(a piece I wrote for Antioch's "Antiochracy")


Although pride is noted as one of the seven deadly sins, one cannot deny the important role it has played throughout our history. Take Jesus for instance. To say that Jesus didn’t have any pride would be naive. To say that love alone was the sole driving force in Jesus, giving him the strength to suffer on a cross for six hours is the stuff faith is made of. I’m willing to dodge a bolt or two and claim that pride played a part in Jesus’ strength. Is it possible that Jesus held his head high, turned himself in and let a lesser man take his life because deep down within himself he knew that he was the shit?

There are numerous examples throughout our history. Pride seems to have a silver lining, even when it seems disastrous or over zealous. Take George W. Bush for instance. Bush’s pride was so off putting that his effect on the psyche of the general public paved the way for our nation’s first black president. Ninety-nine percent of the political Left was pretty much guaranteed to vote for Barack Obama, but what got him in office was the utter devastation that Bush inflicted on the hearts and minds of Republicans. In the end it seemed that it all boiled down to pride. Bush wore his pride like a child wearing a Super-man Halloween costume in the middle of July, while Obama wore his like a tuxedo on Oscar night.

Every time I see an image of the President I am reminded of that pride; that which is vital to my own existence; that which must be taken; that which is a rite of passage for the black male— like a lion cub learns to hunt. We have seen what can happen when that rite of passage does not occur. When opportunities for pride are scarce it becomes a passage plagued by desperation.

Over my lifetime I have learned to cultivate a sense of Black pride for myself, my story and the story of those that came before me. I have learned that silence in the face of racism or ignorance leads to a complicity that only serves to undermine that pride. Early on I learned to confront attacks on my pride by balling fist, beating my chest and roaring. As I matured I began to identify with the Black pride of those that resisted oppression with weapons far greater than fist— wordsmiths and thought provokers. I learned the importance of carrying oneself with dignity and grace. Since I arrived at Antioch, I have appreciated discussions of race in classes such as Ron Wilkins’ class on Black and Brown relations, Dr. Elaine Parker-Gills class on Blacks in Media and the deep emotional considerations of race in the Master of Arts in Psychology class Society and the Individual. At their best discussions of race within this school are encouraged and instructors open Pandora’s box allowing its contents to touch all in the room. For the most part I have been able to cultivate my pride— my Black pride— through discussions that begin in class and continue in my mind.

A few weeks ago I realized that my sense of pride is not teflon. For the first time since I have been at Antioch I swallowed my own roar while sitting in class. As I sat in a workshop on the subject of domestic violence an exchange occurred. The exchange surrounded father’s rights within the family court system. A disparaging remark was made in reference to the rights that the State of California gives to fathers. It was implied that the rights went too far. Had this been a comment surrounding race, institutional racism, affirmative action etcetera, my Black pride would not have allowed me to remain silent. However in the context of fatherhood I was speechless. Although I felt a response bubbling deep within my chest I did not speak. Later on when the conversation attempted to continue in my mind, regrets for not speaking up blocked it out.

What I came to realize is that just as my Black pride has been allowed to develop throughout my lifetime, I must allow my Father pride to do the same. At twenty-nine years old my Black pride continues to grow— I must not forget that my Father pride is a mere ten years old and will require some nurturing. Just as I was forced to examine my place in society as a black male—past and current oppressions, struggles and successes—I must do the same as a father. I can remember the first time I watched Spike Lee’s “Malcom X,” starring Denzel Washington. At eleven years old the three and half hour movie flew by like a thirty-minute episode of “Different Strokes.” The movie had such an impact on my psyche, that to this day when I read the words of Malcom X, I hear Washington’s voice.

What the “Malcom X” did was give voice to emotions and feelings that lay dormant. It awoke in me a sense of pride inspired by Malcom’s journey. I was inspired by Malcom’s transformation from a flashy conk wearing hustler named Red, to the cool calm and assertive man who’s pride could be seen in the fire in his eyes; a man whose brain and tongue were as powerful any high a caliber rifle. As I grew older I began to realize that images of Black men such as this are far in between when it comes to popular culture. Even today black eleven year-olds rarely receive such images. They are instead fed large doses of images draped in a pseudo pride built on money and machismo— a form of oppression and psychological warfare.

Father pride is something all fathers should strive to cultivate. It is important to stand against the oppression that permeates our culture. Within popular forms of media the image of the father has been turned into a caricature of buffoonery. The image of the black father hardly exist while that of the white father is subjected to an endless cycle of responsibility dodging men incapable of accessing emotions, craving only sports, sex and food. The oppression not only permeates our cultures’ imagery, but our language as well.

There is a scene in “Malcom X,” where Malcom looks up the words “black” and “white” in the dictionary and is astonished by the differences in the definitions; by the inherent racism in the words used to describe each race. White is described as pure, while black is described as dirty. Similarly the power of language can be seen when discussing the oppression of fathers. Consider the use of the term “single-mother.” The use of the prefix “single” immediately evokes feelings of sympathy or pity. Whether by death or divorce the implication is that the mother has been deserted. The prefix is rarely given to fathers and when it is, ironically the evoked feeling of desertion is confirmed and magnified.

Single-fathers are considered cute, an anomaly like that of an endangered species. The image of the single-father exists within exaggerated circumstances where the mother is dead, unfit or has deserted her children. Movies such as Tyler Perry’s “Daddy’s Little Girls” portrays a father who is attending to his children at the expense of the image of the mother. The movie implies that the only way a single-father could exist is for the mother to be completely unfit. It is no secret that Perry is to black women what the Lifetime channel is to white women, therefore his pandering to continued messages of oppression of fathers is no surprise.

When considering the oppression of my fatherhood, just as with Black oppression, I have to consider who gains from this oppression. For example, within the context of racism exist the concept of “White Privilege.” Stay at Antioch long enough and you will examine Peggy McIntosh’s description of White Privilege as “an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools, and blank checks.” The continued oppression of fathers perpetuates a dynamic and continued cultural norm that is similar to that of White Privilege—however within parenthood we adapt the term and use it as “Mother Privilege.”

McIntosh developed a list of the “daily effects” of White Privilege. Below I have listed a few of her points and below them I have edited her points to give you a view of the concept through the framework of “Mother Privilege.” The italicized points are benefits that exist in the “invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions” of mothers.

1. I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented.
I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see parents of my sex represented.

2. When I am told about our national heritage or about "civilization," I am shown that people of my color made it what it is.
When I am told about parenting or about raising children, I am shown that people of my sex made it what it is.

3. I can criticize our government and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider.
I can criticize family court system and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a dead-beat parent.

4. If I declare there is a racial issue at hand, or there isn't a racial issue at hand, my race will lend me more credibility for either position than a person of color will have.
If I declare there is parenting issue at hand, or there isn't a parenting issue at hand, my sex will lend me more credibility for either position than a male will have.

5. My culture gives me little fear about ignoring the perspectives and powers of people of other races.
My culture gives me little fear about ignoring the perspectives and powers of fathers.


I note the above points, not in an effort to accuse or convict, but in an effort to provoke dialogue.

There is a photo of Malcom X standing at a window and peering out of the curtains with an M1 carbine in hand. The photo was published in Ebony magazine as an illustration of how serious Malcom was about protecting his family in response to death threats. For me, this image not only evokes feelings of Black pride but also feelings of Father pride. It is a photo that captures Malcom’s commitment to protecting his family as well as his resistance to outside attacks. This is the same type of resistance that I seek to replicate within my own life. Just as my struggle for Black pride is in no way based on the response of white or popular culture, my Father pride will not depend on the responses others. Just as I will not stand for continued attacks on my Black pride, I will defend my Father pride by any means necessary.

A decade ago I fell asleep at a desk in community college
The longest dream I ever had
Voices, asking ‘why you even go to college’ “Learn you a trait!” “UPS and FedEx Pay”
I woke up ten years later ready to walk the stage
Proud of my alma mater and for which it stands
Graduated with a high chin, with stripes running down my face
To my biggest fan:
There's nothing like watching the crop sown from your own hustle blossom
It’s like standing at the top of a mountain
Feet planted, nothing touching you but the breeze as it passes
So high I almost grew a pair of wings
From this point forward it’s no longer do as I say
Time pays
Do as I do Youngblood, I do it for you


And to my wife, friend and partner and crime
We did it, jumped the broom stick
Never say forever
I’m happy with the now and here
I hold them close like blade and shield
Where that ball and chain around my neck
My prized medallion
My All Spark
For you I’d die and come back like Optimus Prime
Who would have ever thought,
Lucky number seven, signed the license then a mortgage
Feels like we crashed the party, drank all the liquor and walked out with the keys to the car


Who will forget those two boys
If life was a game I would have got an achievement called “protect and serve”
Must have got it twisted with all the v-necks and glasses
They tried to re-enact something they saw on television and got served in Tagalog
Mama that boy took it too far, called me nigga and put his hands where they didn’t belong
I blacked out and woke up the next morning wiping blood off my shoes on some CSI ish
Cursing myself for falling into that trap
They didn't stand a chance, but I played right into their hands
I dropped the crown, I might as well have given them the keys to the house
In 2010 we ”off that”


Pained my heart to see my little sister going through it
trying to hold her own in her parents battles
Kids want the flashy things, the gadgets
But when will we learn that they need us
That it’s their right not a privilege
You up next baby girl
Close ya eyes and you can hear the hunger pains of them streets
For too long they fed on our lineage
Gluttony plus the other six, it's all in our heritage
It’s our job to keep them starving
Take your crown off, read the blank engraving and fill it in
We royalty and I expect nothing less than
This time next year I expect you to be a freshman, sharing a room with a stranger and living off of Top Ramen


The black icing on the cake- Air Jordan Space Jam XI’s
Yes I am a Martian
I need counseling
Didn’t break bread for my ten year high school reunion, but for you
Didn’t even think to stand in line for a flu shot, but for you
I almost caught the flu
Standing in line out in the cold, had me laid up on Christmas with my face in a box of tissue
I'm bowing out...
In 2010 I’m stepping my shoe cleaner game up and focusing on preserving my current stock

What a great year, feel like I trained it for it
Here’s to 2010
Staying focused
Staying grassroots with it
I mean alarm clock ticking, tennis shoes slipping out from under sheets, grass in my teeth
Smiling

Thank the Gods for 2009
Yea, I’m feeling myself
I’m thinking of having my heart beat transcribed in brail
Packaging it with shower gel and stocking it on shelves

Labels: graduation, marriage, multi-media, new year, success

i did this a couple years ago, but i chose a song to go with each question instead of having my library on shuffle. so here's the official 'shuffle of my life'

1. Put your media player on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!
4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.
5. Tag at least 10 friends.
6. Anyone tagged has to do the same, because fun pointlessness spreads like a virus.

If someone says, “Is this okay?” You say?
count down - 3 melancholy gypsies

How would you describe yourself?
the way i am-eminem

What do you like in a guy/girl?
fever-ryhmefest

How do you feel today?
magic- robin thicke

What is your life’s purpose?
LA blues- murs and asek feat. da wax

What is your motto?
the letter-ghostface killah

What do your friends think of you?
snake charmer-madlib

What do you think of your parents?
kill joy-n.e.r.d

What do you think about very often?
push back-killer mike

What is 2 + 2?
robocop-kanye west

What do you think of your best friend?
don't want to be alone-devin the dude

What do you think of the person you like?
no greater love- blu

What is your life story?
i like dirt-red hot chili peppers

What do you want to be when you grow up?
sister-ryhmefest

What do you think of when you see the person you like?
nice- the game

What will you dance to at your wedding?
dear mama-2pac

What will they play at your funeral?
ice cream- raekwon

What is your hobby/interest?
still up all night- johnson & johnson

What is your biggest fear?
devemlardo-atmostphere

Your kisses are as hollow as the crack pipe you left me for
They sting like blossoming cold sores I hope no one will ever notice
They’re hollow and demanding like the elephant in the room

Those three words shouldn’t even exist in your vocabulary
They are what insult is to injury and a bottle of Jose Cuervo is to pain
As a child I tried to wrap myself in them
Like a blanket that was too small
I struggled to make the ends meet like you never did

It took me a long time to realize that every time you spoke those words you warped my vision of love like shattered lenses
And how the only thing that’s ever existed between us is space
A space where black holes shine like the sun

But I will never tell you any of this
I’ll never tell you how when I got home I stood in the mirror trying to rub your kisses off my face like it was the day after Halloween
I’ll never tell you how I spent days preparing for today
Only to arrive to a party with no food, no booze and no music
Just a bunch of people in costume trying to pretend to be someone else


part one can be found here

Labels: crack addiction, deadbeat mother, mom, mother, trauma

I was at my littler sister's 5th birthday party and I got to talking to this dude. He was blazing and I was puffing on a newport (yes I'm back on it) and he was talking about Obama and how black men now have a dude in the White House and how it's time to cut the BS and get our grinds. I agreed, but that part of the conversation isn't what struck me.

He got talking about his history and how growing up he was the only one out of his boys his never did time and how to him it something that he kinda wanted. He was saying how he had a mother and father who both told him that wasn't the route to go, but seeing all of his friends go through it he felt like he needed it. To him incarceration was a rites of passage.

From their he went on to talk about this non-profit he has that works with you through sports and mentorship. He talked about how he'll take at-risk kids, the worst of the worst and put them in sports. Get them sponsored by people and take them around the country to competitions. It was pretty much what I do but on a much closer level. For example, I work for a private organization that's pretty much statewide. Their certain shit that you just don't do, like take a client to your home. This guy answers his phone at midnight and if a kid is out in the streets and doesn't want to go home for some reason he'll tell them to come through. He'll let them sleep and the next morning he'll go into them and verbally break them down. My job, while we do have a 24 hour on call number, there's only so much we can do, and certain shit we're obligated to do. Like instead of telling them to come to my home, I might find a shelter or if the kid is AWOL call the police.

I got the dude's number because I have a couple clients that might be interested in what he does. And to be honest I think they may respect him and his word more than they do mine. I've come to realize something... I'm still breaking it down in my own mind so if I seem to ramble forgive me, but I'll spill it out:

In the field I work in, which can be considered social work, black males are an endangered specie. Endangered probably isn't the word because that would imply that their had to be a population in the first place. On my team which consist of nine people (five of which are in my position) I am the only male, and the only black male at that. So my entire caseload consists of boys. All of which have never had a father in their lives. Ten months I've been doing this and I've never come across a father. So they pretty much latch on to me. Even when they don't want to or have some hesitations they latch on. And the effect is apparent to my supervisor. Here's where it gets a tricky: a couple of weeks ago I was talking to a kid and he was talking about steeling and jacking and I was challenging him asking him why the fuck he'd think to jack money before he'd think to work for it- all legal shit aside, why? So we get to talking and at a point in the conversation he directs a point towards me and says, "It's not like you're going to get all black on me all of a sudden." I asked him what he meant by that and he couldn't/wouldn't answer the question. I found out from another team member that his older brother has been calling me an uncle Tom, trying to turn his younger (my client) against me. It all of sudden made sense.

Yet another example, when I first started my job I had someone on my team go into some shit about how I don't look black, how I look European or some shit. That one I kinda brushed off and said you watch too much TV- It was my first week on the job and I wasn't going to butt heads.

And tonight, at the party, after I finished my conversation with the guy my uncle asked me how much of it I related to. We were interrupted and didn't get to finish our conversation, but it was an interesting question to me. As I told the dude, I never wanted to go to prison or get arrested. I always said that my dad did enough time for the both of us so you'd never see me in a pair of cuffs. And I can sit here and type out my whole history, but what I've come to realize is although it may be similar to what some of the kids I work with are going through, they don't necessarily see it. Some will say I underestimate the effect that I have on these kids, when I feel like they overestimate. I feel like their our men out their who would have a larger impact. Like MURS put it, "I'm more Coldplay than I'm ICE-T." Even though I never listened to a Coldplay record in my life, I know for a fact that with some of my kids, probably most, if a man who looked more like Snoop Dogg said the same exact shit that I said he would have more credibility. And what it all boils down to is being able to relate. For one, I can relate to a kid who has a mother who suffers from drug addiction. But I was raised by my grandmother, so what I can't relate to is coming home to a mother who has an addiction. I can relate to kid who has had childhood friends die or get locked up. But when I say childhood, I mean like 1-6 years of age, not 16,17,18.

To get to the point while I enjoy my job because of the fact that I feel like I'm making a difference, I think their are others who can make a bigger difference. I think there's some ex-offenders out there who would be able to do my job just right, but because they have records they don't qualify. There are people who go to college and major in social work and make a decent living while there are those who live in communities and do social work because its a family obligation.

It's still unraveling in my mind but I think we can do more to reach at-risk kids. We can start by opening the field up to ex-offenders. That's just one concrete thing I can think of, but there's much more to be done.

Labels: at-risk, growing pains, race, uncle tom, who's going to take the weight, youth

This morning my son and I got in the car to head for school. The first thing he said was, "Obama is going to paint the white house black."

"No," I replied. "He's going to paint it the color of the people."

I went on to explain how Obama was elected by the people not because he is black but because he talked to the people and inspired them. I went off on a tangent about how McCain and Bush did not represent the interest of the people-us included. I told him to remember this day and then I took the opportunity to talk to him about hard work and sacrifice, telling him how Obama could have made a lot of money but instead he chose to work in his community. At one point I did something which significance did not hit me until later in the day. I compared myself to president-elect Obama-never in my life have i compared myself to a president... I never missed it either (i don't know if i'm ready to wear it. it feels like an ill-fitted outfit... almost a little disingenuous-but the point is, my son will one day do it with a clear conscience). I told my son Obama went to college not in pursuit of money but knowledge- knowledge which he used to help his community. I told him how I am not focused on making money either, that in fact in the beginning my sole reason for going to college was just to show him that it was possible. And the last thing I told him was the world was his and that he could have anything in it as long as he was willing to work for it.