The only color that matters is green

Crazy Thought of the Day:

Race really isn't the issue.. it's money.

I'm watching the movie Titanic, and although there are numerous themes in this movie that make me think (especially the devastating thoughts about true love and how I desperately need a Jack Dawson in my life), but one thing that stood out as I watch it for the 56th time... is class based on economic standings.

It normally upsets me when I continue to see people in the Black community obsessed with trying to become white. Not necessarily blatantly, but subconsciously. This can include anything from dressing the way they dress, to perming our hair straight to bleaching cream. It pisses me off how in almost everything we do we are trying to get on "their level".. But what I'm coming to realize is that we aren't really trying to be White. We are trying to be what White stands for.

We are materialistic and all about making money, which is how a vast amount of White people are seen. If all White people were poor and raggedy, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't want to be White. What we want are the luxuries and freedoms we see wealthy Whites represent. Blacks in America have never been the wealthy, because we began here as slaves. We want to be masters. We see Whites floating through life with their Louie bags and Polo shirts, sipping Chardonnay on yachts seemingly without a care in the world. THAT is what I believe we are searching for. We could give a damn about their pale skin color that reddens and peals in the sun.

I believe if we could all afford the luxuries of life, then skin color wouldn't matter. Watching the Titanic, the first-class people treated the people of the third-class like they weren't human; like their lives didn't matter; like how Blacks were viewed in times of slavery. The mother, while boarding the life boat, asks, "Will the lifeboats be seated by class?". Snobbery in the face of an epic disaster. Now, had their been Blacks on the Titanic.. the poor third-class whites (who have been mistreated by the wealthy) would use this same mistreatment towards Black people even though wealthy Whites wouldn't care for either of them (unless the Blacks had money). Race gave poor Whites something to feel good about themselves and oppress others. Why do you think most members of the KKK reside in rural, lower income areas full of "rednecks"?

Immigrants were treated horribly when they first came to the United States because they were 1) different, 2) broke, and 3) had no foundation in the New World. But if they'd had been rich Kings or Queens, the word "immigrant" wouldn't have meant anything.

And in all actuality, some of the things we attach to the stigma of White people is as stereotypical as those applied to other races, except in a more positive light. The wealthiest people in any country: India, China, France, Brazil, Canada, wherever, all probably act more similar to one another than they do a poor person of their same nationality. So when people say to someone, "Why you talkin' so White?" what does that really mean?

We can assume (from pre-existing stigmas) that they are probably speaking with big words, lots of pronunciation, and of topics that stem from: a good education.

So White equals good education? No.

How do you receive a good education? Money.

People don't want to be White, they want to be Rich.

Blacks have become more White in their actions strictly based on their current obsession with achieving wealth and addiction to materials that signify the accomplished wealth. I say that this is based on European influence simply because the original nature of Africans was purely spiritual. Life was based on harmony with nature, family, community and love. Items were swapped through trade, not money.

We need to change what it means "to be" White or Black or anyother color or ethnicity. Why does being Black/ African-American mean "poor, uneducated, gangster, live in ghetto, likes rap music"? And how can we change our definition?

"If we don't talk, we don't heal"

Jill Scott is being called a Racist.

Jill Scott, a grammy award winning R&B soul singer and actress, recently wrote an article in Essence magazine about Inter-racial couples and "the wince" incurred by herself and other black women when she witnesses a successful black man married to a white woman and people are going crazy!

The Essence article simply explains the history of slavery which has left a permanent scar in our subconcious regarding the images of white woman, black woman, and black men. She discusses how the mistreatment of people due to skin color has left her feeling some sort of way when she witnesses inter-racial couples. So what!

Jill Scott isn't racist, she's just being REAL.

The comments following her story are ignorant and consist of people ignoring history and lieing to themselves. Jill Scott doesn't mention anything about her wishing the Black man discussed would have married a Black woman instead of a White woman, nor does she say that they can't be together or love each other, she simply describes her feelings towards the matter. What really disturbs me is how Black women are responding like they don't feel anything when they see the same thing. And if you do or don't, it's a feeling inspired by years of brainwashing to the point where, mentally, its almost natural. She never states that she feels "betrayed". She never states that it's "wrong". All she says is it's a feeling she experiences and feels like other Black women might also experience this feeling and now is the time to analyze why and where is this feeling coming from.

This controversy upsets me because Jill Scott is being discredited and being called a racist simply because she was brave and honest enough to submit her real feelings to the world only to be criticized. And the sadest part, is that the people who are criticizing her are probaly all of her same race; African-Americans! And in particular, African-American women.

Why must we continue to find divisive ways to bring each other down? We are becoming as closed minded as the Europeans that originally enslaved us! Anything that is unique was once declared "savage" and "barbaric"; we now call it "racist" and "prejudice". Stop being so sensitive and shunning people that are being real. Maybe if some of us weren't so busy trying to pretend like the injustices of the past didn't happen, THEN we could move forward. Stop being an Uncle Tom and kissing the Master's ass with all this crap, do you even know who you truly are or are you to busy trying to impress someone else? We can't have progressive change by eliminating what happened and hiding our true feelings. These are conversations we need to have within our communities to recognize the foundation of the problem so we can trace our feelings, and work together to make positive advancements.

So all you who are calling Jill Scott a racist. Please read the article and try to be empathetic, not judmental. And let me know what your comments are.

http://www.essence.com/relationships/commentary_3/commentary_jill_scott_talks_interracial.php

I also encourage anyone who disagrees to read this statement Jill Scott made on CNN to Anchor Tony Harris on Friday, March 26th.

JILL SCOTT: I'm going to take on a lot of different issues and thoughts and feelings. This is a Black woman's magazine and it's for everybody, but it's specifically the viewpoint of a Black woman. that's what i am. so i'm going to continue to write and critically write con accepts, ideas, things that trouble us, frustrate us, make us wonder so we can talk. If we don't talk, we don't heal. That's my whole point of position. I have no issue or problem with interracial love. i'm all for love. Love is the most wonderful thing ever created. So i don't want people to get confused by this. I just wanted to discuss what that little pinch is, what that that quiet little "ouch", are that comes from.

Bad Weather, Good Fortune

It's crazy how the weather can really affect your mood.
When the sun's out, I'm happy, energetic, playful and at peace. But as soon as the clouds come, depression sets in with the rain.

I hate it.

I missed the funeral today because of my self-diagnosed seasonal depression.. which in result made me even more depressed lol. But remarkably.. this post is about God.

Even when I'm in a lost mood, as long as I stay at peace, pray to Him, and think with my faith, everything seems to just fall into place.

On days like those, poetry soothes me. It was a beautiful night with a cool after-rain mist; one of those nights where you can still see the clouds and peak at the moon, and I realized it was Tuesday. Tuesday's are poetry night at Bus Boys & Poets. So I packed my laptop, i pod, and current reading book and walked.


I arrived at Bus Boys and the usual bustle greeted me. I eased my way to the bookstore side to buy my ticket for open mic and took a deep sigh as I read the white sign saying "Open Mic is SOLD OUT."

Oh well, I thought. I might as well download some music while I'm in here.

My eyes scanned the room for a comfy barren spot, when I noticed someone else's eyes following me. While finding my seat, one of the employees at Bus Boys excorted me.
"Is open mic normally sold out?" I asked him curiously.
"Like clock-work."
"Really?"
"Yup. We start selling tickets at 10 in the morning and normally around 3:00 we're sold out," he replied casually. A nice looking guy, probaly a manager since he had a black ear plug coiling his button up shirt. "Were you really interested in the poetry?"
"Yes I really was." I saw that this could maybe be an invitation to see the show. "I walked all the way here. I've never been to the open mic before.. I go to Howard."

I threw it all down with a charming smile. Would he pick up the bait?

"I'll see what I can do."

YES!!!!!

And next thing I knew, I was on stage in Bus Boys & Poets sipping my hot chocolate for the free-ski... These are the times that I'm glad I'm a loner and happy I was born with decent looks and a vagina lol.

But all praise goes to God. It's amazing how He has everything worked out. All we have to do is trust in him. No fear. No worries. No guilt.

Davon Green-Franklin

It’s crazy how death makes you think about life.
It makes you think about love.
It unifies people; brings us together in a way that nothing else can.

I’ve never known someone that’s died before, until now. I had a long distanced aunt that I didn’t know once. But never someone whom I shared in conversation with, looked into their eyes and made a connection with.

At first, when I heard he died, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it at all actually. I don’t know if even believe it now..

It’s funny, because I was watching the movie Avatar when I heard what happened. Crying my eyes out over fictional characters that I developed a strong, emotional connection with over one hour. And while I was watching it, he crossed my mind. I was planning on having an in depth discussion with him about it, ask him what he thought because I had heard him mention the movie more than once, and because Davon tended to have such an interested opinion that I always valued and respected…

Davon was a good soul. He took me to get some medicine once when I was sick; he made an effort to reach out to me that seldom people take the time to do. Davon was a whisper that very few could hear; they just saw people’s lips move. They may have seen the labels: the Kappa, the Pal, the senior. But Davon was so much more than that.

Now I know why no one mentions the bad thing about a person when they die. Because it isn’t relevant. All that matters is what they contributed to the world, the good they had to offer, and their hearts that shone brighter than jewels. Everyone sins, but how many of us can say that we positively contributed to another person’s life?

My tears aren’t for Davon. Davon has transitioned from caterpillar to cocoon and is on his way to floating like a butterfly. He’s in a much better place. My tears are for the life he lived that passed before me that I should have taken advantage of; that I didn’t spend enough time with trying to get to know. They are for the people who we miss out on every single day; for the people that can hold a grudge when life’s too short, and for the people that judge others, spit on their names, and now are feeling so horrible inside because of the words they said against someone whom died too young. My soul aches for those who don’t know love, don’t know God, and therefore don’t know how to appreciate our days here on earth.. I’m at peace because I know Davon is with God, smiling with love in his hearts for all of us who are shedding tears for him. I’m okay because I know that one day, me and him will get to have our conversation about Avatar.