Brother Askia’s answer to the question should Black people work in American law enforcement and military.
Brother Askia’s answer to the question should Black people work in American law enforcement and military.
Dr. Amos Wilson reveals the fundamental basis and cause & reason for the unfortunate circumstances of self hate among people of African decent.
1968 was by far the most confusing year in American history for white people. It was the year that for the first time in modern and western history, white people had become openly defenseless, fearful, nervous, and simply scared of Black people. Almost fifty years later and absolutely nothing has changed about the dynamics of white people’s overall perceptions of Black people. The only thing that has evolved is white people’s willingness to admit to their fear of Black people, and yet most still will not.
The late nineteen sixties and mid seventies was a time when white people had for once consciously and subconsciously considered Black people as unpredictable. Before then, it was a fairly simple assessment to place Black people into an easily contained afterthought compartment within the consciousness of white people. The main factor in this mentality was the prevailing apparatus of Black people’s fear driven by racism and discriminatory brutality against Black people for centuries. The tides had abruptly changed when in the late sixties, Black people had become more willing to express their rights and fight for them. The new atmosphere of conflicting views and color lines brought about a riddling society which created an air of uncertainty.
With the advent of color television, live newscasts, yet less sophistication in media censorship, the entire world was able to see the reality of American racism. It was then without a doubt and apparent that the leader of the so called free world was a complete hipocracy and unable to be trusted as a government elite in the global stratosphere. It was time for America to clean up the act. The late seventies ushered in a new sense of codes in conduct, particularly in the realm of politics. With the new generations of unpredictable Blacks who could now wage what white people believed to be street wars and fight for their rights, it was time that white people learn new ways to predict the movements and cultural advancements of Black people.
The nineteen eighties showed white politicians were very swift with a solution and quite timely to the disadvantage of Black people. While the country and even the world began to fully enjoy the benefits of illicit drugs openly and freely, American politicians saw an opportunity to place well written codes onto Black people without appearing to be racist bigots. The stage was set to put the entire Black population back into a state of fear and predictability. The introduction of the War on Drugs and its prime asset called crack created a new paradigm in the ways white people could conceptualize and legitimize their fears, and ultimately their racist sense of predictability of Black people. This destructive and neglectful thinking of white Americans allowed for laws to authorize unjust and wrongful imprisonments, and countless murders by police of unarmed and innocent Black people.
No matter how much the facts are present and the truth is in front of everyone’s face, law enforcement’s sole purpose has ultimately been in place to keep minorities in America controlled and contained, yet no authorities or officials will admit this. The most hated minority to law enforcement in America has always overwhelmingly been Black people. By the late 20th century, when it was no longer acceptable to blame the problems of American society on Black people outright, politicians simply replaced Black with crime. It was a very simple transition which to this very moment is still causing turmoil among America’s Black communities with no end in sight.
Unless the observable truth is heeded and its unmistakable injustices are ceased then the inevitable yet avoidable reality is soon to come. The day when Black people will again be unpredictable to white people.
You are scared, Black America. Not me. I am a fearless warlord bent on the overthrow of all of my enemies. I will take absolutely no prisoners. This warning goes for all who transgress my will, including the Black man who is loyal to my enemies. I write this to you in plain English. Take heed!
I am the Mau Mau. I am a nation within my own self. My borders are universal. I defend my borders to the death and I will not die. I impose strict tariffs on foreign exchanges. I set rigid embargoes on transgressive aliens. I do not invite the merchant from outside of my own market. He and his children are not welcome to satellite just beyond my horizons. This is no empire or kingdom. This is the law of the universe. Anyone who does not obey will be struck down and so will their descendants. There is no economy without my own permission.
My market only adheres to the Mau Mau codes. Mau Mau markets only. That means no products in or out that are not products of Mau Mau. The penalty for not observing this simple code is annihilation.
The border of Mau Mau is unlimited. Wherever there is Mau Mau there is Mau Mau law. This simple understanding will not be misunderstood by anyone, or else face extermination.
Tariffs in excess are imposed on all foreigners. These levies must be paid and all tolls must be garnished by the rule of Mau Mau. Any deviation of this directive will result in execution.
An embargo on all products alien to Mau Mau is predetermined by Mau Mau law. There is no inspection and only an exclusion of all alien products. Any breach of this statute is subject to the policy of immediate eradication.
I am Mau Mau and this is my eternal will.
“In my opinion, not only in Mississippi and Alabama, but even right here in New York City you and I can best learn how to get real freedom by studying how Kenyatta brought it to his people in Kenya, and how Odinga helped him, and the excellent job that was done by the Mau Mau Freedom Fighters. In fact, that’s what we need in Mississippi… In Mississippi we need a Mau Mau. In Alabama we need a Mau Mau. In Georgia we need a Mau Mau. Right here in Harlem in New York City we need a Mau Mau.” – Malcolm X
Because that old shit matters!
I hate when people bring up something that I did in the past which they may not have liked. I probably apologized for it and expressed my will to never do it again. What is done is done and I cannot change the past. I would love the idea of being forgiven as well as having the done deed forgotten, but that is never fully the case. I may be forgiven, but what I have done will not be forgotten. The act of before and its affect are what I must now live with and deal unto accordingly, even appropriately if I desire to maintain my own peace.
No one wants to constantly be reminded of their own transgressions against others. We would all like to be seen by others as the perfect model of a human being. If it were up to all of us, our wrongs would simply be rights. That is everyone’s ideal solution to their deviated and delinquent behavior. Why else would a misdoer argue to justify his or her wrongdoing? It is only to appeal to someone else’s empathetic nature and to coerce their agreement to righten themselves being done wrong. We all do it! It is the civilized thing to do. Tell me I am a fool to my face so that you and I can continue the cooperative effort of allowing you to mistreat me. That is the name of the game. Rarely does the argument ever end so peacefully. Usually someone has to form a compromise to assuage an ensued and heated debate over the misdeed. If not, that is where violence comes in handy. “Oh, you don’t like me treating you bad? Take this ass whooping! That will show you what is good for you.” There, the fence of civility has been cleared and we have entered into savagery. It should never go there, but unfortunately it does and always will sometimes.
What if we forgot when someone mistreated us? Aha! Some of you never gave that a thought I bet. I do not mean forgot in the philosophical or theoretical sense like, “oh don’t worry. I forgot that even happen.” I am talking about in the literal and physical sense like “hold up, what happened? When? For real? You lyin’! Nah that shit ain’t happen… but for real though?” The fact we can recall traumatic experiences in life is a defense mechanism and it serves a very valuable purpose. Our cognitive recollection can remind us of what we do not enjoy and if working properly will help us position ourselves to never let or allow what causes grief to negatively affect us again. Without memory and the ability to rewind and playback our experiences, bad as well as good, we would be suffering from amnesia (a brain disorder).
White folks, the rest of this is for you:
Ironically, we all have the innate ability to forgive. The catch is we have to find it in ourselves to choose to forgive being mistreated. Forgiveness is very similar to forgetting, although the two concepts are not the same. Forgiveness allows us to say to ourselves, “you know what, I have to stop thinking about what happened in the past all the time. I’ll never let it happen again though!”
To be forgiven for mistreating someone means that we have to allow ourselves to be accountable for what we have done to that other person. When we allow ourselves to be forgiven we have to also accept that who we mistreated will probably never forget what we did to them, and from time to time will remind us that they have not forgotten for safe measure. This must be done in order for them to further remind us that they intend to never let it happen again, but will forget about it until the next time they feel the need to remind us again.
Memory lasts in time and matures. It grows and becomes a new life. It takes on different names and languages. It has homes and styles itself in the latest and modern fashions. It has children and parents. It is a living, breathing, reproducing organism. Memory is essential to a society and its order. Memory passes on to generations and raises them. It feeds them their favorite foods, sings them their favorite songs, buys them their first car, helps them raise their own children. Memory reminds us of all the good things that have happened throughout human history, as well as the bad. We are the memory of us all from before, in the present, and into the future. We are accountable for our history, whether we were physically here to witness it, or it was passed down to us through memories. We can forgive ourselves and allow ourselves to be forgiven, but we will never truly forget. That old shit matters to us all.
“Con coco o sin coco?” Is what brothers and sisters ask when you ask them if they have any weed to smoke in the Dominican Republic. With cocaine or without cocaine? In the Dominican Republic cocaine is a more socially accepted drug of choice than marijuana. Weed is actually looked down upon in the way smoking crack is looked upon here in the United States. This was a very bizarre state of affairs when I realized the ramifications of such a construct. This meant that in the Dominican Republic, I was a crack head and the coke heads were the laid back stoners. My how the truth can be malleable and ambiguously obscure.
When I went to a close friend’s potluck a week ago, who is actually Dominican himself, I kept hearing him and his cousin yell out “I’m in love with the coco!” They finally played the video for everyone and we all were glued to the monitor as we watched a man sitting at a kitchen table with his friends, seemingly spreading powdered cocaine over it with playing cards and rolling up blunts. How simply sensational of a sight I thought! Who cannot relate to this image? How can you not see how relevant this scene is? I thought all of this at the same time as I thought how disgusting the video was. The mundaneness of what Hip Hop or Rap has degraded to. Who could support such garbage! These were the conflicting debates floating in my mind as I continued to stare and listen to what one of our good friends from college described as a nursery rhyme. He was right. The lyrics were so simple a two year old could recite and comprehend them after one listen. It was actually kind of disturbing to think of the influence this video will have on younger viewers.
It was stuck in my head. I walked home with my girlfriend singing “I’m in love with the coco” out loud. We would both laugh and shake our heads at our own senseless embarrassment and juxtaposed affinity for the simple yet catchy tune. I asked her to play it again when we got home. We watched the whole thing, twice. I watched it again, alone with my headphones. I bobbed my head. I lip synced the single syllable lyrics to myself. I smiled at the screen. I enjoyed it. It was addictive.
The beat! The foundation of the auditory retention is the low frequency of the sub bass line in the background music. The engineer of the musical score synthesized the reverberations of the low tones very well, and in unison the sound effects which work congruently with the bass are mesmerizing. If there were no lyrics, the song will still have a profound affect onto the listener. I can imagine watching the video with the instrumental only and still fully understanding the theme of the song. Without a doubt, like many other current rap hits, the beat carries the song and without it I sincerely believe it would not work or feel the same. The producer and his engineer did an excellent job.
The lyrics are simple, as already stated. However, the lyrics are contrasting to what is the current political atmosphere in the Black community. Whether Genasis intended to cause a debate or not is not the question. He has most certainly done so. While at my friend’s potluck, I recall a divide amongst all who were watching the video. Some loved it. Some hated it. I did find myself somewhere in the middle. The melody of the lyrics and the cadence of the rhyme took me back to “con coco o sin coco” in the Dominican Republic. It reminded me of a time and place when and where I was unsure of my political stance on drugs and what is socially on the fence, and what is totally overboard. I will not promote violence and I believe guns should be used only for protection, however I was reminded of the G Thang video when the guy had the pistol tucked into the back of his pants while working the barbecue pit. The guns looked real and I looked at them closely. I was drawn to them the same way I have always been when watching a movie or television show. This video was no different. This was a good rap video. If we must separate Hip Hip and Rap to achieve a sense of clarity and social aptness in our culture and responsibility to our community then I say this is an excellent rap video.
Whether Genasis will stand the test of the fickle music industry is oh but yet to be seen. I for one could not care less how things play out, but best of luck to him and his family. As for this record, very disturbing yet highly intriguing. It is extremely interesting how the same thing can be done in so many ways and still one out of the million appears and feels so different. This one was like tasting something different in a corner store bottled water and thinking “wow, what is this?” Only to look and see it is Poland Spring with a new logo and feeling unconsciously satisfied with what you perceive as something new.