. You see this when white Southerners pat themselves on the backs for ending slavery, or when men congratulate themselves for deigning to allow women to enter the workplace. Recently, I received an email from a good friend. He'd shared one of my blog entries with a white person. This white person wanted my friend to remind me that "if it wasn't for white people, Obama wouldn't be where he is today." So there it is. Whites, having created and long benefited from this country's still-functional system of racial injustice would like to receive credit when a black person manages to successfully navigate it.

At any rate, despite what Richard Cohen and people of his ilk may wish to believe, the journey to African-American freedom and equality began a great deal more than 40 years ago, and, even with a Obama victory, it is FAR from complete. Further, it did not start at the behest of powerful men like Lyndon Baines Johnson. If Mr. Cohen, stricken, as he appears to be, by liberal, 60's nostalgia, is feeling the urge to thank those responsible, he need only take a drive down I-95 and visit the final resting spots of those who paid the ultimate price for equality.

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: A friend introduced to me the possibility that, when I write critically of white America, what I'm really doing is railing against the powerful. I quickly reminded him that in this country, to have white skin is to automatically enjoy advantages that non-whites don't have. This white privilege, as it has been labled, is nothing if not power.

Day Three: The Precipice

2008-11-03T17:36:00.008-06:00

Peace to One and All:

I'd like to go on record as being the 97th million person to remind you all to go out and vote tomorrow. I'd also like to mention a few other things...

a) I'm definitely NOT going to lie to you and tell you that 'It doesn't matter who you vote for as long as you vote.' I'm not sure why people bother saying that trite shit. Perhaps because it makes them feel objective and magnanimous. I don't know. What I do know is that if you're inclined to vote for four more years of the same deplorable situation then I'd rather you stayed your ass at home and not participate - thank you very much.

b) Black folks in battleground states (Namely, Ohio, Missouri, Pennsylvania, New Mexico and Virginia) who, for some reason or another, are choosing not to vote need a potent dose of strong reconsideration. We're on the precipice of placing an African-American man of whom we can be proud in the White House. This ain't your father's black presidential candidate. This guy is bonafide. Let's give our kids a measure of proof that, despite overwhelming odds, they can achieve whatever goal they set their minds to. Also, as Chris Rock joked, I'm tired of giving my sons that speech when I hardly believe it myself.

c) Speaking of Jesse and Al: Can we now, at long last, admit to ourselves that these cats are the self-serving, self-glorifying, shameless, running-to-the-front-of-the-pack leeches that many of us thought they were? Their conservative critics have always accused them of being "race hustlers." Can't we admit that, on rare occasions such as this, right wingers can actually be correct? Al has, at least, done the decent thing by keeping his mouth shut and not (God forbid!) endorsing Obama. But Jesse? Appearing on Fox News (of all places) and audibly admitting that he'd like to castrate Obama? That was completely disgusting and should be, if we've got the good sense that God has given most of us, inexcusable. I think November 4th should be the day that we make two extremely progressive moves on behalf of black America: Put a black man in the White House and put these two jokers out of work. Who knows. Maybe these "Men of Faith" will actually have to get real jobs.

d) And finally, could someone tell me why people afix bumper stickers to their vehicles? Who do you think is being convinced to vote one way or another based on the slogan attached to the back of your '97 Accord? What happens if/when your candidate loses? And even if he or she wins, don't you suppose that you might want to sell your car one day? What if the potential buyer votes to the left or right of you? As much as I support the Obama candidacy, unless homeboy is willing to buy my Camry for above Blue Book, I'm not gluing his name to my car.

Day Two: An Enigmatic Death

2008-11-02T09:13:00.006-06:00

When Being Young, Gifted and Black Just Isn't Enough

Day Two of the November Project begins with my thoughts on the suicide of DEF Jam Executive Vice President, Shakir Stewart.

I often don't know how to respond to suicide. It's an extremely difficult situation, not only because of the person's death but because of the uncomfortable circumstances surrounding it. Based on everything that I know and have read, Stewart's was an enviable life. He was young, accomplished in his career, intelligent, talented, driven and desirous of helping those who were willing to help themselves. The world was his oyster. Yesterday, Stewart decided that this unique combination of gifts weren't enough to keep him tethered to this life and ended it all with a gunshot.

Generally, I've noticed that folks have a similar reaction to suicide: Dismissal. People start out by saying all the right things. They openly wonder what went wrong. They dole out "Rest in Peace" pronouncements. Well wishers are sorrowful and respectful. But there's also some hidden judgment as well. When pressed about their feelings, people speak in terms of 'giving up,' 'selfishness' and 'cowardice.' They speak of all the responsibilities that the departed has left behind. They ask how the person could do this to his or her loved ones. They express a deep disappointment with the deceased. This usually also goes hand in hand with some sort of a religion-fueled damnation - after all, suicides have condemned themselves to the lake of fire, or so the belief goes.

What's usually missing is a general discussion of mental illness in the form of depression. I don't know much about Stewart's situation but it sounds as if he could have lived if he had received help from a mental health professional. Like other groups, black people don't like to acknowledge mental disorders, particularly when they're close to home. I speak from experience. I've battled depression for most of my adult life. Since first being diagnosed with depression in the mid-90s, I've been on some form of medication. This was difficult, not only because I had to admit that I needed help, but also because of the stigma attached to depression. Not long after I found out that I was depressed, I went to my mother and sister with the news. My sister's advice to me was to "cheer up." My mother told me that I needed to get right with God and start going to church again. In their minds, there was little possibility that the help I needed couldn't come from within, or be received from the pulpit. I don't fault them for their responses, but I think they illustrate a greater point. Neither my mother nor sister are foolish people. What they are (or were) is completely misinformed about what depression is, and what it means to be stricken with it. So many people are not aware of the disease that many of those who need help simply aren't getting it.

An arduous navigation of this country's inequitable terrain can be made nigh impossible if one also has to grapple with mental illness. My hope is that we can reach a point at which depression and other diseases can be identified and treated before they snuff out more promising lives. We should look at needless, premature deaths like Stewart's as reminders that there are millions of us who are struggling with disease, and who don't deserve to be marginalized because of it.

The November Project

2008-11-01T23:06:00.007-05:00

Peace,

There are three bloggers, each with his/her own unique voice, who I find consistently inspirational.

The first is Harold M. Clemens, the author of Ghetto Uprising. Truth be told, if I hadn't happened upon his blog, Blaxplanation would probably not exist. A couple of years ago, I read one of Harold's articles on Blackcommentator.com. After I read it, I made a beeline for Harold's blog and was so impressed that I thought I should start my own. Harold's writing, as well as his analysis, is ridiculously on point. So much so that after I read it I feel that I need to scrap some of my own inadequate ideas and go back to the drawing board.

The second blogger is Cliff, who brings his love for his people and community to life in Cliff's Crib. I've never met Cliff but he strikes me as one of those cats who you meet and immediately feel as if you've known your entire life. Cliff is the kind of cat who, if you don't like him, something is wrong with your ass. Cliff's writing is equal parts criticism of and affection for his people. Cliff's story is one of rebirth, rebuilding and commitment. When reading his words, I often feel as if I'm having a conversation with an old and dear friend.

Last but certainly not least is...well, I'm not exactly sure what alias to use. All you need to know about Mel is that soon enough, you will be reading one of her novels at two in the morning, red-eyed, depressed about how exausted you're going to be at work the next day, but completely incapable of putting it down. Mel's that sister who you see at the job everyday doing her thing. You may be astute enough to realize that she's intelligent. You may even have picked up on the fact that she's multilayered. But you'll never know the full story. It won't be until she makes moves and becomes your former coworker that it dawns on you that you were once in the presence of greatness on a daily basis.

Mel also has inspired me to blog once a day, every single day, for the entire month of November. I figure if she can write 2,000 words a day I can supply some meaningless meanderings for a short month. So this November, I write in solidarity.

The (Ill-Considered) Rise of the Party People

2008-10-29T17:49:00.005-05:00

The Evening of November 4, 2008

My wife recently received an invitation from an enthusiastic Obama supporter to attend a “Victory Celebration.” This event is set to take place on the occasion of Barack’s defeat of his doddering, arm-flailing Republican opponent. My wife, who’s been desirous of celebrating this historic event in one way or another, plans on going and has repeatedly chided me for my unwillingness to participate. I’ve also heard that many black folks are planning Obama victory parties all across the country.

Those of you who know me and/or read this blog should be familiar with my support of the good Senator from Illinois. This group should also know, by now, how deep my distrust of white America runs. Far be it from me to be a party pooper, but Obama-Mania has reached such a crescendo that I worry about the possible ramifications for black America should he lose. I fear for those who haven’t been paying attention to the last couple of elections. Hello? Voting “irregularities” occurred in both the 2000 (Florida) and 2004 (Ohio) elections - and I don’t need to remind any of you that these victories were stolen from wealthy white men. What makes you November 4th partygoers think that the same won’t happen in 2008? The entire election process has been deeply and repeatedly compromised. AND, as you might expect, to one degree or another, Bradley will be in effect. We can not allow our excitement to cloud our judgment. We need to take a page from the Book of Larry David and curb our enthusiasm.

A co-worker and I have a bet going. It’ll be the easiest money (well, truthfully we didn’t wager any money but I’m the type who relishes any kind of triumph, monetary or otherwise) I’ve ever made. The bet is based on her conviction that Obama will win Texas. TEXAS. This woman is intelligent, educated and generally cautious. But she’s so deluded by her love for Obama that she actually believes he’ll win a state that hasn’t gone Democrat in a national election since LBJ. She, like some others, has allowed her gusto to turn her into merely a fan as opposed to a clear thinking student of political history.

Again, I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s parade. I wholeheartedly believe that the symbolism of a black man winning the election can’t be understated. But an Obama victory will be, after all is said and done, just the beginning. This country is still a mess and, last time I checked, many of our people are still laboring as a part of a permanent underclass. Predictably, there will also be a great deal of white backlash with which to contend. So please. As many of you self-satisfactorily dip your brushes in the can to paint the White House black, I beg you to consider the work still left to be done – not only by Obama but also by us.

The Crossroads

2008-10-18T09:43:00.040-05:00

The Distinguished Senator from Illinois, pictured here givin' them bitches the Heisman

Okay. He's comfortably ahead (in fact, no candidate with this much of a lead this close to the election has lost.) The economy is in shambles. Gas prices, although dropping of late, are still too damned high. The War in Iraq is little more than an albatross around the neck of the current administration. McCain is belligerent, dithering, and has foolishly saddled himself with an imbecilic hockey mom. Virginia, a safe Republican stronghold for decades, is suddenly up for grabs. Conservatives, having seen Bush run roughshod over their small government sensibilities for the past eight years, are disillusioned, and dislike McCain more than they do Obama. It's a perfect storm. Never before in the history of the American politic has the incumbent party won an election with this many things going against it. And Barack? He's been at the center of one of the most beautifully choreographed campaigns I've ever seen. He hasn't fallen for any of the race-baiters who've attempted to lure the Angry Black Man out of hiding. He's clean. They've been digging for close to a year and haven't produced anything but a "connection" to a terrorist when he was eight years old (contrast this with Palin - who's many shortcomings were exposed about 24 hours after she was selected.) Further, Obama has far greater temperament, charisma, and intelligence than his opponent. He appears to be the right man at the right time. November 4, 2008 is a wrap, right? So why am I still disquieted?

I don't know, folks. I'm just not certain that Obama can win this election. Frankly, I don't think that white Americans have the intestinal fortitude to overlook their racist preconceptions and vote for an African-American for President. After all, there's a great deal at stake for them. Americans, in general, define themselves by how much better they're doing than everyone else. White Americans, in particular, having long bought in to the idea that they are the racial cream of the crop, define themselves by how much better they're doing than minorities. Admittedly, over the course of the last few decades, white Americans have had to grudgingly acknowledge that they're losing ground, particularly to Asians. Asian-American students score significantly higher marks in math and science than their white counterparts. In reaction to this, many whites have comforted themselves by perpetuating the belief that all Asian high-achievers are somehow miserable and lack the ability to enjoy themselves. Since this is a trade off that most whites are willing to make, they are still able to view themselves favorably (not to mention the fact that they still accurately see themselves as the gatekeepers of corporate America). Crisis averted. Yet, while Asian academic superiority has given whites pause, a black man in the White House might send them into a complete self-evaluative tailspin.

Given the history of this country, no matter how poorly they're doing, I'm convinced that whites take comfort in the idea that at least they're doing better than black folks. When whites see other whites driving more expensive cars and living in better neighborhoods than they, they see their own potential. When whites see minorities, especially black folks, living better than they, they start in with all kinds of bizarre, racist rationalizations. They reckon that the successful black person must be a professional athlete or a drug dealer, or just plain lucky. Surely it can't be because the black person is educated and hard working. There must be some sort of trickery afoot. We saw this at play with regard to Obama himself, whose unflappable demeanor has been described by his white opponents as "slick," and who's eloquence has been characterized as "smooth talk." This attempt to transform a remarkable attribute - Obama's superior ability to inspire - into a detriment has resonated with whites at least partially because of his blackness. Surely, they think, a black man can't have that much of an edge over a white man. For these whites, black success must be regarded with suspicion. And in many cases, with jealousy.

Recently, a video has been circulating of a speech given by Richard Trumka of the AFL-CIO. In the speech, Trumka takes his union brothers and sisters to task for their reluctance to vote for Obama because of the color of his skin. While I admire Trumka for addressing this problem head on, the tragedy is that there was ever a need to give the speech in the first place. Of all the interest groups in the US, unions should be able to immediately recognize what side their bread is buttered on. But therein lies the issue: many of these union members view themselves as white first, and then workers. As a result (just as they did in 1980 and again in '84, albeit for different reasons) they will vote against their own self-interest rather than vote for a black man. Moreover, they can't see that they have a great deal more in common with the average black worker than with a wealthy white person. Their whiteness has clouded their vision like a cataract.

As sickened as I was by overnight sensation 'Joe the Plumber,' I feel that he illustrates wonderfully the psyche of many white Americans. Joe worked himself into a lather about the Obama tax plan. He asked himself why he should be penalized for his success. He worked hard and was entitled to enjoy the fruits of his labor. But here's the thing: Joe was never in danger of being taxed more because he earned over 250K. In fact, when pressed, Joe admitted that he wouldn't earn close to that amount. Joe is all supposition and little substance. But he believes in America, in his innate whiteness, and therefore, in his ability to pull himself up by his bootstraps despite the odds. Even with the weight of the evidence against it, Joe believes that he has more in common with his oppressors than with the poor, the struggling and the black.

Chris Rock once joked that despite the fact that he's rich, none of his white audience members would trade places with him. James Baldwin put if differently. He was bemused by whites who claimed that they couldn't understand "the Negro Problem." Baldwin opined that whites knew that they wouldn't want to be black in this country and that, if they knew that, they knew enough. The progress that has been made over the course of the last 50 years notwithstanding, whites still have a long way to go with regard to their own prejudices. And so, with this election, white America finds itself at the crossroads. November the fourth is as much an exploration of their own shortcomings on race as it is a decision about the next four years. For all of our sakes, I hope they do some much needed soul-searching. I would hate for their shame to be the shame of an entire nation.

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: I am, in NO WAY, saying that whites who support McCain are racist. On the contrary, dyed-in-the-wool Repubs and folks who just flat out like McCain would be remiss in not backing their candidate. This post is meant to address those whites who are swayed to the McCain ticket by Obama's blackness.

On Cheating: The Big Why

2008-10-09T07:00:00.021-05:00

"Despite the fact that she took everything, it's the 'poorly-endowed' part that hurts."

As promised, in this post I will attempt to explain why men cheat. Like many, I've spent a great deal of time wondering why seemingly "good" guys struggle to stay faithful to the people that they love. My conclusions are based, not only on my own experiences, but on those of men who I know and know of.

Men can cheat at any age. Just as I've heard about men who've cheated on their honeymoons, I've heard of decades-long, solid as a rock marriages breaking up over infidelity. Based on what I've seen, however, young men cheat for far different reasons than older men.

Frankly, most young men really don't stand a chance. Socialized, as they are, to equate manhood with sexual conquests, burdened by runaway libidos, and encouraged to go out and accumulate as many exotic, often sexual ego-building experiences as they can, they often find themselves destined for infidelity. Some don't even know why they do it. They just feel compelled. I was one of these. Although I wasn't married, I was unfaithful to women who I dated. On those occasions when I was asked why I did it, I honestly couldn't provide an intelligent answer. I felt that I'd been somehow intoxicated by other women. It wasn't until I ruined a great relationship with a wonderful person that I jettisoned the excuses and really took a hard look at myself.

Many older men, on the other hand, cheat to feed malnourished egos. These past-their-prime Lotharios - particularly those who are married or in long-term, committed relationships - are especially susceptible to falling for the Appeal to Conceit. These men grow tired of seeing themselves through their partner's world-weary eyes. Typically, they've fallen into a rut at home. They eat the same meals. They have the same standard, nighttime, lights off, missionary sex. They are subject to the same "nagging" (Aside to readers: I'm likely to agree with Edith Clara Summerskill, who said that "Nagging is the repetition of unpalatable truths," but most men aren't as willing to accept this truism as I) that they have been for years. They wonder how the young, buoyant, hyper-sexed women who used to be their cheerleaders became the jaded, disinterested coupon-clippers to whom they now find themselves married today. So along comes this other woman. She isn't burdened by having to make his home or raise his children. She doesn't have to worry about the bills or their retirement or the vicissitudes that come with maintaining a marriage. She gets to see him at his best without having to worry about everything that goes into creating his image. He likes her because she makes him feel desirable and intelligent and capable (Aside to readers: Men have exceptionally sensitive egos. Most of the ones I know, including me, require compliments and praise more than they will ever let on.) He is willing to completely overlook the fact that she has absolutely no stake in him, his children or his future. So he finds himself allowing her to feed his fragile little ego - a prelude to adultery. Soon enough, the dearly departed, formerly faithful are creating fantastic, guilt-relieving rationales about how their wives drove them to cheat, or how they were suffocating and desperately needed their freedom, or some such bullshit.

Up until now, I've explained the HOW of cheating but written very little about the WHY. That's because I believe it's important for women to be able to view infidelity within context. Bearing that in mind, here's something that all heterosexual women need to be aware of: ALL sexually active, heterosexual men want to have athletic, unemotional sex with a variety of women. Those women among you who are fortunate enough to have an attentive, faithful, loving boyfriend/husband/partner should know that he's included as well. This fact may be one of the most difficult things for some women to accept. Men are chronically plagued by sexual thoughts. Some of us distract ourselves from this by constantly reminding ourselves how much we love our wives (or how much we stand to lose if they catch us cheating). Others deflect this desire by immersing ourselves in the church (of course, there are a lot of women in the church so this might not be such a good idea). Religious men attempt to quell this sinful urge by marrying early and lovingly directing it toward The One (more on this in a future post.) Still others keep themselves busy with activities that take our minds off of extra-committal sexual pursuits. Then there are those who rush full on in the direction of temptation. I know quite a few men who cheat often, and unapologetically. They feel entitled. For them, the more women the better. These men require no analysis.

Honestly, as much as I'd like to be able to convince you otherwise, there's no foolproof way for determining whether you're with a cheater or a steadfastman. Some women like to believe that once a cheater always a cheater. While this notion makes life simpler, it isn't always true. I was a serial cheater prior to marriage, but my wife and I have been together for nine years and I've been faithful to her since the first day that I met her. This isn't because I don't want to have sex with other women. My fidelity has mainly to do with the following two facts:
1) While I often find myself sexually attracted to other women, I don't want to cheat on my wife. I know I've got a good thing going and I don't want to mess it up.
2) I'm familiar with my own weaknesses. I know that I've given in to temptation before (mostly in college) and I know precisely what I need to avoid.

As a result, I work very diligently to keep myself out of compromising, potentially ruinous positions. I don't go to strip clubs. I don't spend a great deal of time with rabidly adulterous friends of mine. I don't lodge serious complaints about my wife with other women. And, most importantly, I don't create opportunities to cheat. I don't spend any time around good looking women who show an interest in me. At all. I know what that leads to. So far, so good. But being a man is a little like being an alcoholic. You have to take fidelity one day at a time.

So, finally, we come to the Big Why. It's simple really. Men cheat because they want to. They cheat because they put themselves before their wives, girlfriends, partners and families. They cheat because they mistake a strong sexual urge for a biological imperative. They cheat because they choose their egos over their commitments. There's really nothing more to it than that.

On Cheating: Enduring Adulterers

2008-10-05T14:13:00.022-05:00

"I do not think that there are any men who are faithful to their wives." -Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

I've been meaning to write about this for a long time. I'm going to attempt to take on adultery in this post. I'm going to try to avoid doing any finger pointing or assigning of blame - believe me, there's plenty of the latter to go around anyway. I'm just going to write about a pattern that I've noticed. I'm inclined toward cynicism so don't expect me support the idea that love triumphs over all. I've too much evidence, anecdotal and otherwise, to the contrary.

My friend's husband is having sex with other women. She broke down and told me what was going on one day when she couldn't contain her sadness any longer. Apparently, it's been going on for years, and with a myriad of different partners. Not terribly long ago, this man suddenly became incapacitated by illness. His wife, a prayerful, loyal, long-suffering type, dedicated herself to caring for him to the point that she was literally wiping his mouth and emptying his colostomy bags. Miraculously, he recovered and, in short order, started screwing everything that moved. When my friend confronted him with evidence of his infidelity and demanded that he explain himself, he told her that, because he'd been so close to death, he felt that he owed it to himself to live each day as if it were his last (on the last day of his life, apparently, part of his agenda would be wooing and entering other women.)

Yet, from my perspective, this is only half of the tragedy. Soon after learning of her husband's cheating ways, my friend began to seek counsel from me and a mutual friend in whom she'd confided. On a number of different occasions, the three of us would spend hours discussing her husband, her options and her sanity. Based, I believe, on some combination of these discussions and her own self-motivation, she made the difficult but sensible decision to pack her things and leave the bastard. The plan was executed perfectly. She saved up enough money to relocate. She set up a job and a place to live in another state. She lulled her husband into falsely believing that she would continue to eat his shit. Then, she arranged for him to come home to a dark (the electricity was in her name) empty (she had purchased most of the furniture, except the bed - more on this later) house one day after work. She called me, and our mutual friend, after she'd gone to thank us for the sound advice and update us on her progress. Everything was going well. Then, a few weeks later, out of nowhere, she called us to let us know that she was coming back "home." According to her, she simply "missed" her husband too much to stay away and was going to attempt to work it out. But, ironically, it was too late. Her husband had already moved on - and moved another woman into 'her' house. Now, her husband was ready to divorce her and she was left to cry and rail against the fact that "that Nigga done brought home a bitch to sleep in my bed!" As she told me this, a famous Big Daddy Kane line played in my noggin like a refrain: "Put a quarter in your ass because you played yourself."

She's not alone. I know at least four women whose husbands have cheated on them, with relative impunity, for years. Each of these women has more or less confided in me regarding their situations. What invariably happens is this: They tell me and various others that their husbands are running around on them. The curse the cheating SOB's name loudly, and often publicly. They make plans to leave. They stay. Eventually, the husband grows tired of the charade and ends up leaving them.

This pattern is so pervasive that I find myself wondering why anyone feels the need to continue burdening anyone else with news of male infidelity. If a man knows he can get away with cheating he will continue to make a fool of his wife and himself. I'm familiar with the challenges that face women, especially those who have children, who attempt to leave an abusive spouse. What I don't understand is what those women who are in a good position to leave - financially, educationally, emotionally and physically - gain from staying.

Recently, a lot of media attention has been given to Gary Neuman, author of The Truth About Cheating: Why Men Stray and What You Can Do To Prevent It, in an attempt to determine why men can't manage to keep it in their pants. I believe I know the answer to this and will address it in my next post, but I think a more important question to answer is why women continue to put up with it. Instead of taking exhaustive, often futile measures to try to obliterate men's adulterous inclinations, perhaps it would benefit women more to look after themselves.

The Free Wheelin' Conflict Theorist

2008-10-03T21:35:00.018-05:00

Thuggin' Love at it's most touching

I just read Cliff's latest post and, not unusually, was inspired to freestyle once again.

First - and this is an addendum to an argument that I left over at Cliff's Crib - Sarah Palin is NOT being picked on by the media. Katie Couric is not Alfred H. Lewis. Let's get a grip. For example, I live in Texas. The Dallas Morning News. See? I managed to come up with the name of my local newspaper rather easily, and did it without the aide of Google. Also, and not for nothing, but I'm only an HR professional and I know what the Bush Doctrine is. Anyone with more than a passing interest in the actions of this crooked-assed president and his daddy should be familiar with it. It's simple shit, people. Here's what it boils down to: Sarah Palin simply doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. She's not qualified to be a candidate for Vice President and I wish people would stop acting as if she's splitting atoms just because she doesn't completely disintegrate when the cameras are turned on her. It's officially become irritating. She's fighting above her intellectual weight class and everyone knows it. The very next time a hypocritical right-winger attacks affirmative action, white women (who have benefited from it, and continue to do so infinitely more than blacks) had better circle the God damned wagons.

Hillary Clinton is going to vote for John McCain. She's got her angry white female loyalists printing up HILLARY 2012 bumper stickers as I type this. Which brings me to another observation. The ONLY mistake that Obama has made during his improbable campaign is failing to close the gap between himself and the Clintons - who still have considerable political pull, and anger over having been whipped by a Negro neophyte. Obama should have been able to strike some sort of back room, under the table deal with the Clinton cadre to sew up their loyalties, at least for the current election cycle. His failure to do so may very well cost him the election.

We Americans love deluding ourselves. One such delusion is that Osama Bin Laden is currently running around like a trapped rat living in a cave. He is not. As sure as John McCain's wife is a drug addict, that murderous fanatic is living in a dwelling that makes your house look like that shack in Wasilla from which Sarah Palin use to "govern." It comforts us to believe that our great modern day walking evil is running around, eating only herbs and berries, and eeking out a hunted existence like the family in The Land of the Lost. It makes us feel that he's less of a threat and that our complete and utter failure to capture him isn't all that bad. It ain't so, folks. Bin Laden isn't living like a Flintstone, and he had an iPhone 3G before you did.

And finally, I need to know why so many of you seem to love Lil' Wayne so much. Why do you continue to prop him up so? What is so fascinating about him? Have you actually heard his voice? Or seen him? Or listened to his *sigh* music? What's wrong with you people? Some days ago, I was watching VH1's 100 Greatest Hip Hop Songs special. According to some unfathomable combination of VH1 producers and hip hop listeners, the Doug E. Fresh/Slick Rick classic, "The Show," was #51. Number 51. That's at least in the top 20 my fellow Americans. "So," I thought to myself, "surely the the top 50 must be masterpieces." Of course, that hope was dashed when #50 was announced: "The Block is Hot" by the afore mentioned cockroach, Lil' Wayne. Since I can't blame myself for this travesty, that only leaves you. You may apologize if it suits you but I assure you that it will not be accepted.

Blaxplanation Workplace Chronicles: Forming and Formalizing Alliances

2008-10-02T14:52:00.012-05:00

In Favor of Black Upliftment (image by Karen Y. Buster)

For those of us who are diminished daily by the slings and arrows of the predominately white workplace, I’ve decided to begin documenting some of my job-related experiences. Like many of you, I could easily dedicate an entirely new blog to the five-day-a-week discriminatory spectacle to which I’m privy. Despite the well documented and oft-repeated progress we’ve made, many of us still have to sit idly by and watch whites hurdle effortlessly over obstacles that employers place in our paths to block our ascension. In any event, I’ll begin the inaugural “Blaxplanation Workplace Chronicles” by sharing the All Too True experiences of “Marcus,” a good, young brother with whom I work.

Marcus was viewed as an ambitious, talented “up and comer” within the walls of the healthcare organization for which I toil. Marcus was brought on board by one of the company’s Senior Vice Presidents (he’d had a position created for him, in fact) and soon won everyone over with his intelligence, charm, professionalism and eagerness to assist others with their projects. He’d been viewed so favorably, in fact, that his organizational benefactor, under pressure from workers who wondered aloud why there were so few African-Americans in management, saw fit to publicly hand-select him to become one of the darker faces of the organization. Seemingly, Marcus was being primed to eventually assume a leadership role in the company.

Alas, it was not to be. Despite Marcus’ desire to take on more responsibility, his supervisor repeatedly displayed a dogged unwillingness to develop him. Marcus’ fall from grace began shortly after he received an informal performance review from his supervisor in which he was generally lauded, but also accused of not being “engaged.” The plan was for Marcus to have only a short stint in his current position and then move to another part of the organization. Despite this, Marcus’ supervisor wanted him to plug in. Marcus, not yet familiar with BossSpeak – the ways in which a supervisor, in a seemingly non-threatening manner, informs an employee that he or she needs to correct something immediately, OR ELSE – simply viewed her comments as benign, constructive criticism. Upon hearing of this, I advised Marcus to fake it – send his boss work-related emails, in the evenings, from home and work the occasional Saturday. Although he was considerate enough to hear me out, and even willing to employ some of my strategies, he was also a straightforward person who was convinced that his work should speak for itself, and he should be above resorting to the kind of trickery that I’d suggested.

Shortly after his review, his manager, now inexplicably convinced that Marcus was unresponsive to her criticism, began to orchestrate his removal. Suddenly, she began to openly express fears that his work was suffering. Out of nowhere came concerns that his projects weren’t up to snuff. Then came the day when Marcus was called into her office only to find his manager and her supervisor, a director, waiting for him. Marcus was being written up - a write up that included such phrases as, “Perhaps I [the supervisor] overestimated your analytical ability.” Literally within a six week period, Marcus went from being the Golden Boy to the Whipping Boy in an organization that once valued him.

And where was his potential savior? Marcus’ SVP champion, the one who had brought him on board, promised to mentor him, and paraded him in front of the organization proved to be unwilling to help him. He allowed Marcus to flounder, displaying unusual anemia for someone in his lofty position. To be fair, this SVP has his own issues. He has his hands full maintaining the status quo. Despite enduring calls to increase diversity in management from all across the organization, he sends out defiant notices that no will be considered for a promotion based on his or her race (a bizarre and ignorant misinterpretation of equal opportunity employment law). As it turns out, he is one of those clueless whites who mistakes individual tokenism for widespread diversity (more on this situation in a later post).

Could Marcus have helped his situation? Certainly. His propensity for forthrightness not withstanding, he could have taken measures to protect himself, and project an image of company connectivity, even if he found it tedious and unnecessary. He also could have been more wary. Marcus belongs to a generation of young African-Americans who have naively bought into the idea that whites are of no danger to them. These young people, having been reared in a post-Civil Rights world in which they’ve always shared classrooms with whites, are not equipped with the self-protective distrust of white intentions that was necessary for their fore bearers’ survival. But, despite this, unfortunately for him, the die had been cast. He had been already been judged. Hence, Marcus was thrown to the wolves based on a single white manager’s perception of him.

Now to my point: Shortly after being hired, I reached out to Marcus on both the social (regularly scheduled lunches and frequent conversations) and professional level. To the best of my ability, I’ve also provided some degree of counseling/advice/commiseration to the brother. Up until now, this has been done in an informal manner. On many occasions, I’ll simply drop by Marcus’ cube and say, “Let’s walk and talk for a minute,” to let him know about things I’d been hearing, or to check on his status. These experiences have brought me to the conclusion that our people need to develop formal networks for dealing with workplace frustrations. I regret that Marcus and I weren’t a part of a larger effort to help black men and women navigate the treacherous waters of the workplace. Imagine a scenario in which Marcus, when confronted by the artifice of his supervisor, could immediately go to a group of seasoned brothers who could give him much better direction than I. I don’t want to give the impression that this experience has permanently harmed Marcus, far from it. I’ve told him honestly that I believe he has what it takes to run an organization like the one we work for, and with greater fairness and efficiency. I still believe this. But I can also easily envision someone being scarred by an experience like this. Not everyone has his determination.

There’s also one final thing to keep in mind: like it or not, to some extent, we’re all in Marcus’ shoes. Despite the fact that some of us are educated, experienced and older, all that separates many us from having our corporate dreams deferred is the whim of a white employer who never really had much use for us anyway.

The Return

2008-09-21T11:03:00.009-05:00

A great deal has happened since I last bothered to post. I've been busy, but that's not really the reason that I haven't posted. Frankly, I haven't posted because I haven't seen the point. For months, the thought of blogging has exhausted me. I've felt that posting my opinions wouldn't make any difference, anyway, given the relatively small reach I possess, and the fact that things seem to be getting worse and worse for the "average" American.

Still, I hate that I missed out on opportunities to strike while the political iron was still hot re: Obama defeating Hillary, Billy Bob Clinton's playing the perplexed pied piper after having lost his loyal black following, the misplaced anger of Hillary's supporters, McCain's sad and steady dismantling of his "maverick" image, his cynical pick of a wild-eyed, irresponsible, Northern redneck for a running mate, whites' predictable response to Sarah Palin, Obama's (nearly) perfect campaign run, etc.

I also hate that I neglected to hurl timely criticism at the Olympics and Michael Phelps Mania, note the untimely passing of Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes, and bitch about gas prices and the downward spiraling economy.

Having noted this, I have to admit that on a number of occasions, I've strongly considered deleting Blaxplanation altogether. As I mentioned, I just haven't been able to see the point. Sometimes, when I post I feel as if it's just an exercise in narcissism. It wasn't until I reminded myself of how many obligations (to family, friends, myself, former classmates, co-workers, my fraternity) that I've turned my back on in the past that I reconsidered erasing all that I've done and getting back to work. So, I'm trying to look at this as a new beginning. It doesn't matter that this blog isn't turning the world on it's ear. Nor does it matter that, from time to time, my posts are ego-driven. All that matters, for now, is that Blaxplanation is here for me to return to - and maybe that's the only point there needs to be.

Go To Hell, Andy Rooney

2008-01-28T16:45:00.001-06:00

Andy Rooney: You're Still A Negro To Him

Television makes me angry.

These days, whenever the TV is on in my house, it's tuned in to Spongebob Squarepants or the surprisingly cool Backyardigans. Every now and again, however, I'm able to secretly escape the ghetto of children's programming and watch something (supposedly) for adults. Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I was able to watch three shows in their entirety - each of which made me angrier than the program that proceeded it.

The first program was aired on PBS. Usually, public television is a pretty safe bet. I decided to watch American Experience. This installment featured the despicable exploits of one Walter Freeman, the man who popularized the lobotomy. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't surprised at the horrific progression of events that lead a psychiatrist with no surgical training to become a celebrated butcher who routinely destroyed people's brains with a pair of ice picks. I was mortified by the none-too-subtle attempt, on the part of the narrator, to paint this man as a tragic hero. Apparently, although Freeman mutilated thousands of people, including children as young as four years old, and was kind enough to leave a (PLEASE don't access the following link if you do not wish to see disturbing evidence of Freeman's atrocities) photographic record of his crimes against humanity, his is a story of a decent man gone mad with power. As always, when biographers pull this kind of shit, I can't help but wonder if Freeman would get the kid gloves treatment if (here it comes) he were a black man. I'm sorry to have to say it but the only white man in history who seems to be off of white folks' redemption radar is Hitler (and even he has his sympathizers.)

The second program that pissed me off was none other than Real Time With Bill Maher. A bit of disclosure here: I can't stand Bill Maher. First, every single time I see his smug, self-satified, self-righteous face I imagine myself pushing my fist into it. Second, I can't get beyond the time I saw him shamelessly defile himself by flirting on-air with the disgusting, dude-faced Ann Coulter. Third, I can't appreciate the way he shits on people's faith. Only a true asshole would speak so dismissively, so often, of what other people hold dear. Finally, I'm convinced that he, and folks like him, are infinitely more comfortable casting aspersions at the clown currently residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue than they are addressing legitimate social injustice. At any rate, his guests were some random conservative, some self-avowed redneck and DL Hughley. The only times I could manage to distract myself from thoughts of pulling Maher's brain out through his nose were when the always entertaining Dan Savage showed up, and when the redneck, in response to the topic of beef cloning uttered, "When did cows stop fucking?"

Last and least was last night's 60 Minutes. Overall, it was a pretty good show. Of course, for dessert, the producers have tirelessly exhibited the need to serve up a heaping portion of shit pie by giving Andy Rooney undeserved airtime. If you think Flavor Flav is the worst thing on television, you get an 'F.' Among other things, I learned that Andy's family had a live-in maid during the Great Depression and Andy's not terribly worried about an economic downturn. According to him, "I don't know much about economics, but I don't believe we're in a recession, or a depression, whatever the difference is."

If any of you can name me ONE SINGLE INDIVIDUAL on the face of God's Green Earth who gets paid more for doing less, I'll forsake Obama and vote for you when the primaries come to Texas.

The Office of My Familiar

2008-01-16T18:03:00.001-06:00

"I never noticed how phat your ass is, Boss."

My wife is a pharmacist. That means she's got her doctorate (Pharm.D.) and is a nationally recognized and state-certified professional. I'm not simply bragging on my lady here (not that it would score me any points since she stopped reading my blog long ago). I mean, I'm extremely proud of her and I understand the economic and social obstacles that she's had to overcome to accomplish her goals, but the whole reason I'm mentioning it is because of two work-related incidents she's shared with me.

The first was recurring. While we were living in Virginia some years ago, she was working with a pharmacist who happened to be a black male. If any of you can recall my Heathen Manifesto post, he was the Credit to His Race who had two families, and had the temerity to chide her about not belonging to a church. At any rate, she began to notice that as soon as he became comfortable with her, he suddenly lost all traces of his professionalism. Propriety and pretense devolved into frequent and often bizarre inappropriateness. In her eyes, this fall into unsuitable familiarity was precipitated by the fact that she was a black woman. Because she was a "sister," he immediately assumed that he could get away with what one of my Houston frat brothers refers to as, "that ol' bullshit."

Fast forward to the present. My wife works with a Jewish man (let's call him Mike) who is the pharmacist-in-charge. The two of them are the regular, nine-to-fivers at her current location. Other pharmacists are often brought in to provide coverage when one of them needs to take off. Recently, an outside pharmacist (let's call him Elroy) was hired to take over for Mike when he had a doctor's appointment. For about a half-an-hour, Mike, Elroy and my wife worked together with seamless professionalism. As soon as Mike left for his appointment, Elroy asked, loudly and to no one in particular, "Alright! Where the party at?" In her words, "This Negro thought that the pharmacy transformed into a nightclub just because a white man went to a doctor's appointment."

She's not alone. EVERY SINGLE black female professional that I know has had to endure (or is doing so currently) some kind of come on, ignorant comment, leer or improper gesture from some brother that gets just a little too familiar. Now, before you rush to judgment about me, I recognize that this is not endemic to my people. Men being what they are, women in general have historically been exposed to both sexual and non-sexual workplace incongruities. Having acknowledged that, I still find it regrettable that some brothers just can't check that player shit at the office door. If I had a dollar for every complaint I've heard, from my wife, sister, mother, and women friends, about some failed attempt at workplace pimpery, I'd move my family to the Hamptons. If any of you would-be office Lotharios are reading this, my suggestion to you would be to focus on your God-damned job. Apart from having to occasionally bear witness to some of the shittiest game I've ever seen, I'm tired of sisters at my job regarding me with suspicion just because I smile at them and say "Hello."

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: I realize it was wrong to take a pic of a genial, professional black couple and contaminate it with that unfortunate quote, but, like the recently-removed editor of Golfweek, I'm just trying to generate some readership.

"Slave For A Day"

2008-01-11T09:36:00.000-06:00

On occasion, unchecked white liberal guilt can (evidently) be mined for entertainment purposes.

A Haitian theme park called, appropriately enough, Memory Village, could be in the works for whites who seek to assuage their angst over their ancestors' brutality. The 'Slave for a Day' attraction is sure to appeal to the above-mentioned guilty libs, sadomasochists with unresolved Negro issues and, considering the activity ends with a full out rebellion, anyone who wants to get to get his or her Toussaint L'Ouverture on. From the article:

"They [visitors] can choose if they want to be spectators or participants. If they take part, they will be given traditional African clothing and then 'kidnapped', chained and forced to march to a slave ship in a mock crossing of the Atlantic.

They will then be part of a re-enactment where slaves were taken to market to be sold and later broken down with torture in quarantine and put to work on a plantation.

Towards the end of the 12-hour stay, visitors will take part in a recreation of the slave rebellion which eventually led to the establishment of Haiti."

The founders of the "project," a married American couple named Ron and Carla Bluntschli, have already raised a considerable amount of money and need about $700K to make their dream a reality.

Where to begin? I basically had two separate and distinct reactions when I initially read about this. The first was disgust. Some of you have seen Michael Moore's brilliant documentary Roger and Me, which chronicles, from Moore's unique perspective, the deleterious effect the closing of a GM plant has on residents of Flint, Michigan. For many, the most disturbing part was when a local woman who is selling rabbits, "For Food or Pets," smashes a rabbit's skull (apparently it didn't make the pets list) and skins it in preparation for a meal. For me, the sickest part was when members of Flint's upper class, while most of Southeastern Michigan disintegrated around them, decided to get all prissied up to spend a night in an abandoned prison. If memory serves me correctly, some of those bastards were literally walking around old cell blocks with half-full martini glasses. I've never been a fan of ghetto tourism in any of its forms. Apart from the obvious stupidity of those who promote and take part in it, it perpetuates the insulting idea that the socioeconomic position of an entire segment of the population can be fully understood simply by throwing on some prison stripes or submitting to a questionable form of "torture." If visitors to Memory Village really want the authentic slave experience perhaps they should allow Ron and Carla to kill their children, rape their wives and daughters, abduct them and everyone they know and drag them to a foreign, hostile, indecipherable country, steal, plunder, inhabit and force them to forsake their motherland, destroy their entire familial structure, enslave them for approximately 400 years, subject them to sub-second class citizenry status for about a hundred years after they release them and THEN chide them for having the temerity to bring any of it up. Yeah. That'd be about square (thanks to Breez for reminding me of this wonderful line).

The second reaction I had to this story was one of unabashed amusement. This is because I can imagine some Haitian kid named Hennrick getting paid to gleefully dole out daily beatings to Memory Village guests. I can imagine Hennrick announcing that today's revolution will begin promptly at 3pm. I imagine Hennrick's friends and family regarding him with utter disbelief when he reveals to them what he does for a living. I also imagine Hennrick being besieged by requests for dates from some of the very people whose asses he's spent the last few hours whipping. Now that I think of it, I've probably got a few dollars lying around the house somewhere to donate to Ron and Carla.

I Read The News Today, Oh Boy

2008-01-04T12:05:00.001-06:00

"I guess you didn't plan on me whippin' that third-place ass in Iowa, huh?"

Despite what ingratiating, pin-headed Uncle Thomases like Michael Steele would have us believe, if the 2008 Iowa Caucus has shown us anything it is that Obama just might have a shot. His preliminary encapsulated Iowa victory isn't exactly celebration-worthy but it does lend the Obama machine some short-lived credibility. While it isn't exactly shocking that he managed to get the drop on Edwards and Hillary, it is somewhat surprising, considering all of the ground he had to make up over the last few months.

Now come the inevitable attacks, from the Clinton and Edwards camps, on Barack Obama and his seeming lack of leadership ability, his admitted marijuana use, or his...well, we'll just see. But you'd better believe that between now and New Hampshire John's and Hillary's hatchet people will be engaging in some curious political alchemy in an attempt to transform a likable and capable opponent into a potential national liability. Unsurprisingly, the Clinton folks have been the first to hint that things are going to get nasty. Oh well. I guess attacking someone else is easier than convincing the voting public that you actually possess the experience that you fault others for not having.

Taking A Position

2008-01-02T15:58:00.001-06:00

..because I'll be damned if I'm going to be on the wrong side of history.

OK. Here's the thing: I despise politicians. I always have. They'll say and do whatever they have to say and do in order to manipulate the public into voting for them. At the national level, each party is so compromised that one is likely to believe Ralph Nader when he says that the only difference between Republicans and Democrats is the velocity with which their knees hit the ground when the corporations come calling. Having admitted that, I have to reveal to you that I've decided to back Obama.

Why? Two reasons. The first is because I have no use for any of the other candidates. A person who takes up the moniker Another Conflict Theorist wouldn't be going Republican for obvious reasons. That leaves the Dems and one or two independents. Unsurprisingly, they're an especially feckless, unimpressive lot. Here's how the main "contenders" stack up as I see it..

John Edwards - For all intents and purposes, Edwards is playing the role of The Great White Hope. Joe Biden isn't on anyone's radar (fuck him for jumping in bed with the credit card companies a few years ago, anyway) and Bill Richardson and Chris Dodd are running with about as much conviction as Master P mustered for his turn on Dancing With The Stars. So John Edwards finds himself in the unique position of being the only white man in his party with a snowball's chance in Hell of getting the nomination. Point blank, Edwards is full, to the brim, of shit. This is a rich man who has benefited from white privilege his entire life. He's proclaimed that he intends to confront the problem of American poverty head on. That sounds fantastic but are we really supposed to accept the idea that a man with his pedigree will work to level the economic playing field for minorities and the poor at the expense of those like himself?

Dennis Kucinich - Kucinich would have gotten my vote in undergrad. Back then, my only concern was backing a horse who regurgitated all of the anti-right liberalism that I'd accepted as the gospel. Nowadays, when I look at Kucinich, I see a certified loon who has publicly expressed a belief in ghosts and alien visitation. Seriously. Those are the things that give me pause. Admittedly, I like his views on just about everything. However, if I have a problem with this self-proclaimed "faith healer" running for the highest office in the land I might have a problem with Kucinich's campaign. I tend to vote NO on quackery.

Ron Paul - A lot of people who should know better seem to be enamored of Ron Paul. I don't get it. Whenever I run into a black person who digs Paul I have to fight back the urge to shake the shit out of them and scream, "He's a fucking libertarian you idiot!" Libertarians, who are overwhelmingly white & male, view the government as this country's predominant oppressive agent. It's the government (taxing them into oblivion, legislating what Americans can and can't do with their property, over-regulating their businesses, creating special protections for minorities, etc.) that is the primary obstacle to their self-fulfillment. If you don't share this worldview you would be (forgive me) a God-damned fool to support Paul (btw, I'd like to know where these broke Paul-pushers will be sending their kids to school AFTER their champion eliminates public funding of education). Also, I'd like to know if Ron Paul's black supporters are OK with his belief that the government's role in addressing American racism ended in 1870 with the 15th Amendment, or his discussing "property rights" while he's supposed to be answering a question about the 1964 Civil Rights Act. By the way, Paul's acceptance of a campaign contribution from the racist organization Stormfront doesn't really bother me. Candidates can't keep track of every single dollar that they receive from donors. My issue is that Stormfront decided Paul was worth supporting in the first place. Obviously, Stormfront sees something in Paul (opposition to Hate Crime penalties, Affirmative Action, etc.) that they like.

Hillary Clinton - Simply put: Hillary's carpet bagging ass is pretending like she's got some hard won experience simply because she's fucked a president. This I don't mind so much. She's using the only leverage she has to attempt to distance herself from Obama. What does make me sad about her campaign is the fact that so many black folks - particularly black women - are supporting it. Recently, she's been parading out a host of famous black people, some quite impressive (others not so much) to counter the Oprah Factor. To that end, Andrew Young came out publicly against Obama, saying that the Senator isn't ready for the rigors of the office. Honestly, an old guard, 'We Shall Overcome' Negro like Andrew Young ought to be ashamed of himself for dismissing Obama because he "doesn't have a support network." Hey Drew, if you've bothered to look down from your Civil Rights status quo perch to notice that Obama might need some help, why don't you offer up your considerable services? Don't you believe it, folks. Andrew Young, like many of the acquiescent Civil Rights Era lap dogs who decorate the White House lawns of Democratic presidents, is a bought and paid for chump who just isn't comfortable with a brother who didn't come up through the same ranks as he. Furthermore, I'm also beginning to take Clinton's questioning of Obama's "electability" personally. You're a fool if you don't believe that some of her jabs (on his admitted use of drugs, on his crack/cocaine sentencing stance, on his handgun control stance, etc.) are racially motivated. The Clinton campaign has even gone so far as to suggest that Obama might have dealt drugs as well. That tells me all I need to know about where she's coming from.

The second reason I've decided to back Obama is because he's a Not Terribly Despicable Candidate Who Happens to be a Black Man and Also Happens To Have A Legitimate Shot at Winning the Presidency. That's right. Up until now, whenever my father told me that I probably wouldn't see a black president in my lifetime I accepted his words on face value. Some time within the last few months it occurred to me that my father could be wrong (wouldn't be the first time - let's just say that backing Beta over VHS doesn't even crack the top 100). Frankly, Americans of every stripe seem to really like Obama. He's positive, charismatic and appears to embody the racial unity upon which many place their hopes for the future.

Sadly, I can't count the number of black folks that I've run into who insist that they're not going to vote for Obama just because of the color of his skin. They insist that they're voting on principle. These are the same people who voted for Bill Clinton primarily because he played the saxophone on Arsenio Hall's show. Where was all the moral conviction when the libidinous, Welfare Reform Act signing, bombing-while-being-impeached hustler was getting lap dances in the Oval Office? It's fine to vote your conscience but I can't help but wonder how rabid the black support for Obama would be if he had a history of shit-talking, sax playing and cheating on his wife.

At any rate, though I'm hopeful, I'm not holding my breath for an Obama victory. He's got some considerable obstacles in front of him. I just think it would be a real shame if he couldn't quite get there because he didn't get enough support from his own people.

The Interview

2007-12-23T08:23:00.000-06:00

"Offering him a job, but now he don't want it. DAMN, it feels good to see people up on it!"
- Biz Markie (The Vapors)

I've finally moved from the theater of academia to the starting line of the rat race.

Last week, after the semester ended, I interviewed for HR positions with two organizations. I had decided early last fall that I would likely take some time off from school to focus on finding a "Real Job." The woman who supervises my internship suggested that I apply for everything in sight because I could benefit from the interview experience. I happily ignored this advice because a) I've been on more interviews than Mike Wallace and b) I didn't want to waste valuable time being interviewed for positions that I knew I wouldn't accept. Frankly, at this point, I'd like to think that I'm beyond begrudgingly working a pointless, non-career 9-to-5. After all, I'm not spending evenings and weekends cramming Total Quality Management theory into my skull to work at the Piggly Wiggly.

To this end, I put on a suit and tie and paraded myself in front of two prospective employers like a smiling, agreeable show pony. Because I'm not especially fond of the entire process, I made sure both interviews occurred on the same day - one at 9am and the second at 12:30pm. The morning of, I woke up at about 5:30am to begin my short but necessary pre-interview ritual.

The first thing I do is finalize a list of questions that I intend to ask. Many people overlook this part. I don't. The questions that you ask an interviewer are just as important as those that they ask you, and can differentiate you from other candidates. Also, pointed questions (about the company's mission, future, etc.) establish that you're not just some chump looking for a job.

The second thing I do is pick out some music to listen to during my drive. This part may seem inessential to some of you but I find that I need to listen to something that puts me at ease while I'm on my way to having my worth evaluated by strangers. That day, I chose Amy Winehouse's Back to Black which, despite her propensity for rapid and public self-destruction, is, for my money, far and away the best album of the year (apologies to Talib Kweli and Ghostface).

To make a long story short, I was completely unimpressed by the first place. They kept me waiting (close to an hour!) before they brought me up to be interviewed (I later found out they had me scheduled for the wrong time). Also, they asked position-specific questions about which I was clueless. Finally, I was dressed MUCH better than were the folks conducting the interview, which, to my mind, is inexcusable. If they're mailing it in during the interview process how will they perform if I actually work for them?

The second interview went almost seamlessly. Honestly, except for a minor hiccup, I couldn't have scripted it better. I met with a panel of four. I did my thing: beautifully attached my own personal philosophy to the mission of their organization, answered all of their questions creatively, credibly and without hesitation and floored them with follow-up inquiries. Then, from the Senior Compensation Analyst, came the inevitable "compliment" that white folks just can't seem to stop giving some of us: "Wow. You're really articulate!" I was in a bad spot. On the one hand, I really wanted this position. On the other, I've NEVER allowed white folks to get away with that one. What to do? As is my tendency, I cordially responded with, "Thank you! So are you!" Me and my big mouth.

After I left, I sped home and peeled myself out of my corporate armor. Much to my surprise, I received a call from the first place. Despite my initial feeling about the interview and my inexperience, they offered me the position. Wow. I told them I'd have to consider it and get back to them. Not two hours later, the second place called and wanted me to come in, as soon as I could, for a follow-up interview. I told them I was off the next day and could come in whenever they had time to see me. So, the following day, I met with the HR Director. Roughly three hours after the conclusion of the second interview, I received a call from the recruiter who'd been serving as the contact person for the second employer. She told me that I'd been so impressive that they wanted to hire me at a HIGHER RATE than the range I'd been told of.

Needless to say, I accepted the second offer, but not without certain assurances. I've learned that the manner in which one enters an organization is important. You can't negotiate salary, benefits, vacation, perks, etc. after you start in a position. These things need to be decided beforehand. As a business-savvy friend of mine is fond of saying, "They're not going to rescind the offer just because you ask for more money." So, as awkward as it felt, I told them that my acceptance hinged on my being allowed to take a paid vacation in March. This they found satisfactory.

I'm still smiling as I type this.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sulks

2007-12-06T19:12:00.000-06:00

Peace Everyone,

I apologize for not visiting your wonderful blogs, and for taking a hiatus from my own blogging lately. I'm in the midst of a depressing combination of paper writing and studying for finals.

Wish me luck. I need it.

The Day of the Geechee

2007-11-28T11:04:00.000-06:00

"You know the damage one ignorant Negro can do?" - Sgt. Vernon Waters (A Soldier's Story)

Every now and then it just can't be avoided.

It happened to me when I was in undergrad. One afternoon, a quartet of us made a donut run to a local Minneapolis pastry shop. Our little syndicate consisted of three black dudes and a cool ass white guy named Dave. While we were ordering, to the amusement of the white patrons, and to the mortification of Dave and me, my two black buddies started a heated argument about which of them had the biggest lips.

It happened to me shortly after I began working. One day, while I was on my lunch break, back when I was unfortunate enough to be living in Milwaukee, I was walking to a Chinese restaurant with a diverse group of coworkers. Along came Troy, a good brother who I knew from a previous job, who spotted me and shouted (at the TOP of his lungs) "MY NIGGA!!!"

It happened to me again this morning. I was getting suggestions from some of the women in my office about Christmas gifts to buy the spouse when a sister (a real country gal and the only other black person in the department) chimes in with, "Well, you might have to niggerate her a gift and make it yourself. You know what I mean? Niggerate?"

I'm sorry to put it this way but if you're black, you will occasionally have to endure another black person coming along and just flat out embarrassing the shit out of you. There's just no circumventing it. I'm not referring to the occasional mangled syntax or inappropriate application of slang either. I'm talking about the kind of migraine-inducing buffoonery that will make you question whether or not the Civil Rights era really occurred and for what, if anything, tens of thousands of freedom fighters gave their lives.

In my experience, these cringe-worthy guffaws are usually committed by those lost, unconscious souls who my wife simply refers to as "The Element." Yes, indeed. Each one of us knows who she means. Those brothers and sisters who talk and laugh the loudest, curse and fight the oftenest, and are the first to be interviewed by your local news station. We all recognize them when we see them. Those hairstyles. Those clothes. The names that they give their children.

The reaction of the black middle class to the actions of the Element is, perhaps, best summed up by the antagonist of one of my favorite movies, A Soldier's Story. Sergeant Vernon Waters who, for my money, is one of the most fascinating and conflicted characters in the history of American cinema, has decided to focus his efforts on culling from his ranks black officers that he finds intolerable. His venomous outlook is perhaps best summed up when he speaks to CJ, one of his victims. "See, the Black race can't afford you no more. There used to be a time, we'd see someone like you singin', clownin', yassuh-bossin'... and we wouldn't do anything. Folks liked that. You were good. Homey kind of nigger. When they needed somebody to mistreat, call a name or two, they paraded you. Reminded them of the good old days. Not no more. The day of the Geechee is gone, boy. And you're going with it."

Sergeant Waters, who represents the so-called New Negro - black folks who through sweat and effort negotiated their way into the middle class - is convinced that the Element must be wiped from the face of the Earth. He believes this because he views their existence as a discomfiture and a threat to his upwardly mobile ambitions. Moreover, he is fixated on the possibility that (God Forbid!) the white man for whom he works will lump him in with the Element. White folks often have difficulty distinguishing between hardworking black folks like himself and ne'er-do-wells like CJ. This won't do. So, instead of attacking the real enemy, the oppressive agent that has historically ground him and his people into dust, he attacks those who languish at the bottom of the pile.

Which brings me to my point. Like it or not, every time we bristle at the regrettable exploits of poorer and/or less educated blacks than ourselves, we side with the Sergeant. If we're embarrassed by the ill-considered actions and words of certain members of the black underclass then perhaps we're the ones with the problem. Perhaps the next time I find myself wincing when another black person opens his or her mouth, I'll step back and take a good hard look at myself.

True Indeed

2007-11-22T11:55:00.000-06:00

Peace,

I came across this and thought it fitting for our national "holiday." Enjoy your tryptophan-induced comas.

On Vanity Deaths, Larry David and Jesus' Good Fortune..

2007-11-14T13:13:00.000-06:00

On May 5, 2087, the moon's first colonists are paid a visit.

OK. So this week I was dead set on creating the best, most thought-provoking, stylishly written post in Blaxplanation's short history. Then I realized that I'm kind of lazy and that, like many Americans, I'd rather watch television than do any real thinking. So this freestyle is what those of you who choose to read this blog are left with. Enjoy it if you can.

As most already know, Kanye West's mother, Donda West, died a few days ago. It is suspected that Dr. West's death was caused by post-op complications after she endured a botched plastic surgery. The only photo that I've seen of Jan Adams, the doctor who performed the surgery, is a mugshot that was taken after he had been arrested for a DWI. At the time of this writing, the portrait that is being painted of Adams is that of a Beverly Hills Butcher who has a history of disfiguring his patients.
One of the most disheartening parts of this unfortunate incident is the criticism of Dr. West that I've been hearing for the past couple of days. Supposedly, Donda West was initially advised not to undergo surgery because of concerns for her health. She, apparently, balked at the idea that she would have to postpone her surgery and sought another opinion - that of Dr. Jan Adams. I've spoken with more than one person who feels that Donda West brought this on herself. They liken her demise to that of those who, emboldened by their own "celebrity," foolishly court death. Her's, according to this opinion, was little more than a vanity death. Also, she was an educated woman. Shouldn't she have known better?
Well, to me, even if the rumors of her being forewarned are true, this is a pretty rotten and judgmental rationale. Was the decision to ignore a doctor's advice and press on with elective surgery a good one? Obviously not. But most of us have acted irrationally at some point during our lives and are fortunate enough to not have died as a result. I don't doubt that one of the main reasons that some people feel this way has to do with the fact that Dr. West elected to have plastic surgery. Many people assume the moral high ground when it comes to this procedure. They claim to believe that one shouldn't alter one's appearance if one doesn't have to. This strikes me as oddly judgmental, considering the fact that the number of elective plastic surgeries climbs significantly every year. Also, many people in general, and women in particular, have a terrible self-image when it comes to their bodies. We're living in a world in which the quick fix has become the norm so it shouldn't surprise us that a wealthy woman, doctorate or no, would find a way to get a perfunctory tummy tuck. I guess I also shouldn't find it surprising that some folks would find a way to blame the victim.

According to a newly-released study from the Pew Charitable Trusts, if you're a young black person, you're broker than folks were at your age. The Washington Post reported that - while the black/white income disparity has decreased - black Americans are actually less prosperous now than their parents were. No wonder my mother is still mailing me birthday cards with money in them. So much for the growing black middle class I've been waiting so anxiously to join.

On Sunday night the last two minutes of the season finale of Curb Your Enthusiasm moved into that rare stratosphere of comedic genius.

A couple of representatives from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints paid me a visit a few days ago. I wasn't expecting them. However, after I found out who it was, I answered the door for two reasons. The first is because I'm a relatively hospitable dude. The second is because, like Inigo Montoya, I've been waiting years to say something to the next Mormon proselytizer that I came across. Here's exactly how it went down:
LDS: *Ding, dong*
ACT (answering door with the Book of Mormon in hand): Hello! Are you guys LDS?
LDS (looking genuinely surprised): Ha! Yes sir we are!
ACT (chomping at the bit): Great! Well I know why you're here and I just want to say that I've had many conversations with members of the LDS church. Now, before you begin, I think I should tell you that you might want to consider using your considerable powers of persuasion on someone else.
LDS (trudging right along): Well, we've come here to..
ACT (going in for the kill): Oh no. Believe me, I know why you've come - to spread the *tapping meaningfully on the Book of Mormon* Good Word. Well, like I said, I've already heard it and until one of you guys can explain why 2nd Nephi chapter 5 verse 21 - a clear cut celebration of white supremacy - is included in your book of worship then you should probably keep it moving. Take care.

Which brings me to my last thought. If you had to die in order to save the world would you do it? I was about to go to surveymonkey to establish a poll on this when I realized that I didn't need to. It's a no-brainer. Of course most of us would. Only a selfish, misanthropic bastard would choose himself over 6 and half billion people. Why then do the Jesus groupies with whom I occasionally come into contact act as if Jesus did something so noble? He was lucky. If I gave you a choice between a) dying an agonizing death to save the souls of every single person who will ever inhabit the known world, for which you will be eternally recognized and worshiped or b) working for 30 thankless years in a middle management position, which would you choose? That's not even taking into account the fact that millions of people have succumbed to deaths that were at least as tortuous as Jesus' for nothing at all. Am I the only one who feels this way?

The Continuing Saga of a Sociopath

2007-11-09T12:04:00.000-06:00

God help us all.

OJ is in court again. This time it's because he allegedly (read: probably) threatened some dude who stole *cough* set up *cough* some sports memorabilia from him in Vegas. Once more I can feel white America hanging its vengeful hopes on the conviction of OJ Simpleton...I mean Simpson. Once more I can feel the skepticism of black Americans who believe that white folks are simply "out to get" him. I honestly heard one brother say with a straight face, "Man, they just keep on trying to squeeze The Juice." Since I'm now taking my cues from the NAACP and Al Sharpton, and recognizing the official death of the "N-word," I just gave the brother a withering look and responded, "African-American, please."

Actually, I can't say that I didn't see another case coming. Sure, OJ began his post-acquittal life quietly enough - leisurely wiling away the borrowed hours of his miraculous second chance on America's golf courses. Then (cue the theme music to "Jaws") came news that he'd had an altercation or two with one of his white girlfriends. Then came the grotesque, semi-confessional, If I Did It, which, I have to say, was the defiant product of an absolute madman. All of which bring us to now - when I can't watch ESPN without being given up-to-the-minute information on OJ's legal condition.

Make no mistake about it: this will go to trial. I suspect that this time, no matter the verdict, both whites and blacks will be slightly more subdued in their reactions. I doubt I'll see black folks happily dancing around in the street if OJ dodges another bullet (no, really, I actually saw this.) Nor do I expect to see white folks crying while standing in line waiting to check out their groceries (ditto.) After all, this case is noticeably free of murdered white women. White corpses tend to get the populace ginned up. Brown corpses? Not so much. I think that, in part, this explains why African-Americans were so eager to see OJ moonwalk out of the courtroom a free man the first time. When OJ came out "clean" on the other side of that murder case, it was as if black folks were saying, "See, white people? Injustice doesn't feel too good. Does it?"

Blaxplanation Disclaimer: Just so you know, I'm not dismissing the almost certainly OJ-caused deaths of Ron Goldman and Nicole Brown Simpson. I just happen to have noticed that black Americans care as much about them as white Americans do about the unsolved murders of thousands of young black men and women that occur in this country every year. I think that's reasonable. Don't you?

The Tools of Well-Roundedness

2007-11-07T14:02:00.000-06:00

A generally absent but essential part of the conservative diet.

In keeping with the theme from my last post, I'd like to proffer one last confession.

Every now and again, due to an unfortunate combination of boredom and recurring non-sexual sadomasochistic tendencies, I find myself watching the Fox News channel. It's the strangest thing. I'll have just finished viewing another enjoyable rerun of Avatar: The Last Airbender - which, in case you're unaware, is one of the finest dramas on television - when, before I know it, I've flipped the channel to the Right Wing's most popular propaganda vehicle. I've realized that I can only subject myself to the Fox noise machine for ten or fifteen minutes at a time before I have an overwhelming urge to rinse my eyes out with bleach.

Having admitted that, not very long ago I happened to be watching The O'Reilly Factor when it suddenly dawned on me what Bill's biggest problem is. It's not that he's a combative, self-righteous hack with no integrity who's managed to strike gold by telling bigoted, unquestioning Americans exactly what they want to hear (though I do not fault you if you've incorrectly reached this conclusion.) Nor is it that he somewhat successfully cocoons himself by staging "debates" on his show during which he'll regularly tell his opponents to "shut up!"

No. Bill's biggest problem is that he, undoubtedly, has never had his ass thoroughly kicked. I can't tell you what a good, solid beatdown - or the threat of one - will do for your clarity. When one comes face-to-fist with one's own vulnerability, one is forced to re-evaluate things. This realization got me to thinking about other humbling experiences that one should pick up on the road to self-actualization. They are..

a) Heartbreak. I will put this a simply as I can. You are not a fully-formed adult if you haven't had to recover from heartbreak. I mean the kind of heartbreak that strips you of your appetite and your ability to trust, makes you hear songs you've listened to your entire life for the first time and forces you to take a vow of (temporary) celibacy. I'm talking about the kind of heartbreak that makes you question the universe. The kind of heartbreak that makes you regard the source of it with equal and unhealthy parts love and hate. Only after you emerge from this emotional malaise can you consider yourself whole.

b) Having Something of Moderate Value Stolen From You. When I was eight someone broke into our house and stole THE television. I was devastated. When I was ten, someone stole my brand new Schwinn. I was inconsolable. When I was seventeen, it was a very bad year because someone stole close to one hundred dollars from my room. By the time I was twenty-six, when someone broke into my car and relieved me of my stereo, instead of being disappointed I was just happy that they hadn't trashed my car in the process. Being ripped off allows one to put things in perspective.

c) Being the Subject of Ridicule. When I was sixteen, I was riding the bus to my job one day when a kid got on the bus with two very attractive female companions. Shortly thereafter, and for the remainder of my trip, they all took turns looking at me and laughing uncontrollably. There was NO mistake that I was the source of the laughter. When I finally reached my destination and walked past them to debus (I find it intolerably elitist that one can say "deplane" but not "debus") the laughter escalated into a full out howl. To this day I don't know why they were laughing at me. What I do know, is that it wasn't the first or last time and that I've managed to get on with my life, and form thicker skin, after each occurrence.

d) Being Fired or Laid Off. Last Friday, I was responsible for overseeing the removal of an incompetent employee from the building - a regrettable but necessary part of the HR process. She was canned for unfailingly screwing up the payroll. She was given six months and she never managed to flawlessly negotiate the numbers. As I helped her carry her things out to her car, it occurred to me that once the embarrassment and sting of rejection wore off, she would do well to learn from this and move on. Many of us have been fired for far less than screwing up folks' paychecks. I've been fired in the past for what I thought at the time was no good reason. Many of us have. It forces us to regroup. This isn't an altogether bad thing.

e) Being Temporarily Uninsured. It might do wonders for your outlook to temporarily experience the pain of roughly 16% of Americans. It might, for example, lead you to believe that a single-payer health care coverage system is at least worth discussing.

f) Going Without a Car. A good friend of mine leases his cars and trades them in for newer models every couple of years. I'm driving the same '99 Toyota Camry now that I'll be driving in 2010. I haven't yet reached the point at which I'm used to the idea that I actually own a car that can't be repossessed. I didn't get my license until I was twenty. I couldn't afford to buy my first car until I was twenty-four. My friend John and I walked home from my high school graduation and I came this close to walking to my senior prom. Going without a car all of those years made me thankful for what most people take for granted.

g) Having to Choose Between Two or More Equally Important Needs. I've had to go to the market and choose between produce and deodorant so often that I didn't even recognize it as a sign of deprivation until after I got married. Yet, in the midst of this want was forged an uncanny capacity for self-denial. One thing that being broke provides is a remarkable ability to prioritize.

h) Not Being Good Enough. A commonly accepted Americanism is that if a person practices and puts forth enough effort (and believes!) she will succeed in whatever it is she does. It makes us feel good about ourselves to accept this as the Gospel. Unfortunately, it is not always true. Sometimes folks simply aren't good enough. There's something to be said for giving it your all and coming up short. Look what it did for Jimmy Carter.

i) Having to Issue an Old-Fashioned "I Take All The Blame" Apology. Surely you've heard them. Those "apologies" that are invariably issued after someone says or does something repulsive that make it seem as if you're the one with the problem because of how you interpreted what he said or did. Or those culprits who issue non-committal apologies for "what happened" and not "for the shit that I actually did." What I'm referring to is when a person who has clearly fucked up says, clearly, that he fucked up. What happened to that kind of apology? We all make mistakes. I believe that being put in a situation in which we're forced to publicly recognize a blunder builds character.

I've built this list from my own experiences. There isn't anything I've included that I haven't had to endure at one time or another. My advice to those of you who haven't experienced some of these things is to leave your car unlocked in Gary, Indiana or go to NYC and talk shit to a random Jamaican. Some time after the inevitable repercussions, you may find that you see the world more clearly.

Confessions of a Pseudo e-Revolutionary

2007-11-02T10:46:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, I was watching The Colbert Report when Stephen Colbert said something that struck a nerve. A couple of days after Andrew Meyer's imbecilic "Don't Tase Me, Bro" incident made headlines, Colbert brilliantly referred to the apathy of the students who bore witness to the spectacle as "solitarity" and skewered the current generation of conscientious objectors as slackers who equate blogging with authentic activism.

Try as I might, I still haven't managed to jettison Colbert's criticism from my thoughts. Frankly, I think this is because I mostly agree with him. These days, as I begin my gradual slide into Pater Familias complacency, I look back on the righteously angry youth that I was and ask myself, "What happened?"

There comes a time in a man's life when he must simply face the fact that, if he hasn't completely sold out, he has certainly bought in. For me that time is now. Sometime between Public Enemy's ascent and Soldier Boy's current domination of the airwaves, a defeated worker drone with a burgeoning pot belly replaced a molotov cocktail throwing Marxist. The 17-year-old version of myself wouldn't spit on the current me if I were on fire. So humor me if you will while I list a few of the reasons why I'm no longer eligible for membership in the Black Panther Party.

1) I like Elvis. I know, I know. He appropriated black musicality. He's alleged to have said, "The only thing black people can do for me is buy my music and shine my shoes." And while it is highly unlikely that he ever did utter that phrase, he is the predominant symbol of how black Rock and Roll was co-opted by greedy, soulless white record executives. Still, despite my best intentions, I like the dude's music. Always have. For sake of disclosure, I also like Elton John, Frank Sinatra, and Johnny Cash. Wait. It gets worse..

2) I don't like The Roots. This one stings because I often lament the dearth of unsampled music and genuinely talented mcs in current hip hop. And, while I recognize Black Thought as a gifted lyricist and the Roots as a legitimate band, their albums just leave me cold. I've tried (believe me) to like each of their releases beginning with the oft-lauded Things Fall Apart. It hasn't worked. It probably wouldn't work if I listened to Game Theory in North Philly with a cheesesteak in my hand wearing a backpack and an okayplayer t-shirt. By and large I find this regrettable.

3) I have several relatively close friends who are white Republicans. Why is this you ask? Because they're decent, respectful people. As I've admitted before, I tend to prefer them over their liberal counterparts. When we first started hanging out, they would diligently describe to me the wonders of the conservative universe and I would unfailingly describe to them how full of shit they were. Now we occasionally get together to discuss sports and resume building over black Russians. To my compromised mind, this is progress.

4) I'm infinitely more exhausted than I am angry these days. I, like many people, am besieged from every angle by so many obligations that I can't imagine fighting any form of power anywhere. Whenever unrefined bigotry issues forth from the mouth of some random dummy I just feel like taking a nice nap. I do not see this changing any time in the near future.

5) Finally, and perhaps most tellingly, I like shopping. I enjoy buying a nice pair of slacks and the joy that I receive from finding a good deal must be akin to what a ragged, desperate prospector felt when he washed mud away from his first gold nugget. But that's not all. I also tend to think of myself as an extremely fashionable guy. I own a great number of shoes, Project Runway is one of my favorite television programs and I anxiously look forward to season four. The seed for this disgusting tendency toward consumerism was planted long ago when a pretty girl told me she liked my outfit one day. "Nice clothes," I thought, "must make the girls like you." Over the years, the seed has sprouted into a Redwood.

To those legitimate rabblerousers among you who assumed you were in good company, I offer my humblest apologies. Although my inner black panther has not been fully usurped by a corporate fat cat I fear that it is only a matter of time. Do yourselves a favor and make a clean break from me now. I do not share Michael Vick's optimism. It is unlikely that I will redeem myself.

More Bad Noose

2007-10-28T10:58:00.001-05:00

Coming to a city near you..

I don't know about you but I'm patiently waiting to receive mine.

Maybe I'll get one early one morning when I open up the door to my office. Perhaps I'll see one hanging from a lamp post outside of my window. Maybe I'll find one when I open up my locker. Perhaps I'll be driving past a construction site and see a couple of them hung across a forklift. Maybe I'll be opening up a package and find one lovingly placed just underneath the tissue wrap. Or perhaps I'll be fortunate enough to see one draped gingerly around the neck of a statue.

Yesterday, two African-American NYC Parks employees, one of whom happened to be suing the City for discrimination, found nooses wrapped around the collars of their clothing. This is the latest in a string of post Jena 6 march incidents involving nooses used against blacks in a threatening manner. Certainly, this isn't anything new. Historically, demonstrations of black solidarity and demands for justice, or perceived strides in black equality have always been met by fearful intimidation tactics on the part of those who seek to entrench themselves in the white supremacist status quo.

The unimaginative bigots responsible for hanging these nooses know exactly what they're doing. They seek to disrupt the social equilibrium of their black targets. They know that some noose recipients will be shaken but most will be forced into a position in which they become distrustful of nearly all of the whites with whom they work or fraternize. They know that black people will begin to question the significance of even the most innocuous comment or act by a white person. Further, they realize that dimwitted copycats will follow their example and begin decorating offices and lockers around the country with similar objects of hate.

Whatever the case, I suggest that my black readers be on the lookout for their nooses. You can expect them to arrive shortly after you challenge institutional racism to any degree or assert your right to be treated with respect. My hope is that you'll be able to recognize the sheer cowardice of the act and regard it for what it is: a manifestation of pure, unadulterated fear.

The Taboo That Isn't

2007-10-25T20:00:00.001-05:00

"Damn, I wish THOSE bad boys would come out and play."

Today, a white woman with whom I work (and happen to have a good on-the-job relationship) asked me an interesting question. We were joking around about the idea of Suzanne Somers digging around in the ashes of her home looking for Botox and a thighmaster (poor taste, I know) when she suddenly asked me point blank, "If you were single would you date a white woman?" Now, I don't believe she was asking me this question because she's interested in me. She could be but I doubt it. I just think she finally reached the point at which she felt comfortable enough with me (it happens with many white people I've learned) to broach the subject of race and interracial dating.

In any event, I felt comfortable enough with her to give her my honest reply: "No. I don't think I would." As soon as she heard my answer her face sunk and she could not hide her disappointment. Again, I don't think this was because she's digging me. I think it has more to do with her assumption that, because I'm a relatively cool dude, I'm educated, and I'm familiar with most of the major pop cultural references that white people frequently access (for example, I happen to know that white guys within a certain age range absolutely LOVE the movie The Big Lebowski and I've made more than one white bartender go apeshit simply by asking for a "Caucasian") I would be able to "see beyond race."

I certainly didn't get any joy out of giving her a response that she didn't want to hear. Just because I author a race-conscious blog doesn't mean I dislike white people or that I get off on shunning them. After I told her that I just couldn't do it, I explained to her the unimpeachable logic behind my answer. It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I find black women more physically attractive. This alone might explain why I would pursue certain relationships but it can't completely eclipse the fact that there are plenty of attractive white women out there too. Neither does it have to do with my understanding of how race operates in this country. I know quite a few outspoken, "pro black," fist-in-the-air militants who have significant others named Heather and Amy (paging Paul Mooney). Also, it has little to do with the loyalty I feel for black women in general. Frankly, as I've told my wife many times, I sincerely believe that, if most white men were checking for black women, it would be a wrap for brothers. "Something New" is actually something quite old. Even though the current focus is usually on black men who "trade up" for white partners, black women have also used white men to elevate themselves socially for years. In his 1916 book From Superman to Man, JA Rogers wrote about black women rejecting black men in favor of white men with hateful expressions like, "Nobody asked for any coal."

No. What I gave her was the absolute truth. At this point in my life, were I single, I wouldn't date white women because I believe that making relationships work is difficult enough without having to overcome significant racial and cultural differences - particularly when it comes to black/white unions. I realize that this sounds like a cop out but I stand by it. I can not imagine a scenario in which I have to defend myself against racist barbs both in my professional and personal lives.

One of my close friends has to do this regularly. He's living with a white woman on the West Coast. When it's just the two of them everything is cool but whenever her friends and family come around he struggles with endearing himself to them while maintaining his dignity and his sanity. It should go without saying that, like I assume of the woman with whom I work, these white people also accept the idea of colorblindness. They claim not to see color. Yet, they consistently question his intelligence, capability and white woman worthiness at every turn. On one occasion, during an argument over how much income hospital emergency rooms generate, his girlfriend's sister tried to convince him that he didn't know what he was talking about (he happens to be a graduate of the top-ranked MHA program in the country and an executive for a major health care system). On another, he found himself at his apartment having to endure a discussion about how considerably lucky he is to be dating his girlfriend. When I told him that comments like these are normal and that he may have been overreacting, he made it clear to me that this wasn't the typical kind of "you'd better take good care of her" protective banter that new boyfriends have to endure. He told me that they made it pretty clear to him that they really couldn't understand why she would be dating someone like him (he also happens to be a big-hearted, intelligent, relatively good looking dude).

This kind of thing wouldn't work for me. I don't particularly care for white liberals - they seem to only be able to accept their black people as charity cases and not as equals - and I can't abide the malignancy of colorblind racism (whenever I have a choice, I prefer my racism to be candidly expressed). Having to sift through that rubbish in my own home would be a deal breaker.

I don't want to make it seem as if I'm disparaging interracial dating. If you're lucky enough to find someone, no matter their color, who can endure you, God bless. I do have two pieces of advice, however, for those of you who are dating "outside." The first is more of a request actually. PLEASE, if you are in an interracial relationship, do folks like me a favor and don't mythologize your bond. I can't stand it when people try to make it seem as if, by dating someone of a different race, they're doing something courageous, and akin to tasting the forbidden fruit. Believe me, that fruit was picked from the tree a LONG time ago. Also don't castigate men or women who belong to the group that you've chosen to avoid and try to make it seem as if they forced you to look elsewhere. If you want to go in another direction that's your choice but there's nothing worse than a brother who dates a white woman because he claims black women don't do this or that. Stop being an Uncle Ruckus and take some ownership of your decision for Christ's sake. And for you women: blanketly smearing black men while you're snuggling up to a white dude is definitely not a good look. Say it with me now, "I'm with Megan (or Jack) because I like Megan (or Jack)." That's all the explanation you need.

Say What?

2007-10-19T17:58:00.000-05:00

Free with every AARP membership

This post is inspired by Cliff's latest freestyle and by the continuing saga of the Black Mamba. I was actually on the cusp of developing a completely different post but, luckily, I visited two of my favorite online destinations and decided to wing it a bit. Here are a couple of things I'm thinking about. I dedicate this to Breez whose great misfortune it is to suffer fools, and to Cliff - I see you sitting on that porch, brother. Keep doing your thing.

Recently, Bill Cosby's been running from talk show to talk show sharing his latest 'This is What's Wrong with Black America' musings - this time in order to promote his new book. I caught a portion of him on Oprah, Meet the Press and Larry King Live and two things became instantly clear to me. The first is that he is losing his vision (no, I literally mean his eyesight). The second is that he is losing his mind.
Some of you may already be familiar with my reaction to Bill's reinvention of himself as a cultural critic so I won't go into that. What I will say is that Cosby has obviously contracted what I like to call "Grandpaitis." Grandpaitis has taken effect when a person reaches a point in his or her life at which he or she suddenly finds it easier to tell everybody EXACTLY what the fuck he or she thinks is wrong with them than it is to say nothing at all. This condition is easy to misidentify. Many people mistake it for "telling it like it is." Still others confuse it with senility. Just for the record, senility is when you forget shit. Grandpaitis is when you forget nothing at all. Hey, this isn't an insult. It happens to many people. My grandfather, who I've mourned to one degree or another every single day since he's been gone, was stricken with an acute case a few years before he passed on. Since my dad's side of the family still nurses that Old School respect for patriarchy, no one really attempted to correct Big Pop when he got you into a corner and told you a few things about yourself that he thought you should know. Far from it. A couple of the things that we did do, however, was keep him away from strangers and from live mics. If Bill Cosby was my grandfather, instead of detailing the shortcomings of poor black people on national television, he would be detailing the shortcomings of my uncle Willie to an audience of about ten or twelve.

I recently saw an extremely disturbing picture of El DeBarge. At this moment, many of you who aren't black are asking yourselves, "Who the hell is El DeBarge?" Those of you who are black are saying, "Where's the picture?" It is here. In it, El is holding on to his little brother Chico for what appears to be dear life. Apparently, Eldra (yeah, I would have gone by El too) DeBarge is one of the many DeBarge brothers to run afoul of the law. He's been battling drug addiction and was recently arrested for domestic abuse. Sad.
El's issues made me ask myself a question that I will now ask you. Who would have thought that of all the eighties black radio mainstays Prince would be the one who aged gracefully? More accurately, Prince (at this point I should probably admit I've been a fan of his for 75% of my life and feel that he is vastly more talented than anyone who's ever attempted to pick up an instrument or sing into a microphone) is aging magnificently while El is looking for a fix, Michael is on self-imposed exile, Whitney is cracked out, and Rick James is gone. I can't say that I saw that coming.

Finally, there's this. I HATE it when people refer derisively to so-and-so as a "one hit wonder." I was at Starbuck's and I overheard one of the cashiers say, of the guy who made that annoying "You're beau-tifuuul" song, "he's just a one hit wonder." Now, as much as I hated that song, I had to think to myself (yes, to myself, I don't have grandpaitis just yet) 'That's one more hit than you've made you smug ignoramus. I'm sure you're in a much better position behind the bar of a Starbuck's than he is wiping his backside with beau-tifuuul royalties.' What I actually said, of course, was "I'll have a large...sorry, a grande caramel latte." I'm sure Bill Cosby would not have been proud.

Edit: I have to admit that some episodes of Grandpaitis are nothing short of brilliant. I found this exchange particularly amusing..
Larry King: Do you support Barack Obama?
Bill Cosby: Do you ask white people if they support white candidates?
Larry King: Ummm..
Bill Cosby: ANSWER THE QUESTION, LARRY!!

Exhibit ∞

2007-10-12T17:45:00.000-05:00

Where is the justice?

This is why.

This is why many of us aren't willing to write Michael Vick off because he killed some dogs.
This is why some of us actually (regrettably) celebrated when OJ got away with murder.
This is why few of us are moved when yet another white woman goes missing.
And this is why, despite criticisms that it was "overkill," tens of thousands of black folks put on black clothes (and many more of us who couldn't make it wore mourning colors in support) moved in on the little town of Jena, LA.

Today, in Panama City, it took an all-white jury 90 minutes to exonerate eight former "boot camp" workers who caused the death of a 14-year-old black boy. The victim, Martin Lee Anderson, died while being detained in a "get tough" children's rehabilitation camp. After being forced to run past the point of exhaustion, Anderson collapsed and was promptly ignored by his captors. He didn't receive the medical help he desperately needed because the group of guards who witnessed him falling to the ground assumed he was "faking" it. They were excused of their criminal negligence because they were simply following the orders of their employers. After a three-week trial, it took only an hour and a half for jurors to conclude that Martin Lee Anderson's life meant absolutely nothing.

When white America informs us day in and day out that our lives, and those of our children, don't matter, we eventually get the point. "Love Us While We Hate You" isn't a slogan that strikes me as catchy.

The New Buffalo

2007-10-10T16:58:00.000-05:00

If only there had been a few of these around during the so-called Black Hawk War.

This won't be one of my typical posts.

A friend of mine sent me an article that I think everyone should read. It was written by Paul Harris for The Observer. Harris writes about how successful gaming operations on Native American reservations have served to increase an already exceptional poverty gap and led to tribal infighting. Many have dubbed casinos the "New Buffalo" because of the role they play in sustaining First Nation Tribes. Ironically, as opposed to driving the New Buffalo to extinction, whites are going to great lengths to preserve it.

For purposes of convenience, I'm posting it here in its entirety. Be forewarned. It is long so if you're anything like my mother-in-law, you'll want to read it in sections.

Paul Harris
Sunday August 19, 2007
The Observer

It is called Indian Country and it exists in tiny patches and forgotten reservations dotted across the face of America. It is home to 2.8m people. One part of Indian Country lies on the prairie behind Bob Lone Elk's trailer home. There, at the end of a dirt road that rides over South Dakota's undulating grasslands, Lone Elk has built a prayer field. It is a simple, private place of a few wooden huts and logs lashed together to provide shade for dancers and singers.

A member of the Oglala Lakota Sioux - who beat General George Custer - Lone Elk lives on the Pine Ridge reservation. He built his prayer field to carry on the Lakota religion. He holds ceremonies here, just as his ancestors did.

Walking through the field, Lone Elk does not look like the stereotypical image of an Indian medicine man. He wears shades, his arms are covered in biker tattoos and his T-shirt bears a Harley-Davidson logo. But when he lifts that shirt his identity is written in livid scars across his chest. For Lone Elk - like many Lakota men - practises the sacred Sun Dance where skewers are pierced through his chest, tied with rope to a tree and then stretched until they rip free. He Sun Danced earlier this year, praying that Lakota traditions would survive, spilling his blood in the prairie dust. 'Why do I do it?' he laughs in a sing-song Indian accent. 'One day I want my grandchildren to do this. I want Lakota ways to go on.'

But Indian Country is no longer just for men like Lone Elk. Or places like Pine Ridge, with its awesome beauty and appalling poverty. For Indians - few of whom use the term Native Americans - are gripped by immense social change that has altered the face of Indian Country. In the wake of new legislation allowing casinos to open on Indian reservations in the Eighties, many tribes have grown rich. Last year Indian gaming earned a staggering $25.5bn. Some tribes now have social issues the Saudi royals might identify with: too many fast cars and no need to work.

Once, Indians were united by marginalisation and poverty. Now they are divided. Like the rest of America, Indian Country is both very poor and very rich. They now own famous brand-name companies such as the Hard Rock Cafe and wield power in the white world that once scorned them. They also now compete with each other and fight among themselves. Indian casinos - dubbed 'the new buffalo' - have raised the question of what it means to be Indian in modern America. Indians have survived hundreds of years of massacre, oppression and racism. But will they survive becoming rich?

Foxwoods casino rises above the surrounding woodland like an enormous temple. It towers into the sky, surrounded by sprawling car parks, and dominates the Connecticut landscape for miles around. It is the biggest casino in the world and it sits on the reservation of the Mashantucket Pequot, a tribe who 25 years ago were impoverished and virtually unknown outside a scrap of tribal land only a handful of them called home. Now they are arguably the richest Indians in America.

Foxwoods has more than 7,400 slot machines and 390 gaming tables. The clattering slots funnel more than $1bn a year into tribal coffers. The casino has three hotels and 40,000 visitors a day. Next year - in its eighth expansion - a new hotel and 4,000-seat theatre will be added.

The Pequot, living on the coast of New England, were among the first tribes to experience white men. They were decimated by disease and the brutal Pequot War in the 1600s, which ended with the tribe being hunted down, its men massacred, its women sold into slavery and the Pequot language banned.

Yet they survived. Finally, allotted a swampy reservation at Mashantucket, they continued to scrape by, inter-marrying with whites or freed slaves. In 1774 they numbered 151. By 1970 just two elderly Pequot remained on the reservation, the rest having dispersed into America. In the Seventies, activists encouraged members to come home, won compensation from the government for land thefts and started new businesses. They tried running a pizza restaurant and selling maple syrup. But when the law was changed to allow Indian tribes to open casinos the Pequot struck it rich. Here, in the heart of the wealthiest state in America, within a few hours' drive of New York and Boston, the tribe's fortunes were transformed.

The Pequot share out Foxwoods's profits. Numbering around 800, each member of the tribe receives $100,000 a year for life from the age of 18. The tribe provides healthcare, pays for college and arranges jobs. The reservation boasts golf courses and gated luxury housing where driveways bristle with expensive cars. The Pequot have built a plush museum to their history and begun a language reclamation project to resurrect a tongue not spoken in decades. The tribe has also tracked down descendants and welcomed them back.

Not surprisingly, the Pequot bask in their success. Take Kimberly Hatcher-White. She had a Pequot great-grandmother - born on the reservation in 1910 - but she herself grew up in tough circumstances in a nearby town. Her mother struggled on a nurse's salary and Hatcher-White had to drop out of college. She worked at McDonald's and as a bus driver. She remembers how the Indian side of the family was discouraged in favour of the black American side. She tells a story of being a child and wanting to play an Indian, not a pilgrim, in a school Thanksgiving play. 'A great aunt told me: "Never tell. Being an Indian is worse than being the n-word,"' she says.

Things are different now. Hatcher-White was enrolled in the tribe in 1997. The Pequot paid for her to finish college. Now she heads the tribal museum. Sitting in her office, she is an American success story. Though she looks black, she has no doubt about her Indian identity. 'I am proud to be part of this tribe. This is where our culture and heritage is.'

One simple story illustrates just how much has changed for the Pequot. Outside the reservation lies a peak called Lantern Hill that was once holy to the tribe, but owned by a quarry firm who strip-mined the mountainside. It is a tale of abuse familiar all over Indian Country, where sacred sites have been mined or developed. But Indian money can now accomplish what moral argument cannot. The Pequot simply bought the offending quarry. Then they closed it and re-employed its workers in Foxwoods. Now they are re-landscaping the mess.

Such power has local whites worried. The Pequot are buying up land around their reservation. After centuries of being abused and marginalised, they now have the upper hand. 'A lot of it is the fear of losing white land to the tribe,' says Hatcher-White. She then pauses, perhaps reflecting on Pequot history, before adding: 'It is ironic, isn't it?'

The Pequot are far from alone in wielding new-found tribal power. There are now 400 Indian casinos across America. Each one brings in money and influence.

The Seminoles are a Florida tribe once hunted to near extinction in the Everglades. Last year, flush with cash, they bought the Hard Rock chain for $965m. In California, too, powerful casino tribes are flexing their muscles. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger initially campaigned with a promise to curb Indian gambling. But once in office - and after certain tribes revealed they were willing to spend millions of dollars to derail a raft of his policy initiatives - Schwarzenegger changed his tune. Even the mighty Governator respects the power of the Indian dollar.

But wealth is a two-edged sword. Indian tribes were at the heart of a scandal that has rocked Washington DC for the past two years. It involved the disgraced lobbyist Jack Abramoff, a shadowy figure close to influential politicians. Six tribes gave him more than $82m to spread about the nation's capital. Unfortunately Abramoff played fast and loose and wound up in jail. Even worse, when his case came to court, it seemed the tribes had got little for their money. Abramoff had referred derisively to them as 'monkeys' and 'troglodytes' in emails revealed in court.

The case also showed how Indians now lobby against other tribes. Those that already have casinos actively prevent others from joining the gold rush. Money has also caused some tribes to turn on themselves. Last month a dispute on a California reservation between pro-casino and anti-casino factions ended with the eviction of some Indians by tribal police firing pepper spray. It also prompted many tribes to start kicking out people in order to share the cash among a smaller group of members. In Iowa, the Meskwaki tribe has started using DNA tests to screen 'pretenders'. The Cherokee recently threw out descendants of black slaves once owned by the tribe. In California an estimated 2,000 Indians have been booted out of tribes who accepted them during poor times, but do not want them to share in new wealth.

The Pequot aren't immune. Recently the tribe's internal politics have been riven by dissent. Their tribal leader since before Foxwoods was Richard Hayward, who led the Pequot for 23 years and turned them from dirt poor to filthy rich. Now Hayward and his family have been cast out of power. New factions have taken over and he rarely visits the reservation. At the same time some young Pequot have fallen victim to the temptations of wealth, enjoying their American life and leaving behind tribal traditions that survived centuries of oppression. When asked about her adult son, Joseph, Hatcher-White grows reticent. 'I don't like publicly talking about it. He does not participate in the culture. That is his choice,' she said.

But there can be little doubt that being excluded from the casino riches flowing through Indian Country is a far worse fate. Life on Lone Elk's Pine Ridge remains brutal and marginalised. The reservation's main town - also called Pine Ridge - is a dusty place of two traffic lights and a handful of fast-food stores. Most people live in decrepit trailer homes whose yards are piled with car wrecks.

Life here is tougher and shorter than anywhere else in America. Male life expectancy is 56. Unemployment is 70 per cent and 75 per cent of residents live below the poverty line. The average annual income is $3,700. Twenty per cent of houses have no water or electricity. 'This is the Third World in the middle of America,' says Jeaneen Lone Hill, a Lakota woman who is planning to move away. She has little hope for life improving. 'I need to go somewhere I can make a difference to people's lives. I don't see myself able to do that here.'

To understand what has happened here it is necessary only to visit Wounded Knee. Set in a bowl of rolling prairie, a tiny cluster of trailer homes marks the spot where the US army massacred hundreds of Lakota men, women and children in 1890. People on Pine Ridge speak of Wounded Knee as if it happened yesterday. Certainly it's not just history for a man like Jerry McLaughlin, who works in the tribe's housing department. Standing on the windy spot next to a mass grave for its victims, he points down into the narrow defile where most Indians were killed: 'To me this is a sacred place. To white Americans this is something they'd rather forget.'

It should surprise no one that herding a defeated, nomadic, buffalo-hunting tribe on to a tiny patch of land far from a city and on marginal soil unfit for farming, would lead to the disaster Pine Ridge is today. In such circumstances 100 years is unlikely to improve much. What is surprising is not that the Lakota are trapped in poverty, but that they are here at all. Life is harsh. There are few jobs and gangsterism has infected the young. Men are often festooned with tattoos and are sucked into the violence and drugs that mark gang life. McLaughlin worries his only son, James, will fall victim. He is 13 and McLaughlin wants to move to the countryside to get away. 'I am trying to get out before my son gets any older,' he says in the garden of his battered Pine Ridge house. Nearby homes have rubbish-filled yards and are covered in gang graffiti. McLaughlin knows there are few options for his boy: 'He wants to join the Marines as a way out,' he says. 'But I discourage that. He is the only son I have.'

And then there is the booze problem. Though the reservation is 'dry' it is ringed by border towns with liquor stores and bars. Pine Ridge itself is nestled up against the Nebraska state line, and just a mile away lies the off-reservation town of Whiteclay, a collection of booze shops, a Christian mission and burnt-out homes. Its only street - even early in the morning - is lined with drunk Indians collapsed on pavements, drinking in the bushes or pan-handling on the streets.

Suicide is a big problem. On the neighbouring Rosebud reservation the rate among Sioux youth is 10 times higher than the norm. After a spate of deaths recently a state of emergency was declared there. In conversations with local residents the spectre of early death seems ever present. A cousin who had an overdose; a rumoured suicide; a drink-driving accident that took a school friend. That holds true for Dana Lone Hill, a Lakota woman who recently moved back to Pine Ridge after a decade away. Now she lives in a rickety house and is trying to make ends meet as a writer for the local newspaper, while selling beadwork. 'Every day is a struggle,' she says. 'Sometimes to get enough just to buy food for a meal is a struggle.'

Yet there is another story to Pine Ridge. One that harks back to before casinos and before the arrival of white people. Beneath the squalor, there is a community that has genuinely held on to its culture against seemingly impossible odds in a way the now-rich Pequot could not. Pine Ridge is not just the home of the poor and marginalised; it is in a very real sense true Indian Country. It is not yet fully part of America.

This explains why Bob Lone Elk has built a prayer field on the prairie. It explains the Sun Dance scars on the chests of many Lakota men. It explains why across Pine Ridge there are more than 40 spots where Sun Dances take place. It explains the yearly calendar of ceremonies that Lone Elk conducts, drawing hundreds of Indians to observe the rituals and dances their ancestors did. He talks of being possessed by 'thunder spirits' with the same matter-of-factness as a Christian pastor might preach the power of prayer. And all this goes on away from the eyes of white America, often because outsiders are banned from such places.

Lone Elk knows the reservation is poor, but he sees signs of cultural survival that give him heart. Despite growing up in a Lakota-speaking household, he was forced to speak English at reservation schools. Now Lakota is taught there. His daughter, Dana, recently attended her first religious ceremony in the prayer field. She brought her four children. They danced and sang along with scores of other Lakota.

It is that sense of identity - not as an American but as a Lakota - that brought Dana back to Pine Ridge. It is a tie that draws many. 'In the end I had a hard time being off the reservation. I realised Pine Ridge is my home,' she says. There is nothing about that feeling that is fake or contrived. Across Indian Country many tribes hold regular pow-wows, festivals of dance and music and opportunities for people to reconnect. In some cases these are tourist affairs. A recent Pequot pow-wow was held in the grounds of the tribal museum, attracting a crowd of white visitors. Not so the Lakota pow-wow. It was held in Pine Ridge and attracted Indians from all over North and South Dakota. They struck tents and tepees, held a rodeo and dance. 'I love pow-wow,' said Dana. 'It's where we come together despite everything.'

That fierce community pride explains the most incredible thing about the Lakota; for the astonishing fact is that they could easily tap a vast supply of wealth, but they have chosen not to on a point of principle. In their long struggle with white America, their greatest defeat was losing the Black Hills, a mountainous region sacred to the tribe. The hills were given to the Indians in a treaty, but shortly after they were invaded by miners looking for gold.

In 1980, after years of court battles, a judge awarded a cash settlement for the broken promises in lieu of returning the hills to the Indians. That sum is now $500m and it is sitting unclaimed in a government bank account. The Lakota have not touched a cent though the prospects of ever reclaiming the Hills - now populated by tourist towns and ranches - appear to be zero. It is a heroic, some might say unfathomable, act of defiance. Even Jeaneen Lone Hill, as she prepares to leave Pine Ridge's poverty behind, does not want to see the money claimed. 'They should not touch it. Then white America will never own the Black Hills.'

What, then, still links the Lakota and the Pequot? Is Indian Country hopelessly divided between those who join America and prosper, and those who hold on to old ways?

At first it seems more divides than unites. The Lakota, too, have opened a casino, but it is a small place, hundreds of miles from anywhere, that attracts few visitors. And then there are the cultural voids opening up in Indian Country. 'I am Lakota first. Then I am American later,' Jerry McLaughlin says, standing at Wounded Knee. Others are more strident still. 'They did to us what America is now doing to Iraq,' says Jeaneen Lone Hill. That is not a sentiment found among the Pequot. Aside from the fact that every Pequot has white or black blood in their veins as well as Indian, they have embraced mainstream America. Take Lori Potter. Through her mother's Indian blood she has become a Pequot tribal member who acts as an ambassador between the Pequot and the government. Potter looks like a classic white American mom. She admits she grew up a 'Navy brat' mostly in California and, as a child, she had little knowledge of Indians. 'I had an image of Indians only living in the West,' she says. She bristles at the suggestion that being Indian might conflict with being American. 'I am a patriotic American,' she says.

But, digging beneath the surface, there are still links keeping Indian Country whole. All Indians, in different ways, still face the hostility of much of America. The Lakota talk of the difficulties of getting a job outside the reservation and being stopped regularly by the police. The Pequot battle white suspicions about their power and wealth. Potter says that looking as white as she does helps in her dealings with government officials. 'They have a sense of mistrust. It is easier for me to talk to them,' she says. For both tribes the white world still views them as potentially 'hostile Indians', feared for their wealth or their resentful poverty. America still prefers its Indians kept in the stereotypical box of myth: of the noble warrior who only exists in film and on TV. Being confronted with the complex reality can be uncomfortable.

That is something Kimberly Hatcher-White knows all about. She looks like a black American, but fiercely identifies with the tribe - especially given the historical reasons why the Pequot intermarried so much: their menfolk were killed and the woman sold into slavery. She is tired of justifying her identity as an Indian to outsiders: 'Why should we have to explain to everybody that we look the way we do?'

Perhaps, though, she should be thankful she is still being asked the question. That means Indians are still here; still different from the rest of America. 'We were always here. We never went away,' says Hatcher-White. That might not be true for long. For the real thing that unites all Indian tribes - whether the children of Bob Lone Elk or those of Hatcher-White - is the gradual creep of mainstream American culture into their youth. From the dusty streets of Pine Ridge to the clipped lawns of Mashantucket the impact of cable TV, fast food and all things American is huge, and getting bigger. On Pine Ridge the busiest restaurant in town is Pizza Hut. In Connecticut, at the recent Pequot pow-wow most of the Indian performers seemed to come from other tribes. The Pequot, no doubt, were busy; working, going to college and leading middle-class American lives. It would be ironic if, after centuries of bloodshed, oppression and poverty, what could really spell the end of Indian Country is MTV, a Big Mac and acceptance.

The Passion of Uncle Thomas

2007-10-03T08:55:00.000-05:00

Let it go, Justice Thomas.

Clarence Thomas is hopping mad. Still.

Recently, Thomas appeared on 60 Minutes to shill his new autobiography, defend himself against allegations that he may be a sellout, and publicly pick the ugly scab that was created during the Anita Hill hearings. Of course, if he'd chosen to leave this last item off of his To Do List, I don't think any of us would have held it against him. Long before Isiah made news, an older, equally defiant Thomas was being publicly accused of sexual harassment and making unwanted advances. His successful defense against these charges, and his subsequent decade-and-a-half long judicial Campaign of Terror haven't dulled his temper. That's right. Even a lifetime seat on the Supreme Court and the knowledge that he is safely ensconced in one of the world's most uniquely powerful positions does not soothe the seething soul of Clarence Thomas. The man is still bitter, and waiting for him to move on might be a bit like leaving the porch light on for Jimmy Hoffa (incidentally, Thomas' wife, Virginia, has stated with a straight face that she thinks Anita Hill should issue an apology. Word is Hill might consider it only if she and Clarence can spend some quality time together sharing cans of Coke and watching old videos).

Despite the title of this post, I certainly don't intend to waste a lot of space calling Clarence nasty names. Also, I won't bore anyone by rehashing any of Clarence's maniacal (believe me, if Antonin Scalia thinks you're a wackjob you've got issues) and well-known beliefs. I mean, if Justice Thomas believes that the entire New Deal was unconstitutional who am I to argue? Well, OK. I do have a response to one of his statements. It's a single, oft-repeated, anti-affirmative action argument - one that Clarence Thomas has made for many years now.

It goes something like this: Affirmative Action is a bad idea because it lowers the self-esteem of those very people who it is supposed to help. It does this by subjecting black people to the skepticism of whites who may believe that blacks did not earn jobs based on merit. Whites will view their black coworkers with suspicion and this, in turn, will have a deleterious impact on the psyche of blacks.

I usually offer the following relatively simple, two-part counter to this supposition.

1) When it comes to our financial well-being, despite popular opinion, we black folks don't really care what white people think. The 'damaged psyche' argument as well as the line of thinking that sparks it reveals a couple of things. When it is employed by whites, it concedes an extreme arrogance and, when used by blacks, it betrays a pathetic dependence on white approval. Honestly, when it comes to my career or my paycheck, white people's assessment of my competence doesn't factor. And why should it? Do you think that George W. Bush has EVER lost a minute of sleep because he was plagued by the idea that maybe some folks assume that he is less than competent and that his career success just might have something to do with his daddy (on a semi-related and bizarre note, apparently, being the President's daughter also makes one a qualified, publishable author)?

2) I'd rather have people initially saying that I'm a quota hire or incompetent than to be unemployed. Perhaps Dave Chappelle dissected this subject best when he quipped, "Hey. It's better than people saying, 'That Nigga's broke!'" Besides, it's been my experience that once a person fully seizes a position, his coworkers care less about how he got the job than whether or not he can do the job properly. In these situations, excellence tends to accelerate amnesia - and, later, even bring about respect. If I have to choose between accepting a position for which my coworkers initially assume I'm unqualified and checking my email for daily monster.com job notices, I'll take my chances with the J.O.B., thank you very much.

In any event, while watching the 60 Minutes interview it occurred to me that black conservatives interpret racism differently than other African-Americans. For most black folks, racism is institutional. It is a pervasive, systemic problem for which a systemic solution is needed. For the black conservative, racism is simply a personal affront - less like a plague and more like a smart bomb. They view racism as a series of individual beliefs and acts committed by people who just can't seem to see them for who they are - Americans. As a result, they believe that personal efforts will be enough to neutralize the problem. Of course, none of this explains why Clarence Thomas continues to breathe life into stale, sixteen-year-old conflicts. Neither does it explain why he is easily the most detestable public black figure in the history of black America. Thomas himself claims not to understand it. Honestly, it's pretty simple. He's hated because he's guilty of committing the one crime that black folks will not forgive: in belief, word and deed he rejects us and our national reality. But I imagine he's too busy nursing his own wounds to consider that.

Edit: If you're interested in seeing what makes Thomas tick, instead of reading his apologist autobiography, I highly recommend Supreme Discomfort: The Divided Soul of Clarence Thomas by Kevin Merida and Michael A. Fletcher. It's both fascinating and highly readable.

The Color of Money: How White Becomes Green in the Workplace

2007-09-30T11:59:00.000-05:00

It's a jungle out there for white professionals.

Allow me to engage in a little bit of self-disclosure.

I'm a full time graduate student who happens to be working a human resources internship for a small, relatively wealthy community just outside of Dallas. I have to say that I LOVE working in HR. One of the main reasons for this is that it satisfies my meddlesome desire to know what exactly it is that people earn. Since everyone thinks it's "tacky" to discuss personal compensation, being employed in a human resources capacity is the only way for me to scratch that itch - AND, miracle of miracles, I'm actually being paid to do it. Also, as you may already know, I am, or would like to think of myself as, what folks from my grandfather's generation used to refer to as a "Race Man." So, it is, therefore, understandable that I would be most enthusiastic about a project that was recently assigned to me that allowed me to research and compile income, race, gender and job category data for the entire organization and report my findings to the EEOC.

Here's what I found: Whites, in particular white men, occupy job categories that are most likely to be the highest paying and/or most responsible in the organization. Women of all races are heavily concentrated in administrative support roles. Latinos (or Hispanics, whichever you prefer) and African-American men are predominately employed in a service/maintenance capacity. For every African-American woman who is an administrator or a professional there are three who are among the lowest paid in the entire organization. Asians, especially Asian men are virtually invisible (except when they appear here and there to snap up a high-end position) and Native Americans don't exist at all. There are, of course, exceptions to this but, by and large, it is what it is.

Now, here's the thing: I defy you to take more than a cursory look at your own organization and come up with vastly different results than I have. God bless you if you can because, the more I think about it, the more I'm forced to conclude that EVERY SINGLE medium to large company for which I've worked can be summed up identically to my current place of employment.

Having said all that, there exists a wealth of information that examines race and gender disparities in the workplace and how they are maintained. Recently, I read a fantastic article about emotional labor and sex segregation entitled, "Women's Job, Men's Jobs." The authors of the piece, Mary Guy and Meridith Newman, examine what exactly it is about women's jobs that causes them to pay less. They conclude that a large part of women's work has to do with the application of emotional labor - labor based on those attributes that women are socialized to develop and administer that allow the work place to function more smoothly but are rarely, if ever, monetarily compensated. Guy and Newman argue that emotional labor helps explain both job segregation based on gender and the gender wage gap. Similarly, in his fantastic book, Gender and Racial Inequality at Work, Donald Tomaskovic-Devey provides empirical evidence about workplace segregation and describes how jobs are "sorted" out based on race.

My own experiences certainly bear these research conclusions out, and I know I'm not alone. Time and again I've seen managers eagerly promote undeserving whites based simply on the fact that they're more "comfortable" with them. In a few cases, I was the one who was passed over for the promotion. Most times, despite the fact that I knew what was happening, I said nothing and chalked it up to things being what they are (Aside to white people: I hear some of you complaining about the idea, of all things, that black people complain too much. If you had any conception of how many times during our work-a-day lives that we have to bite our tongues when we are being subjected to some sort of racially-motivated affront, you would conclude otherwise). One time, it was particularly difficult for me to do this because it was confirmed for me that I was, indeed, the most qualified candidate. After one interview, the supervisor stupidly let it slip that I was "by far" the best candidate among those who had applied for the job. Of course, that didn't stop him from passing me over and hiring a woman to whom he was physically attracted (it ended badly). Fortunately, this kind of thing hasn't happened to me very often. Generally, once I'm offered an interview, I'm a shoo in - I've been told it's because I'm likable and "articulate" (Aside to Bill O'Reilly: This is, at the very least a loaded compliment because it implies that whatever white person gave it assumes that black folks can't speak and is surprised that I can). At any rate, I can't imagine how it must be for people who've worked hard their entire lives, crossed all the Ts and dotted all the Is and positioned themselves for a promotion only to be repeatedly denied simply because their supervisors are more comfortable with a Sharon than they are a Shaniqua.

In addition to this, many times, I've seen a white worker plucked from vocational obscurity and simply handed the reins to his or her own promotional future. It's almost as if white supervisors want to rescue their similarly-complexioned comrades from having to do the same work as Negroes. I once worked in a call center with a white guy named Andy. As those of you who've worked in a call center before well know, the work environment is generally set up like a plantation. You've got a room full of little cubicles all within monitoring distance of a few big cubicles. The little cubicles are usually occupied by entry level phone jockeys. The big ones are manned by their overseers, um, supervisors. Now, at this call center, the small cubicles were filled overwhelmingly with minorities. The big ones were attended mostly (they had to allow a few of us to slip through the cracks) by white floor managers. At any rate, Andy was NOT a hard worker. Andy was often late to work (usually only by a few minutes) and just as often late coming back from his breaks. Yet, for some reason, Andy was a favorite of those individuals in the big cubes. So much so that they gave him special projects that allowed him to spend most of his day off of the phones - anyone who's done this kind of work knows how much of a big deal that is. Eventually, when a non call-taker position opened up and Andy applied for it, (he was "encouraged" to do so by management) he got it. After Andy was promoted, those sweet little projects dried up. Those of us who were left in his wake could only shake our heads as his "replacement," another white guy named Brian, was allowed to spend a good portion of his work day sitting in the big cubicles, fraternizing with his higher-ups. Membership, I came to learn, has its privileges.

God's CEOs

2007-09-27T19:20:00.000-05:00

MLK Enterprises: The Dream Has Changed

History was bound to repeat itself.

Still, I had hoped it wouldn't happen. Wednesday, the Burmese (yes, I'm using the former name of the country as opposed to the military-imposed misnomer) government began to disperse crowds of courageous protesters with randomly placed bullets. This in response to week-long street protests against the country's freedom-crushing junta, protests that were started by some of the country's Buddhist monks, individuals who Burmese citizens understandably hold in the highest regard.

The clarity of purpose that these monks have shown reminded me of a time when Black America could count on its religious leaders to stand up for social justice. Historically, the African-American church has served as a base for those in our community who have fought against tyranny in the forms of slavery, Jim Crow, the KKK and many other assaults on black equality. One is left to wonder how our churches have devolved into the sorry state in which we find them today - helmed by men and women who have given up on the constant struggle for black progress and have opted instead for self-service. Men and women who seek not to educate and empower their congregations, but to fleece them. Nowadays, black church leaders certainly seem to excel at this, but when an opportunity presents itself to stand against economic injustice, these guys are too busy Scrooge McDuckin' it to notice.

Frankly, I wouldn't mind trading most of these pulpit coin counters for monks. Monks are well-regarded, and for good reason. They are sincere and live by the simplest of means. Conversely, our church leaders seem to drip with duplicity and pretension. Many can only be counted on to support their own interests. Some of you will refer to the Big Two. But we really can't count the contributions of Al 'Slick' Sharpton and Jesse 'Baby Daddy' Jackson because, well, let's face it, neither of those dudes strikes me as the selfless type. Everything that they do seems to have them at the center of it. Jesse Jackson launched his career based on a rather despicable lie having to do with his wearing a shirt soaked with the blood of the recently assassinated Martin Luther King, Jr. Rev. Al rode his way to fame on the back of the dissembling Tawana Brawley. More recently, Jesse Jackson helped conceive a love child in-between marriage counseling sessions with the Clintons. Al Sharpton, dauntless in his quest to become a poor man's Jesse, ran for president with the help of a nasty little Republican Svengali. These transgressions are bad enough but to top everything off, these chumps don't even have a church. When was the last time you heard anybody say, "One of the things I want to do when I come to visit you is get up early and go to Jesse Jackson's church."

But, even those Men-of-God who do have a church generally come with a ton of unseemly extras. By most accounts, Bishop TD Jakes, through his Potter's House charities and other philanthropic endeavors, has really done some genuine good. But the brother also has an affinity for posh mansions, diamond pinky rings and Bentleys. Sure, it was awfully magnanimous of him to dig between his sofa cushions and offer six thousand dollars to the Jena 6 Defense Fund but one gets the feeling that he just as easily could have spent the money on a couple of tie clips.

Another prominent preacher, the good Reverend Creflo Dollar (I do not possess the imagination to make that name up) advocates "Prosperity Christianity," preaches that true belief will be rewarded with material success, and owns three private jets.

Fast Eddie Long, the Georgia-based pastor who unflinchingly said, "I am looked at as one of the church's fathers. One of God's CEOs," created a charity that netted him over 3 million dollars income over a three-year period.

Then there's the "Prophetess" Juanita Bynum, who apparently couldn't predict that her husband would confuse himself with Ike Turner and who will, undoubtedly, write a profitable little book in the very near future about her ability to spiritually stave off an attack.

A friend of mine thinks I'm just being pointlessly mean for criticizing people like TD Jakes. She even defends him by arguing that most of his discretionary income comes from TD Jakes Enterprises, which produces books, (with titles like, Woman, Thou Art Loosed! and He-Motions) albums and movies. My rebuttal is always pretty simple. If Jesus were here, He wouldn't be CEO of JESUS, Inc. He wouldn't wear outlandish five-piece suits or gaudy jewelry. He wouldn't drive a Bentley or a Rolls Royce. He wouldn't have his own private jet. He wouldn't live in a mansion. WWJD? Not this. If you disagree with me you're either doing so out of spite or you've missed the entire point of Christianity - which is, of course, to be Christ-like: humble, obedient, steadfast, unworldly. It's relatively simple. To those Christians who don't think any of this is a big deal, consider this: If you're constantly distracted by moneymen like Jakes, perhaps you won't notice when the genuine article finally comes back around. Perhaps because you've spent so many years being led by Offering Plate Pastors who treat spirituality like a commodity, you'll find him too plain and pedestrian.

The thing is, I don't necessarily knock people for going to church. It's easy to figure out why they do it. Most go because it makes them feel good. Apparently, waking up early on Sundays, listening to choirs churn out the same songs and hearing a lavishly-dressed preacher loudly re and/or misinterpret a couple of already-familiar passages from the Bible while he theatrically wipes sweat from his brow is soul nourishing. Hey, to each his own. I just don't think it's a good sign when we can walk past the First Baptist ATM machine and not bat an eyelash.

On Black Thursday, OJ, Idiocy and Mos Def..

2007-09-21T14:29:00.000-05:00

Apparently, black clothes, 90 degree temperatures and a slick perm aren't as combustible a combination as I'd imagined..

As before, when I felt compelled by both internal and external pressures to comment about Mike Vick and D.L. Hughley, I'm now feeling the urge to provide feedback on a series of current events. I'll try to convey each of these opinions as succinctly as possible, mainly because my mother-in-law, who reads my blog regularly, can't seem to make it beyond four paragraphs.

1) I think that yesterday's Jena Six Rally was a tremendous symbolic success.

Some have likened it to the great marches on Selma although this is a bit much (for a number of reasons, not the least of which is Selma had MLK and Hosea Williams and Jena had Al Sharpton and Michael Baisden). I do believe, however, that we did very well.
First, we sent a considerable message, not only to the powers that be in Jena, Louisiana, but to the the American justice machine as a whole - an APB with a single idea. Namely, that black people will not sit idly by while biased enforcers of the "law" attempt to destroy our children's lives with 'the stroke of a pen.'
Second, the young brothers that were railroaded know with certainty that their people have their backs. Can you imagine how they felt (if they were allowed to see it on television) when they witnessed their town being besieged by a throng of that magnitude, responding to their predicament and saying simply, "This won't do?"
Finally, and less importantly, any time hundreds of thousands of African-Americans can be convinced to wear black as a sign of solidarity (in extreme heat!) that's got to count for something. I saw a significant number of purposefully ebony-clad black folks (albeit, mostly women) at both my job and my school. I'll be honest, it made me put my cynicism temporarily on the back burner.

2) I just can't figure out why "they" won't leave OJ alone.

There he was, in Las Vegas, Nevada, undoubtedly on the trail of the elusive Real Killers of his brutally murdered ex-wife and her lover, when somebody, probably connected with the LAPD, set him up (again). I mean, really, does OJ strike you as the kind of dude who would show up to a hotel room with a couple of goons and start making like a tough guy? Did you listen to the audio of the alleged robbery? Sounds more like Tony Soprano than OJ. I mean, who records themselves being stuck up anyway? I tell you what: I'm really going to start losing my confidence in our justice system if shit like this keeps happening to Orenthal.

3) "Don't tase me, Bro!"

Surely you've seen it by now. The video of the student being taken down and tasered by police shortly after he broke up a John Kerry town hall speech with a few "inappropriate" questions. I've had a ton of people ask my opinion about this episode. Are you ready? Here it is: that kid deserved every bit of that taser. Maybe I feel that way because he reminds me of the self-absorbed, self-righteous assholes with whom I attended undergrad. Or maybe it's because people are attempting to liken the situation of this assumably privileged nincompoop to that of those who are regularly harassed by the police simply because they are poor and/or non-white. Or maybe it's because this guy was indeed resisting arrest. Or maybe it's because he was hamming it up and trying to make a free speech martyr of himself. OR maybe it's because he ignored rules two, five and six of Chris Rock's PSA, "How Not to Get Your Ass Kicked by the Police." At any rate, NO ONE should mistake a legitimately applied taser to this. And finally...

4) Yes, I did see Mos Def on Real Time with Bill Mayer.

Yes, I had been looking forward to it. Yes, he did sound like an uneducated, paranoid, pseudo-revolutionary idiot. Yes, he did waste a golden opportunity to represent hip hop in a positive manner. No, I am not supplying you with a link to this travesty. Find it yourself if you're so inclined.

To Brenda: I'm sorry I ran a little long. If you've made it this far I promise I'll treat you to dinner.

Nigger Doesn't Live Here Anymore

2007-09-07T00:36:00.000-05:00

This nig..um African-American might as well start looking for a new job right now.

Apparently, not even black people can use the "N-word" anymore.

That's what Eddie "Undercover Brother" Griffin found out during a performance at a Black Enterprise Magazine sponsored event in Doral, Florida last week. Griffin, who's built his career on embracing and fleshing out embarrassing racial stereotypes, was pulled off of the stage after repeatedly dropping the N-bomb in front of a crowd presumably comprised predominately of middle and upper middle class black folks. This episode comes fresh on the heels of the NAACP holding a mock funeral for the word. I guess Eddie didn't get the memo.

Wow. OK. My first reaction to this news was wishing I could have been there to see the look on Eddie Griffin's face. PRICELESS, I'm sure. He's probably still wondering what he did wrong. 'What kind of topsy-turvy world am I inhabiting,' he must be saying to himself, 'when I can't repeatedly refer to my fellows as n-words?' My second reaction was wondering what the hell the organizers of the event were expecting. I mean, they booked him right? I can't imagine him just happening to be there, milling around in the crowd, and deciding to jump on stage and nigger it up, for lack of a better description. Hadn't they seen any of his stand up? Did they find him in the yellow pages? Were they expecting him to pull out a sledgehammer and start smashing watermelons? Honestly, I almost feel sorry for Eddie Griffin. For going on two decades he's been allowed, no encouraged (rewarded with money, fame, movie roles, etc.) for doggedly sticking to his routine. He's never bothered evaluating himself about his usage of the word, or any of his other coonery, because, for one, he hasn't had to and for two, he's not a top-tier comedian.

All of the great stand-up geniuses, at one time or another, come to a point at which they question their own integrity. The dearly departed Richard Pryor, in whose godly image current black comedians have unsuccessfully attempted to mold themselves, went to Africa at the height of his popularity, came back home, publicly retired the word from his vocabulary, and said simply "I didn't see any niggers in Africa." Chris Rock, whose penetrating, Bring The Pain routine, "Black Folks versus Niggers," regenerated his career in the mid-'90s, decided that he would no longer perform it because he feared it was being misinterpreted. Most recently, Dave Chappelle, the man whom Pryor said reminded him most of himself, completely abandoned his show once he began feeling that some (himself included) were confusing his art with minstrelsy. Ironically, in Griffin's best work, DysFunktional Family, he pays homage to Pryor and refers to him as the greatest comic of all time. Yet, apparently, although Griffin was heavily influenced by his idol, he and other black comics of his generation failed to pick up on one of Richard Pryor's most important lessons.

One More Thing: In this Post-Nigger World of mock funerals, bum-rushed comics and almost daily Al Sharpton grandstanding, I can't help but wonder if we're fighting the wrong battle. I know, of course, the power of hate words. They are, as Saul Williams articulated "shards of metal DROPPED from eight story windows." But I'm still left cold by this suddenly amped up movement to cull the word from our collective vocabulary and cast it down the memory hole. Perhaps it's because it seems to be yet another way for the black middle/upper middle class - who're at the heart of this campaign - to police the actions of the people beneath them. Maybe it's the dull realization that eliminating the n-word won't put the kibbosh on white people's usage of it. Or maybe it's because, as Breez (she's brilliant, check her out) puts it, "Zero tolerance almost always equates to zero Negro tolerance." Just ask Eddie Griffin.

The Problem With Vick

2007-08-28T22:46:00.000-05:00

Some crimes don't go unpunished.

OK. After having an interesting series of mini-debates with a dear friend - who, in the interest of disclosure, is a white dog owner who also happens to a) embrace race and gender conflict theory and b) have the good sense to agree with me most of time - I feel the need to clarify the comments that I wrote concerning Michael Vick in my previous post.

I'm truly not defending Mike Vick's criminal actions. I don't believe that he should somehow escape penalty simply because of the color of his skin or the fact that his most vocal detractors are white. Nor do I believe that dogfighting isn't a serious matter. Just because I find the doggy-love in this country excessive doesn't mean I wouldn't want to see some sadistic animal torturer brought to justice. But, as I wrote, I simply am not comfortable with the way this sad little episode is being publicly played out. At any rate, here are some additional thoughts that I have on the matter.

Despite the facts of the case, this is being viewed as a media/government witch hunt by most black people. Undoubtedly, part of the reason that blacks and whites are interpreting this so dissimilarly is because black people see Vick being prosecuted by a predominately white, historically inequitable criminal justice machine, skewered by a predominately white, rush-to-judgment media and kicked around by a predominately white, credulous and seemingly hypocritical public. When this happens, the actual crime becomes a secondary consideration for us. For further proof of this phenomenon, examine the case of one Orenthal James Simpson (if you're one of the last few who hasn't lost all stomach for it - or if you happen to be Nancy Grace).

Regarding the hypocrisy of the American public, black people see a LOT of it bubbling under the surface of this issue. For one thing, we Americans seem to be selective about what will and won't register emotionally with us. The same dog-lovers who allow themselves to be worked into a lather of righteous indignation over the brutal killings of scores of dogs don't seem to bat an eyelash over the brutal murders of millions of dark-skinned people in Darfur, for example. Or, if international ethnic cleansing is too unpalatable for consumption, how about those athletes/entertainers who are given a pass when they abuse and/or rape women? Or how about (and granted at this point it's officially become personal) R. Kelly? Roughly five years ago Robert Kelly filmed himself urinating on a 14-year-old girl. Since that time he's made five or six albums, one of which, released shortly after the incident, was entitled, The Chocolate Factory. This is pretty salacious shit. Yet, as of this post, he has yet to go to trial. And just as I can't help wondering if Peyton Manning or Tom Brady would be getting the same treatment Vick is, I can't help wondering if Kelly would be treated with such kid gloves if he'd chosen to film himself urinating on a blond-haired, blue-eyed white girl. Dogs, it appears, are more worthy of protection in the minds of the American public than little black girls.

Less importantly, like it or not, PETA and similar groups have become the public face of the Stick It To Mike Vick movement. Yes, the very same PETA members who are screaming for Michael Vick's blood and who would undoubtedly hurdle over a homeless man on their way to the vegan deli without losing a step. I would also argue, that many animal-rights activists are driven, to one degree or another, by an unsettling blend of self-righteousness, misanthropy, elitism, and yes, racism. I've read and heard many of the arguments explaining why I should stop eating meat and encourage others to do the same. I just can't reconcile those arguments with the people who make them - people who equate the meat industry with the slave trade and the Holocaust. Recently, I completed Pamela Rice's 101 Reasons Why I'm a Vegetarian. Although I feel she could have just as easily whittled it down to four or five reasons, I must admit that I mostly agreed with her. So much so that I visited her vivavegie website and found this bullshit, in which she stupidly likens vegetarians with other historically marginalized groups, puts insults to vegetarians on par with racial slurs and openly wonders "where's our Al Sharpton?" Do black folks want the fate of Mike Vick decided by these people (who, it quickly becomes clear, are more interested in letting you know exactly how much of an asshole you are for enjoying your chicken kiev than they are in broadening their membership base)?

So with the Vick case, we've once again found ourselves at that messy intersection on the American social landscape where race and class collide. Predictably, we've also come to the point where we're left divided cleanly along racial lines with regard to how we see things. And since I don't hold out any hope that white folks won't recognize anything but moral absolutes, I guess I can't expect black folks to stop defending a criminal.

Vick Kills Dogs, DL Sticks it to Sisters

2007-08-26T19:08:00.000-05:00

Is this the new face of Free Speech?

A number of people have been asking me to use the blog to respond to a myriad of current events. Usually, I can sidestep these requests with skill and ease. However, there are two pop issues that I probably should address.

Here goes...

1) I don't really like dogs. I once owned a mixed breed (I grew up using the term "mutt" but, apparently, dogs deserve as much respect, with regard to how they're labeled, as humans) named Tank, who, somewhat ironically, was run over by a Ford Fairmont station wagon. Ever since, it's been difficult for me to bond emotionally with canines. Don't get me wrong. I don't hate them. I merely believe that they occupy far too much real estate in the American consciousness. It's as if Americans, weaned on the legend of Old Yeller and television reruns of Lassie, assume that there is a direct correlation between their patriotism and the number of times they've allowed Max to climb up on their beds and kiss them in the mouths. And when dog owners invariably compare their living property with children....don't even get me started on that.

Having made my bias crystal clear, I have to admit that I don't exactly hate Michael Vick. Am I an apologist for him? Absolutely not. The crimes for which he'll be entering a plea are both morally repulsive and prosecution-worthy. But I, like many others, have certainly noticed the, let's say complexion of the disdain for Vick and it makes me uncomfortable. It also raises another issue. I don't think many white Americans, particularly sports enthusiasts, have ever felt loose and easy with Number 7. Michael Vick's style of play - decidedly athletic and freewheeling and, let's face it, BLACK - has engendered a reaction from some whites that ranges from curiosity to outright contempt. This isn't a non-issue. I believe that if a traditional quarterback like Peyton Manning or Tom Brady had committed these atrocities, the public call for blood would be noticeably more muted. For Joe Sixpack, Vick's more significant crime might be not learning to stay his ass in the pocket. As always though, I could be wrong.

2) I think that the outrage borne out of DL Hughley's comments is deserved and righteous. After having read a combative and pointedly unremorseful interview with him, I'm even more disappointed. Let's keep in mind that Hughley chose to dog these women on the most popular late night television in the country, and did so in front of a predominately white audience. This ain't the Chitlin' Circuit to which he's accustomed. Furthermore, Hughley's "truth" - that these women are "some of the ugliest women I've ever seen" - is completely subjective and undoubtedly colored by white, racist standards of beauty. Also, his statements were fresh on the heels of the Imus debacle. Haven't these women had to endure enough public ridicule? AND, despite his poorly thought out intentions, the shit that he said wasn't even funny.

Before you Free Speech absolutists start foaming at the mouth, I'd argue that this isn't a free speech issue. No sensible person makes a Free Speech Mountain out of a Faux Pas molehill. Did DL Hughley have the right to say what he said? Damn tootin'. Should his social responsibility as a black man living in a historically and presently racist country outweigh his desire to sneak one in at the expense of black women in general and the Rutger's Women's Basketball team in particular? Hell yes.

Lest You Mourn Him...

2007-05-15T18:38:00.000-05:00

"You shouldn't even miss me this much."

I have to admit that I've been on a bit of a losing streak lately.

I just missed out on a fantastic, potentially lucrative internship opportunity at a major firm. I received a 'B' from a professor who could have just as easily - and not altogether undeservedly - given me an 'A'. TiVo just provided me the opportunity to watch Tony Soprano commit an act (like Tony Montana, Nino Brown and a whole host of other likeable bad guys before him) so morally repugnant that I'm emotionally ready (at long last) to see him go. And, unlike the vast majority of my fellow wage-slaving clock punchers out there, I'm not terribly happy at my job.

So, there was room for my outlook to improve dramatically, and it did, when I learned of the recent death of Jerry Falwell. I know some of you are thinking, 'How awful of you to revel in someone's death, no matter who he was,' or some such sentimental hogwash. To you I simply respond, with my best Paulie Walnuts, "Get Da Fug Outta Here!"

Simply put: Jerry Falwell was an asshole. The worst kind of asshole, in fact, because he ceaselessly attacked gays, women who foolishly pursue economic and social equality and folks misguided enough to not worship the same God as he, while successfully innoculating himself against criticism by labeling all of his detractors God-haters. He also got the Christian right to embrace the idea that they had a Mandate from Above that compelled them to infest the world of politics - a world they'd historically written off as secular and unsalvagable.

Still, some can't find it in their Christian hearts to think ill of the dearly departed. Honestly, this kneejerk self-righteousness is one of the things I find most irritating about the bible-banging bunch: the very idea that it is somehow spiritually tacky to be thankful that a person, no matter how destructive or ethically diseased, is no longer around to cause trouble.

For you, I provide the words of the man himself. These were not paraphrased or taken out of context. Indeed, they were quoted very much within the context of Falwell's worldview. I retrieved this, appropriately enough, from a site called Positive Atheism. I doubt the Moral Majority would approve of their efforts.

If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being.

This is probably as bad a day as the court has had on social issues since "Roe v Wade." (reacting to the Supreme Court's ruling in the Texas sodomy case, "Lawrence v. Texas" wherein the high court uphelp an individual's (or a couple's) right to privacy).

I had a student ask me, "Could the savior you believe in save Osama bin Laden?" Of course, we know the blood of Jesus Christ can save him, and then he must be executed.."

God continues to lift the curtain and allow the enemies of America to give us probably what we deserve (regarding the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001).

The ACLU's got to take a lot of blame for this (regarding the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001).

And, I know that I'll hear from them for this. But, throwing God out successfully with the help of the federal court system, throwing God out of the public square, out of the schools. The abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked. And when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad. I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way -- all of them who have tried to secularize America -- I point the finger in their face and say, "You helped this happen."

I sincerely believe that the collective efforts of many secularists during the past generation, resulting in the expulsion from our schools and from the public square, has left us vulnerable.)

I put all the blame legally and morally on the actions of the terrorist, but America's secular and anti-Christian environment left us open to our Lord's decision not to protect. When a nation deserts God and expels God from the culture ... the result is not good.

Pat, did you notice yesterday the ACLU, and all the Christ-haters, People For the American Way, NOW, etc. were totally disregarded by the Democrats and the Republicans in both houses of Congress as they went out on the steps and called out on to God in prayer and sang "God Bless America" and said "let the ACLU be hanged"? In other words, when the nation is on its knees, the only normal and natural and spiritual thing to do is what we ought to be doing all the time -- calling upon God.

I hope I live to see the day when, as in the early days of our country, we won't have any public schools. The churches will have taken them over again and Christians will be running them. What a happy day that will be!

AIDS is not just God's punishment for homosexuals; it is God's punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals.

The idea that religion and politics don't mix was invented by the Devil to keep Christians from running their own country.

If we are going to save America and evangelize the world, we cannot accommodate secular philosophies that are diametrically opposed to Christian truth ... We need to pull out all the stops to recruit and train 25 million Americans to become informed pro-moral activists whose voices can be heard in the halls of Congress.
I am convinced that America can be turned around if we will all get serious about the Master's business. It may be late, but it is never too late to do what is right. We need an old-fashioned, God-honoring, Christ-exalting revival to turn American back to God. America can be saved!

It appears that America's anti-Biblical feminist movement is at last dying, thank God, and is possibly being replaced by a Christ-centered men's movement which may become the foundation for a desperately needed national spiritual awakening.

There is no separation of church and state. Modern US Supreme Courts have raped the Constitution and raped the Christian faith and raped the churches by misinterpreting what the Founders had in mind in the First Amendment to the Constitution.

The Bible is the inerrant ... word of the living God. It is absolutely infallible,without error in all matters pertaining to faith and practice, as well as in areas such as geography, science, history, etc.

But these things speak evil of those things, verse 10 which they know not: but what they know naturally, as brute beasts, in those things they corrupt themselves. Look at the Metropolitan Community Church today, the gay church, almost accepted into the World Council of Churches. Almost, the vote was against them. But they will try again and again until they get in, and the tragedy is that they would get one vote. Because they are spoken of here in Jude as being brute beasts, that is going to the baser lust of the flesh to live immorally, and so Jude describes this as apostasy. But thank God this vile and satanic system will one day be utterly annihilated and there'll be a celebration in heaven.

The Jews are returning to their land of unbelief. They are spiritually blind and desperately in need of their Messiah and Savior.

Grown men should not be having sex with prostitutes unless they are married to them.

I do not believe the homosexual community deserves minority status. One's misbehavior does not qualify him or her for minority status. Blacks, Hispanics, women, etc., are God-ordained minorities who do indeed deserve minority status.

Dan Moldea, the lead investigator for Larry Flynt's ongoing quest to uncover sexual indiscretions of Republican congressional members, has now admitted he was hired by the law firm defending President Clinton.

We're fighting against humanism, we're fighting against liberalism ... we are fighting against all the systems of Satan that are destroying our nation today ... our battle is with Satan himself.

Billy Graham is the chief servant of Satan.

The ACLU is to Christians what the American Nazi party is to Jews.

AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals. To oppose it would be like an Israelite jumping in the Red Sea to save one of Pharoah's chariotters.

You'll be riding along in an automobile. You'll be the driver perhaps. You're a Christian. There'll be several people in the automobile with you, maybe someone who is not a Christian. When the trumpet sounds you and the other born-again believers in that automobile will be instantly caught away - you will disappear, leaving behind only your clothes and physical things that cannot inherit eternal life.l That unsaved person or persons in the automobile will suddenly be startled to find the car suddenly somewhere crashes...Other cars on the highway driven by believers will suddenly be out of control and stark pandemonium will occur on...every highway in the world where Christians are caught away from the drivers wheel.

Stop Snitching: 60 Minutes’ Assassination of Hip Hop Culture

2007-04-27T16:37:00.000-05:00

Hip Hop in the Crosshairs

“This is what I mean an anti-nigger machine!” -Chuck D. (Public Enemy)

OK. I’ve finally been moved to respond to the “Stop Snitching” segment that appeared on 60 minutes recently. I was avoiding it until now because this would make the third post in a row that I’ve had to defend hip-hop to one degree or another. But, after five full days, the story continues to stick in my craw.

If you saw the segment, you might be moved to believe that an entire generation of young, black inner-city inhabitants is being led down the path of self-destruction, Pied piper-style, by rappers like Busta Rhymes and Cam’ron. Apparently, the programmers at 60 Minutes would like you to buy into the idea that fans of hip hop are being encouraged to not cooperate with the police if they witness a crime being committed. Regarding this particular illusion, allow me to employ a recently resurrected reference to the infamous 1978 mass murder/suicide in Jonestown, Guyana: “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid.” I won’t bore you with detailing the numerous problems with the piece. I would, however, like to make a few quick points.

“Justice,” as it were, is metered out quite differently on rough the urban streets of this country than it is in the state-sponsored criminal justice system. Quite a few of the young men who refuse to cooperate with police with regard to crimes like assault and homicide, even if they or their loved ones have been victimized, do so because they intend to directly exact revenge. Actually, I’m surprised that media darling Anderson Cooper didn’t take this salacious little detail into account. Imagine what kind of legs this story would have had if he’d introduced the idea that vigilantism is the law of the land in the ghettoes of the US.

Of all the cultural observers, sociologists, community advocates or thoughtful MCs 60 Minutes could have interviewed about this “phenomenon” they chose Cam’ron. Consider that for a moment. They chose Cam’ron, an inventor of ridiculous self-celebratory nursery rhymes, to explain the somewhat complicated issue of black distrust of the law enforcement machine. Next week I’m fully expecting to turn on 60 minutes and see an interview with Lil’ Kim about her thoughts on the disintegration of the black family.

Black folks and other minorities have been taught, by experience, to be wary of police. How much investigative journalism would it have taken to uncover this elusive detail? This should have been the predominant issue of the segment but it wasn’t even given a cursory examination.

Thankfully, I have access to a brother in the know, Dr. Lorenzo Boyd, a criminal justice professor at the University of Texas and an expert on community policing. He was gracious enough to arm me with a number of important facts regarding the relationship between those who police the nation’s inner cities and those who live in them. Here’s a few:

Although Blacks comprise roughly 14% of America’s population, Blacks constitute over 60% of all police arrests.
Race is one of the strongest predictors of attitudes towards the police
Black citizens in general tend to have less confidence in the police than Whites and are often skeptical of the police’s willingness or ability to protect them
In a 1998 Department of Justice Report, 67% of White respondents reported that they felt that the police treated all races fairly, while only 30% of Blacks felt that way
Public opinion polls have shown that overall Blacks tend to have a more negative view of the police than Whites, and Whites were more likely to support the use of deadly force by police than were Blacks.
Police brutality is a major source of dissatisfaction with police among both urban residents and racial minorities
Fatal shootings by police are more frequent in areas that have a large number of racial or economic underclass.
The 1992 St. Clair Commission report (examining Boston's police department) showed that race still plays a central role in the use of excessive force. The report found that during the period studied, 50 percent of complainants in the sample group were Black, while 26 percent of Boston's population was Black.
The Christopher Commission: “Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) officers frequently treat minorities differently from Whites, more often using disrespectful and abusive language, employing unnecessarily intrusive practices such as the `prone-out,' and engaging in use of excessive force when dealing with minorities" (1991).
According to the 1991 Christopher Commission Report on the Los Angeles Police Department, racial bias within the LAPD is not confined to the officer’s treatment of minority citizens, but it is also reflected in the conduct of officers towards their minority colleagues.
Minority officers are still too often subjected to racial slurs, discrimination within the police department. More than 80% of the minority officers in the Los Angeles Police Department are concentrated in “entry-level police officer ranks.”
The Christopher Commission cites a survey of which 650 officers responded. It states that approximately one-quarter of the officers responding agreed that “racial bias” (prejudice) on the part of officers towards minority citizens contributes to negative relations with the public (Christopher 1991).
The police are more likely to use full law enforcement authority (i.e., arrest) in communities that have higher percentages of minorities (Jackson and Boyd 2005).
African Americans 3x more likely than whites to experience threatened or actual force and are Hispanics more likely than whites, but less likely than African Americans, to experience either.
Police seen as unresponsive to complaints against them.
Racial & ethnic minorities often accuse police of failing to investigate, “covering up.”
Most people who believe they are a victim of police misconduct do not report it.

Lest you accuse me of being a complete pessimist, I end this with a glimmer of hope. I hope that maybe, one day, the powers that be at 60 Minutes will decide that, instead of attempts at broad cultural character assassination, they’ll dig just a little deeper into the roots of issues having to deal with black America. But until then, I’ll light a candle for Ed Bradley, continue to curse the day that Andy Rooney was born and resign myself to watching America’s Funniest Home Videos.

Getting THERE

2007-04-24T15:47:00.000-05:00

The man single-handedly responsible for the loss of 337 steps...

In 2000, comedian Chris Rock performed an extremely amusing, memorable skit called “Progress Report” on his brilliant, now-defunct 30 minute HBO variety program, The Chris Rock Show. In it, Rock tracked the social progress of black America through a series of highly publicized African-American triumphs and blunders. Rock mentions that we always hear black people lament the idea that “so-and-so set us two steps back” while other, more optimistic black folks claim that, “we’re almost THERE.” Fortunately, Rock has access to a chart provided by the fictitious American Black Progress Association so viewers can see for themselves just how far we have to go to get “THERE.” For example, according to Rock, “General Colin Powell speaking at the Republican Convention marched us twelve steps ahead.” But we can’t celebrate just yet because, “Mike Tyson speaking in public set us twenty-four steps back!”

Funny stuff. Comedy like this, as well as his infamous Bring The Pain riff on Black Folks versus “Niggers,” tapped into black middle class anxiety about how we are viewed by white America. It also skillfully reflects how much African-Americans obsess and fret over perceived black misbehavior. Unfortunately, Chris Rock’s humor regarding this issue rings true. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard a black person say of the ill-considered actions of another black person, ‘They make me ashamed to be black,’ or ‘They’re setting us back,’ I’d be ri…well, I’d have a few hundred dollars.

Try as I might, I just can’t seem to convince some of my people just how absurd a sentiment this is. Apart from being divorced from history (after all, how much do we have to accomplish before we’re “accepted”) it’s also an overblown reaction to our own self-consciousness. Try to imagine a scenario in which white Americans as a collective murmur under their breaths that David Koresh, John Wayne Gacy, Steve Bartman or Anna Nicole Smith have set them back. Or imagine a world in which whites still feel a sense of communal guilt over what their ancestors did to Native Americans. You can’t, can you? Yet, here we stand, seven years into the new millennium, willing to condemn our entire race because of a few, relatively insignificant, yet widely and regularly reported black guffaws.

This is not just wrong. It is symptomatic of the divisive self-disdain that permeates the entire culture of middle and upper-middle class black America. When columnist Jason Whitlock suggested moving the NBA All-Star Game overseas, “David Stern seriously needs to consider moving the event out of the country for the next couple of years in hopes that young, hip-hop hoodlums would find another event to terrorize. Taking the game to Canada won't do it. The game needs to be moved overseas, someplace where the Bloods and Crips and hookers and hoes can't get to it without a passport and plane ticket,” he explained, in no uncertain terms, that he, and people of his ilk, have no use for poor blacks (I guess Jason hasn’t been to any European football games in which black players are subjected to “monkey calls” and bananas being thrown at them by racist – though decidedly non-hip-hop – whites). Unfortunately, this sentiment seems to be at the center of the current push to sanitize hip-hop lyrics.

Honestly, part of me wants this new Delores Tucker-inspired movement to succeed. After that, when the social, behavioral ills that are borne out of poverty continue to plague black communities, hip-hop can’t be used as a convenient scapegoat. Maybe then, at long last, those of us black folks who dream of getting THERE will realize that we all have to do our part to bring the rest of those “niggers” with us.

Whitlock The Enabler

2007-04-12T00:57:00.000-05:00

Time to wake up, Jason.

Jason Whitlock is wrong. Again.

In an article published Wednesday, April 11, Jason Whitlock, columnist for the Kansas City Star and former talking head for ESPN, uses the recent Don Imus uproar as an excuse to launch a scorched Earth attack against hip hop, Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton and gangsterism run amock. Whitlock offers his thanks to Don Imus who, unwittingly, "..extended Black History Month to April, and we can once again wallow in victimhood, protest like it’s 1965 and delude ourselves into believing that fixing your hatred is more necessary than eradicating our self-hatred."

Where to begin?

First, Whitlock erroniously dismisses Don Imus as "irrelevant". This is a man who has been in radio (and more recently, television) for over 30 years, has been named one of the 25 greatest talk radio hosts of all time, regularly invites nationally recognized politicians to his show, and has a daily listening audience of tens of millions of Americans. If Imus is irrelevant what is Whitlock?

Second, he cynically accuses Vivian Stringer and Rutgers of holding a press conference in order to recruit players. Never mind the fact that every major news provider in the country has been requesting comments/responses/interviews from and with the Rutgers team since Imus' comments became a national story. Never mind that ANY organization in the country would have scheduled a news conference to deal with the furor (e.g. Duke rape case). Also, never mind the fact that if Rutgers wants to reverse this situation and use it to their advantage it's their prerogative. They didn't bring this attention to themselves.

Third, what does hip hop have to do with Don Imus? Tell me something. Did hip hop precede the slave trade, chattel slavery in the US, the purposeful, systemic destruction of the black family, the complete obliteration of our former culture, the three-fifths of a man decision, lynching, race wars, Jim Crow, Plessy v. Ferguson, economic lockout, poll taxes, literacy tests, The Little Rock Nine, the KKK, Emmit Till, Medgar Evers, the assassinations of King and X, white flight, the myth of the "welfare queen", underfunded public schools, predatory lending, land rent schemes, rent-to-own stores, etc., etc., etc.? As usual, Whitlock latches on to anything having to do with race and uses it to bludgeon hip hop. Hip hop is and has always been a genre fueled by poverty and inequality. Does Whitlock know how hip hop began? Hip hop (think beatboxing, mcing, djing, etc.) started during the late '70s and exploded during the Reagan era (not coincidentally when Reagan began to cypher money from inner city school music programs). Prior to that, young black kids were learning to play i-n-s-t-r-u-m-e-n-t-s in school. If you can recall, Jazz used to be our rebel music - and the blues prior to that. Black kids rap because that's the only form of musical expression we were left with. And guess what? Many (NOT MOST, NOT ALL!) people who grew up in poverty tend to act ignorantly and to say ignorant things. The same is true of poor whites, Latinos, etc. Believe me, there are tons of black folks, including myself, who have a problem with the direction mainstream hip hop has taken over the course of the last decade or so. Nas, the MCs MC, even went so far as to title his latest album, "Hip Hop Is Dead". But to me, to loathe hip hop as much as Whitlock does is to loathe poor blacks. Or, as Whitlock's ideological twin, Bill Cosby, put it, "the lower economic people."

Fourth, Whitlock is wrong about Dave Chappelle. Dave Chappelle TURNED DOWN fifty million dollars because of misgivings he had about the racial direction his show was taking. I've favorably compared Chappelle's change of heart to Richard Pryor's, when Pryor visited Africa and decided to jettison the term 'nigger' from his public vocabulary. For Whitlock to actually compare politically insignificant black comedians to an influential white pundit with a history of prominent, public race-baiting is just misguided and regrettable.

Fifth, Imus only offered a public apology because of the uproar and his fear of losing corporate sponsorship - not out of any sense of genuine remorse. Imus has a track record of ugly racialized comments. This is the same guy who admitted to hiring staff specifically to make "nigger jokes." Plus, his apology was hollow. It was basically one of those, "I'm sorry for what happened" apologies. Not, "I'm sorry for the ignorant shit that I said." Who can be blamed for not accepting that?

Don't get me wrong. I agree that we have bigger fish to fry than Don Imus. Certainly drug usage, pre-marital pregnancy, single motherhood, lack of education, AIDS and other STDs, self-hatred, glorification of gansterism, misogyny, coonery, et cetera are greater issues. But these things are - like it or not - problems that have arisen and grown worse as a result of lack (or perceived lack) of economic opportunity and the brain drain that was created when our "talented tenth" integrated into the dominant culture and left the black working and lower classes behind. The black upper to middle class certainly has a lot more responsibility for this than the likes of Tupac Shakur.

Wisdom of the Wise

2006-08-21T22:07:00.000-05:00

Right On, Brother!

I’m always encouraged by white Americans who are audacious enough to publicly and earnestly call their privilege into question. As a result, I’ve become a HUGE fan of anti-racism activist, Tim Wise. Recently (well, admittedly, not THAT recently – I’m a little late to the party) Wise wrote an open letter to Sheriff Jack Strain, the unapologetic bigot who brazenly threatened to harass anyone in St. Tammany Parrish with dreadlocks or “chee-wee” hairstyles. Strain repeatedly discouraged any New Orleanian “trash” from setting up shop in St. Tammany Parish. But, as Wise amusingly points out, Strain needn’t work himself into a lather over “trash” that blows in from the Crescent City because St. Tammany has enough garbage of its own – garbage that isn’t identified by predominantly African-American hairstyles.

Not long ago, I wrote a post celebrating the efforts of an amazing young man and the seemingly limitless potential of human beings. Wise’s article reminds me that there are plenty of awesome people out there speaking, writing, blogging and dialoguing, and who are pretty remarkable in their own right. They deserve to be heard (and read).

An Open Prayer for the Survival of Priceless Semen

2006-08-16T19:10:00.000-05:00

Onward Christian Surgeon

Dear God:

Despite my frequent (and exceedingly valid) criticisms of the culture of American Sport, as you well know I continue to enjoy the occasional professional football game, celebrate the individual athleticism of NBA basketball and back the illustrious team of my youth, the New York Yankees.

As a result of this inexplicable allegiance to that which I often denounce, I regularly tune in to the ESPN network’s broadcasts of “Pardon the Interruption” and “Sportscenter”. Yesterday, while watching the latter, I was encouraged to hear that the health of Kentucky Derby winner, Barbaro, seems to be improving at a rate expected neither by his physicians nor the general public. Barbaro is back on his hoofs(!), God, and I can’t thank You enough for allowing this mighty steed to buck the odds, as it were, and speed toward recovery. Truly, the numerous candle-lit prayer vigils have convinced You, in all Your infinite wisdom, to watch over Barbaro and see to it that his obscenely wealthy owner does not lose the potential millions that he stands to gain once he begins auctioning Barbaro’s sperm to the highest bidder.

How else, Lord, can one explain the extravagant, round-the-clock medical care that Barbaro has received since he first injured himself some three months ago. Although approximately 46 million Americans, or 15.7 percent of the population, are without health insurance, Barbaro underwent a costly surgical procedure as soon as it was made available.

Soon, even the non-sports networks were providing updates about Barbaro’s condition and viewers were treated to images of countless well-wishers signing get well cards, singing, joining hands, and hoping for the best. Only Your unseen hand could have delivered Barbaro from death, sparing his owner the financial setback from which he would have, undoubtedly, immediately bounced back given the elaborate insurance policy that he had taken out on the life of the horse.

Yet, God, you just won’t allow Barbaro to go gently into that good, equestrian night. Despite all odds, it looks as if he’ll pull through and fulfill his destiny as a valuable and highly desirable stud. I’m sure if Barbaro could speak, along the lines of say, Mr. Ed, he would praise your name prior to every premium ejaculation. But he can’t, Lord, so I must take it upon myself to sing Your praises.

Your Faithful Servant,

ACT

Killing The Redskins

2006-08-15T07:22:00.000-05:00

The Cleveland Injuns thank you for your continued support.

I wonder if any current football or baseball teams would be named the Atlanta Tarskins or the Carolina Nigger Feet if the American South had either successfully maintained its’ “right” to own slaves or peacefully seceded from the Union.

I submit to you that neither of these names is any more offensive than the Washington Redskins. Yesterday, a group of Native Americans filed a petition with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office to cancel the trademarks for the Washington Redskins football team, saying the name is disparaging to indigenous groups. The petition, filed with the Trademark Trial and Appeal Board in Alexandria, Virginia, cites “extensive evidence concerning the history of the use of the term ‘Redskin’ and public perception of the objectionable term.” Incidentally, check out how the story is framed. Susan Decker and Curtis Eichelberger of Bloomberg News want to reassure their readership that only SIX little Indians want the name changed. I immediately asked myself why this should be important considering that the six undoubtedly represent a much larger contingent of folks who object to a racist slur being used as a team name.

At any rate, unsurprisingly, a recent USA Today poll shows that approximately 80% of respondents a) don’t have a problem with the name “Redskins” and b) wish to continue the name’s “tradition.” This doesn’t shock me. America (read: White America) has never really copped to its systematic, government-sponsored attempt to exterminate Native Americans, its “tradition” of “killing the Indian to save the man” or its “tradition” of race-based privilege.

What I do find confounding is the tenacity with which so many African-American fans of the team support the team name. When I lived in the Washington Metropolitan area, I was astonished by the typical African-American reaction to suggestions that the name of the local team be changed. Responses generally ranged from glossy-eyed apathy to dogged, pathological defense of both the name and the logo.

I’ve often asked myself what we have to gain from the continued marginalization of Native Americans. Historically, African-Americans and Native Americans have had both a cooperative relationship and a common enemy. Indeed, many black folks will be the first ones to let you know that they have some Native American ancestry. Why then don’t black folks in DC see the larger picture?

Noam Chomsky proffered a compelling argument regarding how our sports culture depoliticizes us. He spoke about how at any point during the day we can tune into our local radio sports program and be privy to the Average Joe’s complex, in-depth analysis of the players and teams for which he roots. He goes on to note that Joe Sixpack does not generally defer to the experts with regard to his sports-related opinions ,“ they're quite happy to have an argument with the coach of the Boston Celtics, and tell him what he should have done, and enter into big debates with him and so on. So the fact is that in this domain, people somehow feel quite confident, and they know a lot - there's obviously a great deal of intelligence going into it.” Chomsky argues that we are locked out of the things to which we otherwise might apply our intelligence, e.g. politics, so we adapt by becoming intellectually devoted to baseball or football.

Moreover, according to Chomsky, sports provide another, more important function. They serve to nurture our jingoistic tendencies and help us develop “irrational loyalties” beginning at a very early age. From Chomsky:

“But the point is, this sense of irrational loyalty to some sort of meaningless community is training for subordination to power, and for chauvinism. And of course, you're looking at gladiators, you're looking at guys who can do things you couldn't possibly do - like, you couldn't pole-vault seventeen feet, or do all these crazy things these people do. But it's a model that you're supposed to try to emulate. And they're gladiators fighting for your cause, so you've got to cheer them on, and you've got to be happy when the opposing quarterback gets carted off the field a total wreck and so on. All of this stuff builds up extremely anti-social aspects of human psychology. I mean, they're there; there's no doubt that they're there. But they're emphasized, and exaggerated, and brought out by spectator sports: irrational competition, irrational loyalty to power systems, passive acquiescence to quite awful values, really. In fact, it's hard to imagine anything that contributes more fundamentally to authoritarian attitudes than this does, in addition to the fact that it just engages a lot of intelligence and keeps people away from other things.”

That explains a lot. Namely, why franchise owners can extort a city for hundreds of millions of dollars to build new stadiums with little to no backlash. Or why we draw up elaborate, imaginary divisions with folks based on the team for which they root. Or why we keep paying more money each year for a diminishing product. Or why we continue to cheer when our favorite teams treat their players like interchangeable ingredients in a stew. Or why we periodically unleash our collective fury on players who hold out for more money but give owners a free pass. Our how a stadium full of otherwise rational people can be convinced to make “Indian” whooping noises and chopping motions with their hands. Our why we allow some jackass to put feathers in his hair, and jump around at halftime like an idiot, and think he’s somehow paying homage to Native Americans.

Given all this, it is hardly shocking that people who should know better, who should, in fact, be among the first to recognize how a name like “Redskins” dehumanizes our Native American brethren, serve as apologists for those in power who seek to keep it. Indoctrination and socialization have done such a number on us that we exalt meaningless, often faceless, sports clubs and their logos over other human beings based on the premise that anyone who’s offended by this stuff is just too sensitive. History (depending on who writes it) won’t be kind.

Loserman

2006-08-09T11:16:00.000-05:00

“Kiss my sorry ass goodbye, Congress!”

Do you smell that? It’s the unmistakable scent of Joe Lieberman’s feckless, centrist corpse decomposing in the Connecticut summer sun.

Just six years after the moldy Senator, along with his running mate, the newly repackaged Al Gore, capitulated his way into a curious 2000 election “loss” (don’t get me started on that) the good people of the Nutmeg State decided not to prop him up for a fourth term.

Not altogether stunning, really, when you consider that Lieberman has done nothing but placate both big business and the Bush administration over the course of the last six years and counting. You know you’re treading on thin ice when you're a Fox News regular. But he rang his own death knell with his ingratiating support of Bush’s War. His “stay the course” rhetoric increasingly distanced him from his constituency and his country, culminating (finally!) in his ouster at the hands of fellow Democrat Ned Lamont.

Ironically, Lieberman plans to run as an independent, vowing not to give up without a fight. Too bad he didn’t show the same resolve when he and Gore had a national presidential election stolen from them via the disfranchisement of African-American Floridians.

The Book List

2006-08-07T15:28:00.000-05:00

Don’t take the short cut on this one.

I want to start by thanking Changeseeker for motivating me to get going on my posting again. Some of you may have noticed that I haven’t written anything lately. I simply haven’t been interested. Sometimes I feel that I’m shouting into a void and no one is listening. But don’t cry for me, Argentina. I’ve felt this way before and I’ve bounced back.

At any rate, I’ve been “tagged” to list some of my favorite books by Changeseeker. As she wrote, my list of faves would probably evolve from day to day. This is what I’m digging currently:

(1) One book that changed your life? The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Malcolm X and Alex Haley.

(2) One book you have read more than once? Backlash by Susan Faludi.

(3) One book you would want on a desert island? 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

(4) One book that made you laugh? I have to give three. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Macguire and A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole and Still Life With Woodpecker by Tom Robbins.

(5) One book that made you cry? This really isn’t a book. It’s a short story but the first time I read it I cried like a baby. “D.P.” by Kurt Vonnegut.

(6) One book you wish you had written? There’s no way to name just one. This will essentially be a short list of some of the things I’ve read that I’ve found moving and convinced me that people are here for a purpose: All of the Shakespearian tragedies, From Slavery to Freedom by John Hope Franklin and Alfred A. Moss Jr., Heat Wave by Eric Klinenberg, A Mathematician Reads The Newspaper by John Allen Paulos, The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins, Death and The King’s Horseman (a play) by Wole Soyinka, The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin.

(7) One book you wish had never been written? The Bell Curve by Richard J. Herrstein and Charles Murray because it attempted (unfortunately somewhat successfully) to lend an air of scientific credibility to racism. Incidentally, check out how many Amazon.com reviewers find this book "insightful" and "thought-provoking." Tells you alot about folk's willingness to embrace racist beliefs as long as they're wrapped in pseudoscience.

(8) One book you are currently reading? The Thanatos Syndrome by Walker Percy.

(9) One book you've been meaning to read? Gumbo Ya-Ya: Folk Tales of Louisiana by Saxon, Dreyer and Tallant.

(10) And tag five bloggers to do this, too. Will do.

The Sound of Human Potential

2006-07-20T16:57:00.000-05:00

I don’t often get the opportunity to marvel at the seemingly limitless potential of human beings to overcome severe personal obstacles. Usually, I’m motivated to write by cruelty, bigotry, foolishness, excess, crookery or some combination thereof. This post is different. A friend recently sent me a simply remarkable story (pulled from People Magazine, of all sources) about a young, blind man named Ben Underwood who uses echolocation to navigate the world around him. That’s right. Echolocation. Up until now, I’ve only heard this term applied to bats and dolphins as a way by which they emit high-pitched sounds to determine the distance and location of objects. In short, it’s the way these animals use sound to replace sight.

According to this incredible story, Ben Underwood a fourteen year old kid from Sacramento who, as a result of retinal cancer, has been completely blind since age three, is able to use echolocation to walk and run around, play basketball and video games, skateboard and perform a wide range of tasks without assistance from others. The authors of the article, Alex Tresniowski and Ron Arias write:

“Ben has learned to perceive and locate objects by making a steady stream of sounds with his tongue, then listening for the echoes as they bounce off the surfaces around him. About as loud as the snapping of fingers, Ben's clicks tell him what's ahead: the echoes they produce can be soft (indicating metals), dense (wood) or sharp (glass). Judging by how loud or faint they are, Ben has learned to gauge distances.”

It’s difficult for me to explain the joy I felt while reading this piece. Learning about Ben’s resourcefulness and courage was like receiving a salve. Here’s a young brother with prosthetic eyes whose motto is, “I’m not blind. I just can’t see,” and believes he can accomplish anything in this life that he chooses to undertake.

Yet, I’m certainly no Pollyanna. I realize the hardships that Ben will have to endure as he negotiates relationships or career, and the difficulties he’ll face when he leaves the nest and clambers into adulthood. I also recognize that he may occasionally be stymied by the pity, condescension and low expectations of others. But my hope is that Ben will surmount those challenges in much the same way that he has compensated for his blindness – with character and resolve. I also hope that those of us, like me, who are too often distracted by inanity and immorality, will, by Ben’s example, have their hope in human nature renewed. If only fleetingly.

Never Ignorant Getting Goals Accomplished, That Is!

2006-07-16T21:15:00.000-05:00

The Next Logical Step In The Evolution Of The Brand

I’d like to begin by saying that this is one of those topics that I generally try to avoid. Not because I think it’s completely unimportant. It’s just that I assume it should be obvious to everyone that white folks who don’t want to be mistaken for Klan members or neo-Nazis should avoid using the term nigger – or any of its derivatives – like they avoid E. Lynn Harris novels. Of course, by now, I should know better than to assume. I received this little gem in my email inbox a few days ago.

Now, I can almost hear some of my brethren saying, “See!?!?!? If WE didn’t use the term so liberally, then white folks wouldn’t have any excuse!” I’ve heard a few white people make this claim myself. After all, nigger is one of the few words that many of them still dare not say in mixed company. For well-meaning whites, it’s become taboo. So, when they hear some black people using it without forethought, they feel, somehow, cheated. They think that if it’s OK for us to use, it should be OK for them. Fair is fair.

Forgive me for saying so, but this is simply bullshit. White people have never needed any rationale for applying the term nigger to those of us with dark skin. Even if every loudmouth knucklehead and Post-Tupac MC on the planet placed a moratorium on the usage of the word, many white folks would still (some amongst themselves, some not) gleefully refer to black folks as niggers.

Fundamentally, I think that many of them are simply fascinated by the word and the power that they have, when they use it, to disrupt the equilibrium of black folks and others who might be offended by it. The word nigger, in the mouth of a white person, is a grenade. I don’t know of any black person who wouldn’t react to it, to one degree or another, if he or she overheard a white person saying it. Even those of us who haven’t the words to articulate it inherently know that when a white person says “nigger” he or she is affirming kidnapping, The Middle Passage, slavery, rape, murder, castration, branding, mutilation, lynching, eugenics, Jim Crow, white supremacy, segregation, Plessy v. Ferguson, Poll Taxes, dogs, hoses, profiling, etc. In short, whenever a white person, no matter how thoughtlessly, uses the term, they are shouting, “WHITE POWER,” loudly and decisively.

I have the feeling that this teacher who casually called his student a “nigga” knew exactly what he was doing. Even if he heard thousands of his black students inquire of each other, “Can a nigga borrow a pencil?” he should have known that this didn’t give him any unwritten permission to invoke the term. He was simply doing what whites have done for hundreds of years. It’s just too bad that he’ll probably get away with it.

Regarding My Grandfather's Death

2006-07-11T06:03:00.000-05:00

I have been unusually fortunate in that neither I nor anyone in my immediate family have ever been extremely ill. My mother recently commented that some unknown ancestor of my father’s must have done something right because, as a whole, my clan has been overwhelmingly hearty. This prodigious health has generally been shared by everyone on my father’s side of the family, including my grandfather, who lived much longer than average. Yet, his death has become a sensitive subject for his children because it is believed by some of them to have been expedited by quietly racist healthcare treatment.

In the fall of 2001, my paternal grandfather died in a Southside Chicago hospital room. Although, towards the end of his life, he battled many illnesses, he officially succumbed to a myocardial infarction – a standard heart attack. He was 96 years old.

My grandfather was born in Alabama in 1906 to Morris and Ruby. He was their first child and would, eventually, become the oldest of nine. At the time of his birth, The Civil War had only ended 41 years earlier and Southern attempts at Reconstruction had been abandoned a mere 29 years beforehand. Life in the South for African-Americans at that time was almost unendurable. Of the many racist atrocities that my grandfather suffered and witnessed, one of the stories he told was particularly upsetting. When he was about seventeen years old, he was walking on a road with his friend when a group of whites drove by in a car. Although my grandfather and his companion stepped aside to allow them to pass, the driver of the car yelled out a racist obscenity and intentionally attempted to run the boys over. My grandfather managed to avoid the car but his friend was not so fortunate. The car struck and killed him. No charges were filed and the family of the child who was murdered received no justice or compensation. My grandfather talked about this incident without anger or sadness. This, according to him, was simply the lot of Southern blacks at that time.

My grandfather rarely discussed his parents (I later learned that this reluctance to reveal any information about one’s family was not unique to him. Many African-American Southern expatriates of his generation eschewed self-disclosure. For them, the less strangers knew, the less trouble it could lead to) so not much is known about Morris and Ruby. What is common knowledge is that – for reasons unknown, but probably due to financial hardship – Morris and Ruby packed up and moved North to the Chicago area during the first World War. They, like many newly transplanted African-Americans settled on Chicago’s South Side and Morris found work in a meatpacking plant. Prior to moving to Chicago, Morris worked, occasionally, as a carpenter and was reluctant to abandon a skill that he believed to be infinitely more valuable than factory work. It can be surmised that my great-grandfather was an ideological student of Booker T. Washington, who promoted the idea that the road to black self-betterment was through the acquisition of vocational skills. As soon as he was able, Morris left the factory and worked as a carpenter – a trade that he convinced young Arthur to pursue as well.

My grandfather recalls that he took to carpentry, “like a fish to water,” and soon became a talented carpenter in his own right. Morris and Arthur worked as father and son until Morris’s death in the mid 1930s. As the oldest child, it fell on my grandfather to become the primary provider for Ruby and all of the children. This he did with great focus and maturity. In addition to carpentry, he became a barber and, later, a mechanic. It was these skills that enabled his family to survive the loss of his father and negotiate the Depression.

In fact, my grandfather was a man who was rich in skills. As an adult, he moved to Gary, Indiana and built his own house, a house that still stands and functions to this day. He wired it with electricity, installed the plumbing system, built a screened-in porch and planted a prosperous garden. Yet, as sociologist Kai T. Erikson explains, my grandfather was “uncomfortable in those corners of the universe where words and symbols have replaced everyday experience as the coin of intelligence.” As a result, in later years when his hands betrayed him and manual dexterity left, my grandfather found that he lacked the transferable skills to keep himself and his own family afloat like he had done with his mother and siblings. For the last roughly twenty-five years of his life, my grandfather, always a proud, independent man, was forced to rely upon several of his children to make ends meet.

I was not present for the death of my grandfather. I was told that he was at peace and was “ready to leave.” Yet, my father and a few of my uncles are convinced that my grandfather received a different class of care. They argue that more assertive medical treatment and an emphasis on preventative care could have prolonged his life. According to them, it was as if my grandfather’s healthcare providers had determined that 90 years on this Earth was enough for a black man and let his health deteriorate. They believe that if my grandfather had been white, he would probably still be alive today. Obviously, my family will never be able to ascertain whether or not this is the truth. But the fact that my grandfather’s physicians were all white, and that white physicians are generally more likely to administer thorough examinations to whites than they are to blacks, makes my father and his brothers skeptical that every measure was taken to preserve his life.

I have always found it amazing that my grandfather lived such a long life given all that he’d experienced. It has only recently occurred to me that perhaps the reason my grandfather lived so long is because he never seemed bitter. He never seemed to internalize any of the destructive racist barbs that society aimed at him and everyone he knew. I asked my father why this was so and he said that it would simply have been suicidal to my grandfather and his family for him to fixate on racial issues. In a very real sense he had to rely on whites for his survival. He intrinsically recognized that it would be unhealthy for him to harbor animosity towards them. As a result, he regarded whites with suspicion but never resentment. Further, although he did prepare his children to face a world in which many would be acrimonious to them because of the color of their skin, he did not teach them to hate or fear. It is, therefore, both tragic and ironic that the circumstances surrounding his death have left his children feeling anger and bitterness.

Kenneth Lay Takes the Easy Way Out (Again)

2006-07-05T15:20:00.001-05:00

Enjoy that executive suite in Hell, buddy!

Ken Lay, the dishonored founder of Enron whose deceit and double dealings cost 4,000 employees their jobs, and many of them their entire life savings, died of a massive coronary this morning.

I know some of you think that this heart attack is cause for celebration. I don’t. I think that the sweet release of death is too good for this disgraced, fraudulent scoundrel. I would have preferred a nice, lengthy jail term, let’s say about forty years. Besides, a heart attack is not a moral indictment. There are plenty of benevolent people who die of heart attacks. I know at least five people who have lived pretty decent lives and suffered the same fate as Lay. And when their turn came to meet their maker, they weren’t relaxing in one of their vacation homes or receiving the best medical care that money can buy.

In fact, I wonder how many former Enron employees have died, or seen a sharp decline in their health as a direct result of losing their jobs and their savings. I wonder how many of them will have to sit through the inevitable eulogies that try to make this asshole look like a tragic figure who, like Oedipus, was simply overcome by his circumstances. Lest you think I exaggerate, I offer you proof that some have already begun the post mortem exoneration process. From Bloomberg: “Lay's death robs his family of any chance to proceed with his appeal to attempt to clear his name by reversing the conviction,” said Houston defense attorney Joel Androphy, who followed the trial. “Legally, he may have gotten his good name back, but publicly he did not,'' he said. “People will view this as the ultimate sentence.”

So now you see where this is headed. If Kenneth Lay had murdered two or three people in cold blood, no one would be describing him, like Ben Richardson of the BBC, as a “fallen hero.” He would be accurately depicted as a piece of garbage. But Lay didn’t get his hands dirty. He simply ruined the futures of thousands of people and was fortunate enough to not have to spend one single day in prison because of it. Let’s not allow the media to turn this guy into Achilles.

Raising the Maximum Wage

2006-07-02T16:37:00.000-05:00

Corporate Confetti

Last week, I ran across two stories that caught my attention. The first was a summary of an “analysis” that found that chief executives of large companies made 262 times the average worker's annual pay. This worked out to be about $42,000 a day. From the opposite end of the supposed free market, there came news that the Senate struck down a measure to raise the federal minimum wage. It currently stands at $5.15/hr, just as it has for the last 9 years. So, I guess this led me to the question that some of you may have. Why don’t we really give a damn that there are people out there busting their asses in exchange for a five dollar bill and fifteen pennies an hour?

First, an answer from the other side. I spoke with a diehard Republican regarding this issue and he seems to think that there’s really no need to raise the minimum wage. He argues that minimum wage positions are supposed to be occupied by teens who are just entering the workplace on a temporary basis while they secure their financial futures via education.

On its surface, this argument seems to hold water. Most of us have, at some point in our youth, worked at some slave-wage hole-in-the-wall that convinced us to pursue an education or gain some skills that would allow us to forever turn our backs on that kind of vocation. Indeed, many of us are currently fortunate enough to be able to share that experience with our children so that they can understand the value of perseverance. The major problem with this idea, though, is that there’re a ton of people who have either lost decent jobs for any number of reasons (to line the pockets of the already-rich, because positions were sent overseas, or, my favorite, the company decided to go in “another direction” – namely away from YOU) and who are forced to work wherever they can. Not many of us could wait for an adequate replacement if we were to lose our jobs tomorrow. More than likely, we’d have to find something and hold on to it just to get by.

Another major glitch in this line of reasoning is that it assumes that everyone has equal access to education, or to the development of marketable, transferable skills. It’s a comforting assumption that absolves those of us who don’t wish to complicate our lives with empathy, or who benefit, directly or indirectly, from the exploitation of low wage earners.

Also, there’s what many Realtors refer to as location. Some areas just have more jobs than others. So, for instance, if you’re unfortunate enough to have been working for a car manufacturer that decided to eliminate your well-paying job, and said car manufacturer was the only game in town, AND you’ve got a family a mortgage and a couple of car notes, you’re probably not going to find a quick, commiserate replacement for your paycheck at the local Piggly Wiggly.

But, to be honest, the fundamental problem that I have with this standard Republican objection to raising the minimum wage is that it blames the poor. The idea that “these people” are completely at fault for their condition is pervasive, (indeed, I can recall sitting in a college classroom listening to people make the case that society needs poor people) and is the primary reason why we haven’t seen a minimum wage increase in over nine years.

We Americans are a peculiar lot. Despite all sociological and personal evidence to the contrary, we avidly nurse the myth of the industrious, self-made millionaire who, despite all odds, pulled himself up by the bootstraps to control his own financial destiny. Even though the only things that separate many of us from $5.15 an hour are the whims of the faceless executives at the tops of the companies that employ us, we feel no solidarity with our low wage brethren. Since most of us assume that we’re safely lodged in the middle class, we believe that all we need to move up a notch or two and retire early (or at least comfortably) is some combination of pluck, perseverance or diligence. Horatio Alger would be proud of us.

In the meantime, as we continue to work longer hours for less pay, less leave, fewer benefits and vacation hours, and shrinking or completely nonexistent retirement funds, the corporate fat cats who are responsible for our deprivation are being rewarded to the tune of $42,000.00 a day. Ain’t life grand?