America, Where Is The Love?

Back in April I treated myself to custom Lasik surgery (props to Dr. Bruce January, a Brother on the cutting edge of corrective eye procedures).  I now have 20/10 vision, which means I can spot a lace-front wig from 800 feet away unassisted…  Ladies beware :-p

Anyway, a few weeks ago, as I was heading out for some lunch time Chinese, I noticed something obstructing the middle lane of Houston’s well trafficked Westheimer Road.  With the 98 degree heat causing distant objects to ripple in sheer waves, I spotted what seemed to be roadkill a block away from my vehicle.  As the stoplight turned green and I proceeded to move closer to the mass of flesh, cars ahead of me drove over the animal making modest attempts to avoid it with their tires.  Once I got within 20 yards, I realized the downed victim was actually a 10 pound black bichon mix.

If you know anything about me, you know I have a soft spot in my heart for man’s best friend.  So my heart sank as I thought to myself, “poor pup.”  I switched lanes to avoid decimating the body of what I presumed to be another Houston speed driving casualty.  In my despair that the poor pooch was murdered by the typical maniac motorist native to this city, I glanced back at my rear view mirror and was shocked to see the little guy extend his paw vertically in a desperate plea for help. What are the odds that I would happen to look back at just the right moment to see the critter’s appeal to live?

Immediately I pulled into the parking lot of a storage facility on the right hand side of the road.  I raced into the middle of Westheimer going against oncoming traffic, trying to avoid the same fate the mutt faced.  Drivers blew their horns and I stared off a disgruntled 18 wheeler as I scooped the tiny dog from the sizzling pavement.  The Texas sun was scorching hot and the street’s black tar had absorbed more heat than fathomable.  There was no telling how long the little runt had suffered on the road while being cooked alive.  I carefully scooped him out of the street and ran into the adjacent leasing office of  a small apartment complex.  While he constantly gasped for air, I held him upright, pleading for assistance from the leasing agents.  The two young Hispanic women and I frantically made a bed out of an empty box and some bubble wrap for the injured canine.  All three of us began calling vets to see if we could get the little guy some urgent attention.  One of the young ladies recognized the elderly dog and called his owner, a tenant at the apartment complex, to no avail.  As we dialed vet after vet, we were greeted with the same ice cold response: “unless you’re going to claim financial responsibility we can’t help you,” click.  Finally, the dog’s presumed owner called back to report that he was on his way to pick up his wounded buddy.  Thank God.

I said my good-byes to the frail pooch, who looked to be in bad shape, and headed to a business appointment on an empty stomach (didn’t have time for lunch due to the dog incident).  I really wished I could have just dropped him at the local animal hospital, but the emergency vet bill would have hurt my pockets.  Besides, his owner was on the way to his rescue.  So, frazzled, I drove to my meeting.  Not more than 10 minutes later, one of the young leasing agents called to inform me that the little mutt passed away.  I was devastated.  I couldn’t function for the rest of the day without feeling guilty about the innocent woofer losing his life.

I get angry when I think about the reckless driver that hit the little guy; the jerk didn’t even stop to see if he/she killed another being.  It also angers me to think of all the other drivers that would have just as readily run the runt over again, assuming he was already dead.  Then I get angry at all of the snappy veterinary receptionists that dismissed my urgent pleas for assistance because the bichon mix had no financial backer.  This last gripe made the case for universal health care all the more relevant in my mind.  There are people in America that feel innocent human beings deserve the same treatment the mutt received in his most urgent time of need.  Frightening indeed.

Even more disturbing are the Big Oil politicians, anti-environmentalists, and capitalist cowards that see no need for a moratorium on offshore drilling.  After all, there’s only a few hundred million gallons of dirty crude filling up the gulf… and that stuff is only killing every living thing in which it comes into contact… and the gulf seafood industry is completely devastated… but who cares?  They’ll keep drilling until the entire gulf is as black as the tar on Westheimer Road.

Compassion is seen as a weakness in the United States.  In fact, if you watch Fox News long enough you’ll be brainwashed into believing compassion is “un-American.”  You care about the welfare of beings other than yourself? What the heck are you – a socialist?  You care about the civil rights of Hispanics?  You must be an illegal immigrant or some kind of a kumbaya hippie.  You don’t see the purpose of the war in Afghanistan?  There’s a trillion dollars of gold and lithium deposits over there for us to take you dummy!

In a culture completely desensitized to violence and morally devoid of basic human values, this is the conscience America breeds.  Nauseating to say the least.  All I can do is SMH and sing to Hov’s Blueprint masterpiece – Where is the Love?

Top 5 Dead or Alive

Ever since Pac and Big died, we’ve heard emcees constantly attempt to include themselves on the “Top 5 Dead or Alive” rapper list.  Hip Hop fans have compared their personal Top 5 lists with those of their peers, debating about the merits and flaws on each others’ bill.  While it’s definitely been fun to participate in the Great Hip Hop debate, I’ve found it more exciting to broaden the “Top 5 Dead or Alive” discussion to encompass history’s most revolutionary figures.

Before I go any further let me define what I mean by “revolutionary.”  To me, a revolutionary is someone who has effectively changed the course of human existence.  With that said, I’ve compiled a list of 5 people who have permanently altered the direction of civilization; these are the 5 people I most wish I could sit down with to have an engaged conversation.  So without further ado I present to you…. [drum roll please]…. my Top 5 Dead or Alive revolutionaries – Mitochondrial Eve, Imhotep, Jesus, Einstein, and Malcolm X.

Imagine for a second that you could ask each of these figures any burning question that comes to mind.  What would you ask?  Given the opportunity to discard your What Would Jesus Do bracelet, (in exchange for talking to the man in the flesh), would you keep it real?   Would you ask Him if partaking in His Father’s “herbal” relaxation remedies are really more morally corrupt than drinking the fermented grapes that were the preference of His homies?   Would you ask Malcolm if he still has beef with the Nation of Islam and the modern day Louis Farrakhan? Would you ask Einstein what he imagined was on the other side of a worm hole or question Imhotep on what motivated him to build the first pyramid?  Was there anything that stressed Mitochondrial Eve out?  So many questions could be asked…

Interviewing these folks would be so exciting because each of one them permanently changed the course of history as we know it.  For example, you, and every person you know, is a descendant of Mitochondrial Eve.  Holding the crown as everyone’s ancient African grandmother, we can all find traces of her mitochondrial DNA in our cells.  If I could travel back 170,000 years to meet this fine Ethiopian sister, I would be curious to know what she did to have such a strong influence on how we define human existence today.  Undoubtedly she was a head-turner, but there must have been something even more special about Eve that allowed her genetic stamp to be found in all present day people.  I have a hunch that she was more Michelle Obama than Nicki Minaj.

When it comes to Imhotep, the real question is what didn’t this brother revolutionize?  He was the world’s first noted architect, doctor, and astrologer.  I’m inclined to believe he was also the world’s first West Indian because [In Living Color "Hey Mon" voice] him had like 10 job: “chancellor of the king of lower Egypt”, the “first one under the king”, the “administrator of the great mansion”, the “hereditary Noble”, the “high priest of Heliopolis“, the “chief sculptor”, and finally the “chief carpenter”.  Imhotep is the definition of human ambition.

No need for me to go into detail about Jesus, He’s only the foundation for Christianity as we know it.  I would venture to say that Christianity has had ummm…. quite a significant impact on World events for the past 2010 years.  To say major disagreements between billions of people have occurred through the interpretations (and misinterpretations) of this man’s teachings would be a gross understatement.

As for Albert Einstein, how could he not be your hero?  This dude died 55 years ago and most of his theories still form the basis for significant scientific discoveries.  As a matter of fact, Einstein was so ahead of his time that physics is still trying to catch up to the things he postulated almost 100 years ago.  I don’t know about you, but quantum teleportation, shifting space time, and black holes are some ill concepts!  This dude left us clues about how to get off this tiny rock called Earth so we can visit the great wonders of the universe one day. Even more, when considering the non-scientific books he wrote about the irrationality of war and the detriments of capitalism, I could go on for days about the dopeness of Einstein.

While he was no scientist in the vein of Albert Einstein, Malcolm X found the formula for Black self confidence.  His eloquence, intelligence, and charisma elevated him to the platform of true dangerousNEGRO status.  This self educated brother scared the ish out of America’s white patriarchal society.  No one could defeat Malcolm X in a debate except Malcolm X; truly unprecedented.  Malcolm gave the Black community pride on a level that has yet to be duplicated.  He empowered us to fight the power, start our own businesses, and improve the moral fabric of our community.  I wonder how Malcolm would grade Barack’s presidency thus far…

So there you have my Top 5 Dead or Alive revolutionaries and my reasons for picking them.  Who do you have in your Top 5?

Why The N-Word, Saggy Pants, and Ignorant Rappers Won’t Die

If you’re a member of the Hip Hop Generation, three relentless fires have burned in your debate circle for the past two decades: the n-word, saggy pants, and ignorant ass rappers. For sure, you’ve been unable to escape the controversies surrounding these topics.  Hours have been spent in heated arguments defending or deriding the virtues of each; verbal fisticuffs have led to intellectual brawls and oral shellackings.  Chances are, if you’re reading this blog you’re sick and tired of having these discussions.  Despite your mental exhaustion over these matters, they seem to make for persistent conversation with no end game in sight.  In fact, I have come to the conclusion that these fires are only increasing in size, as the wrong tools to extinguish them are being employed.

Old heads and elitists  have gone to great lengths to stifle the burn they feel when nigga(er) is verbalized.  Recently I got into a social networking spat with CNN’s Roland Martin about the issue on Twitter.  Check the exchange (read from bottom to top):

Clearly Mr. Martin does not see the damage he’s causing by attacking the issue in this fashion.  Remember when the NAACP made a futile attempt to kill Massa’s favorite noun with their N-word funeral in 2007?  Their attempt to crucify the term and render it lifeless backfired, as it arose more powerful than ever with Hip Hop’s abhorrence of this stunt.  Indeed, Hip Hop culture read the headlines and scoffed “Nigga Please!”  Thus, the Baby Boomers’ public disdain for the word has only reinforced  its significance in America’s most fundamentally rebellious culture. Even more dangerous is the fact that making such a spectacle over how much pain remains at the root of the term empowers it in the eyes of true racists.  Anybody that wants to push a Black person’s crazy button is merely reminded that “nigger” remains the champion of getting under a Negro’s skin.

Sadly, frustrated zealots approach the pants sagging “issue” in the same exacerbating fashion as the n-word.  Let them see a Negroe’s underwear exposed and oh boy… watch out… some preaching is finna go down!  While I agree that showing your funky ass draws is not what’s up, I know that seniors condescendingly ordering the Hip Hop community to cease and desist only add gasoline to the blaze.

Yet folks just don’t get it.  While browsing the NY Times the other day I came across an article titled “NY Politician Takes Up Cause – Sagging Pants.” New York State Senator Eric Adams has decided to waste his time (and his constituents’ tax dollars) by creating anti-sag billboards.  [Ed Lover voice] Senator Adams, c’mon son… do you really think your efforts will do anything to combat the Hip Hop generation’s right to freedom of expression?  Do you think they’ll find your crafty billboards cool and refreshing?  Senator Adams… Senator Adams… GTFOH with that BS son! Everyone thank Senator Adams for another 4 years of stankin ass boxer observance.

On to the auto-coons.  You wanna know why hot ignorance is seething through your airwaves?   Remember when Hip Hop was in its Golden Age during the 90s?  Well at the peak of the genre’s most creative period, C. Delores Tucker, a band of Black preachers, and a host of politicians decided to pick a fight with the lyrics.  They staged large scale CD demolitions and other outrageous stunts.  The result: even more violent, misogynistic, and inflammatory rhymes were born to counteract the assault launched by the disillusioned elders.  Now, the snowball is so large that ignorance has trumped intelligence and activism in rap music sales.

Older generations HAVE to stop waging war with Hip Hop culture.  Like the crusade against terrorism, this is a fight that cannot be won by continuing to insult the Hip Hop resistance.  Every publicity stunt and disapproving lecture will only be countered by a more extreme offensive.  Instead of trying to battle youth in the trenches, preceding generations should use their wisdom to outsmart energetic, unruly insurgents in the Black community.  Rather than heaping hot coals on the heads of heretics, they should pour support into the peers of the offenders who have the power to infiltrate the culture from within.  dangerousNEGRO is one of many companies that come to mind in that regard… (and we’re taking on investors folks)…   So think before you join your next n-word eradication committee, anti-sag coalition, or rap boycott.  Don’t provoke the behavior, promote the savior.

Between Martin, Malcolm, and Modern

Oftentimes I find myself pondering who I would have faithfully followed during the turbulent Civil Rights Era.  Would I have been a loyal supporter of Dr. King’s nonviolent resistance?    Or would I have sided with brother Malcolm X in his militant approach to Black Nationalism?

I’ve never been much of a fighter or instigator, yet I cannot imagine sitting idle while racist policemen clubbed my dome, flushed me with fire hoses, and set angry German Shepherds on my tail.  In this regard, I may have clung to Malcolm’s intimidating messages that struck fear in the hearts of the ruling majority.  Still I’m conflicted when considering the religions of these Civil Rights heroes.  Being a lifelong Christian, would I have felt obligated to stand behind the good Reverend Doctor?  Or would I have converted to the mainstream, color-blind, Islam Malcolm discovered shortly before he was assassinated?  Looking at my Arabic solar plexus tattoo in the mirror, I cannot be certain.  Furthermore, as a college educated Black man, would I have been more inclined to listen to King, an Alpha Phi Alpha man like myself, or X who self educated himself in prison?  My inclinations say MLK when considering this aspect, although I have a great appreciation for unconventional learning.  Then, when I consider my New York upbringing, might I have adulated “Harlem’s Lion”, or would I have revered the preacher from the South where I’ve resided for the past decade?  These are just a slither of the questions that come to mind when I analyze the lives of Dr. King and Malcolm X.

In any regard, the only relevant question to ask today is how do we take what we learned from Malcolm and Martin, enhance their agendas, and make their messages applicable in modern society?  Well the first thing that comes to mind is political strength.  With the endorsement of Martin Luther King Jr., President John F. Kennedy was able to garner the votes he needed to gain a narrow victory in the 1960 election.  Malcolm X, while distrustful of the political “foxes and wolves” that comprise the Democratic and Republican parties, also referenced in his autobiography the power that 22 million voting African Americans possessed.  He felt that if Black Americans all voted and lobbied as a cohesive unit in the same vein as farmers, union workers, etc  then we would possess the strength to sway the political process in our favor.  One of my favorite Malcolm X quotes is “we, the Black masses, don’t want these leaders who seek our support coming to us representing a certain political party. They must come to us today as Black Leaders representing the welfare of Black people.”

Us Negroes did a great job of turning out to vote for Barack Obama in November of 2008… No secret there.  But imagine if we formed a coalition of voters that specifically lobbied for issues pertaining to the Black agenda; we would truly be able to sway the political pendulum in our favor.  We outnumber the tobacco enthusiasts, the gun rights fanatics, the healthcare conspirators. Our combined spending power (projected to top 1.1 Trillion Dollars by 2012) also greatly surpasses those of all special interest groups.  There is no reason that Black people should not have the most respected and influential voting block in American politics.  We must come together, identify the top priority issues we would like to see addressed in our community, and fight like hell for the Federal Government to bend to our demands.  The Black Lobby – that is how we can make Martin and Malcolm’s work relevant in the modern era.

Haiti and Apocalyptic Politics

Yesterday I prayed feverishly for my friends, as they sought confirmation that their family members survived the massive 7.0 earthquake that leveled Haiti.  My only frame of reference for their hearts’ panic was the day the Twin Towers fell; a day in which my mother watched them crumble out of her 30th Floor window in Midtown, while frantically asking me what to expect next over the phone.  I’ll never forget sitting in my Vanderbilt dorm room, watching that declaration of war, and not knowing whether my mother would make it home to the Bronx.  Truly an unsettling experience.  So my heart goes out to those still waiting to hear from their kin, disconnected by fallen phone towers and cataclysmic chaos.

Watching the current rally calls and pledges of aid to Haiti as a result of this unfathomable natural disaster, I can’t help but to feel proud that citizens across the world feel compassion for our wounded brothers and sisters.  This makes me smile, only not too bright.

Truthfully, I feel a great sense of disappointment in the fact that it has taken this large scale catastrophe to force the United States and others to donate millions in aid and support to the people of Haiti.  Had we cared about Haiti’s humanitarian disaster that predated January 12th’s earthquake, hundreds of thousands of lives may have been spared.  As the Western Hemisphere’s poorest country lingered in our backyard, we turned a cold shoulder to the 3rd World penury that stared us  in the face just 90 minutes away from Miami.  Before the Richter scale even tipped yesterday, Haiti had been operating as a post-apocalyptic society for well over 5 centuries.  Our fellow Negroes have lived in abject poverty with crumbling physical and political infrastructure ever since I can remember.  Yet no one (outside of a few philanthropic groups) lifted a finger to assist the Haitians with getting on their feet.  Why has there not been around the clock news coverage of the despair in Haiti until now?

Somehow I believe there would have been a different story in Haiti if there was an abundance of Texas Tea found in and around the country.  But that’s neither here nor there when considering that Black America has never been substantially active in supporting our people across the Caribbean Sea.  We’ve flown over the country to party it up in the Virgin Islands and Trinidad & Tobago, yet we’ve never rallied to contribute to the financial uplift of our brethren in Haiti.  (I must note that many of us have visited Haiti’s neighbor Jamaica, but have still however ignored the true plight of  our people there as well).

As the World mobilizes to assist Haiti, it is my sincere hope that we learn to be proactive in averting crises of this scale.  If Katrina destroying New Orleans, the Tsunami destroying southern coastal Asia, and this earthquake leveling Haiti teaches us anything, it is to NOT neglect the poor until natural disasters strike.  We must not take the pompous attitude of imbeciles like Pat Robertson when considering the misfortunes of our fellow human beings.  So let’s go forth and assist Haiti any way we can TODAY, and let’s not forget to continue pouring out love and assistance constantly across the globe to make Earth a better place throughout the year, inch by inch.  Ready? Break.

Finding Progression in Assimilation Nation

Growing up in the United States, it is impossible to escape the implicit and explicit tenets of White Supremacy that embed themselves in the subconscious of every American. While the engine of this domineering machine is not as robust as it was in its heyday of slavery, Reconstruction, and Jim Crow, it now drives on autopilot through the daily thoughts and interactions of all citizens. Many Black people subtly conform to White Supremacist doctrines, and even frown upon those Negroes that make the conscious decision not to support its continuation. Though well-intentioned, these folks confuse Black progression with assimilation into “mainstream” society; as a race we need to understand the difference in order to advance.

It breaks my heart when I hear educated Sisters and Brothers argue for the eradication of certain cultural practices simply because they feel it makes the Black race look bad to other races (more specifically White folks). In a constant effort to impress our Caucasian counterparts, the Black bourgeois have named any action that could be perceived as inferior to traditional White way of life, cancerous to Black society. Black people who think with this type of mind have succumbed to White Supremacy, as it is painfully apparent that they’ve adopted a “What would White man do?” mentality.  For instance, the main criticism I heard when I stood up to support Brother Tyler Perry’s work was that it portrays an image, we as Black people, should suppress and hide from White people.  Eh you know, God forbid some Anglos come across a Tyler Perry movie and shake their heads in disapproval or perhaps laugh at Madea.  Us Negroes need to impress these White folks with dry wit and conventional humor if we ever plan to be on their level some day, right?  Riiight.

It is impossible to progress beyond White Supremacy if we employ it’s very tactics to police our own race.  Uproar from supposed members of the Black intelligentsia upon the theatrical release of Precious was asinine.  There were Negroes concerned that telling the unfortunate story of an obese Black woman would give “others” the image that all African Americans fit the overweight, welfare stereotype many ignorant citizens cite to belittle Black achievement.  Look people… you know damn well there are those among us who battle obesity and several other socio-economic constraints of perpetual poverty.  Trying to sweep our fellow people under the rug to make our house look all tidy when “others” visit will not eliminate the problems we face as a race.

Progression in Black America will only occur when we begin to impress ourselves and push our brethren to be more powerful, prudent, and prideful.  The question should not be “how does this look to White people,” but instead “how does this look to our people?”  Only when Black art or media systematically fails to empower, enlighten, and entertain its own constituents has a disservice been performed.  So Brothers and Sisters, I urge you to consider the subconscious effects that thousands of years of White Supremacy have implanted in your psyche before you revere or reject ethnic communications.  Do it for Hip Hop.  Do it for Your People.  Do it for YOU.  Peace!

Slamming Sammy Sellout Teaches Us A Lesson

After I saw the recent photos of MLB legend Sammy Sosa sporting his new anti-tan, I declined to rush to conclusions.  I just knew it was a crappy photoshop hoax, you know, some kind of an internet prank.  As a couple more days passed and Sammy admitted he was indeed the pasty creature in the pictures, I remained in denial.  They were obviously remnants of Sosa’s Halloween evening dressed as Count Chocula I rationed.  Then I turned my Dell Plasma to Univision, a channel I frequent to ogle the amazingly hot female reporters English speaking American channels could never get away with exploiting brush up on my Spanish.  To my utter disbelief I watched a grown up Eddie Munster, purported to be the Dominican home run king, give an interview bragging about his new skin “rejuvenation” cream.  Left with no other conclusion besides “this Negro done lost his natural Black mind,” I proceeded to torch my Sosa Topps rookie card.

As the card disintegrated under the flame, I reflected on what could make my formerly Jheri curled brethren cave in to white supremacist ideology.  Was Sammy dealing with post-traumatic stress stemming from Michael Jackson’s death?  Was he attempting to revive the spirit of MJ through self replication of his vitiligo?  Maybe his wife’s light characteristics just started to rub off on him; you know, the longer people stay married the more they start to look the same (just look at Billary Clinton).  Nah, for the second time in his life Sammy Sosa simply sold out to the Cream.  He let everyone down when it was revealed that he cheated by consuming those magical home-run enhancers, and now he has destroyed any confidence that his remaining fans had in his integrity by whitewashing his pigmentation.

The perpetual optimist, I am ever so grateful to Sammy Sosa Sellout for giving me a platform to discuss the overarching problems that are indicative of his predicament.  First, as a man of mixed Negro and Latino heritage I must address the problem of race misidentifcation in the Black and Hispanic community.  I can recall days where I kicked it with my Puerto Rican and Dominican homies and comments about “morenos” were hurled around.  Most of the time their skin was as dark, if not darker than mine, yet there was a clear distinction made between Blacks that spoke English and Blacks that spoke Spanish.  It was clear to me that in their minds the Spanish language created a physiological distinction between them and English speaking Black people.  It mattered not that they congenitally inherited just as much African blood as the next Negro; Spanish meant you were phenotypically different from English speaking Blacks.

This division, based predominately on language differences, has always disturbed me.  Growing up with my Dad’s side being African-American and my Mom’s side being dark, Spanglish-speaking, Panamanians, I never considered myself anything other than Black.  I hate when I have to fill out a form and I am forced to make a decision between shading in the “Black” bubble or the “Hispanic” bubble.   It’s as if I’m being told it’s impossible to be both; or better yet, Blacks who natively speak Spanish are Hispanic, while Blacks who speak English, French, German, or any other language are a different race altogether.  That’s absurd… and this is why Sammy’s overt attempt to make a clear distinction between himself as a Black man and himself as a Latin man is a wake up call – Blacktinos we must unite!

As Sammy Sosa has suddenly burst onto the scene as the real life Clayton Bigsby, I must also address the issue of self -hatred in the Black community.  Females always ask me what type of women I find attractive.  When I simply respond “sexy women” they tend not to believe me.  After all, every guy has a certain “type” of women they explain.  9 times out of 10 they’re referring to skin color and body type.  “Do you date dark skinned girls, or light skinned girls only?” they ask.  Once again I assure them that I date sexy women. Period.

Years of being a sought after Black man (don’t hate!) has led me to understand why Sisters feel the need to ask this question.  I recall conversations at Vanderbilt University with my boys.  Sitting around talking ish about chicks, I can vividly remember a couple of buddies confessing that they exclusively devote their attention to light-skinned females.  Strangely, these were some of the darkest brothers I ever met.  I could never grasp how they couldn’t find women of their own skin color attractive.  Not only were they Black-than-a-mofo, their mothers were dark as well.  “Do they despise their mothers?” I pondered.  Better yet, “do they despise themselves?”  Clearly, white supremacy has permeated the minds of Black men to the point where  many do not find mates of their own skin color to be worthy companions.  In their eyes light is right.

Unfortunately, many Black women are guilty of the same sin.  I realized this as I watched Precious (Monique deserves an Oscar BTW) last weekend.  There’s a scene where the lead character looks into the mirror and sees a thin, blond-haired, White woman in the reflection, instead of a heavy-set Black woman.  Also, the main character frequently fantasizes about her desire to find a light-skinned man with “good hair” to settle with.  It is due to this mentality that situations like Sammy Sosa’s are more common than you might think.  Skin bleaching products are a big hit in the Caribbean right now.  Don’t believe me, check this out:

At the end of the day I am thankful for Sammy selling out so publicly.  The conversations this fool has sparked will hopefully bring attention to the issues of Black/Hispanic race identity, self-hate, and the global skin bleaching epidemic.  Whether you agree with my analysis of this situation or not, I hope you will heed the moral of this story: be comfortable with the skin you’re in.

Tyler Perry: Cunning or Cooning?

Nobody in Hollywood can hold a candle to Tyler Perry’s meteoric rise to stardom in the last decade.  From niche market gospel plays to Black blockbuster bravado, Perry is the American Dream realized -- a rags to riches phenomenon.  Despite Tyler Perry’s cinematic and syndicated success, anchored in applying Christian family values to modern day strife, there are those who choose to label the brother a sell-out.  In defense of America’s first Black movie mogul, these haters are nothing more than ornery crabs in a barrel.

Critics of Tyler Perry’s work tend to cite his caricature of Madea, a fiesty, pistol packing granny, as the fundamental flaw in his representation of the Black race.  They feel that if it weren’t for Perry cross dressing and posing as the boisterous, belligerent, “buffoon” we love to laugh at, he would be irrelevant.  Most recently, Spike Lee, a brother I admire, threw a pity party and chose to throw Tyler Perry under the bus.  Lee, not understanding why many of his movies have flopped by box office standards, inappropriately lashed out against Perry for stealing his shine.  Peep the clip here:

Sorry Spike, but that was a hater move homie.  Fundamentally you are complaining that the audience which appreciates your intellectually stimulating, artistic gems, is quantitatively limited, therefore relegating your films to irrelevance and elevating Brother Perry’s films to prominence.  Nothing could be farther from the truth Spike.  Yes, it is difficult to gain the attention span of a generation breast fed ignorance by BET, commercialized Hip Hop, and mentally contaminated media… Trust me, if anyone knows this it’s me.  But Spike, Tyler Perry supplies solutions to these problems, not provocations.

While I cannot say that I have thoroughly enjoyed every TP film, musical, or television episode I have watched, (some have been a little corny), I will admit that I see the light in all the endeavors Tyler Perry produces.  Never have I witnessed Perry using his theatrical vehicle to encourage ignorance, promote Black destruction, or attract mockery.  Perhaps it is because I, like many other Black Americans, grew up with someone strikingly familiar to Perry’s Madea.  Inside my brain I shriek when critics label this character too “over the top.”  If you think Madea is over the top, I challenge you to come to Harlem with me and meet my great-aunt A.P.  Step to her wrong and A.P. will curse you out worse than NWA in ‘91… piss her off and I hope you wore a teflon diaper cause she’ll bust a cap in your @ss for sure!  So for the critics that claim characters like Madea are too unrealistic, over the top, and don’t really exist in the Black community, I advise you to get off your bougie high horse and politic with your folk in the hood.

Anyone who cannot see the brilliance that Tyler Perry exudes is pointing a misguided finger.  If you just can’t resist pointing out the coons that are truly responsible for the dumbing down of Black youth, let me help you out -- PLIES.  Yes, this 5 foot, gold-mouthed, midget single handedly destroys more Black brain cells than malt liquor, pork fried rice, and slavery combined.  Consciously concealing the fact that he attended college, Plies tries his best to be the innovator of ignorance.  Instead of promoting the proper grammar and sentence structure he accidentally reverts to in radio interviews and chance meetings, Plies sells albums to your kids telling them to be his “bust it babies” and assuring them that he is “real.”  Jamie Foxx recently called this so called “goon” out, mentioning how he cowered like a bust it baby fresh out of Newports when some real gangsters showed up to his video shoot.

Anyway, back to the debate on Tyler Perry.  Before you cast judgment on this brother I challenge you to watch Diary of a Mad Black Woman (no Bruno).  I also challenge you to investigate his opening of the first fully independent Black production studio, a studio that puts great Black talent to work amidst a Hollywood that overwhelmingly shuts us out.  If you’re still not satisfied after that then kick rocks… Tyler Perry is good for Black America.

What The Murder of Derrion Albert Says About America

You’ve seen it by now.  The whole world has seen the carnage that ensued amidst the brawl that resulted in Derrion Albert losing his life.  Shock, astonishment, and tearful resentment filled your psyche as you watched Black youth try their best to destroy each other on a Chicago street corner.  Some of you implicate the parents, while others blame the lack of police intervention.  Many of you disgustedly threw your arms in the air and simply muttered “ni**az” out of frustration.  Regardless of the reaction, few people can point to the true root of the Hip Hop Generation’s destructive mentality, and even fewer have a solution to resolve the issue at hand.  Grounded in both street knowledge and formal education, I will tackle both conflicts head on.

Coincidentally, I had just finished re-reading Cornel West’s poignant best seller Race Matters when I was alerted to Brother Albert’s untimely demise.  West, who I’ve had the privilege to meet on 2 separate occasions, aptly describes the dark mentality that has infected our youth as Black nihilism.  According to Dr. West:

The proper starting point for the crucial debate about the prospects for black America is an examination of the nihilism that increasingly pervades black communities. Nihilism is to be understood here not as a philosophic doctrine that there are no rational grounds for legitimate standards or authority; it is, far more, the lived experience of coping with a life of horrifying meaninglessness, hopelessness, and (most important) lovelessness. The frightening result is a numbing detachment from others and a self-destructive disposition toward the world. Life without meaning, hope, and love breeds a coldhearted, mean-spirited outlook that destroys both the individual and others.

Clearly Black nihilism, as defined by Cornel West is what you witnessed in the footage capturing Derrion Albert’s murder.  No other concept can better explain an honor roll student being violently beaten to death by two Black rival gangs.

So now that the true issue has been identified, we must not only address how we arrived at this destination, but more importantly how we progress beyond this roadblock.  Let’s start with America overall.  We live in a society completely enamored with violence.  Boxing is the sport of yesteryear… we need the blood and gore of Ultimate Fighting to keep us entertained.  Furthermore, nobody loves guns as much as we do.  Estimates put the number of guns in this country at 250 million.  In fact, instead of our law making officials searching for a solution to combat the murder rate in the city where Derrion Albert met his demise, the Supreme Court was busy hearing a 2nd Amendment case arguing that citizens of Chicago need easier access to guns!  On the heels of people bringing machine guns to Obama rallies and the Virginia Tech massacre still lingering in our subconscious, there is still a contingent of people that believe we don’t have enough guns in this country.  What kind of message does that send to our children and subsequent generations of Americans?  We are perpetuating a cycle of violent behavior.

Narrowing the scope of the issues that led to Derrion’s death, I would be remiss not to mention the lack of positive Black role models, leaders, mentors, and parents that exist in the Black community.  Who do you think the thugs captured on video cite as their major influences in life?  I can assure you it’s not Cornell West.  It’s obviously not their hometown hero Barack either.  The choices can only be A) Older thugs, B) No one at all, or C) Jackasses like THIS that tell them “f**k school, come and [gang]bang with us.”

Watching the Derrion Albert beating, I could not help but to recall my public school days in the Bronx where I had to hide my flawless report card from the menacing degenerates that employed the “f**k school” mentality.  Being a straight A scholar was considered being a nerd, a no-no, an enemy to Black street life.  Essentially, I would have been the target of unwarranted beatdowns had anyone discovered my true love of intellectualism.  This is the mentality that must shift if there is to be any hope for the future of Black America.  We have to teach Black youth that Smart Is The New Gangsta.  The sooner Black people embrace this concept, the sooner we will see a turn for the best in our community.  To get there we will need strong mentorship programs, Black male retreats, and more positive images of Blacks in the media.  Tragedies like Derrion Albert’s death can be avoided if we turn the anger and despair we felt from watching his broadcasted murder into action.  Go out and find a mentee today.  Schedule some time to hang out with your little bad a** cousins, nieces, and nephews.  Stop supporting entertainment that condones Black on Black violence as a way of life.  As we pray that Brother Derrion Albert rests in peace, do not allow his senseless murder to sow the seeds of apathy in your life.

Constructing The Blueprint for Black Male Success

Prior to September 12th 2009, had someone  told me the blueprint for Black male success would arise from the state of Iowa I would have labeled them mentally deficient.  Invited to share my expertise on the topic “The New Grinding: Expanding Your Consciousness as Your Life’s Work,” I was nonetheless excited to impart the merits of entrepreneurship to a group that seldom receives this message.  It mattered not that this Fall retreat, titled “What’s Stopping Us Now?”, was being hosted for an assemblage of less than 50 students.  I was eager to participate in The Hubbard Group’s revolutionary approach to fostering a sense of Black collegiate community.

Before I delve into the specifics of the symposium, I find it fitting to give a little background info on how I came to participate.  Exactly ten years ago, I had the privilege of dwelling in The Taft School’s boisterous upper classmen dormitory a few doors down from Michael and Lena Hill.  The newlyweds arrived at the posh boarding school just in time for my senior and most formative year of high school.  Having determined that I would go on to become a virologist later in life, I caught  bi-weekly rides to Yale’s AIDS Institute with Mrs. Hill, who was completing her PhD there.  During those 45 minute drives, I enjoyed our politically engaged discussions just as much as I cherished the frequent hip hop convos I had with her husband.  At the conclusion of every discourse with the Hill’s, I couldn’t help but to feel the urge to read more books to keep up with the intellectual prowess of  this brilliant couple.  A full decade later, arrogantly convinced that I fit the criteria for being considered one of the greatest minds of the 21st Century, I jumped at the opportunity to join Dr. Michael Hill in his quest to foster a sense of Black collegiate community at The University of Iowa.  While I set out to impress my mentor by providing valuable incite to an audience of Black male undergraduates, I ended up learning that A)  the framework for Black male success hinges upon old and young minds converging to address issues that linger despite generational differences and B) I still need a pocket dictionary to keep up with the mental horsepower of the Doctors Hill

I felt it necessary to divulge my prior relationship to the Hill’s because they represent the first element in the blueprint for Black male success -- role models.  Not only has observing them made me want to seek enlightenment, improve my vocabulary, and  become more articulate, they have shown me the beauty of equally yoked Black love.  As Black males become more endangered, and Black families are more scarcely found in America,  it is vital that our generation has people like the Hill’s to emulate.

The Fall Retreat for Black Men, hosted by The Hubbard Group, boasted a room full of Black male role models.  From University of Iowa graduate students, alumni, and professors, to Super Bowl winning football coach Carl Jackson, there were several figures from which the undergraduate attendees could glean advice.  Three panel discussions were held.  The first being  “Are we There Yet?  The Black Male and the Search for Collegiate Community,” the aforementioned “The New Grinding: Expanding Your Consciousness as Your Life’s Work,” and finally “What’s With a Mentor?  The Value of Help in a Foreign Land.”  The 6 hour retreat was opened with a powerful speech from Michael Hill and closed with an interactive discussion about unlocking the clutch of White supremacy by Eddie Moore Jr., PhD.

In order to protect the Black race’s most vulnerable component, the Black male, retreats like  The Hubbard Group’s must frequently occur in communities across the United States.  According to the Schott Foundation for Public Education, only 41% of Black men graduate from high school in this country.  Furthermore, National Student Clearinghouse recently published that just 22% of Black males who began at a 4 year college graduated within 6 years.  There are countless other startling statistics I could reference showing the fragile state of Black male vitality in today’s society.   Thus, the sustainability of Black America hinges on isolating the imperiled Black male and making him the specific target of encouragement and mentoring.  This is the blueprint for Black male success.  Please watch and spread the video below: