Tag Archives: America

Donkey of the day (Michelle Rodriguez) (a response by Jack)

Michelle Rodriguez made a comment recently that was spurned by many.  She was asked, in jest, would she be the next Green Lantern.  The Green Lantern is a popular comic book hero, who is having a movie centered around him and his story line.  Her response to the question: “Ha ha ha That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard…Ya..I think it’s stupid like..because of this whole minorities in Hollywood thing..But it’s so stupid…Stop stealing all the White people’s superheroes..make up your own..you know..”

Michelle, from my perspective, is quite an accomplished actress.  She has made away for herself and has helped to break down cultural barriers with her choice of roles and characters that she chooses to plays.  She is generally known for her role as “female bad-ass”.  The tough chick who needs no one accept herself to save her own skin.  A delightful archetype indeed.  But the statement she made, in a sense set back all the ground she has covered with her role, it strips these roles of their mystique and power.  Even though the statement does have a negative side to it, it does make a strong point–and a very valid point at that.

Let us begin with the misunderstanding within the statement–the negative aspect.  Her primary misstep was stating “Sop stealing all the White people’s superheroes.”  Ironically enough, many of these superheroes that she speaks of were indeed directly created from or based off of heroes from antiquity.  Many of which were derived from Greek heroes, who were ultimately replica’s of character’s from African folklore and the like.  The heroes she so despises to be hijacked were stolen ideas in the first place. This is only one aspect of the statement that turns people off from the valid truths that the statement contains.

The next aspect that turns people off is her dismissive attitude towards the “whole minorities in Hollywood thing.” It is as though she dismisses the idea that there is a dominant white-male-patriarchal paradigm that has and does dominate the Hollywood scene if not the entire American scene.  She compounds this by essentially defending the paradigm, by saying if you want to be a part of the paradigm you cannot, go make your own paradigm—your own heroes. An industry that is dominated by a particular class of people does not want anyone infringing on there niche.  And this provides the crux of the Blog.

The superhero plays a large part in the psyche of the collective consciousness of the American individual, as well as any individual that is part of popular culture collective consciousness.  Much like Jesus or Santa Claus has done, superheroes such as Superman and Batman have plugged themselves into our psyche—whether we consciously acknowledge so or not.  We are constantly bombarded with the archetype of a White Male being our savior on so many levels.  Whether it be as a child—the bearer of all things good; whether it be as an adult—the protector or guardian of our souls; or whether it be on an imaginary level—the guardian of our well being and planet.  However you splice it, we are constantly reinforced and reaffirmed that this White Male archetype is our “God” in a sense.  And if you have to be convinced of something chances are it is the furthest from the truth.  See my “https://ingloriousresurrection.com/2014/11/26/rebuilding-the-black-woman-guardians-of-our-souls/” for further clarification.

Yes, a society in which all the laws were established by a particular group of people.  All industry was established by a particular group of people.  And the entire framework of the system that is our society was created by a particular group of people.  It would make sense for this group of people to constantly flaunt their power or rather convince the social consciousness that their perceived power is a reality. It is a voracious attempt to cling unto what little power they do have—which is the power to persuade perception.

Insert Michelle Rodriguez, unbeknownst to her by defending this white-male power structure she has actually subconsciously undermined it.  And this is the beauty in her statement.  Despite where these superhero narratives originally came from, she understands that the white-male lays claim to it now.  And instead of being so possessed with taking back the old—go forth and create more.  Although, there is nothing new under sun, we are in a new era.  Create a new hero, for a new era, to combat the heroes that are already in place.  Symbolically what she is saying is along the lines of Malcolm X.  Why put energy into being a part of someone’s else reality when you can go forth and create your own reality and create your own truths—essentially: save yourself.  Rather, reclaim your truth and re-express it.

And despite how inarticulate you expressed her sentiment, and the true intention of her statement, this is the truth that she was attempting to convey.  Although, that truth is smeared in mud and not presented in the best of lights.  There is a truth within her statement.  Free yourself from the bondage of another’s narrative, go forward and craft your own narrative.  Stop letting someone else dictate your history and your future.  Claim your history and write your future, and this can be done through the narrative of the story—which is best expressed in the modern era through superheroes and fictional characters.  Like it or not, people identify with fictional characters.  People idolize, latch on to, and derive personal meaning from the lives and actions of fictional characters witnessed through the medium of entertainment—whether it is reality or not it affects reality.

And so before we become so quick to demonize her statement.  Let us marinate on the truth the lives embedded with the muck of her statement.  Perhaps…. She on to something!

Lady Liberty’s favorite child (a poem by Jack)

Symbols of tragedy..

I mourn the victims… myself included…

Banks…Department stores… Fast food…

Reminders of my social degradation…

The people live on borrowed land they could never truly own… Can never plant your seed to take root and grow stout, to replenish generation after generation…

Mr. Roboto

Mother do you mind putting your love and energy into nourishment derived from our mother’s crust…

Too much to ask… Perhaps not even feasible…

Is there land for me and my brothers to protect… Or am I resigned to lay down my life for the special interest of others…

Lights… Camera… Action..

Am I as ugly as they say I am… Am I truly that inadequate… Image is everything… No?

Magazines…. Commercials.. Marketing… Psychological abuse… Quasi-predictive programming..

If you know me so well… Then you know what will eventually come.. When I’m fed up…

When I stray off course from this rat race…

Will I be painted as the bad guy… And punished for my curiosity…

Or will the rat eventually kill the cat… All us rats… Hungered.. Raging… Embolden with one goal… Vanquishing any and all cats…

But perhaps the rat race is more alluring than the chaos.. Certainly much less casualties…

Say cheese!

Paint a picture…. An image of freedom… Subtract the symbols… What do you have… Do you have a man.. Do you have a collection of choices… Do you see yourself? Can a system bear freedom, or is adhering to a system freedom in itself… Freedom of responsibility and worry…

The smiling clown cries…

Long live liberty….

Black History Month? Why not… Celebration Bitches!..! (a blog by Jack)

Black history month… Myth put to the test… 

As the month of February draws to a close, the spirit of the month is examined.  February is indeed called “Black History” month. The seemingly vague description implies so much.  It provides some answers but creates more answers than it has the ability to answer.

For starters, what is Black History? Who are we defining as Black? How far back are we honoring those people’s history? If every aboriginal man on every piece of of Native land across this earth was of darker flesh, than who’s history are we really celebration?

I have a brief anecdote that may shed some light to some of these questions.

A good friend of mine, who I will call Richard Feltington, for the sake of the story, works for a government agency.  At the beginning of February he noticed that he, as well as other people of brown hue, was added to an email list inviting him to various “Black History” celebrations. And rightfully so, he felt uncomfortable. For whatever reason he didn’t feel the need to be singled out on a list and had no idea what they were celebrating. He decided to pass on the majority of the events, until it was pointed out by a coworker that he had not attended a single event. So he decided to attend the next function which happened to be a pot luck. Apparently everyone in the office was looking forward to attending the celebration because he over heard everyone clambering about what they were going to bring to the pot luck. He overheard a middle aged white lady saying ” I’m gonna google a good southern fried chicken recipe to bring to the pot luck”, apparently this is appropriate food for the function– understandable. Any whoo, the day of the function Mr. Feltington walks in and immediately sees an Asian man with his eyes closed, bopping his head back and forth, vibing to a “Negro Spiritual”. Although he wa slightly put off, Mr. Feltington proceeded to the food and took notice of all the deep fried foods, greens, cornbread  etc. Mr. Feltington did not just eat one plate but went back up for seconds and thirds.

This story gives insight as to the typical American’s mindset towards “Black History” month and why it goes unrecognized by so many. As history tells us, America was built on the slayings and enslavement of the native copper-man indigenous to to this land. As so many would choose to not to acknowledge this fact remains as a gross family secret no one speaks about, and when spoken about is quickly dismissed as something to “get over” not unlike 911 or “The Holocaust”. Each of which lasted significantly shorter time periods and cost significantly less lives in totality. Yet, I find it ironic that when “Black History” rolls around the only history that is celebrated is that of an enslaved people.

As though America is not so much providing a reminder of the atrocities it has done but celebrating its conquest of the people native to this land and the people brought over from a distant land. Perhaps the month should be entitled to a more accurate description “Enslavement Appreciation” month. Although it lacks PC, it more than makes up for it in accuracy.

Despite the lack of credit, black history reaches far back. Even if you restrict black history to the natives of this land it reaches far back. It definitely does not begin with American slavery. From a descendant of the enslaved I see that as nothing to celebrate, in any fashion or sense. As a conquered people who has assimilated to his conquerers culture, I still see it as nothing to celebrate. 

And as a man living among the conquerers, I do see why the month goes seemingly unrecognized. Who in there right mind wants a constant reminder of their ills. Consciously, like I, they have no idea what they are celebrating and on a subconsciously level they have even less desire to celebrate the month– their guilt would not allow it.

I suppose it’s up to the individual to do what they want with the month. My life is a constant reflection upon the creators of the earth and original man. For one month to imply and sum up my history is nothing less than a slap in the mouth. But as a conquered people, beggers can not be choosers. We should be grateful for the titles we are given, and the acknowledgment that we are bestowed. Until next February rolls around….

Happy Black History Month!

Alpha Male vs Beta (Why the Beta man wears the crown..)

Alpha Male Vs. Beta Male:

“How can those women fight over such a loser?”

“They are fighting each other and looking foolish when really they should be fighting him?”

“What’s he got that I don’t got?”

You often hear these phrases or phrases such as these uttered from the lips of so many. You may have uttered them yourself, and sat in awe as to why some women would be so foolish as to give their “all” to some “unworthy” individual. Even to go as far as fighting a complete stranger for their prized possession.

The following discussion may shed some light on the phenomenon—depending on your perspective.  Allow me to set a precipice for our discussion.

We live in a multi dimensional reality. Allow me to define what I mean by such. We live in a superficial or sentient reality that constantly has to reinforce its value structure upon us—the individual, and exert itself upon society as a whole. We also live in an actual reality that is hidden behind the superficial reality but prominently exerts itself upon us—because it is who we are. The two coincide and often clash for one is constantly trying to circumvent the other and prove that which is false.

I entitle the superficial reality the matrix. It is a holographic universe—an illusionary universe built on commerce—the commodity of goods bought and sold.  This reality’s infrastructure is built on the free flow of the commodity market. In this reality, the worth of things is based on a dollar amount. Every item and every transaction has a dollar amount. Even to the point that time equates to money. People become only worth as much as the amount of revenue that they can generate for the system—the matrix. Labor is bought and sold, ideas are bought and sold, services are bought and sold, items are bought and sold, dreams are bought and sold, love is bought and sold, women/men are bought and sold, children are bought and sold. In this reality everyone and everything has a price. This is the reality that we are taught from birth–the reality that is so vigorously instilled in our heads throughout out our matriculation through the institutions of education. It is constantly reinforced through media, entertainment, and pretty much any outlet that you can name.

And then we have the actual reality that is in completely juxtaposed– one that remains perfectly hidden in plain sight. And this is the fact that we are spiritual beings having a human existence—rather some of us are spiritual beings having a human existence. This existence does not place “values” on the individual. This reality knows very little bounds if any and is forever changing and evolving, but its basis stays the same. It is a dual reality– one of physical existence coinciding with that of a spiritual existence. This creates a dualism in itself. This is because these two realities are merged through mediation, by the instrument of the brain, through the function of the mind. Thus you will have individuals with great physical prowess that are deemed alpha and those with great spiritual prowess that are also deemed alpha. One translates very well in the holographic universe the other isn’t always as evident.

These precepts form the basis of our discussion. How is one defined as alpha and how is one defined as beta?

In our current state of existence the idea of an alpha male is very muddied.  The term doesn’t hold wait because the individuals that comprise our society have so many different value structures. You have some who hold money as omnipotent and will deem those with money as alpha males to be revered.  These same people will look down on a man without possessions as being “worthless”.  Some will hold a great athlete in high regard and deem them as being alpha, because of their great physical prowess.  Yet others, will uphold some great musician as being alpha, because they have such a great talent intertwined with a captivating aura—ie more intuned with their spiritual side.

So who indeed is correct?

Is it subjective? –Arguably.

I offer this commentary.  Anything that the holographic universe holds up on a pedestal is more than likely a falsehood.  Individuals have input a system in the place that has allowed them to accrue vast “wealth” and “power” through this current economic structure.  These individuals are seemingly “God’s” of the system because they have the ability to manipulate and dictate so much.  This is counterintuitive to the natural principle of survival of the fittest.  It places a corrupt variable within the equation—which doesn’t allow the fittest of body and spirit the flourish–but the fittest of manipulation to flourish.  And I would argue that these individuals and blood lines are the among the very weakest among us which is why they require this system to survive and maintain their power.

I digress, many among us in society have gift that aren’t necessarily able to be commoditized.  In such, these gifts are never fully developed, never recognized, and often seen in a negative light.  For example, take your typical child diagnosed with “ADD or ADHD”.  This is a phenomenon not understood by society but is treated as something negative that needs to be “solved” with medicine.  When in actuality it could something in the exact opposite light.  It could be a child with such a hyper developed mind that there is no way they can sit still and incur such a remedial –retarded manner of education that the school system forces upon our children.  Their mind is racing to infinity and back and the teachers teaching are stuck on “123” & “ABC”.   This is just one example of many.  We as a society are taught to kill anything not able to be made into a commodity.  In essence we kill everything spiritual unless it is spiritual convenient—ie religion which happens to generate billions upon billions.

So, I believe women tend to be more in tuned with the intuitive: their “feelings”.  Thus they will tend to pick up on these gifts with an individual unknowingly and unwittingly and take a liking to said individual-which brings us full circle.  Perhaps they are not fighting over a “worthless” individual.  Perhaps they are fighting over someone who is really special–someone who is quite the opposite.—someone who has been psychologically traumatized by society.–someone who doesn’t understand their gifts.  Someone who has been convinced their gifts are worthless and have in turn internalized this sentiment and outwardly manifested this pervading motif.–someone who hasn’t found motivation to succeed in the holographic reality and appears to be a “waste”.

This argument provides insight as to why the Beta male wears the crown.  There are many launch points from here that can be expounded upon.  But I will leave it here and leave those thoughts for another blog.


Thank you for reading and your responses are welcomed.

Does the sport make the star or does the star make the sport? Black Stars Burn Brightest…

It is without doubt that Professional Sports plays a major role in the lifeblood of America.  It does everything from pushing the economy forward,to providing heroes for the youth to aspire towards, to galvanizing entire regions across cultural lines.

Yes, America loves its Sports.  Some may even go as far as to say that the ritual of Sunday football has replaced the ritual of attending Church. The energy once used to worship “God” has been averted to the anticipation, elation and praising of football teams and their stars.

Indeed America loves its sports and the stars that they produce.

2015/01/img_4161.pngAmerica loves its athletes.  We are no different than any other civilization, just like the Romans of yesteryear, we hold our Gladiators in High Esteem.  In fact we hold our stars in high esteem no matter what arena they participate in.  As long as they are an entertainer, there will be somebody that can relate to them and there to give praise.

The argument arises, does the sport make the star or does the star make the sport.  Conventional thinking would lead one to believe that no one person is bigger than the sport.  Like David Ruffin and the Temptations no one part can thrive without the sum.  But I would beg to differ.  Perhaps no one single person can persuade the game one way or another, but a subset can have a tremendous impact on the popularity of said sport.  And I have food for thought, that may offer strong persuasion.

Let’s look at the most popular sports in America, currently Football reigns supreme; followed by basketball and at a distant third baseball.  There was a time when Baseball claimed the thrown, and then it struggled to keep it but eventually capitulated and gave way to the current king–Football.

But Why?

Is it a direct result of a shift in the demographics of America.  Is it due to the fast pace society that we live in and the American continuum wants a fast pace sport to parallel its pacing.  Or is it something subconsciously deeper than that.

Follow me, America has an affinity for its stars and in particular its Black stars.

2015/01/img_4162.pngLet’s look at a low hanging fruit—Golf.  I don’t have the numbers but I can definitively correlate the spike and decline of golf with the oscillation of Tiger Wood’s Greatness.  He single handedly brought the sport from the rungs and gutters of popularity to the forefront of American Consciousness.  As his “Scandle” ensued and his decline in play sprang forth as did the popularity of Golf.  Just look at the ratings.

America loves its Black Stars.

2015/01/img_4163-0.pngLet’s take a look at the sport of female tennis.  Can we say it received a jolt of enthusiasm with the influx of a certain two sisters?  I’m not even sure how much relevance the female tennis world captured without that shining Eastern Star Serena and her sister Star Venus.

America loves its Black Stars.

2015/01/img_4164.pngBasketball  was a sport on the fringes of being popular.  A sport with an identity crisis, it didn’t know if it wanted to be great or not.  Back in the 80’s the NBA was on the verge of something special with star power of Bird and Magic.  These stars shined indeed but they weren’t enough to bring the NBA to the Billion dollar business that it is today, sitting comfortable in the royal court of the King–Football.  No—it was arguable the brightest black star of all time—the marketing creation of one Michael Jordan.  This bright star single handedly carried the NBA on his back–the Tiger Woods before Tiger Woods.  Before him, 100 million dollar contracts were unheard of.  He parted the Red Sea and allowed for the NBA to ascend to the peak of its popularity.

America loves its Black Stars.

2015/01/img_4165.pngFootball—the king in this sports jungle.  Now football is a bit of an anomaly I would admit.  It is a sport flooded by Black stars but you can honestly say there is no polarizing figure.  In fact, it is a sport that hails its white stars.  Yet footballs popularity didn’t increase until it received an infusion of Black athletes if not stars.  The 80’s is when football first spotted it’s opening for the crown, but it wasn’t until Baseball, former King, exposed its chink in its armor.  A sport that thought it was too Big for its Black Stars, which eventually led to its downfall.  Yet as we see today, football sits atop its thrown gazing over its kingdom as it embraces its litany of Black Stars.  And baseball looks at what was, and like a scorned lover: looks back on what could have been.

America loves its Black Stars.

This brings us to Baseball, “America’s Past Time”.

2015/01/img_4166.pngWhat happened to Baseball?

Suicide happened. –Self-inflicted misery by way of Pride. I will tell you what happened, Baseball and the powers to be got fed up.  It got fed up with its Black stars.  It became fed-up with the arrogance of seeing these young Black Stars shining so brilliantly.  It grew tired of these young flashy, wealthy, insolent stars.  It felt, man, talent is multi-cultural; I can replace these egregious, haughty black stars with colored stars from another land.  Yah, that’s it…I’ll go down and get these Latin American stars that look the same and play the same and we’ll teach them.  But its plan backfired.


Because  America loves its Black Stars.

Key word being “its”.  Not someone else’s Black stars, America loves its Black Stars.  I would argue that the decline in Baseball popularity is a direct result of its systematically ushering out of its Black Stars.  The same arrogance and haughty nature it despised is the same arrogance and haughty nature America seeks to embrace.  We love our Dennis Rodman’s.  We love our Dion Sander’s.  We love our Mike Tyson’s.  We love to hate our Lebron James’s.  We love our Charles Barkley’s.  No matter what form or fashion they come in—we Love our Black Stars.

There is a deeper issue here as to why this axiom is true, but that is for another blog at another time.

Baseball should take it as a lesson learned.  Although, without the sport there would be no superstar one could clearly see that without the superstar the sport doesn’t quite shine.

Hip Hop…The Gift and Curse (an analysis: does art imitate life or vice versa)

Does art imitate life or does life imitate art?


We will examine the medium of rap or hip-hop music and its function in American culture. We will attempt to examine this expression of art from an honest– objective perspective.

There exist many influential mediums that utilize audio and visual stimulation– music and television—hip-hop is just a drop in a bucket of a larger lexicon. With each of these mediums the question of what influences what becomes blurred and almost indistinguishable. I see it as such: the 80/20 rule. The art impacts the lives that perceive it, and the creators of the art are impacted by aspects of life that they wish to convey. Art tends to imitate a portion of life that is provocative or noteworthy and it highlights and often embellishes this phenomenon.



Life, on the other hand, is very much influenced by what it perceives. So life, or a portion of life, will reside in the comfort of the status quo– while the rebellious nature, that desires change, will often imitate art. And seek this art out as a means of expressing this innate desire for change. It then becomes a self-referential pattern if you will. Art– bringing to the forefront of society something hidden and unbeknownst to the majority. In turn the highly suggestible of society will imitate this art. From this process “pop” icons and influential figures are birthed creating their own phenomenon. Seemingly out of no where, stars are born and the strength of their gravitational pull draws people in. And for a time these figures tend to exercise an influence of power until their star power fizzles out and they are replaced by the next cultural icon.




There is a thin line between art and propaganda…

Let us examine the art of hip-hop– art in form but a device in function. It serves many purposes in the modern era. A means of marketing… A means of venting… A medium to exchange knowledge… A means of individual expression…

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/fdb/77017821/files/2015/01/img_3946.pngIn its inception hip-hop was a pure Art form. It served as a voice of a disenfranchised portion of society—as a means to both express and provide a healthy fun outlet for individuals. Hip-hop was a four-point art form that included break dancing, DJing, graffiti display, and MCing (actual oral poetry on top of a beat– rapping). In its current state, hip-hop has become mutated into a disfigured remnant of itself. The art form has been raped, ravaged, exploited, commercialized, and pimped out to the highest bidder–and not by accident but through systematic design.

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/fdb/77017821/files/2015/01/img_3949.jpgThe phenomenon of hip-hop has evolved. It is a powerful force that has the ears and energy of the youth. There was a time when the art form spoke out about social injustices among the disenfranchised—it gave knowledge to the youth about who they were and could be in a positive light.

It provided quality dance music that allowed the body to freely expressive itself and tune in with energies of the natural environment. Hip-hop enlightened the youth by dropping conscious jewels. It had its flaws but it was an overall positive powerful force in American society.

But special interest became intertwined with the art. Money became their means of infiltration and manipulation. Fame became a poison, and artist placed fame above the art. Statistics and money became the major motivation of producing the art while talent and artistry began to gradually lose significance. Artist began to utilize gimmicks in aims of selling records and lost the purpose of the art form. Money became the only purpose of making the music. The art began to glorify opulence– unrealistic life styles, misogyny, violence, and drug culture. The art began to sell hope.


/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/fdb/77017821/files/2015/01/img_3952.pngHope for an illusion.



Thus we have liquor companies investing heavenly into hip-hop culture—soliciting their products through song lyrics and music videos. You have the industrial prison complex having mutual interest with record labels encouraging violence and illicit drug use. You have the drug underworld “powers to be” having a vested interest in the art helping market new drugs and so forth to susceptible ears.

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/fdb/77017821/files/2015/01/img_3956.jpg We have the fashion-industry sponsoring artist to market their name-brands that the susceptible hold with such prestige and a manifestation of self-esteem.

And so on and so on and so on…

So hip-hop current state is in a tug-of-war.

With the advent of the Internet, music is not so much a monopoly. Generally those controlling the means of distribution and marketing the music hold all of the power. Now there are different channels for a pure artist to reach their target market. Hip-hop has a means of organically resurrecting itself. And the recent success of hip-hop artist J. Cole is encouragement enough to show that hip-hop is beginning to rebirth itself.

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/fdb/77017821/files/2015/01/img_3957.png(With little to no marketing, he outsold major pop-hop artist who had major labels backing them.)

People are addicted to the relate-ability and appeal of the music to their lower-selfs. Not elevating but staying within the bestial realm of the carnal senses—and this serves a purpose. So the music is marketed towards this sect. The 808s and rhythmic drums awaken and lead the subconscious, awakening the body and having it involuntarily move in conjunction with these rhythms. The mind absorbs the lyrics and registers them. The lyrics repeat over and over and begin to evoke thought. And before you know it the music becomes a part of you. You’ve imitated what you are to become. As the people begin to desire more from their music, the art form will become what it once was. The people will awaken from their comatose state, for hip-hop is the spirit of the people. As the spirit awakens the non-sense we gradually die.

Such is the nature of art it both enlightens and it condemns…


Memoirs of a Christian on the edge… (an unfortunate Messiah)

I’m in the midst of one of my faith lapses. You know, one of those periods when I’m feeling deprived of divine presence. I feel drunk with the ambiguity of ethereal incentive. And what do you know. Out of all the days I volunteered at Jonesboro Middle School–he had to choose this day.

He had to choose this day to purge his little soul to me!

Rather, his ideal of identity to me. As though, of all people, I had the answer. What force drove him to gravitate towards me on this most auspicious of days.

“Why doesn’t God love me…Why doesn’t he love me like he does all the other families?”

And I had a good idea as to where he was coming from. I had a general understanding of the boys unfortunate background and troubled lot in life. I knew he simply wanted reassurance–encouragement that a father figure would generally invoke, but as deprived as he was of such he decided to seek this role from me.

But, he simple chose the wrong day. The most pivotal of times in a boys life, I suppose it was imminent though. Truth has an awkward way of presenting itself. I knew the appropriate thing to say, but this came out,

“Well…Maybe you should find a new God…Yours doesn’t seem to work any more.”

And I didn’t mean it like it came out, but the way he looked at me conveyed everything. He didn’t look away; he didn’t panic; a tear graced from his eye, yet he remained stoic. But unjustly on some level he understood what I meant. Of course God doesn’t love you or me. God loves his own and that’s it. Right? Only his own. He makes his own happy.

Not the likes of you and me.

30 for 30 Rand University (A response)

A reflection upon a revealing documentary… Although, I felt the documentary was insightful, It appears to be a story within a story. A story unfulfilled because to be quite frank the story is uncomplete– a skeleton without muscle or organs. The documentary is centered around polarizing professional athlete Randy Moss (one of my favorites). Like so many other melaninated athletes the documentary depicts his plight from tremendous odds to athletic immortality. The documentary explores his troubles with the law as a youth. His psychological response to racism (a people who want you only for your athletic prowess and nothing more). Also, his perpetual fight with the myopia that the small town life fostered. And his overcoming perseverance that led to his seemingly apparent success…This documentary addresses it all.

A private figure… Randy actually opened up and shed a light upon a portion of who he is. This allowed insight into the psyche of so many young melaninated males in similar dichotomies.

I describe this as a story half told because of an aspect of the documentary that struct a nerve with me. The documentary is entitled Rand University. This is attributed to the fact that there are so many exceptional athletes produced in that region but never make it “out”. In fact most of em “end up drinking 40 ounces outside of 7-11” This is what the locals deem Rand University. All the prodigious athletes graduate high ftschool and attend an existence of nothingness and forsaken hope.

This is an exponential tragedy because Rand University have campuses in every state in every city in every town across the United States of America. So many young men are living under a delusion.. A very strong delusion… The implanted truth that the only road to success in America is through being praised by America. The avenues to being praised or beloved or embraced by America is through physical prowess(athletics) or showmanship (musician or entertainer). This is a grave tragedy. An unspoken axiom that goes unchecked and unchallenged. And I myself am not exempt from this delusion.. Growing up, even I thought that that was the only means of “success”. I do not know where this mentality came from exactly. I do not know where it took root. It wasn’t as though I was not exposed to professionals of melanin. It just always seemed as though nothing else was attainable. It seemed “possible” and I knew I had the “ability” but it never felt real or achievable…

What general consensus has swept young melaninated people’s to put all their hope in their ability to be embraced by the masses. Without that “love” they feel worthless. Without that hope they are cursed to live a destitute life of nothingness.. As I said I am of no exception.. I was always told to go to college… But I never felt or saw an end game. This has stunted my “progress” in life. I saw college as an ends… Not a means to an end and this has left me some what stuck… Trying to figure it all out. I’m at least lucky enough to have the wherewithal to try to figure it out.. As this documentary highlights, there are so many of my brothers who simply lose hope after the initial dream is shattered.. After one run in with the law… After one ill placed tragedy… They are left with nothing…. No direction… No ambition.. And without hope!

There is one part in the documentary that embodies this spirit. It’s when one of Randy Moss’ childhood friends who didn’t “make it out” is recounting his mishap.. Retelling how he lost his opportunity.. He simply broke down and cried. As though his world no longer had meaning because of a dream unfulfilled. Yet, in reality he is a young man… Under the age of 40… He has all the world to gain… No matter the circumstance it all can turn around… It starts with one idea and a whole lot of drive and determination.

But, so many of our brethren don’t have that idea… That thought never enters their mind. The seed just lands on harsh soil and never takes root.


How do you break this psychosis if it alone defines your reality? And you know nothing beyond your reality…

Is it the responsibility of a society to look after its individuals? Is it the responsibility of the individual to save himself by any means necessary? Is this mentality of individualism productive to the collective? How does an individual with nothing to lose react when they feel it’s them against the world? Who seeks to gain from the decisions that this individual will potentially make. Prison industrial complex? Illicit drug industry? Etc?

So we are left with an untold story. The story of one shining star. One individual who defied the odds. A survival of the fittest narrative played out to perfection. Yet, the nature of humanity isn’t so much a survival of the fittest, but a survival of the collective. The true issue is why so many individuals are innately not part of the collective unless they “earn” their way in. Why are some born on the outside looking in? Why is that generally accepted?

Why must one earn their way into a society that they have no way of escaping?


Lost Boys… (Americaville…) (A poem by Jack)

Our only sin…

Thinking we can be anything we wanted to be…
Lofty dreams… Pompous ideals… Shot down by the arrows of depression and expectation unfulfilled..

See, this journey… We began without map.. Compass… Or sense of direction…

They call us lost boys… Animals.. Criminals… Nihilist… Without a purpose we roam… Without pride we scourge…

In cages we’re thrown… In the streets we’re gunned down… By others… By each other… By whoever…

It’s ok… Because they were lost…

Blame it on me… Blame it on the system.. Blame it on whoever… Cause it doesn’t matter… Least not to you…

So where do our lost boys go… Where is their land of milk and honey… Where do they grow to become men…

Ensnared in a vicious cycle of kidulthood… Left to roam for eternity…
40 days and 40 nights of searching and searching…
Days of ridicule… Nights of spite… Days of reprieve… Nights of intoxication…
Drowning out the voices… Drowning out the echoes..
What’s a boy to do when becoming a man is no option…
No beard… No hunting… No gathering… No family… No worth…

Devalued… Left to rot… Guilded… And the cycle continues… Another boy is born and picks up where the other left off…

They stripped us…

They raped us…

The molested us…

They robbed us of our inheritance…

Left us abandoned… Wallowing in our own filth… And told us to find our way home…

A boy can’t traverse a path designed for a man… A boy can’t go home if he has the slightest idea who he is…

All what’s left to do… But look up at the stars.. And ask.. Am I meant to be here?

Curse the stars! They snatched us from our cradle… They forced us to be their cup bearers… Passed around among em.. In a state of catharsis… Zombified… So embellished with the torture that we grow numb to it’s impact…

We simply act and do without thinking… And when they are done… We’re left to rot and birth another…

Another to be just like us… In form… In function…

Another born with original sin…another Christ forced to self-sacrifice…crucified… With no hope of resurrection…

Rebuilding the Black Woman… Guardians of our Souls..

Kara Walker’s piece ” A Subtlety” is the launch point of this blog. An image that has provided the impetus for an exploration of our subconscious mind’s primary motif– an artistic requiem of glory lost.

Front depiction of the sculpture...
Front depiction of the sculpture…
A rear view of the sculpture...
A rear view of the sculpture…

This blog will begin to scratch the surface regarding the significance of the image of the Black Woman. It is a reflection upon the restoration of the Black-woman archetype and her/its importance to humanity.

One look upon Kara Walker’s work opens up the vastness of a million portals–portals leading to truths of both past and present. In this larger-than-life sculpture, Kara depicts a modern rendition of a Sphinx like figure. We have the likeness of a woman crafted out of all white sugar. The woman has a “mammy” resemblance to her that is accentuated by the adornment of her crown with a scarf–something you may be used to seeing atop the head of Harriet Tubman. Her bust is large and exposed as if she were offering her bosom for suckling to any onlooker. In place of an animal body the figure maintains its womanly-curvaceous physique. All capped off by a vagina exposed from the rear view of the sculpture. Depending on the frame of reference of the viewer, we have a hyper-sexualized image of a woman. All the while the woman has a smirk on her face. Almost like she is taunting the observer to explore the depths that she has to offer. As if to say you can scratch the surface but you have the slightest idea how deep it can get.



We can juxtapose this image to that of the actual Sphinx. The image of a regal guardian spirit that stands poised in protecting her city– from a spiritual stand point and an authoritative stand point– a guardian queen if you will.

The two images side by side depict how far the Black Woman has been exiled from her thrown. And also the moral degradation that has gone hand in hand with this vanquishing of her archetype…


The archetype of the Black Woman has a universally visceral response to all that experience it. Her presence is never subtle. It is encompassing and this is evident on both a conscious and subconscious level. The vibrations that her spirit gives off is undeniable and often commands respect in one fashion or another.

She has fallen from the Creator-of-Man era…

To the Queen– the Ruler-of-Man era..

To the Mammy the Caretaker-of-Man era….

Too the hyper-sexualized– the Whore-of-Man era…

And along with her fall from grace has come the destruction of societal morality and spirituality. Yet her fall has not been of a natural order. It has been carried out in a systematic manner by the would be ruler of the present era. Her ruling archetype type has been assaulted and bombarded by her rival and polar opposite that of the White Male. A patriarchal dominated society who’s morality encompasses all but not limited to: greed, avarice, licentiousness, wanton, gluttony, selfishness, and anything else that appeals to one’s flesh induced desires.
This patriarchal archetype whether it be consciously or subconsciously is perpetually attempting to strip the Black female archetype of all power and authority. Yet as the “Subtlety” has proven… You can change her image but she will never leave her post…

As per popular culture the image of the Black woman is both imitated and mocked. There is a relentless assault upon the motif of the Black Woman. She is often both ridiculed and mimicked–creating a paradox of a unique kind. On the one level she is mocked but on a deeper level she can’t help but to be imitated as she is the purveyor of all civilization.

There is attempt to bring about a new way among the people of this planet. The key to providing the perfect segue into this way of being is the removal of our humanity. And the cornerstone of our humanity is the Black woman. There is an attempt to usher in a new era. One in which man is devoid of spirituality… Devoid of uniqueness.. Devoid of his bond with the universe… Supplanting himself as above or without integration into nature.. Almost as though we were transfiguring ourselves into machines…

Our humanity is what is at stake. There is a war going on that no man is safe from. And if we don’t protect our guardians on the most basic of levels. How do we expect them to protect us on the most critical of level–that which can not be seen and is ever changing? How long can they stand guard if they lack sense of Self? And we lack sense of perspective?