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It’s Autumn, and my hometown is on fire. #BlackenAsiaWithLove

It’s Autumn, and my hometown is on fire. [Theme song: When You Gonna Learn, by Jamiroquai]

Jay Kay sang: “Yeah, yeah, have you heard the news today?”

Me: Yeah, yeah, my hometown is on fire.

Protestors in downtown Louisville, my hometown.

My hometown is on fire. In March, SWAT-armed officers served a warrant, and an EMS worker ended up dead. The deceased was Black and poor, and lived in the poor Black part of town. The officers adhered to the codes of the ruling caste. The media covered the death matter-of-factly. The tag line is: “Breonna Taylor was an innocent person in her own home.” So, by extension, all the other victims were not innocent, and therefore deserved to die. Only Jesus’ death warrants defense…and outrage – according to the actions of the folks who James Baldwin called those who believe themselves to be white. So, Breonna, George Floyd, all of them…these were justifiable killings? Yeah, yeah, casualties of the race war where white supremacy has always had the whip.

My hometown is on fire. The mayor put the city on lockdown days ahead of the grand jury’s announcement, not Corona. Trucks block traffic now; windows were boarded up days ago. All to announce that (only) one of the shooters would be indicted, and on the lower end of charges. The officer was initially denounced and fired, and (only) now charged with “wanton, reckless endangerment.” None of the charges relate to Breonna’s death, so that’s exactly what the courts won’t be able to address.

Those who believe themselves t be white will defend their rights against these dead Black bodies

My hometown is on fire. Locals who believe themselves to be white char the memory of the victim, each victim, individually. For Breonna was not perfect, nor was Trayvon, nor George Floyd, nor Sandra Bland, nor countless others … all just human. Not even Amadou Diallo was a perfect-enough-victim for ‘those who believe themselves to be white’. Each family of each victim has had to fight the system individually, as if in a vacuum. Little attention to this incident was paid until the bodies mounted around the country. Everything changed when people of all races marched together, looters rioted and property was lost. Only then did “voters” take notice.

My hometown is on fire. The police have never been held accountable for such deaths. Apparently, the deceased liked bad boys, and was a victim of circumstance. White citizens – the so-called “voters”  – resist seeing the systemic causes to these deaths. Just a few weeks ago, after MONTHS of national outrage and protest, the police reached a 12-million-dollar settlement with Breonna Taylor’s family. Every Kentucky tax payer will pay for our collective neglect. My hometown held it down, made the world say her name.

My hometown is on fire. Say her name. “Say her name,” is now a moniker for another fallen Black body. Where whites see no systemic problem, there can be no systemic solutions. Please, “stop it going on.”

Protests in my hometown, Louisville, KY

Standing under the stars with you. #BlackenAsiaWithLove #

Standing under the stars with you.

This is the moment I’ve waited for for so long.

For so long I’ve longed to be with YOU.

To be with you, to just be here, standing underneath the stars is like heaven and earth in one.

It feels like heaven on earth, so softly touching your skin.

Touching your skin, feeling your breath against my face, there is nobody like you.

I LIKE you… a lot.

This is the moment I’ve waited for for so long.

You and I underneath the stars.

Our lives must be as big as the universe for us to have crossed paths.

I can’t believe that I crossed paths with the YOU.

I want to cross your path every single day from now on.

From now on, I want to be with you.

This is the moment I’ve waited for for so long.

I have waited an eternity to see the stars with you.

To see the stars with you feels like the Earth, the Sun, the moon AND all the planets aligning.

The planets must be aligned to night as good as I’m feeling.

I’m feeling good, with every twinkle our lives become more crisscrossed and intertwined.

Crisscrossed and intertwined so much a mobile phone can’t capture this moment.

Please, be here, now, I beg you.

Dear Black People. #BlackAsianWithLove

Dear Black People:

Remember, whiteness has been largely invisible to MANY folks for MANY generations. While one Corona-filled year can make a dent in it, these changes will hurt and will take time. For example, imagine waking up one day, seeing another Black body drop on the streets at the hands of the police, and you see the American president making mockery of it. Stereotypical “rednecks” are breaking open cans of (cheap) beer to celebrate the deaths and you suddenly realize that this – none of this – would NEVER happen to you because of the color of your skin, because your skin is white. That’s got a be an earth-shattering realization.

Dear Black people, can you remember learning something that totally shattered your world view? That’s what’s happening to the wider, whiter world right now. Like any humans, some embrace change, others retreat in defeat and plot retaliation, for Mr. Backlash is NEVER EVER late.

Dear Black people, take a deep breath. Step back and look at the arch of history. It’s a sheer miracle that you’re even here, that your ancestors survived (I’ll spare you the litany of atrocities). History shows you that these flaring moments are fleeting, that in fact, it gets better. So, keep your head to the sky! Strap up your boots, march for justice, speak up, fight for peace, raise your voices in solidarity with peace-loving people everywhere of every shape, size and color. Do these things at your own pace, in your own way, and in your own space, for every contribution towards world peace is needed. Be the change.

For the Trayvons, Since Blackface is a weapon #BlackenAsiaWithLove

2 April 2012 Hanoi

 

The real Blackface that’s the weapon is the minstrel show,
The Blackface that labeled me out,

Showing people a side of me never seen

But projected onto me,

Such that when so many see my own Blackface,

They see that other

They see that other one.

The one told to them over their kitchen tables.

The one sold to them at the movie show –

Hoop dreams

Baller creams

Holla dolla-dolla bill, y’all.

‘Cause we also know that there are real Black faces

That see those minstrel black faces

Staring them back in the face,

So blinded by the light that they cannot see their own.

 

That’s one side of Trayvon’s story-

Then we all know how precious of a story this really is

That a mother lost her darling son

That a grandmother lost the one who used to babysit for the other gran’kids

That the little cousins are still unclear about where that dear boy is.

 

Blackface means that as soon as your voice starts to drop

As soon as that fuzzy hair starts to sprout all over

As soon as your knock knees start to look bold

You’re no longer a kid

Your childhood is lost

And you must learn to act in ways that would make most sane adults stumble

You learn how not to offend white people

How to speak in a soft voice

Or perish

How to walk slowly, with an unassuming gate

Lest you appear as a threat

With the knowledge that any of these threatened folks can annihilate you

Wipe you from this earth

Where only a generation or two ago

Men hanged like tree-ripened fruit

Aged on a rope in an instant

From kid prankster

To adult menace in a matter of moments

We’ve all seen that photo of one of America’s last lynchings

Not nearly the first

Not nearly the haste, carnage and human waste that made people cease.

 

In 1930, not in anywhere near the deep south

Not from one of our southern willows that sway

But in the mid-west

In Indiana, less than a 150 miles from where Michael Jackson was born

And less than 30 years before he came to be,

So that years later when he sings about hate in our multicultural hearts

Or smashes a window in the video

Enraged with anger

Mad from hypocrisy

The sort that we all know all too well

The gap between the promise and dream.

The reality versus the verses etched all around the capital,

Versus the slave hands that laid those very stones.

The women folk whose very gender made them slaves

And the Black women whose faces made them chattel –

But exploitation of a sexual kind

Yes, we all know too well

What a Blackface can do

How a Blackface can scare you

Even when it’s yours.

So, we now the rage Michael felt,

The hate he seemed to have fought though lost,

Internalized but never giving up.

Yet he was born into a world that hated Blackfaces

Where his was a real threat,

Lest he learn to sing and dance.

The hate is real life minstrelsy.

 

It’s that same song and dance that we as boys learn to perform

And I am tired of dancing

Trying to make nice when people approach me as cold as ice

Smiling and trying to behave

While all their body language tells me that they are scared to death of me

And that they see my Blackface as chilling.

We all know that all the Trayvons in this place

Learn from an age too early to have to teach kids such harsh cruelties of life

That by 13, he could be nearly 6 feet tall and that factor alone endangers his life

Were he to play sports and his body develop.

He would stand no chance of being treated like anything other than a gladiator.

So it’s even more ironic that Trayvon was a scrawny boy they called “Slim”

Seems there’s no real way to win

Though I think that if we as a people can get through this

If we as a nation can have this conversation

The one mothers like Trayvon’s have with their sons

For we all know how people react to Black

 

CONned by CONfederates #BlackenAsiaWithLove

I come from a town named after the French king who supported America’s independence struggle from Great Britain. A large statue of him sits in front of our old courthouse, across from the old town hall. The fleur-de-lis covering his robe was consequently adopted as the symbol of my city, as well as New Orleans and several other municipalities around our nation. I am from a county named after a slaveholding ‘founding father’, the nation’s third president, who was the governor of the Virginia territory that was split then to eventually create my ole Kentucky home.

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Thomas Jefferson drafted the Declaration of Independence at the same time as he was a prominent slave-owner. Our nation fought for nearly two centuries to (openly) recognize the long-term relationship Jefferson had with a teenage slave. Contemporary CONfederates & other zealots fought against recognizing their descendants.

Dixie Highway is one of the largest roads crisscrossing my city, and it’s even the best way to get to Fort Knox, where our nation used to hold its gold. There are other CONfederate activists who are venerated locally in bronze. I never had to “wish I was in Dixie.”I was born there.

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Rosa Parks statue in downtown Montgomery, AL

Although the Sons of CONfederate Veterans resisted, my parents’ alma mater moved a 70-foot-tall CONfederate monument off its campus and out of the city. It wasn’t destroyed, but perhaps, hopefully, better contextualized.

There are umpteen items in my hometown named after President Zachary Taylor who was born into a prominent plantation-owning family. He held slaves during his short-lived term and danced all around the issue of slavery with his CONfederate chums.

Where my grandparents are from in Alabama, the Black high school is named after a CONfederate war general. Right now, the first white house of the CONfederacy sits smack in the middle of the seat of city, county, and state government.

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“First White House of the Confederacy,” Montgomery, AL 2013.

History needs to be re-written to include all the people that made the history.

Mobile-impaired drivers. #BlackenAsiaWithLove

Mobile-impaired drivers.

 

So, try to imagine a man driving a motorbike, a 5-year-old standing on the tiny platform between him and the handlebars, a tall toddler standing behind him on the seat, clinging round his neck, and a woman sitting side-saddle behind the baby. Both adults are bent over scrolling on the phone. In the middle of traffic. I see this every day, but a few days back, I saw a toddler playing peek-a-boo with his dad while he was driving. Interestingly, as he struggled to move the baby’s hands away, the man never shifted his eyes away from his phone.

 

Between the two adults described above, nobody had one good eye on the road. Said plainly, the man was impaired; he drove with one eye, one hand.  Look around, so many are. All I could do was laugh. I didn’t find the spectacle funny. I chuckled to myself, mostly about my own helplessness. I feel like there’s nothing I can do about the risk they face, or the danger they place on others. Their kids are at a severe disadvantage, being precociously exposed to such mindlessness. Many of the motorists around here are similarly disabled. It’s a common affliction.

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What if the baby decides it’s not time to stop peek-a-boo, as babies do, despite the man using his hand to wave him away in frustration? What if they hit a bump – because he wasn’t looking – and either child slipped? Or, what if some driver is speeds towards you in the exact same scenario? Or, what if either dropped their phone? We know that there is a strong impulse to reach for a falling object – even in traffic. Imagine dropping something that holds great value for you. Would instinct kick in? Could it be worse now since heavy social media usage paves neural pathways of impulsive behaviours?

 

 As I move around on the streets, it’s as if most people have only one hand and one eye on the road. It’s nothing to see someone driving a motorcycle holding their phones to their ear, enthralled in conversation, just one hand guiding their vehicle through torrid traffic and very bumpy roads. Potholes and sewage covers, for example, are regularly too deep to tackle with two wheels, so drivers usually swiftly go around. A quick swerve. What’s more, it’s the normal thing to carry one’s entire family along on these adventure rides. Yet, even with two-to-three generations in tow, I’ve seen drivers driving around with their phone in one hand, dialing, texting or scrolling, lifted so they could see it.

 

I can count on one hand the number of moto-taxi drivers I’ve had with any hands-free brace to hold the phone as it displays our route. Some, at least, leave their devices in their pockets, and only check-in at stoplights. (I should start mentioning this in my ratings – not just stars.)

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Devices? Mobile phones sold in this part of the world have two SIM card slots, but it’s also quite common to see people jostling two phones at a time. Perhaps one for private use, and the other professional, and so forth. It suggests a deeply entrenched mobile phone culture here, now.

 

In any public space, on any form of transportation, no matter what’s going on, you can look in any given direction and see most people glued to their phones. Alone, with friends, families, co-workers all are online. Face-to-face is never enough. The most distressing is seeing adults snub kids for their phones – or worse get them hooked early and stuff device in their hands, too. What’s a kid supposed to think if mommy and daddy drive while mobile impaired? Yes, kids, it’s not gone unnoticed that parents are spending more time with their phones than their own kids. Even during a commute. Ah, riding with my folks used to be such good quality time.

 

Smartphones are powerful. So, it comes to no surprise that folks would take to squeezing in every free moment to scroll through social media. If folks aren’t handling it directly, their phones are sitting right there in front of them, the perfect escape for even a moment’s silence, uncertainty, doubt, loneliness, longing, or even curiosity. The mobile provides it all. It has disabled our ability to focus, even when operating heavy machinery.

 

Why not take time during that long drive to pick and jive with friends on the net? What’s a matter with liking a few of my friends’ Facebook posts at the traffic light? It’s not like my kids have anything interesting to say. I can respond to a few work messages by the time I get to where I’m going; who cares if I slow-up traffic. Oh, let me stop right here, in the middle of the road, to finish this text. This has to be done now; I am unable to refuse. While cruising along, why not just let my friends know that I’m just a few minutes away (even if I’ve already shared my live locations and texted them just as I set off on my way).

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Though cognitively we know that we tend to overestimate the things that we can divide our attention between. Vehicles are keenly designed to allow drivers to focus on the road ahead, having a forward-facing display and any needed amenity at one’s fingertips. On two wheels, acceleration and brakes, blinkers and even widely used horns are all there at drivers’ fingertips. Cars compete for the easiest to reach radio, seat, and climate controls. In my last car, I could even do all these things and more from my steering wheel. Yet here, I even seen the biggest, most fully equipped cars being driven around by mobile disabled drivers. These brand-spanking new vehicles come with hands-free technology, but it’s a miss to me as to why there’s no widespread usage of these. Plus, no moto-makers have designed these two-wheelers for one-handed, one-eyed driving.

 

Black In Sanity #BlackenAsiaWithLove

One of the most intriguing aspects of being black today is sanity.

How can an individual living in such desperate times exist alongside insane denial of said existence?

How does one remain sane in an insane world?

One that denies we matter?

 

 

At the start of my new school in the second grade, my new teacher gave me a nickname.

No one can say your name, she explained, so she’d call me by my initials, DK.

And that’s how things remained for years.

I grew to love that teacher and my classmates, many of whom studied with me until graduation 11 years later.

Needless to say, our small class got to know one another really well.

It’s that knowing of others that I draw upon now to stay sane.

See, I know white people.

I’ve grown up in a diverse world, one where all our differences were brought to light and respected.

I learned that my teacher – then a middle-aged, middle-class white woman- had marched alongside Dr. King in all his major marches for his struggle for Civil Rights.

I knew Jewish kids who I learned were seen as outsiders like me.

I learned that Catholics were marginalized in our city, despite being the largest health care providers.

I learned that the poor white kids where, too, regarded as others.

I saw that not all the black kids could escape.

I learned that despite the school’s efforts at integration, life would segregate us then and now.

As soon as the last bell rang, race and class separated us once again.

We all went to our respective neighbourhoods,

And have largely remained in our respective places as adults.

Now, I as an adult, I am ‘diversity’.

 

I accepted that you can never judge a book by its cover.

See, in my state, the rural areas are generally considered backwards- and this is taught to us city kids as a fact.

We even had a biology teacher in high school who told us that she’d taught in the hills of Kentucky and the people were in fact born stupid…damaged by oxygen deprivation.

I listened to what was said about ‘them’

But what I heard was the same shit that had been said about us.

No, it didn’t destroy my ability to trust white people,

But it did give me pause for thought:

How is it that ‘they’ could arrive at respect for my people, but then turn around and diss others who are struggling?

This was all just one more piece of the puzzle I was putting together to help me understand society’s cruelty towards me as a kid.

Why did I grow up in total fear of how strangers would react to me?

It’s like a sixth sense that I honed and developed throughout my life- this is one of the many benefits of being a minority.

But tis sixth sense suggests that we live in a world that is largely unsafe for people like me.

That’s the burden I’d like to ease for those who come after me.

I want to develop the implicit assumption that Black Lives Matter.

Unquestionably, unapologetically and unconditionally.

Blackness is no excuse, nor whiteness.

Racism erodes empathy.

That’s insane.

 

 

Watching while Black. #BlackAsiaWithLove

One of the most surprising conversations to have emerged from the BLM protests is representation. On the news outlets I follow in my liberal bubble, items around the protestors’ demands led to implicit bias, and the media cited as a primary arena for such instruction. Chomsky, as we all know from his Propaganda model, contends that it’s media’s “function to amuse, entertain, and inform, and to inculcate individuals with the values, beliefs, and codes of behavior that will integrate them into the institutional structures of the larger society.” Consent to white supremacy is what’s being manufactured here. Whether the nightly news or the entertainment, deconstructionists have long since called out the white supremacist propaganda. We know that the propaganda is a comprehensive representation of the dominant hegemony, what bell hooks describes as the white supremacist, capitalist, patriarchy.

Ain’t your momma on the pancake box?

Mammy-jemimaAunt Jemima, gone! Uncle Ben! Gone with the Wind, swept away! Representation matters. These iconic images survived an era when white supremacy was on parade – literally- the height the K.K. Klan marches and minstrelsy. We know NOW that these images were based on racist stereotypes. And thankfully that analysis has extended into the modern day: They canceled Cops, and are going after entire franchises of cop dramas that have busily perpetuated racist propaganda.

These TV shows are all chock full of Black criminality, Black Best Friends and white saviors! And they’re lovely. Consider the Law and Order franchise, which is comprised of over half a dozen different shows, including the longest-running cop drama ever, L&O Special Victims Unit – sex crimes! Activists writers and cultural critics are popping up everywhere discussing this mess. Jim and Jane Crow must be shaking in their boots.

What’s interesting, and feels unique about this particular moment is the earnest effort with which emotions are confronted. This includes terror and rage. The grief with which Black people watch reels of Black bodies falling is horrendous. We’re over a decade into massive social media saturation, so it’s safe to say, you can see a nigger die daily – looped if you like.  As Evelyn From the Internets said, we need a day off from this trauma: I’m calling in ‘black’.

Then there’s rage. Of course, it’s enraging to see no justice sought or found in the majority of these cases. What’s worse, we’re not talking about actual criminals that the law already outlaws- no one has forgotten about gang violence, like that 15-year-old Chicago girl in who caught a stray bullet in her back just days after returning from the White House where she’d performed at Obama’s second inauguration. Yes, we wept as we watched that tragic story of Hadiya Pendleton.

Rhythm-blues

Yet, there’s a particular sting around “justified homicide,” by law enforcement officers. Who can we turn to for lawn enforcement? Who secures our justice? Not the United States! We’ve watched that for decades throughout many evolutions of media technology. We have Black and white photos of ET’s brutalized young body in 55. We see Rosa Parks sitting in a segregated bus that December. We have newsreels of over a decade long of different acts of civil disobedience that culminated in what we call the Civil Rights Movement. We watched Bloody Sunday in Selma, live, in Black and White TV.

We watched Rodney King get beat down by a mob of LAPD! We watched the trial and the slurs and the acquittal of his killers. So, we watched the riots a year after the police beating, and we watched as justice yet again slipped away – from Black people.

Now, in the age of social media, we can watch a live-streamed murder – such as that of Philando Castile who was shot by a cop within seven seconds of informing the cop he was legally carrying a gun! Thanks to many citizen-journalists, we see all of it, every excruciating second – each second where a sense of humanity might have intervened.

Have you taken the Implicit Bias test yet?

We’re now talking about the implications of implicit bias. In health, Ms. Corona showed us all the biases not only in treatment, but also in systemic differences in housing that impact wealth, education and, sadly health. Red Lining is real. And Corona has shown that those biases lead to our morbidity.

In corporate America, if you have a Black sounding name on your resume, you’re 50% less likely to get a callback – fact! And if you get the job, you have to deal with micro-aggressions.

From Spectacle to Spectacular

Social media has made the most mundane spectacles of public life spectacular through the lens of racism. There’s a whole hashtag, #LivingWhileBlack- that will show white people calling the police on Black people just for being ‘suspicious’ and making them ‘uncomfortable’. We know that white discomfort has led to many deaths at the hands of the police because we’ve heard the 9-11 calls, too. But, now, we can also see BBQBecky, PoolPatrolPaul, PermitPatty,  HotelEarl call the police. We see a white woman in a bodega charge a 14-year old Black boy with sexual assault because his backpack swiped against her. We see that white woman calling the police on a little black girl selling bottled water in front of their apartment complex on a hot sunny day. There are loads, loads more of such incidents, now caught on camera by citizen-journalists. Under these conditions, Black sanity is a spectacular feat!

Recently, we watched that white woman in Central Park threaten to call the police and tell them a “Black man in threatening her,” and moments later, because the brother stayed calm enough to record the spectacle on his phone, we see her feign terror on the phone to the emergency services. She nearly strangles her newly adopted dog with the leash the birdwatcher had asked her to use in the first place. She was readily prepared to weaponize her white tears in a situation that she knew could end in this Black man’s death! She knew she existed in a system that would support her, yet the wider/whiter masses either refused to believe that any of this was happening, despite our consistent, collective protestations. So, here we are, locked in a battle of wills: Will the world finally affirm that BLM?

Rioting coverage of Week 1: I watched Faux News for Six Full minutes. #BlackAsiaWithLove

I watched Fox News today.

For 6 full minutes.

They had a panel of 3 cops to discuss the current unrest…or so it seemed.

Of course, a token negro in uniform was amongst them.

“Defund the police” is the headline of this comical sketch.

That’s not the actual proposition; proponents promote funding “public safety” measures.

But shutting down the police is all the sly Fox heard, and

Cunningly called on these cops to comment upon THAT, only.

 

The first white cop went off: “We’re here for business owners and hard-working people.”

He didn’t address the threat to Black life, espcially cops’ roots and roles in terrorism.

The host nods knowingly, and they summarily reduce all this unrest to law-n-order.

No mention of the brutality of cops.

No discussion of their pattern.

 

Predictably, the other white cop gave a worst-case scenario about Domestic violence.

What would citizens do without cops?

He says this as if cops have some awesome reputation of domestic intervention.

Also, I’m thinking: But…

Wasn’t that black chick just killed in Texas last year,

Inside her own house,

In response to a neighbor calling the police for care one night.

The neighbor hadn’t even called 9-1-1, but rang the non-emergency number, and

They still came in blazing as they are wont to do in Black households.

 

“I just wanted them to check on her…

Her front door was open… it was late…

So, I was concerned,” the neighbor later says matter-of-factly on the nightly news.

 

Atatiana Jefferson was a law-abiding citizen,
Playing video games with her 8-year-old nephew.

She got shot dead.

Check.

Black people cannot call the police.

Check.

Not even a concerned citizen.

Check.

 

Check this: In my hometown, Breonna Taylor was also a so-called law-abiding citizen.

Not only was Breonna law-abiding, but she was a medical worker –

Essential during a global pandemic!

But, she was Black.

She was shot to death in her own house,

Moments after the police arrived.

Fox don’t talk about none of this.

They go on with the implicit assumption that

Either Black people are not law-abiding,

Or, Black citizens never need the police.

“Cops need to be more sensitive, sure…” the other white cop says, then adds 12 butts!

He looks like an ass.

 

This whole faux news channel reduces today’s protests to rioting and looting, law-n-order.

They have met every effort at Black liberation with the same hostility.

Though openly devoted to non-violence,

Those pundits called the good Reverend Dr. King a “radical,” an “outside agitator,” and

Much, much worse!

When we peacefully took a knee just a few years back for the same cause,

These same pundits were quick to diss us,

Dissed Beyoncé for taking over the Superbowl in Black Power fashion!

Dissed Nike for sighing Collin Kaepernick – posting videos of them burning their own Nike gear.

They diss every Black person killed by the police as “disobedient” and “non-compliant.”

They consistently diss our resistance as unpatriotic – the oldest race card,

Because for them, racism is a game.

As if they didn’t twist their Bible to say slaves had to be loyal to their masters.

As if our efforts to breathe life into the Constitution weren’t patriotic!

As if Crispus Attucks wasn’t the first American to die for Independence!

As if this weren’t some strange and rotten fruit!

These pundits said the same about Martin Luther King, the FBI’s “an enemy of the state.”

They said all of this, of course, until he was martyred.

Then eventually, they called him a hero.

Now, even this faux news channel quotes Dr. King regularly.

Cleverly, Martin Luther da King gets pulled out of the Fox’s hat at the sign of any racial trouble!

 

The token negro cop gets asked the token question:

He’s asked to speak on behalf of all Black people.

Perform for your master, [N-word]!

Luckily, this man changes the narrative from dissing these hasty solutions to

Talking about real, systemic change to a systemic problem.

It’s not even clear that the other guests command this level of vocabulary, keeping it so simple.

The other cops were set up to denounce this solution, and

They were neither asked, nor chose to address any single way of improving policing.

All responsibility is implicitly shifted to individual citizens:

‘Policing is fine, Black people just don’t act right!’

I wish they’d just gon’head and say it!

Luckily, this Black man is neither stepping nor fetching their white supremacy for them today.

Not today, Satan!

 

Again, the faux media pundit circles back to defunding the po-po.

At present, this is only the legislative solution presented by any lawmaker thus far.

Weeks later, that message emanating from Minneapolis had spread,

Even to Congress, although

Aunty Maxine had already reclaimed her time on this one.

 

Predictably, this incites the white cop to repeat his singular talking point like a quacking duck:

“We’re here for business owners and hard-working people,” again, in THAT order.

‘We’re not to be called upon as citizens’, as Toni Morrison said after 9-11.

Check

Fox then seamlessly shifts back to “Agent Orange’s” economic talking points.

Cut to commercial.

 

After the ads, 45 comes back railing about saving Wall Street.

The faux host asks rhetorically if this will be “the greatest economic comeback ever!”

It’s like they can only ever speak in superlatives.

Finally, the host is optimistic in otherwise dreary times.

God bless America, and F everybody else!

I really wish they’d just gon’head and say it!

They gon’ be alright.

Checkmate.

Dear Media: Do BLM?

Media.

 

By now, we’ve all seen all 8 minutes and 46 seconds of

A Minneapolis officer using his full-body weight

To press his knee on a handcuffed Black man against the ground.

Several cops stood around, rather calmly shooing bystanders away.

With the cop’s knee on his neck, we watch a grown man cry out for his momma,

Which some have said showed the man was already crossing over to the other side to see her.

 

The killer cop, the one pressing his knee on Floyd’s neck, was training the other cops.

These junior officers were just days on the job, so

It’s safe to assume the head officers was showing off his skills:

He may have thought that he was showing the rookies how to put down a n*gger!

He actually showed them how to perform a. Modern day lynching.

 

The Minneapolis mayor didn’t bother watching the video until Mr. Floyd died.

Da mayor’d been told about the incident while the man lay dying in the hospital and

The murderous cops roamed free.

This is what’s carefully declared in a public radio interview.

Da mayor can’t be fake in the face of this very disarming journalist, who is also white.

There is absolutely no anger in the journalist’s voice.

 

Da mayor was animate that this was a pattern, when

The journalist disarmingly confronted him with statements by local Black leaders who’ve told Da mayor the city would burn if the cops’ behavior continued unabated.

Oh, now Da mayor wants to separate himself from 45!

45 is calling for complete suppression,

Even bullying governors and mayors into said suppression.

Folks in his flock are breaking ranks, denouncing his deployment of the military against Americans.

Social media rated 45’s words incendiary.

Facebook employees even staged a walk-out!

George Wallace couldn’t tweet in those days!

Yet, then and now, all your silence is complicity.

Silence = Death!

 

The journalist presses on: You were warned.

Da mayor conceded: He’d ignored explicit, non-violent warnings, neglected evident signs.

Chronic poverty kills.

Police murders maim families.

Racist stereotypes murder souls, and

Breaks the social contract.

The journalist asks Da mayor if he felt any responsibility for the riots.

Again, there is absolutely no emotion at all in the journalist’s voice.

He asks flatly, fumbling through his words, just as he always does.

He simply applies the critical questions to this issue, just as he has countless other topics.

This has gone on for years.

They’ve covered this issue before, but not like this.

Are they only covering it now because of the horrific video of Mr. Floyd’s murder?

Now, they want to uncover the truth that’s been staring them in the face all these years.

 

We watched Rodney King get beat, and

We waited a year for the trial on mediocre charges, and

We rioted when the officers who beat him were set as free as Emmet Till’s killers!

NOW, now, now THEY wanna stop the violence!

Where were you back when?

Even this liberal journalist can’t claim to have raised the alarm before today.

These murders eerily echo one another.

Diallo-41-shots

Amadou Diallo was at his front door.

There are no videos of the 1999 incident.

No 9-11 calls to replay.

Just giant headlines: 41 shots!

 

We DO even have surveillance footage of the 2014 murder of 12-year-old Tamir Rice,

Shot playing in a park.

The surveillance video is lengthy, and

From the video we can see from his movement and stature.

He’s playing with what we now know was a toy gun, and

On the 9-11 call, we hear the caller calmly explain:

Probably a juvenile, you know.

“The guy keeps pulling it out of his pants…is probably fake, but you know what? It’s scaring the sh*t outta me”

“He’s sitting on a swing right now, but he’s pulling it in and out of his pants and pointing it at people… He’s probably a juvenile, you know?”

This (white) man can’t even talk to a (Black) kid.

 

The dispatcher fails to announce ANY of these details, save for:

‘He’s in the park by the youth center…’

Apparently, that was all they needed to hear: Black guy, gun.

Recall Tamir was twelve, Black, brandishing a toy gun in the kids’ area of a city park.

We see cops rush up on him in the park and shoot Tamir dead within seconds.

In dispatch recording after the incident, when officers are standing just feet away from Tamir’s body, they say: “Shots fired. Male down. Black Male. Probably 20.”

Later officers claimed to have commanded Tamir to show his hands in those split seconds.

Two officers responding to a routine, white citizen’s call about a potential Black threat.

But we know it’s BEEN going on since emancipation.

‘Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck.’

strange-fruit

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