Tag Archives: United States

Don’t Pinch Me

I have died and gone to the JW Marriott in Dubai! If this is a dream, let me slumber.

With my king beside me, my kibibi underfoot, and my blessing inside me,  I’ve seen the sunrise and moonlight dance together over the vast view of ornate mosques, galloping horses dark as midnight, African goddesses in stained glass windows anchored by the prodigious statues of African emperors, and a beautiful myriad of people from all over the world. As far as I can see, there are symbols of growth, transition, progress, and pride. The juxtaposition of opulence and reverence is intriguing as I’ve rarely seen these two sides on one gold coin.

After a seven and a half hour flight on Singapore Airlines, (If you’re going to fly economy, then Singapore Airlines is the best way to do it.), we were greeted by our hotel representative standing singly holding a large sign in a leather bi-folded frame printed with my husband’s name spelled correctly in a bold font. This in itself is somewhat familiar, but the fact that we were greeted in the area reserved for distinguished guests before being escorted through the hurried bustling throng of  taxi drivers and less exclusive greeters, as we were led to our private chauffeur of a smaller version of my husband’s dream car, the Mercedes S600, made it a little special.

On the journey from the airport, Salna*, our South Indian driver, was all too excited to boast of the historical and touristic treasures of Dubai. Having lived here for 15 years, he has adopted Dubai as home and donned himself the tour guide and information resource for first time visitors. We learned about the unique attractions like the world’s largest mall and musical water fountain, the Burj Khalifa, which is the world’s largest hotel or man-made structure, imagethe seven emirates that comprise the U.A.E., and how wonderful and safe Dubai is because of their beloved ruler, His Highness Sheikh Mohammed. Despite this not being his native country, Salna* clearly felt like he was an embraced part of it and proud to be so.

When we arrived at the dual towers of our hotel, we were warmly greeted by Khatasie*, a beautiful South African young woman who’s only lived here for three months. Our kibibi was immediately enamored with her. She too begin boasting of both her home country and Dubai, urging us to visit again and again. Now, of course, I attribute a great deal of their hospitality to the fact that it is the industry in which they are employed, but there was something refreshingly genuine and kind about them as well. The same could be said about Di*, our chef from Nepal to whom our little one was also drawn. She usually only speaks enough to be polite, if even, but she actually entertained a conversation with Di*, going as far as to mistakenly say she was from Abu Dhabi and “it’s fun.”

We’ve only been here for twelve hours, and it’s already made a significant impression. Now, we’re heading off to explore. The mall must be conquered!

Why We Must Forgive

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I was walking through a parking lot today, and I saw a sign that read, “If reason is on your side, show forgiveness. If justice is on your side, show humility.”

At first, it rattled me considering the state of anger wherein I’ve traveled increasingly since the Trayvon Martin trial, and where I’ve resided since this past week’s Jordan Davis trial. Why must they, (justice and reason), be mutually exclusive? Why does the gift of justice come so sparingly to my people? Why must we always be the strongest and forgive? I had to pray about that thing.

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I was reminded of the power of and that comes through forgiveness. It’s not letting anyone off the hook. It’s stopping yourself from being hung by your own rope. It’s letting go so you can progress in healing. It’s the gateway to productivity, and now is certainly time to be productive.

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So, I am choosing to forgive for my sake and ours collectively.

I forgive those who lay in idle complacency and serve as spectators to our genocide.

I forgive those who offer no alternative and do nothing to aid in our collective struggle other than serve their own individual pool, but who feel authorized to criticize, denounce, and ridicule strategies that are devised for the very people they’ve chosen to neglect or pity.

I forgive ignorance.

I forgive those who are so entangled in their own emotions and feelings that they cannot understand our plight enough to even fathom the thought of a group seemingly excluding them to heal within themselves.

I forgive those who throw baseless accusations and antiquated insults because they are afraid and personally offended that we are personally offended by our plight in this country.

I forgive all who are in the position to do so, but fail to empathize.

I forgive all who are in a position to do so, but fail to help.

I forgive those who look like they are African, but offer no other indication of such.

I forgive our would be leaders who have chosen their comfort, status, and fortune over using their platforms to propel the progress of the disenfranchised.

I forgive those in our community who have fallen victim to self-loathing, and in turn hate and seek to destroy us all.

I forgive those who have had the audacity to take a life that they didn’t birth, love, understand, or embrace with little to no remorse.

I forgive the history of America, though it’s never acknowledged its fault or current effects or asked for or felt the need for our forgiveness.

I forgive myself for not being more forgiving sooner and for putting my faith in anyone other than God and the Spirit of God within us.

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I forgive, because I must; because I need to heal; because we need to progress; because you’re worthy even if you don’t believe it; because we’re worthy even when we don’t see it; because that’s what I’ve been instructed to do; because reason is a gift too.

Because we have work to do, I forgive you.

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Wide Awake Part II : The 10 Lessons I’ve Re-Learned About America While Living Abroad

Living abroad automatically enrolls me in an online course of “Race Relations in America in the Presumed Post-Racial Era.” In the seven months of my course work, I’ve been reintroduced to some invaluable lessons.

1. Black men are seen as inept, incapable, ill-equipped, inferior, invisible “boys” when it comes to standard allowances for the majority such as personal or commercial loans, employment, or scholastic admissions and scholarships.

2. Black boys are seen as dangerous, threatening, thuggish, lethal “men” when it comes to justifying their murders with erroneous claims of self-defense.

3. White men, women, and children can and will be justified and excused for any infliction or infraction upon someone black or brown, and if they’re wealthy, any infliction or infraction period.  If any action of systemic justice is taken such as an indictment, it will be far-reaching and unattainable to convict so as to pacify the cries of the oppressed.

4. Black men, women, and children will not be justified or excused in any infliction or infraction period.

5. Black and brown children are not allowed to be children, to engage in frivolous activity, to be seen as innocent, to be mischievous or given the opportunity to mature and evolve as their white counterparts are.

6. Self-defense only applies to the majority culture. This includes any that have assimilated to the point of being mistaken as a member of the majority culture. Black people are not allowed to feel and act with fear because they are only to be feared.

7. It’s worse in the south.

8. “The south is any state below Canada.” – Malcolm X

9. White entitlement, which is an intoxicating and debilitating drug that can be inherently or mistakenly consumed by anyone,  will lead to the following when any minority voices they want to empower themselves:  they will NOT want you to advance in this way; they will feel entitled to voice their opposing opinions in any forum, even yours; they will always play the victim; they will try to beat you over the head with insults and accusations, specifically that you, the oppressed party, are racist; they will not offer support; they will feel threatened and offended by any thought you have to progress your own as the majority culture has done since the inception of this country; they will not take kindly to any encroaching on their way of life; they will try to steal, kill, and/or destroy you, your ideals, your culture, & your identity.

10. Many educated or influential, middle class or affluent Black people will be afraid to recognize or SPEAK on these matters in fear of disturbing their individual lives of contentment and complacency. Those of us who do will be marred even by our own. So is the price of reading of, thinking for, and loving oneself.

I was aware, but did not fully digest the reality of the aforementioned when I actually dwelled in the midst of it. I was honestly somewhat afraid of truly SPEAKing the truths of my experience for fear of ruining relationships, ostracizing myself, or jeopardizing the safety of those I love. (See number 9.) Now, I realize we are all in jeopardy. Our lives are already vulnerable because they are seen as disposable. Our rights to humanity have already been stripped for many, and can be from us all at any time. We have not progressed nearly as much as we have fooled ourselves into believing. What else do we have to lose?

Now, is the time to pool together to focus on what we have to gain. My husband and I have engaged in many discussions about restoring our culture and community within the states. Our ancestors literally slaved to build a country that has continually terrorized us as its inhabitants. It’s time we do something, well within our rights, about it. He has compiled a list, an action plan if you will, that can and should be implemented by all who are focused on rebuilding and restoring black economy, black neighborhoods, black greatness.  Loving ourselves and wanting to support our own, just like all other cultures do already, does not mean we hate anyone else. There is no room or energy for hate. We have to know and understand this first.

I know posts like this will meet with opposition, and I no longer care to entertain it. Again, those who are intoxicated with supremacy will feel ENTITLED to speak even when they are not addressed at all. These things will apply to any one in opposition, regardless of race. Knowing these things, we must remain focused. We can lovingly educate those who are genuinely interested in our cause, but we will not engage in useless banter. We give credence to their voice when we do. If you are in disagreement with the purpose of this post and the following action plan, feel free to keep moving. We’ve got work to do here.

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For those who are wondering what to do now that it has been repeatedly confirmed that our lives have no value. This list is already being implemented by other cultures, the majority culture in America especially. The oppressed cannot be racist, because we hold no economic power. Be not distracted by the intoxicated.

Resource list to help complete the list:

Black Banks: http://urbanintellectuals.com/2013/10/03/did-you-know-there-were-21-african-american-owned-banks-in-the-country/

Effects of Black Schools: 

How to Support Black Businesses:

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Saturday, August 1, 2013 4:51 AM

During our transitional process, we traveled quite a few times within the states. (See Planes, Trains, and Auto Deals coming soon.) In one trip, while waiting in the airport, my daughter saw a designated children’s play area and gleefully darted in its direction. Already playing were three children, two girls and one boy, ranging in age from what seemed to be four and nine; all a bit older than my toddler. Two were white and one was Asian.

I only took notice of any of this at all because as soon as my daughter landed on the rubberized play mat and touched the glazed slippery slope, the eldest of the trio jerked at her presence and screeched venomously, “Run! She’s evil!!” They all fled. I leapt towards her. My daughter chased after them because she thought they were playing with her, not operating against her.  Her innocence allowed her to enjoy the “game.” My insight made me want to jump to her rescue. I halted in my steps to assess. Why would this child say that? Why would her onlooking parent not say anything?

It could’ve been because she was the youngest, but at some point someone else was, and yet they were eventually included. It could’ve been that she was the “new kid,” but also at some point…. It could’ve been that she was a girl, but…. It could’ve been that she had three ponytails instead of one. It could’ve been that I was hypersensitive, but… How tiring it is to have to decide whether you’re going to honor or trivialize your feelings.

Part II

We, Black Americans, want so much to be a part of the standard landscape. I remember being entranced by “The Wizard of Oz” as a child. My favorite two parts of the movie were when Dorothy sang the classic, “Somewhere over the Rainbow,” and when she landed in Munchkin Land and her world was suddenly in color; the irony that there were no people of color in the entire movie notwithstanding. We all loved the story, but longed to see ourselves in it. So, we created the more colorful cultural iconic version in “The Wiz,” which immediately became my favorite.

Fast forward.

On the voyage over, the GPS of the airline tracked our trip and we could see the mapping of our course on our personal screens. I took a picture of the digital map that displayed where we were in the world. By the time we reached Singapore, we had created an arc, a rainbow so to speak, with Africa deep in its center.  It was symbolic of the transition. I knew when I stepped off the plane, things were different in ways I hadn’t expected.

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When I walk around here, I feel invisible. It’s not in the, “If I can’t see you, then you’re not my problem, so…” or “I only see you as a problem that I want to fix or critique, so I’ll say I’m colorblind or conservative” way of America. More in the, “You’re not that different. We all have to get where we’re going. Let’s keep it moving. I have to catch this lift*, train, taxi, bus, or bike,” sort of way.  I’ve gotten everything from the cordial nods and smiles & the congenial chatter in passing to the failure to hold and pass the door when I’m a step behind with my child in arms & the complete brushing, bumping, shoving of shoulders as someone whips by and barely notices I’m standing in their path WITH MY CHILD IN ARMS.

But, I’ve noticed everyone gets the same royal treatment. Singaporeans seem to be no respecter of persons when it comes to their courtesy or callousness; at least such has been my experience in my (extremely) brief time here. (I’m told, however, that there is a very overt discrimination against Indian people in Singapore. But, because we decidedly live in an area called Little India, I have yet to observe it. I’ll address that in another post.)

It’s remarkable to even entertain the idea of not looking through the lens of race.  In America, we, Black Americans, are exposed to the idea of race and its impact on our livelihood very early. We are taught to recognize racism in order to know how to respond to it. We are taught the code of conduct in various environments throughout our entire educational matriculation and maturation. We are taught to walk, speak, & conform in a certain manner as to not alarm, agitate, or instill fear in the status quo. We are taught the rules of assimilation and double standards for our own survival and as an instrument to achieve at least a marginal sense of success.

…….

The timing of this move was impeccable.  In the wake of everything that’s happening in the states right now, my home state especially, I was eager to travel, and certainly more excited about moving than I was initially…at least for a time. The frustration builds so much sometimes that you must have an exodus, lest an explosion. To be free from the constant weight of always having to contextualize life’s circumstances through a racial construct is glorifying, even if it’s just for this honeymoon period, however long that may be.

My daughter has played alongside a surprisingly diverse group of new peers everyday since we’ve arrived in Singapore. So far, I’ve had no need to jump to her rescue.  That’s not to say that Singapore

Over the Rainbowis a perfect, harmonious, ethnically diverse utopia where racism against Africa’s sons and daughters goes to hibernate. I’m not sure whether it is or isn’t just yet; too early to tell. But, history tells me it’s highly unlikely. I’m not naïve enough to believe I won’t experience racism at all here. But, I don’t think it will be all I experience here. We truly are somewhere over the rainbow, or at least not in Kansas anymore.

*A lift is an elevator.  Along with “pram,” it’s a new term I’ve fancied.