Stacey Dash and Television's Sassy Band of Black Pundits

This past Thanksgiving Fox News cable anchor Brian Kilmeade asked black host Harris Faulkner whether she planned to make Kool-Aid for the holidays. The collective mouth of black America dropped. Faulkner was incredulous (as black audiences were) and swiftly stated no and moved on with her hosting segment. Nonetheless, she was clearly embarrassed as she should be. What business does she have on anti-black Fox News anyway? Faulkner is just one of many black women trying to make a name for themselves on compromising television shows. Stacey Dash is one of the most high profile black pundits today compromising her blackness for dollars. 

Stacey Dash recently stunned a good half of America with her crude attack on President Barack Obama, saying he could give a shit about the safety of the American people in the wake of the San Bernadino terrorist attack. Her co-panelist went so far as to call Obama a pussy. They've both been censured by Fox for now but she, no doubt, will be back sooner than later as she serves a key purpose of the network-- to create a false sense of inclusion of blacks in GOP politics. However, I found Dash's attack on the president more offensive than white dude's simply because it came out of a black mouth. 

Dash, 48, was an actress known best from her role in the juggernaut '90s hit film Clueless and, boy is she ever without a clue. Costar Alicia Silverstone exhibited more soul than Dash ever has in her role in Queen Latifah's beauty shop comedy, Beauty Shop, portraying a white woman in love with black culture as well as with a black man. Dash has no love for the black man, black women or black culture. Now a frequent Fox News contributor, Dash has a lot to say as a newfound pundit with very conservative ideas. She seems to subscribe to the notion that blacks are pathological and therefore can be contained best under Republican rule.

Dash does not fall far from the Disney-to-discussion-panel pipeline that Raven Symone stepped out of most recently with her gig on ABC's The View. Symone has said some off-the-wall things that have even led her own parents to distance themselves from her rhetoric. This past October, Symone created a firestorm when she suggested she would not hire people with black sounding names. Not only was this hypocritical, as Raven Symone is not exactly what you call a biblical name, but discriminating against someone on the basis of their presumed race is also illegal. Her father penned an open letter to the public asking for understanding, stating that his daughter Symone "sometimes says stupid shit." Pops ain't never lied. 

Symone was the recent subject of a petition circulated on social media that demanded she be fired from The View received over 100,000 signatures. However, her bosses at ABC wrote a letter defending the starlet, suggesting that she is an important part of their team. Or their house. Cooning, the act of demeaning and discrediting your own race of black people through words and action in an effort to entertain, amuse and appease the dominant culture, is as good as wearing Teflon garb on television. A black pundit can gaurantee a spot in daytime or prime time (just pick a time slot) for as long as she sprews self-hating perspectives.

For some reason, television executives think coons make for great television. Tamar Braxton and Lonie Love of The Real, Sheryl Underwood and even Aisha Tyler of The Tallk have been accused of cooning on TV from time to time in recent years. Perhaps it is because the coon or the so called Uncle Tom delivers the confusion and pathology people seek to find in the black community. It is the disconnect between the pundit and the community she is an undesired member of to create controversy where there should be none. One may argue that this clan of sassy talking heads offers fresh perspectives on the black experience. However, what I find is that they regurgitate old stereotypes and myths about the black community and suppress our liberation through cowtowing to white audiences who are comfortable seeing blacks as pathological. These women think the box is the prize when in fact it's everything outside of the box that is the real gift in life. They don't offer fresh perspectives, they offer old hat.

Symone is a millennial, and as such is of a generation of young people who believe there are no boundaries. She believes she does not have to adhere to an identity carved out for her. A part of me wants to applaud her forward thinking while another wants to condemn her for being such a stone cold idiot. In Ancient Greek, an idiot was someone with no friends. I would say this girl has no friends. I would imagine the people she calls friends are no smarter than she. If she does have friends smarter than she is, they need to educate her. If she doesn't wish to go to college, the girl certainly could pick up a book here and there. I doubt she has ever cracked open a non-fiction book written by a black person. You can always tell those who have no black writers in their libraries. It's written all over their worldview.

Then there are those Sisters who surprise you. I was horrified to see that The Apprentice contestant Omarosa is supporting Donald Trump for president. This is the height of coonery. At the core, coonery is opportunism at its worst. These are the type of folks Harriet Tubman wouldn't even be able to save. She was famously quoted as saying, "I freed a thousand slaves. I could've freed a thousand more if they knew they were slaves."  

There seems there will always be a class of black people who are easily seduced by the white confidence game that allows them to believe they can be a part of the dominant culture when in fact these people serve to be tokens of the dominant culture. They are tauted out to us as if to say, "You too could be a part of The American Dream," however, the dominant culture has no intention of embracing black America as part of the dominant culture. This is evident in the large number of unemployed, underemployed, undereducated and incarcerated blacks in America. American cities and schools are as segregated as they ever were and that's the way they want it.

One of my homeboys though, he could give a damn about Stacy Dash's politics. According to him, she's smoking hot fine. And that's all that matters. There in lies the rub. No matter how ugly she is on the inside, the heifer is drop dead gorgeous by all physical metrics. Black just don't crack, you know what I mean? Plus, she's rich, Bitch. Wealth comes with power and both, without vigilance, corrupts those it's bestowed upon. I get it, she's a bit long in the tooth for modeling and leading ladiehood, so why not use her self hate to make mo' money? Sure, she could buy me twice over. However, I am not for sale and I'm not buying what Stacey Dash and the band of sassy black pundits put down. Whether you realize it or not, we are in a race war with the dominant culture. As the war gets warmer, the more coons will come to the surface. We must find a cure for coonery before it's participants eradicate the few gains made by the black community left, just 150 years out of slavery and into the frying pan of a so called Post-Racial Era that gave rise to Stacey Dash and the like.

Forever Punany, With Love: The Myth of Men

Sometime, do you ever just sit back and think, "Man, I've been through some shit?" Going through cheating fits right into that "some shit" category. Cheating is a hell of an obstacle to overcome in a relationship. Especially when you have no eyewitness evidence. I recently dealt with a cheater. To this day, I'm convinced the guy is part con man, part Svengali. For I was under a spell that took me 4 years to break. I'll tell you about a time I nearly broke free, the time I stumbled on his Forever Pussy.

Forever Pussy is a term I coined to describe a woman who has created a lustful contract with a man to be perpetually sexually available to a man who doesn't claim her in any sense of the word outside of any occasion the two aren't naked together. She feels her pussy power will retain his affections for the remainder of their sexual lives, perhaps even longer. 

                          

Karrine Stephens, the original "Video Vixen" and author is celebrity Forever Pussy. She's been interviewed stating that any man who messes with her must understand that when Wayne calls, Lil Wayne, that is, when he calls, she will go to him so he can, as Celie said in The Color Purple, "do his business on" her. She made the statement publicly while Lil Wayne had famously been dating Christina Milian, causing a rift in the couple's relationship. No never mind though. What forever pussy wants forever pussy thinks she can get. Stephens also expects a decent man to allow her to be another man's Forever Pussy.

I think it's kind of funny the way men and women relate to one another once the idea of sex between the two comes into play. Titalating animal energy is tempered by coy, coquettishness. The Ying and yang of masculine/feminine desire go 'round and 'round in a dance which casts a spell on them both.

By the time "it" goes down, if they've been able to put doing the deed off for some time, the passion can be explosive. I'm talking, break out the fire extinguisher because the heat might erupt into full on combustion. And, don't be a talker. Men fall in love with what they see, while women, we fall for what we hear. There is a popular meme circulating social media that states this fact and goes on to state that this explains why women wear makeup and men, well, they lie.

When presented with the opportunity to have carnal knowledge of a woman, I've been told by a very reliable, worldly man, that men will say anything to gain it. They'll whisper sweet nothings you take to mean everything. He'll wrap you in a bubble of "You are mines-This is mines." And if you are just fool hardy enough, you'll start to believe him.

So, I told this chick she was an idiot for sticking around to be Forever Pussy. I known about her being a part of his past, but I never knew she was part of his life until I found her number. I texted her and she texted me back. And so ensued a plethora of messages back-and-forth. She insisted they had a transcendental kind of love. She thought she had love but she really had was low self esteem. Her standards were way below mine. The only solace I could find was in knowing that I had higher standards than her. Sometimes when dealing with a cheater that's the only comfort you'll ever get.

                       

I could never be Forever Pussy. It's degrading to allow anyone to believe they have the power to control your mind and body perpetually without giving you anything more than googly eyes. Once I get married so goes all my former suitors. I'll leave a trail of broken hearts behind because when I get married it's going to be ride or die love and my man will be the only single, straight man in my life. Single male friends for what? What good could come out of being friends with men who are attracted to you? When you're an attractive female, most all your male friends are attracted to you. That's just a given. I don't desire that type of energy or attention when I get married because I'm investing in my husband not my potential side action.

It's been months, but I still keep those texts. Being Latina, she went so far as to mock my blackness She sent a text to him ("So, you're with a black woman? Ew.") which proves a long standing theory I have that many Latinas think they are superior to black women because black men allow them to believe this. I've got some news for you-- limp hair and pale skin doesn't make for superior genes and most certainly not for a superior human being. She didn't know what I looked like, how many degrees I might have or languages I spoke. The mere fact that I was a Sister made her feel better than me. Brothers act like they got their Yoko Ono in exotic girls, but more often than not they've got a closet racist on their hands.

But, at the end of the day, I couldn't be more mad at her than I was at him. He hurt me to the core. He violated the sacred trust I believe we shared. After catching him in several more lies I decide to call it quits. And boy am I glad I did. I met a wonderful man. We exchanged numbers months ago and spent some time together before I decided I could not go any further with him while still attached the old dude. Lucky for me, he was interested in rekindling our friendship and it has blossomed into a new relationship. You know why? Because he's serious. He's a serious man. They say you can't turn a hoe into a housewife. Well, try turning an international playboy into a husband. It's damn near impossible. I know because I tried. Won't be making that mistake again.

Why I Walked Outta "Straight Outta Compton"

The recent mid-summer release of Universal's "Straight Outta Compton" had the whole country buzzing. Never in all of my years have I seen a black centered film receive so many accolades so fast. So, when I heard people refer to "Straight Outta Compton," a biopic film about the rise of the 1980's gangsta rap group N.W.A., as the best film of the year, I bypassed a search for a free viewing online and went straight for a local theater instead.

I found that the movie missed the mark on setting the cultural context of the situation of blacks in south central Los Angeles, where the notorious city of Compton is located. Instead of exploring the national, even global, implications of their message of resistance against police brutality and the abuses of the system of racism/white supremacy on the black community, they instead dedicate a good majority of the movie reharshing the old beefs all their real fans and true hip hop heads already knew about. 

After about an hour, I was convinced I was witnesses a big pissing contest on a silver screen. Like I care who sucked up behind Jerry Heller (played by"Sideways" star Paul Giamatti), who was his favorite and who in the group Heller, their music business manager, didn't give a damn about to sign and "take care of," with lucrative contracts and cash. Inevitably, supported by Black Muslim leader, Minister Louis Farrakahn, Ice Cube (portrayed by Cube's son, O' Shea Jackson, Jr.) leaves N.W.A. and releases a diss tape that puts its remaining members to shame as sycophants of The White Man.

 

Everyone knows that the music industry is one of the most corrupt businesses to ever operate. Even cottage labels, like Priority Records, have turned into artist farms where both the artists' musical product and integrity are siphoned off for pennies on thousands of product units, making the industry attractive to exploitive, old money interests, gangsters and thugs, like the infamous Suge Knigt. Knight is probably as gang related as Al Caponre. 

Like John Gotti, Knight had become a Teflon Don in his own rigt. For example, the musis mogul survived the 1996 assassination of Tupac (Mackavelli) Shakur in Las Vegas after a less than memorable Mike Tyson match on the Las Vegas Strip. This has all changed reasonly with his indictment on murdering a man on the set of "Straight Outta Compton," in which he backed over two men in a dispute over money. One lived, one died. Knight has cried, even passed out in court, during arraignment. Guess he's not so gangster after all.

Its been reported in major news outlets that the members of N.W.A. were said to be regulars on the movie's set and were insistent Grey recapture exact details when depicting their lives.

Funny thing is they left out a couple of big chunks of N.W.A. history-- their social impact on the black community's resistance to police brutality and, well, what I would call the rise of gangster rap.  Gangsta rap is a genre of Hip-Hop many black music historian believe was ushered in at the height of the conscious rap movement in order to kill the empowering unity being expressed and felt in the community. Gangster rap propagated not only a view of the police as enemey number 1, but of the next black man, one not in your so called gang set, as a close second. Murder rings out in this genre first explored by Rap forefather Ice-T as an valuable means of exacting revenge on "a nigga." 

Another huge impact of N.W.A.'s gangster rap is what I call the proliferation of a "Pimps Up, Hoes Down" mental code of the streets that still reverberates in the culture throughout rap and hip-hop for some 25 years and counting. I would say the impact of this music on black male/female relations has been devastating. Let's face it. An ethnic group of men who disrespects its women will never find respect in the world, to quote both Dr. Henrik Louis-Clark and Brother Malcolm X. Today, the misogyny is so ubiquitous that many women themselves have taken to calling themselves, "bitches," "hoes" and the tamest insult of them all, "females." When Queens degrade themselves they can't bring anything good in abundance to the black community's nourishment table. These women who subscribe to this music may themselves become the thing the music creates, just another thirsty, gold-digging bitch.

The opening scene is set in 1986 inside a crack house where dope dealer (soon to be rapper) Eazy-E (Jason Mitchell) is conducting a business meeting. Needless to say, the deal goes left and Eazy escapes with his life but not a grown folk's lesson which is you live by the sword, you die by the sword. Eazy is not alone in this aspect. A few of his associates are also living on the edge. Dr. Dre (Corey Hawkins) dreams of music instead of getting the day job his mom has been hounding him about. Ice Cube (a soon to be father) desires a legacy. DJ Yella (Neil Brown) is looking to increase his pussy cache and MC Ren (Aldo Hodge) appears to Be a true Creative and wants to get the anger out. They come together to form N.W.A., that's Niggas With Atttitudes, realease the LP 'Straight Outta Compton' in 1988 and history is made.

I will find a bootlegger on purpose to cringe through the end of this movie. Dr. Dre and O'Shea have gotten enough of my money the past 25 years. And for what? So Dre can hand out millions to a white school and Ice Cube can be family-friendly? These opportunist have done nothing for the community they come from. Reportedly, Dre is offering the Compton community the royalties from his latest album entitled "Compton: A Soundtrack" to a cultural center there. Who-hoo! He didn't make USC, a extremely wealthy private California university that has among the lowest black enrollment (despite being in an area where more black Californians live per capita than anywhere else in the state) in Southern California, wait to get his coin.

So, there is a buzz. We're talking Oscars now. I've heard it time and again with "Straight Outta Compton." How can I put this?  Um, I don't think so. While Gray is a talented director, the film could never be a contender. If by some miracle, it does receive a nod or two, the motives of Hollywood in acknowledging this black film would be "show business" business as usual, dubious at best. In other words, this film has no shot in hell of receiving any Golden statues shaped as the Egyptian God Ptah.  Nonetheless, its filmmakers are no doubt taking a que from that Earth, Wind & Fire track and dancing in September as the film has grossed nearly $200 billion dollars. The film cost a mere $28 million to produce. Can you say winning? 

All and all, I don't hate this film or this classic '80s rap group. I just didn't want to stick around to watch egos at play. Glad to hear Dre has apologized for years of physically assaulting women, such as his artist and long time girlfriend Mi 'chelle and the hip-hop journalist Dee Barnes. The film would have better served itself and the audience by using a much larger lens to capture the full scope of all N.W.A. meant to my generation of Generation X'er's seeking justice and respect in a system of racism/white supremacy intent on marginalizing us and our lives, even taking our lives at will. 

Writers Write, Right?

I have so much respect for those writers who hash out verses daily, extrapolating at the crack of dawn, whether for the sake of money and fame or altruistically to connect their art and soul with the collective conscious, they persist in having their voices heard. I'm not that type of writer. This has bothered me since I was quite young.

Nonetheless, I began my writing career at 15, publishing my first piece in The San Jose Mercury News, a paper made famous through the reporting of Gary Webb. Mr. Webb cracked the code on the CIA Iran Contra Crack Cocaine connection. His investigation uncovered that The CIA flooded black communities with drugs in the late 1980's in his news series, "Dark Alliance." I actually invited Mr. Webb down to San Francisco from San Jose to discuss "Dark Alliance" with a group of young writers after the Merc published his series. He was the real deal.

 

Webb told us then in our meeting that when he spoke to people who lived there in south-central L.A. he was shocked by what he discovered. Webb reported that residents of these but communities in Los Angeles had come across abandoned train cars on various local train tracks full of loaded arms. According to sources, these weapons were dropped off by the government in an undercover operation to arm local gangs for hot wars between rival groups and to sabotage the advances made by the black community during the Black Power Era of the late 1960s 70s. He was a true newsman, who many believe did not commit suicide, as was reported, but was murdered with two shots to the back of his skull. The recent Hollywood film, "Kill The Messenger" chronicles Webb's journey of working through the journalistic scoop of the century. He was the type of writer I aspired to be-- one who could transform hearts, minds and public policy.

It wasn't long before my work appeared in major newspapers around the country. The devil of doubt on my right shoulder was eclipsed by the angel of productivity on the left. By 21, I was head deep in living a public life. There was nary a topic in my life that was not up for public consumption by me.

          

My identity was my writing career. I breathed it in my nose and tasted it on my palate regularly. It won me favor and critics and it paid the bills. I thought I'd conquered that devil. As it turned out, that creature was merely in a slumber.

By 26, I was struggling with a chronic illness that left me tired and shamed. At that point I felt I had to walk away from writing, my identity, because I could no longer put myself out on a limb and present myself to the world in all my vulnerability as a public person.

After being tagged "anti-Semitic" once I published a piece critiquing Steven Spielberg's look at American slavery and African resistance in his 1997 film, "Amistad," coupled with some erratic behavior of my own I was essentially blacklisted from publishing in the Bay Area. I was too tired to care at the time it all went down and the phone stopped ringing. I craved privacy and space to tend to my wounds. I didn't want to articulate the contents of my mind to everyone I knew and strangers alike because, frankly, it became too hard. There were younger, hungrier Ivy League-educated writers waiting to take my place in a San Francisco second and, in my hazy Bay fog state, I gave my desk up practically on a silver platter.

Fast forward 15 years and I've worn a few hats. I've experienced several identities, including common law wife, fashion associate, personal assistant, dental professional; they've all provided me with what writing couldn't-- privacy. I've also taken notes, working these gigs as an undercover journalist. The jobs themselves all left me with a void because the irony is that the writer in me desires to plug-in in a way that no other of my identities can ever fulfill.

For me, writing has never been about fame and fortune, although fortune would be fantastic. I've turned down offers to be on national television because I wasn't comfortable with the pace and the forum. For me, it's been about the work. It's been about honing my art to the level where the audience feels something, thinks something new, that they can relate to in a visceral way.

So, writers write, right? No, not always. Not me. If the vibe isn't there, I can't get in my zone for weeks, sometimes longer. I don't want to force the process. At points, it becomes about either racking my mind to create the perfect piece on every hot topic or remaining sane. I have to choose sanity.

I don't always want to share my thoughts because I need or want them for myself. Plus, I'm at a place where I want to write about what I want to, not what some publisher thinks sells. In my art, my integrity has to come before what's hot. I marvel at the lengths writers go to be prolific, spinning dribble for dollars. Today we have been told to brand ourselves to get anywhere in the era of social media. I can't knock their hustle. Everyone's got to eat.

I don't desire to offer myself up that way. I've already proven to myself  that I am capable of human connection. Whether I write The Great American Novel or Memoir or not, I know I am (and always will be) a writer.

Spotlight—Lovie Ray Johnson, Jr.

The world has a peculiar way of stealing the innocence of its children while turning a blind eye to the travesty it has committed. Producer/Director/Writer/Actor Lovie Ray Johnson, Jr. seeks to change that with his current film project, “Supernal Darkness,” which focuses on the world of child sex traffic. It is an underbelly Johnson believes powerful forces in real life society perpetuate.

Johnson’s own childhood was not as picture-perfect as many might have perceived a black military family like his to be. One may think that a church going family in the ‘70s would be immune to the sicknesses of depraved souls but Johnson was not so lucky. His first abuser would be a good family friend, his Sunday school teacher. He was 6. The trauma of this experience saddled Johnson with a huge sense of loss. “It opened my eyes to a world you should not be open to at that time,” he says.

The next abuser would be even more shocking. Shortly after moving to a new military base and settling in, Johnson, in retrospect, recalls a close family member began to groom him for the sexual abuse that would follow for several years. His greatest disappointment was that even when he presented his family with the fact that he was being abused they did nothing to address it and protect him. His childhood could be summed up as one one rife with emotion abandonment and betrayal.

All the while, his family was faithful churchgoers. Johnson himself found solace in the church. “It taught me about Jesus. [Because of that] I embrace everybody and realize everybody is trying to find their way to God.”

As soon as Oklahoma City University came calling, Johnson was out the door. Fortunately, he had a talent for basketball that won him a scholarship. He was a tenacious player and recalls playing three to four games with a broken finger. His team was amazed by this but for Johnson working through pain was nothing new. He remembers thinking, “This is what I am, this is what I do.” It wouldn’t be long before he would meet his wife on campus, a lovely Indian American woman. They wed on his birthday.

Johnson’s future looked brighter than a Jumbo-Tron. However, an unforeseen tragedy would rock his world. After receiving a professional contract to play basketball in England and being voted Player of The Year, his wife suffered complications in their first pregnancy. He flew back to The States to care for her. Subsequently his first child, a boy, died in the hospital.

His team sent their condolences with his jersey and a basketball signed by all the players. Johnson would not return to basketball and says he buried the game with his son. Today, his daughter Daesja is the light of his life. His marriage did not survive once he took to the bottle. After 7 years they called it quits and now have an amicable relationship.

Johnson sought to rebound by taking up coaching and personal training. However, he found a groove in acting. Through theater, he could exorcise the demons of his past. He decided to use his talent to tell the story of sex trafficked children, the children without voices.

For “Supernal Darkness,” Johnson teamed up with Dream Propaganda/Osse Prop to create a companion graphic novel.  The Supernal Darkness movie trailer, directed by Jeff Frentzen, is available on YouTube and is gritty and visceral. 

Johnson believes that the absence of both parents in the home lends itself to the vulnerability of children to predators. “We can help prevent a lot of trafficking by paying attention to our children,” says Johnson. “You have to be actively involved with your child. We need to believe our children. The way the world is today there is no one home to take care of them.”

He points a finger at western culture for sexualizing children. Recently we’ve seen an underwear line for 10 year olds at Victoria Secret. Abercrombie & Fitch sold girls’ underwear with the words “eye candy” across them. And let’s not forget those darn pageants.

He sees a connection between the sexualization of children and an underground society of pedophiles who pledge allegiances to satanic worship. “There is so much twisted up in this,” says Johnson. “When you look at kids being taken for sacrifices, the numbers go up during certain times of the year [for ritual sacrifice]. Just because we don’t believe in sorcery doesn’t mean that other people don’t.” He goes on to say, “Evil exists because powerful people want it to exist.”

In 2013, there were 462,567entries for missing children under the age of 18 into the FBI's National Crime Information Center. According to The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, as many as 2,183 children are abducted each day, many by a family member. 

Johnson is currently assembling a team to complete “Supernal Darkness.” In the meantime, he is also trying a hand in the beverage business with a brand of loose-leaf teas with David Edwards at the New Mexico Tea Company. “10 percent of what happens to you is 90 percent how you deal with it,’ says Johnson. “Everyone needs to do their part. Everyone has to pick their part. I’ve chosen my fight.”

Are Rioting And Looting Ever Valid?

By Andrea N. Jones 

So, tell me how America has changed in the new millennium? How America loves your black or brown skin now that we've reached, according to some of all races, "post-racial America?"

Ferguson, MO isn't too different from Lakeland, FL in 1938, as captured here.

Is rioting ever valid? I say, yes, it's valid. The anger is valid. A riot is quite symbolic. Black communities are treated as "liquid money," as we are called by some whites who notoriously profit in our communities where black business cannot. Most businesses in the hood are non-black owned, which is a travesty in itself. It's a stark contrast from back in the day when black businesses ruled in black communities during the segregation era. 

Integration has proven to be problematic for black communities all across the country as black businesses struggle to find a market when blacks have taken their business into other communities. 

Gentrification and, what I call "The Great Migration"-- the recent displacement and movement of folks in historic numbers at of the beginning of the 21st century-- has left black communities in shambles. Urban Triage, an unofficial state policy which allows the community to essentially spin out of control and let it's black citizens literally dying in the streets, is real. 

Rioters destroy, what Stephen King might call, "needful things" that

 they are oppressed by. What are we talking about? We're talking about shiny shit that a cop will shoot you dead for to protect his or her bosses and the business/corporate community's profit margin. It's about a bunch of crap made in China because the U.S. deindustrialized 50 years ago, cutting these communities off from life-saving employment. 

People who riot do so in a deliberately defiant act against American Consumerism. This is not rocket science. The only thing the government and business understand are interrupted profit. You tell me, why should we protect the wolves (very well insured dogs) in our very communities? What, may I ask, have they done for you lately?

White folks had very little before "discovering" Africa in 1443. This, I believe, is why white people are obsessed with material things, placing them over people. Hell, they've made corporations people in this country, like that's even possible literally or even esoterically. However, it benefits the power structure/paradigm so they make it law. 

The white power structure goes to great lengths to protect worthless material things and to subjugate black people in our own communities. They stole us from Africa, stole our resources and labor and continue to steal the resources and wealth of the black community in various "legal" ways.

It's time we truly unite against what in Africa is called Maafa, The African Holocaust, and be heard. What will you do to end police brutality against black and brown? Every voice matters which is why God gave us voice to begin with as we evolved from up to 2 mllion years ago (by current scientific estimates) in to the original people. 

All so-called races evolved from African ancestors. In this sense, all people are evolved straight outta Africa. Black people are white folk's ancestors but they want us dead. 

In the Belly of The Beast, black people continue to be marginalized, oppressed and murdered. By best estimates (mind you because data are not accurately kept by the federal government on nationwide) every 28 hours a black person is killed by a non-black officer (root of "officer" is "overseer," by the way) or vigilante.

White folks' ancestors were so sick and twisted that it's hardly any wonder why society is crazy as hell today. They came to us in 1443, presenting us with, what I call s.s.-- shiny shit, glass beads, mirrors and various cheap trinkets. We welcomed them. They destroyed us. Over 570 years later and Maafa continues. 570 plus years of stealing/killing Africans and "legally" pillaging our riches; yet (due to the dominance of our genes and skin), we still stand! 

AIDS, Ebola, the lengths the world has gone to rape it's very own mother and subjugate its ancestors. If you think the white man saved us, think again. We saved him (He was dying in his own filth in Europe)! We don't need them. They need us and what is rightfully ours! Don't EVER get that twisted, k? 

Racism/White Supremacy is so sick and twisted that I can hardly breathe. Looking up to white folks as a standard to live by is simple lunacy. African people everywhere are the moral compass of the world! Souljahs, unite! Its time to wake up!

Mike Brown's murder in cold blood, like all these cases of men, women and children, deserves justice. So, I ask, what will you do to stop police brutality and take the law to task? Some still think we aren't really ready for a real fight. I say the only way to prepare is to ACT prepared. Do you agree? 

Wanted: Black Women and Black Men To Build A Nation!

As of late I've engaged in heated debates with other black women who are ready, willing and able to date men of other races out of frustration with how many black men mistreat, neglect, disrespect or abandon them. I, on the other hand, still value nothing higher than the black family. I also have a high opinion of black men still. It's perpetual. My love spans over 200,000, when Lucy was my mother, ya dig? Enough metaphysics. I say all that to say that Black Love dates back to an unfathomable antiquity. 500 years of Maafa, The African Holocaust, cannot wreck that for me. This is why I love films like "The Wiz" (with that great opening scene of Auntie and Diana Ross Dorothy around the dining table, 20 deep; talking, laughing and connecting), Maya Angelou's only Hollywood directing gig, "Down on the Delta," Diane Carroll's "Claudine," etc. Listen to this smart, young sistah breakdown The African Diaspora's dire situation and how badly we need to come together to strengthening the black family for the good of our communities around the world.