Showing posts with label black in america. Show all posts
Showing posts with label black in america. Show all posts

Monday, July 15, 2013

Like George Zimmerman, I Walk Away From The "Trayvon Martin Trial" With A Peculiar Look On My Face

"With the same sword they knight you, they gon' good night you with." - Jay Z

  • The Pilgrims weren't so friendly, eh? Last year, I touched upon the reality of young black males in America and quietly concluded that George Zimmerman would be acquitted of murder charges against Trayvon Martin. I did so, after weighing the fact that it took a monumental effort on behalf of concerned individuals everywhere to force the State of Florida to pursue charges against the defendant in the first place. Well, the verdict arrived and Curious George was found not guilty by a jury of his peers. A disheartening decision to say the least but I imagine the Universe owed the long arms of injustice a favor after the infamous OJ Simpson verdict in '95. Unlike Simpson's famed attorney Johnnie Cochran - who delivered a stimulating closing argument on behalf of his client, Florida's prosecuting attorney John Guy strangely asked jurors if this is where we are as a society, implying the day and age in White America where an adult armed with a legal firearm can racial-profile, follow, harass an innocent teenager, then take said child's life? A question to which I'd look him directly in the eyes and reply: Sir, where the fuck you've been? On the moon? 

  • Do I believe Trayvon Martin pulled Zimmerman's Ho Card on that fateful night? Damn skippy. Trayvon hit the "creepy ass cracker" with everything but the kitchen sink, as he should, as anyone should, whenever one feels endangered. Would I pull the trigger if someone was atop me, smashing my head in the concrete? Definitely. That individual will die before I will. But do I believe Trayvon jumped out of the bushes and punched Curious George in the face and asked for trouble? Fuck no. A frightened Trayvon ran away from Zimmerman's direction - remember Trayvon telling Rachel he was almost home, which in all probability raised Zimmerman's adrenaline level even more so, to the point where he tackled Trayvon, cause he was tired of "these effing punks always getting away." "Get off me, get off me," so said Trayvon. If I am a "wanna be" police officer toting a gun and approached by an individual whom I believe is up-to-no-good, the last thing in the world that suspicious individual will be able to do is get up on me. Unless, of course, I initiated physical contact cause I wanted to be hailed as a hero by real police and "my hero" to the cute little blonde that testified on my behalf. If we apply common sense, apparently unwelcomed in Florida courtrooms, then we reflect upon that fateful night in Sanford, Florida and know in our hearts that Zimmerman was the one who placed Trayvon in a compromised position where he'd surely be murdered. Of this I am certain. 

  • I would like to converse with Channa Lloyd, the third-year law student who served as a legal intern on Zimmerman's defense counsel, but not for reasons that most will probably expect. I'd simply ask the sista if she realized the defense used her as a pawn and what if anything she believed Trayvon could've done differently. I'd like to shake the hand of Martin family attorney Benjamin Crump whose inspired efforts brought much-needed media attention and a brother sincerely distraught by the verdict. I would not shake the hand of anyone trying the case, though. If we return to the lost art of common sense, then we know of the half-hearted effort shown by such top-notch prosecutors. Exactly what case was being tried? Who really was on trial here? Trayvon Martin? Young Black Males? Lastly, I would love to hug the parents of the deceased. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, after George Zimmerman, Geraldo Rivera, Don Lemon, Nancy Grace, Piers Morgan, the angry black lady on TV sporting the Queen Latifah hat, Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, NAACP, well-paid lawyers, rappers, politicians, activist, Facebook, Twitter, bloggers, protesters, media, church members, jurors, and all the king's horses and all the king's men have made it home safely, Sybrina Fulton and Tracy Martin are the only ones who gotta live with the fact that their son was never afforded that same opportunity. A guilty verdict would not have changed that dark reality.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

What's a King without a Crown?

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown." - Shakespeare

  • Beyonce is who we thought she was. I swear to God she is. On Sunday night in NOLA, Beyonce rocked the mainstage at '13 Essence Festival with hit after hit, after hit, after hit, after hit, after hit, after hit, long past the midnight hour. She covered all the bases, leaving no stone unturned. Trill. In my lifetime, I've never witnessed an entertainer as emblematic as the King of Pop. But MJ is gone. It's now Beyonce who wears the once-thought-to-be unattainable crown.

  • Piers Morgan made an excellent observation concerning the George Zimmerman's trial. He posed the question of what if Trayvon Martin was a young black female followed on a dark, rainy night by a strange man and a confrontation occurred which led to the scared child being murdered after attacking the stranger. Would the stranger be underneath the jail, by now? Of course he would. Unfortunately, there is a particular "defining" which hangs over the heads of young black males, or black men in general, here in America. It's not a crown, I assure. 

  • Speaking of black men, no matter who, what, when, where, why or how negatively I might feel about whatever brother, for whatever reasons, I quietly applaud all successful black men in this cold universe of Good, Bad, and no in-between, based on the simple fact that I know ascent is routinely met with an equal amount of descent along the way. In the South or if you're from the South, most definitely. 

  • Speaking of descent, while standing in the kitchen on the night of the 4th of July eating barbecue, I heard a loud, thump-like sound coming from the bedroom nearest the kitchen. To my surprise, a bullet lodged itself in the ceiling over the bed, apparently after having entered thru the roof area. I had no idea that stray bullets descended with such velocity. Scary how no one on the street heard a single gunshot. 

  • Before returning to college over a year ago, I shared serious concerns upon whether I'd remain passionate towards academia. Since I'm not as academically-inclined or aiming for a particular career or anything upon completion, not really, just more or less tying loose ends, I wondered the source of much-needed passion. So, to see myself as engaged in my studies as I am, it reminds me of what my woman often refers to as "acquired taste." 

  • "The greatest weapon anyone can use against us is our own mind by preying on the doubts and uncertainties that already lurk there." Hmm. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that quote perfectly describes "politics" and "religion," which in my humble opinion are two of the biggest forms of public corruption in America, as currently witnessed. I personally feel as if each faction somewhat forces one to view life as a mere replica of reality, while trying to make it life-like. Im-fucking-possible.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

I See What You Did Here: A Few Thoughts on Trayvon, George, and Florida's Stand Your Ground Law

"I meant that I was going in the same direction as him to keep an eye on him." - George Zimmerman

  • I am trying to remain open-minded concerning the close-minded trial that reluctantly seeks justice for the deceased, despite no initial charges being filed on behalf of the State of Florida against Zimmerman, minus public outcry. Florida's narrow-minded Stand Your Ground law apparently saw no fault in Zimmerman's actions or, I should say, side of the story. In my lifetime I cannot recall ever witnessing a court proceeding where defense attorney's relied surprisingly on the testimony of real-live detectives. 

  • I gotta say: no matter how favorable or unfavorable one feels about a particular defendant - in this case, Curious George, all evidence must be examined, cross-examined, flipped, ignored, twisted, doubted, placed in a spin cycle, then tried heavily upon what-you-hope-are discernible beliefs of jurors, before a verdict is rendered. Still, somehow, someway, I will forever believe that Zimmerman could have avoided firing a bullet into Martin's chest.

  • Rachel Jeantel endured unnecessary scrutiny inside and outside the courtroom against the grain of gentility after she courageously took the stand to testify on behalf of her senselessly murdered friend. Much criticism of which fell from the lips of two-faced people sporting the same color of skin as she does. Well, let's say Trayvon carried himself in the same subjective manner as Jeantel? Would it really matter? Of course not. It only matters to the black George Zimmermans of the world. 

  • So far, I've determined Curious George, in his mind, wanted to be a police so bad that he took it upon himself to disregard advice from real police and step into the role of a trained officer on that fateful night. I hardly believed there was intent to kill, only harass, like most cops, which led to inevitable confrontation. A fight ensued, and Zimmerman quickly realized that Trayvon had "hands." Just as those same cops are known to proudly exercise dominion over could-have-all-been-avoided type of situations, I believe a suddenly embarrassed Zimmerman exercised the only form of power he possessed over Martin. The gun. You know, like real police do.

  • Whenever there is a murder involving black and non-black individuals, however tragic, there is a good chance of the race card being flashed all over the place. And, it never fails, the cardholders will question why does everything in America have to be about race? To which I reply, good question! But even I understand and accept the fact that race is clearly on trial here, unless you can point me in the direction of another as highly-publicized case where murder, doubt, black, and white people were not involved. That said, I rest my case. 

Friday, October 19, 2012

Barack Obama: I Wish I Could Use My Middle Name

President Obama tried to bond with Mitt Romney at Thursday's Alfred E. Smith dinner in New York, saying both candidates have 'unusual names.' The only difference? Romney isn't attacked for his.

Click here to view the humorous video from

Thursday, October 4, 2012

YOLO: Choose Well

Prom Night '12

Hard to believe 18 years have passed since the birth of a child who, as a toddler, laughed uninhibitedly at the top of her lungs in the company of laughter. The fact that she was too young to truly gauge whatever jokes hardly mattered. It was understood by everyone that Don and Tracy's child was different, as evident by the heart-breaking manner in which she routinely cried herself to sleep the moment someone hurt her feelings. In a way that led us to believe her heart had been stepped on and broken into a thousand little pieces. 

I took Christina's difference to be a gift, a rather compassionate one, regardless how others viewed. Often warned she was too emotionally-invested and how it was best to go ahead and nip that perceived downfall in the bud, I saw no reason to apologize for the heart of gold she thoroughly possessed. Instead, I felt it would be more convenient to nurture and protect that facet of her personality. And hopefully prevent people from taking advantage of the little girl who, as it turned out, offered everyone she met the benefit of the doubt. 

Above all, this is what I remember mostly as I come to grips with the fact that she's no longer Daddy's Little Girl. This, and our never-ending debates regarding her unspoken belief that she can somehow change the world, despite awakening to much of the same attitudes, games, politics, manipulation. At one point it became so dire that I decided to forever remove the rose-colored glasses from her eyes at the tender age of 13 and reveal the world as is. Since then, the rebellion ceased. The disagreements, a thing of the past. Christina now owns a more sounder approach towards Life, especially upon assuring her that nothing ever changes. Only the names. History teaches. 

Now that she's entered the next stage of her life - often referred to as The Breaking Point, the period where it's possible for peer pressure to hold a greater influence upon her mentality and thus behavior, I quietly wonder her decisions. I don't worry, I speculate curiously. Mainly due to the misinterpreted "You Only Live Once" calling card of today's generation which, for whatever reasons, appears to be a contrived excuse to practice plain-as-day nihilism. 

Unlike my mother I fully understand the importance of allowing a high school graduate to begin to make his or her own decisions, regardless of whether I am personally afraid of the future of society on a whole.  But how else will Christina know who she is? How else can she avoid resentment while further developing unteachable qualities such as courage, acumen, self-esteem, self-empowerment, self-consciousness,  temperance, spirituality? And perhaps the greatest lesson of all: over-reliance on others is a mistake.

As a parent and certainly afraid to see my daughter endure heartache I've come to believe that the best possible thing for me to do is remain on the sidelines, yet offer advice as requested. Which, at best, means offering step-by-step accounts of mistakes I made at a similar age. The point where my mom failed miserably. Granted, I haven't been the perfect father by any means. At times I've been impatient, unreasonable, irrelevant. But if history is to show that an apple fell from my tree, I do intend the fruit to be ripe for consumption.

Generally, it's never easy to reveal shortcomings to your child. Not only does it allows them to view dad in an unfavorable light, it also leads them to question how are you able to voice proper opinion when you yourself completely disregarded protocol. Ever notice how one reflects upon judgments - both favorable and unfavorable - and recall actions that led to experiences which, in turn, allows your intuition to alert whenever someone else travels the same road? So therefore, if I ignore my daughter's opinion and simply tell her to shut up, it only increases hypocrisy. 

Judging from all I know of Christina's inner child, the compassion remains. But, for the most part, she has lived and loved and learned enough to accept that Life is sizable and entangling. And, even better, understand the hallmark of personal journey centers around decisions.

The fact that she only lives once should never confuse the matter. 

In other words - choose well, my love. 

Graduation Day '12

Friday, June 8, 2012

Un-Lynched: Separate The Pro's from The Cons

"Hatred, slavery's inevitable aftermath." - Jose Marti
note: inspired by this Up4Dsn blog series.

The exact moment I witnessed a pair of shackles I was overcome by two chilling thoughts. One - Lord knows it couldn't have been me. The person standing before myself, winking, holding such iron-clad misery, would've received the fight of their life. For anyone to place shackles around my wrists and ankles, I swear, they'd have to break both of my arms and legs. Either that, or I'd be dead.

Secondly, I'm sure those sentiments were shared by those who became shackled. I doubt very seriously if blacks smiled and voluntarily extended body limbs as the white owners of the shackles appeared. Surely, no sane person wants to live in bondage?

If so, the person might as well cease existence.

That's when it dawned on me, the fact that shackles aren't necessarily visible. Many, including myself, walk around strapped in mental, emotional, spiritual clamps. Endlessly stuck within the grasps of our settled ways, utterly confined. And I'm willing to bet that if we stopped and looked and listened, and really thought about what I'm saying, we'd realize the key to unlock burden within our lives.

What better issues are there for blacks to tackle than those filled with social undercurrents and political overtones? It might explain why the majority are angry beyond reproach, demanding answers.

And while I imagine life visibly shackled isn't exactly a walk in the park I can't help but feel nothing is worse than invisible restraints. The difference may sound subtle, but the crabs in a barrel-mentality taking place in Black America is anything but subtle. At least with visible shackles, one can reach deep within themselves and locate the God-given key allowing inner peace. But when one's thoughts are hampered, it could possibly feel like yet another 437 years before the key is found.

Free your mind, my brothers and sisters. You'd be surprised what follows.

Friday, May 25, 2012

The Reality of Young Black Males In America

For the past month or so, I've had the privilege of discussing the shooting death of 17 year old Trayvon Martin with a few co-workers and friends, black and white. Each time, the conversation shortened among us, due to an inability to positively discuss race matters in a supposedly post-racial society. As one known for quickly getting to the heart of a matter I firmly believe in pushing the proverbial envelope, even if it means ruffling some collars. Sometimes, collars need to be ruffled. I've learned - people of all race tend to lose whatever disguises once you get under their skin, no matter the age.

"They don't give a f*ck about us" - Tupac Shakur 
For the most part, everyone agreed Martin's death could've been avoided had George Zimmerman not pursued the Florida teen as aggressively as he did. While none found problem with Zimmerman alerting authorities of "suspicious activity" while patrolling the Sanford neighborhood in his car, a few questioned his motives. What fueled Zimmerman's actions? Burglaries had previously occurred in the area.

Strangely enough, not everyone agreed Zimmerman is guilty as charged. They reasoned he had the right to defend himself, regardless of who initiated physical contact. Of course no one really knows who threw the first punch, except Zimmerman and Martin. And Martin's dead. And dead men cannot talk. So, for that reason alone, Zimmerman received benefit of the doubt, despite refusal to remain inside the vehicle as repeatedly advised.

Whites insisted Zimmerman stood his ground, while blacks argued Trayvon Martin hardly deserved to be laid face down on the ground.


If asking, I personally believe Zimmerman racial-profiled Trayvon Martin. As many do, who find themselves caught in the hype of believing all young black males are criminals. A scenario which certainly isn't unfathomable considering the stigma that exists in America. Not to mention the number of young and incorrigible black males who constantly perpetuate such widespread belief, on a whole. Thug Life, as often referred.

We don't want to go there, do we?

Problem is - Zimmerman guessed wrong. A fact that could've possibly been forgiven had he allowed officers the opportunity to do their job. If so, at least Martin might still be alive. I emphasize, might, based upon the nonchalant attitude of detectives upon witnessing Martin's dead body. We only hope those cops would've held their fire after they'd drawn and aimed guns at Trayvon Martin.

Again, let's not go there.

As George Zimmerman did.

Being the case, I ask: What if both Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman were black. Would there be such public outcry?

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Quote of The Day: Tupac Shakur

"No matter what these people say about me, my music does not glorify any image. My music is spiritual if you listen to it. It's all about emotion. It's all about life. Watch people, because you can fake for a long time. But one day you're gonna show yourself to be a phony. Measure a man by his actions, fully, from beginning to end. Don't take a piece out of my life or a song out of my music and say this is what I'm about. 'Cause you know better than that."

- Tupac Shakur

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Black History: Toni Morrison

"You wanna fly, you have to give up the shit that weighs you down."

- Toni Morrison

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Black History: Nikki Giovanni

A Poem Of Friendship

We are not lovers
because of the love
we make
but the love
we have

We are not friends 
because of the laughs 
we spend 
but the tears 
we save

I don't want to be near you 
for the thoughts we share 
but the words we never have 
to speak

I will never miss you 
because of what we do 
but what we are 

- Nikki Giovanni 

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Black History: Huey P. Newton

"You can jail a Revolutionary, but you can't jail the Revolution."

- Huey P. Newton

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Quote of The Day: Muhammad Ali

"I know where I'm going and I know the truth, and I don't have to be what you want me to be. I'm free to be what I want."

- Muhammad Ali

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Quote of The Day: W.E.B. Du Bois

"A little less complaint and whining, and a little more dogged work and manly striving, would do us more credit than a thousand civil rights bills."

- W.E.B. Du Bois

Monday, October 31, 2011

The Issue of Abortion: Two Different Outcomes, Two Different Emotions

Yesterday, I admitted to my days-away-from-being-18 year old daughter that I once pressured her mother into aborting the pregnancy back in the Spring of 1993.

This, after her mom passed along those past demands of mines to Christina for some strange reason, earlier in the week. Confused, I nonetheless sat and offered my perspective on the situation. And even shed insight towards my other experience on the subject of abortion, which occurred six years later.

Two different outcomes. Two different emotions.

I explained, we were young and bore zero intentions on being in a relationship nor did we need a child to confuse the fact. To put it bluntly, her mom and I basically had unprotected sex.

Judging from the look on Christina's face I could see she was saddened to hear me admit that, yes, if I had my way back then, her mom would've never given birth on the 5th day of November. A damning revelation which not only bothered Christina but myself as well. Yet, I'd hope she wouldn't take as personal as it appeared. Not then. Not now. Not ever.

Christina assured me that she understood, although I wasn't so sure. A fellow Scorpio I knew of her burning passion beneath the surface and the manner it brewed. Hopefully - on a thankful, non-rebellious level. So, in an effort to prove remorse and lesson learned, I confided how in 1999 I had impregnated another woman who wasn't exactly browsing baby names, either.

The only names expressed were the names of abortion clinics. Not to mention the countless number of times she called my name demanding I pay for said procedure.

To which I reluctantly did.

At the time I cannot say whether I wanted the child or not. I believed so. Though certainly not enough to raise all by my lonesome. Which the woman promised up until the unforgettable morning I drove to the New Orleans clinic, five and a half months later.

Yes. I already know. The fetus was pretty much developed. Christina repeated the same haunting fact. Afterwards, complete silence filled the room. There was no need for conversation. The collective looks of our face said it all.

Today, I'm fortunate to enjoy the invaluable presence that my daughter has always served in my life. Only months away from high school graduation and Navy training, I love her with all my heart. I imagine the feeling is mutual.

And there aren't too many days where I don't think about the other child as well. The one who regrettably never received the chance to live its life.

God forgive me.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Good Idea, Bad Idea: President Barack Obama

Good Idea
• if he never made another campaign promise in life
• to actually change
• to scrap Chicken Little approach to presidency
• show emotion; give Hulk Hogan-like State of The Union address
• to end heinous wars in Afghanistan, Iraq
• to put something behind those speeches
• offer whatever stimulus package it takes to get Biden's VP up and running
• to gon' dust his shoulders off
• if he recited Pacino's Any Given Sunday's halftime speech at next DNC
• to remember that millions upon millions of blacks voted for him

Bad Idea
• to promote another Yes We Can campaign
• to get a face tat and iced out grill
• to challenge Forrest Whitaker to a melon-eating contest, in order to prove blackness
• to take neither Sarah Palin nor Michelle Bachmann seriously
• attend Million Man March and ask, "Am I my brothers keeper?"
• showing up at Tea Party Rally, period
• to sing Star Spangled Banner, and forget the words
• to email Glen Beck his world famous bean pie recipe
• to hang portrait of Karl Marx above White House fireplace
• to listen to anything I say

Monday, September 26, 2011

That's HER P*ssy

Once, I was advised of there being a countless number of men behind bars due to the fact that neither could handle the love of his life sleeping with another man.

As disheartening as such an act of betrayal begs, I conclude, it could not be me. At the end of the day, a jail cell doesn't suffice a warm, comfortable bed.

Actually, I'd figure any man so dangerously obsessed towards a piece of pussy would do everything within his power to remain a member of the free world, where pussy resides.

There is no pussy in jail.

As men, and as it pertains to women, there's a certain possessiveness extending our hearts. No, it doesn't lend credence to popular beliefs that all men think with their sex organ. But, I admit, it does speak well on The Power of Pussy.


Truth be told it isn't the act itself which bothers. Not really. Meaning, it's not as if you are her first. Or last. It's more of the deeply satisfying look found within the eyes that clearly admit to her back being blown, regardless of anything she says.

A look revealing how she just had to have him.

What we as men must painfully understand - the woman made a choice. As bad as it were, it's hers to make.

It doesn't mean she doesn't love you in her own special way or erased plans to spend the rest of her life. All it means is some mystery man managed to catch her attention and, in the process, stimulate a nerve, so passionately.



This isn't a rally cry for sisters everywhere to sit brothers down and reveal any current or future infidelity, in the name of claiming ownership of something God giveth.

Liberation isn't necessary.

Nor should truth stand as a stunning indictment against men who kiss the ground women walk, only to have six-inch stilettos pressed onto their necks.

If anything, amid men taking lives of unfaithful women at enormously alarming rates, it's an attempt for men to basically understand one undeniable fact in Life - a woman will do whatever she likes.

The Bible reveals as much.

Whether you know it or not. Whether you like it or not.

Just because women allow men entrance into their kingdom, it doesn't add your name to the deed. She might've had your name tattooed onto her thigh. She might've even whispered into your ear and promised that it's yours, all yours.

Listen. Don't believe it.

At the end of the day, or should I say, night, it is the woman's joy. Free to share with whomever she likes.

Again, that's her pussy.

But, while we're at it, I believe there's something that each and every woman should realize as well.

That's HIS dick.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Tayshana Murphy: Remember That Name

Tayshana Murphy. Remember that name.

Actually, we've already remembered the name. There are countless numbers of Tayshana Murphys, both female and male, permanently engraved into our conscience.

Mostly black, mostly located in areas of cities where Blacks are their own worst enemy, and then some. A section otherwise known as the hood.

Where, more times than not, terms such as Hope and Tomorrow stand about as much of a chance as Dr. King standing on the balcony of a Memphis hotel in '68.

By now, I'm sure everyone has heard this tragic story of Manhattan hoops star murdered inside stairway of housing project in New York. Trying to escape attackers who mistakenly accused teen of involvement in an assault earlier in the day.

While begging for life, Tayshana's pleas were met with three gunshots which ripped through the hooded sweatshirt worn, into her skin, and silenced every dream she, family, friends and fans alike had for the 18 year old.

One can only imagine the screams heard once bad news made its ugly way home. Not cries, but screams. Loud ones. The kind surfaced from the pit of a mother's stomach after her worst fear is confirmed.

"Tayshana is dead."

Cruel words that momentarily remove all life from the body of loved ones now left to somehow carry on, as the life of another promising youth is taken at the cold hands of punk gangbangers who, graveyards show, are no longer killing themselves.

Now do you remember Tayshana Murphy?

Monday, November 22, 2010

All Eyes On Vick


Dogs. Fighting.

In essence, this is what led to NFL star quarterback Michael Vick spending 19 months inside of a federal prison in Leavenworth, Kansas. Conspiring to fight and kill vicious animals that, somewhere along the lines, were genetically tampered to do just that - fight and viciously kill one another.

A heinous crime, I heard, but you will be hard pressed to find anyone from a financially-depressed background, as Vick, who agrees. If so, I doubt very seriously if any will defend the criminal act as being callous and cruel enough to strip a man of his earnings, possessions and freedom.

Truth is - dogfighting is an urban subculture. However renegade, it has, and will continue to take place as long as pit bulls exist, especially in urban areas of America. Whether PETA, local, state, federal authorities and dog lovers alike, deems it as a crime or not.

Since it's legal to murder animals for human consumption, I wonder if Michael Vick would have been arrested if he had cooked and eaten the dogs afterward?

No, it's hardly a politically-correct line of thought, I admit. But, as the case with crime, period,  for those who endure the darker side ... life itself becomes more about surviving the struggle and less about doing the right thing. In fact, for many, the right thing to do is to survive the struggle, by any means necessary.

Education is the key - unfortunately it is not always reality, certainly not in a country which suffers from moral issues. More times than not, wayward environments lead to wayward behaviors. Children and adults are initiated into such ideology and guided through various mythologies, inviting a sometimes misguided infatuation on many different levels.

Struggles anew, warnings and advice are often unheard.

Fortunately, for Michael Vick, his direction in life was pushed at an early age through his exceptional football talents. While many of his childhood peers appeared lost in the world, Vick's athletic presence spoke of eventual fortune and fame, a lifestyle which so many troubled youths kill, die, or end up in prison trying to attain.

Not to suggest that a young Michael Vick sang in the choir every Sunday morning or helped old ladies across the streets. I'm sure he picked up his share of bad habits along the way. Whereas others ran the streets, Vick ran and performed on the football field in a manner so promising that allowed the inner psyches of others to live their dreams through his success.

At some point, I am certain Michael Vick had an idea that he'd placed himself in jeopardy through the dogfighting ring. But, as usual, it takes one incident to realize that, while Vick indeed stayed true to the game, the concept itself remained foreign to those nowhere near his position.

As often the case with enormous amounts of money, it draws enormous crowds and eyes. Hungry eyes. Many, with long arms extended in search of sentimental charity. If it's a familiar face - someone you know and somewhat trust and, let's say, grew up fighting pit bulls with, then you are susceptible to sponsoring activity that enables your homeboys and their families to live just as comfortable.

A concept otherwise known as keepin' it real, in and around the hood. If a meal ticket like Michael Vick eats, then surely his people should be eating as well. Everyone has everyone's back. Whenever. Wherever. However.

That is, until one day, a family member is pulled over by law enforcement on a simple drug charge and, due to the car being registered in the breadwinner's name, the authorities begin asking questions, demanding answers.

The one and perhaps only time where it is possible for your peeps to earn their keeps, and they fail miserably. Instead, they all agree to testify against Michael Vick and, suddenly, the walls came tumbling, with only Vick left to pick up the pieces.

As he sat alone inside of a jail cell for roughly 575 days, no one really knows the exact thoughts which entered his mind. We can only speculate. If I had to say, I imagine the majority centered around the fact that here he sat behind bars due, mostly, to the actions and inactions of the very ones whom Vick sought to keep from living a life behind bars.

Persons whom Vick hardly needed in his professional life in the first place. Exploitation can never be the basis for a long lasting friendship - a lesson which late rapper Tupac Shakur never learned. For Michael Vick's sake, let's hope that he did.

In other words: Play the game Mike, don't let the game play you.

Monday, November 8, 2010

3 Things I Wish I Could Have Witnessed

1. The Roswell UFO Incident
2. When Moses parted the Red Sea.
3. When Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus.

Question: Name three historical moments that you wish could have been witnessed?

Friday, October 8, 2010

The Black Man, The White Woman

Once upon a time in America it was considered immoral for a black man and white woman to engage in private affairs.

Most people, depending on the color of skin, viewed such activity as unimaginable and forbidden bliss. As far as they were concerned, the african male and caucasian female should have the nerves to intermingle. The thought alone was often referred to as uncivilized.

Kinda like humans involved with aliens or something. Except in this case, there is nothing extraterrestrial about either faction. Only the strange mentalities of others spoke of outer space. Both the black man and the white woman resided here on Earth.

Although the case, it remained a truth which hardly kept the union from being alienated in society.

Case in point: In 1955, Emmett Louis Till, a 14 year old child was murdered in Money, Mississippi, after being dared to speak to a white woman. Based upon such a hateful crime, one can only imagine the hardships suffered by the couples who actually married and raised children.

Children who, from all accounts, carried as much burden as their mothers and fathers.

I personally have never understood the commotion. I mean, I do, but then again, I don't. He's black. She's white. So what? Is there a written rule which states that humans shall not procreate with other humans?

Back then, it was suggested or should I say "strongly advised" that skin color branded one race more or less than the other. Nowadays, when confronted with the same statement, it will be met with resounding laughter.

In other words, we all have witnessed and experienced enough in life to understand that the color of one's skin is just that - a color.

Beneath the layer, everyone is ultimately the same. We all portray our share of good, bad, ugly. Not to mention the fact that slavery officially ended with the first negro to file a W-2 form. So, again, I am not truly understanding how there are some who, til this day, remain taken aback at the site of a black man with a white woman planted on his elbow.

Perhaps it's more of an unspoken sentiment, one which sheds light upon a dark and haunting era in history.

The part of our past which quietly whispered into our forefathers ears and claimed that white women, hailed as pure as the driven snow, should remain as such, never to be melted by the passionate and powerful thrust of black men.

In all likelihood, the voice reflected a fear birthed through insecurity. The inability to compete. Either that, or an issue centered around the notion that once Pandora's Box is opened, other white women will follow suit. Thus, removing the wrong-headed ones from within their perfect little world they had created.

And once out in the cold, they might be forced to look into their blue and green eyes and come to grips with the fact that ... no, we are not alone.

Only alone in thought.