My pants are hanging off my ass. DEAL WITH IT. After years of oppression, racism, and prejudice we still remain combative against each other. There’s so many external forces at work against US and we’d rather harangue each other about menial insignificant issues. I argued for an hour straight with some older black gentlemen about the most trivial things that WE as young people do. It started with the word Nigger/Nigga/Niggaz…whatever the fuck. He was up in arms about how our generation uses it, his fellow senior cohorts agreed. He yelled till he was blue and I sat calmly. Then I whispered to him and said “I Dont Give A Fuck About Words”. He almost lost his lunch. He pulled out everything that ever happen and what happen in the 60s. And I still could care less. Words are letters. Mere definitions with years of validation to back them. Someone one day called a door a door and from then it caught on. Now that’s the accepted term. But in my estimation just because that’s the “agreed” upon meaning doesn’t mean I have to adhere to it. If I want to call that hole in the wall that allows me to walk in-between spaces something else, I can. The white man called us NIGGERS and he and his fellow white man had an agreed upon definition. We as BLACKS in our infinite creative capacity chose to call each other the sane thing in love and mere pronoun reference. Instead of using a proper noun to identify a person we us NIGGA as a pronoun. As long as I’m not using it in hate and my connotation isn’t demeaning who cares what word I use. I understand it was a term of oppression then…and let me say this…it’s because they allowed it to be. Words have the power YOU give them. Now the beatings, rapings, injustices that were attached to them were the crime. A word can’t physically beat you or mentally tame you unless you allow it to. It’s the same way black girls hate the word bitch and white girls tend not to mind it, it the power or lack there of given to it. Me calling you a bitch or a nigga makes you no less the person you are at all. It doesn’t lock you up, it doesn’t weaken your brain cells, it doesn’t cast a spell. It’s a word, and the weight that you give it depends on what it means to you. So old people dig this…me and my NIGGAS are going to keep on calling each other that cause for us it means something different then what I means to you. Try looking at intent rather then content. For me it’s not what you SAY to me but what you DO to me. If a white cop said “GET OVER HERE YOU FUCKING NIGGER!” and handed me a million dollars I’d take it. Because to me it not about the words he’s saying. His doing or action was the millions dollars. Eff whatever else he’s talking about. Who care about what someone says or even thinks about you that holds no bearing on the air you breathe, or the life you live. I’m more interested in actions. Words are letters strategically and phonologically put placed together. Don’t let them dictate your emotions or feelings.
But back to these damn pants…what the hell is the difference where we wear them?Shit all it is is threads of cotton. Im not naked. Nor is my bare ass out.Why does it matter? Cause somebody said one day “Eureka! Pants go around the waist!” Is that why? We in as people well not even that we as American put so much on appearance and what other people think. I wish I could wear my damn IQ as a badge on my chest. In big red letters on an LED screen, then maybe we’d look at things that really mattered. Or maybe the level of love I show, or generosity. Cause my pants have nothing to do with that. If we began to do things for morality and value sake rather than for society acceptance we’d be way better off. Murders and rapist and swindlers can wear their pants on their waist and be just as insidious. My pants don’t link to my brain at all. Nowhere at all. More people have fucked America and the black community over in a suit and tie them in a t-shirt, jeans, and Tims. Dig that shit. A man appearance has nothing to do with him as a man. And if more girls recognized that they’d be better off too…but I digress. Shit is to the magnitude that older person would take a neat dummy over a pants sagged genius. We are the new generation. Our struggle is totally different and I think its actually worse because our struggle is mental. Our brains are trained as blacks by visual discrepancies from birth. Everything around us is tailor made to be aversive to our progression in one way or another. Either we’re shown negative or never positive. Back in the day blacks were basically not taught, now were taught be in a different way. Our schooling and the media steers us a certain way. And I think that’s why there’s such a disconnect between our generations. Media has evolved and advanced to a manner which flows directly into the visual style of learning that most of US use. If you think about it from a strategic standpoint it’s masterful. It’s been done all throughout the annuls of time. To divide and conquer. It bothers me so much, the disconnect between the young and the old because in essence we have the same problem and adversary. And while you’re worried about my pants you should be worried about my mental state. I’m getting beat in the head with pants and a belt more then intellect and an education. They’ll never get us to be them, but they can get us to be smart and have the same values. I personally don’t wear loose clothes because I like the uniform straight look, but I don’t hold prejudice or discount anyone who does.
And there’s always the well “what about in the world and interviews…?” I agree totally but to a point. We live in a society not created but us (though created on our backs) so you have to in a sense abide by its rules. And to this I say we create our own. Our own businesses that understand us and play to our strengths. A society that nurtures our creativity and beliefs. When we own our own we can gauge our own on our own scale by our own rules. To create or evoke change it starts with leadership. I see so many of us everyday with skill sets that could easily correlate into something good. US niggas can talk the panties off the baddest broad of any race. US that! Talk the money out of people’s pockets, get petitions signed, talk some legislation up. We’re more than running, shooting, and stealing. And shit I was talking about basketball but in both ways. I’m working to be that change with everything that I write. I try to empower US on some level with everything I write. A moral level, relationship level, emotional level. We gotta do better. We gotta raise our kids to wanna be better. We’re far too smart and creative to be divided, and our culture is far too powerful to not be used to make things better for US.
…and I curse cause those are the most universally passionate words I know.
Dumb people have it EASY. I take that back. Emotional people have it easy, in my opinion. Their lack is their luxury. Ignorance is bliss. Take all the things you know that are hurtful and expunge them, the bliss would be insurmountable. I don’t much like the first sentence because it seems like I’m passing judgement, I’m not. The earth has polar opposites, it’s how things balance. You have the rich and the poor. Strong and the weak. Dumb and the smart. The emotional and the logical. You can’t have one without the other. When I say dumb I don’t mean idiocy I just mean lack of thinking as an initial reaction. Visceral. Visceral meaning not obtained by logic or reasoning but by intuition. Raw. Emotion. I like to that I’m a “thinker”. I put pieces together, take them apart, look at angles, place myself figuratively in places. My thoughts drive my emotion, or at least shape my emotions. Others aren’t like that. Their emotions shape their thoughts. Both ways have their pros and cons. And because I’m on the thinking side I NATURALLY feel it’s better. It’s age old, brain or emotion. It’s speed vs. power. Emotion is tough because you can’t control it. You chilling then BOOM! You feel some type of way. My thoughts go boom like that, but often it takes me longer to arrive to that feeling because it takes longer for my thoughts to come together. I’m sure the emotional people feel the thinkers have it easy too. What can you do. The first sentence is killing me because I know it seems elitist but I don’t mean it in a bad way. I never intend to hurt people. When I write my point of view is what’s gonna protrude. My angle is the strongest because it’s what I know. It’s mine. I own it. When you write you can talk shit about the thinkers and how our over-analysis cause paralysis ok? No? Cool. These are just a few rudimentary raw thoughts about something I plan to tackle. In my own life I want to achieve pure synergy. Both heart and mind. Thoughts and emotions working together 50/50. …TO BE CONTINUED.
*BTW…I didnt proofread this. I wrote it on my NOTES app on my iPhone so sorry.
Sometimes I look at my life and want to cower because I’m deathly afraid. Fear is something else man. No other way to state it eloquently. But fear is a motivator, which way you take it is up to you. Debilitation or determination. Phobias can vary in range, from people to objects. Some people fear occurrences, death, heights. My fear is ever prevalent; I can pull it out anytime and it’s always unnerving. My fear is much like claustrophobia; the fear of enclosed spaces. In my case it’s not an elevator or interment. But more of a stagnant environment. The fear of being trapped in the smallness and oneness of a mediocre life. I believe Waynetitled it “Nightmares of the Bottom”. It’s so real its suffocating. I’ve learned that I see things in a totally different light than that of my contemporaries and my definition follow suit. The definition of my “bottom” or mediocrity may be drastic or fetching in your eyes but are vey real to me.
*Before I continue I just want to say that I don’t intend to hurt anyone’s feelings. And that though some things seem like excuses, nonetheless they still remain reasons. But also that I write to press out the wrinkles in my mind. I write to express and free up space. I write to discover and to help.*
I fear mediocrity so much, and everything that aligns with it. I see situations and traits with people everyday that are going to lead straight to a marginal life and it terrifies me. I see it the most with my people, BLACK PEOPLE, but its cross cultural. So many people live in the fog of rigidity. A life of sameness and static. They wake up and wear the same clothes, to go to the same job, to come to same house, to see and sleep with the same people. I always told myself to try new things and build a versatile dynamic in my life so that wherever I ended up could assimilate with little to no effort. Because flexibility is a precept of a vibrant life. Sorry back on topic…I came into knowledge of this trepidation as I came into knowledge of my wants and the lifestyle I want to live. And I felt then the way I feel now. I’m a thinker and a reader and I delve into the things I see. The social networking phenomena perpetuates these fears and bolsters the foundation therein. The portrait painted by the statuses, tweets, pictures, and games scream a lifestyles of stringency. And that’s not to say that these people aren’t fulfilled in their lives or happy even but TO ME it’s wearisome. Maybe it’s the town I grew up in, but no one is getting out. Its become cliche over the years for movies to show teens in high school hating their towns and just wanting to get away. Its not that I HATE the people or the lifestyle, I FEAR IT. And the life isn’t so bad, it seems happy, the American dream almost. But in the state of JOHN its a nightmare. It often scares me that my aspirations are to go and be something far beyond the confines of Pennsauken (which I love by the way). And its not that these people are poor or live in dilapidated circumstances, its just that the echelon isn’t where I want to be. And I’m not knocking or discrediting anyone, nor being snobbish. Because in reality man of these people are my friends and associates. They are talented and smart. Funny and artistic. A good people. But when I look at the situations I FEAR THAT LIFE. I fear living and creating an existence in the town small town I grew up in, surrounded by the people I’ve know for years. I fear telling my daughter that I went to school, got a job, and live in the same place. I think because my ambitions are on such a higher plateau that I have this view. I just cant fine contentment in the blasé. And when I look at these situation I see little colonies of people doing the same thing. 24-25 married with kids to somebody they met around the way, living in a house around the corner from where they grew up, in a job (not a career) that they probably rather not have. It scares me. I at one point in my life saw myself trotting down this road and one day. And when it hit me it scared me. I immediately reverted and started shunning the things associated and grasping for polarity. And it was very iniquitous to people whom I had dealings. It was to the point where I’d rather have lived a life of dependency that could take to where I wanted to be rather to be independent and go where I didn’t. TO SETTLE IS NOT AN OPTION FOR ME. I’ve never wanted a house or a yard. Never. It was always a loft with an elevator man. Never Applebees or Red lobster, always Buddakhan and Tangerine. There were points in my life that I felt I was crazy because everyone I knew was heading towards a “good” job whereas I wanted different. And as I read this over I pray it propels me because the life I live now, in this light, is pretty scary. Pray for me. But anyways just some thoughts on what I’ve been thinking. Don’t think any different of me.