What More Can I Say

My sista in Christ and cut up, Ebony Janice emailed me the link to this video. This brutha made my day with his opinions and observations about Black women which were the perfect balance of over the top silly, and honest. While poking fun at us, he also praised us, and pretty much kept it real, exemplifying the smart ass, quick wit, and loving nature that I enjoy so much about Black men.

Why Cutting Up is NECESSARY

I have so much things to say right now. And when I have "so much things to say", I intentionally try to keep it brief and manageable, or else, we'll both be here all day. By now, I'm sure you've heard all about the Troy Davis tragedy. Yesterday, justice was not served, in fact, the United States' criminal justice system continued it's campaign of victimizing and terrorizing citizens. This is literally like a terrible nightmare and this morning when I opened my eyes, I was sad that I hadn't successfully awakened from it. I sincerely feel trapped within the borders of this country. I feel abused by it. I just want to run away. I honestly feel like I can't live here anymore.

Where am I gonna go? I have absolutely no clue. Because the truth is that though The United States of America is brutal, ugly, murderous, wicked, and unjust, it is not the only country that gets down like that. The United States' behavior is just a reflection of the people that live in it and run it. And since people are people everywhere you go, I'm afraid I will not be able to outrun human nature.

I am often perplexed by our attitude toward and treatment of others. Why do we hate and kill each other? From the time I was a young child and able to have real, cohesive, logical thoughts, I've racked my brain trying to understand humankind's predisposition to malice, and I have not yet been able to figure it out. We mostly act like wild animals.

My feelings on the Death Penalty have vacillated over the years between support of the concept (ridding society of "evil", reserving resources for those among us who don't commit heinous crimes, "making things right", "bringing peace to the victim's family") and believing that there's no place in our judicial system for such an archaic practice. Throughout my adult life, as I've matured and learned more about the history of my people and the history of this country, I've steadily moved away from supporting even the concept of "an eye for an eye"; not because I'm some super peaceful, new age, yoga mat toting, liberal, artist, but because, in a country where institutionalized racism is, as I type this, digging it's roots deeper into all facets of our social structure, and corruption is common place, there is no possible way that a person of color or of a lower socio-economic class can truly, fairly be tried for any crime and sentenced properly. If a fair trial by a jury of your peers cannot be had, then the option of capital punishment should not exist. It is dangerous. Innocent people will inevitably die.

I do not know if Troy Davis committed the crime that he was executed for. I wasn't there. He says he didn't. There was no real evidence to say that he did and no reliable witnesses. In the years since the trial, most of the witnesses recanted their statements. More than one witness said that they were bullied by the police into incriminating Troy Davis in the murder of Officer McPhail. More than one juror on the trial basically said that knowing what they know now, they would have never found Troy Davis guilty. There was entirely too much doubt to execute this man. And yet, that's exactly what happened.

Now, I'm always slow to shout, "RACISM" whenever something dumb happens. However, sadly, in this case, I must. Because, how is it that after all of this non-evidence was presented and these shady witnesses were cross examined, and the jury, eager to return to their regularly scheduled lives found Troy Davis guilty, did the presiding judge actually get it into his legally professional, logical mind to sentence him to death? If no one in the courtroom has an ounce of sense, at the very least, wouldn't a judge? This leads me to believe that there were other factors that influenced the judge's decision. I suspect that other factor may have been Troy Davis' color.

Then I read about a case just three years ago in which a white man was sentenced to death in Georgia after shooting an individual three times, beating them with a crow bar and a can of paint. He admitted that he did it, probably did the Harlem Shake while confessing, and then managed to have his execution halted 3 hours before it was to be carried out. This man, David Crowe, was spared and had his sentence commuted to life in prison. Oh. Okay. See.

But Georgia couldn't do that for Troy Davis.

And I'm not really in support of setting fires and turning cars over, but...

It is definitely time to start some fires and turn some cars over. Because, I for one am tired of the United States killing my folks. And if the judicial system and it's police officers will mercilessly murder Troy, and Amadou, and Suzy Pena, and wrongfully imprison Assata, then they will do it to my children, me, and you. And they won't stop there.

The conversation since last night has been about exactly what to do. I don't have that answer. I'm still trying to figure it out. Petitions are nice and are helpful in effecting some kind of change, but I'm really not interested in being polite about this anymore. I am dedicated to figuring it out. I encourage you to do the same. Maybe I will see you and celebrate alongside you in a place where our paths converge.

Science Confirms What You Were Already Thinking: Black Women Showl Is Ugly

So, way back in the year 2008, I wrote this poem entitled Dear Black Men. I used it in the Hollywood Grand Slam Finals that year, got a 30 (which, in case you didn't know is a perfect score, bish) and a standing ovation, but went over time (due to audience reaction, and not enough editing before hand) and didn't make the gatdamn team [insert weeping here].

This poem later went on to become somewhat infamous. It now lives in my book, Five-Three and Rising. It has terrorized many a Black man in it's day. I rarely read it anymore, but when I do, it entertains me thoroughly.

Yesterday, Psychology Today published an article entitled "Why Are Black Women Rated Less Physically Attractive Than Other Women, But Black Men Are Rated Better Looking Than Other Men?". As you probably guessed, it talks about the reasons why Black women are generally ugly, especially in comparison to women of other races. In fact, we're so ugly, we're less attractive than men. That explains why I couldn't get a date for 5 years straight. Well, that and the fact that I'm a bald headed abomination. Thank you, Psychology Today for clearing all of this up for me. Now I can go eat my watermellon in peace.

Anyway, here's the poem. If you had not yet experienced it, you have that silly article to thank. Enjoy.



Dear Black Men,

It has recently come to my attention

that you think

I ain't shit

Imagine tha shock and dissapointment

I experienced

When I realized that all this time

I been walkin around here

with eyes

So ridiculously brown,

They've actually been scientifically identified

as "Attention Resistant"

Which would explain why

They all but refuse to be gazed into

Research led me to discover that I'm not tha only one

Plagued with this terrible condition

Which, apparently

originated in tha same place AIDS did

And there are women all over tha world

Suffering from tha same incurable affliction

Of brown-eyed-ness

As of now, no anctedote exists

Centers for Disease Control is working on it

But in tha meantime,

These melanin infested eyes of mine

Are so run of tha mill

That you cant help but feel

Uninspired

And trying to admire

or even acknowlege them

In tha slightest bit

Has left you tired on levels never before experienced

and unwilling to make any further attempts

and I must say I understand

I mean, why bother

with eyes that ain't even blue

or at least green?

Hell, hazel would be an improvement

Its a wonder I can even see with these

raggedy things

and one would think

That I would atleast

Hav tha decency

To wear colored contacts

When in your company

Whut tha fuck is wrong with me?

And why hav I been trippin so hard?

And for so long?

Really, I marvel at your ability

To put up with me

At all

Black men, I am so very sorry

My hair

Is so very nappy

I just never realized all tha pain it caused you

Until tha other day

When I caught a glimpse of these kinks

and stubborn twists

In tha mirror

And I must say,

It was unsightly

To say tha very least

I would even go as far as to say

That it bordered on frightening

How do I expect you

To run your fingers

Through this audacious barbwire maze?

This shit ain't luxurious!

It ain't even fair to you

And tho I was offeneded at first

I now realize that

Whut Don Imus had to say

Was merely based on an observation

That man's statement was rooted in truth

We ARE some nappy headed hoes

And just to think

That I was walkin around here, oblivious

When tha proof

Was all up and thru my scalp

And all around my edges

Is too shameful

For me to even contemplate

Clearly, tha nape of my neck is in dire need

Of some attention

From a hot pressing comb

I'm wrong.

Black men,

How hav you managed to maintain your sanity

Under these conditions?

Where do you get tha energy

To keep up with me

When I'm dancing

On beat?

How did you develop tha fortitude

That allows you to deal

With all this unnecessary

black girl attitude?

I mean, I'm aware

I reach new levels

of irreverence, everyday

Parading around

In this dark skin

With these big lips

and this massive mouth

That, despite my sincerest efforts

Won't allow itself to be toned down

Turned off or tuned out

I won't shrink, straighten or fade

And despite many colonialist's efforts

As rapists

It appears my blackness

Remains relatively undiluted

Which leads me to believe that

Tha only possible solution

To this rampant outbreak of blackness

Is for you to keep on persuing

White women

(and females of other exotic ethnic origins)

With tha fervor

And tireless dilligence

That only a black man

Can exhibit

And in tha meantime...

I realize

That despite my dedication to you

I will never be white

But, brutha...

For you

Tha least a sista can do

Is try



Sincerely,

Nikki Blak