Archive for the ‘Freedom’ Category

Color Conscious…

November 7, 2011

“Brownings, Please” So exclaimed the headline of the Jamaica Gleaner, one Sunday, September last. Even before reading the article, and fully aware that I am still learning to fully comprehend variegate Jamaican vernacular, I felt quite secure in my determination that this was not about cooking. I was reminded of a TV programme I watched last year while flying back to Portland, Oregon from Montego Bay.

That show was CNN’s “Kids On Race: The Doll Study Revisited.” In a recreation of a 1947 experiment, a group of children were asked to choose the good, bad, ugly, pretty or “one that looks like me” doll from drawings ranging in hue from pale pink to dark chocolate, or, white to black. Almost across the board when asked to select the “doll” with positive traits the children chose the “white” one. When picking the negatives, yep you guessed it, they picked the darkest dolly, the “black” one.

Though not my first time observing this type of experiment and sadly, not surprised, my heart still ached as I questioned, again, how it was that, Anno Domini 2011, sixty plus years on, with the leader of the “free” world a milk-coffee-colored cousin, that the “barely out of diapers” future leaders of our world (and as current headlines imply, suit clad corporate leaders) continue to learn, and believe to the detriment of hue-manity, these putrid but persistent lessons? What are we adults teaching our children? And why are we adults perpetuating the madness? Obviously something is a miss. (Incredulous, I ask myself, and anyone who can hear, “Why are we still having this conversation?”) Something is not working, or then again, maybe that was the plan all along. But I digress.

It has shocked and saddened me during my journeys to the land of my parents, my ancestors; the home of my own vagabond, or wandering, soul, that the same self-hatred and disdain for one’s darkness, blackness, abundance of melanin, visibly evident African heritage, that reigns and rages, in the United States of America (and beyond) permeates this – rich, bounteous of spirit, heart and life – little island of Jamaica.

My mother had told stories of when as a child, being darker of hue and shackled with the twin shame of poverty, her “place” was in the back of the classroom at the “good” school she attended, and even that only because her mother washed its floors. Still, I say to myself that was then…

Will we, and I mean all of hue—manity, learn the truth of whom we truly are and what skin shade simply is at its core? Can we purge ourselves of the poisons we have been fed, disguised as lessons and learning; the blatantly illogical yet pernicious lies that corrupt us, our colors, our consciences, our compassion? Can we reclaim our power, take back our hearts, reaquaint with ourselves? Can we become the conquistadores of our own personal Freedom?

What if one knew that melanin is what colors us, what paints us uniquely in shades from milk to midnight; that technically, it is due either to abundance or deficiency, that we humans become black or white.

What if it was common knowledge that melanin is what darkens our skin, our hair, our eyes? Melanin helps us hear, colors our hearts, our blood, liver, the marrow in our bones, and gave “birth” to the stars.

What if you knew that melanin is protector, reflector, diviner, deflector, healer, highway-to-the-Divine; the almighty alchemist; the chemical of life? One-drop being sanctifier not stain – the key to life’s door?

What if you knew that billions of dollars of global government monies have been spent, and are continuing to be spent, studying melanin…and its magic?

Melanin is the most absorbent material known to man. It is melanin in a synthetic form that provided the insulation protecting the electrical wires of the now retired NASA Space Shuttle.

What if these truths were known to all human kind?
Imagine with me for a moment…

A rending of the cloak of inferiority, victim-hood, self-hatred, worn by the melanin-infused among us; this cloak woven and gifted “in the name of love, and God.”

The silencing, once and for all, of the perpetually repeated lies of white supremacy. The diminishing of the potency and power of color prejudice, and its big daddy racism.

We all, each one of us of every hue, have (are) melanin. What if we all knew and understood this?

What if commonsense/the universe/Sophia/wisdom/Goddess/God, whispered and we listened, really listened to her, “If you need a touch of melanin just to function, might that suggest the more you have, the greater thou can be?

Could humankind walk hand in hand, freed, no longer needing to run, hinder, hide, detach, crush, control, squelch, the “other;” able finally, to let go, relax and open to the unique foibles and fortes of each individual, no matter their skin tone?

Imagine knowing, deep in your heart, in the marrow of your bones, in your soul, in your melanin, that, like chlorophyll to plants, melanin to man, is the alpha and the omega?

No person, rule, wrong, “Doll Study” or “Brownings, Please” could ever take that away.

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Thanksgiving/A Day of Mourning

November 25, 2010

Today, November 25, 2010, is another one of those all-American Thanksgiving holidays. It is a day when those privileged to be American (or reside there) are freed from the grind of work – and paid – so they may gather with their friends and families and stuff themselves silly on turkey, booze and all the other accoutrements associated with the Thanksgiving celebration. To revel and take pride in the benevolence, fortitude, generosity, and all-around goodness of the American pioneers, and particularly in this case, the Pilgrims. Maybe the dinner table is decorated with colorful paper turkeys created by the Bobs and Belindas, and Shaniquas,  Johns and Sulayvans under the guidance of and assisted by gluey digited teachers.

It is a shame that the Thanksgiving tale we are told is a lie (along with lots and lots and lots of other tales we have been told, but today is Thanksgiving’s turn.) The actual truth is just a teensy, weensy, bit, (and I do use this term facetiously) different.

For an Native American perspective and to read a surpressed speech click here.

We are all human beings made from the same matter, with equal ability for malevolence and good. Unfortunately, due to the wickedness of some and the intentional withholding of information and truth, we are not meant to realize that we know this. It is inherent in our hearts. But our hearts are so hardened and coated in crust and learning.

Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere.” We, humanity cannot heal, cannot come together until we re-remember that we all are one. Dare to be empowered. Free your mind so you may liberate your heart, so it can beat in unison with all.

Enjoy your turkey, but chew, swallow, and be sated, in the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Human salvation …

October 23, 2010

This Martin Luther King quote was in an email I received today. It resonated so much that I simply had share.

Does it speak to you?

‘Love, my unique personal love story is writing itself’

September 14, 2010

Dear Love,

I have been thinking a lot about you lately, Love. No, I am not submerged in some fiery new fascination. Quite the contrary! I have been pondering how you have appeared in my life, Love.

As a little girl I knew you well, Love. All pink hearts, apple pies, deportment and discipline. They told me. I knew it to be true, in-between. Then Love, you told me, “I beat you because I Love you. Never mind the welts, they will heal and you will be strong, steadfast; a person of whom I can be proud. Besides, it was the same love that grew me, and look, it did me no harm, I am fine.”

Is it standard practice, Love, to declare (on tape no less,) “Don’t take any shit from my daughter!” on her wedding day?

I grew up, (well, I had several birthdays,) and you Love, became red roses, opened doors, chivalry, providence and protection. I believed them then too, in-between. This time because I needed to.

Doesn’t the traditional “fairytale” wedding vow state, “In sickness and in health…?” So why Love, did you leave me fearing your care in the event of my incapacity?

“All you need is love.” Says the song. Has anyone ever asked what kind of love, Love?

Remember when you used to insist, “I do not want to hear you say, “Can’t” because you can. You forgot to tell the truth Love, that anything I did accomplish needed to remain behind you, in your shadow.

It was you Love who held me, manacled-by-man, arms behind my back, as you instructed love to beat me, break me, put me in my place.

“I love you!” You shout, type, tell, proclaim, at every opportunity. But then you shut me out, Love. “Send me to Coventry.” That is what we call it where I am from. “Of course you know I love you but you may not come in for your presence renders me invisible. Might you bend, shuffle, dim?” You confess in inebriated verbosity, Love.

Love you have a multitude of faces, forms and fundamentals. You are not always kind and you are most certainly not always nice. Quite frankly, Amor, you have been for me, to use English vernacular, a royal pain in the bottom.

So Love, the purpose of this letter is to bid you adieu, so long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye. I will no longer accept you in my world as you are. Yes, I am fully aware that there will be consequences for my brave, or foolish, decision (only I shall know the final outcome,) but I need to take the risk. For Love, it is, at this juncture in my life, do or die my darling.

I know the love that I need is out there in the ether, in the air! Love that laughs and likes little old me — warts and all. Love that is communicative, caring and kind; that lingers with neither hurt nor smart; that is affectionately loquacious both in silence and in song. Love that will share time, and breath, and space with me — willingly and wantonly.

Do you know what I believe, Love? I believe that this love, my special, particular, peculiar, kind of love, lives inside of me, and even as we “speak,” Love, my unique personal love-story is writing itself. It is up to me. In fact, it is only me, Love, who can publish it, set it free.

Throughout my years of acquaintance with you in your various guises, Love, the most sacred lesson I have gleaned is, “Love is the key to liberation.”

I am using my key, Love. How about you? Have you the courage to set it free?

This column was published in the August, 2010, edition of The Southwest Community Connection newspaper.