history's utility?

Since Amaretto, coerced us to take it back oh and please click on her link-i must say Bellini provided some sage advice back then... I found myself venturing back to my collegiate days. Sophmore year- I think. Sitting in my political sci class, biding my time, until the Professor threw this into the universe...

If we follow the trends of global hegemony, will the US still be the premiere power in your golden years?

scrreeecchh...stop the presses! whoa sally!...
come again

Now the diehard history maven in me found this utterly intriguing. For the sake of history, my professor was on to something. The realist in me had to concede to the logic of the argument. However, the American in me had to give her the side eye whatchya talkin' about Willis

And then to add insult to injury, I just read this. And one must reckon the status quo must cease to exist. But says who? And under whose timetable? A snapshot of friends my age will reveal, since embarking on our professional careers, none of us have remained with the same employer for 5 years. Fcku social security and a pension, it's up to 401K or 403B, savings, IRAs, insurance policies, and we can't forget about bonds either to the chagrin of Ms. Philly. And somebody pray for the millenials -- they're expected to live as centennials.

And everyone says China is coming for our asses. The Chinese have made inroads in Africa, South America... should we be scared? naw we're trading partners right? I put 20 on the Russians first - imo. And yet Frederick Douglass hit the bullseye when he uttered the words "power concedes nothing without demand" i think that's the phrase verbatim. But we should be alright 'cuz Economics 201 suggests trade is a deterrent to war. i sure hope so

Was my college professor on to something or was she just pushing for some intellectual vigor. It makes you wonder?...

I know one thing for sure should we make it through this economic meltdown intact - you can't tell me nothing! cue Kanyeeze


cheers,

Bellini

P.S. please make sure ya pray for him!

history in the making....

Tuesday mid-day during the rainy day, as I munched on corn on the cob for lunch --
I found myself moved by this...

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Are You Ready For This?

January 20, 2009: I know I cursed Courvoisier out in my mind fifty-eleven times! I was trying to smile at her, but in my mind I was calling her everything but a chile of God. I mean if she hadn’t come down from Philly I would have been at home watching the day’s events like I planned under a blanket. Instead I was standing in a line with hundreds of people. Crushed up against a gate. Separated from half the folks I came with. Cold. And tired of waiting to move forward.

Even now, a week later I can’t believe I was part of the nearly two million folks who made it down there that day. Before when asked if I was going down there, my response was “I ain’t crazy!” But there I was part of the number. When we knew we’d need transportation: we got our transit fare early. When we knew it was going to be cold: we put on our layers. When we knew we would get hungry: we packed sandwiches. But even with all this preparation I don’t think we were truly ready to be a part of something…a movement.

January 20, 2009: I know I cursed Rum Punch out in my mind fifty-eleven times! I was trying to smile at her, but in my mind I was calling her everything but a chile of God. I mean they had told us that we couldn’t get to the mall. So basically it was a wrap. We weren’t crossing the gate. Half our group had made it through and where they were now, we didn’t know. It was a hopeless situation. Courvoisier thinking her toes are going to be amputated and Rum Punch wants us to walk to where? Go around what? I don’t think so!

And even now, a week later I can’t believe that I was part of the nearly two million folks who made it down there who were counted as witnesses to history. “I ain’t crazy!” was what I said, yet I was the one who was running down the street when I could finally see the monument. The jumbo screens. And the millions of people watching and waiting for a new era to be ushered in. It was amazing ya’ll! To see millions of people for miles, cheering together, breathing in unison, hoping for a more perfect union. I’d never experienced that before. It was worth the cold, confusion and desperation!

January 20, 2009: I know I cursed Mayor Fenty and his band of cops about fifty-eleven times! Had they not thought about how two million people who were ready to leave were going to do so? Congestion. Some people had knocked down a barrier fence so that we could get out of there. A family with a wheelchair bound woman needed help lifting her over the bottom of the gate. Parents yelled to watch out for their child in the stroller. After a historic moment centuries in the making folks forgot how to be patient, helpful or even civil. But I understood it. It didn’t make sense. A cop lost his cool as the crowd flowed towards him because a cop car needed to pass through the sea of people. We were part of a slow moving current that flowed up 18th street, all the side streets were blocked. The entrances to all the open metro stations teemed with people. We wondered how the platforms below ground looked. Earlier we heard someone was hit by a train.

The only thing we could do was to walk it out. Over private property. Security guards yelled for people to get off the grass-did they not understand no order is possible in chaos? Save your breath! The three of us hopped over cement barriers. Trampled bushes. At some point no space was off bounds. All we could do was wonder why there was no clear exit strategy. After walking for an hour and a half the crowd started to thin out and we finally able to catch a cab uptown back to our car. It was shocking to go from being unable to move to freely maneuvering the city. Downtown had been shut down but in uptown, business continued as usual, it was almost unaffected by the change we had just witnessed. The three of us ended up going to a restaurant in Maryland where others laughed, dined and watched the inaugural parade on television. We ate, excited yet exhausted.

January 20, 2009: I know I that thanked Courvoisier and Rum Punch fifty-eleven times in my mind for making me go. I was not ready for the day. The cold, the people, the foolishness but it was well worth the experience. And now I can say: Yes I was there. Are you ready to hear my story? To be able to do that, is priceless!

See You In Seven

There's Something About This Moment

At the time that I am writing this, I am debating about braving both the cold and the crowds to go downtown to watch a moment in history that few would have believed was possible even a mere decade ago. I will admit that I wasn’t a believer. Who was this dude from Chicago? When others said “Yes We Can” I wondered if they still lived in the America that I lived in. The America that allowed us to be lynched, the one where Emmitt Till was brutally murdered, the country that still enslaved us as sharecroppers, in it's factories and as surrogate mommas to it's children. But it seems that this country was ready for something different, finally. Mr. Obama was the right person at the right moment. Yet, I am curious about what will be written on the next pages of history after this day. Mr. Obama is just a man who has a formidable task ahead. I pray that the American public gives him a realistic chance. He doesn’t have a magic wand that will make it all better. He doesn't have the ability to make everyone happy. But he does speak of hope that people can believe in. And after the years that we’ve had, so many people are finally hopeful and it’s a great thing to witness. There is something about this moment ya’ll. What do we do now that our hopes and prayers birthed a dream realized?




I guess just stand back in amazed disbelief...

See You In Seven

when I was 6...

"So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?"

--President-Elect Barack Obama, Grant Park, November 4, 2008


On Tuesday, I spent the day with my 6-year old niece. Like our new first-second (?) daughter, she's unbelievably cute. She's super smart and has a wisdom beyond her years. When you look in her eyes you see joy, inquisitiveness and a playful spirit.

My niece was out of school on Tuesday because the local school system was closed for business. The powers that be claimed that because of the heightened "enthusiasm" surrounding the election, children should stay home since many schools double as polling places. While I'm sure some parents grumbled at having to find childcare on such short notice, my niece was elated.

She came home on Monday bouncing off the walls, proclaiming that there was no school tomorrow. When I asked her why she replied, "cause it's election day!"

MJ -- Who is the president?
Niecey -- George Washington.....Carver
MJ -- Uhhh, no. George Bush but he's forgettable. Who do we want to be president?
Niecey -- Arack Obama!
MJ -- Barack Obama! Go girl go girl go girl!

So the next morning, my niece and I were up bright and early. I had signed up to volunteer with the Obama campaign in Georgia and decided to take her along with me. As we pulled up to the local Democratic headquarters, I felt excited and cautiously optimistic. We walked up to the front desk and offered ourselves for whatever task needed to be done. The woman smiled and sent us out front to wave Obama signs along the sidewalk.

I grabbed a sign and passed one to my niece who looked at my skeptically. But once we stepped out front she became the biggest cheerleader. We took pictures with our signs and posed in front of a lifesize Arack Obama. She caught on quickly...FIRED UP! READY TO GO! FIRED UP! READY TO GO! She was a trooper for about 30 minutes before she asked, "can I play games on your cellphone?" At that point I knew it was time to go.

Now, a day after the morning after, as I talk to my friends, family members, co-workers, and random strangers on the street about how "we did it," I am still in quiet shock and ecstatic on the inside. I am overwhelmed with happiness for my grandmother, who did not have the opportunity to graduate from high school because she was married with children by the time she was 16. I am elated for my mother, who saw a cross burned on her aunt's front lawn when she was a little girl. But what moves me the most is my niece and her Obama experience. How wonderful it is that she got to participate in this election. That she can look back at that photo of her holding an Obama sign over her head at age 6 and say to her grandkids, I was there! That she got to witness Obama's resounding victory over McCain when folks thought it couldn't be done. And most of all that she gets to start her racial victories, her "how we got over" stories with Barack, her "I remember when the first black president was elected" story at the age of 6. Her forever gon be so fun!

Walk Like A Man

The other day whilst my granny was making a tall pitcher of lemonade and the bad news of the day was blaring in the background, I said to her, “Remember when men took care of their families.”

“Uh huh,” she said.
“What happened,” I asked.
“These men getting sorrier and sorrier,” she said matter of factly.

Hmmm…A simple answer to a complex question that is debated in the academic world, the blogsphere, and black folks’ living rooms across the land. It’s the question in the front of our minds and on the tip of our tongues: what happened to us? What happened to our Black men?

The truth is people like revisionist history. Christopher Columbus discovered America. Slavery really wasn’t that bad. The trail of tears was just a little walk. The Japanese internment camp was like a summer retreat. And apparently before crack, the Vietnam War and the corrupt welfare system Black men were the shit. And now they ain’t shit. Or that is what so many people think, say, breathe and live on a daily basis.

When we get past the finger pointing, or the blaming the white man, or the educated explanation of the emasculation of black men, or the ills of integration, I think it’s safe to admit that something happened in our community. A breakdown happened. A change in values happened. A culture change happened. We can discuss the reasons ad nauseum, but what I find interesting is that when people think back on the Black community, the days before integration (and even shortly after) there seems to have been a lot of good there. People reminisce about men coming home to their families, men being a constant presence in the community, men teaching their sons how to be men.

This is not to say that there was no bad. This is not to say that men didn’t abandon their families, or beat their wives, or have affairs, or impregnate women before vows and wedding bands were exchanged, or gamble the rent money, but this is to say that it seems that some core values have eroded. It's like we lost some pieces along the way to a better life. I know I’m not the only one who loves an older black man, a church going, amen saying, Deacon Johnson who wears a fresh suit and a brim hat tilted to the side, who nods his head and smiles at you and says, “how you doin’ sweetie,” as he holds the door open or helps you with your package. I wonder what will happen when that generation is gone. I feel like they will take so much with them when they leave: a true work ethic, integrity, and manners, to name a few.

Story time (Y'all know I always have a story): Back in the day a female family member got pregnant by a man she was “dating,” a soldier passing through town. So y’all know I’m using the term dating real loosely. Well a shotgun wedding proceeded. And they decided to have that one child and raise her and love her together. Well one grown child with a PhD, a husband, and two kids later, they are still married. Now some might view this as noble, some archaic, but contrast it with a young man I met last night who was with his girlfriend for two years before she got pregnant, the baby is now a year old, and they just live together. And he’s talking about he doesn’t want to get married until he’s ready to support a family. Excuse me? I think that’s the definition of putting the cart before the horse. When looking at these two situations, what I see is a man who was willing to sacrifice his plans for his life because he was a part of bringing another life into this world vs. a man who wants to cling to the life of a bachelor. What I see is acknowledging the reality of a situation then stepping up and taking personal responsibility vs. a it ain't my fault things happen in life kind of attitude.

As I settle into adulthood I have learned that I have a very different definition of manhood from a lot of people. I value character and substance over flash and cash. I have had some great men in my life who have shown me how a man is supposed to behave. But what about those who haven’t been as fortunate? What does manhood mean to them? How does manhood look to them? Who is teaching them how to be men? I remember watching a documentary some time ago on young black men in gangs. And the young man who couldn’t have been more than 18 years old said, “Our generation died when our fathers were born.” Damn. He was talking about a generation without fathers. A generation without men in the community. A generation that was already gone. I remember when I was in Philly watching a news piece about a shooting in the neighborhood. And people were standing in a prayer circle and the woman said, “We pray for the mothers, daughters, grandmothers, aunts, cousins…” I stopped cold because there was no mention of fathers, grandfathers, or uncles. What had been commonplace in my life was abstract in theirs. And this saddens me. Because my reality blends with their reality and forms, well, reality. And I can't ignore that. I can't put my experience above or over theirs.

I don’t write this thinking that all black men ain’t shit. Believe me I know better. I know there are great men out here. And I don’t write this thinking that there is no hope and that things are bleak. And I don't write this saying that if you ain't marry the mother of your child, you ain't a man. I know you take care of your kids. But I do wonder how it will be 50 years from now when God willing I’m reminiscing with my grandchildren about the community that I grew up in. As our key values continue to disappear, as we hear reports about 70% of Black children being born to single parent households, as I meet so many men with baby mamas and not wives who seem allergic to the mere thought and concept marriage, as these little hip hop youngins’ become the heroes of today and "old man" Andre 3000 has to school them in verse, what will I say about the men? What significance will they have played in my life? When I look back and share my stories, I want them to be honest, and I know there will be some ugly and some bad, but I hope there's a whole lot more good. So I pray that all the granddaddies, daddies, uncles and Deacon Johnsons out there are passing the torch to somebody, teaching what they know and ensuring that we'll have some warriors. Some men.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

is the truth un-american?

I remember the first time I heard of Rev. Jeremiah Wright. it was in a college classroom. I can't remember whether the course was The Higher Education of Black Women or this philosophy course on the existence of God on in my required freshman psuedo-history-sociology-english class called African Diaspora & the World, or ADW for the initiated. I just remember finding him fascinating, along with his mentor James Cone, for they respectively espoused and developed black liberation theology. illuminating the life of Jesus and my Christian faith as a liberating force for the world's oppressed instead of an oppressive doctrine wielded by the world's slave holders and colonizers alike.

so when I hear most commentators call Rev. Wright every thing but a child of God, I want to get on top of my desk and shout from the top of my lungs....

hoe sit down!

where were you people when the history lessons were being handed out? I will give you that the average high school history class isn't exactly enlightening. my h.s. teacher tried to indoctrinate us with what we needed to know for that AP U.S. history test but was shocked and amazed when I attempted to question her on slavery (the real version) and why the Marcus Garvey back to Africa movement wasn't part of our lesson. she had no words. So I'll let them slide...on h.s. history. but nothing in college, either? this is why my kids will go to an hbcu.

so I was history major and I took more history courses than the average bear but at my school every woman had to take ADW. and as much as some of us moaned and groaned, ask any alumna about the pedagogy of the oppressed and she'll be able to tell you a little something. we learned about European colonization from a world perspective and about African civilizations more advanced than I had been lead to believe possible. maybe that's why I agree with Rev. Wright cause I knows my history!

I know how this country rounded up the Japanese and forced them into internment camps during world war II. and how INS officials took similar actions after September 11th. how doctors experimented with the black male body at tuskegee. so don't tell me about how America is righteous and innocent, that it doesn't commit human rights violations like a third world country, "build[] bigger prisons, passe[] a three-strike law" and then you don't understand how Rev. Wright would be hesitant to sing God Bless America.

I need william jelani cobb to swoop in and break it down for these folks. and I wish they knew just how common Rev. Wright's sentiments are among Black people (that I know). not just my mama and grandmama nem but me a 27-year old college-educated graduate-degree-having attorney who works in corporate america and among the whitest of white folks on a daily basis. yes, I may smile hello but I regularly refer to you caucasians as whitey among my closest friends. and they aren't offended. am I a racist? I'll be that. my white friends know where I stand and they understand from whence I come. maybe they got those critical history courses in college too.

as for barack...I don't know, I really don't. I think brother believes deep in his heart in the almighty goodness of america. as one drop over at too sense blog alluded to, I fear that he's headed for some sort of breakdown or great awakening. as it's been expressed by so many Black people, there is a skepticism about whether white america will only let him get so far before they break him down. hell, they already doin it. and then you hear this speech that folks are calling historic mere moments after the words have left his lips. words and their delivery which, according to the nytimes, brought julian bond to tears. An ability to articulate in ways that we publicly have never heard before on cable news networks even though the focus remains on the points about rev. wright instead of his points about america's racist legacy and the lasting effects of slavery and I begin to wonder. can't we steal him back for ourselves? you know in the way that Oprah, Cosby and other influential black people allegedly snatched up dave chappelle in the middle of the night and showed him the error of his ways.

it seems such a waste for him to be so committed to america, so hopeful when as time rolls on the ruling powers, people and institutions of america aren't committed to him, his race, or his ideals in the same way.