Archive | June 2015

Tragedy Strikes ~ The Heart of Home: Emanuel A.M.E Church

This is a station identification break. Originally I had scheduled a young hip-hop artist and recent Columbia University graduate for my next blog post but after the recent shooting in Charleston I had to digress. Selah…..

Tragedy strikes ~ The Heart of Home

As a kid, a black kid, or African American kid, or colored kid…you get the point….like every other child I loved the Dukes of Hazard. There was never an inkling of the flag on the roof of the car, affectionately known as The General Lee, was a symbol of hate, slavery, racism, socio-economic injustice, oppression, inequality, and the lowest form of humanity to strike at the heart of human dignity. No thought of chattel slavery, Jim Crow, lynching or discrimination entered our minds. After all, Bob and Luke Duke were just some “good ole boys never meaning any harm”.

However, we are no longer in the ignorance of our youth. We have parents, educators, social activists and the longstanding forms of artistic expression through blues, hip-hop and spoken word to enlighten a generation that seemingly cares more about twerking than social justice. What happened in Charleston is a travesty.  It’s domestic terrorism.  It’s a strike at the core of the Church. Not the “Black Church or Negro Church, or African-American Church, but the Church and a body of believers called Christians. The calculated, malicious, methodical, planned, known, senseless attack executed in brazen form was learned demonism and hatred breed by upbringing and association. For him, it was nature. His matriculation of having “black friends” was simply to further syncopate his level of disdain for a race of people that he simply didn’t know. He used the depiction of blacks on Fox News, AllStarHipHop, Mediatakeout, Facebook, and other media outlets to stiffen his resolve of murder. But something strange happened; he didn’t look to the lowest form of depravity to plan his execution, he chose the peaceful, he chose the standard, he chose Black Christians.  He didn’t go into a community where drug dealers and gang bangers would have easily exchanged shot for shot. He entered into a church.  He probably thought of Jesus as being white and the savior of the white race only. He pulled out his birthday gift to himself and massacred nine of God’s people. He murdered nine saints of God. He murdered the leader of a flock of people that have one of the hardest calls on this earth and that is to forgive. He went to a sacred place of worship because he realized the thugs and the gang bangers and the drug dealers are not the real threat. It’s the peaceful ones he targeted.

I don’t have statistics for you. I don’t have live data. I have heart and filtered emotion. I don’t love this young man. I don’t have remorse for this young man. I don’t feel any empathy for his family because I simply don’t have to extend that type of attention to him. I have a responsibility to speak honesty that I am of a faith that requires me to forgive him. With that responsibility comes a great amount of mental anguish because I loathe his deplorable actions.  “Hate the sin love the sinner”.  Whatever!  I despise his upbringing. I question why a kid so young used birthday money to purchase a 45 caliber weapon that only serves one purpose.…seek and destroy. In the eyes of some he’s a hero; that is the sadness of America. Yet, there is a symbol of hate that is stronger than the face of a young punk, it is the flag of the confederacy battlefield. This young man is depicted in a picture waving a confederate flag while burning the US Flag (I’ll save my opinions on that for another day).   A flag that until this incident I thought had a right to honor even the fallen soldiers. Then I started to remember the blood of my ancestors, the rape of my ancestral mothers, the murder of my ancestral fathers and realize municipal or federal government institutions should never support a symbol that is supported individually.

This is why I don’t care about this lost soul. May he find mercy in the arms of God but may he find the electric chair, or needle, or death by firing squad at the hand of justice. The symbol of the confederate should die along with all those that execute innocent people on its behalf. He should no longer breathe fresh air. Let him find and breathe rotten piss at the bottom of a cell where many innocent men have been falsely imprisoned. May he find redemption in the arms of the Lord but find swift and painful justice in the arms of the law. A law that took him to Burger King, a law that peacefully arrested an armed murderer. Hmmm, maybe it is then the deceased that shall find no justice. He is not an actor, he is neither Bo nor Luke Duke, but he clearly serves the spirit of General Lee and he clearly is a good-ole boy that meant to do harm.

I do want to thank him for bringing the seeds of hatred and race to the forefront. I thank him for not sparking a race war but for the broadcasting of a church service that will draw more souls to Christ based on the love of the people at Emanuel A.M.E. Church. I thank him for encouraging white pastors to now get in front of the race discussion. I hope he realizes through Biblical research that Jesus is not white and the same Nazi-type hate he lives in opens his eyes to know that the founder of the Christian Faith is a Jew with a far from white skin tone who died for the since of man.

My thoughts, my ramblings, my opinion but had to share it nonetheless.

The Endurer’s World

Greetings Readers, Well, future readers.  I’m starting this blog as a push to engage myself in the world of writing, information, purpose, and passion.  Yep, that’s an overload but I’m still figuring me out at the ripe age of 43.  There’s a distinction between what pays the bills and what “pays it forward”.  I don’t work in my passion which is youth.  For years I’ve been told that I have to make money, support a family and have a big title to be successful.  But, what’s that void inside?  A void shrouded with long hours, hidden agendas, bottled up emotions because at the end of the day you know there’s more to life and you’re simply taking the easy way out.  A void contaminated with fear and complacency.  It’s not a fear of failure, failure is an inevitable path to learning.  It’s a fear of success, a fear that you are worth more than money.  A fear that against all odds and you have survived the worst and best life could through at you.  A fear that you don’t care about being accepted for who you are but what you were created to become.  This is my journey, sharing my words, sharing our world, and finding my voice to reaching our youth.