Celebrities and Racism

While we're getting set up, here's something to chew on.



I was all set to do a piece on celebrities and racism. If you are near my age, I bet I know what came to your mind first: Elvis Presley and John Wayne. That was to be my topic, and I did extensive research to come up with some insight and perspective. To my surprise, after spending countless hours of searches, I ended up with Kanye West! I will admit that my disappointment with Hip Hop and Rap has led me to put them in the back of my mind. Unfortunately, in doing so, I have missed out on some very important issues. This piece focuses on the words said by Kanye West in an interview in Essence magazine, back in 2006. Since it was that long ago, I have included this article under "How Soon We Forget".

In the event that, like yours truly, you missed the hoopla of the Essence article, Kanye West was reported as saying "If it wasn't for race mixing, there'd be no video girls." He went on to say "Me and most of my friends like mutts a lot . . .Yeah, in the 'hood they call em mutts." I did not read the article, but every search came up with the exact same words, so I guess that's as close as I will get to actually quoting him. I was disgusted when I heard the news of Michael "Kramer" Richards' comments, and I was ghastly appalled at the racist remarks made by Imus. However, this takes the cake. I have lived in "the 'hood" way longer than Kanye West, and in all of my 55 years, I have never called any woman a "mutt".

The first problem is comparing our women to dogs. It is even further humiliating when I can find no news article or web page that prints an apology from Kanye West. Heaven knows, I tried to find something that said he was worthy of at least some type of forgiveness, but I have found not a shred of evidence that he has made an apology. Perhaps he meant what he said and that it was not some off-the-wall remark - it came from deep inside. He apparently hates his own likeness. Whether one is of mixed-origin or from two parents of the same ethnic origin, one should never be called a dog.

The second problem comes in his claim that "If it wasn't for race mixing, there would be no video girls", which further extends his self-hatred. Of all the women that apply to be on music videos, of all the diverseness in style, complexion, and shapes, there is no one worthy of becoming a video girl other than those of mixed- origin? I have seen some of the women who did not make it into the music video world, and I must tell you that any given one makes my heart skip more than a beat. For that matter, those who were turned away at the door without so much as a "howdy do" are pedestal material.

The third problem is not with Kanye West, but with the young people who buy the cd's, the products, and attend the concerts of such vile people as Kanye West. They have the power to boycott, they have the power to say "Enough". I don't understand how they can listen to the horrendous lyrics that degrade our Black women, and feel that there is no problem, or that they have no obligation to take a stand. I suppose that if slurs don't come from Caucasians, it does not injure their hearts and souls.

I am not one who would purchase his CD's, so my boycott of his music does very little. However, my opinion from this day forth is that Kanye West is deeply rooted with a hatred of his own kind, and, regardless of his musical aptitude, he should not be looked upon as someone who should be esteemed in any way.

His remarks were printed back in the December, 2006 issue of Essence, which makes this news 'old hat'. And that being the case, this is just a reminder that we should not fall victim to "How Soon We Forget".

This is blackstarr saying "Vive la Renaissance". Peace.

copyright © 5.29.2007 blackstarr blackstarr52@gmail.com


racism, video girls, mutts, mixed race, hip hop, Essence, rap, Kanye West

suspicion ~ blue phoenix

an ugly
ever-present black cloud
smothers & crushes her
like an angry crowd
dulls her eyes
slays her song
fills her with shame
though she’s done no wrong
once more pain
invades her chest
as sorrowful thoughts
disturb her rest
around her dance the demons
of doubt & fear
& once again
the black dog draws near



copyright © 2008 KPMCL

self expression - C C Gill

i told my beloved i did not get silence.
i needed to
hear about
what is on
his mind.
He said
that was not his way.
I would ask him if he thought me pretty.
He said you already know so i do not need to tell you.
On another day
i had allowed myself to say
my soul, my heart,
had to cling to
some words
for this is what
binds me to him.
Like, did he ever miss me?
Or was he dying to kiss me,
still he nonverbally dissed me
and did not try
to fill to the empty places.
those pockets his spoken
thoughts could touch.
The last time i saw him
we fell upon the nest,
the bed,
and he touched me, and it
was that moment,
That moment
i held my voice,
my expression of choice
all to myself.
When he moves me,
i am most always compelled
from a deep private well
to scream unchecked,
uncontrolled,
and completely lost
in my abandon.
The last time
it was my orgasm, all mine,
i wouldn't share.
It was mine.
It was my own pleasure,
my own spasm
of one
thought,
time, and
place.
Then, from no where
He took
my self expression,
calling me,
calling my name,
and i didn't call
him at all, not once.
And his words
echoed around us
where mine
used to be.
When he left me for sleep,
That deep, rich sleep passion leaves you in,
i arose and gathered myself.
i left my pain
in his open hand
i left his door key
in his open hand.
I took my Zane Sex Chronicles,
and i reclaimed my voice
and left him forever.

Copyright © April 2008 by C C Gill. All rights reserved.

cee_duncan@hotmail.com

Love, poetry, passion, expression, beloved

What, exactly, does it mean?

It never ceases to amaze me that many people who neither speak, read, nor understand Japanese go to great lengths to wear clothing inscribed with Japanese symbols. For all they know, the symbols could translate to “I am so stupid”, or, of course, something much worse. Well, today, I come before you as Mr. Hypocrite. Fortunately, for me, music is universal.

For the longest time, I have been enamored with a Latino group that goes by the name of “La Factoria”. Their music mesmerizes me to no end. It makes me want to get out of my seat and shake a tail feather (no – you don’t want to see that). The music is almost otherworldly in its ability to make one sing along, even though he or she has no clue as to what is being sung. Yes – I blast their music without knowing whether they are calling me out of my name or simply romancing me. The words are in Spanish and I do not speak, read, or understand a lick of Spanish. Meet Mr. Hypocrite.

I first encountered the group while skimming the ‘net looking for music videos that I hadn't seen. The first video that caught my eye was for the song “Perdoname”, featuring a singer by the name of “Eddie Lover”. I wrote “caught my eye”. It would be closer to the truth to say that it dragged me head first into its lair of beauty and sensuality. Being one who just loves the ladies, there was no way that I could just watch, shrug my shoulders and move along. Once I finally got past the sensuality, the music began to grow on me much like the moss that gathers on a non-rolling stone.

Although I had not grown tired of “Perdoname”, even after about a week of playing it nearly nonstop, I was finally ready to see if the group had any other songs that would hold my attention. There were quite a few songs from which to choose, but, two of the songs disrobed themselves and beckoned me to become their love slave - and I was all too willing to oblige. The siren-like songs that captivated me are “La Pagaras”, and “Como Me Duele”. I now have some idea as to how the ancient sailors managed to get themselves pulled into the rocky shores by those sweet sirens of the Grecian Islands.

I have three songs in my collection by La Factoria, and have not even considered checking out the other songs that the group has to offer. I am still too fascinated by the first three. I could very well solve my dilemma of being Mr. Hypocrite by looking up the translations to the songs that I currently enjoy without meaning. However, I intend to wallow in my ignorance for just a bit longer. I’m afraid that I may not like the words that I find with the English translation. I’m afraid that the attraction and captivation will vanish. Fortunately, for me, music is universal.

This is blackstarr saying "Vive la Renaissance". Peace.

The Music of La Factoria

Pernoname (the video)

copyright © 2008 blackstarr blackstarr52@gmail.com

music, La Factoria, blackstarr, La Pagaras, Como Me Duele, Perdoname

The Harlem Renaissance: Part 1 of 5

When most people hear the term “Harlem Renaissance”, Black writers and entertainers come to mind. That’s not such a far-fetched idea. Ironically, one of the most influential players of the Harlem Renaissance, and the one who virtually set it in motion was a Caucasian.

Carl Van Vechten (1880-1964), was born in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. His family was quite prosperous, and politically speaking, they were rather liberal. He left home at the age of 19 to attend the University of Chicago. Upon graduation, he was not excited about returning home. He opted, instead, in 1903, to go to work at the Chicago American, which was a part of the Hearst chain. After being fired for a gossip column that he wrote, he left for New York City in 1906. He made various trips abroad, was wed twice, and finally settled down in New York City. While there, he went to work for the publishing company Alfred A. Knopf. It was then that he began his “crusade” to uplift and advance the goals of African-Americans. This is where his real story all begins.

Van Vechten is known more for his photography than anything else, but after meeting such prominent writers as Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, James Weldon Johnson, and Countee Cullen, it was his intervention and coaxing that Langston Hughes’ “Weary Blues” became published by Alfred A. Knopf. Harlem became Van Vechten’s playground. He attended parties in Harlem as a regular pastime, rubbing elbows with the likes of Hughes, Cullen, Hurston, and many others. His fifth novel “Nigger Heaven” (a term used for the segregated section of movie houses where Negroes were seated) was published in 1926. By today’s standards, this novel is more than shocking. Naturally, it caused quite a stir when it was published. Although it was well-received, one of the few people who lauded the book was James Weldon Johnson. The book was a virtual peek into the lives of African-Americans encamped in Harlem. Many intimated that the book was merely an attempt at educating Van Vechten’s white readers about what goes on with the Negroes. In a review for “Opportunity” magazine, James Weldon Johnson wrote that Van Vechten’s writing “pays colored people the rare tribute of writing about them as people and not puppets”. By contrast, in “The Crisis”, W.E.B. Du Bois called it “neither truthful nor artistic”.

By 1932, Carl Van Vechten had begun to dedicate his life to photography. He photographed anyone who would sit still long enough. His portraits included all of the celebrities of the era, as well as the up and coming stars such as Harry Belafonte, Alvin Ailey, and Lena Horne. After giving up his writing career, and embracing his photography, he spent his final years in the role of philanthropist. He founded the James Weldon Johnson Memorial Collection of Negro Arts and Letters at Yale University. Later, he willed his collection of photographs to the same. He also directed that any proceeds and royalties from his books that would come posthumously were to go the James Weldon Johnson Memorial Collection of Negro Arts and Letters.

Carl Van Vechten died in his sleep on December 21, 1964.

This is blackstarr saying “Vive La Renaissance”. Peace.

copyright © 2008 blackstarr blackstarr52@gmail.com

Harlem Renaissance, Carl Van Vechten, James Weldon Johnson, W E B Du Bois, Langston Hughes, Zora Neal Hurston, Countee Cullen, Bessie Smith, Ella Fitzgerald