Having lived in Tennessee (birth state of the Klu Klux Klan) I can’t say that I’m surprised that there are people in that state who feel this way. There is a saying that goes “History is written by the victors.” There is a reason why when taking US history in high school and college we’re taught stories such as the Boston Tea party, the American Revolution and the story behind the Star-Spangled Banner. These lessons are meant to paint America in a positive light, as a place that has always held the ideals of patriotism and what is right close to its heart. Those of us that know better know that this is not the case.

I know that this country was built on a foundation of lies, corruption, greed and sin. The men who founded this country are made to be patriots and forward-thinking in writing the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights. These were men who were once called traitors and turncoats and charged with treason by the British. Today they are celebrated as heroes for denouncing a tyrannical government and claiming their freedom. They essentially did what they felt was right. Approximately 180 years later some other men stood up to a similar government and were cut down by character assassination, espionage and murder. But you know facts like that never showed up in my history books and I’m pretty sure that was the case across the board.

You see the history of this country is already told through rose colored glasses. If these Tea partiers have their way slavery would never have happened. According to this new history Africans would have been brought here to enjoy and share the freedoms held by Americans. We would have been handsomely paid for our labor. Jim Crow never happened. Reconstruction never had to occur. 40 acres and a mule? Hogwash. Black people were given stock options and were integral in helping write the Constitution.

See how silly this sounds?

If some Tea Party members have their way then this is what our children will learn about their history. Since the “majority” is quickly becoming the new “minority” in this country new strategies are needed to pull votes from people that wouldn’t normally vote conservative. What better way to do this than have them believe that conservatives have always had their best interest at heart.

I see the end game.

Uh, and it ain’t no projects
Keepin it real is not an understood concept
Yea, complexion’s not a contest
Cause racism has no context
Hip hop ain’t got a section called conscious
Everybody rappin’ like crack never happened
Crips never occurred no Bloods to attack them
Matter of fact no hood to attack in
Somalia is a great place to relax in
Fred Astaire was the first to do a backspin
The Rat Pack was cool group of black men
That inspired five white guys called The Jacksons
Eminem fitted in but then again he inspired a black rapper tryin to mimic him
And that’s what really rose up out of Michigan, the sign of white rapper by the name of 50 Cent, ha!

Uh, and I know it’s just a fantasy
I cordially invite you to ask why can’t it be?
Now we can do nothing bout the past
But we can do something about the future that we have
We can make fast or we can make it last
Every woman Queenin’ and every man a Kingin’
When those color lines come we can’t see between
We just close our eyes ’til it’s all black every-THING!

All Black Everything is a song by Lupe Fiasco on his Lasers album.

Its ok to wonder, right?

“Jim Crow laws also soon appeared, starting with the railroads. The Saluda newspaper felt they were an urgent necessity. “Give the negro justice, but for decency’s sake protect delicately constituted white ladies from contamination by being thrown in company with an inferior race,” it said. “Keep the air of our palace cars … from being polluted by the odor africanus- an element inseparable from the negro’s presence.”

People find it surprising when I tell them I’ve never dated a white woman. And besides that one road trip, I’ve never seen a white woman naked; but we all know that if it doesn’t happen in the state you live in then it doesn’t count. When I break it down to them they start to get a clearer picture into how this came to be. Allow me to set the backdrop.

I grew up in a predominantly black inner city neighborhood. My high school was approximately 95% African-American. I attended a HBCU for my undergraduate as well as my graduate training so its safe to say that its not as if I’ve been exposed to even a bushel of Anglo-Saxon women. That being said getting on an elevator at work and watching a woman clutch her purse tighter, even though I have an ID badge that clearly says Dr. Tunde A___________, bothers me. I don’t have experience working with other races this closely.

Even if I were interested in White women my conscious wouldn’t allow me to pursue one. As I’ve mentioned before I’m a fan of history, all history but mainly African/African-American history so allow me to give you a history lesson.

The quote at the beginning of this post is taken from a county newspaper in South Carolina in the mid 1890s. The use of violence to end Reconstruction in the South and the eventual implementation of Jim Crow in its place was the result of two needs of Whites during that era.

1. The need for white men re-establish supremacy over what they considered an inferior race.
2. To protect the innocence and chastity of white women everywhere.

In regards to the second reason, white men viewed black men as sex crazed beasts that were incapable of controlling their sexual urges. Never mind the fact that the number of black men who raped white women during slavery (probably close to zero) paled in comparison to the number of white men who raped black women slaves; delicate white women had to be saved from black savages. Because you know God-forbid mixed children be born out of that union.

Imagine the fear of White fathers during the modern Civil Rights era that had to imagine their white daughters sitting in class next to black boys. I imagine that if public schools were integrated with only Black girls and not boys the opposition might not have been so great. There would have still been opposition. Embracing an ideal of racism and domination doesn’t readily allow one to distinguish between a subset (man or woman) of a group you feel superior to.

Knowing what I know about how black men were viewed, especially when it came to white woman I can take two courses of action when it comes to them. Choose to spit in the face of age-old fears and contempt from white men at the thought of black men with white women or realize that despite everything we’ve been through I still prefer Black women to all others. I’m going with the latter.

I want to discuss what happens to a subset of Black men when they are incarcerated. They end up exactly where society tells them they would arrive since they were young. They could easily accept their lives as a complete failure and relegate themselves to behave as animals that they are chained and caged. For a portion of Black men when faced with the harsh reality of being imprisoned they become enlightened. It would be hard to imagine that would happen considering that the behavior that landed them in prison is the type of behavior which lacks abstract and critical thinking skills.

I think the most famous case would be Stanley Tookie Williams, the founder of the Crips street gang. Williams was sentenced to the death penalty after being convicted of robbing and murdering four people. While on death row Williams wrote children books that were aimed at keeping children out of gangs. He was eventually nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. It doesn’t negate the fact that he committed heinous crimes but one can’t help but imagine what Williams could have been if someone stopped his path towards self-destruction. If someone cultured the capacity to learn and free their mind from mental and cultural slavery. There are many Tookie Williams in almost every prison across the country.

On the another note you have Eddie Ellis who spent 25 years in prison, during which he earned a bachelor’s degree from Marist College and a master’s degree from the New York Theological Seminary. Today he is president of the Community Justice Center in Harlem, which helps ex-offenders find jobs and housing. Imagine how many more people he could have helped if he didn’t spend 25 years behind bars.

Outside of obtaining degrees and improving themselves intellectually a lot of Black men who enter prison embrace Islam. I don’t know the individual reasons for inmates who choose to become Muslim but if I had to guess I would would go with the implementation of discipline, Black nationalism and forethought might be amongst the top reasons. I’m not Muslim but I do respect the discipline that it takes to follow that faith. There are many reasons why a lot of inmates choose to embrace Islam versus Christianity but I won’t go into those reasons today (saving that for a different post).

The circumstances in which these men end up in prison does not make them animals incapable of critical thought nor does it relegate them to men who are incapable of improving themselves. If only these men had found the encouragement and inclination to improve themselves before they seemingly threw their lives away perhaps the statistics of black men in prison wouldn’t be as distorted.

I caught a video on tumblr. It seemed particularly old. A general giving a motivational speech to his soldiers. It really touched me and I couldn’t stop thinking about a few quotes that I think can apply today. If anyone knows where the following excerpt came from please let me know in the comments.

I’m sorry but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business.

I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I shall like to help everyone if possible. Jew, Gentile, Black man, White. We all want to help one another; human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there’s room for everyone and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful but we have lost the way…

Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goosestepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood, for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of disparaging men, women and children.

Victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. For those who can hear me I say, “Do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people will return to the people and so long as men die, liberty will never perish.”

Soldiers don’t give yourself to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you, who regulate your lives. Tell you what to do, what to think, what to feel. Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men! Machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines. You are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don’t hate. Only the unloved hate; the unloved and unnatural. Soldiers, don’t fight for slavery, fight for liberty.

In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written “The kingdom of God is within man”, not one man nor a group of men but all men. In you, you the people have the power. The power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let us use that power. Let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world. A decent world that will give men a chance to work. That will give you a future and old age security. By the promise of these things brutes have risen to power but they lie, they do not fulfill that promise; they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world. To do away with national barriers. To do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness.

Soldiers in the name of democracy let us all unite.

Truth is the new hate speech.

“During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.” George Orwell

Yesterday I published a post entitled “Black Male Cool” where I discussed the meaning of cool in black culture and more specifically to black males. I usually publish my posts sometime between 11pm-midnight EST before I go to bed, post the link on twitte/facebook and then call it a night. The next day I may strategically post more links to the blog so I can potentially get as many people to read as possible. I also appreciate everyone who reads the blog and share. What I don’t appreciate is when people take my thoughts and attempt to pass them off as their own. Below is a screen capture of my post.

When I woke up this morning after taking extra time to warm up after my cold shower (my hot water wasn’t working) I checked my facebook page and I saw that I had been mentioned in a comment by my friend Veronica. I decided to log onto facebook and see what she was talking about. Below is the note in which she commented on and subsequently mentioned me.

Notice anything familiar? I had to read it a couple of times. In my mind I kept saying maybe he’ll mention me at the end and give me credit. No credit is given anywhere in the note. That’s what’s hot in the streets? Stealing entire posts, word for word. Before I got to upset I decided to check the comments since thats what brought me to this foolishness in the first place.

Now my name isn’t mentioned until the 3rd and 4th comment on the note by my friend. After he already took credit for the thoughts behind the “his” post (2nd comment). His reply when she suggested he should follow my blog: “I probably should…… I probably should write my own too just so folks know I’m not as simple as I may look” and also “I think I shared his link on my wall too and thanks lady….oh be good too. QQ” Now it may look like he linked me but after further investigation (I went to his main page) I saw this:

Status updates on facebook are listed in reverse chronological order which means he copied and pasted my blog post, took credit for it, got called out then went back and linked my post in a completely different status update. People have been telling me all day that you haven’t really made it as a blogger until you’ve been plagiarized. If that’s what making it as a blogger is then I’m content with just sharing my thoughts amongst those who actually enjoy reading it. This blogger life is not for me. I see you though Christopher Jacobs.

I think I may have to add copyright infringement warnings to my blog. I hate that it had to come to this.

Once upon a time black male “cool” was defined by the ways in which black men confronted the hardships of life without allowing their spirits to be ravaged. They took the pain of it and used it alchemically to turn the pain into gold. That burning process required high heat. Black male cool was defined by the ability to withstand the heat and remain centered. It was defined by black male willingness to confront reality, to face the truth, and bear it not by adopting a false pose of cool while feeding into fantasy; not by black male denial or by assuming a “poor me” victim identity. It was defined by individual black males daring to self-define rather than be defined by others.

The above paragraph is a quote from Bell Hooks’ We Real Cool. The last chapter of the book does an excellent job at wrapping up some of the issues with the black male psyche and what we (as a whole) refer to it as cool. If you’ve been reading this blog lately you might have noticed I’ve broached certain subjects about black masculinity, black america and things I feel black people need to do more of. This is because I’m really getting tired of the things I see on a day to day basis.

The idolization of drug culture, rappers, athletes have for too long been at the forefront of black male thought. Besides the drug culture there is nothing wrong with aspiring to be a rapper or an athlete but everyone can’t be one. The odds of making it to the NBA/NFL are very slim and the odds of making it as a successful rapper are even slimmer. The work ethic combined with skill it takes to make it in either field is nothing short of considerable. A lot of black youth (read: not all) are attracted to the allure of big money and don’t think about the work (or sometimes not) that it takes to get where they are.

What happened to admiring respectable careers? What happened to reaching a certain station in life by working hard? Everything can’t come easy. If it did then everyone would have it.

Dissecting hip-hop it seems that it has no transformative power, no ability to intervene on politics of domination and turn the real lives of black men around. It offers black males very little spiritual nourishment. Hip hop has a sense of false bravado. Its counterfeit. I listen to hip-hop but lately I’ve found myself shying away from a lot of it. Especially those artists with negative connotations. Maybe I’m just getting old. But something tells me being older doesn’t have anything to do with wanting people who have an influence in black culture to be more socially responsible.

I wish we could get back to defining cool by not how much money you have or what clothes you wear. Why isn’t cool exemplified by being a man of integrity? I wish cool was still characterized by the content of a man’s character. I wish cool was still represented by intelligence. Until we can get back to that I’ll be whatever the opposite of cool is.

2011 was a great year for me. I had way more highlights and breakthroughs than setbacks. I had good days and I had bad days. I thank God that 2011 was good to me and I’m praying 2012 I will receive just as many blessings if not more.

Last year I brought in New Years in Gatlinburg, TN in a cabin. I had an awesome weekend which included lots of drinks, hottub foolishness, movies, shopping, games, etc. I did get really sick. Hopefully this doesn’t happen again this New Years. Matter of fact I know it won’t happen because I won’t be drinking (as much).

I dated a couple of women in 2011. A lot fell by the wayside. That’s dating though. You find out what you like versus what you don’t like and I definitely found out what I don’t like. Either way I have a feeling 2012 will bring me more stability as far as dating is concerned now that I know what it is that I want.

After 7 years I finally defended my thesis in May and received my PhD in Biomedical Research with a concentration in Cancer Biology. I don’t think I’ve worked for anything that hard in my life. In 7 years I could have gotten 3 more degrees but now I know why the PhD is considered a terminal degree (no degree higher).

I kicked in it New Orleans with my PCs (Kurt and Ashley) for Mardi Gras and Essence. Good times were had by all. Daiquiris and Crown were flowing like water. Planking on Canal Street was done. Cookouts, cookouts and cookouts. Day parties, night parties. Crown for breakfast. Looking forward to this grill off we have coming up during Mardi Gras. I plan on taking the title.

I learned the true meaning of friendship this year. I was never really one to throw out the title friend candidly. Even with that my number of friends have dwindled and I’m actually happy with that. I don’t have time for people who in my life who don’t know the meaning of loyalty and have ulterior motives. I’m thankful for the true friends that I do have.

I volunteered a lot of my time this year. I participated in book drives, highway cleanups, canned food drives, I donated blood, I helped in hurricane relief. Its always a good feeling to give back.

I got my first real job out of school in a city people would love to live in. Nothing against Nashville but after 7 years there I was looking to move to a city that is more progressive and it doesn’t get any more progressive than New York. In a time of recession I’m thankful I was able to get a great job.

One of my best friends got married this year. I was so happy to be a part of his union to his wife. A lot of dudes don’t really talk about things like this even though they may feel like it but I genuinely love love.

I’ve met some really cool people in NYC in the few short months I’ve been here. I had an awesome birthday party. I finally was able to play in a couple basketball leagues (5 to be exact) and I have an awesome roommate. Looking at you @Ni_Ti. Being in NYC, I’m closer to DC which means I’m closer to my fam. I get to see my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews more often which is a blessing in itself.

All in all 2011 was awesome. I thank God again for being able to see another year. 2012, we in there.

My thoughts were interrupted by a swift kick to the back of my chair. I turned around and David was staring me right in the eyes. “When we get off the bus you’re gonna get fucked up.” I immediately turned around. My heart was beating a million times a minute. I don’t understand why David and his friends didn’t like me. The only thing I could determine was that they didn’t like me because I was different. The only African kid in class they didn’t like the fact that I excelled academically.

Now David and his friends, Brian and Ryan, told me at the bus stop that if I didn’t let them copy off my math test then they were going to beat me up. For some reason I couldn’t do it. I didn’t like David or the twins. They were always picking on me and calling me names like “African booty scratcher” and “Tarzan”. They would constantly talk about my name and they always hit me. So why should I do them a favor and let them copy off me? No doubt they failed their test, as was the norm. I heard the twins say that if they didn’t do well on this math test then their mom wasn’t going to buy them the new Jordans. “Good” I thought. I never had a pair of Jordans or brand name shoes for that matter and I had excellent grades. I couldn’t understand how they always had new clothes and shoes when they failed most of their classes.

The bell rung to let us out of 3^rd period and David rushed past me out in the hallway. As I walked out into the hallway I saw a fist flying towards me. David punched me square in the gut. I doubled over in pain trying my hardest to catch my breath. A crowd surrounded us yelling, “fight! fight! fight!” As I managed to quickly catch my breath my third period teacher came out the classroom and everyone dispersed leaving me standing there. “What is going on out here?” she said.

“Nothing Mrs. Strickman. The guys were just playing around.” I knew that if I snitched then my situation wouldn’t get any better. I would have to just hope that the punch to the gut would be enough to satisfy David.

I soon learned at lunch that David and his crew had no intentions of letting things go. My friend Nancy came and sat beside me in the lunchroom.

“Why didn’t you just let them copy your test?” she inquired

“Cuz they should have studied. Besides, they’re not even my friends.” I responded.

“But now they want to fight you. They’re telling everyone that they’re going to jump you when we get off the bus.” she told me.

“At this point, I don’t even care anymore.”

The rest of the day was a blur. I looked at the clock. 3:30pm

I drudged my way from class to the bus while the lump in my throat grew bigger and bigger by the minute. I don’t even remember the bus ride home. It seemed it took mere seconds for our bus to reach the bus stop.

I got off the bus and David was waiting for me.

“Why didn’t you let us copy your test?”

“Because I didn’t want to. You’re not my friend. You should have studied.”

Someone pushed me from behind into David and a right fist came across my eye. Blinded by pain I was momentarily stunned. Another blow came to the back of my head. That blow caused me to drop to my knees. I felt something warm on the back of my neck. As I touched the back of my neck I felt moisture and immediately I knew I had been cut. I was hit in the back of the head by a two by four.

“Stop it!” I heard voices screaming in the background

I saw Ryan holding the two by four and he cocked it back ready to swing. I tried to rise to my feet but I wasn’t quick enough. The piece of wood came crashing against my temple. Everything went black.

I don’t know how long I was unconscious but when I came to I was in an ambulance and there were paramedics over me. The looks in their eyes let me know that there was something terribly wrong. I lost consciousness again. I never woke up again.

Bullying is something that needs to be addressed. It happens too often and too many people turn the blind eye to it.

Never Forget. Derrion Albert.

www.dosomething.org

So cliché.

No matter how oversaturated the sentence may be it doesn’t negate the truth and totality behind those four words. Today I found out that a good friend of mine was called home to glory.

I’ve been lucky to never have someone close to me pass. My grandfather passed in 2002 and my grandmother is 2010 but honestly I wasn’t that close to them where it hit extremely close to home. I was more so worried about how I would console my mother. I’ve never been to a funeral. That’s nothing to brag about, its just a testament to how fortunate I am to still have most of my loved ones in my life.

Thirty-two years old is entirely too young for anyone to go. Not when you have two young daughters who will need their mother. Yesterday I started reading a short book entitled The Pursuit of Purpose by Dr. Joseph W. Walker, III and it got me thinking about what God’s purpose is for me and how I can align myself to do what God has called me to do.

When I first heard of my friend’s passing I can’t lie, I thought what God’s purpose was for her. I immediately thought that God’s purpose couldn’t have been this. Not to such a smart, beautiful, friendly, generous young woman. She didn’t deserve to go so soon.

Those were my immediate thoughts. It didn’t take me long to pull myself together and realize that its not up to me to question God’s plan or authority. He moves in ways that I can’t ever fathom. I just have faith that she is with Him and she’s smiling that million-dollar smile.

I’ll miss you Cryssy. I love you.

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.

2 Corinthians 1:3-5