Three Fifths Manslaughter

There are moments that define lives. Enough of those moments in the lives of many people, similar or not create patterns. Patterns create perceptions and perception is reality. Make no mistake about that.

There is a pattern that I've noticed as of late. Its not even a stretch of imagination to say so. When Black men are unjustly gunned down by police officers or anyone of authority who legally carries a firearm, the charge is usually manslaughter.

Recently, a young life was taken after suffering 10 shots from an officer’s weapon. Jonathan Ferrell was murdered after surviving a horrendous car accident in which he escaped by kicking his way out of the back window. Oscar Grant lost his life after being fired upon by a police officer while lying on his stomach. Sean Bell was a victim at the hands of several officers.

Besides the obvious fact that these young men were killed by cops, a recurring theme in their prosecution is that the party responsible was never charged with anything more than manslaughter.

Its hard for it not to feel like our lives are less than others. Its hard to see a silver lining. As Black men we are already faced with a common mistrust for police enforcement. These kind of examples further our chasm.

Are we not human beings? Are our lives worth less or worthless? No. We are human. We are lovers and we are loved. Our ancestors were once counted three fifths of human being in order for the South to be properly represented in government. Now, after full citizenship, are we not owed equal protection under the law, from danger and in this nation. This is our America, too. How about another compromise?

Excuse Me, Miss

Who is raising your kid? I ask that with the utmost sincerity. Do you really know what he wants to be? Do you realize what he could be? Do you know where he’s headed? Is that ok with you? I ask because I spoke with your son at school today. He told me that he wanted to be a thug. No joke. He wants to be a thug because it’s tight. I know that you have a lot going on and that you have other children to raise. I know that you work several jobs. I know that you haven’t heard from his father in years. I am aware of all of the obstacles in your life that could get in the way of rearing your child, but he needs you to be superhuman.

He’s much smarter than his teacher thinks. She’s just more focused on his behavior. After sitting in his class, I can understand why. He needs you. I only get an hour a week.

Making it Home 101: How to Survive an Encounter with the George Zimmermans of the World

     As I write this, I realize that I am a bit torn between the meaning of a somewhat cliché saying. That phrase just so happens to be “History repeats itself”. I finished that last sentence and found my point. History takes place as early as yesterday. We are never too far away from it. It just applies differently to situations as they occur. One of those occurrences is walking home as a Black man.

     There are many things that come to mind as I await the outcome of this George Zimmerman Trial. One of those things is as important to me as the actual verdict. How to survive an encounter with someone like George Zimmerman is a discussion that needs to be had. It’s not far from teaching a kid to not look White people in the eye. It’s not even that far removed from Vagrancy Laws or The Fugitive Slave Act. I may be reaching for sensationalism, but please hear me out. If you are a young Black male and you are in an area outside of your artificial environment, outside of your comfort zone, somewhere in which you are clearly a minority, you better damn well have a good reason for being there.

     There has always been a place in America for people who are overzealous vigilantes. These are the people that will go beyond the proverbial “call of duty” to prevent a crime from happening again. These people often say, “These assholes always get away with it.” So, with those words and that mentality, they begin each encounter with a chip on their shoulder. If you are Black, you are guilty. It’s as simple as that. The risk is far too great on their behalf to assume otherwise. Mind you, they are simply “cleaning” up their neighborhoods. You have to understand that before you understand anything else.

     So, when approached, the very first thing you should do is make yourself as small as possible. I don’t mean that you should literally shrink. I mean that whatever it is that makes you look like a threat, outside of your skin color, you should lose it. I, personally, whether right or wrong, take off my hat or hood when I enter convenient stores. This isn’t to make clerks feel safe. This is for me. I need them to know that I mean them no harm. When pulled over by police officers, I keep my hands in plain sight. Why; simply because way too many Black men are accidentally shot. I’ve even gone as far as calling my most responsible, articulate friend and putting them on speaker, just so they can hear the exchange.

     In neighborhoods, especially those that have recently had a string of robberies and or break-ins, I become proactive. I stay away from those places as soon as I realize that the sun is about to go down. There’s a place called Henager, Alabama that I drive through to get home and every single time that I do, my hands are at 10 & 2 on the steering wheel, my windows are rolled up, my doors are locked and my cruise control is on. I try to not to give anyone, of any kind of position, an opportunity to pull me over.

     People may read this and see it as overkill. “Every non Black isn’t a racist or even prejudice”, they’ll say. I UNDERSTAND THAT. I do, but my safety is a lot more important to me than being politically correct during these situations. I don’t think we realize that young slave girls that were becoming women were first “had” by their masters. They had no choice. Any and I do mean ANY good parent would mentally prepare their daughters for the horror of what was about to happen to them. That comparison is meant to be extreme because it needs to raise eyebrows.There is no excuse for failing to teach your children, no matter your race, about the worst possible scenarios of life.This is one of them.

     This is by no means an article about knowing your place as a Black man. It’s merely recognizing the place that you are in. You have to become one with your surroundings. Webster’s Dictionary is filled with words that prove my point. You need to assimilate. It could save your life. Don’t take my position literal. Take it in context of who I am and the world I live in. Soon, I’ll have to write about the lack of uproar when a Black man kills another Black man. Why isn’t Al Sharpton in “Chiraq”?

Album Drop

Thanks to music, Paula Deen and George Zimmerman, niggas have had an extremely interesting few weeks. 

Lets talk about music, though. J. Cole and Kanye dropped on the same day. That was a very bold, but smart move by Mr. Cole. We all know that you can't sell more than Kanye in the first week, but J. Cole's music and his fans gave him the 50 Cent like confidence he needed to embark on such an endeavor. Honestly, I like Born Sinner much more than I like Yeezus. Simply put, liking Yeezus more than Born Sinner is similar to not considering LeBron James great for non basketball reasons. It just doesn't make sense, but I digress. 

The next album up for discussion is Wale's The Gifted. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Maybe it does, but I didn't hear it. In a conversation with a friend, we each concluded that in order for us to return as Wale fans, he'll have to drop a Stillmatic type of album. He'll have to remind us that he made Attention Deficit. Dear Wale, we really want you to succeed. We want to be your fans. Help us out.

That leads us to the finale of my music rant. Jay Z finally dropped Magna Carta Holy Grail. Magna Carta Holy Grail...with an app. Say what you will about Jay Z, but you must admire his business sense. In sports, great players force rule changes. Some of the greats, i.e. the late Deacon Jones, even coined terms like "sack". That being said, a rapper sold $1 million units before his album dropped. The rules regarding the platinum status of records have been changed. A rapper is responsible for that. That's huge. It created a buzz so large, that at some point, it became an event. This album reminds you that Jordan came back to play for the Wizards and averaged 20 PPG. That's mediocre for a great player, but you still watched every game closely. Just like you listened to MCHG. Jay Z has branded himself much like MJ did. You might even say he's larger than rap. At any rate, his latest album is a perfect example of his current situation. He's rich. He's Black. He's from the projects. & he's forgiven for the latter two because he is good for business.

Black Boy

When I was in the 2^nd grade, I can remember a Mrs. Adams arguing on my behalf. She did something for me that I will never forget. She stood up for me. Could you imagine overhearing an argument between teachers in which one says, “I don’t know how to teach them.”?  Mrs. Adams always said that I was different from the others in my class and seemed to show me extra affection. At that age, I didn’t understand it then, but what a difference a year makes?

In 3^rd grade, I was in Heaven! We watched Ghostwriter and The Magic School Bus on Mondays and Wednesdays and on Tuesdays and Thursdays we watched Wishbone and Bill Nye The Science Guy. Learning was so much fun! Life was fun, period. Unknowingly though, I was in for the shock of my life. I had a best friend. He lived close by, rode the same bus and we even had the exact same pair of shoes. We talked a month about his upcoming birthday party and on the day he passed out the invitations, I was overlooked. I immediately asked where my invitation was. He looked at me with the most confused expression I’ve ever seen and replied, “You can’t come. My Dad says you’re black.” I was beginning to realize who I was from other people. That is the absolute worse way to find out.

My journey through the 4^th grade was horrible. I even felt different. In my mind I was an outcast, but I knew well enough never to let my actions show it. I attribute this to being an athlete. When you could beat someone at a game, you always had some sort of confidence and or acceptance. This school year was the most emotionally devastating. I remember being asked to my teacher’s desk along with two other black kids. She said in honor of Black History Month, she’d like to put our baby pictures on the bulletin board. I wish I was making this up.

The truth is that my struggle didn’t stop there. The first day of 7^th grade my teacher told me some of her favorite students have been black without provocation. All these things showed me how different the world is for many people. Whether it was ignorance, prejudice or just simply racism, it helped form my psyche. I’ve forgiven my wrong doers. I will never forget, though. How else will I teach my son or daughter correctly? This is not just a blog...Its reality. 

What Does Your Shirt Say...

     When Jason awoke he could feel a knot in his stomach. This feeling wasn’t new to him at all. He has felt this way every day of his life since his father disappeared. Well, to him, it felt like his father vanished. In reality, his father moved on to something else and only seen his son every other weekend. Each of those visits became more and more short. His father felt as though he was still in his son’s life, but what’s good for the father isn’t necessarily good for the son.

      He rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen. His mother and younger sister were already up and dressed. When he noticed his sister’s shirt he proceeded to kiss her on the forehead. It was almost like he was trying to preserve her innocence. His mom’s shirt prompted him to let her know that he had found a part-time job and that his midterm grades were fine.

      Shortly after breakfast, he went and had a long look in the mirror to decide what he was going to wear. It may sound vain, but there is a deeper meaning in the world that he lives in. The shirt that inspired his sister’s kiss read “Hope”, his mom’s shirt read “Assurance”. In Jason’s reality, your shirt says exactly what you need most in your life. So, it was no surprise that he decided to don his “Faith” shirt. He needed to be sure that he was making the best decisions for himself and his family.

      In our world, we see clothes as a status symbol, but what if we were all Jason? If you read “Help” on someone’s chest, would you give them the shirt off of your back? I’d like to think I would. Then again, I could be just blogging….

Either Way...

     I see God in as many things as I see Satan in. My only hope is that I'm able to see the difference in the things that make me feel better and the things that actually make me better. There are so many quick fixes in life. Let's call them highs. You reach that high for the first time and you'll spend your entire life chasing that feeling. At the end of it all, your life is filled with regrets. You'll either say that you wished you would have done more or that you wished you hadn't done something. These are the things we attribute to Satan or the demons inside of us. On the other hand, there are moments that shape you permanently and for the best. These things, unlike the highs, actually keep us grounded. These are the situations that break negative life cycles. God allows us to see the beauty in life no matter the situation. Instead of regretting, you'll mostly likely be proud of all that you have accomplished and appreciate what you've been able to attempt. Happiness is found in either, but only sustained in God. Make no mistake about it. I'm no preacher. I'm just a believer who has a blog.