Black: A Dissertation (Part I)

Welcome to the exciting world of the Black. A decrepit and tumultuous riveting experience living and surviving in racist infested waters. A place where one has to look over their shoulder to make sure no one is following them, or that the elderly lady at the grocery store isn’t clutching her purse. I am wondering when the world is going to see what a treasure we are. The word: Black has always been seen as bleak and morbid, but many cultures see it as zealous and striving. The problem then arises because the world has turned the image of Black people upside down. We have been set as the substratum or the inferior being to everyone else. No matter what we have or attempt to attain, we are seen as second-rate. Some kind of decaying compost that rots in a garbage can. It all started way back during the slave trade when we were beaten because of the tint of our skin. No other race had ever seen such splendid complexions: brown, caramel, chocolate; it just didn’t exist in the paltry and confined minds that people had. Having endured 500 years of slavery, you would think that we’d deserve some kind of acknowledgment for having endured such grimy conditions and being whipped, but the world has an even more fastidious view of us as a people. This is due primarily to the tainting of the media and the rubbish written in history books. Black people, primarily, Black men are seen as gangstas and bums, niggerish and illiterate weed smokers who walk the streets of major metropolitan cities. But that is only a minimal amount. Most Black men and Black people covet to get up out of their neighborhoods and do something with their lives, despite the wonderful images that are put on display daily. The conundrum here is how to rectify the view that America has about African Americans. We cannot speak unless we are told to. We are treated like dogs waiting for a T-bone. We have definitely come a long way from the “yesssurs” and the days of mopping and fixing cornbread and ham hocks, but we have not come far. Black people have not progressed too much. My generation has become contented and unaware. The late 80s babies, now full-fledged adults are running around puffing Black & Milds, waiting for that next drink and shakin their booties in the club instead of trying to reestablish the image that the world views us in. My generation is constantly waiting for reparations and handouts, instead of being willing & able to work for it. We expect to be handed something on a silver platter. The generation is so horrible now that young kids are searching for that next hit or being initiated in gangs because their mothers are strung out or working two or three jobs just to put food on the table. Blackness has become a culture. We pride ourselves on talking bad English and wearing clothing that hangs below our waists. We are striving to emulate hip hop artists who now brainwash the youth into thinking this is the life. This is what my culture has turned into. The world is training us Black folk to stay mediocre and feed off of the festering world we live in, but none of us are doing anything about it. Each and everyone of us who sits around not questioning and challenging what is going on around us, is becoming yet another statistic and clinging to a putrefied environment…..