Black Folk, Hilary and Cognitive Dissonance, Part II

It’s now 2016. And she’s back!

This time Hilary is presumably smarter, wiser and has more cache. So now on top of having slept with a former governor and the President of the United States, Hilary, now a former U.S. Senator and U.S. Secretary of State, has returned to the political forefront to collect what’s “owed” to her – the Presidency of the United States. Giddily, Hilary is counting on the vastly increased voter turnout for ages: 18-24 yrs., at 55.4% and 24-44 yrs., at 64%, in 2008 alone, that Barack Obama’s presidential candidacy garnered for the Democratic Party. In 2016, this much increased voter registry is like salve to a wounded soul and Hilary intends to capitalize on every single one of those votes!

Our political leaders would like for us to forget that during the Clinton Administration, the lives of black people had been vastly devastated and destroyed, and that we are still reeling from the effects of a so-called well-intentioned benevolent, “black” president, whose policies turned from center left to right of center in an attempt to politically survive the onslaught of the opposing political party.

Hilary walked in lock-step with her husband. His deficit-inducing policies for Black people, i.e., mass incarceration of Black men and women – where the rate tripled during his presidency and gave him the dubious distinction of being the only president to have the largest incarceration rate of prison inmates in American history. Eighty to ninety percent of all Black drug offenders were sent to prison during his administration. By 2000, the rate was more than 26 times the level in 1983. A more disturbing occurrence was that when Clinton left office, the overall unemployment rate for blacks was at 42%. This skyrocketed unemployment rate can be directly attributed to the North American Free Trade Agreement, NAFTA (enforced in 1994 by the Clinton Administration) and of course, mass incarceration.

Then there is the Crime Bill (signed by Pres. Clinton in 1994). Simply put, it was the death nail for poor Black people nationwide. Following that legislation came his sweeping Welfare Reform bill (signed by Pres. Clinton in 1996) that gouged out the eyes and gutted the heart and soul of the poor. Adding to those two distinctive legislative body slams, was Clinton’s urban version of redlining. Clinton made it impossible for Black people living in public housing to welcome back a loved-one after their having served time in prison. If public housing authorities were made aware that a relative was “harboring” a former felon, they were evicted from their homes and many were forced to join the growing numbers of the homeless sub-culture. If that isn’t a form of redlining and the deconstruction of the Black family, then I don’t know what is? Oh, and let’s not forget Rwanda!

Hilary throughout all of this, stood by her man and applauded his life-altering policies. As a matter-of-fact, Hilary reminds me of Ms. Anne from the days of the antebellum South. The dutiful wife of the Euro-American purveyor and enslaver of human bodies (turned chattel) of African descent. Ms. Anne saw how her husband lusted after both young girls and women (and yes, sometimes men and boys too). She heard their cries as he raped one woman or child after the other; and after the rape, she would often have to look into the faces of the issue that the rape had incurred . . . and then looked the other way.

Hillary Rodam Clinton clearly comes from a long line of Ms. Annes. She has supported and championed her husband’s every political step – possibly even contributing to some of his political machinations that were choreographed in order to affect his political  and expedient survival.

In support of Bill Clinton, Hilary championed his reforming the welfare state – that is the welfare state for the poor and not for American corporations – and by extension, Wall Street. She warned the nation about the “superpredator” black child who languishes in gangs (that he probably had no choice to join but for his own tenuous survival). She carved into the backs of these Black boys and young men the labels of drug cartel dealer, recidivist and the violently incorrigible; and without hesitation, she stated that these young black and brown men needed to be “heeled”. The Clintons are survivalists . . . political survivalists in the purest sense. These black and brown “superpredators”, sons of mothers and fathers, are survivalists as well. Their existence being no less worthy than the existence of the Clintons. However, according to Hilary, as chattel, they  deserve to be “heeled”. Their battle for survival in an urban environment that was created purposefully to bring about their extinction, was not factored into Hilary’s, sociological analysis of “the problem”. Hilary could not be so bothered to connect the survivalist dots.

Notwithstanding this insidious history, Hilary believes that the time is now for her delayed coronation. And in order for her to assume the position, she anticipates and expects the undying support of Black people, grandfathered in and led by members of the Congressional Black Caucus. Hilary is banking on this group in particular to deliver her to the Oval Office – sans an authentic mea culpa.

Without so much of a semblance of righteous indignation for the political offenses made against the wellbeing of Black people, our cognitive dissonant Negro leadership have sold their souls again! Only those with cognitive dissonance can stand beside a woman whose political and social history has been so egregiously antithetical to black equality and socioeconomic empowerment. Only those who don’t believe in the existence and power of their own sovereignty, can allow for such blatant disrespect.

Hilary’s promises (and what are her promises to Black folks, exactly?) are empty platitudes that she well knows she will not be held accountable for. Why should she be? Not one Black political leader of note has held her husband responsible or accountable for his reckless policies and the resultant decimation of the lives of millions of Black people.

Recently a friend said to me that he hoped that Trump does win the presidency. He believes that, “It would serve Negroes right if Trump won!” We keep allowing both the Democrats and the Repugnants respectively, to take us for granted and/or to ignore us completely! To have the Repugnants in office for four, possibly eight years, means that EVERY SINGLE POLICY AND LEGISLATION of the Obama Administration, will weather the probability of being repealed.

Yep, maybe that’s exactly what we need? However, we can ill-afford for the Repugnants to gain control of the Executive Branch and/or hold on to the legislative branch. Nor can we afford to continue to sleep the importance of our “controlling”  statehouses and local school boards. So, yes! We do need a strong and viable candidate to win; and apparently it doesn’t matter if the candidate lacks honesty, commitment, or integrity.

Hilary likes to talk about how connected to our community she has always been; however, while Bernie was standing in protest lines for Black folk’s civil rights and marching on Washington with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Hilary was campaigning for Senator Barry Goldwater [R] and working for Walmart. I’m just saying!

Now, do not misunderstand me! I am not trying to tell anyone how to vote or not to vote! That’s not at all what I am advocating! What I am suggesting here is that we stop giving our vote away to charlatans just because their husband played a saxophone on the Arsenio Hall Show! It is imperative that we  end the decades’ long of our being taken for granted by the Democrats whom don’t even care to ask us,”How you doin?” or what is it that we need. The presidential campaign season comes along and politicians (both black and white) come around to tell us what they believe we need to hear – and we rub our heads, smile and swallow the watermelon whole.

Our so-called political leaders should have demanded that Hilary BEG us for our vote and seek redemption for her past transgressions against Black people! Previous House Majority Whip, Congressman James Clyburn [SC], delivered his state in a red bow to Hilary and both he and Congressman John Lewis [Ga.] have proclaimed their unwavering support of Hilary and her presidential campaign. I believe that these messiah conscious political sellouts are too entrenched in the status-quo to assert their autonomy and to demonstrate what true radical and political leadership should and can be about. Yes, if you must, vote for Hilary. . . but for God’s sake, make her ass work for it! She does not deserve our vote without an authentic apology and a public lambasting of her husband’s past egregious and draconian public policies. It is time to make both parties court us! Not take us for granted or totally ignore us!

It is 2016 and we still don’t realize the potency of our power – either politically or economically! Nineteenth century scholar, educator and author, Anna Julia Cooper, stated that “When and Where I Enter, the Entire Race Enters with Me.” Paulo Freire adroitly warned us that, “We cannot enter the struggle as objects, in order to later become subjects!” Congressman Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., tried to empower us as voters, when he asked, “What’s in your hands?” And then answered, “You’ve got God in your hand, and He’ll let you win!” Congresswoman Shirley Chilsom taught us how to be “Unbought and Unbossed!” El Hajj Malik Shabazz (Malcolm X) ardently articulated that for us, it must be the “Ballot or the Bullet”, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., cautioned us that “if we don’t stand for something, we will fall for anything!” And finally, Frederick Douglass told us to “Agitate, agitate, agitate!

If we choose Ms. Anne over Bernie – and we will – her feet must be held to the fire and ours as well! Let this be the last voting cycle where we wait for the Negro status quo to tell us whom to vote for and thereby lead us to slaughter! Let us stop only coming out to vote every four years and idly standing by in the off years as the statehouses are grandiosely delivered to the GOP! And let Hilary be the last politician that will arrive on our doorstep several months before a presidential election, expecting loyalty and votes, in exchange for empty platitudes!

WE ARE BETTER THAN THIS! If we had the will, temerity and self-conviction of Harriet Tubman to be free, we would start our own political party (the Tea Party did it!) and label ourselves the INDIGNANT Party! Far too many people have died to end our non-representation and marginalization. We’ve been given the tools people! Let us constructively utilize them and put an end to our collective cognitive dissonance!
And then let the M@&$!(&@%!$ come to us . . .  begging!

 

Black Folk, Hilary and Cognitive Dissonance, Part I

On Saturday in the great state of South Carolina, Hilary Clinton won overall eighty-seven percent of the Black vote; eighty-seven percent of the Black vote! Seventy-three percent to Bernie Sanders’ twenty-six percent.

If this is not a sign of the worst case of collective cognitive dissonance there is, I don’t know what is? I just don’t get it! Black folks are so damn loyal! But to whom? And why? Roland Martin of TVOne, News Now, claims that Black people are voter savvy and are paying attention; and if that is so, why are we allowing ourselves to be taken for granted? I categorically disagree with Mr. Martin.

Listen, I am really clear that the stakes are high here; very clear! I know that the Repugnant Taliban needs to be stopped and that we need a strong candidate who can obliterate the opponent – whomever that may be! However, that candidate needs to recognize that they cannot do it without us! More to the point, we need to recognize that we are a powerful voting block and that we can demand what we want! And that when you come to us, you better come right!

So when I think about this South Carolina primary and how Hilary obliterated Bernie Sanders 73% to 26%, I am clear that we are suffering from cognitive dissonance – the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change. Thank God that Black Lives Matter members are cognitively disobedient!

Now let me contextualize my point here. To be cognitively dissonant is to disavow truth as it stands before you. It means to take the facts that are obvious – and maybe even painful – and then to pretend that the pain does not exist even while a boulder is being directly placed on the wound.

Take for instance the white plantation overseer, he is just a step above the slave; however, his treatment of the slave is brutal and cruel. Then Civil War happens and the slaves are set free. Now, the former slave and the overseer are economically on par (the overseer having lost his job). From that moment until now, the former overseer turned poorer white – still sees himself better than Blacks, no matter their economic levels and because of that, they consistently vote for the political party whom they believe will rid the nation of these lazy, shiftless, begging-for- handouts nigras.

What they tend not to understand is that they are voting against their own best interests. Case in point, it is a well-known fact that as a whole, poor whites receive more food stamp and welfare assistance than do Blacks. Also of note, the welfare system was created for poor whites, not Black people. Yet, whenever given the opportunity, they vote for the political party that wants to divest them of this assistance.

Black folks suffer from the same cognitive dissonance. Former President Bill Clinton’s politically expedient policies unequivocally destabilized the Black poor. And it is also a fact that those policies have remained at the heart of our economic devastation and social justice immobility.

It’s as if no one remembers. As if the world had stopped and time has stood still. And then after a spell, the world began to twirl on its axis again and no one remembered what had been said, what had been done, what had been felt; and finally, what all had been destroyed.

So why does no one remember what the Clintons did to the Black poor? How can this lovefest between the Negro elite and their constituency be in existence? To put it pointedly, I don’t give a rat’s ass who you support; however, I am interested as to why someone would support a candidate whom has a stellar record of supporting the policies of her husband’s administration that worked in opposition to Black upliftment. Hilary has done this without being held duly accountable!

Surely you would think that with the Clintons record of baggage, our leadership would take her to task. But that is difficult to do when your thoughts and decisions are inconsistent with the obvious truth – with what history tells you.

The Democrats need to win this election! I get it! Why can’t we realize that we are politically in the best position than we have ever been! She NEEDS our vote! However, because of our cognitive dissonance – we are giving it to her without her ever being held to task for every damn policy that her husband set forth that debilitated the Black community as a whole, and poor Blacks in particular.

Both Hilary and Bill should have been made to stand upon the ‘auction block’ and beg for our support by listing chapter and verse, their political transgressions. Instead, no mea culpa was demanded! Which then means that if she becomes president, she will not be held accountable for past transgressions enacted by her husband.

Long ago Hilary decided that she should be crowned the first woman United States president. After Bill left office, together they strategized to bring her desires, dreams and privilege to fruition. Essentially, her experience would be that she had slept with both a former governor and former president – and by God, that alone should give her the required cache to run a nation! What more of a resume could she possibly need?

During that 2007 campaign, which Hilary ultimately lost, her loyal black supporters – especially those who voted for the Crime Bill in support of her husband, stood steadfast by her side and did not leave it until the last vote was cast and Barack Hussein Obama, became the 2007 Democratic nominee for president.

To be continued. . .

 

 

Embracing Our Crazy!

So let’s talk about embracing our crazy!
Recently, a very good sistah-friend mentioned during one of our insightful conversations that she was unlovable because she was, as she claimed, “crazy”. She went on to explain that her craziness emanates from being mentally ill. I stopped her right there in the middle of her self-assessment and asked her, “What Black person in the entire Diaspora do you know of that is not crazy?!” We both heartily laughed; however, this got me to thinking and my stream of consciousness began to flow.

I believe that living in captivity for over four hundred years will definitely make you borderline insane! I went on to convey to her, just in case she didn’t know; or to remind her, just in case she had forgotten, that Black people have been crazy since the moment we were torn from the shores of West Africa, and that specific trauma, (read craziness) has been passed down from one generation to the next, as we live in a country/world where the Lie of Inferiority has been purposefully constructed in order to dehumanize our collective existence.

Both our symptoms and symbiosis is rooted in a traumatized cultural DNA that will continue to proliferate until the day that we are able to remove the invisible shackles of the lie of inferiority, from our feet/hands, soul/spirit and most significantly, from our hearts and minds.

I went on to express to my sistah that living in captivity does not allow for sanity – especially if you are a conscious being! My consciousness has always been mitigated by my trying to silence the crazy and allowing for it to surface only when necessity calls. Like for instance, one day while I was standing in queue, a Caucasian man stepped and stood in front of me as if I wasn’t even there. My crazy immediately surfaced. I explained to him, and unapologetically so, that I was “too big and too damn Black for him to have not seen me standing there!” The SOB turned beet red and very quickly moved out of my way! Satisfied, crazy went back inside!
That one little encounter could have resulted in an angry explosion or implosion. Had I not known from whence I come: culturally, historically, politically and spiritually, I would have been left standing there, mad as hell about that man exerting his white privilege to pretend that he didn’t notice me at all! Instead, I released my embraced crazy and let that sucker know exactly how I was feeling at that moment. That instance and many to follow and those yet to come, brings greater understanding to the meaning of the adage: Ignorance is Bliss! Oh, for the days of being an ignorant, silenced little Negro gurrl!

But I digress.

To be conscious in America means to live your life day in and day out, in a state of perpetual indignation! Living without a handkerchief covering your eyes, or on top of your head, is to live a revolutionary life constantly swatting away at the darker side of consciousness – that side that makes you angry and your insides combustible, that makes you sick and can even possibly cause cancer. That makes tears gather in the wells of your eyes as you fight for visibility and voice. That feeling that makes you blame your loved ones and everyone outside of yourself for your feelings of inadequacy and for the self-loathing, that goes to sleep with you at night and wakes up with you in the morning.

Craziness in captivity, is like carrying an anchor of a ship; it can weigh you down. Make you immobile and silence you. In other words, the creators of the lie of inferiority have effectively created a race/color dichotomy that has transfixed the world. This was done specifically to secure their superiority. Embracing the crazy means to fully understand the insidiousness of their purposeful actions. It also means to live an unapologetically sepia toned life where nothing is just black and white and your voice and actions become unsilenced.

It is imperative that we learn how to respect crazy like we should have respect for the Atlantic Ocean, the harbinger of the Middle Passage and the grave site of millions of our ancestors. We have to learn how to embrace crazy because we cannot escape it. Regrettably, our own sense of crazy keeps us in denial and suffering from a “double consciousness”. This double consciousness-led life, leads to our donning the mask of hopelessness and futility and for some, leads into the abyss of mental illness. Our individual and collective denial is just a mechanism to protect ourselves from dealing with the realities of living in an unjust and unequal reality.

The “craziness” that we experience from day to day, can only be counteracted first with love in all of its configurations – maternal, paternal, familial, collective, romantic, cultural, and nationalistic. Then penultimately,  it must be counteracted with the knowledge of self. I had to remind my sistah-friend, that her crazy made her even more lovable and that no conscious Black person would love her less because of it!

I have come to realize that the only way to remain even remotely sane in a country that was unapologetically built on the backs of three hundred years of free black labor, is to embrace the crazy and turn it outward! It is to understand that if we don’t continue to feed our crazy with greater self-awareness; with revolutionary acts of kindness towards each other; with revolutionary acts of gaining greater historical and cultural knowledge of self; of embracing the revolutionary act of loving each other through the mire of opaqueness and ignorance; coupled with the revolutionary act of rejecting a historically and socially constructed lie of inferiority – we will continue to succumb into a crippling collective crazy, sucked into a vacuum where we are destined to implode.

In order to obliterate our crazy, (the invisible shackles) that mentally and spiritually renders us immobile, we must first feed our consciousness with the power of love. We must understand that the only way to circumvent the pathway to ‘crazy’ is to choose the path to intellectual, progressive and spiritual growth that can and must be passed on to our next generation and to generations to come.

We must learn to take our crazy to greater heights by joining such activist groups as Black Lives Matter, Campaign Zero, or the #SayHerName campaign, etc. Or else, you can start your own group – maybe a book club where you explore and deconstruct non-fiction and fictional revolutionary literary works.
The point is to take your crazy and put it to constructive use. You can ill afford, crazy imploding on you. Join these groups so that your crazy can be constructively nurtured and fed; so that at the appointed time, we will collectively move the pendulum over to the side of real humanity, where equality is reimagined and authentic, and most especially, we are moved into the light of revolutionary love.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Postcript:
So what does crazy look like?
 Post-traumatic stress slave disorder (which covers pretty much everything!)
 Believing that you’re unlovable
 Possessing a steady undercurrent of anger and self-doubt
 Self-hatred and loathing
 Hypervigilance, and much more

So how do we embrace crazy and what happens if we do? We embrace it with the knowledge of self and with the commitment towards healing. In other words, love does not function as a noun; it functions as a living, breathing verb! Love is the rubric! Love is revolutionary! So let us love and…
Embrace the crazy!

Hummingbirds

On the second installment of Oprah Winfrey’s Soul Sessions, Elizabeth Gilbert, author of “Eat, Pray, Love” was one of the guests.

Ms. Gilbert’s topic was on: The Curiosity-Driven Life. She spoke about having become an “anti-passion advocate” after so many years of advocating that we should follow what our passions are. In her talk, she specifically focused on a Facebook letter that she received from a woman who had attended her presentation earlier in the evening. The woman had  chastised Ms. Gilbert’s relentless obsession with encouraging the people in the audience to go after and fulfill their respective passions. Gilbert shared that she had felt really good about her presentation and about how well she thought it had been received earlier that evening, so when she read this woman’s letter, it brought to her heart and mind a very sobering reality that she had never considered before that night and that was that not everyone has “a passion”. That not every human being has a burning desire to do or go after a particular thing, and that not everyone has been able to identify what their passion(s) might be!

So with this awakening and new understanding, Gilbert began the process of reexamining the whole notion of what passion is. At the conclusion of this self-reflecting analysis, she realized there are two kinds of people in the world. There are the jackhammers and there are the hummingbirds – the former of which she self-identifies. Jackhammers relentlessly possess a desire to do a particular thing and place everything that they have into getting or acquiring that one thing!

On the other hand, there are hummingbirds whose lives are steeped in curiosity. They flit from flower to flower, field to field, pollinating wherever that go, creating an existence that is incredibly rich and complex – and of course, expanding their reach and knowledge-base as they move along! Hummingbirds are incredibly curious creatures and are always exploring different places and spaces in which to enable fertilization and thus to create the next generation of a pollinated planet.

This was my “aha” moment! I AM A HUMMINGBIRD! It is as simple as that – well not that simple. I am also a Gemini (which depending on the time of day, both confuses and complicates matters); and therein lies the ongoing potential for duality. However, I do feel much better now that I  have a greater understanding of my (affliction…affirmation? Whatever!). All I know is that I now feel exonerated, as if a burden has been lifted from my soul/spirit. I no longer need to try to explain myself to myself or anyone else for that matter (although I have never felt compelled to do so!) I am just me! Faults, flaws and all!

However, with this information, a whole new world has opened up for me as I continue to evolve and grow! I no longer have to question why I have not arrived, because I am in a continuous state of arriving! “AHA!” My state of arriving is very much an essential part of who I am and how I function in this world. It’s not so much that I don’t have passion, it’s just that my passions are just a bit muted and come in waves based upon my interest at any given moment (no, I do not have ADHD). Nonetheless, in defense of myself, I must admit that those passions are almost always equally divided and tempered by the level of talent and attention I can give to them at any given moment. As a matter-of-fact, I can clearly state that the absolute common denominator in all of this is that my curiosity always increases my circle of light, laughter, love and spiritual wellbeing.

As a very talented woman, I have curiously flitted from flower to flower, liking one thing and then another. I love the arts, academia and most of all, I love that I possess the innate ability to bring clarity – and dare I say healing, to what appears to be an unsolvable problem and/or situation when needed. I love the way that I can encourage people – and especially women – to see themselves in a light that shines clearly and not through an infused dimness.

I just don’t have one gift, I have many gifts, which are all used for the same reasons – in the hope that my sister and my brother – feel loved, valued and visible, at the end of our encounter(s). My purpose is to help those whom cannot help themselves, to seek greater understanding of themselves and ultimately, with those to whom they come into contact. Recently, a close sistah-friend called me a Renaissance woman because of all of my talents and my ability to put them to work either simultaneously or consecutively.

When I heard her loving expression of how she sees me and believes that the world should see me, my first response was (said to myself and in my mother’s voice): “Yeah, I’m a renaissance woman alright; more like a jack-of-all-trades and master of none!” But, then just as quickly, I ditched that self-defeating and negative thought process and received the description as a wholly legitimate manifestation of who I really am (Thank you friend). Truth be told, ever since I learned about my history as a Black woman living in America, I have allowed myself the freedom to be curious, bold, self-defining and to explore.

Gilbert stated that allowing yourself to explore your curiosity might well bring you to actually identifying what your passion(s) might be. That if you are a jackhammer, then so be it! However, being a hummingbird is just as important as being a self-identified passion seeker. To embrace your hummingbird status as you flit through life pollinating and discovering as you go along, you can possibly find that after pollinating the one hundredth field on your path, that you really do like pollinating and therein lies your passion and power! Most notably, she went on to say  that having identified a passion doesn’t necessarily mean that it has to be your only passion and that you have to stop there!

These words were a confirmation and affirmation for me! I had not articulated my spiritual self-identity in these terms heretofore; however, I know in my heart/soul that this belief had always been there, but just lacked the words to breathe this thought process into existence; even a wordsmith can be short on words at times.

With this solace that understanding brings, I can now state without an ounce of uncertainty, that I unequivocally affirm that I am a hummingbird (let’s not forget, who also harbors muted passions); and, that what I now know for sure is that for me – the absolute best is yet to come! All I have to do is to keep pollinating!

In closing, I will leave you with a poem from the 14th Century poet, Hafiz, which Ms. Gilbert shared with the audience. This brief, yet content rich poem brought about yet another profoundly ‘aha’ moment for me!

The place where you are right now
God circled on a map for you
wherever your eyes and arms and heart can move
Against the earth and the sky,
the beloved has bowed there-
The beloved has bowed there knowing
You were coming…
~Hafiz

Damn! Talk about being in the right place at the right time watching Soul Sessions! I couldn’t have asked for a better beginning at the dawn of a New Year. Hafiz’s words absolutely speak to my heart and the space in which I currently and spiritually inhabit.

Seeking Brighter Moments,

Jambalyastew©
Zakiyyah Zai’mah &
The Hand I Write With

CHIRAQ ~ A Review

After several attempts and two weeks later, I finally made it to the theater to see Spike Lee’s, Chiraq. As a rule, I always make it to the theater at least within the first three days of a film opening by a Black filmmaker and I NEVER buy bootleg! I knew from experience that if I didn’t make it to see his new film sooner, there would be no later, and then I would be reduced to waiting for its arrival on a cable network or to Netflix.

Shamefully the only theater I could find it playing was at the Black owned theater Cineplex 12 in Newark. Gratefully, there is a black owned theater in Newark to still be showing, a mere two weeks later after its premiere, this very important Black film. Unfortunately, there were only four people in the theater which included myself and a friend, there to be edutained. Tsk! Tsk!

In preparation to view Chiraq, I settled into my comfortable theater seat and sat back in anticipatory excitement of viewing this new Spike Lee Joint. I also reluctantly prepared to see two of Spike’s less desired (by me) filmmaking techniques – his predictable appearance in the movie and the inevitable shot where the protagonist remains in one place while everything else around him is moving forward. Barring that creative disagreement, I was ready for whatever Spike had planned for my enlightenment!

As the establishing shots began, the city of Chicago became the first notable character of the movie. Across the screen were splashed a panoply of idiosyncratic urban sights that included a multitude of murals from both taggers and artists (is there really a difference?) displaying the faces of now-deceased children and gang-bangers who lived in a world of daily violent chaos; with too many of whom had been felled by gunfire that is too often arbitrary and anonymous.

Shocking and sobering statistics regarding the amount of people killed in two of America’s most recent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were then displayed and that number is followed by the statistic that evidences the combined total of those two wars – is exceeded by the number of black males and children whom have been killed either on purpose or as collateral damage, by gang-bangers in the city that has become infamously known by the victims of such ongoing crime and violence, as Chiraq.

In true Spike Lee film wisdom/storytelling, the voiceover of a rapper begins to tell the story about Chiraq. To ensure that the rappers words are distinctively understood, Spike throws the lyrics upon the screen line by line in brilliant staccato – not unlike an artist splashing paint upon his canvas – so that we are assured to grasp the lyrics that the urban griot spits. This important visual is not wasted on Spike and probably since he is now a member of the AARP crowd, I’m sure he wanted to ensure that his contemporaries did not miss the rapper’s eloquent and important prologue. But I digress!
Soon thereafter, we were introduced to the narrator of the film whose presence resembled the manifestation of the West African Trickster – Anansi or Eshu, sent to tell the story to the village through cautioning and prophecy. Samuel L. Jackson, dressed in various suits of bold colors and textures, resembled a present-day Egungun, helping to guide us through the streets of Chiraq and into the lives of its under-siege dwellers.

Spike did not disappoint! Neither did any of the performances by an extremely talented ensemble cast. Spike Lee is a harbinger of Black film culture. Without doubt, he is one of our most significant storytellers. He is our Grio! He is the plumber laying down the pipe (no pun intended). He is the construction laborer helping to build the foundation. He is the Truth seeking Light! So it is incumbent upon us to understand that when art seeks light – especially in Black film – there are those in power who seek to keep that (art) truth in darkness. In Spike’s case, darkness comes in the guise of ensuring that his films are distributed to far less movie houses (on screens) than other black films that only seek to entertain and not to inform!

Brilliantly, Spike brought light and much needed attention to the microcosmic sub-culture of gang violence – a violence that has been historically bequeathed to them by a society whose origins are steeped in the viciousness of pillage, plunder and the lie of inferiority. Throughout the country, major urban areas are gripped in the chaos and utter despondency of gun violence. The United States Congress and Senate are the bitches of the NRA and are economically tethered to its empire building. And the film and television industry contributes to this growing violence on both the small and large screen by paying daily homage to the god of war and destruction.

Although Spike takes to task our culpability and our accountability (or lack thereof); and in his attempt to deconstruct our rationale for not taking responsibility of not being our brother’s and sister’s keeper, he refrains from using his platform to place blame solely in our hands. His mission (I believe) is to illustrate to us how resource-less communities can and will implode when it is resplendently clear that their existence to those whom are in power, doesn’t really matter at all.

Spike captures our attention and ensures that we “hear” the essential dialogue via character discourse that is lyrical and rhyming. His characters (all brilliantly cast) are seamless, strong, bold, determined and at times – unapologetic – Spike has created a new paradigm for the Greek play.

There have been questions and criticisms raised by some black feminists regarding Spike placing the burden of healing and saving of our cities on the bodies of Black woman. As a staunch card-carrying Womanist, I am thoroughly inclined to disagree. I believe that the one who has historically brought down nations because of her ability to bring a man to his knees; the one who carries a baby in her womb and gives birth; the one who nurtures and cultivates; the one who can then go to work in the fields and outside of the home – does definitely wield a tremendous amount of spiritual, emotional, mental and physical power, if correctly guided AND strategically utilized. Who is better situated to demand of our men to make a paradigmatic shift that will ultimately change the world?! We Black women have 12.5 cents in that quarter!

Once Lysistrata – the beautiful girlfriend of Chiraq, seeks counsel from Ms. Helen – a learned woman who too has been victimized by the violence of the streets – a whole other world opens up to her and she realizes the value of her existence and the power that she wields (physically, intellectually and ultimately, sexually) to ensure that the man whom she loves and by extension, all the other men and boys in the community will come to know, understand and believe – that love is truly the healing salve that can save a nation.

Kudos to Spike Lee for another Joint that brings a possibly useful strategy (hah!), poignancy, light, laughter, and the uncomfortable pain of insight that comes sprinkled with the never-ending possibility of hope and change to everyone who has the courage to not believe the lie of inferiority!

Oh, I almost forgot, no Spike Lee cameos and no crazy dolly shots . . . Yayy!

 

Our Girls Need Hashtags Too!

See this is the thing. Those 276 girls who were kidnapped by Boko Harum, are merely a drop in the proverbial bucket. Our shock and horror about this crime against these young girls is visceral. Every other posting on Facebook, Twitter, et al, tout our undying support and affection for girls we have never met and most likely will never meet. Hashtags abounding, people are holding up posters from all over the world that say: #bringbackourgirls – and this is great, for it shows our globally united concern and support for those girls and their families. However, there is one very significant issue that is going unnoticed that exists right here in the United States of America. On a daily basis, young girls and some boys, are forced to become sex slaves and are trafficked every single day. Yet, there are no #hashtags, or marches, or voices raised for those young girls’ stolen lives. Girls whom are forced into sexual slavery, right here in our very own backyard!

What is it about our fascination with spectacle – especially the spectacle of the other? Yes, we find the kidnapping and rape of these young girls horrifying and our hearts go out to them; however, here at home, our daughters and sisters are being thrown away and discarded like pieces of old trash. At this very moment, girls are being seduced into the human and sex trafficking industry and subsequently turned into 21st Century slaves. Most of these girls are runaways; are living in poverty; have aged-out of the foster care system; have been neglected; and are victims of physical and sexual abuse. The average age of entry into the sex trafficking industry is between 13 –14 years. Most of the time they are seduced by grown men, who offer them what they cannot and or did not receive at home – love, affection and attention.

Those kidnapped girls in Nigeria were stolen from their school. Most often, some of our girls are not even thinking about going to school because they have already been sucked into the violence and pathology of their neighborhoods. We do not think about those girls because they are voiceless. We do not notice them because they are invisible. This is more than likely because we don’t allow ourselves to realize that they exist – for if we did, then we’d have to admit culpbility. These young girls whom are forced to have sex from 20-40 times a day, have no one to post hashtags in their honor.
Human Trafficking which encompasses sexual, labor and domestic slavery, is a $9 billion dollar a year business.

Sex trafficking alone garners a pimp with an average of 4-6 girls, between $150,000 – $200,000 per girl annually (U.S. Justice Dept. National Center for Missing and Exploited Children). There are 20 jurisdictions in the U. S., where sex trafficking is prosperous and growing: Houston, El Paso. Los Angeles, Chicago, Charlotte, Miami, Las Vegas, New York, Long Island, New Orleans, Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, Phoenix, Richmond, San Diego, San Francisco, St. Louis, Tampa and Atlanta – which according to the Urban Institute, has one of the largest sex markets. By 2007, Atlanta’s forced sex slave market was valued at $290 million – a year. (Dept. of Justice).

I am most certain that in those 20 sex “hubs”, there are far more than 276 girls that are being sold into slavery daily. As a matter-of-fact, the United States is responsible for 83% of the sex trafficking/slavery trade worldwide. Of that 83%, 40% of the victims are black and 62% of the perpetrators are black (Bureau of Justice Statistics). According to Malika Saador Sar, “People sold for sex in this country are American children who are disproportionately black and brown. They are between the ages of 12 and 13 – middle school age.”

To help combat this ever growing industry, in March 2013, President Barack Obama signed legislation to fight modern-day slavery. The Trafficking Victims Protection Act – which although well-intentioned, is only the beginning of the fight that must become a “village” effort. To do this, we must turn our gaze inward. We can began to resist these heinous crimes against our girls by letting them know that we value them, that we both hear and see them, and ultimately, that we care. Yes, not only do we want Nigeria’s girls to be returned safely back to their families – #wewantourgirlstocomebackhometoo.

. . . And so it goes!

I have been guilty of several false-starts with beginning my blog. At the beginning of each writing session I would ask myself: “What will I say? Who’s going to want to read this? Will my verbal meanderings do anything to elevate, educate or entertain, and/or will my reflections be of any interest to anyone?” On far too many occasions, I began my writing process only to fall prey to my own inhibitions – which truth be told, were more likely my sometimes overwhelming, semi-acute task-driven moments of lethargy – sprinkled with a touch of procrastination.

Or maybe it was my desire to not sound like a raving lunatic about those topics for which I am very passionate about. Whatever the case, I have now grown into the space and understanding – which comes with being of a certain (ah-hem!) age – that it is no longer necessary to feel that just because I have something to say, it needs to be said! It’s so nice to attend a cultural, political or social event and hear someone make a comment that is superfluous, ignorant or downright stupid and not feel compelled to waste my energy by uttering a single solitary word. When I first experienced this liberating feeling, I knew that I had hit another milestone – a growth-spurt if you will, making my path to intellectual clarity and spiritual success, much less cluttered.

You see, I am a “Wild (Warrior) Woman in the Whirlwind”, settling into my second wind and loving it! While I am breezing through, whipping around and chasing away the dust tracks on my path, I have grown to understand and “trust that my life fits into a larger plan” and that I will now and always “live from design and not by condition”.
I am a writer, an academic and an artiste! I am an intelligent, beautiful and educated Black woman. For this reason alone, I am considered to be armed and extremely dangerous, simply because I have the power to educate generations to come from an African-Centered perspective. I affirm and share in the axiom of my warrior woman shero, Anna Julia Cooper, whom unapologetically specified that “When and Where I Enter, the Entire Race Enters With Me”, as she used her pen to contest the marginalization of Black women by Caucasian men, their women and unfortunately at times, even Black men, during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. I want to be just like Ms. Cooper when I grow up!

With my blogging, I look forward to sharing my musings on the intersections of race and gender, cultural influences, political shenanigans and all that’s in-between! Maybe I will even share with you some excerpts from the two novels I am presently working on. Yes, I know, writing two novels at one time might be a bit much – but that’s a Gemini affliction I have to live with – doing one thing at a time is never enough!

So, let’s get together real soon and make it a habit! I would love to have you join me on my brief excursions into the sublime. And when the spirit so moves you, please make sure that you leave a comment, I’d love to read your ruminations!

Bright Moments,
Zakiyyah Zai’mah
Zakiyyah@bydesignnotcondition.com