Martin's Dream

The political landscape in America is changing. Party lines, race, sexuality, and religion have divided us more than ever. Ignorance is running rampant. Tolerance is running low. We are still struggling to realize Martin's Dream. We have yet to hold certain truths to be self-evident. We still don't believe that all men are created equal. We have yet to sit at a table of brotherhood. Mississippi has not been transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. Black and Brown children are not being judged by the content of the character. Our nation, now more than ever, seems to be determined to undermine the progress of the last fifty years. We are moving closer to embracing Jim Crow and redlining and calling it the norm. Systematic racism and sexism is alive and well. I often want to ask, whatever happened to Martin's Dream? Do we still want freedom to ring from every hill and mountaintop? Do we want to stay woke or are we content with the nightmares on our street?

“Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” Martin Luther King Jr., Strength to Love, 1963

Made

We are products of our environment. They shape our perspectives and sometimes dictate the experiences that mold us into who we become. I often wonder if little black boys were given books instead of balls would we have so many athletes? If little black girls were given legos instead of baby dolls would we have more engineers? We have been conditioned to be self-made, self-taught, and selfish. I've always likened the black experience to crabs in a barrel, which is unfortunate because it's a lose-lose situation. 

I grew up in New Orleans, a city known for its murder rate, decadence, hedonism, and liberalism. I can't say it is the best place to raise a child, but I wouldn't change my childhood for anything. I learned life lessons fast and young. I learned Louisiana history and current caste systems. I recognized early that colorism is real, and I could not pass the paper bag test. My last name was not French enough to be considered Creole. I was not athletically inclined so, education would be my lane.

I excelled in all things arts and literary related. I wrote poems and performed them all around the city. I listened to Big Daddy Kane and Special Ed on Q-93. I memorized verses from Monie Love and Queen Latifah. I was given a pen. I was given self-expression. I was given the opportunity to re-invent myself every time I wrote. I was given the chance to create my own reality. 

And understand I got the gift of speech
And it's a blessin, 
So listen to the lesson I preach,
I talk sense condensed into the form of a poem,
Full of knowledge, from my toes to the top of my dome,
I'm kinda young, but my tongue speaks maturity,
I'm not a child, I don't need nothin for security
I get paid when my record is played, to put it short,
I got it made - Special ED

For your listening pleasure: https://youtu.be/MYUPmiT-Yzw

The Gift

I hope you got everything on your Christmas list. I hope you were able to give what your heart desired to those that you love the most. I hope that this Christmas morning has brought you joy and happy memories. I hope that you are feeling loved and blessed because you are loved and blessed. I hope that you are reminded that God sent his son to die for you, and that is the greatest gift that you could receive this holiday season. I hope that you remember that you are a gift to all those around you. Merry Christmas! 

Justice

It seems that the old adage, "what happens in the dark will come to light," is ringing true now more than ever. The past indiscretions of Hollywood executives, politicians, and other men in power is finally coming into the light. Women are coming forward about things that had been brushed under rugs and whispered about in back rooms. They are not just living their truth, but telling it as well. I applaud their efforts, but I wonder if they will ever have justice. I wonder if a slap on the wrist in an all boy's club will be enough. What does justice look like for these women?What does justice look like for the victims that never made headlines? What does justice look like for all the colored girls who considered suicide? What does justice look like for victims long buried?  
 

"I'm for truth, no matter who tells it. I'm for justice, no matter who it's for or against."- Malcolm X

Pristine

The remnants of Atlanta's winter wonderland are melting. We rarely get snow in Atlanta. So, when we do, it is epic. This past weekend the trees were covered in snow. Kids were sledding in Piedmont Park, while others were making snowmen in their yards. It was beautiful to see the city covered with a beautiful white sheet of snow. Everything looked pristine. There were no remnants of last week's election. There were no remnants of corruption. There was no evidence of Atlanta's racial and socio-economic divide, just beautiful white snow. Sometimes, I wish everything could be covered with a white sheet of snow. Sometimes, I wish we could see people, things, and situations through a lens of original intent. I think that would change our perspective on a lot of things if we had a fresh understanding. Try to imagine your perspective of your world if you had a new outlook on life. Let it snow! 

Cultivate

Cultivation is a very old gardening principal. It requires breaking up and loosening the soil to optimize the retention and penetration of air, water, and nutrients, and removing weeds. Many times, we plant seeds and don't cultivate the ground, literally and figuratively. We fail to turn the soil of our hardened hearts. We don't take the time to remove the weeds of distraction, fear or doubt. We allow our dreams to grow and be tainted by environments we did cultivate properly. Before you start making resolutions, cultivate your ground. Create a pristine environment for dreams and relationships to grow in. Turn the soil. Pick the weeds. Cultivate!

Narrative

Growing up in New Orleans was a fascinating story all by itself. Add in Mardi Gras, Jazz Fest, Essence, and Bayou Classic and you've got stories for days. I went to a very Afrocentric Baptist Church that had the seven principles of Kwanzaa on the wall. I knew what the African Diaspora was before I learned American or Louisiana History. Adella Adella the storyteller visited my school and told me stories about Flying Africans. I read all about Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters. I learned all about my rich history, and what the African American narrative had been in this country.

Currently, that narrative is changing. We are reconstructing that story. We are our ancestors wildest dreams, and we have the ability to rewrite our narrative. We no longer have to stay within the confines of the page. We are telling our own stories in film and television. We are launching lucrative businesses. We are entrepreneurs. We are writing our own narrative. What's yours?