Tag: black

Writer’s Quote Wednesday – Throwing Words

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Hey there loves, Welcome to another Writer’s Quote Wednesday Edition with Colleen of Silver Threading. I thought it would be fun to surprise her with a cartoon of us together since she got me so addicted to them.

Now, in other news, who’s throwing words tho?

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Whew, he said that.

There were lots of quotes I wanted to use from Richard Wright’s “Black Boy”, but I enjoyed this one the most as appropriate for Writer’s Quote Wednesday. I love Wright’s description of hurling words into the darkness and waiting for an echo because I think that is something all writers do. If we see light as symbolic of truth, of awakening, and of hope, then to throw our words into the darkness is to send hope out into the world. If someone responds, someone who has perhaps awaited this moment for some time, if that person responds, they are the echo that justifies the need for this light. They are the people who validate that the writing is not in vain and gives authors a kind of heads up that it is OK to throw more words out into the darkness. It is not from the perspective of writing specifically to be heard or writing for validation. The heads up instead informs us that there are others who are in need of the power these words have to offer.

About Black Boy

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Most of us are all familiar with Richard Wright by now (and if we aren’t Google is a gem) so I thought I’d give history on “Black Boy” instead, Wright’s Memoir.

From: http://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/b/black-boy/book-summary

 

 

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(clearing throat) yes these are cliff notes, don’t judge us:

“Black Boy”, an autobiography of Richard Wright’s early life, examines Richard’s tortured years in the Jim Crow South from 1912 to 1927. In each chapter, Richard relates painful and confusing memories that lead to a better understanding of the man a black, Southern, American writer who eventually emerges. Although Richard, as the narrator, maintains an adult voice throughout the story, each chapter is told from the perspective and knowledge that a child might possess. Yet, because the narrative is told with such force and honesty, the reliability of Richard’s memories is not questioned. By the story’s end, as Richard comes of age, the voice of the narrator and of the nineteen-year-old young man he has become merge into one.”

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And that’s it for this weeks segment. See ya next week 🙂

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Sandra Bland & Black Hypocrisy

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I know, I said I was resting. I also said I was a workaholic. I am resting but before I dig in deep and disconnect from the internet, I thought I’d give you something to ponder over the weekend.

What kind of woman was Sandra Bland? Can anyone tell me? Did she pray often? Did she love those around her? Who was she? Personally, I don’t know.

I’m always saddened by the deaths of anyone and the things I see taking place within the black community. However, what annoys me is when black people allow themselves to be driven by emotion and disregard common sense. It has been said that she was dead in her mugshot, for instance. Have any of you ever seen a dead body or a rotting corpse? Have you examined lifeless bodies or studied the difference between someone living or dead? How then do you know what kind of state the woman was in when she was photographed? Must we ignore the marijuana they found in her system or is she automatically granted immunity for being black? We have turned Sandra Bland into a hero, even though no one can tell me what kind of woman she was.

How do we know for certain that she didn’t kill herself? Is this conclusion a result of a personal study or are we making decisions off pure emotion? Maybe she was murdered or maybe she committed suicide but what does it mean?

It’s sad, of course. How can it not be? But the question black people should be asking themselves is why? Why do these things continue to happen to you of all people?

Why is there a greater outcry against the killing of Cecil the lion than the death of one of yours? We are killed in the streets every day. Why are you continually treated like less than a human being?

These are the kinds of questions we should be asking ourselves, not whether or not Sandra Bland killed herself. The question is not if she did it or not, the question is….why?

I am not without compassion, but I cannot allow my emotions to surpass the truth. It’s hard to sit back and watch your people die but this woman did nothing to be considered a heroine of mine. I don’t know what her life was like to be granted that title or to make that kind of a decision.

You see the truth of the matter is that a lot of people are unconscious, especially within the black community. We have no idea of what’s going on around us or in front of us. We have no understanding of who we are, who we are not, and why as a result it has led to our position or lack thereof in this land. We continue to be slaughtered in the streets under the rule of a black skinned president but you’ll hear nothing about that. Funny how dark skin can deceive dark skinned people. Blinded by the hypocrisy  we cannot see the truth for what it is. Many of you, because you wear the title of African American, completely disregard any wickedness that comes from your blood line and the consequences that happens as a result of that disobedience. This woman is filled to the brim with weed but this is your Queen. I am not Sandra Bland’s judge and her death is sad, but she has done nothing for me to admire. Oppression is real but many of you are blind to the part that you play in that same oppression. This too is futility and it is hypocrisy.

Deu 28:20 “YAH sends on you the curse, the confusion, and the rebuke in all that you set your hand to do, until you are destroyed and until you perish quickly, because of the evil of your doings by which you have forsaken Me.

Yours, Not Mine

“What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham: your boasted liberty, an unholy license: your national greatness, swelling vanity. Your sound of rejoicing is empty and heartless. Your denunciation of tyrants brass fronted impedance; your shout of liberty and equality, hollow mockery. Your prayers and hymns, sermons, and thanksgiving, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are to him, more bombast, fraud, deception, and hypocrisy–a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of the United States, at this very hour.” – Frederick Douglass, July 5, 1852

Movie Night Friday – Boyz N The Hood

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Welcome back to another Movie Night Friday, where I tell you about my favorite movies and why I love them. If you like the movies too, feel free to comment why you love them.

So today we’re looking at Boyz N The Hood, one of the best hood movies ever made.

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John Singleton’s Directorial debut, Boyz N The Hood, released in July of ’91, is a Coming of Age Drama surrounding the life of three black men growing up in South Central LA, and starring some of the best black actors to date: Lawrence Fishburne, Ice Cube, Cuba Gooding Jr., Angela Basset, Regina King, and a young Nia Long, and Morris Chestnut. In fact, this was Ice Cube and Chestnut’s first movie debut.

99983 After his many troubles in school, a young Tre (Desi Arnez Hines II) is sent to live with his father Furious Styles (Fishburne) by his mother Reva (Basset) in the Crenshaw neighborhood of South Central. His father, one of the reasons this became one of my favorites, instills in Tre the life lessons and values many of his young friends do not have. In fact, as Tre reunites with his childhood friends, Darrin “Doughboy”, his brother Ricky and Chris, their mutual friend, his lessons in manhood take on new meaning and his decisions become critical. His friends do not have the privilege of a positive father figure and are drawn to the streets for guidance. Furious therefore warns Tre about following in their footsteps but despite his warnings, older Tre (Cuba) and his friends have their own way of surviving. In this Teen Hood Drama, loyalty and danger dance too close for comfort, and dire situations force Tre to decide for himself the future he wants.

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Trailer:

Funny Movie Mistakes:

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In the scene where Lawrence Fishburne hooks up Cuba Gooding Jr.’s fade, he never actually cuts any hair, but then demands that Cuba clean up the mess after he is finished.

LOL!

Watch the movie and see if you can spot the knot!

The Conscious 70s

You better speak Michael …the conscious 70s, gotta love it. You don’t see truth in TV shows like this no more. A black family living in the projects with a man who ruled his household well and whose wife, while opinionated, still submitted to his authority. JJ was over the top yes, but his sons were not drug dealers and his daughter was not pregnant.That’s saying a lot considering the circumstances of their environment.

I Understand

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As if I had not awakened
from a slumber of lies
baptized in tradition’s rebellion
As if I had not been unplugged
From the matrix of deception intoxicated by the signs of the times
I finally understand
As if you had not left prophecies etched on the calcium of my bones
Like you didn’t leave your footprints in the sand drenched blood
dripping from the curse of our ancestors lips
Like you didn’t carve your every scripture into my very skin
like a big brothers reminder that there is always a rainbow above our father’s head
And above your sister’s head
When it rains
I understand now
You see Endurance
the prominence
comes like a splashing dose of faith
like a car accident that knocks me off my feet
and kills me
I get it
18 years later
The irony
Of life and death
finds itself a home in this house of poetry
scattered somewhere across Yahoshua’s piercing skin and these broken bones
for this I know
somewhere between the compassion of Moses intercession, the call of John’s cry
to the forgiveness of my wretched sins
They mock you more than they did back then
today
Though you chose to wear the bravery of our lustful scars upon your skin
Your narrations written a thousand times greater than the stars
that your faith taught us never to put our trust in
cause milky ways never shed its blood for us
I swear
Of all the times I daydreamed in childhood
I never saw chocolate fall like snowflakes of obedience hammered to nails
Cause Cocoa beans never gave itself for me
But your salvation’s never been a fairytale
But they mock you now
As they did back then
And sell your story for gold encrusted tithes
they don’t know why
or what it’s like for a father to give birth to a son
For salvation to give birth to the sun
You are a millions times braver
Than the best solider and your skin shines brighter
Than the sympathy beating inside the chest of broken legs and wounded body parts
You are far braver than one trillion purple hearts
Or bleeding pens on the white paper of a soldier’s goodbye
deaths footprints on cold caskets
we should be ashamed
cause we value metaphors and similes like the colors of picnic baskets with healthy fruit
but there ain’t enough poems about the day they hung you
the burnished brass of your skin tone and the wooly texture of your hair
centuries before we knew what a lynching was
but at least we understand
that you was, and you are
and you will be
this
I do understand