Sunday, April 27, 2008

Harlem Renaissance: Part 3 of 5

Claude McKay (1890-1948) was born in Jamaica to relatively prosperous parents. He was the youngest of his siblings and was taught by his brother, Uriah Theodore, who was a teacher. In 1907, McKay met Walter Jekyll, who would later become his close friend and patron. Jekyll encouraged him to write poetry in his native dialect, which did not thrill McKay. Jekyll was very instrumental in having two volumes of McKay’s poetry published: Songs of Jamaica, which detailed pheasant life, and Constab Ballads, which chronicled his short-lived career as a policeman (both 1912). At Jekyll’s urging, McKay ventured to America later that year.

Claude McKay attended Tuskegee Institute and Kansas State College, but farming was not in his blood. In 1914, he moved to New York. For the next five years, he held various jobs, including that as a waiter on the Pennsylvania Railroad. It was that experience which would later serve as the meat of his critically acclaimed novel Home To Harlem (1920). In 1919, McKay met Max Eastman. Eastman and his sister, Crystal, were co-owners of a radical journal entitled The Liberator. In July of 1919, one of McKay’s most recognized poems, If We Must Die, was published in The Liberator. McKay rose to instant stardom.

Sylvia Pankhurt, the British socialist, had McKay write for her, in England, for her magazine The Workers’ Dreadnought. He had become fascinated with and pulled into the world of Communism, followed by Socialism. In 1921, he returned to the U.S., and became the co-editor of The Liberator. Disagreements caused that venture to crumble after a very short time. In 1923, he returned to Europe, spending time in Paris and Berlin. While in Europe, he met Alain Locke, educator, philosopher, and the man who would later become known as the “mentor of the Harlem Renaissance”. The two worked together on a number of projects, but, McKay would become angered by Locke for publishing one of McKay’s poems, “White House” under a different title, “White Houses”, which had a severe impact on the dynamics of the title. Despite their differences, the relationship continued to flourish.

Claude McKay was outwardly unreceptive to both Marcus Garvey (and nationalism) and the NAACP. He and his associates fought for Black self-determination, but, went about achieving it within the context of social revolution. In 1928, his most famous novel was published, Home To Harlem, which depicted street life in Harlem. Despite its success, W.E.B. Dubois sharply criticized it as meeting the prurient demands of white readers and publishers looking for portrayals of black licentiousness. Dubois said that Home To Harlem “nauseated me and after the dirtier parts of its filth I feel distinctly like taking a bath”. Through the years, critics have come to dismiss that criticism. Among his other novels were Banjo (1930) and Banana Bottom (1933). He wrote two autobiographical pieces, A Long Way From Home (1937) and Harlem: Negro Metropolis (1940).

Claude McKay died in Chicago on May 22, 1948.

This is blackstarr saying “Vive La Renaissance”.

Blackstarr52@gmail.com

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Friday, April 25, 2008

The "Electability Factor" Fallacy


I was a bit disappointed that Sen. Hillary Clinton won the primaries in Pennsylvania, this past Tuesday. I found solace in the fact that it was not the blowout that the media had predicted. I found even more solace in the fact that my hometown, Philadelphia, gave an overwhelming show of approval for Sen. Barack Obama, by giving him nearly two-thirds of our vote. There were 158 delegates up for grabs in Tuesday’s election. Sen. Clinton pulled in at least 82 delegates and Sen. Obama gained at least 73. Sen. Obama holds his lead in total delegates at 1,723.5 to Sen. Clinton’s 1,592.5. A total of 2025 is needed to clinch the nomination, an amount that probably neither will attain before the Democratic National Convention (DNC). That means that the nomination, most likely, will be decided by the delegates at the DNC.

So, what’s next? There are two primaries coming shortly, those being North Carolina and Indiana. Sen. Obama is heavily favored in North Carolina; in Indiana, it’s been predicted that it will be a close race. Aside from the next two primaries, the biggest job is to convince the Super Delegates and the Democratic National committee that he or she is electable. There are two ideas afloat at the moment: the total popular vote count and either candidate’s “electability factor”, and they go hand in hand.

Sen. Clinton is determined to make the votes and delegates from Florida and Michigan count. Both states were disqualified when they moved up their primary dates after being warned of the consequences of doing so. Be that as it may, Ms Clinton is spouting victory in the overall amount of votes that she has received thus far. If Florida and Michigan were to be counted, that summation would be correct. Without those votes, Sen. Obama has a sizeable lead, as goes the popular vote. It should be noted that Chairman Howard Dean is slow to hear anything concerning the possibility of allowing those votes to be counted. By adding those votes, it gives Sen. Clinton a total of about 4.1 million votes and Sen. Obama 4.0 million. With the electoral college in place and fully operational, the popular vote holds no weight for either candidate receiving the nomination. Why, then, does she insist upon touting the grand total of popular votes? She is trying to justify the notion that she is more electable.

The biggest problem that I see at the moment is the dreaded media (big surprise there). They continue to load this story into their output without getting to what really matters. The primaries that have taken place and those that will take place shortly actually have no determining factor, by popular vote, as to who would be the more electable candidate. The primaries are between two Democrats. Electability speaks to the following notion: the ability to bring in more votes than the Republican Party’s candidate. Therefore, it may mean something only if they were facing a Republican, which does not happen in a primary race. That would determine which candidate is more electable. In the primaries, they are only up against each other. It neither addresses nor brings to any conclusion which candidate is more electable than the opposing Republican candidate. None of the media seems to be addressing that issue. Voters hear the totals, and figure that it makes sense without hearing the whole story. The key issue seems to be “electability”, which, due to its own meaning and the very definition of the word “primary”, becomes a non-entity.

One thing that we need do is to stop “Hillary Hatin’”. It’s merely politics as usual, or in this case, “parlor tricks” as usual. It’s the way that the politicians have been playing the game since for forever. It’s not a very good way to run a campaign, but, by now, we should all expect it. It is true that Sen. Clinton has left a bad taste in the mouths of a lot of people, and she brings the “hatin’” to her own doorstep all by her lonesome. There is a bigger picture to consider. As much as a multitude of us want to see Sen. Barack Obama progress to President Obama, there is the very distinct possibility that he may not get the nomination. It is what it is. That’s just a fact. In that very unlikely and unfavorable situation, one must ask oneself “Do I still want change, or do I want eight more years of George W. Bush?” View Ms Clinton from a distance and take the nonsense on the chin. If Sen. Barack Obama does not get the nomination, she may be our only hope (Lord help us). She may not be your choice, but, please – consider the alternative.

This is blackstarr saying “Vive La Renaissance”.

Blackstarr52@gmail.com

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

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Thursday, April 24, 2008

oh baby

I’ve a casual friend – actually a work colleague whom I’ll call Fay – who got married last year, becoming the stepmother to a 16-year-old girl I’ll call Cate. Last weekend, the 36-year-old Fay became a grandmother.

“So how’s the baby?” I asked, more for the sake of being polite than out of any real interest.

“He’s a lovely little thing,” she said. “And Cate seems quite happy – we actually managed to have a decent conversation for the first time in years.”

“Well, babies often bring a family together,” I mused.

“Maybe,” Fay replied, and an odd note of bitterness crept into her voice. “All I know is that I’m now a grandmother at 36. And all of a sudden, despite all the shit she’s put us through over the past year, despite the fact that yet another teenaged girl has given birth out of wedlock, everyone in the family now loves her and looks at her as quote-unquote ‘normal’, while they’re all looking at me and going, ‘Fay, when are you gonna have a baby?’ Never mind the fact that Nate and I don’t want kids – Cate is enough. But I’m viewed as some kind of freak because I don’t want to have a baby…why is that?”

I can well relate to how she feels. Eight weeks shy of my 50th birthday, I’ve never had a child, never been pregnant, and what’s more, I never wanted children. While my sisters and my childhood girlfriends played house with their Chatty Cathy and Betsy Wetsy dolls, I was writing poems and plays; when I played with dolls, it was with Barbie, and my fertile imagination had her travelling the world and enjoying exciting adventures that had nothing to do with children or cleaning and cooking for Ken. I made the decision at the tender age of nine that I would never have children, and while I have never regretted it, I will agree with Fay and say that society looks upon a woman who is childless as an aberration.

My parents – who were light years ahead of their time in sexual matters, or perhaps they merely remembered the passion of youth and so were more realistic in their thinking – explained procreation to my siblings and me at an early age and without embarrassment. When I was 13 my menstrual cycle began, and they repeated the talk, adding that now I could get pregnant, so any sexual curiosity on my part could have consequences which would last forever.

“I’m never havin’ kids,” I stated with all the loftiness a 13-year-old could muster. “I don’t want kids – I want to do other things.”

“That may be,” my mother shrugged. “But if you don’t want them, then you’ll need to abstain from sex, which is what I hope you’ll do, leastways til you’re old enough to handle it. But I suspect you won’t, so don’t leave it up to the boy to protect you – protect yourself. If you absolutely cannot wait, then come see me, and I’ll get you protected.”

So I went on the Pill at the age of 14, remaining on oral contraceptives until my doctor took me off them at the age of 36 because – as a smoker – my risks of stroke and/or heart attack had increased. From 36 until my liberating hysterectomy at the age of 43, I gritted my teeth and gratefully accepted a Depo Provera injection every three months.

In between the ages of 18 and 43, I had to listen to a variety of often intrusive and insulting remarks about my childless state, including:

only selfish people don’t want kids (has anyone told this to the millions of men who have never married or fathered children?)

God made women to have kids (and does God make the people who have kids abuse them?)

is there something wrong with your fallopian tubes? (no, and there’s nothing wrong with my birth control, either!)

God put you here to have kids (so God talks to you – what does your doctor say about this?)

are you gay? (this from men who were unable to believe that I could reach the age I have without producing at least one rug rat)

who’s gonna take care of you when you get old? (I personally can’t think of a worse reason to have children)


why don’t you adopt? (this from people who assume that I desperately want kids but a medical problem prevents me from having them)

Society treats people with children better. They’re given more time off when children are born or adopted or sick. In the UK, there are special parking places at stores and malls for families with kids, similar to the parking spaces reserved for the handicapped. Also in the UK, people with small children or infants are given preferential treatment on public transport the same way the handicapped and elderly are.

By contrast, society treats childless women as suspect. They assume that all women have maternal feelings, that all women yearn to create life. People in general assume that single and childless people are eager to view other’s snapshots of their children and grandchildren, or to have their working day interrupted by a co-worker who brings the newest addition to their family into the office. An assumption is made that childless single women are self-centered, soulless, emasculating creatures concerned only with their careers. And we’re certainly not deserving of time off, though we work as hard as our counterparts with families, and our taxes help to pay for the schools attended by the children of said counterparts.

Let’s look at some stats:

Currently, there are approximately 513,000 children in foster care in the United States. It's estimated that 114,000 are eligible for adoption.

There are just over 70,000 children and young people looked after on any given day in the UK, almost 50,000 (62.5 per cent) of whom live with 43,000 foster families.

Each week, child protective services agencies throughout the United States receive more than 50,000 reports of suspected child abuse or neglect.

An average of nearly four children die every day as a result of child abuse or neglect.

I could go on, but why bother? Clearly, some of these people who wanted children obviously didn’t want them enough to treat them well. If all the people who had children wanted them, then why is the foster care system straining at the seams – why do I have to look at that horrid commercial for the NSPCC (National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children)? Personally, I find it frightening that you need a license to drive a car, a license to hunt or fish, yet anyone can become a parent, even those people who should never become parents.

And for the record, I don’t hate kids. I have 10 nieces and nephews, 2 great-nieces and 3 great-nephews and am godmother to five children. And I love all these children dearly. I love them as much as I love myself, and I loved myself enough to realize my devotion to other things would detract from motherhood.

So the next time you decide to put down us childless single folks, don’t.

copyright © 2008 KPMCL

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

blues for the B-boys

stout Sheldon & slender Shelby
(aka “Hardcore” & “Sex Me”)
brothers in blood.
eclectic enigmas symbiotically connected
by the twin children of crack & crime
always doin’ or markin’ time.

& the baby of the bunch
mah nigga Big Bang
his pants always hang
below the crack of his ass
& his voice is strident, like breaking glass.

psychically frail Frederick (aka “Fat Al”)
frowns frightfully,
a front for his fearfulness at
being encircled by communal homicide
always eating, a slow-motion suicide.

from a loneliness that none will admit
they’ve allowed her admittance into their clique
they are both furious & curious:
cuz she can’t be described or classified as a
“bitch” “hoe” or “hood rat”
so they wonder how she escaped that.

& she knows she can’t reach them:
they are not seduced by the syllables of Shelley,
& they are bemused by her belief that
In education lies salvation,
although they all grudgingly agree that
“Etheridge Knight is aw-ight.”

so she subtly tries to teach them
(without seeming to do so)
transforming the essays of Malcolm into rap,
explaining the origins of the dap,
there are trips to the museum & the beach, where,
sadly, she discovers none of them can swim.

they would drown in such deep water
& she cannot tell them they are drowning on dry land
(not while Bang holds that nina in his hand)
so she hides her fears
endlessly plays Tupac’s So Many Tears,
& together they wait for The Man.

copyright © 2007 KPMCL

Monday, April 21, 2008

wasted membranes


i get high on crystal meth;
i get stoned, like a soul picnic,
wasted membranes,
you’re gone
and i’m left with twisted grey matter.

she’s my pusher,
wide open,
and ready for action.
she, her, they.
i know it’s you,
but do you trip like i do,
on the vapor trail?
get busy child, trip like i do.
i’m jaded, i’m faded, i made it
to a place
where darkness veils
when all else fails,
and darkness is the mask
that hides us all.

it’s been three days,
and now, i’m starting over.
there’s high and low
and crystal meth is high
and twisted matter is low.
and i know it’s you, but you
don’t trip like i do.
bound too long,
you know it’s hard, or do you?
you’re wild, sweet and cool,
wide open
and ready for action.

i get high on crystal meth;
i get stoned, like a soul picnic.
i end up with wasted membranes.
and, i know
you’re right,
but I’m left
with twisted grey matter.


This is blackstarr saying "Vive La Renaissance".

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

blackstarr52@gmail.com

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Sunday, April 20, 2008

Change: part 2


In 1969, from August 15th through August 18th, the first Woodstock concert took place in Bethel, New York. It was an historic event of magnanimous proportion. I wasn’t there. I was only 17 years old, and Mom said, quite calmly and simply “No”. She would have said “H*ll, no!”, but, she’s not a swearing woman. Years passed, and I became a father. On July 29, 1985, my son was born. I was there. On August 9, 1987, my daughter was born. I was there. On July 2, 2005, Live 8 took place with concerts all around the world, in an effort to convince the major powers of the world to drop or, at the very least, greatly reduce the debt of African nations. One such concert was held here in Philadelphia. I was there, along with my two children, witnessing history once again. Finally, on April 18, 2008, another historic event - another historic event of magnanimous proportion took place, and, again, it was right here in Philadelphia. Sen. Barack Obama spoke at a rally, at Independence Hall . . . and I was there!

“CHANGE!” Did you hear that?! Let me play it for you one more time. “CHANGE!” That’s the sound of nearly 40,000 people shouting “change” all in one huge, unanimous voice. That was the scene this past Friday when I witnessed the voice of the most charismatic person that I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear. There was the warmth of summer-like temperatures. Frisbees were tossed about as if we were back in Haight-Asbury, circa 1968, and there was the seemingly endless chant of “Obama, Obama, Obama!” Music was being piped into the microphones, and the crowd sang along and danced to the tunes that were familiar, but, soon, they grew tired of even the peppiest of tunes. There was but one thing that they had all gathered for – the appearance of Sen. Barack Obama.

We’ve all heard it before. We’ve all listened to it over and over and over. Yet, we never seem to tire of that charismatic voice saying that what this country needs is change. He reminded us that Sen. Hillary Clinton was not above playing the same old political games of kowtowing to big business, and business as usual. He reminded us that the name “John McCain” was just another way of saying “George W. Bush”. He reminded us that he was not willing to let the lobbyists maintain their headlock upon the will of the people. He said more than a mouthful. More than anything else, he reminded us, again, of what this country needs. Not for one second did we ever tire of his trademark call for change.

I missed Woodstock. I really wanted to be there. Four days of wanton freedom and it slipped through my fingers. I was fortunate enough to be present when my children were born, and I was there to witness history in the making, with my children in tow, by attending what could be called “the concert of the millennium”, Live 8. This past Friday, I witnessed history, once again, as I stood among the crowd of nearly 40,000 admirers, and listened with bated breath as the man say “Change”.

This is blackstarr saying “Vive La Renaissance”.

Blackstarr52@gmail.com

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Friday, April 18, 2008

Change: part 1

No matter what accomplishments President Barack Obama should accumulate during his eight years in office, his claim to fame will be one simple word: change. There is a lot of talk about the folly of voting along party lines these days. As I always like to remind everyone, in a presidential election there are only two parties: Republican and Democratic. No matter who else runs, they are the only two that really count. When it’s all said and done, the winner will be either a Republican or a Democrat. It is what it is. That can change in the future if we make the right efforts at the local and state levels, priming a good, viable candidate for office, regardless of their party affiliation. For today, it is what it is – Republican or Democratic. Do you want change or do you want another eight years of no foreseeable way out of poverty for most of America? Do want change or do you want to continue to live in a country that does not care one iota about its citizens’ health? Do you want change or do you want our children, our future, to continue to receive a second-rate education? Do you want change or another few more years of American soldiers dying in yet another war that should not have been in the first place? Are you going to get out there and help us vote in a Democrat? Will you help us to vote in a Democrat who will bring about a change?

I am who I am. No matter what most other folks are into, I can only be me. I’m not into reality TV – not in the least. I’m not down with the touchy-feely philosophies that a lot of people feed into as of late. More importantly, I’m not as “politically correct” as most folks would have me to be. That having been said let me remind you that Barack Obama is a truly charismatic man, that he professes an affinity towards change, and that he claims to be against letting big corporation lobbyists maintain control. Perhaps all of that is true, but only time will tell. Those are all good reasons to cast your vote for Sen. Barack Obama. I will give you one more reason – one more valid reason - for my African-American brothers and sisters to help vote Sen. Barack Obama into office – one for which the “politically correct” folks will probably fry me. Sen. Barack Obama is someone with whom I can identify – he is an African-American. That alone is reason enough for me.

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

blackstarr52@gmail.com


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