Birth of an 'ism

There was a child.

He was a demon child. Filed with spite and cruelty the boy wreaked havoc on any who dared tread in his path. He had no sympathy, no morality, no kindness. Hatred and anger, lust and greed were all that beat within the putrid confines of his festering heart.

The child's parents knew of his evil, but they blithely ignored it, or downplayed its consequences
"He is improving, look at all the progress he's made," they would say when noting how he moved from maiming human babies to only torturing small animals. They would blame his violent streak on the video games and movies that dominated the media landscape, noting that their baby boy was only a product of his time.

The other children on the street feared the boy.

He did not respect their humanity. They were objects to him, only fit to be manipulated, used or destroyed. If they had something he wanted, he took it. If they lacked something he had, he sneered at their lack.

Yet, the boy's parents remained oblivious. They refused to consider that anything serious was wrong with their little man. Even when they acknowledged his most heinous flaws, they excused them and chastised others for being so negative. They claimed he was the victim of a smear campaign, and that it was no longer safe for a good, honest boy to grow up in America.

Amazingly, they called on every other parent in the neighborhood to solve their son's problems even as they undermined those efforts.

When the other children fought back, they were accused of torturing the little tyrant, and told to practice forgiveness. When other parents scolded him, they were reminded that their own children were not perfect so they needed to be less critical.

The boy's parents said that his problems were too large for them to handle alone, yet any solutions not proposed by them were immediately met with disdain. It was if the parents wanted workers, not partners in their fight to change their son.

Over the years, relations between the boy's parents and everyone else devolved. Common ground was scarce. It seemed that the boy's evil fed and sustained him, and in some ways provided comfort and succor to his parents. They benefited from the money the boy generated through his heinous actions, they basked in the sense of pride they felt when he accomplished great deeds through nefarious means

After a time, the boy's parents were no longer concerned about reigning the boy in, in fact they brushed off most attempts to discuss his actions. He was their son, for better or for worse, and nothing would ever change that fact.

Nothing at all.



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Abandon All Hope

First off, fuck Donald Trump as a man, politician and a motherfucking crew. And if you down with Donald Trump, fuck you too...

Sorry, I was channeling Tupac right there. I apologize for that outburst. But I was listening to Baratunde go off on Donald Trump, and I felt like I needed to get gangsta after that joint.

Sigh, what else is there to say about the Donald after his victory? I'm saddened that he won, saddened that he can preen and pose like he's a serious person. I'm disappointed that Obama caved, even as I understand why it had to happen.

But, what I'm really, really feeling is validation. I'm feeling validation of my overarching pessimism about the state of race relations in this country, and my long-held belief that this thing is far more serious than most white folks realize.

See, Obama is it. He is the fully-formed realization of all the wet dreams of integrationists across this nation. He is the embodiment of post-racial America. The son of a mixed couple, a product of the best education, a former attorney, and a black man who loathes discussing race. He doesn't blame white folks, hell he loves his mother and grandparents. He isn't interested in righting past wrongs, he just wants to make the future better.

Simply put, if Obama can't make white folks comfortable, the rest of us Negroes, at least those of us with a fully functioning backbone, don't have a shot. With all of our accumulated anger and frustration, we don't have a snowball's chance in hell. There is no way we can ever, ever achieve American success and still not alienate the vast majority of the white population. Sorry, it can't happen.

Thanks for driving that point home Donald.


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Shoes

Momma used to say "Walk a mile in another man's shoes before you try to tell him about the fit."

Well, actually, my momma never said that, but it sounds like something she would have said given her penchant for useful mantras. What she did say was "One man's tea is another man's poison," which has some of the same key elements.

Basically, we need to really understand that people are different, and it's impossible to comprehend their difference until we start thinking a little like them.

This is a familiar topic around these parts, one I enjoy discussing from an intellectual perspective and a spiritual one. After all, when Jesus exhorted his followers to love their neighbors as they love themselves, what is implicit in that command is the idea that you have to take some time to think about what is the best way to show your neighbor love

For the most part, we're all pretty familiar with our own needs and wants. We live inside our heads, after all. But, with everybody else in the world, we're only guessing about what they need, how they feel and what they want. In order to get a clearer picture of our fellow man, we have to spend some time walking his path.

The problem is that most of us suck at thinking like someone else. Oh, we claim that we're putting other people's needs first, but in reality we're just putting our ideas into their bodies. We're not actually considering their past slights, their fears, their worries, their loves. We're basically saying "If that was me, this is how I would take it."

That is not good enough.

Whether it's talking about race, or dealing with any other relationship, the only path that ends in true enlightenment involves sacrificing a little of ourselves and our interests to see the world from another perspective. That means while black folks have some very justified anger and frustration at the actions of many of our white brethren, we need to understand that their world is so much easier than our own that it is only natural that they would reject changing it.

How many of us can honestly say that if we were able to partake in all the glorious excesses of whiteness that we ourselves would not be loathe to sacrifice our privilege for some nebulous concept of fairness? Would we look at ourselves with disdain for that choice, or just chalk it up to the way the world works?

Conversely, to the few brave white souls who still frequent this site, you all need to stop expecting that all black folks who want to see the world change will be patient and kind when discussing the realities of race and racism, or that we will make a point to acknowledge our white allies at every turn.

Quite honestly, if we were really friends you wouldn't need us to soften every blow to your ego with a pat on the back. Now, it is true that a spoonful sugar does ease the passage of medicine, but there are times when the continual toll of life as a black person in America makes it impossible to really care how ANY white people feel. There is time when the casualness with which white folks reinforce and dismiss their privilege only stirs anger. Deep, dark, violent anger and all we black folks can do is barely suppress that seething which leaves us strength left to play nice with our friends.

Walking in someone's shoes means you acknowledge these realities, and, sometimes, you give other folks a pass. You don't hold them accountable to a lofty standard because you understand just how difficult the climb is to that perch.

You disagree and correct with love because you recognize their humanity just as you understand your own.












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Walk The Line

I had one of those conversations recently.

Those talks that involve carefully placing each word behind the other, balancing your need to stay true to your feelings without alienating the listener. A conversation where you're always one poorly chosen word away from a serious incident.

A tightrope conversation.

Honestly, I don't have many tightrope conversations about race anymore. Most of the tightrope conversations I have these days involve explaining my worldview to my wife while trying not to piss her off.. All the married men understand what I'm saying.

But, every so often, I find myself trying to explain to a white person a simple fact of black life without using the brash, blunt style I so often employ here on the site. After all, what's cool when talking to your folks, doesn't exactly fly when interacting with The Man, and his representatives. I might not be keeping it revolutionary, but I am keeping it real.

Those tightrope conversations always leave me second guessing myself, and more convinced that certain divides will never be bridged. After all, there are many people that just don't believe in the pervasive nature of racism, whether it be in education, healthcare or law enforcement. And, since they've already made up their minds, they filter all new information through their existing reality. Of course, we're all guilty of that flaw, but in this case, it results in beliefs that quickly diverge from easily verifiable facts.

It would be easier if the folks who hold these sort of beliefs were ignorant ogres, but they're not. Many of them are well-intentioned, respectful and nice people. Yet, they align themselves with viewpoints and talking heads that I find odious to the utmost degree. I'm often struck while talking to folks as part of my job, how the simple realities of being me--a fairly young black male--are so foreign to a huge chunk of the population that they have almost no chance of relating to my worldview.

But, I still see value in walking that tightrope, if only for the chance to see the other side. It is impossible to truly appreciate other folks unless you do your best to put yourself in their shoes, and try to take a few steps. Walking the tightrope makes people comfortable enough to share their true thoughts. It may be frustrating, but it does have its rewards.

As long as you don't fall.




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