Oh, Say Can You See

Can you see...
How long have we waited? For decades.
picking cotton, sharecropping, working in places we couldn't afford to go, marching, working a factory job, excluded from the union, enduring when, told we didn't meet the qualifications because we were too dumb-too ugly-too black, not even considered a person...
Until we forced them to see us as people.
with families, and values, and hopes, and dreams, not so different, we are a great peculiar people, people of joy, peace, gentleness and long suffering...
Can you see?This is a new dawning.
One that we have to help rise up.

I guess this would be the place where I would insert a some lyrics from a good Negro spiritual. Or throw in a few verses of We Shall Overcome...but I feel like those type of battles are over. I think this election is more to remind all folks that this is our country too. We might be marginalized in the media, but we are more than what we see on television. We have a voice beyond the rappers and the athletes...we have a history and a culture the includes, but isn't exclusively hip-hop. To me this election is about me being seen as a person in my own country. It's about telling my yet unborn children that they can be anything they want to be...and it be a true affirmation that doesn't just stop at the Governor's mansion or in a Senate seat. Today is about getting the idealistic American definition of a land for all to truly represent itself. This election is about people being different and unique but no less American for being themselves.


So at this place, I leave you with a little Marvin, who rearranged our National Anthem so it showed his perspective. And that's what voting today is about! Showing our perspective. Making it impossible for our country to blindly ignore what must be seen..and that is us!



See You In Seven

Riches to Rags

Happy Monday to ya. It is truly a dark, stormy, and soggy day here in the DMV urrea. With all the rain we've had over the past few days (and with more to come), corn on the cob better be sweet as sugar this summer! And now on to my topic for the day...

Last week, I caught a story on the local news about a man who was evicted out of his home due to foreclosure. This particular story made the news because the eviction took place in Georgetown, an affluent Washington, D.C. neighborhood filled with with million dollar homes.

Check the clip:




(Source: WJLA ABC 7 News)

I'm not sure whether laughter or tears are appropriate.

Mr. Aina, the evicted homeowner, claims he is a foreclosure property specialist, runs an investment club, and owns emerald mines. And yet he could not avoid foreclosure? He lives in a neighborhood nationally known for its prestige and notability. Movie scenes have been shot there. Senators, congressmen, and ambassadors make their homes there. Yet because of this "businessman", certain activity has been brought to the neighborhood which usually occurs on the "ghetto" side of town.

People are pulling their cars over and jumping out to get a closer look. Some do it out of curiosity, but most are just opportunists who cannot believe their luck at having a shot to dig through (and roll out with) the belongings of a million dollar home. The man is fortunate to have a few nice neighbors who try to keep an eye on his stuff and shoo away the vultures. Can't help but love the sista who shouts "I got your tag number!"

These are all reasons for me to laugh.

Now when I learned of Mr. Aina's nationality, I immediately raised an eyebrow. Nigeria has been linked to many shady business scams. My own mama has advised me to be cautious when dealing with Nigerians. It ain't right to profile someone based on their ethnicity or nationality. Lord knows, I know better being a lifelong victim of racial profiling. But it definitely raised a red flag to me.

Why didn't this man just vacate the premises when he got that letter marked "FINAL" telling his ass the U.S. Marshals were on their way? Was it his arrogance that wouldn't allow him to bow out gracefully? And why address the news cameras, adding further insult to injury? I was embarrassed just watching the clip. No need to dance a jig for the camera too. And speaking of spectacles, would this story have made the evening news if the homeowner was of European descent?

And who but a poor man has ever used a wheelbarrow to haul his prized possessions?

These are all reasons for me to cry.


Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy

The Dream Is Real

Early morning, April 4.
A shot rings out in the Memphis sky.
Free at last, they took your life,
But they could not take your pride.
In the name of love,
What more in the name of love.

Pride (In the Name of Love), U2


One of my favorite R&B artists, Raheem Devaughn, shots out “The dream is real” in between songs on his mixtapes. He goes on to say “Be a dream catcher, not a dream chaser.” Kinda corny, but I respect the message.

Last night I started thinking about my dreams and the pursuit, or lack thereof, of said dreams. While kickin it with my mom, I mentioned to her some things that I wanted to accomplish but had put on pause due to lack of financing. My mom’s response was that anything I want to do, can be done. Period. She stressed want being the most important factor. My mother also told me in a very matter-of-fact manner that I have always accomplished whatever I set my mind to. While anything I didn’t care much for… well you can guess the rest. Basically, it ain’t hard at all to walk away from shit you don’t care about.

On the eve of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday [his real birthday is January 15] as I think of the many dimensions of his legacy, there is one word that stands out to me the most. Not freedom. Not equality. Not history. Not pride.

But dream.

Of the many definitions given by dictionary.com, I’d like to highlight:

• An aspiration; goal; aim
• A vision voluntarily indulged in while awake
• To regard something as feasible or practical
• One that is exceptionally gratifying, excellen, or beautiful.

No explanation is needed for why Dr. King’s magnanimous speech “I Have a Dream” touched so many hearts around the world. We can all relate. We all have dreams that are near and dear to us and that we hope to see materialize one day. There are so many others who have put their lives on the line for their dreams whose names are not mentioned in the history books. I believe that Dr. King was a chosen messenger. He inspired a movement. A revolution. It is our duty to keep that flame ignited.

But how hard are you really working towards your dream? How much faith do you have in your dreams and your ability to make them come true? Are you willing to put your life on the line for your dreams? Can you honestly say that when you put your very best effort forward, you yield absolutely no positive results whatsoever?

I ask these questions of you, as well as myself. Cause I know I got work to do and a legacy to preserve. What the hell am I waiting for?

It’s check in time. Check your dreams. Make them happen.

Not only is the dream real, but we are the dream.

Happy Birthday Dr. King.


Tumultuously Yours,

Dark & Stormy

Vote Or Die... It Makes Me Cry

We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes
Struggling myself don’t mean a whole lot I come to realize
That teaching others to stand up and fight is the only way my struggle survive
I’m a woman who speaks in a voice and I must be heard
At times I can be quite difficult, I’ll bow to no man’s word.

- Ella’s Song, Sweet Honey In The Rock


With all the talk about the Iowa caucus, the upcoming primary elections, and Barack Obama kickin a** in the polls, I revisit a conversation I’ve had with myself often over the years since my 18th birthday:

To vote or not to vote, that is the question.

As simple as it sounds, ain’t nothing simple about it. The presidential election process of this country is one of the most complicated, well-crafted, manipulative, corrupt, autocratic, antiquated systems I have ever heard of. What is the point of me casting a ballot only to have it not counted because the majority of my state did not vote the same way? What is so wrong with counting all the apples together and all the oranges together the way we learned in kindergarten? How bad would this society really be if hard working, tax paying folk had a say in the way their money was being spent?

I could do the usual Dark & Stormy statistical breakdown but I’m not in the mood for numbers today. Today I’m just feeling like plain common sense and belief that a true democratic world could exist.

The first time I voted, I was proud to become a part of history. I was inspired by knowing that I was honoring those who gave blood, sweat, tears, and even life so that I would have such a privilege. I felt like a real adult doing adult things. Taking an active role in my community and the world around me.

Then one day I woke up. Circa 2000 presidential elections to be exact. I witnessed highway robbery on the primetime news. The nation watched with horror as the true rulers of the “free world” flexed their muscle and let us regular folk know just how much power we really have.

When ’04 came around, non-partisan groups everywhere tried to rally people to register to vote and convince them that their vote really mattered. They used the argument that the close results of the previous election was proof that every vote is necessary.

Remember this foolishness?

Exactly. Some things need not be treated as the latest fad. What started out as a great idea turned into yet another minstrel show. I chuck it up to poor execution. Inspiration and admiration are not synonymous. But I digress.

Are all these gimmicks necessary? Does it even matter? Why waste my time? These are the questions I ask myself. I'm the first person to preach to folks that they cannot evoke change within the current system without first using it and understanding it. That it's best to jump off the revolution from the inside. I've always believed that it was my right as a tax paying citizen to vote. That I will honor the 15th amendment to the United States Constitution even though I think it's bullsh*t.

Something has changed within me because I am contemplating waving my white flag on this battle. Or is it just my being a lil' more wiser and a lil' less greener?

Maybe its just that nightmare I had last night about a brown presidential hopeful becoming yet another martyr for the cause.


Tumultuously Yours,

Dark & Stormy

Nothing is More American

America. Home of the brave, the land of the free, a country of opportunity. When most think of America they have visions of communities. These neighborhoods have homes surrounded by white picket fences and children merrily playing on green lush lawns. There are apple pies cooling on window sills. For many this is the American dream. I too agree that this is a dream-for this image is not a true depiction of the country I live in. When I think about this image it is blond haired children that I see in those fenced in yards. Where are the people of color? In this American dream why have I been excluded?

It's sad that in 2007 there is still an epidemic in this country. For years we have been told that this ailment was cured by the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s. Legislature was passed to allow us to go to the same schools. Places boast of equal housing and employment opportunities on their placards. Today we can turn on the television and see that the black faces are no longer the maids or the butlers. Now we are the wise cracking sidekicks, giving sage advice wrapped up in witty attitude to help our white buddies. But here lately the media has been reporting what most Black Americans have always known to be true-that as a nation we're still sick.

I have never had a cross burning in my yard and no one has ever called me the n-word to my face, but I have seen the faces of my Anglo co-workers. Its hard for some of them to mask their surprise when I tell them that I don't have any children or that I do not live in the predominately black side of town. There are preconceived ideas in their heads that I shouldn't know as much as I know or speak as well as I do. But I am not surprised by this. When I was 10 the white father of my twin best friends told me that my family and I were different from the rest of them. I didn't realize at the time that this was a WTF moment. That this comment was his stamp of approval for me to play with his precious children. That had I been like the rest of "them" I would not have been allowed to share giggles with his girls about which boys we thought were the cutest in our class. Nearly two decades later I struggle to remember the names of his daughters but I can't forget what he said to me in the kitchen of his home. What does this say about a man compelled to say something to a 10 year old because his preconceived ideas on Blacks were destroyed by us being ourselves? What does this say about the health of America?

While I fight for people to see me as an individual, I realize that I can't be judgmental of those who can't see a single black female as anything other than a welfare recipient and a crass mother of 6. I can't because I too show symptoms of this disease that afflicts America. Maybe I caught it by watching television, picked it up in history class or maybe while playing with my friends. I truly don't know. But when I heard young Latino men speak to each other in English about computer programming I was taken aback. And even when I think of the perfect neighborhood to raise my clan, Juan and Juanita are not there. And I think I am okay with that. Sadly.

Ah America. Is there anything more American than baseball? Apple pie? Or the racism that allows us to continue to dream of neighborhoods that only people like us can inhabit?

See you in Seven