it's probably just coincigenocidal

In light of the acquittal of the police officers who murdered an unarmed Amadou Diallo, I offer “coincigenocidal”. Their acquittal is the proof that African-Americans are systematically being wiped off of the face of the earth . . . legally.

In light of the acquittal of the police officers who murdered an unarmed Sean Bell, I offer “coincigenocidal”. Their acquittal is the proof that African-Americans are systematically being wiped off of the face of the earth . . . legally.

In honor of all of the unarmed African-Americans killed by police officers in cold-blood, those unarmed African-Americans who will never receive justice, I offer:

coincigenocidal

perhaps it’s me, but,
i don’t doubt that it’s not.
perhaps it’s silly,
but, then,
i’m just not the type,
to simply fall for the hype.
there’s more to this than meets my eye,
and, i’d say that i know the reason why,
but, it can also happen to the little guy,
as easily as
to anyone else.
to stay alive, to survive,
it’s expedient not to accuse,
for to do so can be suicidal.
therefore, all i can say is that things
are, perhaps, not as i thought.
it’s probably just coincigenocidal.

this is my
beloved ghetto,
it is my
peace within chaos, my home . . .
that diminishes
daily.
they say that our drug addiction is suicide,
as clearly no government practices homocide.
therefore, that means
that we
are the systematic geniuses,
thus, we
the chemical masterminds
that gave us this drug called crack,
taking lives that we’ll never get back.
but hey, . . . sometimes, i’m super suspicious.
it’s probably just coincigenocidal.

those were my
beloved leaders,
they were my
hopes of holding my own, my guides . . .
that quickly faded
away.
they say that we have a way of killing off our own,
or, that our leaders were killed by assassins acting alone.
malcolm
had courage,
and, he made the x change,
and, martin
would be the one
to soften that change,
and make it all click,
until one day we got jealous, and gunned malcolm down,
and, then, martin made speeches on the wrong side of town.
so . . . pardon my paranoia:
it’s probably just coincigenocidal.

copyright © 1997, 2008 blackstarr

blackstarr52@gmail.com

Renaissance, New Millennium, coincigenocidal, genocide, conspiracy theory, racism, Amadou Diallo, Sean Bell, unarmed, acquittal

Ace of Trump (the race card)

I was at a friend’s "Windows Live" space the other day and she had made a post about an eighteen-year-old Caucasian on trial for displaying nooses on his truck. The display was an attempt to intimidate protesters who were waiting for a bus to return them to their hometowns, after the Jena 6 protest. This friend’s post included the term “playing the race card”. Every time I see that phrase, I am all too ready to hop up on my soap-box in an effort to make the world understand that “playing the race card” has its place, and that it should not be frowned upon as much as it usually is. I suppose that it depends on the definition that is employed. My use is not the idea of turning an issue into a race issue, but pointing out the fact that racial discrimination is at the root of the problem being discussed. The purpose, in my case, is to enlighten those who have not had the misfortune to have been at the wrong end of discrimination, and to point out the fact that things are not as "honky dory" as is claimed by the very ones who haven't been at that wrong end. Why do I do this? I do it because, inevitably, the question always arises "Why must you always bring race into the equation?", and it is a question that never seems to go away.

I’m fifty-six (56) years old, and African-American. There are those of us (African-Americans) who are a lot older than I am who have seen a lot more discrimination in their time and probably more than I will have seen in my lifetime, when it’s all been said and done. They have, somehow, found peace with what has happened over the years, as goes discrimination. Their bitterness has not faded into obscurity, but, they are less likely to make a big deal of it than some others – such as myself. I live a marvelous life with the ability to do just about whatever I please, but, I find that discrimination is alive and well. I feel that although it is a bit more contained and subtle now, it still puts me on the defensive at every turn. Therefore, I am quick to “play the race card”.

Subtleness is a very effective tool. One way that its use has proven to be very effective is in advertising. Just about all advertising uses “subliminal messaging” to sell their products. It works very well. We are bombarded with the same message over and over, so much so that we tend to block out those ads, and that’s where the effectiveness takes hold. It is similar to learning a foreign language by listening to tapes in one’s sleep. We don’t realize that the sound is there and we hear them “subliminally”, and, as a result, learn the language without even trying. The subtlety of discrimination works in precisely the same manner.

Let me give you an example of that subtlety that few people even realize exists. I’m not sure if they are still around, but, there once was a product known as “the Invisible Band-Aid”. It was “invisible” because it was touted to be the same color as your skin. Sorry, but, it wasn’t the color of my skin. One might ask “How is that discriminatory?” It is discriminatory by way of non-inclusion. In other words, “if this product does not blend in with your skin tones, then, this product just isn’t for you”. That probably sounds trivial, but, I assure you that it is far from insignificant. I’ve had both the pleasure and displeasure of working in not only suburban areas, but, rural areas as well. During that time, discrimination showed its ugly face almost daily. I have been in a store, in need of assistance and on many occasions, I’ve been told that the employee was already busy with a customer. I’m very cognizant of the world around me and when I know that the Caucasian customer being helped came into the store after me, and I am the last to be waited on, that’s (not so)subtle discrimination at its best. I’ve witnessed that sort of subtlety all too often in suburban and rural areas, although it is quite prevalent in the city as well.

I am most apt to climb aboard my soap-box when I hear a Jewish person speak with such fervor about the Holocaust, and he or she remarks how dreadful it was. They often want Germany put on trial over and over until they feel that justice has been served. I believe deep in my heart that what happened to the Jewish nation was absolutely horrible. It is, by far, one of the worst atrocities that has ever taken place. I have no real problem with Jewish people bringing up the Holocaust. It should be remembered in an effort to see to it that nothing of the sort ever happens again (of course, in light of Rwanda and Darfur, this practice fails miserably).

I have a problem when I’m told to stop bringing up the subject of slavery in America, as “it happened a long time ago. Get over it and move on.” Just about everybody in this country, with the exception of the American Indians, has ancestors who came here from some other country. In each and every case, one can trace their heritage back to some village in another land, down to the great, great, great, great so forth and so on –grand-parents. I do not have that luxury and I never will. When my ancestors were brought here on slave ships, no records were kept. The best that I can do is to go back about three or four generations. Beyond that, I am at a loss. I know that my heritage is African, but, from which country, from which tribe, I am unable to say – and will never be able to say. Like the Holocaust (which is always capitalized as opposed to lowercase “slavery” – subtlety?), slavery was an unforgettable atrocity. So, forgive me if I continue to remind the world that slavery in America was such a devastating event.

This is one of my favorite subjects, and I could digress ad infinitum. Rather than do that, I’ll leave you with this sentiment. When I feel discriminated against, I will speak on it. If I witness discrimination, I will, if feasible, act upon it. No matter how long it gets to be, if slavery and the atrocity of it should come up in the course of conversation, then so be it. If that’s what is meant by “playing the race card”, then, I guess “slavery in America” is the ace of trump, and I’ll never have a problem tossing that card upon the table.

This is blackstarr saying “Vive La Renaissance”.

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

Blackstarr52@gmail.com

Renaissance, New Millennium, discrimination, playing the race card, subtlety, slavery, Holocaust, Darfur, Rwanda

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

Renaissance, New Millennium, The Harlem Renaissance, Claude McKay, Max Eastman, W E B Dubois, Walter Jekyll, African-American Writers, expatriation, Sylvia Pankhurst, Marcus Garvey

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

Renaissance, New Millennium, Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, electability factor, primaries, Howard Dean, Philadelphia, alternative, fallacy

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

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

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

Renaissance, New Millenium, wasted, crystal, grey, matter