Where is your Joy?

The purpose of this blog post is simply to share something that I received this past weekend during Mother's day at church.  Now, most people who know me know that I tend to talk about life issues in many ways...sometimes secularly and sometimes in a religious sense.  This post will touch a little of both.

The message Sunday was one in a series of sermons about the Fruits of the Spirit, and this week, Pastor Simmons discussed Joy. It was a follow-up sermon to his discussion on Love the week before, and he tied both concepts together beautifully (and in under 20 minutes.) As he spoke, I felt that mostly everything that was said applied to me, and therefore, I will share with you what I got out of the sermon in hopes that if you need to hear it to, you will at this point.

Joy vs. Happiness

Pastor Simmons spent a major portion of the lecture discussing the difference between joy and happiness. (Paraphrasing) He defined happiness as something that is tied into the tangible...that is, attached and dependent on people, places, possession, and status.  He spoke of how we often feel like we are happy when we obtain the things of this world, but that the things of this world devalue at times, and that our happiness can fluctuate with this process.  People will inherently fail us, we inherently get bored with possessions...ultimately, happiness can change from one moment to the next.

Joy, however, is something that relies not on the external environment (your loved ones, friends, possessions, etc.) but on your internal environment (your spirituality, faith, and divine connection.)  He described how joy will allow you to maintain peace and happiness even when the things of the world fail you.  Ultimately, if joy is sought, it won't fail you because it is tied to the intangible, which rarely fails you.

As I listened to this, I began to think about the things that bring/brought me "happiness" and I realize that it was exactly what had been happening with me in my life.  I would often tie my friendships and relationships to my happiness. (For me, possessions, status, and other superficial things were never really apart of what I valued highly.)  This at times was to a fault, and as he spoke, I could directly tie the darker points of my life and my happiness to an inherent flaw in human nature and how those people who I invested so much of my happiness into were only doing what was bound to happen anyway. Now granted, that doesn't excuse anyone for anything that happened if it was their fault, but it does put into perspective how much power I gave those individuals over my happiness.  This was something that I needed to hear, and it couldn't have come at a better time.

Happiness in Others

Another aspect that hit me as I listened to Pastor Simmons was the notion that it is truly unfair for us to put so much of our happiness and perceived "joy" into other  people. Now, this wasn't part of the sermon, but I began to realize that the pedestal that we place people on in our lives is sometimes undeserved, but in many cases, unwanted.  When you elevate humans to a level above human in your life, you essential place the burden of YOUR happiness on THEIR shoulders.  Granted, people should not try to hurt others in life, and making loved ones happy is something we all should want to do. But if we allow someone else to define so much of our happiness, we are asking them to fulfill a job to which they may not be equipped.

Sidenote: Now before I get jumped on, I am not saying that we shouldn't have expectations, nor should we communicate our desires and wants in relationships with family/friends/mates/etc.  But what I am saying is that we can't let something as personal as our happiness be dictated by whether or not those people are doing what WE want them to do or if they are in the constraints of what WE need for happiness.  Our happiness should be invested into something a bit more foolproof than human nature.

This all hit me like a ton of bricks...a ton of enlightening, insightful bricks.(And all in under 20 minutes. Take that, COGIC church.)


Seeking Joy

From here, my goal is to seek joy...that is, to seek the peace and happiness that comes from understanding myself, my faith, and my spirituality rather than the happiness that comes from the things and people of this world.  How to do that?  Well, that is going to take some soul searching, since it is only Tuesday and the message was given Sunday.  But I do know that from this point on, I will try my best to delve deeper into the things that are of substance in my life and that are meant to provide joy.  It will be a long road, but I am glad that I am finding this out at at the age of 29 instead of 79.

Happiness is fleeting, but joy is long lasting.  I hope that you and I both can find that joy that will provide us the longstanding happiness we all deserve.

The 7 D.E.P. Chronicles: Coming Through in the Clutch

*Juke walks to the jukebox, and selects a classic R&B jam...What's On Tonite by Montell Jordan.*

One of the things that I can truly say about my LBs is that we always supported each other in almost any and every endeavor imaginable...even if it wasn't the most honest endeavor possible.  This brief statement sets up the not-so-innocent encounters that will be discussed below. Once again, aliases will be used to avoid incriminating the guilty. *Awkward silence*

So in undergrad, our chapter had two houses: an official fraternity house where we would have events and brotherly functions...and an unofficial frat house that was for special purposes.  And by special purposes, I mean dates.  As it turned out, around the time that we were moving into the official frat house, Black Ice (my LB) was assisting his older brother (henceforth designated as Chevrolet Jenkins, or CJ) move into a brand spanking new crib of his own, which I often call the Hoodrich Hideaway.  This crib was laid too...big screen TV in the den with 2487 channels (of which 4 of them were porn channels), soft couches, playstations, weight lifting gear, four brands of condoms, a kitchen that was ALWAYS STOCKED with chicken and liquor, and most of all...a surround sound system that would rival any concert hall or venue.  In short, this was the ultimate bachelor pad, and made a great place for those "Let's chill" dates that undergraduates seem to go on nowadays.

*PAUSE*

Sidenote: At what point did we, as a people, decide that "chilling" was a viable dating activity?  I mean, at the time, I guess it was economically feasible, but I still hear about dudes 30+ still asking girls out on dates to just "chill."   Just curious...

*PLAY*

Chevy and I ended up being close like brothers as well, since we often chatted and hung out at the Hoodrich Hideaway. So for a few months in the fall of 2002, he would loan me the key to go to the crib whenever I had a date but lacked the funds to go out to the movies and such.  It was a great set-up, and honestly, since it was free, it really was a benefit to the strengthening of those undergrad dating relationships. (Think about it like this...now, money was never an excuse for not being able to show your lady a good time.)

Well, as Christmas rolled around in 2002, the most miraculous thing happened.  In a ritual that is only rivaled by the Skull and Bones, I was entrusted with the most precious of all prizes...my very own key to the crib. It was as if the clouds in the sky parted and the heavens had descended on my very flesh. This was a monumental moment, and one that I can remember as if it was yesterday.  To this day, I count that as one of the top three gifts I have ever received on earth, with the gift of life and the love of my parents being numbers 1 and 2.

Over the course of a few relationships, the HH became a mainstay in my repertoire of dating.  Most of the time, it was just to hang out and chill...maybe a little making out of sorts. (Okay, some DNA was left there, but hey, what's done is done...don't judge me.)  But there was one particular day that really stands out for me, and if it wasn't for the help of my LB Black Ice, I would have been left on stuck.

Let me paint a picture:  The young lady was one who commanded respect from all the brothas who knew her.  She was beautiful, smart, and most of all, a woman in every essence of the word.  All of this at the tender age of 21. (At that point, she was young enough to have faith in her standards.  I wonder if she is the same way now at 27. LOL).  So when she showed a little interest in me, I knew that I needed to step my game up a few notches.  But a brotha was short on funds...

This would take a little ingenuity.

So she and I talked on the phone, and she said that she would like to hang out with me.  She wanted to go out to eat so that we could chat and get to know each other.  Of course, financial aid hadn't dropped yet, so that was going to be a squeeze on the finances. My plot began to develop.

Anyone who knows me knows that my mouth often writes checks that my ass has to work double time to cash.  As she talks about the date, I instantly say ,"Why go out to eat when you can let me cook for you at my crib?"  Immediately, you should see two things wrong with this scenario: 1) I don't have my own crib, I just have a key to the HH, and 2) I can't boil water, let alone cook.  But when you are in the heat of the moment, you can't let little things like honesty stand in the way of a good date, right? *Awkward silence*

"So you know how to cook, eh?  I like a man in the kitchen."

"Well then, you are going to love me."

^^^Those words right there sealed my fate.

I set up the date for a day when Chevy would be at work so that I can give the impression that it is my house that we were in. (Now, granted, at 21 she probably should have asked more questions about how I could afford a house as a full time undergraduate student, but you know what?  We aren't going to worry about that right now...she bought it, and I kept it straight.)  I went over ahead of time to try and cook up something, but no one ever told me that you have to do stuff like clean the chicken, or grease the pans, or stir the Kool-aid.  In short, every attempt I made failed and I had only an hour and a half left before she was due to arrive.

Time to lean on the shield.

Black Ice, on the other hand, is a man with exquisite culinary skills.  If you name it, he can probably cook it.  I called up the big homie, and to my rescue he came.  That's what real brothas do...they support you in your recklessness. 

BI whipped up some of the best homemade lasagna that you could have ever imagined.  I mean, this was so good, it coulda been on the menu at Olive Garden.  By the time he finished saving my ass, the house was filled with the aroma of Italian herbs and spices.  But I didn't make him do ALL the work...I made the soda.

Finally, when everything was finished, he gave me a few instructions on how to serve the food, we shook hands, and he departed...five seconds before my date arrived.  Thanks to the help of my LB, the date was phenomenal, we really enjoyed each others company, and she and I had a romantic evening that ended with movies, cuddling, and an innocent sleep on the couch into the morning.

And in a week's time, the relationship was over.

This story is to serve multiple purposes.  First, it is my way of paying tribute to a fine institution, the Hoodrich Hideaway, and the history and legacy contained therein.  If I had my way, it would be on the registry of historical landmarks, but the government keeps denying my requests. (Something about "This nigga is trippin'" or something like that was said, but I can't quite remember.)  Many other stories could be discussed about the place, but this one is the one that sticks out for me.

Secondly, this story is to honor two noble and great gentlemen whose undying service to the community can be seen through the history of the HH.  Chevy Jenkins and Black Ice win the coveted "Come Thru In The Clutch" award for their diligence and promptness in ensuring that my dates went off without a hitch.  I am honored to have them on my team.

Lastly, ladies...if you don't see him cook the meal, then it doesn't count.  Since then, I have learned to cook a few items here and there, and I am upping my husband potential.  But there was a time where I talked a mean game, and Black Ice was there to back it up. 

Brothers...always coming through in the clutch.

*End Scene*

The 7 D.E.P. Chronicles: The Curious Case of Pretty Rickie

*Juke walks up to the band leader and requests a selection.  The song: Untitled (How Does It Feel) by D'Angelo.*

This story is one that is built on the strength of our confidence as both a line and as the Delta Delta chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha.  The participants have been aliased in order to protect the privacy of those in question (since we may wanna run for office one day.) 

Greek life is a societal undertaking that can be both a blessing and a curse.  In the right hands, the title of frat/soror can be a unifying experience, but in the wrong hands, it can be a detriment to the esteem of the whole institution.  On occasion, the difference between the right hands and the wrong hands depends on the situation, as many members of the BGLO system have been on both sides of this coin.

It is understood, however, that when you become a member of a BGLO, that you carry the name and esteem of that organization with you, and therefore, your decisions should be based on the fact that this is most definitely the case.  However, depending on the situation, the leniency of what is unsavory may vary.  One place where leniency tends to be giving in larger doses...

STEPSHOWS!

Now don't get me wrong.  A good stepshow should always represent the respect and admiration that has been bestowed in the participants by the chapters they represent.  Good stepshows are exercises in theatrics, precision, team work, a few dances, and occasionally, something slightly provocative for the opposite sex (within the realms of good taste.)

The last quality is the one where this story will develop.

So Fall 2002 was the very first Homecoming stepshow for 7 D.E.P.  Our deuce, who will go by the alias T.P., was the stepmaster, and honestly, should have been the stepmaster for any and all movies regarding this delicate art.  Simply put, your stepmaster can't top T.P. on his worst day, and I promise that he didn't pay me to say that.  Starting that summer, T.P. and our prophytes went to work developing a stepshow that would be different from anything that ASU had ever seen.  And as members of the step team, we had a short time to catch up to the stepping curve.

The months of August and September were devoted to developing this show.  The team practiced hard four times a week, since we were basically instructed to practice that much or leave the team.  But you know what?  Winners do what it takes to win, so we practiced our asses off.  Additionally, we went into endurance training to ensure that we don't tire on stage so that we could give a fully energetic performance.

I don't have to tell you that we won the step show.  The show was based on the coming of The Rapture, as foretold in the Bible.  The show was amazing.  Hardcore stepping, spirtual music, and an overall uplifting theme made the audience feel spiritually revived and our advisors relieved. (They honestly always get on edge before shows since they don't always know what we plan on doing before we do it.) 

Now that was a serious show, but anyone that knows 7 D.E.P. knows that we love to have fun and can clown with the best of them.  We had another show in two weeks, but the crowd at that show, we knew, would not be the dignified, uplifted crowd that we performed for at ASU.  These would be n*ggas...in every sense of the word.  Yet, we wanted that money for the chapter, so we went with it.

The theme of the show changed to something more comical.  We did a Gorillas in the Mist theme...sure, it is a little hackneyed, but it was meant to be fun, and we made sure it was. The steps were just as crisp as they were in the very first show, and we were so used to doing them that I STILL remember the entire show 8 years later. 

But something was missing...

We had to do something for the ladies. In the homecoming show, we were able to get around it because it was a Biblically-themed show. (Besides, who wants to go to hell for slow grinding in a gospel stepshow? Not us...)  But this crowd would not be as forgiving if we didn't give the women something to remember.

We devised a nefarious plot. It was one that hinged on the audacity of ignorance...steeped in the courageous efforts of one man and one man only...his name is Pretty Rickie.

Now anyone that knows Pretty Rickie knows that he is a dude of impeccable swag. I hate that word, but sometimes, you have to use what is the best term to describe the situation, and Rickie embodies that.  But this plan was something that even he, in all his swagacity, had to be nervous about.

The show started off as planned.  We were stepping hard and precise.  The crowd loved us...especially since some other group in Blue and White had bored them prior to our show. (I think they were Crips, but don't quote me on that.)  The crowd was into us, and we were giving them their money's worth.

Then it was showtime for Pretty Rickie.

The lights went dim, and the DJ cued the music.  Our plan: to re-enact the D'Angelo "How Does It Feel" video, but with Rickie as the spotlight. And just to give you an idea of where this is going...

This is D'Angelo...

This is Pretty Rickie...


Yeah, we went there. Clearly you can see the resemblance.

So the female gorilla (played by the beautiful and vivacious Nikkie L.) came on stage and saw an oiled up Pretty Rickie standing on stage in nothing but a towel.  The audience laughed hysterically.  As PR sung the song, you could see the old women in the audience reaching in their bras for tips to throw on stage and hear the laughter that spread through the entire scene.

Then, he dropped the towel.

Now of course, we didn't let him stand naked on the stage.  We put a large "CENSORED" sign in front of him, which only added to the hysterics. (And he had on some shorts behind the sign...we weren't THAT crazy.)  By now, the entire crowd was rolling with laughter.  In fact, it took everything we had on stage not to laugh as well.

Needless to say, that solidified our win.  We won the show hands down, and to this day, we still get people asking us, 'WHY?"

I will never understand how we, as a team, decided that this was okay, nor will I ever understand how we were able to talk PR into doing the unthinkable.  But in the end, it was one of those moments that we will never forget. So if you should ever see any member of 7 D.E.P., make sure to ask about the Case of Pretty Rickie and the Stepshow hijinx.  They would love to tell the tale.

Thank GOD YouTube was not out back then...

*Dropping the mic*

The Convenience of Truth

Three scenarios:

First scenario-A radical militant group in the US sends a warning to the government that if they do not meet the demands of the group, an attack will be staged that will kill the lives of many innocent citizens.  The government chooses not to negotiate with the group, and subsequently, they attack the residents of the closest metropolis.  The militants later release a statement saying that the government should have listened, and that the blood of the innocents will forever be on the hands of the government.

Second scenario- A serial killer has locked a victim in a vault with a limited air supply.  The police are questioning him about the victim trying to save her, and he tells them to do as he says or she dies.  When the police refuse to play along, the victim dies.  The serial killers response...I tried to tell you to simply do as I say, but you didn't listen.  It's your fault.

Third scenario- A guy tells the woman he is dating that he loves her and wants to be her boyfriend, but he has to confess that he has been seeing more than one woman. She says okay, and sticks around, waiting for him to cut ties with the other women.  Finally, he approaches the woman and says, "Though I love you, I think I may want to be with this young lady over here.  I know you are hurt, but at least I told you...so you had a choice."


In these three scenarios, three common themes occur: someone is manipulating another party through the use of emotion and/or fear, someone in the end gets hurt, and ultimately, the offending party feels that telling the truth (or giving a warning) was enough of a justification to absolve said party of the responsibility.

Now I know that the first two scenarios seem to be in a far different category than the third scenario, especially when you compare a broken heart to innocent lives being lost.  But technically, is there really much of a difference in terms of the mindset that led to each of these outcomes?  I dare say no.  The notion that revealed truth can somehow negate any responsibilities associated with that truth is a notion that many of us utilize out of convenience, but we rarely think about the true magnitude of our actions until we are on the other side.  And thus, we often hurt others under the pretense that we provided ample warning, so the results of the situation are not our responsibilities.

Now I propose that we look deeper into what really happens with these situations.

The Telling of the Truth

Telling the truth is a practice that is highly touted in our society.  We admire people who are able to be honest and forthcoming with their feelings and deeds. Even as children, we are taught to tell the truth in order to be a better person, and though many of us stray from that at times, it is something that most people have a moderate capacity to do.

However, the motive behind your truth telling has to be equally as noble.  Case in point:  When Mike decided to "tell the truth" in Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married, it was clear that his intention was not to tell the truth in order to bring about good, but to cause drama amongst the people at the table.  His truth, then, lacked the nobility of being of pure intention.  Same goes for when we tell the truth. If we are telling the truth for the sake of honesty and purity, then it is a noble cause.  If we are telling the truth in order to gain an advantage or absolve ourselves of responsibility, then we are no better than the person who lies to do the same thing.  We have to assess our overall purpose behind what we do, even if it is a traditionally good deed.

The Recipients of Truth

I remember when I was in undergrad, and a young lady expressed interest in me.  She was sincerely interested in me because she felt I was a good man with a good heart, and that was important to her.  I mentioned to her that I wasn't ready for a relationship.  She said she understood.  We kicked it for months on end, doing things that couples do, and she was happy.  But when I finally decided I was ready for a relationship, I decided to go with someone new.  She was crushed, and in my mind, I did my due diligence by letting her know that I wasn't ready, nor did I ever say that when I was ready, it would be her that I wanted. 

But now that I am older, I realized that I honestly took advantage of the situation that we were in.  The fact is, I enjoyed every benefit of having a woman who was into me without any of the responsibility that comes with treating her equally as important.  I knew she had feelings, and I knew that they were getting deeper by the moment.  So even though she heard my "truth," she didn't necessarily receive it. 

I know that common sense plays a major role in how we treat people and how those people allow us to treat them, but in retrospect, the honorable thing for me to do would be to distance myself from her until her feelings could subside.  Sure, she was partly responsible for pursuing me with full knowledge that I wasn't ready for a relationship.  But I also had equal blame by cultivating her feelings with my time, attention, and company during that period, all under the guise of being "truthful" and therefore not responsible for what happened to her feelings. 


The Convenience of Truth

So what is it that I am proposing?

My overall goal with this post is to simply put it out there as plainly as I can...simply telling the truth to someone does not negate the responsibilities that come with the subsequent chain of events if 1) you don't tell the honest truth with honest intentions and 2) if you let the recipients of your truth continue to walk down a path that you know will allow them to be hurt.

So in telling the truth, we need to take time and assess the method by which we tell the truth, the rationale and purpose behind our truth-telling, and the reaction that comes from the truth being told.  It is not sufficient to speak honestly if we know that we are only doing so to assuage our own guilt but allowing the other parties involved to continue to be fooled in the process. It is up to us to take it an extra step, and in doing so, we can truly do right by those who are the recipients of our truth and, in a bigger context, remain true to the honesty that we were attempting to display.

This is merely my opinion...I could always be wrong.

The 7 D.E.P. Chronicles: The Thrilla That Is Gorilla

*Juke searches through the catalog of songs on his jukebox.  There it is...the perfect song: Ludacris's "Move B*tch.*

If you are an Alpha in South Georgia, you know two things: 1) You will be investigated for hazing, regardless of whether you are really hazing and 2) you earn your stripes by going to Gorilla Thrilla in Valdosta, Ga.  What is Gorilla Thrilla, you ask?  Well, I will tell you.

Gorilla Thrilla is pre-eminent party event of the Alpha calendar in Southern Georgia.  Every year, the brothers of VSU put together the crunkest, nakedest, and sweatiest party that the world has ever seen. Simply put, the party is legendary, and if you haven't been to one, it needs to be on your bucket list. And since Mu Omicron is a brother chapter of sorts with my undergraduate chapter, we make it a point to attend the event every year. 

A few things you can count on at Gorilla Thrilla:

1) Every dude will get a lap dance or a slow hunch against the wall.  It is inevitable.  I am so glad YouTube was not big when I was in college.

2) Most of the women, with the exception of the sorors and the upperclassmen, would be naked.  As an example, one year, some girls came to the party in dresses made of saran wrap and pasties.  Yeah, that naked.

and 3) Somebody's ass would get whooped (typically a local or a football player).

Now considering numbers one and two, it doesn't make sense for dudes to get mad enough for number three to happen. But that is when we must remember that the ones fighting typically aren't gentlemen...these are the REAL N*GGAS!

And so our story begins...

It was Gorilla Thrilla 2002 (or 2003...they all blur together after 8 years of attending).  The atmosphere at Rick's nightclub was filled with debauchery and no-goodness, and it was right up our alley. As soon as we walked in, we went straight to the cage area, where we were greeted by the most supple of freshmen women.  The ladies were choosing, and we were all selected in the first round of the draft. (Damn shame that the other dudes had to take left overs, but hey...I told you 7 D.E.P. ain't bout them games.)

So about an hour into the lap dances, we decided to take a break and head to the lobby area to regroup. It was situated between the two club rooms, so we took a quick break there before heading back.

Or so we thought.

Well, as it turns out, a fight was brewing in the lobby area, and we walked right into the start of this fight. What followed was one of the most spectacular ass-whoopings ever seen on the eastern seaboard.

Most fights are usually a bunch of dudes throwing punches and stomping people out, but no real damage being done.  However, remember when I told you that these are REAL N*GGAS?  Yeah, well it showed in their fighting.  The fight was even (10 on 10) and everyone basically squared off into pairs to do battle.  One thing you can say about this fight...it was a fair one-on-one brawl. Oh you shoulda seen this melee...bottles upside the head...uppercuts to the jaws...it was phenomenal.

Just as Rickie and I thought we had seen it all...one dude in the crowd said "MOVE BACK!"

The entire crowd parted and made room.  As soon as the room was clear, the guy picks up the dude he was fighting, and powerbombs him from the top of a couch through a table.  I couldn't make this up if I tried.  A full-out "Pearl River Plunge" type powerbomb through a standard wood table.  The entire crowd looked on in amazement...even the other people who were fighting.

After going through the table, surprisingly, the dude stood back up and tried to get his bearings.

That's when he caught a chair to the back of the head.  Seemed like overkill, but I have to admit that it did add icing to the top of an already spectacular cake.

Now you may be asking...where was security in all of this?  Security was trying not to get their asses kicked during the fight, so they took their time breaking this one up. (See, whereas you saditty people may be used to having trained security at your clubs, down here in S. GA, we just get the biggest football players that need extra money and they now become security.  Sometimes it works...sometimes it doesn't.  The next story will cover the latter.)

The weirdest thing about it all was...EVERYBODY WALKED AWAY FROM THE FIGHT.  No ambulance needed, no one went to jail.  Everyone got tired of fighting, called it quits, and walked out of the club unharmed.  I promise you, if this was a YouTube video, it would have gotten a million views in the first week alone.  We were in such utter disbelief that we had to deal with our shock the best way we knew how...we went back to getting lapdances. (And those young ladies waited patiently for our return. So if you are reading this, we thank you for being so understanding.)

To this day, we still don't understand how a fight of that magnitude could end so peaceably, but one thing is for certain...Gorilla Thrilla lived up to its name. 

Join me next time for part 2 of the Gorilla Thrilla tales...it involves two cracked bottles of Moet and 10 GBI agents.

*And scene*

The 7 D.E.P. Chronicles: Cock Blockers Never Prosper

*Juke fires up the jukebox.  He selects track E:12...Jill Scott's "Hate on Me."*

Let me start by saying that there are three types of people that I feel should be locked away for life:

1) Pedophiles
2) Rapists
3) Cockblockers.

Now I know cockblocking may not seem as serious of an offense as the first two, and it isn't (which is why I placed it 3rd.)  But make no mistake, it is a capital offense, and should always be treated as such.  I hate when men feel the need to insult, shine on, or high post on other dudes in order to gain the attention of a woman.  I don't think this is something that has EVER happened in my line of 7 D.E.P. In fact, if anyone can think of a time where my line cockblocked on another dude...please, let me know. I will wait!

YOU CAN'T DAMN DO IT.  CAUSE WE DON'T LIVE BY THAT CODE.

However, sadly, there are bruhs that feel as though they need to do said activities in order to garner the attention of the female species.  This is a tale of such an activity.  The names have been changed to protect the guilty, but the people who know the dude will know immediately who the guilty party is.  In fact, it is safe to say that the cockblocker in question, hereby designated as "A.I.A.H.", has been proficient in his blocking that the entire frat should nominate him for the Outland Trophy.

It all started with a roadtrip.  Brian (who is my number 7, my homeboy, and probably the closest person to a brother that I have had in life) and I were heading to Macon to hang out with the AKAs of Fort Valley State University.  Now to explain, the bruhs and the Ks always have had and always will have a unique and special bond as Phirst Pham, and we as a chapter and a line tried to uphold that love wherever we went while in undergrad.  It served us well, and for that reason, we still have bonds and ties with these women (particularly in the state of Georgia) that is steeped in respect, adoration, and sincere love between brothers and sister.  So when the time came for the newest line of AKAs from the Alpha Beta chapter to host their first event, we were all in.

We arrived to Macon, and we were ready. Strolls together: check!  Fresh outfits: check!  Suaveness in place: check!  The game was official, and we were the star players.

So we walk in the club, and we see a swarm of beautiful ladies of AKA.  There were gorgeous, as to be expected but...

They were the only ones there.

Apparently, advertisement was not something that was covered prior to this event.  But being the good bruhs that we are, we decided to stay and get the party crunk with them.  And like true pham, they partied hard with just the two of us for a good hour and a half. 

At that point, about three more bruhs showed up from Atlanta, and we greeted them as we always do.  Two of the bruhs that arrived were bruhs that we kicked it with often, so we were geeked to get back up with em.  But that fifth muhfugga is the one that we don't vibe with. He is A.I.A.H.

A.I. stands about 6'4, and is an old head from like 95.  He is DeBarge beige, and you can tell when you meet him that he probably still has some light skinned entitlement issues based on his success in the 90s. So whenever he was around, he gave off an air of "You need to like me because I am khaki, I paid $200 dollars for this shirt, and my momma said so." (Of course, I am paraphrasing, but you get the drift.)

So the party progresses, and we are vibing with the sorors and sharing stories with them about our crossing.  As the party comes to a close, two of the sorors invite Brian and me back to Ft. Valley because they didn't want us to be on the road late. (See, Ethel would have been proud...that's love right there.) But as soon as she said those words, A.I. heard her and said, "Yeah, WE (as in the 7 of us) would love to come stay with y'all."

Now mind you, we had two different ideas of what was about to go down.  Brian and I wanted a place to crash...can't say the same for the others.

Just to help you do the math as we go through the following scenario:  There were 3 AKAs, 5 Alphas.  That leaves a surplus of two dudes, which meant that if pairing off was to occur, two people would have to take a loss.  Not a problem for Brian and I, since we weren't trying to get with them like that anyway.  But the problem with competition is that other competitors don't know when you aren't competing.  And thus, the battle for supremacy at whatever cost begins.

We hit up the Waffle House because WH is only good after 2 am and before 11 am.  As we get to the Waffle House, I tell my LB that after we eat, I am going to stay with another soror who I am cool with, so just take my car and call me in the morning.  He agrees, and we go in to meet with the ladies.

When we get into the restaurant, I hear someone ask a question.

"Who's blue BMW is that?"

Now as a point of clarification, my car is a 97 BMW with my name on the license plate.  Seeing as though I am the ONLY dude named John at the restaurant, it should have been obvious. But I indulged his inquiry.

"What's wrong?  Did I leave the lights on?"

"Is it your car?" he asked back sarcastically.

At this point, my bullshyt meter was going haywire! 

"Yeah, that's me.  What's up?"

This dude has the nerve to ask me, "How much did your daddy pay for it?"  Everyone in the restaurant stopped, including the girls, and the whole room fell silent.

"I paid for it myself with money saved from jobs." As I answered, the group began to ease out of the tension and start back talking.

"Are you sure you paid for it yourself?" he asks.

The tension gets restored.

Now at this point, I am kinda pissed.  It is obvious that he is doing this for the sake of the girls, since everytime he asks me a question, he makes eye contact with the soror sitting closest to me.  Super lame? Yes. Did it matter to him? Not a bit.

So I give him the "Gone for I hit ya n*gga" look and start eating my food.  I thought he was done with the questions, but I see him looking pensive, as if he really had more questions. 

He asks, " So what year is that?"

"It's a 97."

"Oh see, I can't do no less than a 2002, bruh.  I got to have the newest car out," he says to me, as if his 35 year old ass is doing something special by buying a new car.

"Well bruh, if I were to lease my cars, I'd be able to do a 2002 as well.  But I just prefer to own it and not have a bill."

Finally this shuts him up.

I call the soror I am staying with, and she comes to meet me.  When she gets there, I pay for my food and tell everyone peace.  A.I. just couldn't hold his peace.

"Hey bruh, where you going?  Can I come with you?"

Are you serious?  Like really...are you serious?  In my mind, I had all kinds of monosyllabic words of curse to share with him, but I kept my cool, and simply said NO.  He looked disappointed, but oh well.  I don't deal well with shiners, and he was trying to do just that.

My night was comfy.  Slept well, woke up to a good breakfast being cooked by a wonderful woman, and watched TV with her until I got the call. 

Apparently, when I left, he just shifted his hating focus to my LB. We spent the entire ride back discussing how much of a hater this dude really is.

The moral of the story is this: Fellas, there are too many women out here who want a good man for us to have to slit throats over one.  Furthermore, fraternity men need to understand that if a woman wants you, she will choose you...so don't cut down another man if you feel you won't be chosen.  It reeks of desperation.

The legend of A.I.A.H is one that every man should know, and is important for you as the reader, since his hating methods and trifling ways will be a recurring theme throughout the 7 D.E.P. Chronicles.  It's sad that people can get to be that way, but fortunately for the brothers of 7 D.E.P., we were blessed with the gifts necessary to prevail, no matter who the hater(s) may be.

Keep it pimpin'!

The 7 D.E.P. Chronicles: When Wingman Goes Wrong

*Juke puts a quarter into the juke box and selects a song worthy of this blog.  The song: Body and Soul by Anita Baker*

Greetings readers.

So I have decided to revamp my old blog and use it to release some creative energy.  I have had a lot on my mind lately, both good and not-so-good, that I feel I need to get on paper before my time expires.  So today, I present the first installment of the 7 D.E.P. chronicles.  I hope you enjoy.

Before I begin, maybe I should tell you what 7 D. E. P. is.  7 D. E. P. is the line name I share with six other men who, on Dec. 1st 2001, enter the brotherhood of Alpha Phi Alpha through the Delta Delta chapter at Albany State University.  The D. E. P. stands for De'phi'ant Elite Pharaohs, and I don't know if the prophytes knew exactly how accurate that name would grow to be, but we lived up to it.  To this day, we are still supportive and protective of each other, and I honestly couldn't have seen myself on a line with any other brothers other than these gentlemen.

WITH THAT SAID...These muthafuggas have gotten me into some major situations at times.  This especially applies to Rickie Frazier and Brian Dawson.  So these excerpts are my attempt to catalogue the memories that I share with these fellas and to share with you, the viewing audience, exactly how innocent I was before I started dealing with these dudes.

When Wingman Goes Wrong

Rickie (aka Black Ice, aka Big Rick, aka Pretty Rickie, aka Westside Pimpin') has probably been the one LB that I have roadtripped with the most...primarily because we didn't have shyt to do during our last year at ASU. So whenever there was a party to attend, we were there.  (See, the key to being a true scholar is the ability to enjoy life while learning...and we did that often.)

The Alphas at Ft. Valley had a party scheduled, and like any good brothers, we decided that we needed to be in that number.  We loaded up Rickie's truck and headed to the Valley in search of some ignorance and mayhem, and based on the previous track record with the Ft. Valley parties, we knew some good ol' hunchin' and maybe a few lap dances from the wonderful FVSU freshmen girls would be in order. (Don't judge...this was undergrad).

BOY WERE WE WRONG.

We got there, and there were 7 bruhs, a DJ, and 5 young ladies.  No dancing was going on.  None of the legendary hunching that usually accompanies the undergrad parties.  Just a bunch of empty space and sad faces.  But we drove an hour and a half to get there, so Rick and I decided to make the most of it.

As we walked through the party, I saw my LB stop dead in his tracks. There she was...the most beautiful young lady that (up to that point) he had ever seen. (As a side note, my LB is married now, so obviously, he found somebody more beautiful, but at the time, this was the pinnacle.)  As he gazed at her, their eyes locked, and for some reason I started hearing Strawberry Letter 22 by Brothers Johnson playing in the background.  It was something out of a movie of sorts.

Rick made his move towards the young lady, and they began chatting.  There was an instant connection, primarily because there were NO OTHER CHICKS to connect with.  Her name was Dee, and she was, in her words, "happy to see some sexy, suave, and debonair young men finally show up at the event. " (Of course I am paraphrasing, but it was something similar.) But beside every beautiful, attractive young lady is a hating ass friend that is always "ret to go."  And that is why you have a wingman.

*pause*
Lesson for the ladies:  Fellas have an understanding with each other that (unless the men are married or in serious relationships) we will play wingman for our homeboys in order to facilitate conversation.  This is in the Man's Handbook pg 4, section 2a: "How to deal with cockblockers."  Use that to your advantage next time your friend's watch is stuck on H8 o clock.
*play*

So instantly, I do what good brothers do...I take the friend to the side and begin chatting with her.  We start talking a bit, and I throw out the charm in order to make her feel better about being at this social gathering of picayune proportions. The understanding was that I would chat with her while Rick worked his magic. Overall, it should have been about 30 minutes at the most.

We start talking about the basics: she was Christian, a junior in college, really funny and smart...almost perfect. She was into me, and enjoyed the fact that besides being light-skint, bow-legged, and cute-faced...I also treated her with respect during this meeting.  Of course, as the time drew to a close, I started to wrap up the conversation by exchanging numbers with her.  This would signal to Rick that it was time to end things, and we could make our next move.

That's when I see this mf-er driving off with Dee, leaving me on stuck. 

With almost impeccable timing, the friend (which we will call Q) begins to tell me all the reasons why she is single. And believe me, the list was long.

Now I have a theory that crazy people KNOW they are crazy, and therefore have developed ways to hide it until the right time.  And for her, the right time was now, since I had no ride, couldn't leave, and had to listen to her chat.  She starts telling me how she was on two different anti-depressants to keep her mood elevated, how she always felt sheltered by her parents since they were preachers, and how God led me into her life that night for a reason.

I love God, but he and I gotta work on our communication, cause I did NOT get that memo.

I start getting edgy now because she is basically letting me know, in so many words, that at any moment she could mentally go bye-bye, and I wasn't sure that I was ready for that.  Well, the party ended at that time, and I was forced to sit in the car with her until Rick came back. (Incidentally, it was two hours before he actually came back.)  While in the car, I am trying to look straight ahead, and she is staring down the side of my face. 

So she asks me what kind of music I like.  I said Anita Baker.  Who knew that I just happened to be sitting next to the BIGGEST ANITA BAKER FAN ever.  And when I say the biggest fan, I mean, she was a member of the fan club, dues paid and all. Why the hell did I say Anita Baker?

For the next hour and a half, I was treated to a solo concert of all of Anita's greatest hits.  I didn't even realize Anita had that many songs, but I heard each and every hit.  It got so bad that she began to sing the ones that NO ONE REMEMBERS a capella.  All the while, I am sneaking to text Rick to tell him to bring his ass on, but of course, this was during the time of the old school Nokia phones, so there was no way that he would get the text in time.

Finally, this dude decides to come back.  I jump out the car, jump in his truck, wave to Q and Dee, and say "Rick, let's go."  I didn't say anything to this dude for about 30 mins into the ride home, but I was just glad to be done with the situation. (Or so I thought.)

For the next week, this girl called me every three hours of every day. I woke up to a phone call from her, ate breakfast with her calling. Lunch time...same thing.  I couldn't take it.  That's when I learned a valuable lesson: do not give out your phone number during the first conversation if you can help it. Like Chris Rock said, you are not meeting the real person...you are meeting their representative.

I tried ignoring her texts, but she would just call Rick and curse him out as a surrogate, and he would relay the message to me.  I tried ignoring her calls, but *67 is a powerful tool for blocking your number.  Finally, I told her to never call me anymore, and hung up. I didn't want to be mean, but clearly, the message was not being received.

To this day, I still wonder if she ever got the help she needed.  But I am glad that heifer left me alone.  Being a brother to your LBs has many perks, but every so often, you have to do somethings that you just simply wouldn't want to do.  With that said, I am glad Rickie found the love of his life and married her, cause I don't think I could survive another outing like this on his behalf.

When is Lying Permissible? (The Loss of Intellectual Integrity)

Disclaimer:This post is going to be the result of many different conversations, readings, and discussions that I have had over the course of the last year or so, and will reflect my discontent with the status of some of the current theories and legends that pervade our community under the auspices of being "truth." Viewer discretion is advised.

Okay, so my mouth gets me in a lot of trouble when it comes to debate and discussions. Part of it is that I tend not to argue unless I feel strongly about a point. The other part of it is, I usually come from a different angle, and because I am usually the dissenter amongst those with whom I debate, it seems as though I am argumentative...when in actuality, I just really don't agree with their point of view. (Shutting me up is hard to do...ask anyone who knows me. LOL)

Anyway, lately, I have had more than a few discussions about Urban Legends in the Black community and whether or not they are real or fake. The primary one has been Willie Lynch, and whether or not this speech, or even this person, ever existed. Here is the premise of the speech:

Willie Lynch was said to be a slave owner in the Caribbean who was said to have made a trip to Virginia to give a speech. In the speech, he supposedly outlines ways to separate slaves such that they would not have unity, and therefore, would be easier to control. The speech suggests pitting light/dark skin slaves against each other, old/young slaves against each other, etc. Using this method, masters could control slaves for centuries. (To read the speech in its entirety, just Google "Willie Lynch".) As a side note, he is credited with lending his name to the word "lynching," which once described hanging by noose.

Now you may be wondering what does this have to do with lying and intellectual integrity? Glad you asked...

I start by saying that I truly believe that this speech is a fake. Of course, that has been the controversial point of this speech since its surfacing in the 1990s, and the resurgence of it in the late 2000s. Many scholars from institutions such as the Freedmen's Institute, Spelman College, etc. have analyzed this document and ripped it to shreds on authenticity, truthfulness, and usefulness. Furthermore, on a personal level, it comes off to me as an attempt to enlighten Black people into a consciousness about the devices that divide us daily, but doing so in an adversely false way in an effort to goad Black people into changing their ways by giving us a historical person and reference to which we can attach this theory.

But my bigger problem is this...have we really come to the point where falsifying documents and history is acceptable if it encourages positive change? Is there a point where lying is a justified means to an end?

I feel as though the author of this speech has done a disservice to Black people, even if his/her intentions were the noblest. To be honest with you, the theory itself has some strong merit. We, as Blacks, tend to let some of the smallest things divide us and keep us from being a unified people. Skin color, financial success, education(and the lack thereof), etc. have all been used to functionally keep Blacks from pulling together as one and progressing more than we already have. We see evidence of this on a daily basis. But I think that this method of enlightenment plays on the ignorance that we are already trying to dispel, even though it may have been done under the premise of positivity. (Incidentally, I also think that this is the case with the notion that sagging pants is from the prison culture, that the "Black People Don't Read" letter is a hoax, and many other urban legends in Black culture.)

Black people are much more intelligent than that, in my opinion. Those who are educated (or semi-educated and anywhere in between) have a duty to use the education and intellectual capacity that they possess to elevate our people and our communities with integrity. Intentionally duping those who could benefit from the educated elite by generating inaccurate historical documents and facts, to me, does little more than perpetuate the hoodwinking of our own people. I think that people like the "author" of this speech don't give enough credit to the mental competence that almost all of us possess, regardless of if we actually use it.

My plea for us as Blacks is to do the following:

1. For those of us who are in a position to use our intelligence and education for uplifting our communities, that we do so with honor and integrity, using facts and theory appropriately to educate those who may not have the exposure/opportunity to experience the blessings of education as we have.
2. For those of us who are working towards increasing our intellectual power, please begin to read deeper than what is actually printed as truth. Cross-reference works/essays/authors/theories and try to understand the entire factual environment that surround each of these for yourself, so that you can make your own informed decisions about the truthfulness of these documents before you share them with others.

The history of Black people is colorful and rich...one that was born out of prosperity in Africa, pain in America, and spiritual growth through the course of our development. This history is one that should not be diluted, nor should it be tampered with, but rather should be shared with the masses in a way that promotes pride in ourselves and our struggles. This cannot be done effectively, however, if in the course of the intellectual distribution of this history, facts are skewed and intentionally altered in an effort to elicit an intended result. We owe more to our history and to those who shaped our history, and to ourselves than to interrupt that integrity through the means described above.

First Amendment Rights-Are We Losing Our Freedoms

Americans are entitled to free speech. This I have been told since I was a third grader learning my first history lesson. They even showed me proof...they showed me the Constitution. The one document that is to serve as the guideline for how all Americans are to be governed. Yes, as an American, I am entitled to free speech.

Or so I thought.

Turns out that free speech isn't necessarily free. Nor is it discounted in some cases. Nope...as Americans, we pay FULL PRICE for our abilities to say and do what we want. Sad, but true. We really do not control the words that flow from our mouths.

Today, I read Yahoo news, and I find out that five of the Falcons players were fined for their displays of solidarity with Michael Vick. Some to the tune of 10,000 dollars. Now, I know for them, this is a drop in the bucket for what they make, but seriously, the principle is what is being violated here. How can you tell a man that you can't verbally support a teammate during a game? How can you penalize someone for speaking their mind to uplift a downtrodden (albeit foolish) comrade?

Now grant it, freedom of speech should have some limitations. Hate speech should be governed, simply because the impact of those words have caused death, violence, and mayhem throughout the history of the US. Yelling "FIRE" in a movie theater is against the law since it could lead to mass frenzy and injury, even though it is just a word. Those types of rules, I understand. But the recent punishments handed down by the NFL simply blows my mind.

But this is the current trend I am seeing. It seems that different agencies/institutions/etc. have realized that the Constitution only applies to the government, but they don't have to offer that same service to their constituents. Examples include:

-Speaking out against improprieties and maltreatments in fraternities and sororities. It seriously sickens me that so many people can be thrown under the bus because they choose to speak out against things that they feel would BETTER the organizations they love. Of course, they label it as "conduct unbecoming of a member" but it really means "conduct that may expose our dictatorial control." (Of course, I am not referring to anyone group in particular, since all of the organizations I am familiar with aren't that vindictive towards members. *WINK*)

-School protests. To be honest, America swears that our generation doesn't have the gumption and the will to fight for what we believe, but as soon as we do, those same individuals are there to stifle our creative and intellectual minds. (As I write this, I hear the words "Don't Tase me Bro" echoing from Gainesville, FL.)

-Speaking out in the workplace. It amazes me how many people want to say something on their jobs or at the workplace about what is truly going on IN the workplace, but get fired or demoted once they do.

And there are countless other examples, but because I don't want to go into witness protection, I will stop here. But you get my point.

At what point are we going to act like adults? Adults understand that we can verbalize, express, and discuss varying points of view without threat of backlash or punishment. Adults realize that I may not agree with you and your ideas, but I respect and defend your right to say them. Adults believe that forward progression of any institution (be it schools, sports, or fraternal organizations) hinges on the abilities of individuals to be able to think and present those thoughts as rational ideologies that can help the future of said institution, whether the higher-ups agree or not. Definitely, adults wouldn't penalize or punish other adults for simply speaking their mind in a non-confrontational way. But then again, I suspect that being an adult nowadays simply refers to your age, and not your maturity.

Bottom line is... you are entitled to free speech, as long as no one can hear you!

Does Hip Hop Deserve the Flack that It Receives?

Lately, a lot of buzz has come from the article by Jason Whitlock called "The Black KKK." In it, he likens the criminal activity of some of Black America's constituents to that of the Ku Klux Klan, mainly because he sees them as a generation of people who terrorize and kill Blacks, much like the KKK did in the early 20th century. He also takes a very pointed approach towards placing some of the blame on Hip Hop and the violent messages that have emerged in music as a catalyst for alot of the trends we see in Black America.

The last portion of that paragraph is where all hell broke loose.

Many of the young people who read this article and others similar to it began to lash out at critics of Hip Hop by saying that it is taking an unfair beating for several reasons. The rest of this blog will deal with the predominate arguments that I have heard, and my take on each one.

1. Hip Hop is just a mirror of what happens in society. Drugs, guns, and violence have always been a part of American Culture, not just Blacks.

Okay, so this is a valid point. American culture has made a nice name for itself as being one of the most unsavory breeding grounds for violence, drugs, crime, etc. And yes, it affects all cultures, not just Black America. But let's look beyond the emotion of this argument to see what the people who espouse this argument are saying. Basically, this is a way of saying that it's okay, everybody is doing it. That, to me, is a cop-out, and should not be accepted. Just because other societies, other media, and other groups are doing the same thing does not make it right. But the fact of the matter is, some Hip Hop has become the vehicle through which this violence has made it to our community. This is in addition to drugs, gangs, etc. But the thing we have to remember is that these elements co-evolved, and Hip Hop has played a role in the integration of gangs, gun violence, and drug use into our communities by bringing it to our doorstep in a nice, neat little package.

2. Poor-parenting is the problem. Kids need to be disciplined more, and Hip Hop can't negate personal responsibility of the home.

Now this argument is the one I think carries the most weight. Poor parenting in the home started long before Hip Hop was ever created, and it manifests itself tremendously in the overall regression of our children and their activities. But we have to remember the theory of "tabula raza." Tabula raza (or clean slate) says that a person is born with a mind that is essentially a clean slate, and that societal influences (parenting, community, music, arts, etc.) write on that slate and create the individuals consciousness. To expand it a little further, some of this stuff can be erased, or overshadowed by other events that write HARDER on the slate (so if a parent is doing their job, then the influence of other outside forces should be minimalized) and that essentially the biggest influences will take up the most room on the slate. With this being said, the Hip Hop industry is one of many things that write on the slate of our children, so even with parenting, there is still a chance for it to affect the minds of our youth, especially when you have negative music and lyrics infiltrating our parental influences when our children are at school, on the bus, etc. So unless you live on an island, this negativity can still reach the children, and therefore, can still cause negative influences, despite good parenting. So Hip Hop is still not off the hook.

3. We have so many other problems in Black America, so music can't be that big of a deal. If we fix the other problems first, then we can deal with Hip Hop.

I pose a question...if someone has gonorrhea and chlamydia at the same time, which do you treat first? The answer is...you treat them both simultaneously. You don't wait for one to be cured first, because the other will fester until then. You have to use a multi-faceted approach, and the same goes with the ills of Black society. If we really want to try and fix our communities and our people's issues, then we have to divide our energies and resources to address all of the problems simultaneously. So for critics like Whitlock, who points a finger at Hip Hop, that is where he chooses to focus his energies, and I don't blame him. Anyone who has a problem with his assessment of Hip Hop's negative influence on Black America should simply find an element of society that bothers them and work on it. But you cannot knock him for choosing to address this issue as HIS priority. It's called smokescreening, and when people try to say "This major problem is not as big as another major problem" then the problems eventually get skirted, and nothing ever gets solved.

And lastly...my favorite.

4. Hip Hop is no longer our culture. You can't blame the artists for doing what sells and what the white men that are over these companies make them do.

This is the biggest cop-out and hypocritical statement that could ever be made. On one hand, people love to say that Hip Hop is a powerful voice in the community when something good is coming out of it. But as soon as something negative is mentioned, then the argument becomes "Artists can't help what the companies tell them to put out." That is pure hypocrisy. Yes, there are people who pull the strings that may not relate to Black America, but Hip Hop is one venue by which the middle men (aka the artists) can actually make changes, if they were to all get on one accord. But let's face it, it is easier to take the big chain and contract then it is to take a stand. No one wants to see that though!

Bottom line is this. If you love something, then you should want to see it progress, and you should want to see it be positive. And you should want to evaluate it from time to time to see if it is representative of the thing you fell in love with in the first place. To me, a lot of the people that defend Hip Hop have not taken a critical look at it in order to make it progressively better. That is what real love does...it enhances all parties involved. So if you love Hip Hop, then try to enhance it, and make it better. And if there is still an issue after you have done your part, then maybe Hip Hop(in its current form) simply doesn't love you back!

Pseudo-intellectuals Pt. 1- Stagnating Thought Progression

Okay, so this is going to be the first in a multi-part series of things that I am feeling regarding the intellectual capacity of our generation and how we can improve certain aspects of it.

So lately, there have been a lot of deeper level conversations/forums/discussions/etc. that have opened my eyes to a variety of mindsets amongst the members of my generation. Many of these individuals are very well read, have studied many different philosophies, and are very articulate in their speech. But I am noticing a trend in the progression of the thought process, and that is that students nowadays are stagnating that progression through what I call pseudo-intellectualism. We do it in many ways, and in part one, I am going to discuss what I call "deifying your elders".

Many of the famous philosophical minds, particularly in Black history and culture, have been revered for their eloquence and sophistication in the evolution of thinking. They were men and women of great mental and conversational prowess, and their legacies have been time-honored contributions to our current methods of thinking. But what I tend to notice is that people in my generation have so much reverence and respect for these icons that we rarely ever challenge anything that they say or espouse. Rather, we often accept their word as law, and treat their words as irrefutable proof of our own arguments. And it shows the most when you see students quote W. E. B. DuBois, or Benjamin Mays, or Martin L. King...and everyone in the audience starts clapping as soon as the quote is finished.

But what did YOU contribute to that rationale that those men espoused? What are YOUR thoughts aside from what they have said? How does this relate to YOUR intellectual development?

This is a major problem to me, because it hits at the very core of what makes academia so great...our ability to agree, disagree, align, and depart with other mentalities, so that we all are making contributions to the whole of the educational and intellectual process. And for the Black community in general, we are trained that way from the jump in many cases. (How many times have you been told not to question your parents, or felt that because mommy said it, it must be true?) It's innate in our upbringing to show respect for those who come before us, but few of us ever toe the line to say, I respect what you say, but I respectfully disagree as well.

I make it a point, nowadays, to try and decipher not only what a person is saying in a text, or in the scripture, or in any body of work, but to understand why that person said it. Maybe the times during which the body of work was written have changed substantially, making it a anachronistic message. Maybe the person lacked a well-rounded view of the situations about which they argued. Maybe they simply saw one point of view, and that there is another new point of view that is relevant now. Either way, I try not to deify my predecessors to the point that I cannot think for myself or express anything that goes against their contributions.

Contribution of our own intellect is valuable to the progression and movement of intellectual development. Each generation must do their part to add to the whole, so that the we do not stagnate the development of these thoughts and ideals. By deifying our elders, and having fear of challenging them because of our respect for them, we essentially miss out on our chance to contribute our own thoughts, and to one day be elevated to the same level of admiration and respect by future generations.

Regular Black

Okay, so at the forum the other night (Black Caribbeans vs African Americans) I told the story of how when I got to FSU, and I introduced myself as African American, the Caribbean students said that I was "regular black" and all laughed. I told the group that it was one of the most offensive things I had ever been called, and people looked puzzled. Last night, at another workshop, I overheard some of the girls from the forum discussing my comment, and they said "I don't understand why he was insulted, there are so many other things he could have been called."

Here is my explanation, for those who need it...

Many Caribbeans are taught by their parents and culture that African Americans (i.e. non-Caribbean, slave descendants) do not have culture. That we lost our history through slavery, and so, we don't have knowledge of self. That notion is one that pervades the minds and conversations of many Caribbeans, and though they may not say it for political correctness, it affects how they view me and others who identify as African American.

So to call me "regular black" in my mind suggests that I am generic to them. As if my culture is bland, and that I have no cultural flavor simply because I can't name an island to claim as my home. It is tough enough in America knowing that other racial groups think lowly of African Americans, but for other Blacks to make a distinction like this is demoralizing, no matter what other terms I could have been called in its place.

Let's face it...the major reason why people claim their cultures so much in America is because they are not in their homelands. No one who lives in Jamaica is trying to prove to everyone that they are Jamaican. No one from Trinidad has to really brag that they are Trini while they are there. It is when you get immersed in a land that is different from yours that you have to identify yourself. Hell, it wasn't until I got to Florida State that I felt the need to SAY that I am African American due to the large number of Caribbeans...before then it was just understood. And because of that, it seems that there is so much MORE pride from Caribbean Blacks, but that's not because of a lack of culture or history for African Americans, but because they HAVE to identify themselves since they are not in their homelands. (And I know African Americans are not in our homelands either, but for now, America serves as our reference point.)

The other thing is that I feel Black Caribbeans often view African Americans through the same channels as other races do, and that is through the exaggerated and exacerbated stories in the media. To be honest, when Caribbeans are in America, and they are surrounded by African Americans, a lot of times, they feel the need to talk about their history and their culture because it is novel to the listener. But if you try to tell them about African American history, they assume they know it. (This adds to that generic notion about where African Americans derive.) So the conversation is usually one-sided, with Caribbeans speaking about their food, music and stories, and African American stories being shelved as understood.

I wrote all of this as clarification for why I felt insulted by being called "regular Black." To reduce someone's history and culture to a generic story, to me, is harmful, especially when that mindset is what led to most of the history that group has. We have to be careful with the words that we speak, and what we are really saying when we speak them, especially as it relates to race, culture, and history.

United as Blacks (I apologize upfront for any feelings I step on)

Last night I attended one of the most interesting, and probably the most thought provoking seminars I have seen in a long time. It was a discussion on the cultural differences between Carribbean Blacks and African Americans. Although a lot of the comments I heard last night, in my opinion, were either shallow attempts to sugarcoat real feelings or major appeals to emotion, I found a lot of useful information in the process, so I enjoyed it overall.

There was one particular statement that bothered me, and it kept being repeated over and over again by the students that were in the room. They all kept comparing Black Unity, or the lack thereof, to the perceived "unity" of majority society. And it was said in a variety of ways. One person said," You never hear white Germans beefing with Polish Whites." Another person said, "White people never have this problem." I heard one student whisper, "Neither do Asians." No matter how it was presented, it came off to me as "Other groups have it together, why don't we?"

I have a MAJOR problem with that notion, and I will tell you why...

Historically, any group of people that have arrived in America, be it by force or by choice, have had internal strife in some way, shape or form. The Chinese and the Japanese, as history will tell you, fought each other for land and conquered many lands in Asia. The Mongols of upper Asia did as well. A lot of that has carried over to America, though Blacks may rarely see it. The people of India still participate in active slavery of its own people. Italian Americans beef heavily with Sicilians, even though they are from the same basic region of the world. White Americans (some, not all) dislike White Canadians, Irish, etc.

Which leads me to the following conclusion...

ALL RACIAL GROUPS ARE DIVIDED. PERIOD. You wanna know why majority society doesn't seem have the same problems we as Blacks think we have? You know why they don't have forums on how to be unified? It isn't because they have it together and are unified...it's because they don't give a damn about being unified. Same goes for Asian Americans to some extent, although they do tend to bond a little more than the majority. Since Blacks are actively seeking unity, and constantly keep this as a forerunning thought in our existence, we tend to be critical about how this gets accomplished. That manifests itself in different ways, but the reality is, we are the ONLY group that cares about being unified as a whole people. That is what makes us SEEM as though we are fighting to be unified...cause we are the only group that cares.

I think this point, if valid to you, needs to be internalized for several reasons:

1. If we constantly think we are behind, then we will never get ahead. So many of us dog ourselves when we talk about our lack of unity, not realizing that we are actually the only group that could possibly achieve it, if we keep actively seeking it. And I think we should embrace that distinction, since ultimately, it will be our strength once we are faced with another crisis against our own.

2. Once we get on one accord, we can see where the real problem is...and that is money. Race relations is a by-product of a class/economic issue that plagues EVERY group. When we look at the White race, all we really see are the iconic members of their race. The wealthy and the affluent. But to be honest, there are Whites that have the exact same struggles that we have, and I submit to you that most of the hate Blacks receive from White America is perpetuated by the middle and lower class whites who feel we are a threat to their entitled legacy. Affirmative action, for example. doesn't matter to the super-rich...their children will probably get into whatever school they choose because they can afford it. But the people who are fighting it are the ones who are in the same position as most of us are in terms of class. (And I don't mean all Whites, but those select ones that do feel this way, it applies to them. No offense to anyone reading this.) Unity, for us, will allow us to start becoming forerunners in progression in America, and if we realize that we are on the cusp of this, then we would feel more empowered.

3. America thrives on the fact that we are all different, and cohesion of similar groups could be detrimental to the fabric of this country, at least in the eyes of those in power. So as Black people, if we understand that we could be the first to break through that, we would actually be elevating ourselves past many other racial groups in terms of forward progression of the whole, instead of forward progression of individuals. (It was happening with Black Wall Street, and we see how that turned out. )

I guess my whole point in this blog is to point out the inherent self-loathing that we do in an attempt to catch up with others. Once we assess where others are in their movement towards unity, we will see that we may be setting the trends, instead of catching up to the pack in terms of our oneness.

Protecting Our Women

Women are the strongest creatures I know. Point blank. I realize that physical strength is something that is usually dominated by men, but mental and emotional strength is something that is very powerful in our women, and it is this strength that I admire so much. With that said, I am writing this with tears in my eyes as I think about what our women have to endure.

I saw the short film "Bid Em In" on BET, which talks about selling of slaves, and they showed how a Black woman would be advertised for their bodies and abilities to produce children. Yet in 2007, not much has changed. So many of our women have been exploited, both commercially and locally, by us...men. And in all honesty, we do it without realizing exactly what the impact is that we are having on the esteem of women as whole.

In talking with many of my female friends and colleagues, it really amazes me how many of them have been victims of sexual/emotional/physical abuse at the hands of a man. About 90% of my female friends and family fall into being victims of one of those three categories, yet to look at them, all you see is strength and that smile that hides the pain that they have endured. I'm talking more than just a bad relationship, but rapes, and molestation, and domestic violence, etc. And they may deal with their past in many ways. Some may suppress it and push on. Some may develop a profound distrust of men. Some may accept this as their fate and become allow themselves to be used in these fashions. What's even more disturbing to me is that many men approach women in these same traumatic ways without any regard to the possibility of what they may have gone through in the past (and I used to do the same thing, so I really understand how mindless it can be to come at a woman that way without thinking about the repercussions). And though we may get responses that seem positive to us, it may be that we are adding to the trauma that was placed on them during their innocence.

So I guess this is my plea to my brothers to change the game, and how we treat our women. Being a sincere gentleman (not just the gentleman that is nice until he gets some) is a small gesture that every man can do to add to the security of our women, and to support them through what they are going through. Letting our women know that we are there for them for more than just how they look or what pleasure they can provide will go a long way towards helping rebuild our social and mental bond with the female gender. Uplifting women who may have even forgotten their own self-worth could start the trend towards better dialogue and stronger relationships between both sides. Because the bottom line is...whenever you approach a woman for what may seem like playful chase, you never know what wounds you are actually in danger of re-opening.

Michael Vick-A Black Man's Perspective

Okay, so the Michael Vick thing has me vexed...

Not because the media is making a big deal about his situation.

Not because he is being charged with crimes that pale in comparison to others that have gotten lighter sentences.

But because I think this case was the case I needed to see if we, as Black people, really understand the court system as a whole. I am more convinced than ever that the Black community, as a whole, is throwing out the race card inappropriately in this situation.

A couple of things to consider before saying that Vick was treated unfairly...

1. Michael Vick is accused of committing a crime that directly infuriates one of the largest public interest groups in America, and that is PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.) Now in general, that may seem like a small matter, but they are based in the SAME DAMN STATE as the dogfighting operation (Virginia). You have to be slightly off your rocker to do that. The culture of Virginia is one that will protect animals at almost any cost. (Ask the colleges around the area about how much trouble they get from ALF and PETA regarding research animals.) Bottom line is, you have to know your surroundings when you commit a crime.

2. As I see it, one of the main reasons Black people commit crimes is because they need to survive. Regardless of what anyone says, I truly feel that Blacks that commit crimes more often than not are trying to put food on the table and money in their pockets. But once you make money, there is NO LEGITIMATE REASON in my mind to continue committing crimes of financial gain. There is too much land to invest in, too many stocks to buy, and too much opportunity for people who HAVE money to make MORE money legally. It hurts me to see someone of Vick's stature make it out of the hardships laid before him, only to screw it up over something that was unnecessary. (I don't know his full situation, but hey, it's my blog, and I can be short-sighted if I choose.) John Elway became very wealthy in the NFL...know what he did with his money? Bought up almost ALL of Denver's automotive suppliers. All legal. Atlanta/Virginia would have gladly let Vick invest in something legitimate like that to help build the community around him...

3. Any real criminal knows that once you gain access to the financials of the operation, you don't get your hands dirty anymore. Point Blank.

4. My last point applies to everyone and every case across the country, and Black people need to understand this before we start diving in head first to support dumbasses...
Each and every court case in America is individualized to a large degree in terms of personnel, circumstances, precedents as they relate to the case, etc. Therefore, we have to stop assuming that just because our favorite celebrities catch bad breaks, it must be because they are Black. I AM NOT SAYING THAT RACE IS NOT A FACTOR IN SOME CASES...but it is not the ONLY factor either. When you commit crimes you gamble on several things...
1. The leniency of the judge that will have your trial
2. The selection/voir dire process used to screen the jury
3. How much incriminating evidence they have on you
4. The competency of both the prosecution and defense
5. Previous moral/criminal acts (Ron Mexico anyone?)
And a host of other things that can tilt the scales of justice for or against you. But the bottom line is that when you roll the dice and gamble on your criminal future, you may not always win. Yes, Vick's case may seem blown out of proportion by the media and the court system. Yes he may be facing a harsh penalty. Yes, he may even be made the example for others to see regarding dogfighting. But the bottom line is, what would we have been saying about this case if he had simply decided NOT TO DOGFIGHT! Not a thing, because it wouldn't have been an issue if he had opted to do right. You can circumvent most of the inherent disparities in our court system and our prison systems by simply opting to do right. (There are cases where that doesn't apply, like the Jena 6, but I am hard pressed to see how Vick had no other option than to fight dogs.)

I am hurt by the situation. He was a very exciting athlete to watch, and he actually had yet to really reach his full potential as a player. But I still think that when you leave your future in the hands of an institution that may or may not have your best interests at heart, then you gamble big, and when you lose...you take your lumps and keep it moving. That's why I am not jumping on the bandwagon of people who are trying to say that Vick is being unfairly treated. Had he taken the personal responsibility NOT to get involved in a senseless racket, then we would have no need to fight for his equal treatment.

People as Cars II: The Commercial

Quick questions:

When was the last time you have seen a Porsche commercial? Probably has been a long time, if ever.

When was the last time you saw a Hyundai commercial? Probably once a day.

Which company makes more money? I am sure it is Porsche, even though they don't advertise nearly as much as Hyundai does.


So where am I going with all of this? It leads me to the point of advertisement versus reputation. If you notice, most of your expensive, high quality merchandise is rarely advertised. Tommy Hilfiger, Maybach, Ferrari, Polo, etc...none of these companies ever have to sell you on how valuable their merchandise is....you just know that they have a reputation for putting out nothing but the finest. Companies like Toyota, Hyundai, Suzuki, etc spend millions of dollars yearly trying to prove how good they are and how they beat out the next car in testing and sales.

People are a lot like that when it comes to dating. I have noticed that a lot of people treat themselves as if they are Hyundais...they spend almost all of their time trying to convince you as a consumer that they are worth your time. They brag about their job status, sexual prowess, their money, and what they wear...and they do all of the things that they think you need to hear and see to invest in what usually ends up being a lemon. They also will spend loads of time trying to show how much better they are than the next man/woman. All of this build-up for what usually ends up being a disappointment...and the purchase of another "car" shortly afterwards. But there are some people who understand their value, and understand that EVERYBODY is not entitled, or can afford, to have them...and certainly they don't DESERVE to either. This is because Porsche people know that as long as they have a good reputation, and as long as they spend time making sure that they are upholding their own personal standards, then they won't have to prove to people how valuable they are...the world will just KNOW.

So I submit to you that a lot of self-evaluation should be done by all of us so that we can make sure that we have a reputation that will make us more marketable to the next consumer. Human value comes from within first, and when you raise your value, you won't have to brag or promote yourself to anyone else out there...if they can afford you, they will seek you because you have a Porsche persona, instead of being a Hyundai human.

People as Cars-Part 1

"I do good all by myself, but baby you, you make me better." Fabo and Ne-Yo.

Okay, so I really don't like Fabolous as an artist too much, simply because his flow to me is kinda boring, but this song has really hit home with me when it comes to evaluating the people in my life. I have noticed that when I classify people who are important to me, I tend to put them into two basic categories: accessories or enhancements.

Everyone that you meet in life will play a role in your overall development, no matter how big or small a part. But what their overall value is to you is not determined by the amount of time they are in your life, or the amount of love they have for you...but ultimately the value that they give to your life (and your value to them can be measured in the same way.)

Accessories, as with cars, are people who may look good in your life, but essentially play no major role in how your life functions. Spinning rims, fishtails, racing stripes, etc. are all things that we add to vehicles for aesthetics, but not for function. For example, we all have friends that are fun to go out with, or are great people to socialize with, but we would never spend anything more than that with them. Or we all have dated someone who is fun to look at, or even entertaining, but never seems to have more than that to offer. So besides their presence, very little is actually added to your life. They are to be seen, and that's it. The problem is that we often get so used to how the accessories make our lives LOOK that we rarely realize that they are not important to our overall function...and in many cases will actually devalue our vehicle as well. (Spinning rims and candy paint have never raised the value of a Chevy Caprice. LOL) At some point, we will eventually mature past the need for those accessories, and they get removed or replaced by newer accessories, which starts the whole process again.

Enhancements, however, are things that we add to vehicles that improve the overall function of the car. Better engines, dual exhaust pipes, fuel injection cleaner, etc...things of that sort. These are all things that when added lead to better waste emissions, higher horsepower, and better driving. People who are enhancements are the types of people who not only add value to your life, but their benefits can actually be noticed once they enter your life. It's as if they help to elevate your performance in some way...ways that mere accessories cannot do.


So I am learning to determine who in my life actually helps me to be a better vehicle, and who in my life merely are pleasant but not necessarily required. I submit to you to ask yourself if the people around you fall into these two categories, and it will provide clarity as to what and who is important to your overall well-being.

I Have Atoned

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...

Precedes every Catholic confession. The trouble with that, which is one reason the Catholic church catches scrutiny, is that this atonement has to be made to another human vessel in order to be transmitted to God. In other words, God needs an interpreter, because he and I do not speak the same language.

Not the case...

So why do I bring this up? Lately, I have been dealing with atoning for many of my transgressions towards the people in my life. They have been nothing major, but they were enough to be worthy of formal apologies. My trouble is that I never know when to stop apologizing. You see, I am the type of person that never wants anyone to look at me in an ill light because of something that I may have done unknowingly, and for the most part, these are the types of transgressions that I have committed. (Most of the time, if I knew that I was doing it, I will not apologize for it, since I thought it out in advance-with a few exceptions.)

As a side note, studies show that fewer Catholics commit suicide. The issue is that they receive instant confirmation from the Priest that they have made adequate atonement. Just say some hail mary's and everything will be alright. I have no such system, and so I never know when I should be able to move on from a situation.

Well, that has to change.

I have determined several things. For one, everyone will offend or hurt anyone in their lives in some way shape or form. It may be small...it may be big...but it will happen. With that said, I am tired of having to deal with my transgressions days, months, even years after it happened. I know that it is hard to shake somethings, but the victim of these transgressions must realize that, to almost the same extent, I have to deal with the guilt and hurt of knowing that I hurt someone for whom I care. That in itself is a big punishment and a deterrent for future iniquities. Secondly, I realize that only two of the three parties involved need to be satisfied with my apology in order for me to move on...God and me. The victim, though I hate to say it, will have to deal with it in his/her own way. And if he/she decides to hold a grudge against me for it, than he/she will have to deal with the repercussions of that grudge, and the unhappiness that accompanies it.

People often use the guilt one feels for the transgression as leverage for future situations. It is almost as if one incident can lead to being controlled by those who feel hurt by you. Well, I am not letting guilt be the ruin of me. If I apologize, and whole-heartedly mean it, then there is nothing more I can do. Once I make amends, I am through with it, and from there, it is up[ to the other party what he/she does from there.

God and I are through with the situation.

Ranting a Bit- Conventional Wisdom

I hate arguing.

Arguing, to me, is when you debate topics without facts or substantiation for ones point. But I have come to realize that people do alot of arguing, rather than discussing things intelligently. That bothers me...

For one, I hate for anyone to tell me that my opinion is wrong. Opinions cannot be wrong. However, they could be based on misinterpretation of facts. But no ones opinio can be proven wrong. So when I meet people who ask my opinion, and then say that my opinion is wrong simply because they don't agree with it, then to me, it is grounds for debate. But once a debate begins, and the other party has no factual basis to back it up, then it turns into arguing, and that is when there is no winner except the person who can piss the other person off quickest.

I discussed opinion with a lady in my life and she tends to think that one can debate an opinion without having facts to back his or her views. That bothers me. You can discuss them, but if you are going to debate someone elses opinion and you have nothing on which to stand, then you are just running to a gun fight without a weapon. But I have also noticed that the powers that be count on this...they count on us to form opinions and persuade others to do the same, without knowing the facts. That is how Bush got back in office (in my opinion).

Let me stop with my digression.

On the topic of debate, my best friend and I were taught and trained to debate using ceretain methods, one of which is the use of logical fallacies. Logical fallacies are ways of breaking down an argument based on an inappropriate preponderance of the facts. In other words, if you develop an opinion, but it is based on errored facts, then that is to be discussed. Well, my lady friend kinda got snappy about the fact that I use this method to dissect arguments thrown at me. She says that what I see as a method of debate could be for others conventional wisdom. This may be true, and it was conventional wisdom for me as well. But once I was trained to use my conventional wisdom properly, it no longer allows for inappropriate discussion of the facts.

It's like playing basketball. There are plenty of people out there who can play basketball, and are good at it. That is because they have conventional wisdom (natural talent). But will they ever go pro...probably not, unless they are coached and trained on how to use their raw talent. And when they try to play against the coached teams, they are outmatched...

Conventional wisdom without adequate training is like a boat without a rudder...it will move, and it will float, but it will have no direction.

I am finished ranting...just needed to vent a little bit.