82 Dear Parents
I write to you as a father who buried oe of my two sons. Darrel/Abdul Jackmon/El Muhajir transitioned at 39 years old from manic depression and took his life by walking into a train.He graduated from University of California, Berkeley in Arabic and Near Eastern Literature. He studied at the American University, Cairo, Egypt, and won a Fulbright fellowship to the University of Damascus, Syria. He was a graduate student in Near Eastern Studies at Harvard University until his disability overwhelmed him. People said he was my twin: he looked like me, talked like me, laughed like me, walked like me. Indeed, he was my friend, my brother, even though they say a parent should not be so close to their child. He often told me he was going to preach my funeral and tell every secret thing he knew about me. But as happens so often these days, I spoke at his funeral.
So I say to all parents who have lost and buried children in America, for whatever reason,I understand your pain like no other pain I ever experienced in my 73 years on this planet. Some parents lost children from police, gang or other forms of violence. It doesn't matter how it happened. Clinical psychologist/sociologist Dr. Nathan Hare says, "Suicide and homicide are two sides of the same coin!" And he adds, "Much of this violence is from a situational disorder caused by oppression." Dr. Frantz Fanon told us the only way the oppressed can regain his mental health is through the process of revolution, of becoming a social activist to heal himself/herself and our oppressed society.
Of course, as a parent, the first thing I had to do was heal from my trauma and unresolved grief. Loving my partner was out of the question. I sunk so deep into the black hole that it took five years of solitude in the mountains for me to regain my mental equilibrium. Aside from nature itself, it was writing five books in those five years that brought healing and closure to my life. Unlike many parents, I was fortunate to have a rich patron who afforded me time in the mountains to experience neural placidity or a reformation and transformation of my brain cells, and after five years I was ready to face life again.
It was then that I returned to the city, Oakland, and resumed teaching at my Academy of da Corner, 14th and Broadway, downtown Oakland. Even though fellow author and my elder, Ishmael Reed, described me as, "Plato teaching on the streets of Oakland," it was not a philosophical adventure, rather I was now forced to help heal those who came by my stand with the pain, trauma and unresolved grief that I'd just healed from. I had to simply listen to them, sometimes eyeball to eyeball because they got right up in my face to make sure I was listening to them and hearing their pain, trauma and grief that they could not share with anyone else, for no one else had time being so overwhelmed by the trauma of their own lives. I listened since I knew God had healed me and prepared me to heal others. For sure, I knew my Academy of the Corner wasn't about discussing philosophical issues or selling my books. Often, people, young men and women, fathers and mothers, lined up at my table for advice and understanding. One mother came with her daughter because the mother wanted her daughter to understand that she was too beautiful and intelligent to be a mother who spent the night with men but came home without money for her baby's Pampers! People came who couldn't understand why the police murder of their loved one was not in the paper, why there was no rally or march for them; there wasn't even a police investigation whether it was murder under the color of law or a gang related murder or murder due to sexual improprieties by their partner who was then set up to be whacked!
Sometimes young men come by who want to kill their blood brother so I did my best to talk them out of it. On more than one occasion, brothers came by who wanted to kill me! Often they were jealous and envious of my books, especially when we conversed and I responded with arrogance as I am known to do when pressed. I had to learn to be humble and not escalate the conversation. One brother got upset when he walked by several times and I forgot he'd told me he didn't want my books because he didn't read. He'd told me the first time he passed that his woman read, not him.
In short, America is under great stress at this time. We are in a low intensity war, mainly with ourselves, not any external enemy or domestic foe. Michael Jackson told us about the Man in the Mirror. We have turned one of the most richest and beautiful countries in the world into a hell hole of violence, mayhem and drug addiction. Drugs are necessary not only for the
physical pain but mental pain as well. It is no mystery why Americans are addicted to opioids and other pain killers. The root addiction of America’s pain is addiction to white supremacy (Type I and II, Dr. Nathan Hare). Whites suffer Type I addiction, we suffer type II. The oppressor and oppressed suffer different maladies.
Imagine America is a nation of 300 million people who possess 300 million guns, although everyone doesn't possess a gun. Perhaps, if there was a level playing field, much of the
mass murder would subside. America has always tried to keep guns from her African slaves. Alas, after the Civil War she hurried to disarm the 200,000 North American Africans who
could have achieved total liberation if not tricked into disarming.
With the recent mass murder of school children, perhaps our children, the victims, shall
demand a solution that may require them to secure themselves. For sure, parents cannot continue this most unnatural ritual of burying our children.
Clearly, as we see in the Florida school shooting, if our children observe we cannot secure them, they shall ultimately find a way to secure themselves. Imagine the utter failure of parents and adults who must allow children to lead the way to this nation's security. How absurd and insane is this when the USA spends nearly a trillion dollars on military hardware but cannot secure our children. Sadly, with the US trillion dollar defense budget and military bases in over 150 countries, there is no peace in the world, nor is there any peace in America. God bless America!
We pray for all parents who are grieving at this hour over the lost of their children. We share their grief but want them to know time heals all wounds. Healing shall not come overnight, but it shall come, so be patient and pray to your Lord.
And if you lose a child but have other children, love them with all your heart and soul, no
matter male or female, because fathers addicted to the patriarchal mythology,
your daughters may surprise you to the utmost degree with their talent and intelligence,
thus they shall help you heal from the loss of a male child. Further, your grandchildren will shock you with the spirit of your lost child, but just know your grandchildren may possess the physical and spiritual energy of your lost child, yet you must respect them for themselves and let them be themselves rather than the child you lost. Finally, there are many fatherless and motherless children who need your love. God shall present them to you, so recognize and give them your love. Ache. Ache. Ache.
--Marvin X
3/13/18
83 Black Woman is God--from Sarah Baateman to Serena Williams
The African and/or black body has always been supreme universally, male and female. As per Greeks, Africans were models for their sculpture, just as African thought and mythology was the model for Greek philosophy and mythology (see George M. James, Dr. Ben, Cheikh Anta Dioip, et al.)
The Europeans can claim Sarah was primitivo,i.e., savage, yet she exhibited the finest example of the female physiognomy. Otherwise, how did she become the "Hottentot Venus"? Was she a freak descending from baboons or the model of feminine physiognomy caught in the patriarchal white supremacy mythology that honored, praised and worshiped the African body (and mind), while simultaneously pathologically envious and jealous of such?
In modern times, we have the African goddess supreme, Serena Williams, not to leave out her sister Venus. I must mention the most powerful reaction to a poem I ever heard was at Spelman College in Atlanta, after BAM Master poet Askia Toure' read his praise poem in honor of the William sisters.
“More Than Skin Deep: The Candaces (for Venus & Serena and the sistas)”: “...In the symbolic Landscape of American Media, a pale Goddess appears: tossing-ash blond hair, she pleads, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” with apparent innocence. And millions of dark women are “wiped out,” scarred for life...”
“However, Venus and Serena Williams, Nubian Queens of World Tennis, are not blonds, are not celebrated as beauties by America; are Black in all its implications; voluptuous, full bodied, broad-nosed, full lipped, woolyhaired, sexy Nubians, primordial and sublime....”
172 The Journal of Pan African Studies, vol.4, no.2, December 2010
poet askia toure
The applause from the audience of mostly women was deafening, like an earthquake of pure female joy exploding in the room. It frightened me and when I looked at Askia, he seemed shocked and frightened as well. His poem simply praised the two sistas for their primordial, primitivo, African beauty, more precisely, their Black African beauty as well as their overwhelming skills on the tennis court, comparing them to two black panthers devouring their foes with consummate skill.
And for this moment at Spelman College, Black African women were praised, honored and respected for enduring the degradation of centuries, experimentation, examination, mutilation of the Black Goddess body, heart, mind, soul and color.. See the book Medical Apartheid. From Sara to Serena, the Black Goddess has been the subject of experimentation, alas, she was the foundation of the medical profession known as gynecology. She we begin with Sara? Is not Serena the modern version of Sara, exhibiting her physiognomy and prowness in the present era?
Let’s dispel the patriarchal mythology! Alas, my Mother raised nine children of her own and two grandchildren by herself, a single women. Who do you think god is in my eyes, Mama!.
Little has changed since the era of the socalled "Hottentot Venus." She was from a tribe that was free, not slave, since the Dutch could not conquer them. A socalled free African man assisted and managed her European "tour". Yet, she was a de facto slave. Well, Serena must be considered a free African woman who excelled to the heights with her physical skills at tennis. And yes, she exhibited the consummate African body beautiful, artful, skillful to smash her European Barby Doll opponents so gloriously described in Askia's poem.
So what is the connection between Sarah and Serena, two African goddesses in two eras centuries apart?Well, in the post-black era, we would like to say Serena is just as free and powerful as Sara claimed to be with her exhibition contracts, though most people suspect the contracts were a fraud and she was a de facto slave.
On the other hand, Serena is technically a free North American African woman, though we wonder if she is among the truly free North American Africans, why does the Voting Rights Act need to be renewed to insure her citizenship and voting rights?
Is there really a distance in time and space between Sara and Serena? For sure, Serena did not need to pose nude and pregnant to earn a dollar. We know Serena is rich and yet how similar the pose of Sara and Serena on page nine. How can a socalled free African and her modern counterpart strike the same pose?
Unless she is simply proud of her body as we are of her's and ours, why did she need to pose pregnant in the nude? Sara did try to pose with trappings of civility as per her genitalia.
I am with those in love with our bodies, unashamed of our bodies no matter what shape or form. If my grandchildren would see the pregnant Serena, they would say, "Grandpa, you look like Serena!" And then I would let them punch me in the belly to show them there was strength in my fat pregnant looking belly, so similar to Serena's, especially in the mind of my grandchildren. y
One of my partner’s said she appreciated me because I went nude in the house without shame of my obesity, which didn’t bother me at all.
So we suspect Serena is secure within herself as per her body, thus it was no problem for her to pose nude and pregnant, no matter that some would and did say to me, "She looks like a gorilla," though we suspect they ignore her royal African beauty in league with her ancestor Sara, especially since she was impregnated by a European and many North American African men find this most disgusting in the biological war over the Black sperm between the white and black woman. This white woman/black woman war over sperm is a war of the most pervasive nature. This is biology at its greatest, alas, a life and death battle over the generations to come.
Chancellor Williams told us in his classic Destruction of African Civilizations, this war began 6,000 years ago when the invaders took Kemet and thus began the 6,000 year struggle with mulattoes and their crisis that persisted down to Prince and Obama, “Am I Black, Am I White?” Purple Rain!
Without a doubt, there is war between the white woman and black woman over the black sperm, although on another level the black woman is in desperate straits to answer the call of her body clock! You don't hear me. Maybe if you had daughters and bothered to listen to them, you would be concerned about the Mythology of Pussy and Dick, title of my most controversial book, printed as an 18 page pamphlet, expanded to 400 pages.
As the father of three unmarried daughters, although they are mothers and highly successful women, I am without words when it comes to their choice of a man. Of course, as a revolutionary Black nationalist, I want my daughters to marry Black, but one daughter informed me 75% of her friends have connected with "others".
Let us not berate Serena for hooking up with a European, after all, as one of my daughters told me, "Dad, my biological clock is ticking, please don't answer my phone, I'll never get a man!"
I am not mad at Serena for finding love. Any one of us shall be lucky to find love in this Crazy House Called America. Go for it!
--Marvin X
These poems will resound for as long and as deeply as any love poem that has ever been written by anyone; Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonja Sanchez, Maya et al
--Fahizah Alim
84 Ancestors
Ancestors
Who are the real motherfuckers
who fucked our fathers and mothers
onto good ship jesus
door of no return
sea of blood and bones
sharks and wail
who sold us to the ghost
Baraka say
ancestors we call you in the name of nigguhs
black nigguhs in the hoods of america
not pseudo black kemetic fakes and frauds
scared to see the new imperial king of the realm
too blind by the Sun of Ra to find a bone at pyramid
search in vain year after year
earth is ours
no matter Africa
no matter Arabia
no matter Asia
no matter Americas
no matter Europe
earth is the black man's land
Gullahland is Africa
Africa is Mississippi Alabama Georgia, New Orleans
claim land forever hold tongues
see pyramids of Louisiana Moorish mounds
Seminoles of Florida
Gullahs Geeches up and down coast
ancestors all
fucked by the motherfucker
king and queen motherfucker son of a bitch
male rape child rape mother rape by devil king and queen
massa mistress
miss ann mr ann
motherfuckers all
guilty
charged
Sun Ra say pay
Africa pay too like the white man/woman devil pay
yeah, Africa pay
gold diamonds precious metals everywhere
pay
no pay europe and pay negro
you african motherfucker led us to ship with red flag
through door of no return
warrior now bitch
pants sagging bitch
raped in front of women/children
man whore kept us alive sexing master
massa wanted all women men children
greedy bastard
talk of king's english
fuck english
fuck every word of it
fuck you too
you speak it
love it
seek to purify it
don't say n word
b word
mf
f
p
d
fake asses
let ancestors be cursed for their iniquities
debaucheries
selling of souls in centuries of time
you call them holy
call Mississippi holy
call Alabama Georgia Louisiana Carolina holy ground
marsh swamp bayous rivers creeks
holy trees of strange fruit blood wine
call ancestors from woods forests
call from pine trees moss wood
call rice cane cotton fields
plantation
wicked cities of death in the family
Clara wanted to put head in oven
in detroit of her time
Elijah drunk as a coot she said
Master Fard came selling red silk
same red we followed to shore
red for blood
king sold farmer to ghost, Baraka said
Baraka say railroad in ocean bottom
filled with bones
ancestor bones resisted wailed cried shitted
vile moans shouts screams to the motherfucker
son of a bitch ancestor king
pitted tribe against tribe warrior against warrior
man against woman for trinkets barrels of rum
we yet praise them
in our abject ignorance
culture of madness and gold
madness and diamonds
madness and chopped hands clitoris legs
no end even today
kings and queens alive and well
presidents prime ministers
working overtime to feed themselves full
as we whore and rape each other into night of full moon
where silence is loud world over
silence of hunger disease
silence of ignorance demands king for life
never end terror
never avenge righteous
plunder til new kingdom comes
wicked reduced to dust
motherfucker receives his fucking
Amen.
--Marvin X
4.17.09
.
85 Parable of Love
In the 60s and 70s, we wanted to transcend the English language because we recognized it as the slave master's tongue, the tongue of the true "motherfucker" who had kidnapped, raped and robbed our ancestors, the men, women and children. In our frantic and desperate effort to rid ourselves of English, we tried Swahili and Arabic, and this functioned for a short time, even though these languages originated from another slave master, the Arab, yet much of our literature was in Arabic and Swahili. Those Muslims who learned to pray in Arabic found a sense of joy in transcending English in our sacred moments, and Swahili gave many cultural nationalists a feeling that we were regaining our African consciousness, at least linguistically, no matter that Swahili is basically an East African tongue and most of us descended from West Africa. A few did learn Yoruba, especially those North American Africans in Harlem who gravitated to the Yoruba religion as practiced by Baba Serjiman Olatunji.
As a result of this minuscule understanding of African languages, parents began naming their children non-English titles. This was a grass roots attempt to reclaim some semblance of our collective memory, additionally it was an attempt to distance ourselves from Christian names and Christianity itself, since the English language and the slave master's religion were part of the "breaking in" or brainwashing and behavior modification to transform us from Kunta Kinte to Toby.
Bill Cosby was a shameful black bourgeoisie slob when he attacked black mothers and fathers who gave their children African names or even Africanized English names, so prominent in the South. The Southern names are so unique and original, even in their spelling, that we should applaud the parents for their effort to reclaim their cultural memory. When the culture of North American Africans is studied, those Southern names shall constitute a genre apart from the traditional African or Arabic names.
In the 60s, we also referred to each other as king and queen, and often dressed accordingly, giving up the Western attire for dashikis and bubas, elegant headdresses or gayles. Men wore African crowns rather than fedoras. This was all part of the cultural revolution that was an essential part of the political liberation. There can be no revolution without a change in cultural consciousness. Language plays an essential part since language is a reflection and expression of mythology and ritual, components of culture.
In the Black Arts Movement, we wanted to break out of the English language as well. Use of so called profanity was one attempt to express ourselves in the basic language of our people. It was also a method of putting "curses" on the oppressor by rejecting his proper speech in favor of grass roots linguistics. And yet some of us were multi-lingual, often combining Arabic, Swahili and grass roots English. And then there was the attempt to purify our works of so called profanity. During the height of my Muslim period, especially my time in Harlem, 1968, I purged my work of profanity until Sun Ra pulled my coat that I was trying to be so right I was wrong.
And so we are in a linguistic conundrum, because every writer is duty bound to speak the language of his people, especially if he and his people are going through the process of decolonization from the culture of the oppressor. The great Kenyan writer Ngugi wa Thiango has called for African writers to abandon the English language and return to writing in their native tongues. But the majority of North American Africans speak English, so what choice do we have but to use English until we can discover another language. Hip Hop has fashizzel, but don't know how far we can go with fashizzel.
Often, the most significant change we can do is redefine the language, reverse meanings that are negative into positive. Black was at one time a fighting word—if you called someone black you better be ready to fight. Now black is beautiful. Nigguh is another term that was negative but today is a global expression of love among the Hip Hop generation. It is a multi-ethnic term. Youth around the world are calling themselves nigguhs, even when they have little or no understanding of the historical significance of the term. The older generation of North American Africans go into a tizzy when they hear youth, especially non-Africans, using the term.
But this is due to their fixation on the original meaning as something negative, while we must understand that language is dynamic and fluid, ever changing, so we must flow with the flow. The term Negro is archaic, although I love the term because it calls to mind a time when we had our own society even though we lived under segregation. But imagine, when we were Negroes we had Harlem, Fillmore, South side of Chicago, and other enclaves of black culture. We had Seventh Street in Oakland.
Today we are Black but where is Harlem, Fillmore, Seventh Street, either destroyed or on the way to gentrification. As Negroes we had our own restaurants, hotels, clubs, newspapers, magazines. What do we have today? Nothing, hardly a pot to piss in except for a few high class blacks who act white for all practical purposes—like Bill Cosby rejecting the linguistic originality of his people, a Negro who grew up in funky Philly, yeah, a Philly dog Negro. So what happened to our use of Arabic and Swahili, or referring to each other as king and queen?
With the destruction of the liberation movement came the destruction of culture, thus the necessity of the cultural revolution to get back on track, on the right path or ihdina sirata al mustaqim. And then we must practice eternal vigilance, stay ever alert and watchful that we do not relapse into our negrocities. It shall be a daunting task because our situation is not only a linguistic dilemma, but we must resolve contradictions in our social relations, male/female relations, brother to brother/sister to sister/ parent to child relations, even our relationship to the Creator.
But when we become disgusted with the youth of today, their language and nihilistic behavior, the violence and general self hatred and low self esteem, we must understand that they observed our language and behavior, saw the contradictions and sometimes emulated them. And then along came Crack that caused a great chasm between adults and children, children who were abandoned, abused and neglected, emotionally starved and traumatized.
To reverse the present condition will require unconditional love and understanding of the depths of the problem. Our children require Divine love and healing. It is not a stretch to say they have come under the power of the devil, hence their behavior is beyond our understanding, especially those of us who consider ourselves so conscious to the point of puritanical. We have worked on ourselves over the decades, so it is disgusting to observe youth behavior, and often we match Bill Cosby in our reactionary attitudes toward our children who shall not recover until we decide to reach out and touch them with the language of love, demonstrating our love by answering the many questions they have as persons in search of their sexual and adult identity.
Many have had no manhood or womanhood training. They received no parental love since many of the parents were Crack addicted and thus they suffer arrested development. We have fifty year old adults bouncing to rap music, pants sagging with skull and bones on their gear, so they cannot speak to the children--they are stuck in childhood themselves.
We must listen to the youth and answer their questions as truthfully as we can and don't reveal our contradictions except to let them know we are human and have our foibles. For sure, they are watching us, every word we say, every action we make. Not long ago I took a young man on my book tour of the East coast. We were in Brooklyn at my daughter's house, and my ex-wife was there as well. The young man observed me talking with my ex-wife. He asked my daughter how did it feel to see her mother and father talking together, since he had hardly ever seen his mother and father talking, especially in a friendly, loving manner.
Imagine how many youth are like this young man. Both his parents were on Crack, and he loves them both, but there is an estrangement, an emotional void, a psycholinguistic crisis, for how shall he talk with his girl? Can he tell her he loves her, how shall he say it? Where and when did he hear the language of love? And then love is not a word, but an action, a verb, not a noun. I was guilty of abandonment of my children as a Crack head. One of my daughters wrote me and said, "Daddy, you say you love me, but you don't take care of me. Mama says she loves me and shows me she does. What is your problem?"
So even parents who are estranged, separated or divorced can and must let the children see they can be civil, even if they are not friends, even if they hate each other. Don't make the child hate the father because you hate him, or hate the mother. Let's show our children love, maybe then they will emulate our positive behavior and raise up from their animal actions.
And don't let their language stress you, be more concerned about their behavior. Again, language is dynamic and fluid, so flow with the flow. Guns kill, not language, and yet we know the power of words, and this is why I say silence is golden, until we evolve a true language of love, and it may not involve words but simple acts of kindness, for if you show me you love me, there is no need for words.
86 Parable of the Gangsta
He wanted to be a gangsta since childhood. He watched his big brothers gang banging, in and out of prison, the funerals, parties with more wine than they had at the Last Supper. Females were always on hand serving the brothers, raising their babies, visiting them in jail and prison. Big cars, flashy clothes, bling bling, the little brother watched and waited his turn.
When it was time for him to join, he got ready for the initiation. On that day he was required to kill and rape. He was ready. No matter his mother was a hard working house cleaner who took the bus to work. She wanted none of her children's ill gotten gain. She was a Christian woman who tried to get him into college, rather than go the path of her other sons.
But he had other plans. He didn't want to be a square. He hated squares. They were, in his mind, suckers for the white man. He saw them with their suits and ties and brief cases, thinking they were all that and a bag of chips. He saw them in the dope house coping, along with their square girls. When the girls got sprung, they would leave the square nigguhs for the dope man.
He watched the square brothers get broke and turn tricks with the dope man in front of their women. He vowed to his dead gangsta brothers he would not be a square, but would be like them, even though they didn't want him to end up like them, in prison or a coffin early in life. Thursdays was gang initiation night in the hood.
Most people stayed off the street on Thursdays, unless people got off work late and had to walk home. Anyone could be a victim if caught on the street. He drove around looking for a victim, not far from his house. It didn't matter who it was. On a dim lighted street he saw a woman and snatched her onto the ground, tearing off her clothes. She screamed and yelled but he didn't care, especially since he was loaded on dope and out of his mind.
He didn't bother to look at the woman's face as he raped her. When he finished he turned her around and got the shock of his life. She was his mother! He ran to his car in shame and horror.When he got home he took out his gun and shot himself in the head and fell to the floor dead. He was now a gangsta.
87 Parable of A Real Woman
There was a man who had many women in his life. They had come and gone, with himself at fault most of the time. But he wouldn't give up, he continued his self improvement and search for that special woman. He talked with elder women about what he should do. One told him he'd never had a real woman! If so, she would still be with him, no matter what, through thick and thin, up times and down times. Well, he asked, how would he know when such a woman was in his presence. First, clean up your own act, she said. Scoop your own poop. Rid yourself of defects of character. Make amendments to all those you have harmed in life. It takes humility to do this.
Still, how will I know the real woman? The older woman answered, you will know because when she comes over your house and sees something amiss, she will take authority to correct the situation. If your house is dirty, she will immediately ask if she can clean it as a favor to you, as an act of love. She will not want any money for her services. And she will clean your house as it has never been cleaned before because she knows what she is doing. Yes, she is a pro, not only with house cleaning but with every thing she does, including her love making. She will make sure you are satisfied and herself as well.
She will demand respect and will respect you. She will demand freedom and give you freedom. She will speak in the language of love so smooth that it will be like a razor cutting to the heart. You will be bleeding to death but not know you are cut.
You will do what she suggests and do it willingly because it will not be a demand but a request said so subtle you won't recognize it for what it actually is: a demand. And you will love doing what she requests.
When you need space and time to yourself you won't need to explain, she will pick up the vibe.
And you will do the same for her.
She will not be jealous and envious of your talent and skills or how handsome you are to other women. She knows she has you in her pocket because she is confident of herself, and not worried about some other woman taking her man.
If you are taken by another woman, it must be the will of God that you go. She knows God will replace her emptiness with someone even better than you. But she will give you time to get a grip on yourself and find your way back home. Just don't take too long and when you come home don't be asking about what she was doing while you were gone.
A real woman will put her resources at your disposal if you are worthy of them, as the prophet Muhammad was treated by the wealthy trade woman Khadijah. There is no selfishness in love. All is for the beloved, but a wise woman ain't no fool. As the song says, the greatest thing you will ever do is love and be loved in return.
The man thanked the elder woman for her wisdom and departed on his search.
Comment on the Wisdom of Plato Negro
The Wisdom of Plato Negro is for the forty something up. No persons who haven't lived a few years can appreciate the things Marvin X says in The Wisdom of Plato Negro. You need to be at least forty to understand, and even then, this is not a book to read in one setting, even if it is easy reading. It is a book to read in a relaxed situation, and then only read one or two of the parables at a time. They must be carefully digested, each one.
Think about them, what was the real meaning? Again, if you haven't lived a few years, there's no way you can appreciate some of the things he says. For example, the Parable of the Real Woman. A young man who hasn't had many experiences with women cannot possibly understand this parable. If a woman comes to his house and cleans it out of love, a young man cannot appreciate this. He will tell her thanks, then go get a flashy woman who is never going to clean his house, mainly because she doesn't know how. But the dude will go for her because she is cute, but the real woman he rejects, the one with common sense and dignity, who may not be a beauty queen.
--Anon
88 For the Warriors
I have seen the best warriors of my generation
starved into submissions
exiled into loneliness capitulation
imprisoned assassination
seeking only the American dream
not Moscow Peking Havana
American dream
lonely warriors of forgotten causes
who did not enrich themselves
in the proper bourgeoisie manner
property stocks bonds
lonely warriors
unknown and known
some filled tv radio newspapers
night after night
standing tall against injustice
standing with honesty sacrifice
unselfish unconditional love for the people
naive to the insincere
naive to the opportunist
naive to the pseudo intellectual
but sacrificing always
for the cause
eternal cause
that in time
blew their minds.
Now they see ghosts
Jesus Christ in the moon
left thinking right thinking
gone for sure
focus shattered
what can we do in this state
who will follow who will listen
you were our hero you were our hope
now you see ghosts
Jesus in the moon
and we are afraid
for there are no ghosts
no Jesus in the moon.
--Marvin X
89 Beat Ya Boss African
Beat ya boss African
are yr brave enough
why beat ya woman
she yo exploiter
oppressor
beat kya boss African
don't beat the field produce yo nation
beat yo boss African
don't beat yo wife
don't beat yo brother
beat yo boss
he pimpin ya ta death
got ya workin
30 yrs fa gold watch
don't work
beat ya boss African
he's the real motherfucker
fucked ya moma
beat ya boss African
90 He Was
He was a rolls royce negro
without a rolls royce
economic negro
no economic plan
political negro
no political machine
bible toting negro
didn't read the bible
phd negro
couldn't write his name
international negro
didn't have a nation
pan african negro
wouldn't live in africa
islamic negro
refused to jihad
romantic negro
hated romance
negro leader
refused to lead
he was negro
black man
afro
african
afrikan
nubian
bilalian
jamaican
american
now he's........
--Marvin X
91 Fleeta Drumgo, San Quentin Brother
Fletta Fleeta
died at my doorstep
San Quentin Brother
broken warrior
I heard the shot that brought you low
Fleeta
I saw them get into their car
police types
I saw them from my window
was it drugs or revolution Fleeta
police came to my door
refused to answer
didn't know it was you
they killed that day
didn't know it was you
head they'd blown away
Fleeta
when the police knocked
I thought it was set up
more dirty tricks
I remember the last time you called Fleeta
you called but never came
we went to the airport for you
but you never came
except the final day
dreadful day
at my doorstep.
--Marvin X
92 Progressive Woman
Come my comrade
whisper in my ear
liberation of Pan Africa
so proud of you
revolutionary woman
fight on until victory
so nice to see
you haven't given up
gone back to sleep
fight on my sister my comrade
we may not agree on ideology, tactics strategy
at least you're alive
to facades of this world
you want something new
a new order for people who won't surrender
in fear trembling
fight on my sister my comrade.
--Marvin X
Nellie and T. Monk
93 Round Midnight
Monk's gone
I ain't blue
Monk's gone
I ain't blue
where he's gone
I'm goin too
Death is always round
tryin to steal life
death is always round
trying to steal life
if it don't get the husband
it'll get the wife.
Monk's gone
I ain't blue
Monk's gone
I ain't blue.
--Marvin X
94 I'll Walk Alone
This road
I'll walk alone
men of fear
cannot walk this road
I'll walk alone
there is no gratitude down this road
no thanks
I'll walk alone
men who see mirages
cannot walk this road
men whose wives and children
are dearer to them than Allah
cannot walk this road
men who cry who snibble
who take evidence to Pharaoh
cannot walk this road
I'll walk alone.
95 Letter to my lover
You hate me because I am a revolutionary
I did not ask to be a revolutionary
revolution chose me
you say you love me
because I am a man
but I am a man because I am a revolutionary
I want suffering to end
want the bloodsuckers of the poor to exit!
It is not my choice to be a revolutionary
hunted wanted watched betrayed
I am from a long line of men and women
who dare to think speak act.
Love me or leave me
I am a revolutionary!
Liberty or death!
96 Love and Spirituality
God is love. The love of God is the path through which we come to love humanity. If we cannot love humanity we cannot love God. You say you love God, but you hate niggers. What if God turned out to be a nigger? What if your daughter married a nigger?
I cannot hate Christians because my children are in the church, my people are in the church. I just say, "Get right church." Come into the new millennium. Discard that slavery time theology, servants be obedient to your master. You are too close to Pharaoh to be close to Jesus. Jesus was not with Pharaoh or Caesar. Liberation theology is what Jesus was about. If you love Jesus, you love liberation, you love revolution. If you hate revolution you hate Jesus. Jesus liberated the human spirit and it was a radical liberation of love.
A radical understanding of Jesus will allow one to reach spiritual maturity for we shall understand all things possess love and reflect love. This is true for humans, animals and nature. Look into the creek and see love flowing in the water. Look at the rose and see love. Look at the woman, the man, the child, for they are manifestations of love. If they are evil it is not God's fault but society. What is more loving than a baby until that baby is abused, deprived and abandoned. That loving child becomes a murderer, a rapist, a sociopath. That child becomes a mental patient. That child has no knowledge of love.
Prisoners will tell you they never received a hug in their life. Now we sometimes hear that a child was just born evil. Maybe we should check the DNA—it could be from a family of murderers, rapists, bank robbers, pimps. Even then the child can be redeemed with love power. I know a sister who adopted five crack babies. Some were unable to speak, had been abandoned, came from criminal families, but she showered them with love and attention, and under the circumstances, they are doing fine.
All children have problems, even the Kennedy children and the Bush children. Of course it could be something in the DNA, especially with the Bush children. Or it could be socialization. They're just doing what they saw their parents doing, like smoking crack.
The soul longs for love just as the thirsty longs for water. Love can be seen on the face of one who possesses it, in the eyes, in the skin. We can see love as we see the sun. Love can be heard in the voice of the lover and the beloved. It is the voice of total submission. There is absolutely nothing the lover won't do for the beloved. It is a selfless condition. The lover is no longer capable of selfishness, but is at the whim of the beloved. It is often a condition of helplessness. The lover will say, "I just can't help myself." That's why they say fools fall in love.
The lovers are helpless. They are blind. They refuse to see flaws, sometimes tragic flaws, in the beloved. In the eyes of the lover, the beloved is perfect. Mother and father can tell the lover nothing against the beloved. It is a condition approaching insanity, if not insanity itself.
I remember traveling from New York City to Montreal, Canada in the dead of winter to see my beloved. I have never experienced such cold weather since then, but the lips of my beloved took away any feeling of cold. Yes, she warmed my soul, even though when I went out into the street my face was frozen in seconds.
The heart is a precious thing, brittle as glass. All kinds of acts, from the heroic to savage, are committed in the name of love. The jails and prisons are full of men and women who committed crimes in the name of love. The mental wards are full of people who were in love but suffered a broken heart and never recovered.
The hospitals are full of people who were beaten bloody in the name of love, and the morgue is full of those who died in the name of love. Look at the dead soldiers coming back to America because of their love of country.
It is very difficult not to lose oneself in the name of love. By the nature of love, we lose oneself in the self of another. In my play One Day in the Life, the woman says to her man, "I put you before my son, but no more, you blew it buddy, I hate you."
Oh, when love turns to hate. That is when the sparks fly. That is when we discover love was quite superficial, whimsical, purely emotional, sexual, but not spiritual, emanating from the deep structure of the Divine mind, where love is tempered with reason and discipline, not based on pure emotion that can be shattered at the ring of a cell phone, "Who's that calling you, let me see, better not be that bitch, your baby's mama." Oh, love, a many splendid thing.
Spiritual consciousness allows us to withstand the pain of love, to appreciate the joy of love, to understand that love can be ephemeral, quite short-lived, if not based on Divine love that lasts forever. While lovers come and go, the river will always flow, the birds will fly, the bees will buzz, so flow with the flow. Let lovers love God and they shall find loving each other a pleasure.
A love supreme. A love supreme. A love supreme. A love Supreme.
Friday, October 5, 2012
97 Parable of the Woman at the Well
A woman asked Plato why are youth out of control ? He replied that youth are out of control because adults are out of control and youth observe then emulate their behavior.
Even during the revolutionary 60s, the militants, who are the fathers and mothers of today’s youth, were guilty of contradictions, or saying one thing but doing another. They talked black power but went home to beat their wives and women. They preached discipline but were guilty of drug abuse and abuse of power. Much of our behavior was patriarchal white supremacy actions that debased women, considering them less than human.
Of course we learned this behavior from our white supremacy socialization. True enough, there were many good things we learned and achieved during that time, and many sincere and honest people gave their lives for the cause of freedom.
But if we had been of sober minds, we would have been able to detect agent provocateurs and snitches. We would have been able to see through the US Government’s counter intelligence program or Cointelpro. With sobriety and discipline, we might have been able to show our children better examples of male/female relations, and perhaps today’s youth would be more respectful of women, elders and peers.
The woman asked Plato what can be done today to reconnect with our children ? Plato said we must embrace them with unconditional love and do not abuse them, physically, sexually or otherwise. Do not show them contradictory behavior, saying one thing but doing the opposite.
We must not say we are about freedom, yet make their mothers slaves in the home, treating them with abuse that the children observe. Many children have been abandoned and left to fend for themselves. They are without mother or father. Many are living in foster homes, the result of parental drug and sexual abuse.
Adults must stop being predators and instead be mentors and guides. The youth want and seek our wisdom, but we must reach out to them because many are terrified of us just as we are terrified of them. It is communal insanity when we allow children to rule our community, making us afraid to go outside at night, afraid to go to the store.
But we can only take back control of our community by reconnecting and embracing our children, no matter how painful it is for us and them. We must make amends to them for our wickedness and then demand of them the same.
Yes, they must apologize to the elders they have harmed and disrespected. What we are talking about is the urgent need for a healing session between youth and adults, a time and space where we can gather to admit our mistakes and promise to do better now and in the future.
We must, youth and adults, swallow our pride and reconnect. We cannot allow the chaos to continue because we know things go from bad to worse, if we do not address the issues. Nothing is going to change until we change our thinking and actions. We must rise up from animal to divine. The tide is turning because you are turning the tide!
Mothers and fathers who are separated must come together for the sake of their children, if only for a moment. When children see parents reconciling, they will do likewise. No matter the pain of the past, adults must show the way to community unity.
Why shouldn’t youth resort to violence, after all, they see adults resolving their conflicts with violence? Adults cannot get out of our responsibility to show the way, to guide and mentor. Every youth is our child, thus our responsibility to show the right way.
Give youth a chance, support them when they are selling items other than dope, such as DVDs, CDs, gear and other items to get their hustle on in a legal way. At least they are not killing to make a dollar, so reach out to them. Hug a thug before the thug hugs you!
The woman seemed to understand the wisdom of Plato. Although frustrated to the max, she said she would try to reach out to youth, rather than simply complain about their behavior and shortcomings.
98 Gospel of the Game
a film based on the book by James Robinson
written and directed by Rosebud Bitterdose
Nigguh wanna pimp
can you out pimp Nixon, Carter, Reagan, Clinton, Bush
Can you in yo cad, one suit, one hoe
can you out pimp Standard Oil, Chase Manhattan, Lloyd's of London, Bank of America
They pimpin presidents, generals
men, women and children
aunts, uncles
nigguh wanna pimp
(from “Nigguh Wanna Pimp,” a poem by Marvin X, revised 2003)
After the films American Pimp and Pimps Up, Ho's Down, what else do we need to know about pimping? Did you know pimps can recover from their addiction? If whores can recover, why not pimps? In San Francisco there is an organization called SAGE that helps women recover from their debasing life as sex workers. And now Recovery Theatre was recently informed, actually during the private screening of this film that the author, James Robinson/aka Jimmy Starr, of the novel on which the film is based realized pimping was an addiction after attending a mental health group session at Recovery Theatre.
"As I sat in Recovery Theatre in Dr. Nathan Hare's group session called Black Reconstruction, I said what the hell am I doing in Recovery Theatre. Then it hit me that my life of pimping had been an addiction and that I was in recovery, had been in recovery for over ten years. And I realized my whores had been addicted too. What a revelation for me!"
Well, the film would have been a monster, perhaps, if it had told the story of pimps in recovery rather than spend a majority of time showing scenes glorifying the ancient art. Only at or near the end do we hear the pimps recant their lifestyle, but thankfully, we actually believe them, although more confessional statements would leave no doubt about their sincerity.
But let's get to the point: this film was about the life and times of Fillmore Slim, San Francisco's legendary mild mannered, gentle, soft spoken, master pimp, the West Coast godfather of the game, in short, the pope of pimping. Although known nationwide in the game, the life and times of Fillmore Slim became even more well known in American Pimp, but obviously that wasn't enough for the pope, so an entire movie had to be devoted to him, as is only proper—Fillmore is definitely not a minor character in the game, trust me, he was a major player.
American Pimp gave us a very good slice of his good pimping life, but one of my friend's told me this story, "Back in the day, Fillmore was the man. Now Charlie Walker held down Hunters Point with his good hustling, player, sometimes pimping game. But Charlie was a brute, Fillmore was smooth as silk. Me and my buddy used to ride through the Fillmore counting Fillmore's ho's, always between ten and fifteen deep. He was true to the game and the game was true to him."
The film consists of numerous interviews with pimps, female sex workers (if you like this politically correct term, absolutely unpoetic to this writer), all praising and acknowledging Fillmore as the master of the game.
There are numerous cuts to Fillmore giving up the game, even blessing a young pimp into the game, charging him, of course. A student of black studies at the screening said this rite of passage could be emulated by the Black Arts Movement, or the liberation movement because it was a necessary ritual for membership into a family, and why should not revolution be a family affair? Contrary to the view of writer Ewuare Osayande, a rite of passage ritual would be helpful to initiate the next generation of poets and artists who believe in the ideology of the Black Arts Movement.
The BAM is no game, no scam, it is the real deal holyfield revolution, yes, the same one David Walker wrote about, that Nat Turner got hung for, that Marcus Garvey and Elijah trained us for, that Malcolm and Martin were murdered for by the USA to prevent the rise of a black messiah. The Black Studies student also noticed that the film showed a young brother who wanted to be in the game, but was known to have a mental disability, yet the pimps acknowledged him and said he was part of the family. The student said the Black Arts Movement must show similar love to those brothers and sisters in the BAM. After all, do any of us have a clean bill of mental health?
Can you pimp a jew
Nigguh wanna pimp
Can you pimp Arabia
Nigguh wanna pimp
Can you pimp Africa and Latin America?
Nigguh wanna pimp.
The young student was saying that accepting all members of the family is what the black revolution needs to practice, although one must admit the black revolution did have a certain degree of unconditional love, so much love that snitches, agents, and all points in between were acceptable, although at times love was in short order and even the righteous, the innocent were cut down because of psychopathic thoughts, including paranoia, working in the revolution, not to mention often at the instigation of Cointelpro, the US government's counter intelligence program to disrupt the black revolution.
Can you pimp the father, the son and the holy ghost?
Nigguh wanna pimp
Can you pimp teachers, preachers, politicians and judges?
Nigguh wanna pimp, yeah!
For those still in the game, Gospel of the Game might be a lesson on what to forget and forgive, all the pimps forgotten, all the hoes forgotten and forgiven, and yes, forgive the pimps too since they are victims in the terrorist war against black America. If you ain't pimpin like Colin and Condoleza the Skeeza, you ain't pimpin at all—go get a day job. That's what Fillmore did—he plays and sings the blues throughout the world.
Just before he left on a recent European tour, I talked with him about the game:
I just came from North Carolina on a concert with Snoop Dog and other good pimpin nigguhs. I go along with Snoop Dog because he recognizes me and seeks my blessings, but he ain't hardly no pimp—it's all in his mind. These young nigguhs ain't doing nothing but messin up the game.
First of all they ain't got no class, pimpin with they pants hangin off they ass, in joggin suits, they messin up the game. But I go along with them cause they recognize me, bow down to me, but what they doing ain't hardly pimpin. Another thing: we never beat our women, but these stupid young nigguhs wanna kill their woman if she leave them—don't no real pimps do that—then they wanna kill a brother if the ho go to him—that ain't in the game.
"They think the woman supposed to be with them for life, wanna beat her up. They don't understand, if they don't beat her, she might come back to them. These youngsters messin up the game. I'm not gonna condemn the game, see, because I got people on both sides. But I paid my dues, I went to prison. I'm not proud of what I did and what I tell people is think about the consequences of your actions. There's a price for being in this game. Think about how you end up.
Consider this sad reality: film writer, director Rosebud said it was the book Pimp by Iceberg Slim that not only turned him onto pimping, but also to writing—he is now the author of four books, so who knows, if he had been turned onto writing and righteousness at a young age, he would be a great writer by now, instead of just getting into the game of words. And James Robinson said the same, so there is a message here for all writers, teachers, intellectuals, preachers, politicians and judges, that if we get to our youth soon enough, we can guide them on the right path to freedom, justice, and equality. Let us be true to the game, so the game will be true to us! 12/21/03
99 Pimpin'
I am not a pimp. I am a hustler, sometimes a trick. A hustler waits for no one to bring his money, he gets his own. It is beneath his dignity to wait or depend on a woman or anyone to get his hustle going. All he needs is product, almost anything will do, even a roll of toilet paper he can hustle. But the pimp's thing is women, he considers himself their manager and they consider him the same, usually by mutual agreement, often by torture, kidnapping and exploitation, including mind control, deprivation of sleep, food and isolation.
Having never been a pimp, I cannot speak with total authority, although I have been around pimps off and on my entire life, from growing up on 7th Street in Oakland to hanging with pimps in New York. My brother's claim to fame is pimping. He never desired anything else in life but pimping, as a result his life has been pimping and prison, nothing else. I have been deprived of his brotherly love because of his pimping and prison life.
Many of my friends were pimps, including some of my Muslim brothers who said they made their ho's make salat or prayer before they went out on the stroll. I was around Muslim pimps on the east coast who had their women selling bean pies and whoring to buy Crack.
More recently I had the pleasure of meeting several pimps-in-recovery at my theatre in San Francisco's Tenderloin district when we produced the Black Radical Book Fair in 2004. The pimps included Fillmore Slim, Gansta Brown, Jimmy Starr and Rosebud Bitterdose. They claim to have given up pimpin and have indeed written books and films on the gospel of the game.
In the case of Fillmore Slim, he is still greatly respected as the godfather of pimpin, especially on the West coast. He hooked up with me to see if I could help him get the message to young people that pimpin ain't easy and there's a price to be in the game. If you willing to pay the price, then go for it, but just know you are going to pay. Fillmore paid with several prison terms.
He says these young brothers call themselves pimpin but ain't hardly pimpin, ain't doing nothing but messin up the game. Don't have no style, no class. If you saw the BET awards last night, Prince was the only artist with class, the others looked like bums and derelicts, especially the hip hop brothers. As Fillmore said about young pimps, they don't know how to dress. And he said they most certainly don't know how to treat a lady. They want to beat women. He said they don't understand if they don't beat her, she might come back. They want to kill another nigguh if she runs off with him. This ain't part of the game. Don't be killing people, he said, like you own the woman. You don't own nobody. When she choose you, she with you, when she choose somebody else, let her go. Fillmore said these young nigguhs act like they in love. And keep a night job, he says, because pimpin ain't easy.
Young brothers so close up on the ho a trick can't get to her. And the nigguh look more like a woman than the woman. You don't know who to turn a date with, the pimp or the ho. He got earrings in both ears, blond hair and pants hangin off his behind, living at his mama's house, pimpin on a bicycle. Nigguh please.
Pimp like Bush. Get you a real ho like Condi Rice that can ho all over the world, that can serve presidents, prime ministers, generals.The white man is the world's greatest pimp: he pimpin you and yo woman, but you don't have a clue. On BET last night he pimped some of our greatest artists, had them parading as nothing but naked whores.
Nig
guh pimps got babies on the street, eleven, twelve and thirteen. What they know about ho'in? They don't know how to put a rubber on a nigguh, let alone give head. They need to be in school. Get their GED. And the pimp needs to go with them to get his. Imagine the social consequences of over a million children dropping out of school each year, over 50% of them. Society, including the school, the religious community
and the politicians are responsible for children choosing the pimp life, especially when our nation needs scientists and engineers if we are to have a future beyond pimpin and whoring.
posted 29 June 2006
Monday, May 25, 2015
Sun Ra and Mythology of Pussy and Dick
Sun Ra taught me there are two kinds of music, spiritual music devoted to the Creator of the Universe and P and D Music, i.e., pussy and dick music. Alas, my pamphlet Mythology of Pussy and Dick is reaching young and old people with a healing message. Of my 30 books, this 18 page pamphlet has caught the attention of the world.
101Nobody wants nobody free
Nobody wants nobody free
we love slaves
we are love slaves
I love you madly
I will kill faya
Kill you faya
I love you madly
you are mine
I am yours
we own each other
your pussy is mine
my dick is yours
this is called marriage
also chattel slavery
personal property slavery
not real estate
no W.E.B. DuBois
personal property
chattel real
ownership is the question and the answer
you do not need to own me
I do not need to own you
I am yours willingly
You are mine Willingly
Alas, I am your love slave
like those artists with Sun Ra
they agreed to be in the Sun Ra jail!
Even I agreed. I am his disciple even now
trying to understand the full glory of his mythology
I have begun the First Poet's Church of the Latter Day Egyptian Rivisionists
Sun Ra taught me this
yes
Latter Day Egyptian Rivisionists
the contradiction is this
artists impose their creative mythology on lowly humans
who say Wake Up to What?
who say
in an August Wilson play, "I don't have all the answers. I don't even know the questions, sometimes."
Even Sun Ra who denied freedom in the quest for discipline
the most free spirit we know is who? Sun Ra! Ra Ra RA RA!
Artists need to know our thoughts are beyond the beyond
sometimes not for the common people the workers students unemployed uneducated
artists are dreamers of the worst kind
we sit imagining possibilities and impossibilities
Baraka said we artists live a privileged life
so I say be careful about imposing the creative mythology and ritual on the common people.
Be careful as you deliver beauty and truth.
And yet would the people know how beautiful they are except for images of artists
poets
dancers
musicians
painters
architects
To transcend Sun Ra, I say let us be free with discipline
not free to be free
as in a capitalism freedom
free trade
wage slavery
stolen land minerals
for what
minerals for cell phones so we can say Where you at? Where you at? Where you at?
Don't own me
I will not own you
we are together because I can laugh with you
we dialogue in poetry
so beautiful
I can read your mind
you read mine
no lies up in here
be with me because we are we
it is what it is
they say.
102 Plastic
Plastic man
Ugly plastic shoes
No daddy ugly shoes
No Stacy Adams
Plastic ugly shit
No daddy shit
Pants off behind prison gay shit
Anything advertised for sale no?
Punk is punk
Prison punk hood punk same
Weak is weak
Warrior warrior same
Solid don’t break solid
Weak nigga weak in hood
Big yard took
Solid don’t bend
China make
50 cent shoe
nigga pay $300.00
Trick nigga trick
Life trick
How you start how you end
Game don’t change
Better ax somebody
Bitch nigga
He in da mix
kill fa shoes
No hustle ass nigga
Wait fa bitch money ass nigga
Pimpin sympin
mama’s house bicycle pimp
Pimp first cousin sista pimp
Get real shamin’ game nigga pimp
Nigga ho’ love pimp
Baby mama pimp
What ho’ stay nigga
Ho’ come ho’ go nigga
Ax Fillmore where his ho’s
Where day go
Prison
Mental hospital
Cemetery
Church ho’
Preacher pimp
Ho’ church ho
Dress so tight
Can’t listen preacher sermon
Eyes stuck ho’s ass
Thank you Jesus
Thank you Jesus
Hallelujah
Ho’ heaven ho’ go
Fillmore say don’t beat ho’
Ho’ come back
Marry go round ho
Fillmore say.
Poor ghetto nigga kill fa nigga shoes
Fuck dat bitch ass nigga
Yeah I smoked ‘m took shoes
Took money too
Ma baby mama gotta eat
Baby too
Pampers fool
Plastic car
clothes
water
food
fish
neon lights fish
japan radiation fish
plastic whale fish
sardine can plastic fish
plastic islands bigger 'n two Texas
Plastic island bigger’n two texas
No matter
International waters plastic island
plastic dicks pussies
plastic ho's
tricks
plastic love
plastic cell phone sex
no touch feel sex
text sex climax
baby I lick ya stick ya
cum girl cum
cum phone cum
ho suckin fuckin
pimp listening
make dat white man cum ho'
get ma money bitch
don't spend all night wit dat nigga can't cum
fuck him
get white trick cum quick
git ma money bitch
all niggas sick
Nigga lie say I’m woke
Nigga comatose
Sleep in eyes walkin’ dead
Plastic cell phone dead
Crack hand dead yesterday
Cell phone hand dead today
Dead is dead
Freddie’s Dead
You heard?
Freddie’s Dead
Freddy sick
ho' sick
pimp sick
trick sick
wife home sick
children sick
plastic tv sick
preacher sick
teacher sick
what song say
preachers gotta preach new way
teachers gotta teach new way
wake up everybody
square bitch sick
square nigga sick
can't rap pussy date sick
Ho’ know nigga hit pipe go limp dick
Plastic dildo purse sick
Limp dick nigger
No rap nigga
All niggas ain’t Kanye P Diddy Jay Z
all niggas can't rap
crack got no rappin' niggas pussy first time history
no rap nigga got pussy crack rock pussy no matter pussy pussy
nerd got pussy old man grandfather get pussy
no age grade square shit
grandfather got rock
grandfather get young pussy
crack rock mama son pussy/dick
Sleep in same bed love
Let me serve you son
Fuck dem crack ho’s son
Let me suck yo dick son
crack rock father/daughter pussy/dick
father daughter baby cum love
Muslim/Christian father daughter love
daddy tongue kiss daughters crack love
auntie turn out niece pussy pussy love
niece want dick auntie want pussy pussy love
fuck dat nigga bitch
you ma bitch bitch
plastic dick love
wild wild west love
drop rock get cock love
hiv love
std love
suck dog dick love
bitch Rottweiler love
better get me a Rottweiler up in here
fuck a nigga dick
no rap no rhyme
crack rock talk square nigga talk
restaurant dinner bitch no eat
text message at $100.00 dinner
no talk
date wonder what up
I'm hip hop dude
get wit it
My generation gotta phone fuck
can't eat shit fuck phone
love ma plastic dick phone
no smile grin
$100.00 dinner phone fuck dude
plastic mind
hip hop plastic
plastic rhymes
sleepy time tea raps
where you at where you at
African precious minerals for where you at
low information vibration
no google conscious knowledge
where you at
pussy and dick songs
kill pussy and dick love
plastic
shower curtain plastic
sofa loveseat plastic
plastic conversation
Pseudo conscious Kemet
5%
Moorish Science
Islam Supper Sunni
pay my phone bill daddy
Want some pussy
Pay phone bill
$700.00 phone
where you at
plastic phone
Plastic mind
What Amiri Baraka say,
“Where the soul’s print should be there is
Only a cellulose pouch of disgusting habits!”
plastic love
after nut then what
no look no talk
darkness love
don't wanna see you
look in eyes
silence
climax wait
gotta call wait
hold nut please
answer phone
baby daddy call
I love you Dante
oh, baby baby
wait baby daddy
Dante make me cum
juices flow
Niagara Falls cum
Dante Dante Dante
Baby Daddy gotta go gotta go
text me BD
Next night
Dante no show
Plastic sex night
oil based love
petrochemical love
pharmaceutical
heal me doc
red pill
pain kill
no love kill pill
pain alone pill
anxiety stress
woman woman love pill
who is true
real
illusion pill
plastic love
just want appreciation pill
let me overdose true love pill
kiss me here there everywhere true love kiss
no one night stand please
Kiss you here there everywhere
No one night stand please
True love night
No alcohol drug night
Natural freak night please
Natural freak nigga please
Show me give me
Nathan Julia 60 year love pill
George Barbara Bush 70 year love pill
no seven minutes
after nut then what
no talk
no politics
don’t like you nigga
Jaguare Mercedes Benz nigga
Fake phony weak material boy
Material world nigga
gotta good job baby nigga
boss love me
only nigga on top team
hire white asian
tell me train them
take red pill
I am Job faithful to God
African slave ship job ass nigga
Door of no return nigga
No jump ship nigga
Triangular trade nigga
Slaves sugar cane rum trinket ass nigga
Toussaint broke spell ass nigga
Vudun democratic society nigga
Let me dance my drum my god nigga
You dance
We dance
Drum call gods
All nigga gods
Cept jesus god
Fuck jesus god
Servants be obedient to masters god
Nat Turner god good
Dessellines kill mulattoes god good
Dessellines, I told you to prune tree
Not uproot it! Toussaint said
Denmark Vesey god
Gabriel Prosser
Black Thunder god
You my woman
Help me
Free our people woman
Gabriel say
Woman say I’m down Gabriel
Got yo back
Got yo front too Gabriel
Black Thunder
freedom or death
Black thunder
Harriet Tubman
I could’ve freed more slaves
If they had known they were slaves
God of liberation god
Liberty or death god
Cotton field nigga god
Sugar cane nigga god
Rice field nigga god
eternal job nigga god no god
Eternal job nigga god bitch ass nigga god
30 year fake gold watch nigga god
Let boss fuck my wife at xmas party nigga god
Jesus ass bitch nigga god
Dead god nigga jesus god dead
Bleeding cross lynching tree
Strange fruit jesus nigga god dead
Resurrection Nile Valley god
Hapi river god
Osiris Isis Horus
no cotton now
sugar cane
chains
blue trane job
chain gang job for life
doing life
get pennies now
cage bird pennies
for life
13th Amendment Slave
Constitutional
death row slave
No sun moon stars
no human touch love
no wife no woman no cry
Bob Marley say
solitude plastic cell love
plastic fork love
Gang kill love
pay guard cell phone sex love
guard got yacht son need yacht love
call call call
pay me I call
baby come pay me guard say
pay God
all things possible
pay me
Guards run governor love
we say gov. do
what part you don't understand
My man
Revolutionary pay too
plastic move world
work it dog
work it
plastic water
fish
chicken
cows
petrochemical plastic food
you love it eat it like hog to slop
fat
greasy soul food
kill mama food
cut mama legs soul food
eat mama gone
soul food love
Sick love
greasy slave food family love
no talk family dinner
tv loud football white man talk
Niggas run pig ball brain dead broke ass niggas
family
no love talk
family trauma no healing talk
Family predator no talk
Family know he rapist nieces nephews
Family sing Silent Night
plastic tv white man nigga slave athletes
control family love
no politics
family crazy nigga wanna tell truth
muzzled like dog
let's talk money bitches plastic car talk
plastic cell phone talk
Plastic rich nigga tv talk
muzzle crazy nigga black truth talk
Talk Jordan's Sean John
50 cent slave plastic shoes $500.00 talk
But we woke woke woke
plastic shoes mind dead woman blond hair woke
pants off behind man woman child woke
Know latest raps woke
know nothing woke
fake phony pseudo woke
bleaching cream woke
korean hair woke
korean eyes woke
korean nails woke
appreciate you
appreciate you
hotep!
Alafia
Salaam Alaikum
103 Transcend Romanticism and Idealism
Often we dream a dream impossible, and in our starry-eyed romanticism, clouded by our rose colored glasses, we imagine a world of make believe possibilities. Martin Luther King, Jr. had a dream so far-fetched it reached the pathological. He thought integration was the endgame, yet it destroyed the very foundation of our self sufficiency, self determination and most certainly, our economic independence. From our own schools, cafes, restaurants, hotels, and other businesses, we now spend our money with others who will never spend their monies with us. We sit in their restaurants eating food that tastes like shit, just to feel good about ourselves, yes, feeling good while our own restaurants go out of business. Our women don their Sunday best to meet in white restaurants for Sunday Brunch, most often alone or with their sisters, eating and trying to unravel the conundrum of their lives complete with everything except the black man, their natural partner, the only one who can fully understand their centuries of suffering, trauma and unresolved grief.
Of course, our women have achieved educational and economic success and cannot understand why their warrior man has not achieved equity with them and most especially with the white man, the life long enemy of them both. So while they eat Sunday brunch alone, their shining prince is lost and turned out on the way to grandmother's house! Yes, he's doing his best to escape the police, another brother and/or sister that is out to take him to the dungeon, especially if he is a natural born warrior, yes, incorrigible and recalcitrant! Yes, he refuses to submit to the white man, black man or woman. He is an independent thinker and actor and cries freedom while his brother and woman most often are passive and conservative, locked in their survival mode, thus they fear him and the perilous agenda he has in mind that ultimately involves chopping off the head of his oppressor. As Fanon noted, what is the role of the oppressed except to replace the oppressor, to annihilate him once and for all times! Ok, revolution is to achieve state power by any means necessary, yes, liberty or death! But power, Black power in black face, not Miller Lite power, neo-colonial power, fake power, diluted, polluted, pasteurized and homogenized power! Raw uncut power to the people, not for the glory of revolutionaries to out oppress the previous regime (s).
Often times, in their futile attempt to reach the supposed humanity of the oppressor and their children, none of which are willing to give up white privilege without a fierce struggle that includes denial of any addiction to white supremacy, our children languish in dreams of Martin Luther Kingism, that ultimately become a nightmare!
It is most difficult to forgive our children for their romanticism and idealism, for persisting in their dreams of equality and equity, even apology and reparations that would be natural to human beings grounded in the natural world. Our dreamers find it difficult to imagine the 1% is quite satisfied to own as much as the 90%. And even the so called white middle class is satisfied, especially the white liberals who march with Black Lives Matter folks, then purchase the homes of Blacks who are then forced into homelessness, including living in cars and tents. And to trick the Blacks one last time, the neo-colonial whites put Black Lives Matter sings in the windows of their newly purchased homes in case the homeless hoards decide to return to adjudicate the cause of black homelessness. Yet the blacks, in the midst of their dreams becoming full blown nightmares, continue their mantras of I'm Cool, I'm Woke and I'm Kemetic, without any notion of transcending the Kemetic genius of their ancestors. Dr. Nathan Hare says they are lost in the Kingdom of Africana, wherever the fuck that is, most certainly it is not on earth, but another fantastic notion in the so-called Negroes world of make believe. At least President Donald Trump is telling his people about fake news, but we continue with our utter romanticism, idealism and psychosis, yes, a total break with reality.
And so our children want to believe in the goodness of all humans, though they are ultimately forced to realize some humans ain't humans, and this defies, most especially, their pseudo liberal academic training, simply because in the real world there are devils, beasts, snakes and other toxic creatures out to devour us all. Amiri Baraka noted, "We send our children to colleges and universities and they come home hating us and everything we're about, and they don't even know what we're about!" Dr. Wade Nobles noted, "While our young men are in prison, our young women are in academic prisons", sent there by sincere parents who only want their daughters to find mates, yet after achieving academic success with a plethora of PhDs and MBAs, must settle for a nigguh doing 25 to life or a mate outside the group or simply mate with each other. And imagine what this last point says about the future of the black nation. But in their dream state, it is what it is and it ain't no thang. But in any war and especially in America's war against North American Africans, the men must be eliminated or confined while the women are booty, i.e., the spoils of war. With black men eliminated, what choice do women have but to love each other and to configure a male/female partnership in same gender loving relationships. And those brothers unwilling to don the persona of Superman, submit to the she-man although we cannot deny the role of gay brothers in our liberation struggle. But tell me how gay/lesbian culture perpetuates our race! The sad truth is that gay brothers long ago informed me that the gay flag does not represent them, thus no matter what you are and claim to be, we are nigguhs in America and shall remain such no matter what gender and/or family configurations. None of us can escape the ultimate persona of the revolutionary, of Superman and Superwoman! We all share the burden of our ancestors to redeem our chips with the cashier of freedom. As per gender, the male is the first objective in war, again, women are booty and/or spoils of war. All others are simply additional booty. For sure, revolution only becomes possible when all sectors of society join, e.g., workers, artists, intellectuals, women, men, same gender loving people, youth, students, elders, politicians, et al.
But reality is a mother! Reality shatters the romanticism and idealism of even millennial dreams for a PC world. When they discover the pervasiveness of white supremacy, especially when they see its effects on their children, they are suddenly ready to rethink their romantic notions. One of my daughters told her sister she had become an undercover Garveyite, yes, after an education at Yale and Stanford that taught her Garvey was a damn fool! But she discovered white supremacy in the educational system of pseudo-liberal Berkeley, California, forcing her to home school her children, especially after observing the treatment of black boys!
As we enter 2018, I urge you to take off your rose-colored glasses and face reality. Surely, it is now obvious a black president cannot save us, something we should have known from the politics of Africa, the Caribbean and half a century of black elected politicians who are basically sycophants of the Democratic Party. Yes, Donald Trump is the white lash, the natural response to that toxic niggah who defiled the White House, even though it was designed and built by Africans, as was most of America. We should be happy President Trump and his white nationalism will force us, perhaps even by force of whip, to gather the energy to defy the reality of our wretched condition and make that awesome trek up the mountain from the dungeon of Toby to the Upper Room of Kunta Kinte's father's house. Yes, this trek up the mountain must finally and forever be a communal trek that transcends the myth of Sisyphus and all other myths that are not rooted in the abolitionist tradition, that do not end with a total victory of the oppressed over the oppressor. Stay Woke!
--Marvin X
12/29/1
Friday, May 27, 2011
104 Fable of the Rooster and the Hen
There was a farm that had many chickens and roosters. One rooster used to control his many hens with an iron fist and he made the sound of the rooster to let others roosters know not to mess with his hens. He roared and cockadoddledoed early in the morning to signal dawn of the new day. And he cockadoodledoed throughout the day, strutting around the yard with his hens well under control, standing guard when they were laying eggs, especially when he found the door of the big house open and one of his favorites would lay her eggs on the couch in the living room of the big house.
The rooster would not go inside but stand in the doorway so he could watch both ways, inside the house and outside. If the farm lady would not come into the house and chase the hen outside, the hen would stay until she laid her egg, then she and the rooster would go down the steps and back into the yard, joining the other roosters, hens and baby chicks.
There were other fowl on the farm too: turkeys, ducks, guineas, peacocks, doves, and pigeons.
One day, after the farm lady got some special feed from the store and tried a little out on the rooster, he no longer could make the sound of the rooster. The other fowl were surprised when they heard rooster sounding like a hen and no longer making the sound of the mighty rooster. They all laughed at the rooster and thought he had gone crazy. What the hell is wrong with you, rooster, they asked. They figured maybe the farm lady had given him some special food to make him sound different. They were happy she didn't give them the feed she gave the poor rooster, who looked so pitiful and sounded even worse.
They knew something had changed him and he started not only sounding like a hen but acting like one as well. He made every attempt to act like he was laying eggs, although he wasn't able to lay any, still he put on a show for everyone on the farm who gathered around to see him play the role of a hen. Other rooster's would even stand guard while he pretended to lay eggs, though he couldn't, it was just an act and they went along with it just to please him.
He no longer strutted about like a rooster but like a hen. They called him a freak and made fun of him until he couldn't take it anymore and asked the farm lady to give him some better food so he could sound and act like a rooster again.
She honored his request, telling him she was trying out some new feed and didn't think it would completely alter his behavior, she told him she was sorry, and she would never give him that feed and special water again. The feed store had told her to try it out, but she would not bring anymore to the farm. The rooster was happy to return to his true self and make the sound of a rooster. The hens gathered around him again and the other fowl danced they were so happy to see he was a rooster again and not a hen.
--Marvin X
3/5/10
105 Love Letter to Gay and Lesbian Youth
A Look Inside Baraka's The Toilet
By Marvin X
By definition a classic is a work that withstands the test of time, fad, beyond the ephemeral. A classic theme deconstructs one or more of the eternal concerns of humanity—love, hate, life and death, or the problems of life that never seem to get solved even when the solution is quite apparent. The simple solution to hate is love, so simple we must revisit the question and solution from time to time.
Almost forty-five years ago, Amiri Baraka examined the themes of racism and homophobia in his one-act play The Toilet. The set is a high school men’s room, wherein he gathers a group of young men to decipher the meaning of love and hate. Mostly black, the young men appear to be at an urban manhood training rite. We see a myriad of personalities expressing themselves in the rhythm and rhymes of the time—there are no pants sagging, no grills in teeth, but they are there seeking to discover their manhood, racial and sexual identity.
The tragedy of that time and this time is that their search for manhood and sexual identity is unorganized and haphazard, thus then and now young men must grapple with self discovery in isolated groups without mentor, elder or guide. No adult appears in the Toilet to give words of wisdom; thus the young men are adrift in their ignorance, seeking to find themselves in the midst of darkness. How ironic the setting is a high school where we assume learning is taking place, and yet learning occurs not in the classroom but the toilet. The toilet becomes the bush in African or primitive tradition, for there is terror, violence to bring transformation from hatred to love and interracial understanding.
A white boy writes a love letter to a black boy and the drama involves the resolution of this event. The white boy has crossed the racial line into the black brotherhood and suffers violence as a result—he his beaten into a pulp, bloody as a beet, half-dead when brought into the Toilet.
Gang violence is a natural happening in urban culture, senseless violence to express manhood; even sexual violence is a natural part of this oppressed society. And so the black boy is finally confronted by the white boy who loves him and the brother is physically overcome by the white boy to the chagrin of the black brotherhood. The white boy is again attacked by the toilet gang and all depart, including another white boy who had come to the defense of his white brother.
The Toilet ends with the black boy returning to embrace the white boy. Lights down.
What was Baraka trying to tell us forty-five years ago and what relevance has his message now? Since then gays and lesbians have come out of the closet, although the passage of California’s Proposition 8 denies them the right of marriage, and the gays are miffed at Blacks for supporting the proposition, although the president of the state NAACP in her role as a lobbyist opposed the bill, along with many black newspapers and several ministers who were probably paid to do so. Apparently a majority of blacks do not equate gay rights with civil rights. Are sexual rights human rights?
The question Baraka raised had to do with transcending hatred in favor of love. Proposition 8 denied gays and lesbians the right to codify their love in marriage.
Blacks are known to be sexually conservative, although they now have many children on the streets embracing the gay/lesbian lifestyle. Blacks are thus hypocritical and drowning in denial, in similar fashion to the black brothers in The Toilet who refused to consider that one of their own might have crossed the line, not only racially but sexually as well.
On my recent visit to New York to see Woody King’s production of my play (with Ed Bullins) Salaam, Huey Newton, Salaam, Baraka’s The Toilet and Hugh Fletcher’s Amarie, I was accompanied by two lesbian assistants. Of course, being a dirty old man, I tried to get at them. (See my poem “Why I Love Lesbians.”) And they were highly upset at my offensive language: something they should have known I am known for by those who know me. Although I imagined them to be young women, with whom I could talk adult talk, they were suffering arrested development, in search of their sexual identity, much like the brothers in The Toilet.
Nevertheless, I wanted them to spend some time with Amina Baraka who is still in grief over the lost of her daughter Shani and her lover Rayshan to homicide. I thought conversing with the young ladies, 19 and 25, would help Amina heal from the horror of losing her only daughter by Baraka. She did meet the young ladies at the theatre and immediately saw the physical similarity between one girl and her daughter, Shani. “I knew you would see that,” I told Amina. The girl, Raushanah, like Shani, had been a point guard as well. We agreed to come to Newark to spend time with Amina, but after my verbal insults, the girls declined to make the trip, even though we reconciled our issues as best we could.
I made the trip to Newark alone to hang out with the Barakas, who had me bar hopping after a wonderful dinner at the Spanish restaurant across from city hall. One of the bars we visited is owned by former mayor Sharp James, now doing prison time for corruption.
I hadn’t planned to spend the night but Amina had other plans, so she made room for me in the space they have preserved for Shani. On my last visit, she had told me that I was the first person to spend the night in Shani's room, filled with her artifacts, several basketball size trophies, numerous awards and proclamations to her athletic prowess and mentorship.
After the last bar, we headed home. Tired, I said goodnight to the Barakas and went upstairs to my room or rather, Shani’s room. I shut the door and looking around at Shani's archives, something told me to say a prayer, so I did.
I got up the next morning early, way too early to disturb the Barakas, so I surveyed the room, and seeing the trophies were dusty, wiped them. I just happened to have a poem in my back pocket “When Thy Lover Has Gone to Eternity.” I placed it between the trophies as an offering. I said another prayer before departing. And then I heard Shani speaking, saying, “No, no, no, no to hate, no, no, no, no.” She said, “Yes, yes to love, yes, yes, yes, yes.”
I shut the door and made my way downstairs, passing the sleeping Barakas and out into the cold Newark morning. At South Tenth and Clinton Streets I hailed a taxi, telling him to take me to John’s Place, my favorite breakfast spot in Newark. I ordered Whiting, grits and eggs, with biscuits that melted in my mouth. After breakfast, I walked to the bus stop for the ride to Penn Station and the train back across the river to New York. As I stood waiting for the bus, Shani spoke again in the winter wind, “No, no, no, no to hate. Yes, yes, yes to love.”
Shall we not love our gay children, the many young men and women who have chosen the gay lifestyle for whatever reason: we can say they were born that way, or have an identity crisis from feminine or matrifocal socialization (lack of manhood rites or womanhood rites), or there was sexual assault by a gay or lesbian relative, or incest by father, uncle, brother, cousin who turned the girl against all men. We can catalogue all the possibilities yet not get to the end of the road on this matter: our gay children need help!
They need love and support as they go through their daily round. We cannot simply look at them and reduce them to social rejects, pariahs we must shun at all costs as if they are not natural but some kind of mutants from Mars.
In short, they need our help with their growing pains. All children need love, recognition and acceptance. Do you think the gay children are not suffering the normal white supremacy virus of parental abandonment, abuse and neglect? Even more so, our gay young men are suffering the highest rate of HIV infection. What shall we do—surely we can reach out and touch these young men on a suicide path—at the very least, we can educate them about the dangers of their unsafe sexual behavior.
Our lesbian children need our love and acceptance as well. Maybe some of them will return to the straight life (as if that’s anything to brag about until we evolve our spiritual consciousness from the patriarchal mentality of domination.)
Again, no matter the cause of the explosion of the gay and lesbian lifestyle, it is a reality we need to deal with. Those who want to be straight should be guided, others who want to be accepted as gay or lesbian should be shown unconditional love as well.
It is wrong for anyone to hate another human being, and especially to hate a child. So let us put on the armor of God and exercise Supreme Wisdom. Either we are working with Divine power or we are on the animal plane, from which our actions are devoid of spiritual consciousness
The Toilet is a state of mind—toxic and transfixed. It must be flushed clean with pure water. There is a moment in the play when a brother goes down the row of urinals flushing each one and laughing with joy as the water flows loudly like a river. Let us flush ourselves with the royal flush of all the urine and defecation in our lives, in our minds that have a strangle hold on the eternity of love, for love is all there is that is precious and real, radical and revolutionary, love, the meaning of the morning, the essence of the night, the why we rise to try again the daily round, to suffer the pain and joy—only love makes the day possible and the night bearable.
In conclusion, moral propositions become just that and nothing more, a momentary thing, until the destruction comes, then we see some things are beyond mere propositions, thoughts, a consensus of the moral or the immoral, for who is moral today, who is immoral? Who are the good guys, bad guys? Who is without sin? You are against gays and lesbians, yet you are a child molester! You are against gays and lesbians, yet you are a wife beater, a murderer, a dope dealer, a wicked teacher, a corrupt banker. Who has the high moral ground? Is it he who does the most good—in the hood? Shall he or she determine the moral code, or is this a free for all, do yo thing, I do my thing—in the Arabic: lakum dinu kum waliyadin (to you your way and to me mine, Al Qur’an).
Unless there is a consensus, who is to say what is right or wrong? We must come to a consensus on the new morality, no matter what ancient mythologies have taught us. In Divine consciousness surely we can find the Way of Love in all matters. Let us search the ancient holy books, texts, inscriptions, for the sure path, since there is doubt persisting into the night. What do the holy books say?
Shall we be swayed by illusions of any kind, spirituality or physicality, mentality or sexuality? If we reinstituted manhood and womanhood rites of passage, we might go a long way toward helping our children cross the threshold of sexual identity and toward spiritual maturation as divine beings in human form. Sexuality and other illusions become secondary to the primary objective of reaching spiritual maturity, following our true bliss, as Joseph Campbell taught us.
106 Gender Studies and Academy of da Corner
The Arabic word nisa has two meanings depending on syllable stress. One meaning is woman, another meaning is to forget. Long ago, Warith Din Muhammad gave a lecture on how men forget women. More recently, Amina Baraka exhorted me and her husband, Amiri, not to forget women, to respect them always, especially for their contribution to our liberation struggle: "Remember the women of history, remember Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Ida B. Wells, remember Fannie Lou Hamer, Rosa Parks, Queen Mother Moore, remember Ella Collins," Amina cried.
Academy of da Corner must address problems in male/female relations since such problems directly impact healthy family and community development. Mrs. Baraka was addressing two poets, both having the artistic sensibility and insensitivity to become emotionally detached from women, children and men in our quest for creativity, thinking a poem is more important than the human being. (Of course Amiri Baraka is qualified to speak for himself, but since I know him, I'm taking the liberty to place him in the boat with me, other poets and artists in general.)
If men of intelligence can be so detached, imagine the behavior of men with lesser intelligence. Perhaps this is why the divorce courts and the anger management programs are full. Men just don't get it and some have no intention to "get it." It will take generations before the patriarchal mentality subsides, if then, although great strides have been made in male/female equality. Now we are in danger of women getting revenge after coming into power situations. They want to oppress. Go before a female judge with a domestic violence case!
But the socialization of males and females must be examined to explore better, healthier methods of interpersonal relations. How can women who love talking endlessly, communicate with men who will go silent when approached on critical matters? "Do you hear me, man," the woman says, "Then why don't you say something?" In the TS Eliot poem the women say, "That is not what I meant, that is not what I meant at all. . . ."
Male education must involve manhood rites that allow them to explore male psychology and female psychology, and the same for women. So often we come together not knowing a damn thing about each other, until it is too late, two or three children later, several ass whippings later.
Men must learn to understand and treat females as equal but different human beings. The idea is not to make men more feminine, but to understand their natural selves and gain a more precise understanding of the opposite sex. Mythologically speaking, understand the function of the sky god and the earth mother goddess. One is the protector, one the nurturer. Today the situation is such that the woman needs protection from the protector!
And the man feels his nurturer is somehow his enemy, the very person he sleeps with he is terrified of, and often the woman feels the same. What kind of horror story is this?
Moving from myth to nature, roosters will not become hens, bulls will not become cows, so stop trying to reverse nature, although it is urgent that we understand the nature of human psychology, understand different functions of each sex, responsibilities, desires, drives and dreams. Often men are indeed lost in the stars, while women are usually forced to stay grounded in reality. As Joseph Campbell explains, men must be taught they are approaching manhood. Women know they are approaching womanhood at the first cycle—they can see, feel, touch, smell womanhood, but men need a ritual: they must come out of the sky and go into the bush to be terrified into the reality of manhood.
Men must at least listen to the dreams of women, even if we reject their dreams, and women must do the same—ultimately a compromise can and must be found. It shall never be again, "Your way or no way," although men will attempt to maintain male privilege until the sky falls—look up, brother, the sky is falling!
And women, in their new found aggression and power positions, will push their agenda at every turn, forcing men to react violently, "Bitch, I don't want to hear nothing you got to say. Shut the fuck up." But she's not going to shut up and she ain't going away—you may leave her for another woman but strangely it will be the same woman with another name. A woman is a woman is a woman is a woman, stupid!
So before there can be unity, there must be understanding. The main thing is not to oppress each other, especially since we're both freshly out of slavery. Men often feel the double-edged sword of oppression from the black woman and the white man. And women feel the same sword blade from the white man and the black man. If we, males and females, would recognize we're not enemies but friends and lovers, sailing in the same love boat, we'll be at least halfway free!
When women are at the top of their game, they have the unique ability to get anything they want from men, sometimes with the glance of an eye, a stride, a smile, the tone of her voice can totally disarm a man. Call it feminine charm or whatever, but women have been successful throughout the ages. With her newfound power, do not forget her ancient secrets that worked for thousands of years, giving her the ability to be a helpmate to great men and tearing down great men when in rage and frustration.
Consider the Children
These twisted male/female relationships have profound implications for the children. When the male departs from the jungle to the forest, the child, especially the male child, is soon out of control, usually by age 15. He is in absolute rebellion against his mother's agenda, although her agenda is often bisexual because she is forced to don the persona of the female/male. The young man's hatred is directed at the female side of the mask, although he harbors a distinct hatred for his missing father as well. So consider his rage, just as his hormones are kicking in. Again, the need for manhood training. But even with females, there is a need and desire for father's love that she will search for in fatherless young men or dirty old men!
Likewise, with young males, the hatred is transferred to girlfriends whom they verbally and physically abuse. This hatred is expressed in the poetic language of rap songs. Healing such shattered young lives is the task of mental health specialists such as Dr. Nathan Hare's Black Reconstruction mental health group sessions that he is calling to be established across America. In the interim, hip hop youth use poetry, sometimes unconsciously, for peer counseling, and this is all good. The University of Poetry must address such stress and strains in the personality of males and females, urging them to use poetry as a healing tool in their lives, let poetry be a bridge for reconciliation rather than a vehicle to only express pain and rage between the sexes and the generations.
Poetically Gay
If we were against gay and lesbian poets, there would be little poetry to read, since the arts seem to be the home of many gay people. Imagine a world without Langston Hughes or James Baldwin, or Audre Lorde and June Jordan. So my attitude is what does sex have to do with being a poet—nothing! A poet must understand human sexuality in general. A poet stuck on being gay is not a poet, for what happens when he or she must put on the persona of a man or woman, or a tree for that matter. A poet must transcend all sexuality in order to understand the universal human spirit that is, yes, beyond a particular sexual orientation. Gays and lesbians might sometimes have a more sensitive spirit, but every poet, whether gay or straight, must have a sensitive spirit.
Did Baldwin write as a gay or as a writer of the human condition? After my 1968 interview with him, I remarked to Ed Bullins, “He talked like a man.” Ed said, “He damn sho did.” Alas, Baldwin wrote the script for Spike Lee’s film Malcolm X. If he had been trapped in his gayness, how could he have written a script about a hero who symbolized black manhood? When people questioned whether he was qualified to write the script because of his gayness, Baldwin said, “Hey, I pay my rent, I write what I want to write.”
In the video version of my play One Day In The Life, a gay actor portrays my son. If he had not transcended his gayness, he wouldn’t have been in my play. So he was in my play because he was a great actor. At the audition for my play in New York, a gay brother tried out for the part but couldn’t transcend his sexuality. My daughter was casting director, and when I told her to let the guy read the part again, she said, “No, Daddy, no. Let me handle this. He got to go!”
So we have no time to condemn people for their sexual orientation. We might thereby condemn the goose laying the golden egg. We could use another Baldwin or Langston right about now to help free us from this precipice.
But I say to those who passed legislation permitting sex between consenting adults, and in California one of them was then Assemblyman Willie L. Brown, if gays can be with gays and lesbians with lesbians, then men who love prostitutes should be allowed to be with their sex workers in peace, not sneaking around in the alley like a broke dick dog, arrested and cars seized. Yes, legalize prostitution. Lakum dinu kum waliya din: to you your way and to me mine.
107 All the real niggas died
Left me here alone
Naked on battlefield
They didn't tell me
This day would come
You shall walk alone
The battlefield
They told me Marvin
You fought battles you didn't need to fight
I did want to be a boxer
I was a gang fighter
Drunk teenage fighter
Fought for the Joy
What else to do in da hood
Fight fuck fight
Seems like the short lived narrative of my marriage life and totality of love life
No matter
My friends are gone
Lovers gone
Is only the grave before me
No matter
You fought the good fight
Raised high the red black and green.
Sunday, February 17
108 Parable of the man who didn't want to leave prison
"Sir, your time is up and you must leave prison now, without delay!" "Please, the man cried, "I don't want to leave prison, my family is here, I have no family outside these walls. There is nothing for me outside. Even my friends who've passed on are over there in the prison cemetery."
"Sir, for the last time, pack your belongings and depart now. Your presence is not wanted. You cause disturbance even when in solitary confinement. Your words get out to the others in the general population so we want you to go now. What part don't you understand?"
"What if I bust you upside the head, would you return me to my cell?"
"No, sir, by no means. We want you outta here now. Let's go! Pack your shit, roll it up!"
"I'm not going nowhere!"
"Yes you are. Security, come git dis nigger outta here. I'm the warden but if dis nigger don't leave I'm leavin'."
So the man who didn't want to leave prison departed. He wanted to stay but the authorities demanded he depart. They told him they knew who he was and did not want him infecting the prison population with his radical ideas. Actually, the guards threw him out the prison gates, punching him in the ribs with their nightsticks, making him break down into tears, but once they had him outside the prison gates they slammed the gates shut in relief he was gone, no matter where.
2/19/19
109 Make Black Great Again
Cover art by BAM Master Ben Caldwell
make black great again
beyond pyramids king tut
akhenaten's praise hymn
aboriginal monotheism
imperialism religion
negative confession
moses took ten
said thou shall not kill
then killed egyptian
kemit no mystery to us
resurrection theology
osiris isis horus seth
origin of jesus
sixteen crucified saviors
negro seventeen
strange fruit savior
crucified in the now
Travon Tamir Rice Sandra Bland
Oscar Grant Emmett Till Melvin Black
Nia Wilson Denzil Dowell
Lil' Bobby Hutton
Fred Hampton
many thousands gone
crucified on cross lynching tree
jesus in the now
make black great again
primordial hapi river travelers dwellers
beyond time
Sun Ra said
we other side of time
history his time
mystery our story
infinity
make black great again
simple task teach children
no matter condition yesterday now
is it difficult faya ancestor amiri baraka say
wanna pick cotton can't see ta can't see
git dat hunid pounds nigger 'fore I pull dis trigger
make black great again
seize tomorrow today
Even in his wretchedness Eldridge demanded me
do all things first class except nothing less
we da best
no shame stand demand
Jimmy Baldwin told me
ain't nothin' else happen here but you
make black great again
no weak kneegrows
shuffle dance imitation jim crow
no inclusion multi-cultural bottom rail
ancestors say bottom rail top
make black great again
no second class
we better'n white man
we the greatest
didn't Muhammad Ali say
equality with devil
what shit is this
chicken shit dog shit cow dung
stretch legs to sun leap run beyond time
no clocks work here no Apple watch
just be see
great black self
didn't michael j say man in mirror
remember da time
remember Sunny Blunt say beyond time
no survival we thrival of the greatest
no fluke
nina put spell on you
better ax somebody
dirty south say
mississippi goddam nina say
strange fruit billie say
make black great again
nothing can defeat you but you
lingering behind the vail
you not equal to nothing
master of all
no equality with evil
what madness is this
there is no test just be
and it is
you the man/woman and beyond
wave your majic wand
earth becomes dust
in black gods we trust.
--Marvin X
2/6/19
110 In Da Game
Now JC say love da brotherhood
But sisterhood show love
Maa'at
Sister give justice
Nigga tight
Won't treat brother right
Back in da day
We used ta say
Give me da bitch package
Nigga bless bitch
Won't bless brother
Sister give love
No need tell sister
Sis know love
Give love
Can't help it
Fuck what JC say
Love sisterhood
Even fluffy girls
Fluffy girls love too
I love chicken wings
But breasts thighs love too
No matter
No disrespect but
Give me da bitch package any day
Maa'at justice
Sister love in da game
Brother give sister love
Brother give sis bitch package
You know
Pussy possibilities
Discrimination I say
Don't dog brother brother
Cause he ain't got pussy
Show brother love maa'at
Justice
Nobody wants more than justice
Nobody wants less
Yes
Give me the bitch package too
Even if I ain't no bitch
Excuse the language.
Thanks
Marvin X
2/6/19
111 Everything is Wrong
Can't do nothing right
No woman no wife
No ho'
No Porno
Wow
Old man needs too
Did you ask
in your ageism
So occupied sexual identity
Am I pussy dick what
Did father uncles brothers
Take Virginity
Aunties
Cousin girl
After brother sister boyfriend love
Everything is wrong
Where is love
You don't love me
Love what I got.
Don't even know me
Don't have a clue
Players say
How you start out
How you end up
Everything is wrong
Started out wrong
Hard to make wrong right
What pimps players say
You can be replaced
Bitch!
God told Negro same
You can be replaced
Another do my will.
--MARVIN X
112 Men Should Not Be Allowed to Vote on Women’s Issues
I have written that after a man deposits his seed into a woman, he has nullified his right to control the woman's body, simply because it is the woman's body, not his. If a man is against abortion, he should make this clear to the woman. And she should make clear to him she is pro abortion. Maybe they should sign an agreement that she has the human right to her body and the fruit thereof. In short, the man should not have sex with a woman who is pro abortion. And men should stay out of women's affairs.
Men have enough to do handling male matters such as manhood training, including understanding what I said above. Go find your abandoned sons and nephews: tell them to pull their pants up! See my Mythology of Pussy and Dick, Black Bird Press, 2009.
--MARVIN X
7/10/18
113 Rocky Poem
Black goddess of Oaktown
Yes I miss you much
And there you were
Standing apart the crowd
Walking in your royal stride
The wind ushering you my way
Oh, Rocky
Why do you move my heart with your smile
Why do you humble me with your
Quiet soul
Your sweet intelligence
Overpowering beauty of your blackness
We must make time for each other
No matter the others in our lives
The universe calls us together
How long can we ignore the voice of God?
Surely we can steal away for a walk
Around the lake
Or the woods and talk among the ancient trees
There is so much I want to share with you
Only because I know you have the mind to listen and act
when the voice of wisdom whispers in your ear.
Come to me Rocky
You know I have loved you
Since the day I saw you
Walking in the wind
As if the gods sent you my way
You know I have never been the same.
--MARVIN X
6/21/18
•
•
113 Of Grandparents, Parents and Children
Gibran taught us children come through us but they are not us, we are the bow, they are the arrow. As much as we love our grandchildren, they belong to their mothers and fathers who have their visions for them, so we must ultimately step back and let their parents raise them, no matter how much we love them and want to give them our vision.
So I say to myself and other grandparents, let the parents raise them no matter how much you want to instill your vision, you had your chance with your children, now it is your children's turn to raise their children as they see fit. If and when they call upon you, be ready to serve and don't overwhelm your children with your dogmatic ideas of child raising notions infused with ideological and spiritual dogmatism.
Your children are your children and their children are their children. If your children never desire you to see their children, so it is. You had your chance with your children, your grandchildren are just a last chance to scoop your poop and join the ancestors with a clean slate or ma'at, the balance of right and wrong, good and evil. Don't push the issue, after all, you shall be gone soon and so shall your children, then it will your grandchildren's turn to see if they can walk the straight path!
--marvin x/el muhajir
Comments on Grandparents, Parents and Children
Very true and insightful, Marvin.Thanks.
--Dr.Fritz Pointer
Good teachings, Baba Marvin. But grandparents teachings permeate and last an entire lifetime. The unconditional quality of their love is needed to offset the stress of their parents. I think if we were good parents, our children want our input- to a point, as you were outlining.
--Dr. Kweli Tutashinda
Let not our regrets and frets from our past cast a shadow on the possible lessons that our wisdom and the extra time we have for support and babysitting loved ones.However, one should not be overbearing sharing our seeds of knowledge. Let the little ones teach us what we need to learn, In time the tables will turn given the blessing of aging. Let us not squirm from hearing our neglects, overdue frets and debts unpaid.
--Monsa S. Nitoto
Marvin,
I’ve just read this. Fritz Pointer is right, as usual. It’s an important issue.I had an entire chapter in my Ph.D dissertation on a black boy I treated who was caught in the conflict between mother and grandmother (“ everybody’s mother”), though a lot of the conflict comes from the birth mother who had dumped the kids temporarily on the grandmother then got halfway on her feet and wanted them back; but the grandmother had bonded with the children by then, plus she and the mother remained attached to the child dependency check. In other words, both felt, let me have the check and you can have the kids. So it works both ways. But it’s a problem that originates with the parents though driven by social forces and the righteous feeling on the part of the grandmother that she hasn’t done a perfect job of raising the mother and would like to try her hand on her grandchild if not rearising the mother.. But this complex and variegated issue you point to is just one of the projects in black social engineering neglected and lost in the winds of tough talk of black family strengths after the black intellectuals turned away from combat with oppression after the Sixties to patching up black identity and self-esteem image-making largely through denying the very pathology our oppression had wrought.
--Dr. Nathan Hare
11/1/17
114 Toward the language of love
Language unifies a people, when they speak a common language, when there is a consensus on word definitions, an agreement on what terms are sacred and what words are profane and obscene.
Chaos comes into a culture when these is no longer a consensus on language, or what we call a psycholinguistic crisis, for words define reality. Words are the vehicle we use to express our interpretation of reality. When the words lose a once agreed upon meaning, it is as though the earth shifts beneath our feet, for we are no longer able to communicate with each other. We then suffer a mental paralysis, a breakdown of the psyche because we are talking loud but saying nothing.
The words thus lose their meaning for there is no agreement. If the culture in its normal state is communal but suddenly the focus shifts to the supremacy of the individual, then we have a problem. We cannot unite for freedom when there is no agreed definition of freedom. For you, freedom is a job. For her, freedom is land and economic independence. For him, freedom is being with same gender loving people, and for her it is the same. Nothing else matters. So what items can we agree upon that defines freedom? And are we going around the corner together or do we have a divisive situation that shall lead us nowhere except to tread water in a pitiful state until we drown, since we refuse to help each other push our agenda items because we don't agree.
We started out on freedom but got diverted into things not communal but individual. Or the language was polluted by class division. The bourgeoisie culture police attempted to define the terms of reality. We wonder by what right do they assume the gate keeper role. Perhaps by being placed into leadership by the oppressor.
In the 1960s, we revolted against the language of the colonial elite, the leadership of the liberation movement shifted because a new consensus on language came into vogue, the language of black power that transcended civil rights to human rights, that shifted from integration to liberation and yes, sometimes, separation. The old language was suddenly obsolete. The term Negro was cast into the dustbin of history. The Negro psycholinguistics shifted from passivity and non violence to revolution.
The Black Arts Movement helped to cause the paradigm shift in terms of language. We revolted from the bourgeoisie socalled proper speech. In our plays, poems, essays, songs, we broke free of the conservative language. We used such terms as motherfucker, yes, bitch, devil, cracker, peckerwoood, and other terms to express our rejection of the American language in favor our our Mother tongue, the raw ghetto language so despised by our culture police, for they were rejected as well. Of course we went to the extreme when we said anyone over thirty should be killed (Bobby Seale). But the expression in grass roots language advanced the freedom mentality in our people. We suddenly realized we can say what we want, we're truly free to do so.
Of course there was reaction, from the oppressor and the colonial elite. The police attempted to ban our plays, to invade our performances, to arrest us if we showed up to perform. The bourgeoisie refused to support us with their money. All this was actually good because it inspired us to continue doing our thing, realizing we were truly independent, no longer slaves to anyone.
We were not able to return to our native language as Ngugi wa Thiango has called upon African writers to do, for we have no idea what it is, though we attempted to learn Swahili, Arabic and Yoruba. And the little we learned helped advance our black consciousness and heal our psycholinguistic crisis. Yes, these languages unified some of us. We held classes in the hood with grass roots people who wanted to transcend the English or American language we called the slave master's language, so how can we ever break free speaking this devil language. This is the language of the kidnapper, the rapist, the man and woman who lynched us, who stole our very identity and replace it with his notion of our very being. Thus, it is he and his language that is profane and obscene, and must be rejected, for it is not the language of love, it is the language of violence and madness.
We thus call for silence as the language of love, since our psycholinguistic crisis is so great it is the cause of physical, emotional and verbal violence with our mates. Almost any word we say is cause for argument. And it is the same when we gather at conferences and gatherings. We must spend an inordinate amount of time debating terms, defining what we mean by freedom, liberation, reparations, gender identity. Yes, what is a woman, what is a man. Today "black brothers" is a gay term. How did "black brother" shift from revolutionary black men to gay men? Of course language is fluid and undergoing constant change. And those with power attempt to define the terms. How else did we come upon this English/American language? It was a violent act, a long process of domination and oppression. Toby was physically abused until he renounced his holy name Kunta Kinte. Muhammad Ali reversed the process, not only by renaming himself but forcing his opponent to call out his name in the ring. Ali chanted, "What's my name, what's my name?" as he beat down his opponent, but he was calling for more than name recognition but for the recognition of his being as a free black man, the member of the Nation of Islam, a transcendence of his American slave identity.
And yet today we have a reaction by the culture police such as Bill Crosby and others who would have us claim our American identity and stop naming our children African and/or Muslim names. He doesn't tell Jose to call himself Joe. He doesn't tell the Chinese who get rich in the hood selling us their food but speaking no English/American to go learn English/American.
He don't tell the Arabs who get rich selling us swine and wine in the name of Allah, to stop speaking Arabic in the hood and speak English/America.
Clearly, Bill Crosby suffers a psycholinguistic crisis of major proportion. And he is not alone. It is again for this reason that I call for the language of silence as the language of love, until we can indeed arrive at a new consensus. The Million Man March brothers took a vow to never use the term bitch. But in the hood bitch is clearly a trans-gender term, for males are called bitches these days, especially when they come incorrect in the dope culture. The dope boys will address an adult male dope fiend as punk bitch. "Punk bitch you better take this dope and get the fuck up otter here wit da quickness 'fore I smoke yo ass."
It's possible the language shifted when adults began buying dope from children, especially during the Crack era, reversing the natural order of adults serving children, thus children lost all respect for their elders and this aspect of the psycholinguistic crisis resulted. It was being addressed with this language when I was a dope fiend that made me want to recover so that I would no longer be so verbally debased by children who had every right to talk to me in this manner because I was, as a dope fiend, in the persona of a punk bitch!
There shall be no language of love until we stop behaving like a nigguh or punk bitch. Don't tell me to stop saying motherfucker while you are in bed with your mother, son, daughter. Who is the real motherfucker up in here, me or you? I'm saying it but you doing it!
Language confusion exists when there are contradictions in behavior, especially adult behavior that the children observe. And so when we hear them on the street, at school, in the clubs, in their raps, we must ask ourselves where they got this language from, and more importantly, what is the meaning of it. They are simply trying to do as we did, give order to reality by way of language. Is it better to be silent, to say nothing since the entire language is vile, polluted and corrupted. Let us not go to an examination of the political language, double speak, evasiveness,
subterfuge. See George Orwell's Politics and the English Language. Listen to the politicians lie and attempt to deceive the world with words, yes, talking loud but saying nothing. Vote for me, I'll set you free. Change we can believe in. Change is gonna come. A chicken in every pot!
Yes, silence, there are possibilities for unity if, we just be quiet. To speak is to fail the tone test, for anything we say is suspect, for we don't trust the language, the words, and most of all, we are not truthful in our expressions, in short, we have become liars too, in harmony with the ruling class and the culture police or those colonial elite gate keepers in league with the blood suckers of the poor.
Some day we shall arrive at the language of love, where we say what we mean and mean what we say, where we understand the tone test and can pass it, with the police, with a brother and with a sister, especially our mate who was going to make love with us until we said the wrong thing, even though we didn't intend to do so, something just slipped out carelessly, but we blew it. Baby's mood changed because we said the wrong word, or she took it the wrong way.
Let us strive to reach a consensus on this pitiful bastard language we speak, for these words are killing us, literally. Better to speak as little as possible until we can transcend to a language that unifies us and allows us to love each other unconditionally.
--Marvin X
12/13/10
115 Parable of a square bitch
Parable of a Square Bitch
She was a square bitch, sophisticated Spelman bitch, til Dante turned her out, made her a stripper, climbing up and down poles like a monkey.She stripped til her mama and daddy came and got her and took her home for a rest. But she soon returned to college and Dante turned her out again, this time at the dope house, stripping, sucking and fucking the brothers and sisters in the dope house. Strung out so tough she rented out to the dope man the BMW her daddy bought for her when she first got to college. She waited outside the dope house all weekend til the dope man returned her car. Square bitch. Know everything dumb ass bitch.
Took two courses in Black Studies and claimed she knew all of African history, knew who she was and nobody could tell her shit. She was an educated black woman. But when she got a chance to travel abroad, she went to Europe rather than Africa. Said she wasn't ready for Africa. Nor was she interested in that Black Lives Matter bullshit, all lives mattered to her, specially when she met a hipster named Brando. Brando taught her color doesn't matter, so she believed him, until they got drunk one night and he called her his nigger bitch. The real nigguh came out of her and she slapped him, called him a low life peckerwood white trash bastard. When neighbors heard the noise and called the police, they came and saw Brando had bruises on his face, so they took her black ass to jail. Her mama and daddy sent money to bail her out.
She left Brando and slipped back into the hood looking for Dante. Dante told her, "I don't want yo punk ass, bitch. Go back to that peckerwood motherfucker, you funky ho!" She begged Dante, "Please, please, Dante, I just wanna be black again, please take me back, I'll do anything." "Ok, bitch, get me a choosin fee and hurry up. You know what to do." Miss Square bitch got on the phone to some tricks so she could get Dante's choosin fee. She got it together and presented it to Dante. He said, "Ok, bitch, don't give me no motherfuckin trouble. Don't you ever again tell me about some motherfuckin boundaries. You do whatever the fuck I tell you quick and in a hurry, you hear me, bitch?" "Yes, Dante."
She moved in with Dante and his other ho's and they were all happy together for a time.
7/31/15
116
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2009
116 Mythology of Pussy, A Rites of Passage for Men and Women
Pussy is a many splendid thing. Pussy power has been known to help construct civilizations and destroy them. Wars have been fought over pussy. And the most powerful men in the world have been brought low behind pussy. What a powerful thing it is, totally confounding men time after time, season after season, century after century. The more men learn about pussy, the more they forget—or shall we say, they got it (theory) but didn’t get it (the practice).It would probably be proper to first discuss the mythology of dick before discussing the mythology of pussy, but for dramatic effect we will continue our discussion of pussy, for it is common sense that what is good for the goose is good for the gander. And furthermore, there is more oppression in the world caused by men’s attitude toward pussy than toward their dick, although the patriarchal society gives dominance to the dick, but in the male’s headlong rush to enter the pussy, he becomes blind to his own sexuality and consumed by the need to plunge his organ inside the vagina. In his blindness and his resulting sexual pathology, he becomes numb to the reality that the female is more than pussy, that pussy has a mind, a brain, a cornucopia of emotions based on phases of the moon. “If you think I am just a physical thing, wait til you see the spiritual power I bring”, says a poem by Phavia Kujichagulia.
But rather than consider the totality of pussy, let’s limit our discussion to the physicality of pussy, although we may, by the end of this essay, arrive at a more holistic attitude toward pussy. In our initial discussion here, let us then deal with pussy as a physical thing, somehow unconnected to the phenomenon known as “woman.”
Let us begin by saying pussy is transient, elusive and ephemeral. “See,” a woman demonstrated to me as she jumped, “When I jumped my pussy jumped—therefore my pussy belongs to me.” Thus the locus of control of pussy is with the pussy, not any external source such as a man, based on marriage rites and patriarchal social definitions of authority, or de facto slavery when the female is viewed as chattel (personal) property. “I pay the cost to be the boss.”
The time is way past for men to get a grip on themselves regarding the matter of pussy and their warped attitude toward it that is primitive, reactionary and in the modern world forces men into court mandated anger management classes, and often jail and prison as a result of domestic violence. The purpose of this discussion is to bring about progressive consciousness on this matter so that men finally “get it,” and in the process free the woman of oppression and free themselves as well, so both man and woman can pursue their divinity by transcending the focus on sexuality to the higher level of spirituality.
Of course the roots of this sexual dysfunction are religious based—and nearly all the religions are guilty, certainly the patriarchal religions, Judaism, Christianity, Islam.
The educational system enforces the religious order by the sin of omission or saying nothing. After all, a person can attend the highest universities in the land, Harvard, Yale, Stanford, without ever having a class on human sexuality or male/female psychology and socialization.
And so the male, in the absence of manhood training, is left to his own ignorant notions of the nature and value of pussy. His main concern is that the pussy is his and nobody else’s. That he can come and go into the pussy at will, at his beck and call. Of course this is a mental blindness he must overcome immediately he can enter the road to spiritual maturation.
He cannot continue throughout his life in these enlightened times with such backward notions of pussy. Pussy is never static but ever moving, dynamic and fluid. Pussy told me, “I can come with anyone.” But in the cave man’s mind, pussy is static, thus the man is shocked when pussy shows its fluid and dynamic nature jumping in tune with another dick or pussy for that matter. These days, pussies are jumping in tune with each other, partly due to male ignorance of feminine psychosexuality, but more importantly due to the effeminization of black males by societal forces or institutional racism.
The social construct has always been to keep the black male from the reins of power. In the Sisyphusian mythology, we advance to retreat, for with each advance the rules change so we must renew the march up the hill, for the closer we get, the more the mountain top retreats to higher ground. The 60s was the great leap forward in black manhood, but it was crushed of necessity by the US government—black men were determined to take power by force of arms—which could only mean civil war, so they had to be stopped—no society can risk civil unrest by its slaves or former slaves and/or their descendants.
This rush to manhood had to be stopped by any means necessary, infiltration, agent provocateurs, disinformation, sabotage, conspiracy, murder, false charges leading to imprisonment or exile, drugs, sex and rock and roll.
Perhaps a well disciplined army could have withstood the barrage from the oppressor America, but brothers went mad with power, misusing pussy while the government used pussy to destroy the movement by using pussy power to cause chaos in the movement.
Sonia wrote, “What a white woman got cept her white pussy?” She also told us about brothers taking pussy in the name of Fanon, Fanon, Fanon—the “revolutionary screw!”
As activist parents were terrorized by the oppressor, the men in turn terrorized the women, often beating them in the name of black power. The children took note of this parental behavior and some of the males emulated their fathers. And daughters emulated their mothers by remaining passive and submitting to male oppression. The religions enforced this notion of male domination or “leadership.” But when the blind lead the blind, they both fall into the ditch together. How can the male lead when he is ignorant to knowledge of self? Has no knowledge of Supreme Wisdom, or if he does, he doesn't know how to apply it! So he is blind, yet he is supposed to be in authority over his woman—his pussy, rather. This doesn’t make sense!The women fled from this ignorance to embrace each other, finally free from male terrorism, the man who only saw her pussy as pussy, never having a name, a personality and spirituality.
The gay/lesbian revolution caught the fallout from the failure of the pussy culture, the deconstruction of the patriarchy that could not remain in the process of the modern technological revolution that forced the woman out of the house as chattel slave--and once she saw the city, she would never return to the country. World War II brought her the beginning of economic independence with the desecration of the male population from the war. It instituted the matrifocal household or female dominated culture that would become pervasive as we entered the new millennium. The 60s revolution was the last outbreak of black manhood, afterwhich came the crushing power of the state to crush his nuts back into the sands of time, drugging him out, imprisonment, lack of economic opportunity and homosexuality took its toll.
After losing control of the pussy forever, some men turned into pussy, became weak and passive, a disgusting representation of the macho man so familiar to the female who concluded if she was going to have a woman she might as well have a real woman. Terrified of the new woman, the pussy man turned to his own kind for support, adding to the devastation of his gender. Do not think societal forces had no play in his deconstruction, for the 60s terrorized him as much as he had terrified the state--and of course the state won with its awesome police and military power. The state went a step further: it turned the male against himself, his brotherhood, by supplying the drugs and guns that would further deplete the male population by creating internal fear as well as external.
As his woman seized power allowed her by the state and given her by the powerlessness of her man who suffered a military and political defeat after the 60s rebellion, the next generation of males tried to continue the sexual domination with the rise of hip hop culture, the culture that is the direct descendant of 60s black power culture. The young males saw their fathers abuse their mothers and continued the tradition, even trying to extend the pimp/ho culture. So the black woman had a moment of glory when she became a "queen" in the sixties, but by the 80s she was depicted as ho, dog, bitch, even with her advance education and attempt at economic parity, thus equality. In short, his woman was completely and forevermore out of control unless he accepted reciprocity which was anathema to the patriarchal ideal of dominating the pussy.
But with female economic security, the woman would not tolerate his reactionary view of her as pussy. Or maybe she would flip the script and make him her boy toy, to be kicked out at her whim, depending on her emotional disposition or phases of the moon.
Alona Clifton, a political woman in the Bay Area, asked what happened to the love revealed in the song, I Love You Porgey? Indeed, the passion is gone, the chase, the capture, the triumph of domination. It is all fake these days. No one is true, but lies prevail and pervade the love ritual. What has love got to do with it, Tina asked? And Janet said, "What have you done for me lately?" And so we have arrived at a moment in the sun wherein the Creator has things fixed, as Sun Ra taught me, either do the right thing, or we can't go forward or backward in our relationships. Relationships are fragile at best, with men and women filled with insecurity.
Look at the tragic love affair of the young quarterback. It represents the woman asserting her rights to the dick, and so the script has flipped. She owns the penis now, are we not to assume, to the extent that she would blast him four times while he slept. Young men beware, things ain't like they used to be and never will be again. "If you think I'm just a physical thing, wait til you see the spiritual power I bring," says Phavia.
Part Two: Mythology of Pussy
Brother McNair, may he rest in peace, was an NFL quarterback who made it to the Superbowl, but in the Superbowl of Pussy he was an abject failure: he could not quarterback his team of pussies. In the end, pussy triumphed a thousand to one, meeting him on the one yard line and knocking him into eternity. Poor soul, his patriarchal mentality of "I pay the cost to be the boss" didn't mean anything when pussy stood up to confront his proposition of male domination. Clearly, he thought, like men of patriarchal socialization think, that he could have all the pussy he wanted, without a consensus from the pussies. At least the Muslims get a consensus in their polygamous fantasies. I was lucky to escape with my head. One of my pussies said she thought about killing me in my sleep for abusing her. And my father-in-law said he would have killed me a long time ago if his granddaughters didn't love me so much. Pussy is a life and death matter, as we see with McNair and millions of other men who are meeting their fate these days in the pussy rebellion sweeping the planet.
Some time ago I went to speak at a court-mandated domestic violence session. I had come early to the men's session, so when I arrived a women's group was in session, so I sat in. I was amazed to hear the women speak of what they were doing to men these days: from violence to threats of violence over the phone. Brothers need to study the psychology of pussy. As the great mythologist Joseph Campbell noted, women know they are women after the first cycle. When do men know? All primitive societies had manhood rites that taught about womanhood and manhood, but in modern society this training is absent, so men rely on the ignorance of their friends or some reactionary pimp psychology. So when do men get the lesson they are dealing with a spiritual being, a being who can actually take more pain than they--who can bleed for five days without dying while a man cannot bleed for five minutes! Brothers need to get a healing real quick, quicker than you can say Jackie Robinson!
Brothers, don’t ask for the pussy. Wait until she offers it to you, after all it is her pussy. Please, brothers, get an immediate understanding on this, no matter how much you pay on your pussy bill, it’s still her pussy. Your ignorance on this point has caused many of you to be locked down in prisons and jails, some for the rest of your lives, simply because you thought, in your deranged patriarchal mentality, that you owned your woman, that she was your chattel or personal property, causing you to kill your brother or friend. I had friends no longer on this earth because they got caught up in the pussy game.
I sincerely miss my friends and wish they were here to enjoy the fall of Western civilization with me—and the fall of Eastern civilization, for that matter—all the reactionary myths and rituals of the East must fall into the dustbin of history as well, the domestic violence, female genital circumcision, child marriage, honor killings, the whole range of reactionary, archaic, ignorant male mythology pervading the religions and culture of Africa and Asia.
And obviously, women need a healing as well. The woman who killed the quarterback thought she owned her man’s penis. Just as your pussy is not his, his dick is not yours, he can and will give it to whomever he likes. Get a healing on this point and you will advance in your spiritual maturation.
These days, you can’t get on your cell phone and call baby boy to tell him you’re gonna “key” his car because your girlfriend saw him riding down the street with baby mama.
Nobody owns nobody, no matter what the marriage papers say, no matter what shacking laws say. We are free spirits and only when we recognize this will some relationships become lasting, after all, what does flesh have to do with it? Flesh has nothing to do with love and I can use myself as an example—read my essay The Maid, the Ho, the Cook, in my book In the Crazy House Called America. I describe my love for a prostitute who sold her love up and down San Pablo Avenue, one of the longest streets in the Bay Area.
But when she showed up at my door I was happy as a puppy dog, so don’t tell me about flesh. It wasn’t a physical matter, but a matter of the heart. I didn’t give a damn how many men she had slept with since the last time we were together, just come on in the house and give me my moment in the sun.
And what is life except a moment in time? That’s all we have with each other, a moment or two, so enjoy the one you’re with for the moment it is and have no regrets. Get rid of all that sexual greed and guilt from religious socialization that have you inside the box of sexual madness and depravity.
Ask any prostitute or sex worker, her pussy will be just as good tomorrow as it was yesterday. Come out of all that holy Joe bullshit that he violated my trust or she violated our vows. Grow up, what do vows have to do with the reality of life? Human beings are subject to do anything in the course of a day. A large percentage of black women admitted to having sex on the job with the boss in Jet Magazine some years ago. Now you know Jet is the Negro Bible, if it’s in Jet, it’s got to be true!
So love the one ya wit, give them all you can for the moment you are with them and have no regrets, since nothing lasts forever, know this and grow in your spiritual maturation. Let our boys become men with this knowledge and our girls become women. Don’t be a fifty or sixty year old man or woman still tripping about pussy and dick! Oh, he/she was unfaithful! He/she lied to me. He promised to be true.
How can you worry about her pussy when you can’t safeguard your dick? You want to stick your dick in every hole yet worry about what dick is going in her pussy. Get a life! What does it matter what dick is going in her pussy when you don’t even know who she is as a spiritual being and she doesn’t know you accept as a hard dick? Again Phavia, “If you think I’m just a physical thing, wait til you see the spiritual power I bring!”
Part Three: Mythology of Pussy
Opal Palmer Adisa's play Bathroom Graffiti Queen is a womanhood training rite, the feminine counterpart to Amiri Baraka's classic The Toilet which was a manhood rite on the theme of homosexuality. Opal Palmer's play deals with the myriad problems pussy can cause its owner, the woman of course. The language is befitting the bathroom or rest room--though she questions what is there to rest about? But the room is where women come to share their pain by writing on the wall and then await the Bathroom Queen's written reply or spoken to the audience while the women sit on the toilet. The young actress Tatiana Monet does multiple roles, making us wonder is she simply suffering from schizophrenia as part of the drama. The Queen, performed eloquently by Ayodele Nzingha (also director/producer) gives bits of wisdom to each woman's problem, whether it is the young girl who wonders if she should allow the boy to play with her pussy or stick his tongue in her mouth or eventually put his penis inside her, or the woman who is stalked by a man, or how should a woman deal with her period or the funky smell of yeast infection. These are the problems addressed by the Queen, herself broken from time and space in an oppressive world. Her clothing and makeup are graffiti itself, an extension of her madness since something pushed her to live in the toilet among the piss and shit of life, a victim of capitalism and slavery. Her Jamaican accent adds to the flavor of this Pan African drama.
Just as Baraka's Toilet allowed women to peer or peep inside the world of young men, the males in the audience where allowed to view the feminine private conversation and ranting. We've often wondered what women do in the restroom, why they take so long. One female just came to address the wall and pray for an answer. Thus the room became the therapy clinic for a society lacking mental health workers. The sick must heal themselves. And so the young girls turned to the elder woman for comfort even though she was broken herself, for even the doctor or priestess is a victim of pervasive white supremacy.
The evening with the Lower Bottom Playaz theatre in the heart of West Oakland, began with Marvin X's classic Flowers for the Trashman, his 1965 classic about life in the very community the theatre is located. He attended Catholic school and Prescott Elementary School across the street from the theatre, located at 10th and Peralta. His play about the father/son relationship is still relevant today as conditions have deteriorated in the black family with a majority of fathers absent. Indeed, the two men playing the lead roles grew up without fathers. We wonder what pain, what trauma is in their heads as they perform this psychodrama about silence and communication, even police abuse since they young men are in jail from an altercation with police, yes, the OPD. Imagine, we are still dealing with police abuse in Oakland forty years later, yes, even after the rise of the Black Panther Party in this same neighborhood and throughout Oakland for that matter, from Oscar Grant ( shot to death by BART police) to Louvelle Mixon who killed four cops earlier in the year. A student from Howard University, President Davis, told Marvin X the play needs to be updated as per the police. Marvin said, "No. This play is about fathers and sons, not about police brutality--that is another play. When fathers and sons come together there will be no police brutality--there will be war!" The actors included: Doe (Wes) N Reezy (Joe), Wolfhawkjaguar (Negro), D'Leezy Coleman (white man) and High Beats Entertainment (jailer).
This show continues tonight. If you live in West Oakland or anywhere in the Bay, you need to make it down to the Sister Thea Bowman Theatre, 10th and Peralta.
Part Four: Mythology of Pussy
Brothers, clean your hands before entering the pussy, cut your fingernails, remove the dirt. Otherwise, you will wonder why your pussy is not feeling good, but it will be because of your filthy hands causing infection, to say nothing of your filty dick that might have been in any hole it could find, even a hole in the ground. Pussy is delicate, treat it gently, not like you are entering a machine, even though some pussies like it rough and hard, so accommodate those pussies, even though bad results will appear sooner or later. A friend tells me her doctor friend told her we can't imagine some of the problems pussies come to her with as a result of how the men treat pussy, the objects they put in it, beyond dildos--sometimes fists and arms up to the elbow. But pussy is to be treated gently for it is a vital, the most vital organ of the female, well, maybe not equal to the heart, but life comes through pussy, so threat it right. Let it rest from time to time, something I had to learn in my cave man days. In general, the woman's body is precious and complicated. You cannot beat it down and think it is going to serve you forever because it is going to break down. If you beat on your car with a sledgehammer how would it look.
We do the same with our woman in general, beat her down then expect her to function at her best. Sometimes we beat her while pregnant with our child. What can come of a savage who does this--nothing of good, no good luck, as my mother told me time after time when she learned I was abusing my women (as if I owned them).
Brothers in prison and jail behind women, either directly or indirectly (those who committed crimes to satisfy your pussy, i.e.,pay your pussy bill) need to think hard, now that you have a moment to think. There's a right way and wrong way to pay your pussy bill. Don't kill half the community to pay your bill. Figure out a way to hustle without killing people because that shit comes back on you. All money ain't good money. Money with blood ain't no good--it will never bring peace and happiness. Have you seen any movie where the gangsters and murderers went on to live a happy life?
And when you go to jail, you want to put your pussy in jail on the outside. You didn't treat your pussy right when you were free, so now that you're locked down your pussy wants revenge, and yes, your friend is the best way to get revenge--pussy knows how to hurt you real bad by giving some to your friend, best friend. Now you want to kill him and her over her pussy that you abused, disrespected time after time. You locked down with twenty-five to life, so let the pussy walk. Let it have a life. You can't stop it anyway. Go ahead and get with cellie Joe because your days with pussy are over--you blew it, buddy!
Don't stalk your pussy from the prison house. Got your boys following your pussy around town to make sure it doesn't find a dick. It's gonna find something, if only another pussy since you played yourself out of pocket, thinking out of your dick head. Now your girl's girl got your pussy. How you like that Mister Big Time?
Life is a thinking man's game, so think before you act. There are very few things in life really important and pussy ain't one of them. Can you take pussy to the bank? Even so-called pimps know pussy comes and goes, rarely does pussy stay forever, so why you killing over pussy that was going to leave anyway--it was just a matter of time, dummy. Ask Fillmore Slim how many of his ho's stayed forever? Ask him where are all those ho's he had, where did they go--they went to pussyland where all pussies go. So appreciate the pussy while you got it, if only for a moment. Like Fillmore says, if you treat pussy right, it might come back, but if you treat it wrong, it will be long gone.
Part Five: Mythology of Pussy
Lick the pussy lightly, like a feather in the wind. Don't devour it like a Mike Tyson cannibal, "...so greedy for my lady, I turn her womb into a tomb.... Be cool, fool, go away and pray and pray and pray." Yes, pray on the pussy, bless it with kindness until the lips open and spread wide, stroke it til juices flow like Niagara Falls washing your face with love. Oh, the juice of love in the night or early morn.
When joy comes do not spoil the hour with negative ideas, but open the heart of love as the bird cage opens for the bird to take flight only to return when it wills. There is no compulsion in love, for love is not to be forced but happens when it happens, so let it happen on its time not yours, for what do you know of love except when it speaks and you are silent, only then you gain understanding and wisdom. Be silent is the best mode, not the lips that chatter when silence is glory. In silence all things come to you for pleasure, because you are deserving and so the pussy runs over with the juice of love. And you have not touched it with tongue or finger or penis, but the silence of your mind is read by the pussy and so it came running as a lover in search of lost love, that eternal love beyond pussy and dick and silly gender notions of the infantile ones who dwell on the animal plane.
Imagine, the pussy is far away yet so near you smell it, feel it, stroke it until it comes, yet it is not there, only a thought, a memory of time past when pussy was young and fresh and wild, and you ran to it and it embraced you on the beach, in the wind and sun. There was no shame, no guilt, no greed, just innocence of time and place, not even knowing you were in paradise, heaven. It was the best of times and they did not end but reappear even now in the fourth quarter of your life. There is joy and joy knows you and welcomes you home with open arms and lips. Be gentle, ask for nothing because all is yours. No one can have what is yours, for the door only opens for you and you alone. It is no effort on your part, it is the voice of the wind, the falling leaves say it is yours for your labor under the sun.
Part Six: Mythology of Pussy
Pussy ruled the world until along came Crack. Crack diminished the respect and value of pussy forever. It did not destroy the power of pussy but it wounded it forever. After Crack, pussy will never be the same. Its value became so low on the stock market, one could hardly find it, for it dropped worse than in the Great Depression and in this Second Depression pussy is fighting for its life, especially with young brothers thinking they can pimp pussy because the dope game has played out. But these days pussy can take your life, with one drop a man can die from the myriad STDs, not to mention AIDS. Yes, pussy has gone from the giver of life to the taker of life, from the power of God to the power of the devil. Oh, will the glory days of pussy ever come again. The young brothers in the barber shop said to me, "OG, when you were young and caught something from a girl, you only got a drip--today, when we catch something we die!" The times, they are a changing and so has pussy.
Brothers coming home from prison are infecting their women from the joy of prison life. Some women are infertile as a result of their man's homosexual behavior in prison that he denies until it is too late: his poor, innocent woman suffers a death dealing blow because of his dishonesty and debauchery. See Ayodele's great play Death by Twilight. The woman has so much faith in her man she never admits he is the cause of her dying from AIDS.
And then older women go to bars and nightclubs for that one night stand and never recover from their evening with undercover brother who looked like a man but was all bitch inside, even beyond bitch because he was a lier and deceiver, a wicked devil in the night, who stole the woman's heart, body and soul.
I wrote about the insanity of sex in my book The Crazy House Called America. As they say in sociology 1A, sometimes there's a cultural lag because the people are ignorant of the paradigm shift. They are caught unaware of the new order, so they play by the old rules and are naturally knocked out of the game. The Bible says the people were destroyed for lack of knowledge. There is no excuse for ignorance these days, in this information age with knowledge pervading the Internet, my space, face book, twitter and elsewhere. Yet the people walk in darkness. Young girls and old girls fall victim to the pleasures of life, or what used to be a pleasure, but what pleasure is there in making love to a dummy? Or a psychopath? I saw a girl with a T shirt that said, "Cute, but Psycho," at least she warned us, not that the boys will heed her message, for they are psycho as well. So when the blind lead the blind....
Michael said Remember the Time! Remember the time when pussy was golden and pure, pasteurized and homogenized! Today pussy is filthy as the harlot's, or maybe hers is cleaner than the square girls because the harlot knows how to clean hers, the square girl knows nothing because mama taught her nothing because mama didn't know being the Crack ho she was. But I agree with Tupac, "You might be a Crack fiend, Mama, but you still a black queen, Mama!"
Part Seven: Mythology of Pussy
We support a woman's right to control her pussy and the fruit thereof. At the same time we condemn men who deposit their semen in the pussy of a murderer, for we agree with Mother Theresa who said, "Abortion is the first murder, after which all other murder is possible." And prophet Muhammad said, "Do not kill your children for fear of poverty." Abortion would not be possible if men did not have sex with women they know favor abortion, so I put the onus on men, not women. Men should ask the woman if she gets pregnant will she kill the unborn child? If she says yes, he should depart from her in haste, unless he favors murder as well. Why are you jumping in a woman's pussy you know is a killer? Now if you want her to kill your seed, that is another matter--the matter is why? What if your parents had aborted you?
What is wrong with putting an unwanted child up for adoption, since there are many women who cannot have children? There are couples who would love and cherish that unwanted child, so why is there a need to kill it? And even though a woman's body is her business, it seems to me the man should be informed--supposedly, in the woman's mind, it's none of his business. This is why I say the man was wrong to enter her pussy in adverse circumstances.
Even in the case of rape, why not put the child up for adoption? If the life of the mother is in danger, this is another matter--abortion must be considered.
We are absolutely opposed to the right wing Christian anti-abortion hypocrites who favor murder to stop murder, even to the point of assassinating doctors. Furthermore, these right wing Christians--where in the Bible does Jesus advocate murder?--only want to delay the death of the child, allowing it to grow up so it can fight and die in imperialist wars across the planet. So these Christians are no different from the pro-abortion women, it is only a difference of time, the objective is the same. Does it matter if the child is killed in the womb or 18 years later in wars for the expansion of capitalism and slavery?
If the woman (and man) is too poor to feed the child, put it up for adoption. A dear friend of mine adopted a child from Jamaica whose family could not afford to feed. She brought the child back to America and raised him like a prince. She paid for him to received manhood training at the African Village in South Carolina. She adopted and raised four other Crack babies, giving them a wonderful life, even though they yet appreciate it--like most children (even the "normal ones")--they are ungrateful.
Often times economics is not the problem but education and psychology or the mental state of the parents, especially the woman--although the young man or father is in the same situation, ignorant and often mentally ill. The result is child abuse. Too many young mothers are ignorant of how to feed a child, even hold a child. I know young mothers who habitually feed their child and themselves at McDonalds--breakfast, lunch and dinner. Many young ladies were drug addicted when they got pregnant, thus unable to breastfeed their child. These mothers need community support. We see these babies with babies on the streets of Oakland. We see their stress, how they curse the children, calling them motherfuckers and sons of bitches. They need community support because often grandmother (thirty, forty or fifty years old) says she's "too old" to be a grandmother. One grandmother whose son has two children, says she wants her son to stay home with her rather than live with his baby moma who's struggling for dear life with two children at 26 years old. This poor mother grew up in Berkeley but had never been to San Francisco. She is no different than young people in Newark, New Jersey who've never been to New York.
Babies with babies is not helpful to our community progress. Often the mother, father and children are doomed to poverty unless they are determined to rise up in spite of circumstances. And community support is greatly needed. Teach the young people manhood and womanhood rites or how to restrain themselves until they mature. At eighteen when I fathered my first child, I was a baby with a baby, and soon followed another child before I was twenty. I am happy for the children, but they could have been delayed until I finished my education. I am happy my children restrained themselves sexually until they completed their education. Thank God they had more discipline than I. I do know that one of my sons (now deceased, RIP) impregnated an Asian girl while in college. He asked me what to do and I told him not to abort, but he did so anyway because he said the girl could not return to Japan with a black child. As I've written elsewhere, she could have left the little Tiger Woods here and took her funky ass back to Japan.
117 Mythology of Pussy, Hottest Book in Oakland!
The hottest book in Oakland is not on the New York Times best seller list. And it will never be, more than likely. Over the last forty years, none of Marvin X’s writings have been reviewed in the major media, but in the black underground he is the most prolific writer. The Last Poets say he writes a book a month. In April he finished the first draft of his memoir of Eldridge Cleaver in three weeks. A few days ago he began writing an essay entitled Mythology of Pussy, a manhood training manual for brothers—and for sisters as well, telling them to look at the opposite sex with the lens of spirituality, rather than viewing each other as sexual objects.
The title alone is causing men, women, youth and children to snatch the pamphlet out of his hand. He was downtown Oakland asking for donations for the pamphlet, getting between $1.00 and $5.00. For those with no money, he gave it away. When Marvin handed the pamphlet to a father, his little daughter tried to snatch it out of his hand. He resisted and told her let him read it first, then she can read it. A teenager grabbed the pamphlet and wouldn’t release it, even though she didn’t have any money. She would have dragged the poet down the street if he didn’t let go of the Mythology of Pussy.
And when he ran out of copies for the day, a mature black woman was very angry he didn’t have any more after seeing him passing them out. He promised her he would return today with a fresh batch hot off the press.
If you want a copy, come down to 14th and Broadway, downtown Oakland. Even Joyce Gordon of the Joyce Gordon Gallery where Marvin will sign his Cleaver book on Saturday, August 1, --3-5pm, took a copy to her gallery and began reading it aloud to customers. She returned to tell Marvin when he wants to know more about pussy, come see her. She has a few things to say. A conscious brother who read the pamphlet said he agreed with Marvin that manhood and womanhood training is the order of the day. The theme is about overcoming domestic and street violence, especially over pussy. Too many brothers must go to court mandated anger management classes because they think they own the pussy. Even the girls think they own the dick--witness NFL quarterback McNair who was shot to death by his girlfriend because she thought he had too many pussies. Marvin says too many brothers are in jail and prison because they tried to pay their pussy bill with ill gotten gain.
Figure out a way to hustle without killing and destroying lives with dope, the pamphlet suggests.
Mythology of Pussy Comments
I admit the title turned me off-no man would ever lay his hands on me with that kind of language, but you have plenty to say and you say it like it is --even if it makes you feel uncomfortable.
--C. Mixon
Let me see what you talkin bout, Marvin--I been sittin on mine 80 years!--Jerri Lange, author,A Black Woman's Life in the Media
Don't send me anything vulgar like this. My mother didn't talk like this.
--D. Jackmon
My pussy ain't no myth!
--Anon
Take me off your mailing list.
--Dr. E. Allen, Umass
I want my son to read this with a man, not with me.
-Rashida M
I wish I'd read this when I was 18. It would have saved me a lot of trouble with women. I would have recognized who they are and who I am as a spiritual being.
--Reginald J.
Marvin, you and I should have read this when we were 17. Would have saved women a lot of hell.
--Lumukanda
Do you have a brown bag? I can't take this back to work, might get fired.
--Anon
I put it in the trunk of my car--can't take it in the house, my wife will kill me.
--Conway J
Is Mythology of Pussy Pornographic? OPD Swoop Down on Marvin X
As Marvin X continued his literacy and educational campaign at the crossroads of Oakland, 14th and Broadway, he was suddenly surrounded by Oakland police who jumped out of three cars to see if he was passing out pornographic literature. At first the officers stopped another street brother for questioning. When he was found not to be on probation or parole and had no warrants, he was free to go, although he was told he looked like the guy who was shooting at them last night and they are watching him. Then the third police car arrived and the officer came to Marvin X, saying he had received a complaint someone was passing out porno. Marvin X's books were on display, including the "best seller" Mythology of Pussy. He asked the officer would he like a copy. The officer said no and didn't bother to peruse it. He turned to join his fellow officers who continued to chat for several minutes before departing.
Other than the visit by Oakland's finest--who now have a new police chief brought in from Long Beach, CA, Marvin had a good day at his outdoor classroom. One mother got Mythology for her daughters. Another woman got two copies, one to send to a cousin in Texas. Another mother told her daughter to see how much money she had. The girl said 75 cents. The mother said, "Give it to him. Do you see that lock on the cover?" She was referring to the cover art with the chastity belt.
When youth claim they have no money, not even a dollar, Marvin has an angel who promptly gives the poet a dollar. The angel tells the person he is willing to give a dollar to possibly save their life. Indeed, if one reads Mythology, it will help them in their male/female relations, making them understand patriarchal domination must be eradicated.
At Oakland Art and Soul festival last weekend, one woman told Marvin X she thoroughly enjoyed reading Mythology and was so happy to see a man saying the things Marvin said, some of which she had not heard before. Many young men are reading Mythology to "get up on their game." If they want more game, wait until they read his soon to be released The Wisdom of Plato Negro, A Hustler's Guide to Game.
Marvin has also released a pamphlet entitled Inside Baraka's The Toilet, A Love Letter to Gay and Lesbian Youth. It is a attempt to reach out to touch the growing population of gay and lesbian youth who hang out in the downtown area.
Oakland Man Jacked in Sacramento For Mythology
An Oakland man made the mistake of showing his copy of Mythology of Pussy to a group of young black males. He said they read parts of the pamphlet and refused to give it back to him. They said he could leave the apartment where they were gathered, but they were not giving him back the controversial manual on manhood and womanhood training. Young black males claim they can "up their game" by reading the pamphlet.
In Oakland, psychologist Dr. Lige Dailey, drove his Cadillac convertible to Marvin X's outdoor classroom at 14th and Broadway to obtain his copy. Superior Court Judge Gordon Baranco got his on the way to court.
At Rite Aid Drug Store, a young clerk had three copies of Mythology stolen by co-workers. Marvin gave her another copy and told her to take it home and don't show it to anyone on the way home or when she gets home. Several people reported to Marvin how their friends stole their copy or took it from their house and refuse to return it.
The poet's micro-credit plan is still working. Persons without money get the pamphlet on credit. Every day people return with the five dollar donation. He received a $20.00 donation from some.
Is Mythology of Pussy for Whites Only?
The white man who read Mythology was indeed an arrogant, upper class capitalist swine. He also told me he would not help me publish How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy because he and his brothers/friends are not trying to recover from white supremacy--they love it and will bomb the world to keep it. As the agent for my archives, he says he's done more for me than anybody else, so don't say he's not helpful. He's also the agent for the archives of Eldridge Cleaver, Ishmael Reed, David Henderson, Joyce Carol Thomas and others. He claims to have helped get the MLK, Jr papers to Stanford. So there appears to be a degree of schizophrenia in this white man, along with his air of white supremacy. The truth is that Mythology of Pussy was written for human beings everywhere, especially men, who suffer the addiction to white supremacy with notions and actions of domination and oppression, especially of women. With respect to black people, I wrote it for them because so many brothers are in jail, and sisters, as a result of partner violence.
Here in the Bay a black man just shot is ex-girl while she worked as a bridge toll taker--shot her in the booth. Then he drove to the parking lot and killed her boyfriend who'd dropped her off to work. Two people are dead and he may qualify for the death penalty--so a total of three people may lose their lives behind pussy. As we know patriarchal notions of domination is a pandemic and I want my brothers, whoever they are, to wake up and smell the pussy of a new day in male/female relations. I just heard a report of Sec. of State Hillary Clinton's trip to Africa. The African woman claim they are treated like shit by their men and pray for a better day, no matter what religion, tribe or ethnic group.
Mythology of Pussy on Tour
Not since the Black Panthers invaded the California State Capitol in 1967, has a group of people rocked the area. On Saturday afternoon four people came into the area for a book party in Elk Grove at the home of James and Renee Sweeney. Sweeney is a political wheeler-dealer with an office across the street from Gov. Swartznegger's headquarters. The Sweeney's agreed to host a book party for Marvin X. Marvin arrived with his colleague, Ptah, one of the brightest students to come out of the San Francisco State University Black Studies department. Also traveling with "Plato Negro" were singer/guitarist Rashidah Mwongozi and choreographer/dancer Raynetta Rayzetta. When they arrived at the Sweeney residence they immediately went to the backyard to sit by the man made lake. Soon people began arriving. Sweeney had told Marvin to expect a mixed crowd--from the suites to the streets. And so it was. The first guest was a black woman administrator of a 100 billion
dollar insurance fund, the second largest in the state of California . She was followed by artists, painters, entrepreneurs, and common people. All came seeking light and love.
After the crowd socialized and enjoyed a pot luck dinner, Sweeney asked Marvin to begin. Unlike his friends who came to the area with guns in 1967, Marvin came with his pen, his books and team of performers in the Black Arts Movement tradition. He signaled for Rashidah to begin with a song. She opened with a tribute to her father as a black man in America . When she concluded three original songs, brother Ptah came forward with two poems, the second was Can You Spare Some Change. As he neared the end of Spare Some Change, Marvin joined him with his poem Can You Change. The audience was ecstatic. It was the best rendition of the two poems together. Too bad the poets didn't put it out during the Obama campaign.
I should mention that Ptah had made opening remarks that this gathering should and must happen at least once a month throughout black America , coast to coast. As Dr. Hare suggested, we must organize these peer group meetings to address our mental health issues as we recover from the addiction to white supremacy. In Marvin's remarks, he said we must first detox then recover, as Ptah wrote in his afterword to How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy. Detox involves stopping the conspicuous consumption of white supremacy goods--all that shopping at the mall for goods we don't need just want, out of boredom and the lack of spiritual harmony with ourselves, our mates, children and friends--out of harmony with nature itself. When a brother asked a question about spirituality, he was answered by a call and response reading of Marvin’s poem What If. This was the climax of the afternoon.
Ptah told his mentor that while he was reading What If, Ptah looked at a woman who was reciting with her eyes closed but smiling in a state of total joy. Ptah said he heard someone say the event was better than church. Sweeney, who knew the audience, told Marvin later that he had touched some nerves, especially with his remarks on white supremacy—there was several people who are suffering white supremacy on the job and were very sensitive to his remarks and found them refreshing.
When “Plato Negro” had mentioned the Harvard professor, Gates, who failed the tone test recently, a brother said he was happy to know the tone test: when stopped by the police, one of three things can happen: the police can arrest you, kill you or release you, based on your tone of voice.
The book party was to celebrate the release of his memoir Eldridge Cleaver, My Friend the Devil, but little of the discussion was about the Cleaver book. Marvin only read a few pages from his memoir, even though Jimmy Garrett calls it the funniest book of the year. Mythology of Pussy was the best seller. The evening ended with introductions from all present. Again, people present came from a variety of backgrounds, expressing the diversity of black life. We encourage such gatherings at least once a month from coast to coast so we can begin the healing from the ravages of white supremacy--but the focus is our spirituality. We must find the safe space wherein we can gather to share, to release the pain and trauma so often held inside until diseases result. There is much trauma and unresolved grief in our community and we must have such communal gatherings to heal and transcend to higher ground.
Preface to Mythology of Pussy
The real mission of the Marvin X Literary Revolution is to spread literacy. After all, with half high school students dropping out of school in the urban cities, how many of them can read his or any books? Educators must first get Johnny's attention somehow, then take Johnny up the road to literacy by holding his attention with relevant information in a language he can at least partly identify with. For sure, once Johnny gets into Mythology of Pussy, he will quickly discover my language is beyond the vernacular and reflects my education, even though I flunked English grammar, but I know enough to teach it on the university level. So the reader will find himself/herself with the need to grab the dictionary because I do know more words than motherfucker and bitch.
But let's be real, how many men in the hood have asked a woman for some vagina? White people or white black people may say, "Give me some vagina," but where I come from it's, "Baby, give me some pussy, please," although I advocate not asking for the pussy. Let the woman give it to you, since it's hers to give. Furthermore, I advocate silence and ESP in black communication since "the devil" is in the language. Look how stupid and silly some of us are reacting to the term pussy.
So the objective is literacy and I found out long ago when I taught English in secondary schools that the first order of business is to get the student's attention. Once you have their attention, learning can begin. In my case, students got so inspired they asked me to read my poetry during lunch and after school. Yes, students surrounded me during lunch and demanded I read my poetry because it was in a language they could understand and identify with. They came into my class after school and demanded I again read to them.
When I told them to read my poetry, they said, "No, Teach, you read it. We like the way you read."
When this happened to me, it made we reflect on post-slavery education when it is said they had to beat the students out of the classroom because they didn't want to go home, the thirst for learning was so great, in contrast to today when we must beat them into the classroom, unless we can get their attention and inspire them to learn with the thirst of their ancestors.
My colleague (Brother Ptah) and I have been working on the Hug A Thug Book Club to inspire literacy. "Hug A Thug Before the Thug Hugs You!" Paul Cobb added, "Crack a book before you're booked for crack!" Brothers write me from prison and jail to send them my books, but I am honored when these so-called thugs buy my books before they go to jail as Paul Cobb suggests. Although I understand jail and prison is the first time some black men get "time" to read, so I don't mind sending them books.
In these tight economic times, many brothers and sisters don't have money for books. When a young father told me the other day he didn't have money for Mythology of Pussy because he had to get his two sons haircuts, I started to give him the pamphlet. But I did not, instead I reflected to myself that the father better get them information to save their lives rather than a haircut. And when a mother said she was going to read the pamphlet herself rather than give it to her 15 year old son, I told her, "OK, but when Dante goes to juvenile hall for assaulting his girlfriend, don't call me." Another mother was simply embarrassed to have her son read it, especially in her presence. She said, "I don't want him to read this with me. He can read this by himself." Many parents have so much sex guilt and shame they cannot discuss sex with their children. This is why I call for manhood and womanhood training rites.
At the Berkeley Flea Market, an African man came by with a group of young African American males I suspected were in a group home or foster home. The African let me know he had received his manhood training in Africa, so I told him to give it to the boys with him. He said, "Yes, yes, yes."
As Brother Lumukanda, noted, if he and I had received Mythology of Pussy when we were 17, it would have guided us on the right path regarding gender roles or sexual identity confirmation. We would have had better manners and morals. So many of our youth are suffering a sexual identity crisis, they can't decide whether they are straight or gay. But this was/is the purpose of manhood and womanhood training, to help them decide. See Jomo Kenyatta's classic Facing Mount Kenya, his ethnography of the Kikuyu tribe in Kenya--their life and death, work and play, sex and family. President Obama, himself a product of Kenya, said notable things in his speech to the NAACP but perhaps because he lacked manhood training did not suggest it as a solution to African American youth. He said they must stop trying to get into the NBA and instead get MBAs and science degrees, and aspire to be scientists rather than rappers. I agree totally, unless they are going to rap freedom songs/poems.
Sonia Sanchez asks, "Will your book free us?"
I was so happy shortly after Obama was elected when I heard a young man on the bus in Oakland say, "Man, I'm so happy he is president. Now I got somebody else to look up to beside rappers." Yes, I was proud to hear this young man say this, even with a grill in his mouth--the grill made his remarks more profound!
Mythology of Pussy Dance/Drama is a manhood/womanhood rites of passage. We will compose it in workshop and produce it ASAP. It will be based on Mythology of Pussy and How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy by Marvin X. Marvin X is thinking about including scenes from Geoffrey Grier's The Spot, Opal Palmer's Bathroom Grafitti Queen and Ayodele Nzingha's Death by Twilight. Just a thought to illustrate the Mythology book. Dance and music can be African ritual music from manhood and womanhood rites of passage. This is a drama to heal the pain and trauma of growing up in the wilderness of North America and to celebrate the joy of life and love.
117 Mythology Hits Mississippi
Marvin X took his Mythology guerrilla tour to Mississippi earlier today. Fans at the Jackson State/Grambling football game in Jackson, Mississippi were treated with copies of Mythology as they left the game, many at half-time when the score was 20 to 3, in Grambling's favor. The first question several people asked the poet as he handed out copies was, "What is your religion?" The poet was shocked by the question and didn't see the relevance, so he didn't answer. Of course he was in the heart of the Bible Belt or Cotton Curtain, so he expected the unexpected, including seeing several of his pamphlets thrown to the ground by offended Christians--of course they are hypocritical since church members suffer many of the ailments he describes and offers a solution in Mythology, including teenage pregnancy, partner violence, anger management issues, rape, domination and exploitation of females, also jail and prison as a result of men paying their "pussy bill." No matter, the poet continued passing out Mythology--a female security guard came to ask for the pamphlet after so many fans passed through her gate with Mythology in hand. One father gave a donation and said he would give Mythology to his son.
With a crowd in thousands, the poet saw two white people. Oddly enough, when a white woman came and stood near him, the passersby suddenly seemed more interested and less negative. Yes, once they saw the white woman who was dressed like Lula in Baraka's Dutchman, their vibration suddenly changed--first their eyes focused on Lula then the pamphlet which they grabbed without hesitation. I refused to look at Lula even when she kept edging closer and closer to me. I kept wondering why she was moving closer but if she was the devil she helped sway the negroes toward "God's servant" so they could get the literature. See how God uses the devil. Clay must have been waiting for her since I heard her on the cell phone say she was out front with her umbrella--but no one could not see a white woman in a crowd of ten thousand Africans.
I never gave her the pamphlet and she didn't ask for it, although she was so close I could hear her breathing--actually, I was beginning to feel a little fearful--thinking the Africans would think she was with me--of course they probably thought that anyway--and maybe wishing she was with them. For sure, she changed the vibe from negative to positive for the time she was there, and for a moment I was praying she would hurry up and leave. I was getting spooked like the time I had a white woman friend drive me from South Carolina to the Savannah GA airport at 3AM--I was praying nothing happened--nothing did.
In the words of Ancestor Nina Simone, "Mississippi Goddamn!" The poet was happy to cross back into Louisiana, yes, feeling like one of his slave ancestors who escaped from the jungle to the forest.
It truth, it was great being among the many thousands of Africans at the stadium in Jackson, Mississippi, even with the presence of so many African police without the attitude of the North's finest. Will Jackson one day rival Atlanta? Will sections of the South exercise de facto African sovereignty?
The men in Jackson, Mississippi do look like men and the women like women, although I did give my "pink" pamphlet (my love letter to gay and lesbian youth) to a manly sister with two ladies. In truth, I gave my "pink pamphlet" to a brother dressed in pink, though he looked masculine. When I gave Mythology to a clearly gay brother walking with some sisters, he immediately handed it to them.
The scary thing is the stranglehold of religion and the plethora of liquor stores throughout the hood, even at the service station where liquor stores,I believe, carried more than beer. And there were many brothers stumbling out of the stadium.
I wrote a free style rap with Askari X called Jesus and Liquor Stores. Between Jesus and Liquor Stores do Africans have a chance--especially in Mississippi where these devices are clearly a form of social control, as they are everywhere.
The tickets were $25.00 for students and adults to get into the game--too much for me, so I did not go in, and as a result I think there were more adults at the game than students. Of course the Greeks were everywhere pushing Greek "culture." Ptah told me to introduce myself to the Greeks as Plato Negro and they would open doors for me.
One young brother hawking CDs told me my Mythology wasn't nothing, nothing. I'm not sure if he was referring to the term pussy or the pamphlet--I think it was the word pussy that was "nothing." For some people, here and in the North, the term itself holds trauma of the most wretched kind. I watched one woman come toward me looking bitter, so when I gave her the pamphlet she immediately threw it down. She was mad or bitter already--if I had handed her money she would have threw it on the ground.
Of course Jackson State University is the Africans "own" school but we wonder about the endgame of black education--what are we producing in the black schools but another generation of Negroes! Of course conditions often force people to new vistas, so the so-called Negro may be forced to do for self.
119 Thank you for your support
Again, thank you for your support. I was further humbled when a brother of my generation, a former Black Panther, told me he actually learned something from reading Mythology. You know it takes a certain courage and humility for a black man to tell another black man he learned something from him, so I took his comments with great humility, knowing that I do not own the truth but I am only a vehicle for the truth, so I do not think for one moment I am saying something original, just truthful. I know it is not me who deserves the praise but the God of Truth.
I want other writers to come out of academia and into the streets to spread their truths so the people can arise from the dead. We so often talk and condemn the people for illiteracy and ignorance, and then when they find material that sparks their interest we condemn them or the material or the writer who has inspired them to read and move to higher consciousness.
Remember when the people only read Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines--we condemned them but did we provide them with alternative material? If they start with Mythology and like it, surely they will be moved to read my other books or books by other writers. Soon we may have a literacy and consciousness revolution in the hood instead of negro/black killings. Imagine, youth are stealing Mythology from each other. What if they stole other books from each other? Or what if authors disseminated their books for free throughout the hood--surely there would be a change in consciousness. Dope dealers reading books, sex workers reading books, school drop outs reading books while hanging on the corner.
Seeing a "player" reading Mythology on the corner of 14th and Broadway in Oakland, a white man immediately came to me to buy a copy. Of course he wanted to see what that Player was reading. M
120 Woman stoned
Imagine all the people likely to be stoned to death in America if Islamic Sharia law were imposed. Because of the many backward notions in religions due to primitive mythology, I wrote Beyond Religion, toward Spirituality. Religion has outlived any usefulness in today's world. It is the cause of violence in the home, in the street and numerous wars across the planet, e.g., Christian Crusaders occupying Muslim lands throughout the Middle East and Africa. The Christians are as backward, dogmatic and narrow minded as Muslims. What right do they have to impose democracy or any part of their warped, hypocritical moral vision on people when they have yet come to terms with the cross and the lynching tree.
Can religion be summed up as man's attempt to control women? She outsmarted, fooled and deceived Adam in the Garden and has suffered ever since.So her body, mind and soul must be guarded against, watched over and never allowed an iota of freedom. She is thus the property of men who "maintain" her even though today women are often quite able to maintain themselves and men, yet the man "pays the cost to be the boss," though this may be an illusion, a figment of his imagination from times past.
Whether it is gang rape, partner violence, emotional and verbal abuse, the woman suffers greatly from the men she loves--again, the concept of honor killings reveal that even her father, brothers, husband, uncle, cousins, may seek her life if she steps outside the door of primitive patriarchal mythology found in the various religions. In the church she is condemned for being a "church ho" but her preacher is forgiven--even rewarded for his "pimping in the name of the Lord."
121Rape and Mythology
Rape and Mythology
The recent rape of the young lady at Richmond High School reveals the urgency of my monograph The Mythology of Pussy. Yes, the title may be abhorrent and offensive to many, but the content is essential manhood and womanhood training that speaks directly to how youth can become socialized beyond the patriarchal mythology that is totally dysfunctional in the global village—a socialization that breeds animal and savage behavior in men and often women who are taught values of domination, ownership,violence, emotional and verbal abuse.
Rape is the ultimate expression of the patriarchal or male dominated society wherein the female has no value other than as a sexual animal that must serve men at every turn, willingly or unwillingly. So how can we be shocked when we know this society was founded upon rape, kidnapping, murder—the total exploitation of human beings. America is the place where women had their bellies cut open and lynched along with men during our enslavement.
Even as we speak, America is raping, torturing, murdering and exploiting poor people around the world, from Iraq to Afghanistan and Pakistan. She is endorsing such behavior throughout the Americas, in Mexico, Guatemala, and Columbia. All for the profit motive, for the glories of capitalism.
Yet, little Johnny is supposed to behave peacefully in the hood—he is supposed to act civilized in spite of his poverty, ignorance and disease. His ghetto life is the culture of violence—and it is merely a reflection of the larger society of violence—violence in the news, movies, books, sports, and yes, sex. America cannot tell little Johnny not to rape when she goes around the world raping!
But we cannot only blame America because such animal behavior is worldwide—even as I write, women, men and children are being raped in the Congo, Sudan and South Africa.
They were raped in the Balkans, Iraq and all wars throughout history. Women are called “the spoils of war” or “booty.” Every soldier knows women are the prize they get for killing “the enemy.”
The youth in Richmond were acting out the same behavior we did as teenagers when I grew up in Fresno. As teenagers, my friends used to gang rape every Sunday at the show—every Sunday girls were taken behind the movie screen while we sat eating popcorn and watched the white man kill Indians—and in our ignorance, some of us cheered the slaughter of the Native Americans, even while many of us had Native American blood in our veins. And if the girls were not gang raped behind the screen, they were raped on the train yard as we crossed the tracks going home to the projects. We called gang rape “pulling a train” on the girl. The boys lined up to wait their turn—just as in the Richmond case, nobody said stop, this is wrong, this is criminal, this is somebody’s sister. This was our culture, thus normal behavior. If you didn’t engage in this behavior you were considered a “punk.”
Gang rape was thus part of expressing manhood—it was the only mythology we knew. Violence was not only toward women, but toward other men as well. We went to the show to fight Mexicans because few whites came to our theatre—we wanted to fight the whites but the Mexicans were a reasonable facsimile. We went to the dance and concerts to fight Mexicans and brothers from “the country,” since we considered ourselves “city nigguhs.” Yes, we were city nigguhs who picked cotton, cut grapes and pitched watermelons almost as much as the so-called country nigguhs.
Violence against woman and men will not end until we deconstruct the mythology of the patriarchal or male dominated culture globally—rape is happening worldwide—it is an epidemic in South Africa. Even before the Richmond incident, a brother told me how the young women are raped in hotel rooms downtown Oakland. He pointed out to me the girls walking pass my outdoor classroom at 14th and Broadway—he said all of them have been given drugs in drinks and then raped.
As long as the mythology of world culture (including the religions of Judaism, Christianity, Islam, African traditional religion, Buddhism, Hinduism, et al) promotes the domination of women, rape shall the ultimate expression. As long as men are taught women are chattel or personal property, rape will persist, along with domestic and partner violence, verbal and emotional violence.
We must understand rape has nothing to do with sex—rape is an act of violence! It is an expression of power, control, authority, domination. Religion perpetuates such violence by promoting male authority and ownership. The religious community must be prepared to make radical and revolutionary changes in its theology, mythology and ritual. It must rid its theology of women as chattel or personal property of men. We are descendants of slaves, yet our relationships are the embodiment of slavery with the resulting partner violence, verbal and emotional abuse.
The sad truth is that the religious community or leadership cannot advocate changing traditional values because to do so would decrease the power of leadership, a leadership that is often guilty of the same said violence, rape, domination and exploitation of females—and often males!
The only solution is radical and revolutionary manhood and womanhood rites of passage, wherein young men and women evolve to see themselves as spiritual beings in human form. I will end with a quote from a poem by Phavia Kujichagulia, “If you think I am just a physical thing, wait til you see the spiritual power I bring.”
I encourage the reader to obtain a copy of my Mythology of Pussy: A Manual for Manhood and Womanhood Rites of Passage. Go to www.marvinxwrites.blogspot.com.
I just returned from a national tour promoting this monograph—I dropped seeds in Texas,
Louisiana, Mississippi, Washington DC, Philadelphia, Newark, NJ, and Harlem, NY. It is indeed sad to return home to the Bay Area and learn of the incident in Richmond. We must stand up from animal to divine—from bestiality to spirituality—there is no other way! –Marvin X
122 Why I love lesbians
I love Lesbians
Cause they excite me
in their rejection of m
I love them cause they hate me
in their hatred is drama
I love drama
standing next to them
chest to chest
cheek to cheek
they step backward
at my manly aggression
I love their honesty
in defense of community
of course I don't listen
understand no part of no
my arrogant masculinity
macho disrespect
but I wouldn't take the pussy
have become wiser
in old age.
123 Monday love
Monday love ain't Sunday love
before work love
don't want to go to work love
before morning shower/coffee love
entangle
caress
tongue in mouth
down her valley of nile
safari
for the wild animal in her
ride each other till
earth quake comes
aftershocks
love talk
coffee
shower when she gets home
smell like each other
pussy in moustache
smell my underarms
sweet love funk
may not shower today
wear her all day
imagine her with me on me under me
me in her mouth
stroking me to perfection
relaxation
what is heaven about?
it's Monday
boss waiting
let the sucker wait
I'll be in late
boss man.
124 Fetus
Mama please don't kill me
don't you see I got my daddy's head hands feet
mama please don't kill me
don't flush me down the toilet
I might be a prophet
come to save the world
mama
please
don't
kill
Me.
125 What is love
What is love?
only kisses hugs
what is love
only meetings of the minds
what about times
when minds do not meet
is love not present in the air
in the blood of loving souls
too ignorant to know the test of love
the many ways it strives to be and not be yet is always and forever
not always tender
sometimes rough and sharp
like a razor cutting to the heart
love is pain we take to grow
be strong again
with tears in the night
alone again
we find ourselves wondering
if love was even real
yet it was if we see if we look
beyond romantic notions
of everything is cool always with love
but we know the blues of love
when we miss the words from lips
so tender in truth
but we miss them in haste
to be the authority on love
yet love has been around since eternity
and will stay when lovers have gone away
it will stay
in spite of all the tear the fights the verbal bouts
the put outs and come backs
and gimme my keys
and why don't you call
and don't you still care
and why did you go
and do you really lover her or really love him
after all the time we shared
how could you do this to me
after all I did for you in the night
what is love
sometimes we must enjoy the hurt the pain
only to grow be wise again
this time with God in the center of things
but try
for love is precious
and time is short
and life must be lived with joy
somehow through it all
let joy arise and take control
of love.
126 Gabon, a pan african love story
He fell in love with a little chicken wing coolie-girl from Trinidad. She was big as a toothpick but he loved her madly even though she was in love with an African from Gabon whose uncle was the President of Gabon, Bongo. The young man was studying to be an airline pilot who was in the United States for flight training. He loved Claudette who was an Afro-Indian from Trinidad. She was madly in love with her pilot friend until the "old man," the "black American" came on the scene. Claudette was a friend of the "old man's" sister Donna, herself in love with a mad West Indian named Fitzroy, a talented but alcoholic brother from Jamaica. Ah, the Pan African drama is on!
Going to visit his sister one night, he saw Claudette leaving his sister's apartment down by Oakland's Lake Merritt. He spitted at her and she replied, and soon he was in her bed making mad love to this chicken wing. Eldridge Cleaver had told him the Caribbean girls have a short attention span, as he had observed in Europe among the Africans and Caribbean ladies. Claudette was true to the game. Her pilot lover was out of town when she met the poet, the "old man," the "black American," so she did her thing with him, except he was too big for her small toothpick body, and secretly she yearned for her African boy with the small dick. But he was out of town, so she got accustomed to the “black American with the big dick.”
He sucked her and fucked her to no end and she loved it and became addicted, wanting him even when her little dick lover came in from flight training, from Paris or wherever he went to earn his hours. When she was with him she gave him love but when he left town the old man, the black American was in her bed, in the bath tub with her, since he knew the young man’s flight schedule. Minutes after the pilot left, the old man was in her pussy, slam dunking her to no end.
The young man from Gabon, nephew of Bongo, was aware of the goings on in his absence. Sometimes he would call from Paris and hear the old man in the background or foreground humping his woman. He accepted with regret that his woman was in love with the old man. He told his father and uncle, Bongo, of the goings on with the “black American,” They plotted between Paris, Gabon, and Oakland on what to do with the “black American.”
The “black American” got wind of their plot to get him out of the mix. He got violent with Claudette, sending her home with two black eyes. “Now explain that to that African motherfucker, bitch. Tell him how you got two black eyes, bitch.” She went home and told the pilot she had walked into a door.
Then there was the time when the old man got a shot-gun from his brother to rescue his “bitch” from the African in this very Pan African drama. As his brother was driving him over to Claudette’s house, the shotgun went off in the car and the old man was deaf for a moment.
When he got to the house, he went in and while the pilot was sitting at the kitchen table, he told “the bitch” to get up and come with him, which she promptly did, leaving the African sitting at the kitchen table—in the words of Eldridge Cleaver—“with his dick in his hand and his heart racing.”
One day he was at Claudette's when she said, "I just heard gunshots." He went over to the window to look out. He saw two men getting into a car--they looked like police types, although black. He later learned the man murdered was San Quentin Six brother Fleeta Drumgo. Years later his murder would remain unsolved, but it probably resulted from his possible role in the killing of prison guards and the retaliaton from guards.
Claudette eventually moved on from the pilot and the old man. She met another brother from Trinidad and had a baby by him. The last time the old man saw her she was no longer a chicken wing but had gained weight and had a little junk in her trunk.
127 The tragedy of male-female relations
The real tragedy of black male/female relations is that if we have not processed our issues resulting from our addiction to white supremacy, even under the best of circumstances we cannot enjoy each other. Even when the pussy bill is paid (and the dick bill) there is often so much baggage from the past that no amount of money will suffice( the black bourgeoisie women live with golden handcuffs because even with money and material things, they are yet prisoners of love, abused and dominated like common ghetto nigguhs--some go it alone or have boy toys or girl toys) to allow the relationship to flourish, thus it stumbles and fumbles and the wrong words are said (the psycholinguistic crisis to fuck shit up--silence is golden and ESP) when everything should be beautiful, since money is not the problem. But, alas, up pop head trips, sex guilt, shame, trauma from past relationships, garbage that has not made it to the dustbin because people like to hold onto shit for dear life, but the result is dear death. As Dr. Hare says, no about of money, sex, drugs, religiosity can satisfy the social angst and shattered cultural strivings. We must liberate our consciousness then deal with liberating our reality. It is not a lost cause, just a long process back from the residue of slavery. Try another hundred years.
How many of us discover our bliss or true mission in life? We spend a lifetime dealing with family, children, job, but as Nancy Wilson sang, "I've never been to me...." When the Creator calls, we must answer or simply tread water until we drown because until we discover our true purpose in life no woman or man will suffice. And often our partner is going through the same process, trying to discover self since most of us do not examine self let alone study and recognize the self of our partner. See my poem You Don't Know Me. As for myself, I think I've destroyed enough women trying to be a lover, husband, partner when my mind, body and soul was always somewhere else. Mama said I didn't need a wife, rather a maid, secretary and mistress. I think I better spend the rest of my time on this earth expressing truth as I know it. Do I have seven more years to trip in a relationship filled with trauma and unresolved grief?
128 Email from Mama Ayana on the psycholinguistics of pussy
Mama Ayanna Mashama August 30 at 11:17am Reply
How come you call the black men brothers and the women they may be having sex with pussy? Could you call her sistar in the least (and don't come at me with I have an inferiority complex because I'm a woman who enjoys having sex with men :-).
Marvin X JackmonAugust 30 at 11:35am
Perhaps I suffer a psycholinguistic crisis. What do you think? And who is without sin up in here? You revolutionaries have no sense of humor--even the right wing is funny with their stupid shit. Yet you love that Tom Jones hit Hey Pussy Cat! You can call me Dick--it's OK--I'm not offended by anything coming out of people's mouth. I'm gonna laugh my way out of this sick society because it's really funny as hell to me. Wasn't slavery funny, sharks chasing Africans across the ocean, but the real sharks were on the ship as captain. And four centuries later we are the sardines still devoured by the sharks. But then, the day will come when the hunter is captured by the game. Ain't this funny?
Marvin X JackmonAugust 30 at 11:55am
I want to know why a man can't say what the fuck he want to say the way he want to say it? Do you tell Chris Rock or Cat Stevens to shut up and change their language. The real crime is that we speak English, this is the crime against humanity, but some want to nic pick and cherry pick and cotton pick the language of the devil, trying to purify it of its profanity and obscenity, which is impossible-- you can't take motherfucker out of the Motherfucker' s language, like trying to clean up the Catholic church of perverted priests--get rid of them and you have no Catholic church. Some of you act like the Puritans who came on the Mayflower instead of the Good Ship Jesus with Capt. John Hawkins of Amazing Grace fame.
As I've said in the Psycholinguistic Crisis of the North American African, the rappers have made millions for themselves and billions for the white man saying three words: bitch, ho and mothefucker. When we liberate ourselves from this hellhole, another language will be a necessary part of our liberation, until then we are stuck with the devil's tongue which we can redefine as part of our human right to self determination. Until then, I suggest silence and ESP--yes, the devil is in the language and you can't take him out.
If I said sister, some don't want to be called sister. Some don't want to be called queen.Some say they ain't African, that's a Latin term. So what are you, exactly, and when did we get a consensus on the matter. As Sun Ra said, "You're idea is not my idea of somebody else's world." I know I mis-quoted him, but you get the point.
129 Oakland Man Jacked in Sacramento for Copy of Mythology
An Oakland man made the mistake of showing his copy of Mythology of Pussy to a group of young black males. He said they read parts of the pamphlet and refused to give it back to him. They said he could leave the apartment where they were gathered, but they were not giving him back the controversial manual on manhood and womanhood training. Young black males claim they can "up their game" by reading the pamphlet.
In Oakland, psychologist Dr. Lige Dailey, drove his Cadillac convertible to Marvin X's outdoor classroom at 14th and Broadway to obtain his copy. Superior Court Judge Gordon Baranco got his on the way to court.
At Rite Aid Drug Store, a young clerk had three copies of Mythology stolen by co-workers. Marvin gave her another copy and told her to take it home and don't show it to anyone on the way home or when she gets home. Several people reported to Marvin how their friends stole their copy or took it from their house and refuse to return it.
The poet's micro-credit plan is still working. Persons without money get the pamphlet on credit. Every day people return with the five dollar donation. He received a $20.00 donation from someM
130 OPD swoop down on Marvin X behind MOPD
As Marvin X continued his literacy and educational campaign at the crossroads of Oakland, 14th and Broadway, he was suddenly surrounded by Oakland police who jumped out of three cars to see if he was passing out pornographic literature. At first the officers stopped another street brother for questioning. When he was found not to be on probation or parole and had no warrants, he was free to go, although he was told he looked like the guy who was shooting at them last night and they are watching him. Then the third police car arrived and the officer came to Marvin X, saying he had received a complaint someone was passing out porno. Marvin X's books were on display, including the "best seller" Mythology of Pussy. He asked the officer would he like a copy. The officer said no and didn't bother to peruse it. He turned to join his fellow officers who continued to chat for several minutes before departing.
Other than the visit by Oakland's finest--who now have a new police chief brought in from Long Beach, CA, Marvin had a good day at his outdoor classroom. One mother got Mythology for her daughters. Another woman got two copies, one to send to a cousin in Texas. Another mother told her daughter to see how much money she had. The girl said 75 cents. The mother said, "Give it to him. Do you see that lock on the cover?" She was referring to the cover art with the chastity belt.
When youth claim they have no money, not even a dollar, Marvin has an angel who promptly gives the poet a dollar. The angel tells the person he is willing to give a dollar to possibly save their life. Indeed, if one reads Mythology, it will help them in their male/female relations, making them understand patriarchal domination must be eradicated.
At Oakland Art and Soul festival last weekend, one woman told Marvin X she thoroughly enjoyed reading Mythology and was so happy to see a man saying the things Marvin said, some of which she had not heard before. Many young men are reading Mythology to "get up on their game." If they want more game, wait until they read his soon to be released The Wisdom of Plato Negro, A Hustler's Guide to Game.
131 Love is all there is
Yes, it's all there is
a little time shared
for a moment a forever
growing tension
Impatient
giving agape
unconditional
love
years of ignorance
love persisted
ordeal by fire
rituals of life
myths bound
we know the drill
the story
we live myth
extending time
infinite
joy love happiness
it comes
we blow it
blind
unsure
a child in the garden
dreaming
acting out the myths
what happened
manhood/womanhood training
we don't kill the lion
we kill each other
such is the ritual crucifixion
resurrection
ascension.
7-1-09
132 Michael Jackson and the SF Gay Pride Celebration
After spending the day at San Francisco's Gay Pride Celebration, it was disappointing to hear gays and lesbians say they didn't like Michael because he was a pedophile. I found their attitude shocking since when did they gain the moral ground above Michael?
If we consider gay and lesbian behavior based on the moral standard of the Bible, they stand condemned along with Michael. And who is to say Michael's behavior should not come to be recognized as "legal," or even consummated with marriage? If you believe in freedom for all, how can you deny Michael? If he or anyone else wants to marry a tree, who can object, especially gays and lesbians. I love prostitutes and feel prostitution should be legal. Freedom for everyone or freedom for nobody. Let's continue this moral hypocrisy in everyone, gays, lesbians, Christians, Muslims, Communists, and Atheists. The governor of South Carolina is about to lose his head because he had a lover outside of marriage. Should such behavior be allowed even though the Bible condemns adultery? If he thinks he needs another woman, why should he be denied--especially when the biblical prophets had all the wives they wanted whenever they wanted.
With respect to gays and lesbians, we saw today the high numbers of young people attracted to that lifestyle. Whatever we think about that lifestyle, do we not owe our children unconditional love as human beings in search of their sexual identity? In most cases, we have not provided them with manhood and womanhood training so they could advance into manhood and womanhood without gender confusion. We let them go through trial and tribulation without saying a word except words of condemnation. We show them no love and understanding, when clearly many of they have suffered sexual abuse at the hands of family members and friends, turning them out to the gay or lesbian lifestyle.
And I am convinced the water and food is turning many children gay and lesbian due to the steroids and growth hormones recycled in the water and injected into the food by the petrochemical industry. I can accept that some children may be born than way, and we know they can become persons of great genius, especially in the arts and literature, but other fields as well.
Are we going to show unconditional love to everyone or be selective and hypocritical? And are we going to condemn the evil in another's eyes yet deny the evil in our own?
Betty Shabazz (may she rest in peace) said, "Find the good and praise it." Sometimes I can be hypercritical, but I try to check myself.
I say Michael Jackson was indeed the King of Music in his era and beyond as we shall see. His personal behavior on the sexual level did not bother me as much as his addiction to white supremacy, evident by his desire to be white. But as my colleague, Ptah Allah El noted in his analysis of the Thriller album, perhaps Michael was trying to tell us of his unfortunate transformation into a werewolf as the result of being a man in this society, a black man. Every black man who has tried to rise up has been destroyed, from slavery resisters such as David Walker, Nat Turner, Denmark Vesey, Gabriel Prosser to Jack Johnson, W.E.B. Dubois, Marcus Garvey,
Paul Robeson, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr. Shall we not await the coming destruction of President Obama?
And so America has a way of making us all sick, especially the most talented. Baldwin said it's a wonder we all haven't gone stark raving mad. So it is not surprising we all suffer some degree of moral degeneration and sexual pathologies, from rape, incest, physical abuse, and murder. Consider the roots of this society; consider the founding fathers who were themselves kidnappers, rapists and sexual abusers and most of all, terrorists , and such behavior went on throughout slavery into post-slavery with lynching done in the name of Jesus Christ. And today the jails and prisons, including the juvenile jails, are hell holes where inmates are traumatized and terrorized, including slave labor and forced feeding, not to mention the unjust application of the death penalty for blacks and other minorities, including poor whites.
The contributions of Michael Jackson should help put him in perspective of a soul who did all he could do with what he had to work with. We must now ask ourselves what contribution will we make, especially considering what we have to work with and what negative things have occurred in our lives to destroy our mental, physical and spiritual health.
133 Beyond Myth
Myth is all there is, like air, without myth we cannot breathe, therefore we die. Myth is the essence of religion. There are no rituals without myth--myth is the story, the word, hence the foundation of ritual. We take the myth and create the drama as in the original Osirian drama of resurrection, first the story then the enactment of the story, followed by the absorption of myth into the social-psychology of a people.
Myth then becomes the foundation of culture, the purpose of existence and the goal of after-life. Yes, culture is all that we do but all that we do is based on the myths we live by.
When we suggest transcending myth it is an awesome challenge to the psyche and thus to the society. What white person wants to give up the myth of white supremacy. It is the essence of their being. Shall they become black? But black is not simply a color, it is a culture that is bound by myth as well. When we suggest giving up myth, we realize the task is daunting, for what shall a person stand upon, what rock, what reality?
We want the schools to change but again it shall involve dismantling the American mythology, all the lies, stories, dreams, holidays, statues, images, symbols that abound the society--in short, a decolonialization must occur—or call it detoxification.
The teachers cannot teach a different way because they are victims of myth as well, trapped in their madness which is the essence of all they have been taught and certified to teach.
The black American psychologists are grappling with the problem of myth as I write. At their last national conference in Oakland they spoke about casting out Eurocentric psychology and returning to the ancient African healing philosophy. They want to transcend European psychotherapy for a more holistic approach that will embrace the entire being of the spiritually ill person, for sure, the mental is related to the physical to the social to the political to the economic.
But as with education, how shall the mental health workers get certified to teach African healing when they have been trained in Eurocentric psychology? And what is the mythological foundation of African healing? Imagine throwing out white education, but the question is can they heal the black mind with white psychology? As much as we applaud the psychotherapeutic peer group approach, prescribed in my manual How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy, even the peer group is not sufficient unless the group bonds together in a holistic manner to overcome the myriad ills due to oppression.
The myth of love is an example of how we are entrapped in mythology. Love becomes an ever changing illusion based on materialism and economic security, thus it is a physical thing that in the end causes us to cry, "What does love have to do with it?" But in reality love is all there is. God is Love! Yet we spend a lifetime seeking that which is our essence. Surely we must be on the wrong path or in the wrong house of love. And after a lifetime with the beloved, we wonder was it in vain, a waste of energy, a pitiful existence with a beloved who hated our guts, was jealous, envious, greedy, yet this was our mate, this was us.
And so detoxification is in order to begin our recovery from sick mythology. We resist and deny anything is amiss but we must summon the strength to make a change, to jump out the box toward a brighter day. We fight leaving the comfort zone for it is all we know, like the slaves upon emancipation: where shall we go, what shall we do without the master? He was our everything, our god, our lover, our enforcer, our rapist even. But deconstructing alien mythology is the only way out, just as the dope fiend must stop using dope upon the pain of death. Now some choose death, the die-hards who claim dope is the best thing that ever happened to them. So they are not satisfied until they fall into the pit.
The society addicted to sick mythology is no better than the common dope fiend. It is determined to commit mass suicide. America is not alone in this manner. It is the same with Israel, North Korea, Iran and elsewhere. Mythology (call it ideology if you wish) will be the final determinant of the political actions in the above nations. Will they transcend their mythology and live or persist in their inordinacy until they die?
The sooner we get beyond myth into a progressive, radical and revolutionary state of mind, the better we shall all be. But it would be a step forward if we simply stopped believing in the superiority of myth. This notion of superiority is probably worse than the myth itself. The myth of white supremacy is no better or worse than other myths, but the problem is when whites want to spread their myth and force it upon others who have their own mythology. As far as I am concerned, let the whites in the American south keep their confederate flag, just don’t subject it upon me and my people. Keep that shit in yo house, your church or wherever you dwell and I don’t. And if I fly the Star and Crescent, leave me the hell alone.
But let’s go deeper into the world of myth for a story is composed of words, thus we must consider linguistics or language when attempting to transcend myth, for the devil is in the language. We may therefore find ourselves in need of a new language in order to transcend myth, for we speak a mythical language, and just as we do not understand the mythology, we do not understand the language. To have a common language suggests we have agreed upon definitions, but again, what do you mean by love, and are you prepared to love your enemy? Can you love yourself, and who or what is yourself? Who is the black self, what is it? We grappled with this problem in the 60s in trying to define a black esthetic. What is beauty and truth to us? Suddenly the Negro was ugly and black was beautiful, and for a moment there was a consensus and a people moved forward. And then came the breakdown and the consensus was gone. The natural hair style was no longer en vogue. Ugly became beautiful. Ugly was freedom, although we never got a consensus on what freedom meant, nor do we have one today. What is freedom to you is not freedom to me. You say freedom is a job, and that’s the totality of your freedom. Other people fight for land, natural resources, self determination, but you say just give you a job and you are satisfied.
So how can we unite? You say freedom is having sex between persons of the same sex. Nothing else matters to you in life. But we ask what does sex have to do with it? Were you put aboard the slave ships so you could have sex with the same gender loving persons, is this why your ancestors suffered in the cotton and cane fields, was it for sexual freedom, or what is possibly something that went far beyond pussy and dick, getting a nut in the dark or in some alley, bathroom, park?
Again, we need to define some terms before we can move forward into the new era. Let’s list some terms and define them—and how can we do this when terms are ever shifting, for language is dynamic and fluid, Negro, Colored, black, African, Bilalian, Moorish, et al. We are forever changing our identity because we cannot come to a consensus as a people. At least the white people know they are white, they may not know anything else, but they know they are white.
You don’t know if you are black or white, man or woman—for the sands are constantly shifting under your feet—the result of your insecurity, personal and communal. It is an identity crisis of the most profound degree imaginable.
So myth is composed with language, from myth to ritual, from ritual to reality, but language is the foundation.
The child’s world only becomes real when it takes command of its “mother tongue.” Within the mother tongue is myth which is composed of surface and deep structure terminology and meaning, the said and the unsaid, the seen and the unseen.
We are that child that has yet to master language, hence our world is chaos without solid, safe and secure definitions, leading us not to know what is real and unreal, a confusion of self and kind. We are not certain our brother is a friend or foe. We are not sure if our mate is friend or foe, lover or hater. In a moment of passion we may hear words we never thought was in the heart of our lover, or we may use such words ourselves. Now there is more doubt and insecurity in an already fragile relationship, that more than likely originated in lust rather than anything that can be called love.
And so we see the task before us, a psycho-linguistic mythological conundrum that will take centuries to resolve since in the global village our mythology is bound with other mythological tribes and nations, some of which seek our life blood.
We may be forced out of our slumber to shed the old raggedy clothes of worn out mythology, whether religious or political, sexual or social. Elijah told us the wisdom of this world is exhausted—one need only look around and listen to the language, the babble blowing in the wind, in spite of all the technology, all the human advancement. Surely, in spite of it all, reverse evolution has set in, a kind of atrophy, a freezing of the mental apparatus, a paralysis of thought while the very hour challenges us with the need for grand vision to make that great leap forward into the new millennium.
134 Dr. Nathan Hare and Marvin X enjoy trout in memory of Dr. Julia Hare
Earlier this week Dr. Nathan Hare called to inform me the love of his life, Dr. Julia Hare, had passed away in her sleep at their apartment on San Francisco's Jackson Street, where they'd resided since 1973. Dr. Hare was waiting for the coroner to arrive to take away his wife of 62 years. When I asked if he wanted me to come over, he replied it was not necessary. I said OK, Doc, I'll let you catch your breath. A day or so later I called to ask if I could take him to breakfast on Friday, March 1st.? He said yes. I don't know why I told him breakfast when I usually have breakfast between three and five in the morning. But most often when I tell Dr. Hare I will come see him in the morning, usually around ten or eleven A.M., I will leave from Oakland around five or six to avoid the impossible morning traffic across the Bay Bridge than can take 45 minutes to get to the toll gate. So I would get to the city and kill time until my appointment with the esteemed sociologist and clinical psychologist, aka, father of black and ethnic studies in America, who was removed for his black radicalism from Howard University and San Francisco State University, where his controversial chairmanship of Black Studies ignited the longest student strike in American academic history, 1968.
Dr. Julia Hare
Classic Black Woman like no other
Let a thousand years produce another Julia
Stand by your man 62 years
Often I would kill time drinking coffee at Peet's on upper Fillmore, not far from the Hare's Jackson street apartment in the Russian Hill diplomatic neighborhood. I would sometimes enjoy a slice of banana nut bread. But there were also times when I would kill time by driving to Ocean Beach through Golden Gate Park to absorb the greenery and Pacific ocean. I could have gone to the ocean this morning but I had a thought that I would take Dr. Hare to the ocean to enjoy the blessings of Oshun and Yemanja, in the Yoruba tradition.
So even though I had breakfast around three a.m., I did not rush to the City since I had made a tentative appointment with someone between ten and eleven, but I was conflicted since I also knew between ten and eleven is a good time to cross the bridge because the traffic is momentarily better at this hour. Most of the wage slaves have made it to work by this time. I decided to delay the ten a.m. appointment and go for the bridge. I was in luck or shall I say I followed my first mind, entering the route to the bridge from West Grand Avenue, my favorite route to San Francisco.
Once I got pass the toll gate and onto the bridge, I called Dr. Hare to tell him I was en route. He informed me he was in the shower but would come downstairs when I was outside. When I got outside and called him, he said he was coming right down but took an inordinate time so I called him again as I was sitting outside.
I was getting a little nervous sitting outside Dr. Hare's apartment in this exclusive white neighborhood since on past occasions when I had him come downstairs and we talked in my car, he told me to lower my voice because the white people might get upset at the noise. And on an occasion when I brought him some money owed for sale of his books and gave it to him, he said don't do this like this because the white people might think we are exchanging dope money. I thought to myself the Doc might be a little paranoid, though I know full well we have been under surveillance the last 400 years. It is not paranoia when people are watching and you know they are watching you! Another of my San Francisco ancestors, mentors, Alonzo Harris Batin, said, "If we had done what the white man did to us, we would be watching him closely too for the Big Payback!" Is this not one reason the white woman will secure her purse when she sees a "Negro" a block away or on the elevator alone?
Finally, Dr. Hare came outside with a walker. I didn't know he had a walker, and insisted he needed no assistance because he could handle the walker better by himself and thus insure he didn't fall. He mentioned how many elders die after falling. I joked seriously that I have "No fall insurance," i.e., I know if I fall it will take a long time to heal. Young people can fall and keep moving on but not seniors.
I let get into the car by himself as I put his walker in the btparack seat. He wanted to go to the bank so I took him there but when he was taking rather long, I went inside to find him at the Versateller. I needed some cash so I used the one beside him. I immediately he was having problems negotiating his cash but I was too. I was putting my card in the wrong way and he was doing something wrong and decided to use mine after my cash was dispensed. I got my cash and told him I would be outside waiting. After a time, he did not appear so I went for him but he wasn't at the Versateller so I assumed he was inside the bank handling his business. I returned to my car. As I sat in my waiting, a white man entered the parking lot looking at me as if he suspected I might be a bank robber since I backed into the parking space backwards. Then another "colored person" saw how I parked and parked the same way, so perhaps a black man and colored man were both bank robbers, although I never saw the white depart the bank parking lot. I guess the "colored man" parking the same way as I did cooled the white man out that we were not bank robbers! What a day in the motherfuckin USA!
Dr. Hare finally returned from the bank and said we could go to breakfast except he needed to go to his house to meet Meals On Wheels, then when in the car he got a call from them and told them he was ok for the day, thus we were now free to do our thang.
I wanted to take him to a Black place to eat, but when I Googled such I found nothing open until later in the afternoon. I told him I will drive down Geary Blvd where I used to eat with Eldridge Cleaver after he returned from exile, where he used to order Pigs in a Blanket. I knew the place was now run by Orientals and Doc remembered the place where he used to eat as well, but when we arrived it was shuttered and a homeless person was sitting outside. So we drove down Geary toward Ocean Beach and we saw a Thai Cafe. He said let's go there as he preferred Thai food rather than Chinese. I agreed because Thai is more spicy than Chinese but when I turned the block and parked we were closer to Mel's Diner so we went into Mel's and when I saw the menu with their Trout Special, I told Doc that's what I wanted and he wanted the same, so we ordered Trout with mixed vegetables and rice pilaf.
After coffee, the meal arrived and Doc said, "Meals on Wheels don't serve no spread like this!" Indeed, the Trout covered the plate and I devoured it as Trout is my favorite fish. And rich my favorite dish since my father was from Kentucky's rice country. We ate rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I saw that Dr. Hare left an ample serving of rice on his plate long after I had devoured all my rice and I wanted to tell him to give me his but I was silent. After all, I was not starving from my three a.m., breakfast.
My ten a.m. appointment was calling as well as a San Francisco appointment. I told them I would be dropping Dr. Hare off at his apartment and would connect with them ASAP. But Oshun and Yemanya were calling me, telling to bring Dr. Hare to the ocean, and so I did, driving out Geary Blvd. to Ocean Beach, and as I neared the ocean, Dr. Hare suddenly came alive, especially when we got to the Cliff House Restaurant, which I could have taken him for our repast if I had known his past with Julia in the area. I did not know they had lived in the area until we arrived and Dr. Hare came alive with memories of eating at the Cliff House and jogging on the beach, and their apartment nearby with the fireplace where they enjoyed wine time after time, lovers for life!.
We parked at the beach looking out at the ocean. He continued telling me his memories with Julia when they lived in the area. We drove around searching for the place where they used to live but couldn't find it, although Dr. Hare has fond memories where the Fat Lady used to laugh, and the apartment where he and Julia used to drink wine and look into each other's eyes with love and passion that lasted for Black eternity.
I told Doc of my eating at the Cliff House and I would have brought him there today if I had known it was a favorite spot of theirs, after all, my undercover project was only to bring him to the ocean. I informed him during my recovery from Crack cocaine I used to come to Ocean Beach and jump into the freezing cold water as part of my recovery. I used to tell my associates who wanted to converse with me to come to the beach near Cliff House and meet me in the water which they did. It was my therapy, yes, I would go from Ocean Beach freezing water to the Berkeley hot tub on University Ave. to facilitate my recovery. It was after my session in the hot tub on University and taking the 88 Bus home that I discovered my partner had joined the ancestors where I passed her house on Harmon Street and saw her car parked that I knew something was wrong since she was a teacher and her car was parked outside her house during school hours, plus her car was dirty when I knew she kept it washed and clean.
I say this to say I know as I never got over the loss of my love, I know Dr. Hare may never get over the loss of Julia, most surely after 62 years. During our trout dinner, he repeated how he fought to keep her from confinement that her friends and relatives only knew to do. He said today and many times before today, "I didn't know how to confine the woman I loved for 60 plus years. I didn't know how, no matter how her relatives and friends persisted in their abysmal ignorance of love.
On the way home from Ocean Beach that Amelia Ashley, Publisher of the San Francisco Sun Reporter Newspaper and close friend of Julia was publishing an article in her paper next week and was organizing a memorial for Julia at San Francisco's Third Baptist Church on March 30, 2019. He told me to proceed with the memorial I planned to do in Oakland at Geoffery's Inner Circle at which I will announce the date. "Go ahead and do what you want to do, Marvin, because the Third Baptist celebration will not be the same crowd that will come to the celebration you organize in Oakland.
Indeed, the Oakland Celebration of Dr. Julia Hare must be an inter-generational discussion. The Hip Hop generation, especially the young women, must know the greatness of Dr. Julia Hare, a model for them to emulate in the tradition of Harriet Tubman.
But Dr. Nathan Hare made it clear to me Julia did not start out as a revolutionary or radical, rather she was of black bourgeoisie origins and opposed his radical notions until he radicalized her consciousness. Dr. Hare said to me that she was not a scholar but a speaker and he wrote the books under their joint title. For sure, Julia was the speaker, Nathan the writer supreme, the English major taught by the subject of the film Great Debaters, Melvin B. Tolson. Nathan informed me he had tried to enroll in the creative writing program at San Francisco State University, although they rejected him because he was too old at 24 years of age. Marvin X, who received his B.A. and M.A. in English/Creative Writing from San Francisco State University, told Dr. Hare, "Doc, I knew of many black writers at SFSU who were rejected and some, especially sisters, who suffered mental depression when told they didn't have the qualities to be a writer."
Such is the American academic educational system as per North American Africans. FYI, when I submitted my thesis for the Masters Degree, my thesis adviser approved it but refused to sign it because he didn't like my subject matter, a dramatic script on the SLA, i.e., the kidnapping of Patty Hearst based on first hand information. He said he didn't want the FBI coming to him asking about me.FYI, I obtained my Masters in one semester! Check my transcript!
I dropped Dr. Hare at his apartment, connected with my appointment in San Francisco in the Fillmore where a brother Johnnie Burrell told me I could get a copy of the Sun Reporter Newspaper with Dr. Julia Hare on the front page, then I made my way across the bridge to a meeting in Berkeley and navigated the rush hour traffic to my hovel in Oakland, up the street from Lake Merritt.
On March 30, San Francisco will celebrate the life of Julia Hare at Third Baptist Church. Soon after Oakland will celebrate Julia at Geoffery's Inner Circle, an inter-generational celebration with the Black Arts Movement and the Hip Hop Generation. Call 510-575-7148 for more information.
--Marvin X
3/1/1
135 Toward A Post-feminist/Post Crack Definition of Bitch
Rashidah Mwongozi Defines Bitch
Every woman should be a bitch because a bitch is only a woman who has come into her own power. You are not a bitch until you take a stand for yourself. Once you take a stand and refuse to take any and all bullshit tossed your way, you are a bitch. A bitch is a woman of power.
What I mean is this: there are those women among us who do not experience being called a bitch until we do the unexpected in order to change a static situation, like changing the locks, putting offending person's belongings out in the elements, refusing to continue to be misused and abused.
As soon as a female takes a stand for her Self that is when any and all offending parties can't get "Bitch" out of their no good mouths fast enough! A female dog, a bitch, does not allow every male to get at her...she will turn her hind quarters to a wall and fight when certain males do not come correct. So when BS comes at us, we have to guard our treasures and fight like a bitch against any and all abuse/misuse regardless of the source, male, female, children, friends, whoever dare be so bold!
--Rashidah Mwongozi
Deedrah Smallwood on Bitch
I'm not into the word "Bitch" However, the way it was presented to me by Rashidah, I truly can relate.. We all know the word exists, but I never looked at the word "Bitch" from this perspective. Uncle Marvin, please don't get me wrong: I will NEVER allow another person to call me a BITCH.. If by chance they merely whispered it under their breath, I would refer to this dialog on being a BITCH! Lol
--Deedrah
Marvin X replies to Deedrah
Well, Deedrah, the party done got started up in here. Rashidah may need more sisters to support her definition, otherwise she is going to issue a disclaimer. "You know Marvin X is crazy--he put those words in my mouth. My friends know I don't talk like that."
Rasheedah Sabreen Mwongozi
Marvin X is crazy--he put words in my mouth. My friends know I don't talk like that." LOL!
Adaoma Defines Bitch
A Bitch is a dog of the female gender. Nothing human. What others may call you or may call Rashidah is not who you are! They don't define you! You don't define me. I define me. So, when the Black inhabitants of Soweto were being called Kafirs, the Tutsi were being called cockroaches and sassy, uppity working class Black women like me are being called "Bitch" and "Akata" by "Africans" (like Val Ojo) worshipped by "Niggas" on the net like Ali and Erving....they were not defining us. Please note, that you, Gerald Ali and Craig Erving condone the use of the word "Nigga"...poetic license or something.
I have not called them "Niggas", they have approved the us of it. So, no...women are not Bitches...to answer your question.
Adaoma
Marvin X Defines Bitch
Not long ago, I heard rappers discussing their tour of Italy. Upon arriving at the airport, the first thing they heard Italian youth discussing was how many "Bitches" they had, obviously influenced by hip hop culture or shall we say specifically gansta rap--yeah, ganstas who when caught are ignorant of a preliminary hearing. But let us deconstruct the controversial term BITCH.
Besides Nigger or Nigguh, no other term has caused more controversy of late, no other term has created a crisis situation among North American Africans, prompting the Million Man Marchers to vow never to use the term again. They claimed it demeaned the black woman, the mother of civilization.
My personal view is that crack culture demeaned the black man and women to the extent that the term "bitch" has taken on new meaning and now refers to both male and female, and a discussion of the term cannot be limited to the feminine gender. Youth in the dope culture will quickly address a tweeking, fumbing OG as "punk bitch." For example, to a male they will say, "Punk-bitch, you better take this dope and get the fuck up outta here wit da quickness."
This sentence is most indicative of the psycholinguistic crisis because it reveals the utter destruction of filial piety (respect or duty of children to elders) in the North American African community. When adults began buying crack from children, children saw the utter weakness in the older generation and lost total respect which was expressed in verbal denunciations such as "punk bitch."
In my recovery drama ONE DAY IN THE LIFE, a youth confronts the late Huey Newton and myself with the following words as we sat in a West Oakland crack house: "Yeah, you nigguhs is dope fiends, you ain't no revolutionaries, so don't say shit to me bout no program. How you gon buy dope from me and my podnas--I mean, I'm in recovery now but when I was a dealer, you couldn't come to me and tell me you some revolutionaries--you some punk-bitch nigguhs. When you get your shit together we'll have some respect fa ya, but until then, don't talk to us bout no revolution, O.G., cause if I saw ya comin on my turf, I'd make a movie out that ass, podna. Don't be no walkin contradiction ma nigguhs."
My associate, J.B. Saunders, asked me to include a word-picture of male "bitch behavior" as expressed in the crack ritual. An example of this comes from the observation of monkeys when the female is ready to present herself to the male. She will go to a corner of a cage or by a tree and expose her rear end to the male, letting him know he can come and get her or know her as the Bible says. In the crack house, the male bitch will expose his posterior in his ritual of crawling on all fours around the room, supposedly looking for crack, but mainly picking up lint and other particles, even chips of dry wall.
The ultimate expression of male bitch behavior is the so-called straight guy who under desperation, i,e., when the tweeking ritual is exhausted, will present his posterior to the dope dealer--accompanied with the words "I'll do anything for another hit," and perform homosexual acts to obtain more crack, but in his psycho-linguistic crisis he adamantly denies he is gay, all the while swallowing the dope dealer's penis and cum.
The worse bitch in the world is the bitch in denial! And even that bitch will--in a moment of scandalous activity declare, "I know I'm a bitch." I have a friend for whom to call her a bitch is a fight, but I have heard her call her children bitches in a moment of passion or anger.
But why bitch? My views on the matter are prejudiced by the fact that I grew up in a house with six sisters who referred to themselves as bitches--and I must say, many times acted like bitches, if we mean behavior unbecoming a woman--such behavior being acceptable only during PMS or pregnancy!
Among males is it demeaning to say, "That's a fine bitch!" But again, after the Crack era, males are now bitches more than ever. We know words only have the power we give them, i.e., we define words. Bourgeoisie culture cannot define mass culture or the culture of the grass roots. A rich man cannot tell a poor man what to say. If a rich man comes to the poor man's community, he better talk like a poor man or he may be a dead man!
136 Parable of a nigga’s ass
One day Plato Negro was at his Academy of DaCorner, 14th and Broadway, the cross roads of Oakland. A young man came up and verbally assaulted the street professor, sticking his finger in the face of the old man, telling him he would smoke him if he did not remove the picture of his ass on the cover of his latest book Pull Yo Pants Up fada Black Prez and Yoself.
Plato Negro told the youth his picture is in the public domain, thus free for anyone to use. Furthermore, is he threatening to smoke the white man who runs Internet?
The mad youth told Plato Negro if he returned and his picture was still on the cover of his book he would smoke him.
Plato Negro seems to have a problem with photos of Negroes. A young lesbian wanted to kill him a few months ago because her picture appeared in his book with actor John Amos. Now John was not upset about his pic, but baby girl wanted to kill Plato because he used her pic to headline an article in his book The Wisdom of Plato Negro. He deleted the pic from his book after learning her brother had come to his Academy of Da Corner to kill him but started crying and could not pull the trigger. Plato was trying to promote the young lady, a singer, who had toured the east coast with him and attended a production of his play Salaam, Huey Newton, Salaam at Woody King's New Federal Theatre.
On this day, the youth claimed his ass was copyrighted! He was a rapper and his ass was on the cover of his CD.
You know we youngsters don't give a fuck bout you OG's, we'll smoke you in a minute, you know dat, right?
Plato Negro looked at the little snotty nose child. He could have smashed his nose into the ground, being the suppressed killer Plato Negro is known to be. Writing is merely a disguise and diversion to keep a killer from spreading blood on the streets of Oakland!
Plato endured the dissing by his child.
Plato Negro told his child I can kill you as quickly as you can kill me.
Two OG's stood by while the youth ranted. I know you brothers would smack this youth.
Plato Negro's brother, who often sits in Academy of Da Corner, would kill the youth once he said he was goin ta smoke him. Plato's brother is that kind of fellow. You say you gonna smoke him, well, he go smoke you first.
But Plato had a different mission.
I have come to save youth, not kill them, therefore, I shall not fight them or abuse them, for they are my children, and I shall honor them, respect them, and not neglect them!
I am patient, there is no rush, I live in the no stress zone.
The young man went away but came back a few minutes later.
He said OG, I'm sorry I got up in yo face like dat. Please forgive me!
Plato forgave him.
OG you can use my picture of my ass.
Plato Negro said thank you, youngster. I love you. You are my child. I love you.
--Marviv X
7/27/10
137 How to love a thinking woman
Make love to her mind
Treasure that she has a mind
Precious and whole, holy
Up from slavery
from negrocities
Of every kind
Low life, rot gut, rat level
let her know
Lick her all over
thrill her with original thoughts/actions
Be revolutionary, radical, bodacious
Stay beyond the common
Have some class about yaself
With the classic lady
Wearing a mind of her own
So you too
Be unusual
Say unusual things
Beyond I love you baby
***** and **** kindergarten games
With bling bling on your minus brain brain
Say I love you too
But show it
talk is cheap
Better to show her your love
Or she will think about you and wonder
Say things
She's never heard before
Ihdhina sirata al mustaqim (guide us on the straight path)
Make her laugh til she comes in panties
With serious jokes to get her mind off the world
Never let her figure you out
Be always a mystery
When she figures you out you're through
Don't be that dumb
A thinking woman is not a man
Need not be lesbian or bisexual
but if she is lost and turned out
twisted, mannish, computer down
make her party with you and her girls
If she's really a thinking woman
She wants a man of superior thinking
Not a dummy
Unread, illiterate, ignut ******
Who wants her cause she fine
But don't have a clue bout her mind
And never will in a thousand years
So he gets her drawers
And babies come
But he never grows like the babies
And wants her to shut up
Don't think at all
Don't figure him out
Mr. Mystery who ain't no mystery
A very well known type
Easily cast for a B movie
Yet trying to ride first class
Without a ticket
Without a thought of his own
Holding on for dear life
With the thinking woman
Who tells him nightly of world events
He cares nothing about
Or even black art on the wall
He tears down before you call 911
After he punched a hole in the wall
Because he disagreed with your
Independent thought not from the Masjed
Since he's so sunni beyond sunni
Won't be a Shia to save his punk *** life
fundamental islam might make him the revolutionary man he vows never to be
since he might have to think beyond traditional myth and ritual.
Unless he goes to school somewhere
Besides the ignut barber shop and ignut prison
Although prison is no sin
Unless he makes it his home
And comes out with AIDS
Swearing he ain't gay.
The cellie who sucked his **** was a woman
He swears.
Listen to another thinking woman
Your other girlfriend maybe
Who might have a similar thought
And probably will
About the world
Don't be shocked she has the same thoughts
Your main woman has
Same spiritual ideas
Actually, they go to the same new thought church,
So yes, they think the same,
amazed
Surprised at this double trouble
Or is it double truth
Ain't but one thought, really
You simple minded rappin *** ******
Rhyming like you in kindergarten
Real poetry don't rhyme,
I thought you knew
One Mind, One Truth, One Thought
let her know you love her
As she ponders the universe
Don't disturb her quiet moments
In her study
her prayer and meditation
Searching new thought from old truths.
If you know everything she knows
Shut the **** up and pretend
Learn how to act with the thinking woman
Walk her walk, talk her talk
If you know better, act like she's the genius
She ain't always wrong
And most of the time she right
If you touch her right
Even in her thinking mode
She will scream into the night
And be amazed at the reality of love
How in the hell did you figure out how to
Rock her world?
She had it all together til you came or made her come
As it were
Now her thoughts are all discomposed, shattered like glass
And when you want to beat her
Because her thoughts overlap her lips
Beat her with your mind
Or slap her with your penis even
Across her mouth
She will be amazed at your ingenuity.
We are merely free slaves
One generation away
My grandfather was a cotton picker
My mother was a cotton picker
Even I was a cotton picker
Up from slavery
Never forget the pain of ancestors
Distant and present
The whip, the rape of men and women
The bloody abortion of children
Never forget and always know
We are in the land of murderers
And the children of murderers
Think about it
and never think
This is some heaven on earth
For it is surely hell until
The hour of freedom
Until we think in unity
And rise
Man and woman
In unity
Beyond murder
Beyond hell
Beyond ignorance and fear
Beyond gender hatred
To the region forbidden to all but the true
So climb the mountain together
Man and woman thinking
Into the ripples of the pond
Climb atop the green hills
Sit by the ancient tree and consider
All the beauty, all the blessings
For all the labor and pain
And in enjoy the wealth
Of your woman's mind
Enjoy the pleasure of her womb
And be true to her and yourself
And welcome each other into the valley of peace
Where the lake of love awaits thinkers
Of every kind
Let the Lord know you know Him and serve Him
Let Him bless you and rain love upon you in His name.
As-Salaam-Alaikum wa rhamatulahi wa barakatuhu.
Peace be unto you and the mercy of Allah and His blessings.
138 The other woman speaks
Yes, I’m his other woman.
The invisible woman.
I love him
Just as much as she loves him
Maybe more
Cause I don’t know how much she loves him, anyway.
But I love him too!
She got papers on him
But papers don’t mean a damn thing to me
All I want is justice.
Nobody wants more than justice
And nobody wants less than justice
I want equality too.
I want equal time.
I told him to set up a schedule
And keep it.
I told him to be man enough
To tell his other woman
“Say, look, you are my woman
And she is my woman
I love both of you
It’s time we work together.”
He says he told her
He says he’s trying to break her in
Finessefully
I’m trying to be patient
Cause I ain’t going nowhere
Ain’t nowhere to go.
I’m sticking with my black man, my African man.
I been with this man off and on for 15 years
How long she been with him
What she know bout the man?
She damn sho don’t know much as I know
That’s the only reason I put up with him
Cause I know him so well.
But we should work together
Since we have the same interests and everything
Since we have so much in common
Don’t have me hating my sister
Don’t have my sister hating me
I’m bout progress
I’m willing to share him
Not because I just want to share somebody
But it just ain’t no men
You get with these men and they turn out to be punks.
Now what woman wants a punk?
Punk lookin for the same thing I’m looking for.
You know that’s a shame
So we lucky to have half a man these days
This must be the end of the world!
So like I say, I’m willing to share
We be sharing anyway
Tell the truth sisters
Your man is probably my man too!
Everything he do with you, to you and for you
He does with me, to me and for me
Let’s work together
Let’s help our men to be men
Especially those who want to be men.
That’s all I got to say.
139 Confession of a Polygamist
Yes, I have two wives
That’s right
Two mother-in-laws too!
Ain’t that a bitch!
And my wives love me
Even in my terribleness
They love me
Even though they hate each other
They love me
I just wish all that energy
They spend hating each other
I wish they would help me fight the devil
Help me make some money
I mean, I try to bring them in harmony
But what can you do with this
North American African woman?
All that ignorance, selfishness, possessiveness
They want you to lie and sneak around the alley
Well, I ain’t lying and I ain’t sneaking
You can call me nigguh, black, African, whatever
But I’m a man and I chart my course
I’m not following nobody’s agenda but mine
If these women want to get in harmony with me, fine
If they don’t, fine
But I’m not sneaking around like a dog
The Christian way is not my way.
To hell with monogamy!
One man one woman
That’s bullshit!
Now you tell me
What man only got one woman?
Does a man have one suit?
So many of our women don’t have no man
Now what if ten women were on an island
With one man
What would they do?
They would share him
Whether they liked it or not
And sister gonna have to do the same thing
Women don’t care if you married these days
They like it better if you are married
That’s what they’re lookin for
A married man!
But my hands are full
Two of these North American African women
Are enough for me
But women are so aggressive these days
They’ll rape you! That’s right
Sometimes I feel like the fireman
I go from house to house
Dashing flames, extinguishing passions and fears
There is no rest for me
Fire is everywhere.
140 Polygamy
Polygamy is for rich men who can maintain more than one woman. But it is not only financial but mental and spiritual as well. If you cannot practice
equality--and the Qur’an said you cannot--then don’t even try it. For
even the rich man dealing with the North American African woman can be
overwhelming. This is because we have in the North American African man
and woman two of the most hard headed humans God ever created.
The Negro (aka North American African) was actually created by the devil, and only through the process of decolonization can he begin to
heal and achieve spiritual maturity to have successful relationships. He
must work on himself until he reaches a certain level of spirituality,
then he can have one wife and after time, consider another wife.
But two hard headed Negroes can’t go around the corner. Although, two people of spiritual consciousness can go to the sky, especially if they
come together in truth.
If you want more than one woman, consider the cultural reality of a monogamous society, consider the mental trauma of your woman who has never heard of such a
lifestyle. She only knows of Nigguhs having another woman or baby’s
mamas. She knows about men lying and sneaking around for years, making
babies and keeping it secret, sometimes until his funeral when all the
women and children appear, some naturally demanding inheritance rights.
What about doing things in the name of truth. If you want peace rather than pure hell in your life, have agreement between you and your first wife.
And make sure she and the second wife can get along in harmony. No need
to set yourself up for hell. If the women don’t like each other don’t
force them to be together--rather, find her or better yet, let her find a
co-wife she can get along with, that she respects and who respects her.
You don’t want two or more women who don’t like each other, for one reason they will infect the children with negativity, jealousy and envy. This
can do permanent damage for years to everyone involved, especially the
children.
141 Eternal Woman speaks
I know the pain
Of love and hate
The happy hours
The long debates
Wanting to run
Wanting to stay
The lover’s kiss
And then to miss
The point of me
Rushing pass
To the point of you.
Eternal Man
What did you say?
Eternal Woman
You heard what I said.
Why didn’t you come home last night?
Eternal Man
Don’t be asking me why I didn’t come home. Matter of fact, don’t ask me shit. I’m a free man. I come and go as I please.
Eternal Woman
I’m tired of your shit.
Eternal Man (slaps her to floor)
Shut up bitch!
142 POLYANDRY
And what about polyandry or women with more than one man? Can you deal with that Mr. Big Time? If you truly love her you will deal with it as many
men have throughout time. And you will be happy about it because love is
a powerful force, a humbling force.
I’ve been the other man on more than one occasion in my life. One time I was in love with a prostitute who had a million men. And when she came home I
was happy as a puppy dog. From the beginning she let me know she was a
ho, so what part of ho didn’t I understand?
Since I loved her I finally accepted her as she was and stopped trying to act like she was my woman (see The Maid, The Ho, the Cook, In the Crazy
House Called America).
My prostitute was beautiful, intelligent and took care of me on time, everyday, which was why I loved her most of all, she was on time, she woke me up and put me
to sleep, somebody better get a healing up in here.
So one can deal with more than one woman or more than one man, just be honest and truthful, to hell with lying and sneaking around like a dog.
Sooner or later all things will be revealed and then someone is hurt. It
is not good to hurt people because it will come back on you--every dog
has his/her day.
In one of the current songs, the girl sings, “I’m a murderer. I know I’m hurting him. I might as well put a gun to his head….” She was sneaking around. So let’s get
out the garbage can.
We’ll be quite lucky to deal successfully with one partner. And how can you want two when you haven’t mastered one? Now there are some people who can’t deal with one
person at a time, so they think, they must have more than one. Whatever
works for you, go for it. Just make sure everybody’s happy and don’t
spread disease. Don’t be a murderer, physically or spiritually.
143 Creativity and Sexuality
Let me begin by saying I do not think this subject is gender specific: sexual energy does not discriminate. Cutting to the chase, there are male whores and female whores, or simply persons who are highly sexed. Even religious or spiritual persons can fit this mode, i.e., church ho's or mosque ho's. Their spirituality may enhance their sexuality, for ultimately sex is recognized as a spiritual experience, a way to merge with the Divine force, how else is that feeling of oneness derived, that moment when the lover and beloved transcend gender to become a force of spiritual energy, united in the oneness of bliss, in harmony with the Divine?
Should we be so presumptuous to think the artistic person is therefore more sexually driven than the average, normal Joe Blow? In spite of my artistic personality, I think Joe Blow is just as sexually driven as I was as a young man. All humans have this sexual urge, although some have a greater urge than others, and they can be artists, Joe Blows, workers, preachers, dancers, intellectuals, or anyone, depending on their bio-chemistry.
For the artist, the problem is distinguishing the sexual urge from the creative impulse. And there are those workaholics who rather work than fuck--they actually get a nut working, sex is simply not a major force in their lives, just as the artist would often rather create than have sex. Duke said music was his mistress, and this is probably so for every true artist.
Now there are artists who drown in sex and everything else but creativity, even after a lifetime of artistic training. Of course they are ultimately punished by the Creator for dissing Him/Her. Sex, drugs, gambling, employment (for fear of poverty) and other diversions only delay their day of judgment when the Creator shall ask them why they did not serve Him/Her with all their being, since they were blessed with certain talent yet were in denial, fear and refused to exercise the discipline to be their creative best. With their God given talent, they remained stuck on stupid, only now and then giving expression to their creative genius.
And yet we might be forced to examine which comes first, the chicken or the egg? For a long time I imagined I had a sexual addiction as part of my general addictive personality--no matter what endeavor, I would take things to the extreme, whether sexual, political, religious, economic, etc. Eldridge Cleaver was a similar personality. No matter what he engaged in, he gave his all, whether criminality, study or self education, right or left wing politics, religious endeavors and especially his sexual fantasies.
But as per myself, upon closer examination, I concluded my sexual energy was in reality creative energy that I was wasting in carnality. And yet the sexual energy was the catalyst for my creativity. In short, after sex, I was full of energy and ready to get out of bed to write late into the night. In despair, my lover would cry, "Where are you going?" Sadly and tragi-comically, all the time we were making love I was thinking about a poem!
Well, we learn in recovery that the chemicals that make us high are already in the brain cells, certain activity releases them and we feel "high." Drugs, dancing, sex, walking, cigaretts, all release the chemicals that get us "loaded." Sex was thus the drug that ignited my creative impluse.
My friends could not understand why I didn't want or need cocaine back in the day when sniffing was en vogue. But I was naturally speeding, so what could cocaine do for me? The coke needed to catch up with me! I preferred weed to calm me down. But only when I became older and my sexual urge declined somewhat that my creative energy soared, to the degree that I preferred being creative rather than making love, although I still like pussy, but I'm full of "sex guilt" for wasting so much of my life pursuing sex when I should have been more creative and productive, not to mention the twelve years as a dope fiend on Crack.
Rather than twenty books, I should have written fifty or a hundred by now. I got stuck in the pussy and in relationships, including marriages, trying to be somebody's lover, partner and husband. I do not think I was ever a lover, partner or husband. I pretended to be and did a pitiful and miserable job of it. Ask my ex-lovers! I was no huband or father, didn't give a damn about any of that, only on the surface, but in the deep structure of my mind was the creative impulse, overriding everything else to the degree that I should have never married, although I do appreciate the women and children in my life. How they tolerated me, I don't know.
Mama said I was not the type of man she would have around her. And she said I definitely did not need a wife, maybe a secretary, maid and mistress, but not a wife. Maybe she recognized my creative essence and could see I was good for nothing else.
I have come to agree with her. We know Mom's always right. Of course I ignored her and got married numerous times, and all my marriages failed, simply because my mind wasn't there. It was up in the sky or somewhere. And so the failures were all my fault, the women were almost perfect in their love, loyalty and royal treatment of me. I am probably one of the most spoiled men in the world. Women should not spoil a man, only if they get reciprocity or get spoiled in return. How ironic that my favorite song is Nature Boy with the line, "The greatest thing you will ever learn is to love and be loved in return." What a wonderful lesson, and yet what relevance does it have for the creative personality?
I am willing to love, yet the creative urge dominates. At this point, does it matter if I love or not. In the end, does it matter if am remembered as a loving partner or husband, or will not the ultimate question be, "Did he get his life's work accomplished?" Does the world--not that we should be overly concerned with the world--give a damn about my personal life or my creative life? There are those who can't stand me as a person but love my creativity. Do we give a damn about how Miles Davis treated his women, or do we love and cherish the music of Miles Davis?
145 How to love a thinking man
Love him from a distance
Not close up and personal
From across the street
Across the country
Not across the table
Rarely in bed
For he is not
In the covers
Beneath the sheets
Only his body
Rarely his mind
It is gone among the stars
Somewhere into yesterday and tomorrow
Not in the here and now
A future vision or two or three
Ever restless
In motion beyond his own being
Most certainly yours
Poor thing you
Dreaming of a man
Thinking of a capture
A traditional marriage
With dead gods and dead ancestors
No jumping the broom here
Moments of romantic love
Not with the thinking man
Thought is his mistress
He is not even man
Some divine spirit dwelling within
That human form you love so passionately
Yet he is ice cold
Frozen in thought
And most importantly not of you
He is beyond man and woman
What place have they in the world of thought
Gender
Petty sex, emotion, feeling?
They are for humankind
A night of dancing
A holiday with family, friends, children
Not for him
don't ever invite him anywhere
and most people don't
they know better
leave him alone
to wonder as he wanders
Planner of great things for the universe
Beyond himself for sure
He never rests there
Although you claim his actions are
Purely selfish
From your human plane
You lowly creature
Why doesn't he care for normal things
sleep like normal people
Celebrate a birthday
Take a walk
A vacation from his work of thought
Where does woman fit in his world
Nowhere really
Unless she is the silent type
Yes, thank you, I'm sorry
Three point code of conduct
The maid, the ho, the cook
His Mama said
Maid, Secretary, Mistress
No wife, absolutely not
Her son was not meant for such
Mama knew best
Said she would never have him for a man
Or anything like him
Unless she is a woman
Secure in her needs
Able to satisfy herself without him
With someone else even, if necessary
He doesn't care about fidelity, human morality
What is flesh, really
Carnal desire
He's had his full of it
Enough pussy for a thousand years
Nine out of ten women are an insult to a dick
Keep your panties on and your mouth shut
Forever,
yeah, be a nun
And brothers probably the same
Be a monk
Women spoiled me rotten to the core
They served my every need as I lay
Like a whale washed ashore
I love them and hate them for this
Turning me out
Making me an ungrateful bastard
They've given me so much love it's killing me softly
No man in America is more loved than I am
Yet, I must transcend flesh, emotion
In the name of Revolution
Let's get beyond pussy and dick
Let's think!
We've been fucking in America 400 years
Ain't had a free thought in 400 years
Free thoughts lead to free actions
If we thought free we'd be free!
We drown in slave thoughts and slave actions!
Let her thoughts be
equal to his
Lost in herself or beyond
Like him
Not a pest
Constantly
Begging for love and attention
saying silly things over and over
like a pimp/ho syndrome
Yes, he is there and not there
Simultaneously
Somewhere
But not there
Not across the table
Listening to romantic plans
Or caring for such
Human notions
He is with the gods
Lost in the stars
Of dreamland
Forever making plans
For eternity
Who can take this
Who can live like this
No touching
No kissing
No sex
No sweet nothings
Just thought and plans of action
Call it REVOLUTION
LIBERTY OR DEATH!
THOUGHT FOR A NIGGUH IS A REVOLUTIONARY ACT
A crime against the state!
Treason!
Learn to read his mind or forget it
He reads yours, have you noticed?
He reads your every thought
He reads your period
Your bloody cycle, he studies
Every day of it, every mood of it, he studies
He sees you coming with evil and murder in your heart
I thought you knew!
Read his
Ideas that manifest
From somewhere you cannot enter
Except through the key of divine passage
Cannot buy a ticket to his world
No matter what the price
No matter how big your bank account
Try to pry him open
To no avail
Never run your agenda
Forget your agenda
Whatever you do
Don't force your ideas on him
Your simple minded suggestions, comments
Unless he asks
Please avoid needless conversation
Idle chatter
To break the silence of his day
Because you want him as friend, man, lover, husband
To release tension from your slave job sucking the white man's dick
In the manner of Connie Rice and Colin Powell
Call your girlfriends and talk all night about him or about nothing
As per usual
Bothering him with the trivial, mundane
will run him into the forest
He will hide in the woods forever
You might find him there
Beside a pond
Thinking beyond ripples in the water.
If you catch him
Hold him tenderly
Cherish the moment
Unless you believe in eternity
Where moments do not matter
And thoughts transcend the ages.
Surely for every thinking man
There is a thinking woman
Steel sharpens steel
May they meet
Along the path of eternity.
For they are not of this world
Neither he nor she
But members in the private club
Called Divinity.
Marvin X 4/21/03
146 The Bitter Bitch Syndrome
In Dr. Julia Hare’s recent book The Politically and Sexually Anorexic Black Woman, is described a personality devoid of sexual desire and political action, a person so traumatized she is of no use to herself or anyone else, although this person may seek escape in lesbianism to assuage the pain of sexual deprivation and the abuse of patriarchal domination.
But to her surprise, she may soon find herself under female domination on a level equal if not surpassing patriarchal domination. Yes, now she is a victim of the matriarchy, finding no escape except the temporary tenderness of her gender group’s gentle massaging of her wounds, which are healed with the feminine touch so missing in the rough masculine approach upon her psychosexuality.
But no mater what gender, persons in the Western world are prone to oppress and dominate in their interpersonal relations. Thus in homosexual relations, partner abuse and violence is equal if not more violent than traditional male/female partner abuse. We are aware of a young lesbian who is avoiding a confrontation with two lovers who want to “beat her up.” And we recall the tragic case of choreographer Raymond Sawyer who was stabbed over fifty times by his lover or associates.
In short, everybody wants to dominate in the spirit of white supremacy socialization. There is thus the need to detoxify from our addiction to white supremacy culture, including the psychosexuality inherent in such culture, no matter the gender of the participants.
The result is persons with the bitter bitch syndrome, exhibiting a hatred, jealousy and envy that is obvious in their aura upon approach. It can be seen in the evil vibe they give off, the sinister look in their eyes, especially when a heterosexual man approaches or interacts with a person in their homosexual gender group.
People are generally insecure in their relationships, simply because their personalities are fragile, making them apprehensive and ultra sensitive to the approach of any person outside the group--thus the bitter bitch syndrome. Now this syndrome transcends homosexuality because the heterosexual woman, who in Dr. Hare’s view is anorexic, is bitter as well against the male who ignores her for “foreign women,” in the manner of Samson and Delilah, especially those brothers sporting locks and spouting One Love, Iree, Jah Rastafari, although a true Rasta would not be seen with Babylon woman.
Sisters long ago gave up attending Reggae concerts because brothers were so entwined with Babylon woman that it became useless to seek a man in such venues. More reason for the Bitter Bitch Syndrome. And it is the same with the Hip Hop generation who are edumakated in Kemetic science or Afrocentricism, but opts for foreign women to the detriment of the conscious sister who is left alone while her Kemetic brother again finds solace in the arms of women who caused his people’s downfall 6000 years ago in the Nile Valley culture. But he is so absorbed in his intellectuality that history escapes him, robbing him of the experience of love and nurturing with his natural mate.
The trials and tribulations of Hillary Clinton’s run for the presidential nomination revealed the white supremacy of her and her sisters, to say nothing of her racist husband, Billy boy, the first black president—so Obama is the second? Alas, I must quote Fahizah who has informed us the white woman is the bearer of children who shall inherit the white supremacy world of her fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, and the Negro like the tragic Othello, yet is blind to their agenda, especially since he has no agenda of his own, but is free styling in a boat without a rudder, riding a bicycle without a kickstand.
In the Destruction of African Civilization, Chancellor Williams taught us how after cohabitating with foreign men, the African mothers raised children with misplaced loyalties that have persisted down to the present moment in the multiracial children. Are they black or white, shall they identify with the African mother or foreign father—the tragic mulatto syndrome that has morphed into the bitter bitch syndrome of today.
“Why does the black man hate me?” a so-called conscious sister asked me recently. Now I have written that often it is the woman’s mouth that turns off the black man so he is unable to desire her sexually. There is thus an urgent need for males and females to again learn the language of love; otherwise the anorexia will be an addiction of both genders. Neither will have the desire to experience sexual love with each other. We think maybe it is time to have a great love fest in the community, a ritual to celebrate the spirituality of sexuality, making it a healing tool in our relations and thus bury the bitter bitch syndrome, no matter what gender.
147 Of love and death in da hood
And Job said it best
naked I came and naked I go
ache
there is only one lesson to learn in this life
Nature Boy told us this
learn to love and be loved in return
all else illusion
money fame sex
momentary pleasures
ephemeral desires
diversions from the real
who can see through all the conundrums
across the precipice to the meta reality
only superman can stand tall
how many can persist from man to superman
J.A. Rogers asked and answered
one superman committed suicide
another fell from a horse
who is the real superman?
who has endured death a thousand times
crucified resurrected ascended
who is the black stone the builders rejected
who passed through the door of no return
yet returned to the motherland
no matter centuries later
a son came home
daughter too
ten thousand met them at the airport
twenty thousand at the compound of the high priest
prophesy fulfilled
Oh brother and sister
help us through the weary night
help us beyond poverty disease ignorance
help us transcend tribalism sectarianism dogmatism greedism corruptionism
state terror religious madness beyond all the prophets
Jesus Muhammad Buddha, even Marx and Lenin
help us walk from the dungeon to the upper room of our father's house
Come my daughter, walk with your king to his father's house
he has not defied righteousness
he has not defiled the gods
he has not disgraced the ancestors
he has not lied when the feather went on the scale of Ma-at
he has been a warrior for truth
he told no lies
so walk with your king
loving him unconditionally until the end of all things
that matter
no devotion to the trivial mundane provincial
fly with him into the midnight hour
rejoice
elders shall become ancestors
there is no escape
death is life and life is death
enjoy the holy days
and all days are holy
if we walk with the righteous
shun the scandalous
the rats snakes vermin
the terrible night is over
the dawn is upon us
let us dance sing shout wail.
--Marvin X
12/25/13
148 Fences review; reply by Abdul Alkalimat
A powerful father and son scene, Fences. Father's and sons need to view this film together!
This image released by Paramount Pictures shows Jovan Adepo, left, and Denzel Washington in a scene from “Fences.” (David Lee/Paramount Pictures via AP)
Let's begin with the story itself, Fences, part of the ten play cycle August Wilson created based on life in the ghetto of Pittsburgh, PA, where he grew up. I like to compare Wilson with playwright Ed Bullins who hailed from Philadelphia PA. There is no lack of depth in the story telling of both playwrights but Ed Bullins' North Philly dramatic narratives has more sordid stories and wretched language than Wilson, perhaps this is why Wilson was an On Broadway success while Ed entertained the Off Broadway crowds and the Black Arts Movement Theatre audiences.
But as per linguistics, Denzil's film utilized the word Nigguh more than any other term from the Black Arts Movement linguistic catalogue. But he was so skilled with the term due to his consummate acting that in the deep structure of his articulation we can hear motherfucker, bitch and host of other choice words from the basic vocabulary of North American Africans.
We congratulate Denzil Washington for bringing August Wilson's play Fences to the giant screen. Since we'd seen the play, we were somewhat familiar with the material. No one can touch Denzil's acting and his lead role in the film may garner him an Oscar or maybe an award from the Black Arts Movement. It was wonderful watching his acting, noticing every twitch of his lips, glance of his eyes, stares and the many silences he expressed to emphasize a point or emotion.
We are certain having that powerful August Wilson script made Denzil's work as actor and director much easier, and that of the other actors as well.
Fences is an absolutely riveting story of Black life in Pittsburgh in particular and America in general. We all know the pervasive racism and discrimination we've endured over the last half century, in particular, and the four centuries in general. Fences tackles the dreams deferred (Lorraine Hansberry) and I Too, Sing America (Langston Hughes). There is discussion of why a black man can't drive a garbage truck, why must black men only pick up the garbage? The main character is bold enough to complain to the boss but for his complaint he is rewarded with the driver's job, suggesting we must be assertive and transcend fear and passivity. Fredrick Douglas told us power concedes nothing without a demand, it never has and never will!
In the August Wilson story telling tradition, the film faithfully weaves its way through generational family trauma, mental illness, alcoholism, abandonment and abuse. It attempts to teach about parental responsibility but contradictions kill the moral pronouncements of the lead character in the eyes of his friend, wife and sons.
The son feels terrified because he feels the father is misplacing aggression upon him because of the father's failure to realize his dreams, so he tries to advise the son to lower his vision, not end up with shattered dreams.
The climax is when the husband informs the wife he has a woman pregnant. And then proceeds to tell her what a wonderful time he shared with the other woman. We heard women in the audience gasp! As men often do, he continued his confession about how the other woman made him laugh. Of course his wife of 18 years wanted to know why he didn't think she might want to have a good laugh with another man! Here the patriarchal mythology went wild. The husband did not dare challenge his wife's assertion of her human desires similar to the husbands. Those addicted to the Mythology of Pussy and Dick (Marvin X) can't imagine what is good for the goose is good for the gander! Ironically the baby mama dies in the hospital and the father brings the other woman's baby home to his wife who accepts the child but utters the most poignant line in the film, "Well, I got a baby but you ain't got no woman!"
We appreciated all the actors, especially the actress who portrayed the wife, and the young son was excellent and the child raised by the mother came across in flying colors especially in her interaction with the young son who come home to attend his father's funeral but had to be convinced by the child in a sing-song rap the two performed together.
This is a most beautiful film about family relationships and responsibility, especially for men and young men. It is about the need for men to recognize women are full human beings as they are, with dreams, aspirations and goals. Men need to wake up and smell the coffee!
Being true to the August Wilson script, the film contained its mystical moments throughout. The mentally ill brother of the husband was excellent as the guide who prepared the family for the pearly gates, even as he suffered with brain injury from serving in America's imperialist wars. The film was an excellent depiction of
how a family accepts a mentally ill relative. Since I know no Black family who does not suffer such a personality, it will do well for all families to see this film. Thank you so much, Denzil and the entire cast. Thank you ancestor August Wilson for your wonderful play about Black Lives Matter! Black Love Matters!
--Marvin X12/31/16
149 Review of Wounded in the house of a friend by Sonia Sanchez
Wounded in the House of a Friend
Poems by Sonia Sanchez
Beacon Press, 1995 / 94 pages
Sonia Sanchez is a poet to be heard and not read: in the hearing is the reading, for she is in the oral tradition, going back to the Nile River poets, the Congo River poets and the West African griots, those walking encyclopedias who carried in their heads the mythology and rituals of the entire tribe or nation, such is Sonia. She is the priestess, the shaman lady of the African American Nation. She qualifies because of real life suffering, dancing down into the pit of hell to arise with understanding to tell you all, if you can stand the low down dirty truth, not the Miller Lite bs for the tender hearts, but stories of pain and love and love and pain that lead to understanding and transcending.
Sometimes the poems are so strong even the poet fears going there, down into the deep dark purple funk of their lives, although we must, otherwise poetry has no meaning. Still, we will often avoid my proverb, "Poets must study their poems." Or maybe there comes a time when we have mastered certain poems, certain myths/rituals.
I know every time I try to get Sonia to read “Wounded In the House of A Friend,” she refuses, says she ain't in the mood or anything to avoid going there. One night at Baraka's house I thought she was going to read it with me, since it is a dramatic dialogue poem for a male and female. When I thought we were ready to read, she eased over to the piano and accompanied me like she was Ornette Coleman. Now her piano playing was absolutely beautiful, but she left me hanging, reading both male and female parts. Being a dramatist myself, I didn't mind, but I wanted so much for her to join me, just to hear her voice.
“Wounded In the House of a Friend” is a most beautiful dramatic poem about the ungrateful male, or shall we say simply, a poem about a male dog. Maybe that’s why I love it so much and she hates it.
She hadn't found anything. I had been careful. No lipstick. No matches from a well-known bar. No letters. Cards. Confessing an undying love. Nothing tangible for her to hold onto. But I knew she knew. It had been on her face, in her eyes for the last nine days. It was the way she looked at me sideways from across the restaurant table as she picked at her brown rice sushi . . .
Sonia is describing not only the male dog, but the transcendent artist who brings the rock of Sisyphus down on herself . And perhaps the reason she refused to read with me was because the woman in the mirror is so painful, even after months/years of detachment.
Some poems are like that, too hot to handle even years later.
Yeah. There was another woman. In fact there were three women. In Florida, Californian, and North Carolina. Places to replace her cool detachment of these last years. No sex for months. Always tired or sick or off to some conference designed to save the world from racism or extinction. If I had jerked off one more time in bed while lying next to her it woulda dropped off. Still I wondered how she knew.
There is a song by Ledisi called "Take Time" that a friend had the singer autograph to me. Take time for yourself, something the artist finds impossible to do, lost in the world of imagination or saving the world from extinction, although the world ain't going nowhere, only we are soon and very soon.
. . . As I drove home from the party I asked him what was wrong? What was bothering him? Were we okay? Would we make love tonite? Would we ever make love again? Did my breath stink? Was I too short? Too tall? Did I talk too much? Should I wear lipstick? Should I cut my hair? Let it grow? What did he want for dinner tomorrow nite? Was I driving too fast? Too slow? What is wrong man? He said I was always exaggerating. Imagining things. Always looking for trouble.
Here the perfect woman speaks, who does everything to be perfect, firstly, for herself, but for her man too, to no avail, because the devil has slipped into the game. And so the drama of this poem begins, the drama of a life seemingly impossible because we make it so with our negrocities (Baraka term, and he should know). But it is a drama of truth, and as Baldwin said the greatness of a poet is determined by the amount of truth he/she is willing to reveal about her life and humanity. Sonia goes there, there where no hiding place awaits the truth seeker, or shall we say interrogator:
Do they have children?
One does.
Are they married?
One is.
They're like you then.
Yes.
How old are they?
Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four.
What do they do?
An accountant and two lawyers.
They're like you then.
Yes.
Do they make better love than I do?
I'm not answering that.
Where did you meet?
When I traveled on the job.
Did you make love in hotels?
Yes.
Did you go out together?
Yes.
To bars? To movies? To restaurants?
Yes.
Did you make love to them all nite?
Yes.
And then got up to do your company work?
Yes.
And you fall asleep on me right after dinner. After walking the dog.
Yes.
Did you buy them things?
Yes.
Did you talk on the phone with them every day?
Yes.
Do you tell them how unhappy you are with me and the children?
Yes.
Do you love them? Did you say that you loved them while making love?
I'm not answering that.
So our poetess/dramatist is describing classic high class Negro love—of course the low down ignut Negroes have a different dialogue, are not so diplomatic, civil. But thanks Sonia for showing us sick, high class black love. And now we get to the insanity of it all:
Can I pull my bones
Together while skeletons
Come out of my head.
What an image of mental terror, the stress and strain of not going stark raving mad, as Baldwin wondered why not. With these lines, Sonia moves from dramatist to poet. Those not working in both genres think there is a confusion of form. But in the mind of the poet/dramatist there is an easy flow between forms, actually an integration and synthesis, in other words, no problem. How else can she address the pain and terror, sitting upright and proper, oh no buddy, ain't that kinna party. This is an any means necessary kind of drama, moving into pure poetry:
I am preparing for him to come home. I have exercised. Soaked in the tub. Scrubbed my body. Oiled myself down. What a beautiful day it's been. Warmer than usual. The cherry blossoms on the drive are blooming prematurely. The hibiscus are giving off a scent
Around the house. I have gotten drunk off the smell. So delicate. So sweet. So loving. I have been sleeping, no daydreaming all day. Lounging inside my head. I am walking up this hill. The day is green. All green. even the sky. I start to run down the hill and I take wing and begin to fly and the currents turn me upside down and I become young again child like again ready to participate in all children's games.
The above lines take us to the Biblical Song of Solomon, the vibe, the mood, the tension, is almost identical, the imagery and metaphors. Awaiting her lover, drunk from the very idea of him, preparing herself for his embrace. She sees him coming and flies into his arms, woman like, but childlike with ecstasy, gazelle like. This is the best Sonia gets. I am not going to discuss the other poems in this collection, Wounded In the House of A Friend. This is the masterpiece. Perhaps this is why she is afraid to read it with me. It is great love and great pain. So read the book. She is a poet of love, the love of love, the pain of love, the joy of love, the hate of love, the wonder of love, the lost of love. And then she is the priestess who will shout, scream, wail, chant, sing, moan and cry with you.
Hear her, read her and get a healing.
23 December 2003
150 Review: Bathroom Graffiti Queen by Opal Palmer Adisa
I attended the last night of the BAM Theatre Festival, produced by Dr. Ayodele Nzinga's Lower Bottom Playaz at Oakland's Flight Deck Theatre on Broadway. On the last night, three plays were performed: Opal Palmer's Bathroom Graffiti Queen, The Toilet by Amiri Baraka and my own Flowers for the Trashman.
Dr. Ayodele Nzinga, the Bay Area's Grand Diva of Theatre, has turned Opal Palmer Adisa's play into a neo-BAM classic with her performance of this one-woman show about a bag woman who hangs in a bathroom to give wisdom to women "lost and turned out on the way to grandmother's house" to use a phrase from the Whisper's song. But what makes Ayodele a diva? Consider that she produced the nine plays in the festival, directed them and performed Graffiti Queen. Consider that she produced and directed the entire August Wilson cycle of plays in chronological order, the first to do so in the known world. Consider that she is the star student of Black Arts Movement co-founder Marvin X; she has performed and directed his plays In the Name of Love (Laney College Theatre, 1981), One Day in the Life, Recovery Theatre, San Francisco, 1996-2002) and Flowers for the Trashman. But all this is not enough to qualify her as the Bay Area's grand diva. One has to see her performance in Graffiti Queen to see the awesome power in this child of threatre. We must observe her delivery of lines, stretching words, shouts, screams, cries; her body language, movement, a choreography of the first order. It is a pleasure to observe an actress at the top of her game, in total command of her art that she has mastered through hard work and sacrifice.
I present my notes from a previous review of Opal Palmer's play:
Opal Palmer Adisa's play Bathroom Graffiti Queen is a womanhood training rite, the feminine counterpart to Amiri Baraka's classic The Toilet which was a manhood rite on the theme of homosexuality. Opal Palmer's play deals with the myriad problems pussy can cause its owner, the woman of course. The language is befitting the bathroom or rest room--though she questions what is there to rest about? But the room is where women come to share their pain by writing on the wall and then await the Bathroom Queen's written reply or spoken to the audience while the women sit on the toilet.... The Queen, performed eloquently by Ayodele Nzingha (also director/producer) gives bits of wisdom to each woman's problem, whether it is the young girl who wonders if she should allow the boy to play with her pussy or stick his tongue in her mouth or eventually put his penis inside her, or the woman who is stalked by a man, or how should a woman deal with her period or the funky smell of yeast infection. These are the problems addressed by the Queen, herself broken from time and space in an oppressive world. Her clothing and makeup are graffiti itself, an extension of her madness since something pushed her to live in the toilet among the piss and shit of life, a victim of capitalism and slavery. Her Jamaican accent adds to the flavor of this Pan African drama.
Just as Baraka's Toilet allowed women to peer or peep inside the world of young men, the males in the audience where allowed to view the feminine private conversation and ranting. We've often wondered what women do in the restroom, why they take so long. One female just came to address the wall and pray for an answer. Thus the room became the therapy clinic for a society lacking mental health workers. The sick must heal themselves. And so the young girls turned to the elder woman for comfort even though she was broken herself, for even the doctor or priestess is a victim of pervasive white supremacy. (from the Mythology of Pussy and Dick, Marvin X.) We are forced to conclude the BAM Theatre Festival's production of Bathroom Graffiti Queen was the best ever performance by Dr. Ayodele Nzinga. She is simply awesome with her mastery of skills in theatre.
151 Parable of the Pit Bull
There was a pit bull who lived in the city. A man wanted to buy him and raise him for protection, so he met with the owner and got the pedigree. He investigated the history of the dog and his family connections, to make sure he was a purebred. Once he was clear the pit bull came from a legit line, he paid for the animal and brought it home. He was happy to have a nice pet, especially one so pure and not polluted like a mutt, a cross breed or mongrel, a mutation whose DNA was of questionable nature.
He loved his pit bull and the animal loved him. He trained the dog for fighting, and he was a great fighter, a champion who won many battles.
And then the man met a woman he really liked. He knew almost nothing about her, but he hooked up with her and eventually she moved in with him. He didn't know where she came from, nothing about her family roots, her friends, her education and work history, whether she was psychotic and/or neurotic, suicidal and/or homicidal, whether she was radical, revolutionary or reactionary.
He didn't know she had been raised in a foster home, and later an orphanage, that she had seen her mother stab her grandmother, that her mother had a nervous breakdown and was confined to an institution for life. He didn't know any of this. He didn't know she had been a prostitute, homeless and a drug addict.
But he loved her and married her. And when he found out about her past life, he didn't give a damn. Since he was rich, a baller, big willie, he gave her the best of everything, just as he treated his pit bull, even better. He dressed her in the finest clothes and took her to eat in the finest restaurants and party in the VIP section of clubs.
And then one day she disappeared. He didn't know what happened to her. Worried to death, he hired a private investigator to search for her. The private eye found her in a two dollar motel with a trick.
The man told the private eye not to disturb her, leave her where she was.
--Marvin X
3/7/10
152 HIV/AIDS
Recently we saw the vice president of South Africa
charged with raping an HIV positive woman, and he
wasn’t wearing a condom, I presume. I wrote about
the insanity of sex in The Crazy House Called
America, so I don’t have much to add except to say
the disease is upon us and we must stop acting like
a turtle with our heads inside the shell.
I know I am blessed to be here after my sexual
behavior, especially while under the influence of
drugs. Many of my friends have checked out long
ago. It hurts when you lose your friends. You wish
you could have saved them. You wonder why they
had no discipline. Some were gays, some were dope
fiends, some both. One gay brother who has passed
on told me he infected others on purpose, because
so-called straight brothers thought they were all that
and a bag of chips. He caught them in a desperate
moment, probably when they needed money for
drugs and infected them. Is this not madness?
At least dope fiends have stopped sharing needles.
Those heroin addicts are not totally dumb, but I
can’t speak on speed freaks.
My message is we must be more vocal and
proactive in calling upon people to practice safe
sex. If an old dog like me has submitted to wearing
a condom, any brother can.
The religious community claims it is in the soul
saving business, then speak on the subject, preach
87
on it, and do so with intelligence not spookism. Tell
them the truth, not Biblical mythology.
Abstinence can help, obviously, but if youth are
having oral and anal sex because President Clinton
said it wasn’t sex, then we yet have a problem.
Many of the abstinence youth are indeed practicing
oral and anal sex and of course getting infected with
STDs if not HIV. We must use the mind God gave
us, Mama said.
Mama told us get an education, don’t worry about
sex, but alas, one of the highest rates of HIV
infection is among Black brothers in college,
especially at the Negro colleges and universities.
Use the mind God gave you!
HIV/AIDS in Africa is totally overwhelming to me.
There are now twenty million children who are
orphans, and then there are those children trying to
care for parents who are dying. In Africa the virus is
spread, as elsewhere, through ignorance and
superstition. And there is resistance from the
religious community, even the politicians can be
part of the problem as in South Africa. At least the
government in Uganda has had enough intelligence
to demand condom use which cut the spread of the
virus substantially.
--From In the Crazy House Called America, Marvin
X, BBP, 2002.
153#153 The Nowhere People
Muhajir,Where is the love for the LOST people? Thank you for reminding us.--Fahizah Alim
Poet Marvin X and Muse Fahizah Alim
The people of Nowhere
Live lives shut in shut out
Seldom venture out
From nowhere to some where.
No church no concert movie
Walk in the park
Eternal house arrest
No chains handcuffs
A mental prison
No guards cept boys on the block
Who go nowhere
Never leave turf
Cept in body bags
No motel love ballers
Laundry room love
Hot girl upstairs
No where girl
Sex on the dryer
Mama can't dry clothes
Mama go nowhere
No mama time
Jail time sons
Mama time at court
Visit prison sons
No mama time
Nowhere life.
--Marvin X
8/14/18
#154 Baby Boy, In Memoriam, John Singleton
Baby Boy
Written, Directed, Produced
by John Singleton
Click to Order via Amazon
Rating: R
Studio: Columbia Tri-Star
Theatrical Release Date: June 29, 2001
DVD Release Date: November 6, 2001
Run Time: 129 minutes
Production Company: Columbia Tri-Star
Tyrese Gibson stars as Jody
Yvette (Taraji P. Henson)
Peanut (Tamara LaSeon Bass)
Juanita (Adrienne-Joi Johnson)
Sweetpea (Omar Gooding)
(Snoop Doggy Dogg)
Marvin (Ving Rhames)
Reviewed by Marvin X
From Boyz in the Hood to Baby Boy is not much progress, or is it a necessary return to the scene of a crime for a closer look at the evidence, to figure out a motive, to clarify certain thoughts on a problem that has proven a conundrum. Certainly the situation of the black man in America is such a problem. How did he get here, why, and how will he get where he wants and should be? The movie opens with some definitions of boy, crib, mama-and I was waiting to hear man defined, as in The Man, as in white man as opposed to black man. I have been told John lacks political consciousness, so perhaps this is why he didn't go into The Man but stayed with Baby Boy-an easier task, yet difficult enough to confound the greatest minds in the world. DuBois, Garvey, Elijah, Malcolm, Fanon, Hare, these are a few of the men who've tried to decipher the innards of the black man's soul, heart and mind.
So we must give John credit for stepping into high cotton, for attempting to answer a most profound question, how do we get the black boy to manhood, especially when many fathers have long gone and society deals with the question as a criminal matter, especially when the Oedipus drama between boy and mom reaches the climax or gets out of control.
On one level, the answer to all this is very simple, manhood training is the prescription John's movie tries to fill: initiating the boys into manhood. Since the Black Men's Conference in Oakland, 1980, many organizations have come on the scene to offer manhood rites for black boys, from coast to coast there are age-grade ceremonies and rites of passage. But most of these programs are relegated to the bourgeoisie youth, the ghetto boys must fend for themselves. At least John had enough sense to transcend gang socialization and affiliation as a solution because it is mostly a case of the blind leading the blind.
The sole elder or manhood facilitator is the mother's boyfriend, an ex convict trying to do the right thing after a ten year journey up river. In spite of his serious limitations including the neglect of his own children, he initiates Jodie into manhood. The boyfriend is the only adult male we see, although we hear of previous abusers of Jodie's mother and of his father we learn very little, mainly that he is long gone, the typical situation in the hood where the black man is a premium and often a rarity in the family or anywhere else, after all the black man is busy escaping from the ever encroaching white man and his variety of viruses, from jail, prison, alcohol, drugs, homosexuality, infidelity, insanity, hostility, etc.
We see the boyfriend is a killer and he comes close to taking Jodie out in a fit of rage that might be excusable as a manhood training exercise-he had to show Jodie who's the man, or at least the elder or the authority figure, a similar procedure practiced by the police when they stop ghetto youth for the slightest matter-they terrorize them, punch, hit, choke them, often before asking for ID. In the end, Jodie is dancing to the Boyfriend's music, literally and spiritually, suggesting his maturity, but John takes us into the surreal for this to happen.
We see Jodie shot multiple times, but in the Christian tradition surfacing from the deep structure of the movie, Jodie is crucified, resurrected and completes his journey into manhood. He ascends. He leaves his mama's nest and goes off to create his own with his ever insecure baby's mama. In spite of their immaturity, the couple revealed deep love and affection, which is usually the case with the woman, but we never doubt that Jodie loves his baby mama number one.
I really appreciated John's ear for our language-it was precise and true to people in the hood-it was poetry to my ears, a vindication of the freedom of speech the Black Arts movement presented and the rappers extended.
Now Peanuts, baby mama number two, is lost in the scuffle, which is another problem that John S. was obviously incapable of dealing with as are most Christians and most Muslims, the problem of the other woman. So Peanuts is like Hagar and her daughter like Ishmael, abandoned and sent into the desert to be forgotten. At some point in our existence, we must deal with the multiple families we have created-if polygamy is not the answer, then what is? It was obvious Jodie was not mature enough to handle one woman, let alone two or more-and he didn't really try, but clearly the women in the hood wanted him to be their BD, baby's daddy.
I really appreciated John's ear for our language-it was precise and true to people in the hood-it was poetry to my ears, a vindication of the freedom of speech the Black Arts movement presented and the rappers extended. It was raw but natural-thank God the culture police didn't censure him because they have no originality or creativity, only moral hypocrisy. Let the people speak their language, let their voice be heard-freedom of expression is a political act protected by the Constitution, or it was before 911.
I enjoyed the love scenes, they too were natural and not the usual fake looking arrangements-and the mama's boyfriend butt naked in the kitchen cooking breakfast was a monster. The motif of the mother in the garden worked for me, except some close-ups of the vegetables might have made them not look so phony. The mother in the garden and in the house was central to what Baby Boy was all about-getting the bird out of the nest, out of the garden, out of the house, so mama can have a life and the boy become a man. Without daddy, there is only so much mama can do-and the boy warriors are so rebellious an early exit is necessary. They cannot linger pretending to protect mom-as mom said, whatever happens in love is going to happen. Don't get me wrong, Jodie had a right to be concerned about his mother's safety since she had a history of hooking up with violent males. But after OJ the violent male is a top priority of the criminal justice system-often the children become obsessive in their concern for mama, as if they can pick and chose who mama sleeps with. The mother was forceful in demanding a life of her own, she was busy kicking birds out of her nest, or crib as they say.
For a moment, I saw sparks of Death of A Salesman when Jodie decided to do for self and began selling women's clothing. This was revolutionary-maybe John does have some consciousness. Jodie had enough sense not to sell dope and not to work for the white man. And he was quite a salesman. John could have told us why Jodie chose to sell women's clothing-aside from the fact that women have money on a constant basis-they can always get money, I've heard-but selling to men is a problem because of playa hatin, jealous, envious brothers-something the movie could have discussed at this point, because this has great relevance for the state of mind, growth and maturity o f the black man-why is it so difficult to sell something to another black man? When I was a dope fiend, I made it a practice to never buy dope from a black man-my choice was the women dope dealers who gave up love, as they say. Why can't a black man give another black man justice? This has everything to do with manhood training and John failed to pick up the ball here. I know brothers who sell women's clothing for all the above reasons.
But finally, the movie was too long. There came a point when we knew nothing else could happen except the moment of truth-when the bullfighter kills the bull. And we wanted to see the blood and get it over with. The brother coming home from prison and returning to his ex girl's house was a prescription for homicide in the hood. With so many young men caught up into the criminal justice system, this is an important issue that should have been dealt with as such, but it was done in a Miller Lite fashion, not exploring the sensibilities of the brother coming home to no home, to no woman, no family. It could have been treated on a deeper level without getting the script off focus.
Snoop Dogg did a great job with the limited script. With respect to the woman, it has to do with control, power, and ownership, as if the woman is chattel, personal property. This must be a subject in the curriculum of manhood training. That's her pussy, Mr. Black man-if you can control your dick and protect your dick, you will be doing wonders for yourself and the entire community. The dialogue over pussy and dick was boring, probably because I've heard it throughout my relationship with women and I refuse to go there at this point in my life-I don't want to discuss what I do with my dick or what you do with your pussy. Whatever we do together is our business and what I do without you is mine-and what you do without me is yours. I have transcended flesh. Too many of my friends have made their transitions behind flesh. I don't plan to go out that way. It is said half the brothers in prison are there behind trying to impress a woman or behind a woman that they have convinced themselves they were in love with-when in most cases the brother didn't love himself because he had no knowledge of self and most especially no knowledge of a woman.
John Singleton accepted a great challenge when he wrote, directed and produced Baby Boy, but one thing a young man lacks is wisdom, for it only comes with age or in deep consultation with the elders. If he had shown the young brothers meeting with the elders, the movie would have taken us as a community to a new level of consciousness. One day such a meeting will take place and be the subject of movies because it will usher in the reconciliation and stabilization of our community. We shall go nowhere as long as our young boys must fend for themselves, must reinvent the wheel of fortune. The challenge is not on the young, but on the elders: black men must step to the front of the line. Time out for marching and talking-Marcus Garvey told us the world is moving against all unorganized people. Black man, get organized!
#155 Barbara Boxer and/or Condi Rice—In Search of My Soul Sister
After a lifetime of fears, doubts, ambivalence and general paranoia (my essential mental state) about the feminine gender, I recently concluded, based on six decades of interaction, that the black woman was, after all is said and done, my friend, and that she has never wanted to be anything other than my friend, helper, lover and mate, really, for eternity, if I could have ever been shackled to her that long. Yes, after thinking about my most wonderful Mother, an even more gracious and loving Grandmother (Oh, Grandma’s hands!), and after reflecting on my six sisters who probably more than anyone else helped form my ambivalence and maybe paranoia too, since I was so traumatized by their constant chatter and feminine intrigues that I would find it a simple matter upon adolescence and adulthood to ignore any words from the feminine gender, especially simple advice or wisdom, which cost me greatly on the road to success, including several failed marriages and a kind of psychic distance from my three lovable and most wonderful daughters.
If truth be told and certainly it is time to tell the truth at this stage in my life, I must admit that all the women in my life have been absolutely wonderful, not one ever treated me wrongly or without tenderness and unconditional love, yet my response was to dog them to no end, or rather until the end when they departed broken hearted and disgusted.
This new recognition on my part was made even plainer when my actor/singer J.B. Saunders presented me with a wonderful song “Don’t Bite The Hands That Feed You.”
J.B., also a dogger of women, perhaps even worse than myself since he had a career of pimping, had also had a revelation that it was time to reconcile with the feminine gender, or least stop the abuse, whether physical, mental or emotional. Perhaps old dogs actually do learn new tricks! J.B.’s lyrics said that our woman was indeed our friend and supporter, not someone to be dogged at every turn, for in the end we become the victim, or as another song told us “the hunter gets captured by the game.”
Of course, one truth about love is that love is a game of victims, for by its nature, love makes the beloved victim of the lover, for love is that state wherein we willingly accept to be victimized for we submit and declare to all who need to know and to some who don’t need to know that we are helplessly under the power of the beloved.
Moving from the personal to the political, we now clearly recognize that love for the Black woman had to move from the romantic to the critical in deciding who or what she represented on this stage of life. How is she connected to us and we to her—a question we had to answer about men as well, with the same if not more degree of political acumen because few men allow another man to do to us what we allow women to do, after all, women have the unique skill to get anything from us with a smile, a glance of the eye, a stride. During my brief academic career, my female students knew they could get almost any grade from me, especially if they came at me right, or simply talked right, it wasn’t always about sexual favors. And two of my students convinced me to marry them, so much for the wisdom of the professor.
But in the politics of love, we matured to the point of understanding a black face, even of the feminine gender, was not sufficient to gain our allegiance and respect. We came to recognize that politics was not about color, contrary to what we “believed” during the 60s, especially with the call for black power. Forty years later, however belatedly and detrimentally, we came to see blackness was about consciousness not color and had much to do about class as well, since class very often determines consciousness, although not always, after all, we know of several instances in our history when “house Negroes” plotted slave revolts, but generally speaking, the house Negro is not to be trusted, since he/she is more determined to preserve the house than the master.
We are reminded of that scene in the film Amistad where the Africans are being marched into town for mutiny. One African sees a Negro carriage driver and remarks, “He is our brother.” An African replies, “No, he is a white man.”
And so it is the class nature of things that must be examined with respect to loving or not loving Dr. Condi Rice—to be or not to be our sister—that is the question! Having transcended our gender fears, having made every determination to reach out in sincerity to embrace our sister in struggle, who endured with us all the horror and terror of the centuries, we must sadly reject her and everything for which she stands, for we find her political consciousness an abomination, a betrayal of our racial heritage of resistance in the face of suffering, in short genocide. Clearly, she came from us, but is no longer us, she has graduated from victim to victimizer—while some, perhaps her “classmates” on the right will call this progress and a point of pride for the “race.” Well, I remember Elijah Muhammad describing UN Undersecretary Ralph Bunche as “A Negro we don’t need,” and this most surely applies to Condi, who graduated from oppressed to oppressor. She stands at the pinnacle of imperialism, the most powerful woman in the world, yes, even more powerful than the Queen of England, for Condi literally has the world in her hands. In assuming to Secretary of State, we are humbled at her meteoric rise from the slave pit of Alabama to steering the ship of state.
Her brother Colin Powell whom she replaces for the simple reason that he was found disagreeable to the imperial throne, perhaps even in his conservatism too uppity with thoughts slightly to the left of Pharaoh, had to be replaced by Condi who shares a more amicable relationship with boss man sah, to the tragic extent that Senator Barbara Boxer voted against confirmation, saying “…Your loyalty to the mission you were given…overwhelmed your respect for the truth.”
In the darkest days of my gender fears, I never forgot the teachings of my mother’s Christian Science religion with it’s emphasis on the centrality of truth in all matters.Indeed what has gotten me in trouble with women even more than physical and mental abuse is being truthful, especially in regard to my sexual improprieties.
Condi Rice stands condemned before the world for being a liar and murderer, a person completely and utterly devoid of truth, thus her elevation to Secretary of State must be a great embarrassment to our ancestors, and her reply to Senator Boxer that her credibility and integrity was being impugned is without merit. Boxer pointed out how she contradicted the president and herself with respect to weapons of mass destruction as the cause for war against Iraq. Contrary to Dr. Rice, Saddam was not a threat to his neighbors in Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Iran, Jordan and Syria. He was contained and therefore not a threat to the “American people,” who, as Nelson Mandela pointed out, are the greatest threat to world peace. There was nothing to fear from Saddam but fear itself, quite similar to my gender fears I harbored for decades when I imagined female friends, mates, lovers were somehow my enemies, and were, in my tortured mind, out to get me, when in reality, I was out to get them.
Condi’s advice to President Bush has, at this point, caused the death of 1,366 Americans,10,372 wounded, also over 100,000 Iraqi dead. As Boxer noted, this is no light matter but a deception of the most despicable kind that has brought America’s credibility in the world to a new low, yet, like the President, Dr. Rice is totally unapologetic and stoic in maintaining her stance that contravenes reality.
I cannot in the name of our shared Africanity go there with her, for she long ago crossed the line of propriety. She cannot have my respect and sympathy in her dutiful defense of Pharaoh and his meanderings throughout the world in the name of global capitalism. Imagine, in the midst of the Iraqi quagmire, they are now contemplating an invasion of Iran. This American arrogance has no end except The End.
As between Senator Barbara Boxer and Condi Rice, if I had to choose my soul sister, I would rise above color in favor of consciousness, thus claim Senator Boxer as my sister.
This is no time in history to be starry-eyed idealists and continue with romantic notions about blackness. Sadly, we live in a world where what appears to be black is white and what appears white is black. Get over it and march forward into the new millennium. I shall never forget how we banned interracial couples from attending our black nationalist parties in the 60s. Amina Baraka loves to tell the story of when she and her husband were at the Black House cultural/political center in San Francisco in 1967. Amina observed my lady friend Ethna Wyatt (Hurriyah Asar) tell a white woman she couldn’t come in. The lady replied she was part Indian. Hurriyah replied, “Well, the Indian can come in but the white got to go.”
At another party with revolutionary black nationalists, a brother tried repeatedly to convince us his white woman was in fact black in consciousness, therefore should be admitted. We rejected his pronouncement, but in consciousness his woman was black and should have been admitted, especially since there were sisters at the party who harbored thoughts, if only subconsciously, similar to Condi Rice’s. As a matter of fact, I was recently told of one sister who was at this particular party who is now such a right wing fanatic that her in-laws banned her from their house, even changed their telephone number to avoid her right wing ranting.
I am not promoting interracial relationships, rather, in the tradition of my Mother, I am promoting truth and honesty which is the least we should expect from human beings with consciousness, no matter their color. But we understand that class has a way of stretching truth beyond reality, where it becomes an exercise in arrogance and sick pride, the stuff of classic tragedy. I am not into hating human beings, especially my distant sister Condi Rice, whom we must allow history and God to judge—may they have mercy on her soul.
At least Colin Powell was man enough to apologize to the world for his United Nations pseudo lecture justifying the war. Shall we await the day when Condi will admit her sins? Let us hope she is not made to do so before the World Court for crimes against humanity.
black ain't black
white ain't white
beware the day
beware the night!
#156 Revolutionary Porn?
Revolutionary Black Porn Star, Kapri Styles, verbally resists rape by her white high school coach
In this XXX rated video, we see black porn star Kapri Styles using porn to fight racism and white supremacy while on her job as a sex queen, talking shit in her imitable style to her white high school coach who threatens to report her for smoking cigarettes at school if she doesn't submit to having sex with him.
Black Goddess Kapri Styles
Kapri Styles transcends her angelic African body by spitting language reminiscent of the Black Arts Movement Theatre, especially the dramas of Amiri Baraka, Ed Bullins and Marvin X. But neither Amiri, Ed Bullins or Marvin X equal combined equal the resistance language of Kapri Styles in its intensity as she repeatedly denounces her rapist. who imagines he has conquered her mind, body and soul.
Brothers have viewed this video but immediately concluded Kapri passively submitted to her rapist simply because he kept his penis in her mouth and told her he didn't care what black resistance songs she sang.
Of course the rapist is about power and domination, but Kapri gets her message to her audience and we sympathize with her no matter that the master thinks he has conquered her once again, but he has not. Kapri's verbal resistance is enough to let her audience appreciate her as a revolutionary sister who used the only weapon she had, her mouth, to let the master know he may have conquered her body be he never approached the depths of her soul!
What else matters? Flesh is muscle, an illusion that one can think he has conquered the essence when the very idea is not only an illusion but a delusion of the demented mind of the colonizer. What did Dr. Frantz Fanon say, "All decolonization is successful."
And as per the Black Arts Movement and Hip Hop, where do you place Kapri as actress and spoken word artist? Has Hip Hop acknowledged "video ho's" who and still are pervasive in the Bitch, Ho, Motherfucker genre that persists! Hip Hop must address the debasement of women as all men and women must do globally ASAP!
Ancestor August Wilson's commercial success was partly do to his skills in walking up to the linguistic precipice that Ed Bullins penetrated with his acceptable Off Broadway productions though rich linguistically in the BAM tradition and the Philly life Ed endured and dramatized as no one else did..
August Wilson, for sure, cannot equal the rawness of Kapri's resistance language and tone of defiance that she may have absorbed from the Hip Hop Five Per centers whose mythology and linguistics come directly from the Nation of Islam via Clarence 13X, founder of the Five Per Cent Nation of Gods and Earths.
But if you know any North American African artists who speak in a similar vain as Kapri, please inform me.
As per myself, I want readers to know my short film Marvin X Driving Miss Libby is linguistically and dramatically derived from Paul Robeson's performance in Emperor Jones. As I wrote Marvin X Driving Libby, I was consciously or even unconsciously aware I was traveling in the middle of Paul Robeson's Emperor Jones and Kapri Styles verbal resistance to white supremacy.
It is deeply disturbing that socalled conscious brothers and sisters cannot rise above the low information vibration and the resultant world of make believe to enjoy the work of a master actress in the persona of Kapri Styles, even though she works in the pornography industry that is, you will surely agree, only a nano second above Hollywood in conspiracy with Silicon Valley.
Kapri submits to being raped but fights her white rapist with a plethora of razor cutting words, she calls him soda cracker, white devil, honky, Satan, horned devil, uncle sam, yankee, pink dick honky, etc.
Her reaction to rape gives us a verbal expression of the resistance our women ancestors no doubt showered upon their slave masters down to the present day sexual violation of black women by white bosses on the job. Our women did what ever necessary in order to survive the capitalist world of make believe and conspicuous consumption, i.e., all things can be bought, sold for a price, or taken by violent means, as long as the white slave master satisfies his pathological desire of joyful domination, sexual and economic, though we suspect his psychopathic personality is beyond even money and power. Jesus said it best, "You are a liar and murderer and abode not in the truth. If God were your Father you would love me, but you seek to kill me because I tell you truth. If you were Abraham's children, you would do the works of Abraham."
There is no spiritual dimension with those addicted to White Supremacy. The master is constitutionally unable to rise above the low information vibration of bestiality. In Black Mass, Amiri Baraka noted, "Where the soul's print should be, there is only a cellulose pouch of disgusting habits!"
I respect and appreciate the beautiful and eloquent Kapri (I dare anyone view other videos of Kapri Styles and deny she is a consummate actor.
After viewing her in this video, even conscious brothers have told me they would like to see more of her body beautiful and I concur along with a female friend who especially appreciated her verbosity, along with her angelic body, indefatigable spirit and tenacity.
For sure, the white honky cares nothing about her protests and denunciations as long as his pink dick is in her mouth and pussy. Even today, those enjoying the privilege of White Supremacy, simply ignore cries of the poor and dispossessed.
In her field nigga rhetoric of resistance, she reminds the honky, devil, uncle sam, yankee she is not his slave only because she does not recognize him as master, i.e., there can be no slaves if they refuse to submit to the master! She thus transcended her oppressor into the land of mental freedom. In the film Black Panther, Killmonger,before his death, declares his African ancestors were those who jumped into the ocean rather than submit to eternal slavery in the Americas. The Holy Qur'an says, "Oppression is worse than slaughter!" Kapri submitted in the physical moment, but in the mythology of BAM Master Sun Ra, Father of Afrofuturiusm, she was on the other side of Time! She thus represented the Afro-futuristic notion of past-present and future as one time that
Sun Ra called Infinity. He called his band the Myth-Science Infinity Arkestra.
We think her words are revolutionary for all those women who need a script when confronted by white supremacy sexual exploitation. We urge all pseudo conscious revolutionary/radical, BAM/Hip Hop/Kemetic/Muslim/Christian/Yoruba/Jah PC puritans to take a moment and escape their box of moral and ideological dogmatism and listen to a sister verbalizing what our ancestors said when confronted with the real motherfucker, fatherfucker and childrenfucker. Think about all the women suffering such sexual aggression in all levels of economic wage slavery. Some of you who watched the video say, "Oh, well, she did what she had to do and the master dismissed her verbosity since he was satisfying himself with a recalcitrant and incorrigible wench, and a most beautiful one at that. Whoever wrote the script, I thank them because for me it was inspirational to see the sister spouting words of resistance. Some viewers replied saying they would have been satisfied if she had knifed him. For me, her words were a thousand knives on behalf of millions of our sisters and all women who were/are forced to endure sexual assault in the past and in the present era.
--Marvin X
3/30/18
#157 Standing on the shoulders of ancestors
OH, Patrice Lumumba
we love you
standing tall against global white supremacy in the Congo
blood diamonds
minerals so nigguhs can talk on cell phone bout
where you at
where you at
where you at......
Joy energy strength
resist resist resist
rise up rise up rise up
don't give up don't give up don't give up!
resist resist resist
no mo clowns, passive ass nigguhs without balls to confront white supremacy
It's not that you are physical faggot, you are a mental faggot
a mind in perpetual gender identity crisis
confused on the master slave relationship
in love with the master
total submission
no resistance
the white man is God Almighty
I am his slave I love him
will kill for him
my lover keeper
white man!
resist resist resist
Paul Robeson said, "I am the artistic freedom fighter !"
and so we are
standing on the ancestors
Kemit
Yoraba
Hausa
Ibo
Shabazz
standing tall
in Egypt we came to the Square with blankets
in front of tanks, we did this.
reactionaries will never lay down their butcher knives, never turn into Buddha heads.
Wait. wait. wait. don't forget the killers who taught, dope dealers who showed me love, hey!
Sun Ra said, "Sometimes you can be so right you wrong. The perfect man is a laughing stock. All work and no play makes Jack very dull. Yes, Jack is very very dull."
Truth is, can I talk about those who mentored me?
The worst people in the world.
And the best.
#158 Woman on cell phone
Sister
Yeah, these nigguhs is here at my funeral. Yeah, that bitch is here. Now you know I don't like that bitch. I should get out this casket and beat her motherfuckin ass. How dare she come to my funeral after I caught her and my man fucking. They can fuck forever now cause I'm outta here.
Yeah, I'm gone baby girl. But did you hear that other bitch sing that song I don't like? Yeah, how dat hoe gon sing a song I don't even like at my funeral. I should get out this casket and whip her ass too.
These nigguhs is too much for me. I'm so glad I'm outta here. And my man sittin there cryin crocodile tears. You know he gon be at one of his other bitches house tonight. She gon be feelin all sorry for him. I should send my spirit over her house and bust up they shit. Know what I mean. I should just command my spirit over her place and fuck it up.
Now bout this heaven shit, Girl. We go see when I get there. Better be some fine nigguhs up in heaven or I'm goin down to hell. I am not gonna be where no mud duck lookin nigguhs is. And I gotta be there for eternity. Hell to the naw. Cause I know I'm cute. Did you see what I had on at my wake last night. Yeah, was I cute, girlfriend? I told dem funeral people don't be makin me look like no damn ghost wit all dat gray ass makeup. Have me lookin cute leavin here.
Well, girl they bout to close the casket. I'm so sorry you couldn't make it but everybody got up and said they little piece. They didn't stop nobody from saying what they thought about me, but you know it was all lies. Nigguhs oughta stop lyin like that. Half them nigguhs hated my guts.
You shoulda seen that hoe came dressed like mother Hubbard, crying all over my casket, bout to knock me ova. I started to raise up and slap dat bitch, but I kept my cool. I just kept lookin up at the ceiling.
Girl you take care. I hope they got some damn cigarettes in heaven, and they better have some Hennessy, I swear, or I'm going straight to hell.
Let me get off dis phone. Later, girl.
#159 Moment between light and darkness
half blind in the fourth quarter of my life
I travel from light into darkness
micro second of total darkness
I do not try to see in this space
just adjust
light into darkness
then I see darkness
thankful
navigate darkness
Dr. Nathan Hare say I have seen enough
flow wit da flow
one day at a time
Dr. Hare say praise Sankofa bird
just don't stay in past
otherworldism
forward motion
Afrofuturism
Sun Ra style
Space is the Place
Your world is not my world
your world is history
my world is mystery
Space is the Pace
You so evil
devil don't want you in hell!
Sonny say
What you doing negro
Sonny say
Negro say I ain't doin' nothin'
Sonny say you wanna job Negro
Negro say doin what?
Sonny say doin' nothin!
Negro say how much you gonna pay me?
Sonny say
I ain't gonna pay ya nothin!
I am thankful to see light in darkness
Oh, world, forgiveness my sins
I try to forgive world for low information vibration
Bible say people destroyed for lack of knowledge not money women men children
What Qur'an say
If your wealth wives children
are dearer to you than Allah
then wait til His command comes
Be ye not of the unjust unmerciful
be of those who praise Him
and He hears those who praise Him
Rabbanaka al Hamb
Oh, Lord, to Thee is due all praise!
In the low information vibration we are
anesthetized to the world of make believe conspicuous consumption
my favorite line from Dr. E. Franklin Frazier's Black Bourgeoisie
Today is Askia Toure's b day
When he apologized to students at UC Merced for leaving them this unfinished legacy of uncompleted revolution
I objected because I know our revolution was aborted by the overwhelming power of the State
military intelligence cointelpro fbi snitches agent provocateurs
how could we overcome the awesome power of the state apparatus?
Afterall, we were young and invincible thinking we knew it all
refusing the wisdom of elders and ancestors
in our ignut joy to reinvent the wheel
so we did stupid shit
sex drugs and rock n roll can make revolution but not complete it
Dr. John Henry Clarke said only high moral will save us
Sun Ra said only discipline
Teach discipline to your actors Marvin X
forget that freedom justice equality talk
don't you see how wild and crazy they act?
Teach discipline
This is what I teach my Arkestra
Sonny was right
look at our freedom babies
wild crazy savage
no discipline
no manners
no etiquette
common sense
from Crack hand to cell phone hand
addicted like the man/woman Crack addicts
they/we used to run through the hood with Crack in hand
Cell phone junkies walk into the streets into cars with cell phone in hand
talking loud saying nothing (James Brown)
JB said, "If it was left up to me I would cut yo hand off
talkin loud sayin nothin
talkin black but livin all the negro you can!
We love you JB
You taught us the Big Payback is a motherfucka
I'm Black n Proud
It's a man's world
but ain't nothin without a woman
there is darkness in the world and there is light
between the two think about the good times
enjoy the good times
when bad times come
roll wit da punches
sister in law told me
smiling faces tell lies
fake news
fake blues
fake jazz
blue eyed blues singer was you in the cotton cane Earle Davis asked
cotton/cane fields from can't see ta can't see?
was you on the lynching tree
was you in the big house
or house nigga
master came to yo hut
you thought to fuck yo woman
no
master came to fuck you
Mandingo ass nigga
Did master fuck you
fusion jazz ass motherfuck
fk yo woman children
his children too
then sold them New Year's Day Auction block
blues jazz white boy/girl
did jim crow suck yo blood
did yo ancestors eat food in the shit hole door of no return
before Middle Passage through Door of No Return
Did you go there
hear the ancestors wailing in the walls
crying through centuries of pain trauma genocide
400 years without a food stamp
400 years capital accumulation
400 years building white wealth
yes reparations yes
reparations til Fort Knox is drained
Drain Federal Reserve
drain white privilege wealth
depart ghetto gentrifiers
depart
fuck yo high tech jobs
fuck yo hipster fake ofay bullshit
depart with dogs in hand
clean dog shit and yo shit
depart
leave yo keys
South Africa style
leave yo keys
flee to Australia Russia flee
space moon mars saturn
leave keys
no earth lessons learned
go
leave yo keys
white man heaven black man's hell
white man heaven black man's hell
Farrakhan sing
how you sing blues jazz
how you sing anything
where Beatles steal
Elvis
Rolling Stones steal
we love everything about you but you
Poet Paradise say
truly
we love Dolly Parton's coal miner blues
South told me ova n ova poor white trash treated worse than niggas
so we love you trailer house trash white folks
only you can sing the blues
you understand jazz, i.e., black classical music
not Martin Luther King, Jr.'s pseudo white liberals
multi-cultural leave niggas on bottom motherfuckas
Farrakhan say wherever he went over the world
black man woman on bottom
Communist Socialist Capitalist Muslim Christian Jewish
black man woman on bottom
ancestors say
bottom rail top
bottom rail top
JB say the Big Payback is a mother....
poor white man ask me fa a dollar
I said white man would you rather have $500.00 or one dollar?
White man said $500.00
I said, "White man, come back tomorrow faya $500.00
he he walked away in silence.
In the moment between light and darkness be still
peace be still.
the storm is ova now
the storm is ova
we rejoice
motion in ocean
Amiri Baraka said
In the middle of the Atlantic ocean
a railroad of human bones
the king sold the farmer to the ghost
in the middle of the Atlantic ocean
railroad of human bones
king sold farmer to the ghost
king sold farmer to the ghost......
rise up North American Africans
rise from low information vibration
no excuse with cell phone
Becky tell you everything
Becky don't lie
Did you mean?
Did you mean?
rise from tricycle to ten speed
rise
In the middle of the Atlantic ocean
railroad of human bones
Amiri Baraka say
don't let them take yo um boom ba boon
if they take yo um boom ba boom
you in deep trouble
take you centuries to get out....
We love you Ancestor AB.
We love Amina too.
We love Baraka family.
--Marvin X
10/13/18
#160 I saw Toby today
I saw Toby today
400 years later
I saw Toby today
down from Kunta Kinti
royal robes of Maa't
today funky
stinkin'
Toby
came in Peet's Coffee
Lakeshore Oakland
sat down at black woman table
she don't know what to say
Terrified Toby at her table
sippin' her Latte
tried to sit cool
Toby fool sick
Kinti mind dead
way backin' time
1619
was it Kinti's crime
Toby Villain victim
African army of Tobys
disabled veterans of US war on Toby
call Toby drugs crime in the street
deranged disoriented
I love the Whispers line
Lost and Turned out
on way to Grandmother's house
Toby
Elijah say lost-found socalled Negro
I call him North American Africa
Elijah say he Aboriginal Asiatic Black Man
Maker Owner Planet Earth
Really
This Toby in Peet's Coffee
If he own it will he claim it
too sick to claim own mind
Young dread lock brother ask Toby to leave
dread brother know Toby
know Toby sick
he kind to Toby
Young dread brother know Elijah lesson The Proper Handling of People
Tony pull up pants
Black woman sign relief
And this is my king
this Toby thang
no thanks
Where is Kunta
rise Kunta
Rise and take me home
yes
through door of no return
Malcolm X said we left our minds in Africa
rise Kunta
don royal robes
let us depart as we came in the water
submerged
we sail path Baraka told
"In the Atlantic Ocean
railroad of human bones....
King sold farmer to ghost
King sold farmer to ghost...."
Take me Kunta
no more Toby please
kill Toby hang him please
Toby no good nobody
Recycle Toby
let Kunta speak
speak Kunta
spit your royal rap
spit Hebrew Christian Muslim Yoruba Ma'at Sufi Sunni Democratic Socialist Communist Troskyist
Vudun Santeria Candomble' Holy Ghost Five Per Cent Noble Drew Ali Democrat Negro Republican Negro spit
gender sex gods
ocean gods rivers
mountain gods money gods
kill mama daddy money gods
speak
King Kunta speak
no silencia por favor
digame digame digame
stand Toby as Kunta
once again
at the crossroads of Legba Eshu Ptah Peter
Can Toby wash in river ocean stream
wash baptism of return
wash
drum ancestor rhythms
bata
djembe
conga
listen Toby listen good
let drum heal heart.
listen Toby listen good
God hears those who praise Him
Our Lord to Thee is due all praise.
Sami Allahu liman al hamida
Rabbana na laki al hamd.
---marvin x
1/17/19
#161 Smart People
The smart people
smarter than God people
God did not create Smart people
Smart people created God
gave birth to the God idea
There was no God before smart people
They are the mothers and fathers of God
Smart people made God in their image power glory
They define God
He does not define Smart people
Smart people marry trees dogs horses cows
do anything their hearts desire
murder lie steal rape plunder lands
destroy souls of men women children
The lands of smart people
havens of every filthy unclean bird
God cannot save smart people
nor will smart people save God.
--Marvin X
12/19/18
4 comments:
Eric WattreeDecember 20, 2018 at 1:15 AM
I have mixed emotions about this piece. I love the craftsmanship, but I don't like seeing the word "smart" being equated with ignorance. I know the author is trying to make the point that the people he's describe only THINK their smart, but nevertheless, it is essential that we ALWAYS relate the word "smart" and the concept of "intellect" with the positive, otherwise many anti-intellectuals will use it as an excuse for being anti-intellectual, and that's already a problem in the Black community. Far too many of us equate the words "smart" and "intellectual" with Whiteness, and seem to think that Black people have a moral obligation to be ignorant. Far too many of us see ignorance as cool and it is essential to fight that tendency in the Black community. There's a reason for that we've developed that attitude, but it would require an entire essay to explain it. So personally, I like to read poetry that either speak to profound truths, or inspire us to seek higher ground.
Reply
A. Nzinga, MA, MFA December 22, 2018 at 9:13 AM
smart and intellect do not equate to positive --
it's what you do with intellect that matters.
The authors "smart" people are not made larger by their intellect- they make the world smaller.
Reply
BRUCE GEORGE December 23, 2018 at 7:55 PM
By Smart people defining God, that puts their smartness in the pejorative, and thus makes not only the world smaller, but makes them smaller.
Reply
baba zayid December 27, 2018 at 1:37 PM
as we say in candid wilderness ebonix…
I love that sh*t!
#162 VIP Niggas and rape
Allegations of rape go back to Biblical times, remember Joseph and the vizier's wife? She attempted to rape him, but lied to her husband that Joseph was the villain, which almost cost Joseph his head, it did get him thrown into the dungeon. He was high profile and all men in such a position are a danger to themselves when approached by women who want to be with the "star." Now some men are rapist outright, some of their actions being culturally approved, part of male socialization. As a teenager, we committed gang rape every Sunday at the show, a consistent act along with popcorn, cartoons and the white man killing Indians.
What a horrible act of manhood training that I'm sure didn't help our later sexual relations, especially in my case because I would later rape my wife every night, every day and twice on Sunday. Yes, in my patriarchal way of thinking, I owned my wife's body, mind and soul. I was insatiable and she had a duty to satisfy me no matter how she felt, tired, sick or otherwise. Don't tell me to go to sleep or wait until tomorrow--fuck tomorrow, give up the funk or get yo ass kicked b.
Sounds like something from the Flintstones and of course it is. At least that's how it was, and although I have matured and reformed, seems that many of my brothers haven't heard the news that cave men can do time for taking pussy, even from their wives.
Somehow, the message must go out that we can't get away with such actions any longer, especially after OJ, Mike Tyson, R Kelly and numerous other rappers, entertainers and athletes. Brothers, what part don't you get, what dots can't you connect? And how important is pussy to you, is it really worth your entire career, your very freedom for a hot moment of passion in the dressing room, rest room,bathroom or bedroom because a two dollar ho wants to be in your presence?
Of course every woman wants to be with a star, to share the limelight, if only for a hot minute, a moment to remember, or just to set you up, maybe for the white man, and you go for it like Simple Simon. We can't blame the woman for knocking our hotel door down. Dr. Hare says, "If you don't want the harlot, don't open the door." Game supposed to recognize game, but obviously some nigguhs can't see the devil in the blue dress: you open the door and next thing you know you're facing twenty-five years to life. How could you've been that stupid--simple, ego tripping, thinking you're the hog with the big nuts, you can have all the girls. I've gone through it in theatre: the unwritten law in theatre is that the director gets the first shot at the new recruit, wannabe actress or actor. And there were times when I had so many women, other women refused to give me pussy, they said, "No, Marvin, you got too much pussy already, leave me alone."
And on tour, women will beat you to your hotel room. You can't get into your room for the women lined up at your door. What is a man to do? Life on the road is lonely. What do you do after the applause. You want to freak! Well, better have some discretion because a moment of freaking may cost you big money and big time, plus may cost your health, ask Magic Johnson, Ezey E.
Where are your bodyguards, your security? Get them on their job or you won't have a job.
You won't have a life. No, you will not be a member of the sucker free club!
#163 Same sex marriage and straight men
It matters not to me whether gays and lesbians can legally marry. It's none of my business. And maybe this new marriage configuration will serve as a model for human relationships, still it is not my concern, since I am not into that lifestyle, although I do love lesbians, speaking as a dirty old man.
But seriously, my concern is with straight men, and I have been involved with the men's movement since we produced the Black Men's Conference at the Oakland Auditorium, 1980.
I am ashamed of straight men for being unorganized and hypocritical, since they want to condemn gays and lesbians for their lifestyle, yet straight men cannot entertain prostitutes, ho's, sex workers or whatever you want to call women who charge men for sex. A friend's wife told me, "I know I'm just a ho in disguise." So marriage can be called prostitution as well but I am really concerned with straight men who appear angry and jealous at gays and lesbians because they have organized for their rights, no matter what we think about them. They have come together to fight for the right to legally marry. And the irony is that straight couples have little right to condemn the gays/lesbians when 50% of straight marriages end in divorce.
And of course the two main reasons are issues of sex and finance, with the resultant domestic violence, including verbal and emotional abuse. Perhaps straight people need to consider a reconfiguration of so-called monogamy, especially with respect to sex outside of marriage. In short, I favor legalization of prostitution, but this would require straight men to get organized as the gays and lesbians have done, but instead of fighting for the rights of straight men to exercise their human right to have sex with whomever they please, they are exhausting their time fighting against same sex marriage. Look at yourself, straight men, look in the mirror at your behavior, Tiger Woods, Kobe Bryant, McNair (now deceased). With your billions and millions, you cannot have sex with whomever you desire but must be treated like a criminal dog, beaten by your spouse, murdered in your sleep and charged with criminal behavior, including rape, only because you have not organized yourselves to secure the rights you desire and deserve.
As men, you are pitiful, especially with your billions and millions of dollars, yet get treated like a dog. How can you call yourself a man when you must sneak around in the alley, lie, cheat, or steal away into the night to be with the one you love--or the other one you love.
Thus, in your powerlessness, in your jealousy and envy, you waste your time condemning the gays and lesbians for doing their thing yet you can't do shit. You are less than a gay and lesbian on the scale of humanity. Get organized for your rights and leave other people's rights alone.
And tell your wives they don't own your dicks and you don't own their pussies.
#164 Parable of the moment
Parable of the Moment
Life is only a moment in time, a flash, and then onto the next moment that may be joy or pain, thus we must never get overly sad or overjoyed with life, all is but a moment, so enjoy the good times, a sister said, and when the bad times come, roll with the punches. In recovery they teach don't get too happy and don't get too sad.
When joy comes know sadness is soon to follow, for there is most certainly no everlasting joy, nor everlasting sadness. Al Qur'an says after difficulty comes ease. And so we flow with the flow, ever knowing positive and negative are one and the same, one cannot exist without the other, just as the sun follows rain and rain follows sun. Such is the cycle of the moment, the essence of life, thus we must cherish the moments we spend together, the days, hours, years, minutes, for then comes another time, space, energy, spirit.
The lovers thought they would never part, but in an instant it was over due to some transgression, violation of vows, trust, faith. It could be a minor or major violation, yet it is over.
One lover feels be betrayed, dishonored, but only an instant before they were the world's greatest lovers, inseparable, then the crash, they tumbled down the hill into the chasm of nothingness and dread.
The sun turned to blood, the love bed into a prison. In this moment there is silence, for words cannot heal the broken heart, the crushed spirit, only time, if then, but yes, time heals all wounds, even the broken heart, for the lovers shall come back together or they shall find themselves with another.
Now it may be the same person with a different name, if they have not mastered the lessons of life. They try to convince themselves they are with somebody new, yet it is the same old soul, transferred into another body. The habits are the same. The gullibility is the same, no lessons from past experience are mastered, in short, insanity is in the air, in the soul of lovers too ignorant to know the test of love, the many ways it is and always shall be.
And so the moment is stretched into years, sometimes with children, complicating the moment in time, standing time on its head, yet no meaning, no understanding came about. For they met in a moment of darkness, at the bar, party, drunk, a moment in time that stretched into years and lives misunderstood, for they never knew each other but merely performed meaningless rituals based on meaningless myths.
A man at a bar asked his friend why he appeared not to like the woman flirting with him. He answered, "Right, I don't like the woman flirting with me. Why should I when I have a woman at home I've been with for thirty years that I don't like."
--Marvin X
6/5/10
#165 Parable of Letting Go
Hold onto nothing but the rope of God, the Divine force within us that connects us to all that is righteous and true, to the source of energy for all creation, thus we must never be swayed by the one billion illusions of the monkey mind that Guru Bawa taught us about, those imaginings and wonderings that cause lack of faith in ourselves and the Divine power to bring us in contact with all that is good, righteous and holy—yes, the power of love that brings our beloved within our grasp.
But we should know that nothing lasts forever, so be prepared for the day of separation from our beloved, even though we vow to be dedicated for life. In the arms of our beloved we are selfless, for all is for the beloved, to make her satisfied that we are the one and only one to make her feel complete.
Without the beloved we suffer the emptiness and grief of the reed when cut from the reed bed. There is the eternal yearning for the return to the source of our creation which was love. Material things can never satisfy the longing in our heart for the connection to the Divine we feel when serving our beloved.
All selfishness must go, only the selfless feels the joy and pain of love. “We feed you for Allah’s pleasure only. We desire from you neither reward nor thanks.” Whenever the beloved desires to depart, let her go in the name of Love. Wish her well, and pray she will go safely to her lover.
If she never returns, pray that she finds love wherever she rests. For the bed of love is infinite, thus one door closes and another opens. But true love always seeks to return to the source of the first flame in the fire of love. We never forget that flame no matter where we go in our wanderings, for the lover who opened our heart in the name of love is remembered with fondness and joy.
It was the first lover’s touch that cut us from the reed bed and made us know the power of love. Those lovers who feel they cannot be without the object of their love, are sick with love and need to be treated for their addiction to white supremacy, a form of domination and oppression under the delusion that one can control the lover, even own the lover, while we are not to be controlled by anyone or anything except the Creator of the Universe, God Almighty.
No lover controls us, no lover owns us—we belong to God, not to any lover, no matter how much they proclaim they love us. When the lover proclaims they love us more than God, they are a lie and are behaving in the manner of devils who wish to deceive us and control us in the manner of master over slaves.
How can you love me, yet you wish to kill me? You do not even love yourself but rather, you are coming in the spirit of Satan who wishes to dominate and oppress. Your love must be rejected for the sham that it is. Go somewhere and find yourself, process your issues and heal yourself of white supremacy thinking.
#166 MOPD hits Howard University, Wash. DC
Parable of Mythology of Pussy and Dick Hits Howard University, Washington, DC
September 29, 2009
Defining Myth
Myth is all there is, like air, without myth we cannot breathe, therefore we die. Myth is the essence of religion. There are no rituals without myth--myth is the story, the word, hence the foundation of ritual. We take the myth and create the drama as in the original Osirian drama of resurrection, first the story then the enactment of the story, followed by the absorption of myth into the social-psychology of a people .Myth then becomes the foundation of culture, the purpose of existence and the goal of after-life. Yes, culture is all that we do but all that we do is based on the myths we live by.
Transcending myth it is an awesome challenge to the psyche and thus to the society. What white person wants to give up the myth of white supremacy. It is the essence of their being. Shall they become black? But black is not simply a color, it is a culture that is bound by myth as well. When we suggest giving up myth, we realize the task is daunting, for what shall a person stand upon, what rock, what reality?
We want the schools to change but again it shall involve dismantling the American mythology, all the lies, stories, dreams, holidays, statues, images, symbols that abound the society--in short, a deracialisation and a decolonialization must occur—or call it detoxification.
The teachers cannot teach a different way because they are victims of myth as well, trapped in their white supremacy mythology which is the essence of all they have been taught and certified to teach.
The Narrative
After promoting his hit monograph Mythology of Pussy (A Manual for Manhood and Womanhood Training) on the streets of Oakland where he conducts an outdoor classroom at 14th and Broadway, Marvin X took off on a national tour, including guerilla hits in Houston, Texas, Grambling State University, Louisiana, and Jackson, Mississippi where he gave away Mythology at the Jackson State/Grambling football game. A few black Christian women threw his pamphlet on the ground. But the poet understands no part of no. He continued giving away his most controversial piece of writing, undeterred by the rejection from those steeped in religiosity, intellectuals in perpetual crisis (see Harold Cruse’s Crisis of the Black Intellectual) and the pseudo conscious hip hop generation and black revolutionary puritans. X is buoyed by the black mothers who read Mythology and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—I am demanding my son and daughter read this!” See his response to the Common People of Oakland www.marvinxwrites.blogspot.com.
On Thursday he arrived on the campus of Howard University and spoke to the classes of professors Tony Medina and Gregory Carr, two of the brightest black scholars in America. His talk was covered in the Hilltop, the daily student voice of Howard University. Editor Tahirah Hairston reported Marvin X took the students on “a mental rollercoaster.” The editor did a long, detailed interview with the provocative poet as they lunched on “Soul food Day” at the Howard cafeteria, guests of Dr. Medina, a gifted poet himself. X told the Hilltop mythology cannot be separated from white supremacy, “They are interrelated. “It came from mythology, the concept of woman,” he said. “In order to recover from white supremacy (and in the process the mythology of pussy) we must boycott”-- the institutions that promote it, the white version of Christianity, the conspicuous consumption our men (and especially our women) do at malls and stores. We must detoxify, the first step in the recovery process: turn off the television, turn off the white supremacy music in black face, attending and/or watching the movies, watching the fake news, yes, even attending white supremacy colleges and universities, although Marvin promotes knowledge of self or “Supreme Wisdom.”
According to the Hilltop report, “The class discussion surrounded the topic of the underlying meanings of the word “pussy…examples were used from Jezebel, the Virgin Mary, Samson and Delilah to the lyrics in hip hop songs.” Don’t leave out Eve in the garden with Adam, poor soul; he went for the apple Eve gave him and has been doomed ever since to sin and destruction for following his woman! This mythology has been bought hook, line and sinker by Western society, hoodwinked and bamboozled into the condemnation of women, who somehow outsmarted men in the garden and must pay for it til eternity.
“If a woman says her pussy is gold, does that make my dick silver or are we equal” the Hilltop reported X said. We open the Mythology of Pussy with the following words:
Pussy is a many splendid thing. Pussy power has been known to help construct civilizations and destroy them. Wars have been fought over pussy. And the most powerful men in the world have been brought low behind pussy. What a powerful thing it is, totally confounding men time after time, season after season, century after century. The more men learn about pussy, the more they forget—or shall we say, they got it (theory) but didn’t get it (the practice).
But, alas! Let us cut to the situation at Howard University where we are told women outnumber men 14 to 1! If these stats are correct or only half correct, we have a conundrum of tremendous proportion. And I am inclined to refer to my colleague Ramal Lamar, a grad student in mathematics who says we can understand everything in terms of a mathematic proposition. I have been unable to reach Ramal on my tour, but I imagine he might have a solution to the conundrum.
As a poet, let me imagine a solution to 14 women on an island with 1 man, what shall they do, what configuration shall they create to solve their bio-psychosexual stress and trauma, especially after having exhausted the sexual dilemma, i.e., after both genders have sucked and fucked—thus the essential question is what’s next now?
The brothers tell me they are looking for the ideal woman, who possesses mind, body and soul. The women simply want a man who will love them totally, one on one, as in the western tradition of monogamy. Are not both genders dreaming like Martin Luther King, Jr.? The woman who possesses mind, body and soul is a romantic idealistic notion at best. And in a situation of 14:1, the woman who seeks a monogamous relationship is idealistic and romantic, although it is clear some women are of a strong spirit, strong enough to make a nigguh bow down to mama’s demands, to eat the apple in the garden in all its fullness.
My host told me of his father whose mother was able to make her husband bow down only with the collusion of the church—she told her son she demanded her husband attend church because she knew the church would exercise control over him.
Thus the church is a co-conspirator in this mythological drama, for it extends or perpetuates the mythology of pussy with its tales of Eve, Virgin Mary, Jezebel, Ruth, Samson and Delilah and other sexist stories of women who brought men under control.
The question for me is why do men need to be controlled? And simultaneously, why do women need to be controlled? Not that I am advocating freedom because I know better—Sun Ra taught me the need for discipline in both genders.
But let us get to a solution to the conundrum. Polygamy seems the simple solution, although I was a total and absolute failure with polygamy, monogamy, and polyandry. Oh, yes, I had the “other woman” and I’ve been “the other man.” So it difficult for me to offer you a solution although I must, since you are at the precipice and about to jump.
My answer: detoxify from the values of Western civilization, such as greed, selfishness, jealousy, envy, conspicuous consumption and reach the higher ground of communalism or sharing, loving your sisters to the degree you allow them to share the man physically and spiritually. After all, you are sharing them anyway, albeit in a totally chaotic and disorganized manner that is a danger to community health (look at the HIV/AIDS crisis, especially in Washington, DC), and, according to Baba Lumumba, it's all about community, not individuality or exceptionalism that is of primary concern to those addicted to white supremacy. Baba says everything should be about community, including the mission of education at institutions such as Howard University. Education should not be about qualifying for a job and preparing for family, rather to serve community. If men and women understand this they will be willing to share and sacrifice for the greater goal of community, not just their individual relations and families which takes us again to the addiction to white supremacy mythology or values.
As per education, around the country black studies departments are celebrating the fortieth anniversary of struggle, yet the community mission and connection has been largely lost and forgotten in the rush to be absorbed into academia. As brother Ptah noted,“Black studies went to college and never came home to community.”
Opportunists sought tenure rather than struggle and community upliftment. Nearly all the community oriented radical faculty was purged nationwide. Those pliant negroes or careerists who remained only turned to community when racism and/or department funding was in jeopardy—suddenly they remembered their community connection.
According to Bernard Stringer, a BSU student striker at San Francisco State University where there was a bloody battle to establish the first black studies program on a major university campus, the community outreach and involvement lasted one year, consisting of tutorial programs and classes. Of course I dropped out of San Francisco State University to found Black Arts West Theatre and Black House with playwright Ed Bullins, essayist Eldridge Cleaver and revolutionary sister Hurriyah Asar. In 1966 BSU students organized two major radical publications that helped spark the liberation and consciousness movement, Black Dialogue and the Journal of Black Poetry. The Journal of Black Poetry is important not only for having the largest collection of poets in American literary history, but also for the news section that told of events nationwide, revealing the national scope of the liberation movement. Joe Goncalves or Dingane was editor and publisher. Associate and guest editors included Amiri Baraka, Askia Toure, Sonia Sanchez, Haki Madhubuti, Larry Neal and myself.
The staff of Black Dialogue (Art Sheridan was founding editor, Abdul, Peter and Aubrey Labrie, Duke Williams, Sadaat Ahmed and myself were editors) traveled to Soledad prison to do outreach with the black culture club, of which Eldridge Cleaver was chair and Alprentice Bunchy Carter was his chief lieutenant. This club would become recognized as the beginning of the prison movement in America, spouting Cleaver and George Jackson as literary and revolutionary icons. Our visit reveals to symbiosis of students, black artists, inmates and former inmates who forged the liberation movement in tandem with community people. It is almost impossible to separate the black student movement, black studies, black arts and black power movements, they were essentially the same because the same people were involved at various times.
In 1967, Amiri Baraka was invited by the BSU to SFSU to establish a communications projects that performed in the community. We were joined by Askia Toure, Sonia Sanchez, Sarah Webster Fabio, Chicago Art Ensemble and other artists. Black House, Black Arts West and the BSU sponsored communications project were the half way house for brothers and sisters who received black consciousness and went on to join the Black Panther Party and the Nation of Islam. Contrary to Larry Neal, I say the Black Arts was the mother not sister of the black power movement. Brothers and sisters entered the Black Arts Movement then advanced to political organizations such as the Black Panters, also many went into the Nation of Islam, including myself, 1967.
BSU student George Murray performed in Baraka’s project, then joined the Black Panthers as minister of education. San Francisco City College student Emory Douglas came to Black House then joined the Black Panthers. Emory became minister of culture. Even Bobby Seale was in my theatre before founding the Black Panthers with Huey Newton. Black Student Union women included Mary Anna Waddy (Mar’yam Wadai), Mary Lewis, Ramona Tascoe (the first person arrested in the 1968 strike), Dhammeera Ahmed, Sharron Treskunoff, Kondi, Jo Ann Mitchell, et al. BSU strike leaders included the above sisters plus Bernard Stringer, Jerry Vernado, Benny Stewart, Terry Collins, Jimmy Garrett, Nesbitt Crutchfield, and Danny Glover. Danny also performed in my Black Arts West Theatre.
In a phone conversation with Bobby Seale last night, he emphasized the community programs of the BPP, the newspaper (minister of distribution Samuel Napier, a community person who came to black house looking to get involved (see James Brown's song)--there were independent schools,the free breakfast program that was later adopted by the US Government, prison transportation project, the ambulance service in Winston-Salem, NC. The Sickle Cell testing projects served over one million blacks in five years. The Panther Party began with community patrol of police. As Bobby noted, these were tangible programs, not abstractions. “Grass roots community organizing was what the BPP was all about,” he said.
So community is the objective, although family issues are paramount simply because it was family that slavery and colonialism destroyed. Therefore the first question is how can we reconstruct family, then the larger one of how we reconstruct community, society and the black nation.
Students must realize that until they revolutionize their thinking and transcend the Western mythological paradigm, the psychosexual issues at Howard University and elsewhere will persist without end. We must think outside of the box of Western mythology because we need the trauma and stress to end immediately so we can get on to more important questions and critical issues such as black liberation and freedom.
Baba Lumumba, himself a founding member of the short-lived Black Panther Party of Northern California, another Oakland group that was an offshoot of the Revolutionary Action Movement or RAM (Robert F. Williams, Muhammad Ahmed, et al), says the Obama presidency will “…probably bring about some degree of positive change here in the USA and the rest of the world. But for that change to have any real impact on African people, other than through the positive image of black familyhood that Barack Obama’s family represents, we must work even harder than in the past, in large part because the possibilities are greater.” He says, “Over the many years of struggle, one thing has become clear: we can’t wait for a savior and should not now. Our oppressive condition has dictated that courageous African men and women rise up and continue to strike a blow for liberation. Nothing less is required now.”
The Hilltop reported a senior psychology major, Ife-Chudeni Oputa brought up the point that as a woman she suffers from the same double consciousness that African Americans suffer from in a world dominated by white men. “We have to look at ourselves through male eyes because it is a male dominated society!” she said.
Baba Lumumba, my host in DC, says we must arrive at a holistic solution, not a partial one such as feminism which is exclusive to women, or masculinism that is exclusive as well, or gay/lesbianism which is gender exclusive, or the progressive black bourgeoisie Democratic Party sycophants, the reactionary religiosity of the masses or Marxism that is limited to intellectuals, but a solution that will/can embrace all of us, male/female, elders, intellectuals, artists, gays/lesbians, black bourgeoisie, workers, students, etc. We need a community solution!
I offer a solution in my book How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy, Black Bird Press, wherein I present 13 steps to recover from the mythology of white supremacy. It is a manual for establishing Pan African mental health peer groups on the AA model or Alcoholic Anonymous.
We come together in peer groups, male and female, to process our issues, whether psychosexual, psycholinguistic, anger management issues, conspicuous consumption,fear, especially fear of success, forgiveness, reconciliation, social activism.
Dr. Nathan Hare advocates the mental health peer group in light of the dearth of mental health workers to address the myriad issues facing our people. He says no amount of sex, money, drugs, religiosity, conspicuous consumption will satisfy our social angst and shattered cultural strivings.
Howard University students are invited to an off campus intergenerational discussion on critical black male issues at the Umoja House, Wednesday, September 30, 6pm, 2015Bunker Hill Rd. NE, Wash. DC 20018.Call 202-309-3443.
Marvin X Speaks Today at Howard University, Architecture Room 210, 5pm
Howard University, Final Notes
Marvin X ended his visit at Howard University with a reading/discussion of Mythology of Pussy, specifically focusing on psychosexuality at Howard. But it wasn’t until the end of his lecture/discussion that a female student dropped a bomb on him, telling him the answer he had been seeking: how Howard women deal with the brothers to satisfy their sexual needs. A sister whispered to him, “Mr. X, we get what we want from the brothers by tossing them around. They think they’re tossing us, but we do the tossing. If we want Joe tonight, we get him, then let another sister have him the next night, but he thinks he’s getting over on us—it ain’t so. We calling the shots! If a girl wants Dante and another does as well, we tell one girl to hold up, let sister have Dante tonight, you get him tomorrow. That’s how we do it.” And so it is. As Nisa Ra said in her comments on Mythology of Pussy, “Men think they are players when, in fact, they are getting played. He thinks it’s his pussy—but he don’t have a pussy!”
Howard student President L. Davis, my homeboy from the Bay (Richmond, Ca—and thanks Prez for your assistance while I was at Howard)—said during the meeting that the girls chose “silly nigguhs” rather than real down brothers, real men! My thought is that silly girls chose silly nigguhs, especially since it’s all about pussy and dick, nothing more, although I called upon students to get to a higher level as Phavia says in her poem Yo, Yo, Yo: “If you think I’m just a physical thing, wait til you see the spiritual power I bring….” Students appeared to understand the need to resocialize and recover from the addiction to white supremacy mythology. For now though, it’s all about P and D as Sun Ra called it.
One brother came to the meeting only to give me five dollars since he had gotten a pamphlet last week. He told me he’d read it and that I was on the right path. He said, “Don’t back up, don’t back up, keep going forward with Mythology of Pussy.” Indeed, when I asked the audience should I say Mythology of P—they said hell no, say Mythology of Pussy!
In my final remarks on Howard, I must give an evaluation of my host professor, Dr. Greg Carr, one of the finest young scholars black America has produced. From what I heard and observed, he is well loved by students. I would say he is the hardest working man in academia—the James Brown of black scholars—I was exhausted watching him teach. As brother Ptah (another bright scholar from San Francisco State University who is my colleague) noted, “Dr. Carr is like a rapper with his high energy level.” Indeed, he paces back a forth from black board to black board, writing important names, places and dates.
He is thorough and detailed, going through the text word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, page by page. But while this is an index of his acumen, it reveals the abject failure of students coming prepared to his lecture. As he said to me, simply, “They don’t read!” And so he must essentially baby-sit them because they come to class unprepared, forcing him to go through the text they should have read beforehand. This reveals their laziness, sloth and lack of respect for the great mind before them. This is one reason I am not in academia: I would kick those slothful nigguhs out my class. I would not baby-sit them—either come prepared or get the hell out. If I’m prepared, you better be also—don’t disrespect me. I’m here to give you knowledge, you’re giving me nothing except revealing your negrocities (Baraka term).”
But perhaps Dr. Carr realizes the students are victims of American education that makes them dumb at best—compared to what? Not compared to white American students but compared to students in China and India, students whose genius and fortitude is reflected in the rapid advance of their nations in the era of globalism. This is why the white man is outsourcing to India and China. Why should he pay an American MBA $140,000 per year when he can hire an Indian MBA for $14,000 per year who is just as, if not more qualified than his American counterpart?
And so I call upon Howard students to come out of their sloth and give Dr. Carr, Dr. Tony Medina and other young scholars equal energy and effort. In the words of Marcus Garvey, up you mighty people, you can accomplish what you will! And in the words of David Walker, let us dispel our ignorance and wretchedness in consequence of education.
Marvin X
Howard University
Washington, DC
30 September, 2009
#167 TIGER WOODS AND THE MYTHOLOGY OF DICK
Tiger Woods is a case study in the addiction to white supremacy mythology. For sure, we cannot understand the mythology of pussy of the mythology of dick until we place them within the construct of white supremacy mythology, the patriarchal ideology of domination and ownership.
Only within this context can we understand the need to possess females as sexual beings or chattel rather than spiritual beings. It is beyond the imagination of western man or eastern man to entertain having a plethora of women who are not only of sexual but spiritual consciousness. Instead, we have a need for the sexuality of women, not their totality as spiritual beings with whom we can relate and converse on the highest level, but only on the carnal.
Tiger’s apology for his actions were the pitiful renderings of a man trapped in the western mythological matrix, doomed to attempt the impossible task of sublimating hs awesome sexual powers for the western paradigm of monogamy. He is typical of western man whose creative energy seeks an outlet in multiple sex partners.
Ironically, about the same time Tiger was under duress, the president of South Africa was celebrating marriage with his third wife, the two other wives on hand to co-sign the marriage. Tiger is this caught in a constricting myth/ritual that forces his submission to a system that is a desecration of his character, for he apparently has an awesome sexual urge and/or capacity.
What he needs to do is jump out of this western myth/ritual and find himself in an Afro-Asian psycho sexual modality. In short, he has enough money to live the life he pleases. In this society, he is a disgrace to all men who seek multiple women, wether for sexual or spiritual purposes. His pitiful wife should have stood beside him and co-signed his need and right to have as many women as he pleased, whether sexual workers or wives.
Instead, she was absent, though his mother was present. But we assume he is not sleeping with his mother, so his wife’s absence was a tll-tale sight that she is in control of matters and he is a wimp, a pititful skeleton of a man who shall never exercise control of his domestic life.
We are to believe that he is at her wim, that he shall be forever sorry and apologetic for betraying her trust and their love vows. Tiger’s real crime is that he went against the teachings and advice of his father who told him not to get married. When we go against our father, there is no hope for us.
Tiger is no different than any man in a position of power, this subjected to the siren call of females who desire to be with a star, and the star desires to be with them. Yes, this can be called an addiction, and may men and/or women have this addictive personality. But men with money cannot be told anything. They will exercise the pwoere and authority of their position. Any woman with them should know this. Black women will tell you they cannot tell their nigguh nothing when he gets two dollars. His personality changes.
So they know how to tell him to do his thing, just come home when he’s finished. This is how classic black women used to do things with their men. These “punk bitches” of today want to kill a man for being the dog he “naturally” is, a dog who seeks to put his dick in any hole, even a hole in the ground.
I am speaking and stand on the shoulders of classic black women who taught me what they expected of their men, and most men come up short, but in the end come home to mama with their dicks in their hands. And yes, mama receives them and the men humble themselves and submit to the truth momma tried to teach them: that there’s a right way and wrong way to do things. At the very minimum, Tiger should have had a consensus with his woman to engage in his amorous adventures.
#168 PARABLE OF THE DICK SLAVE
You desire domination over your mate, your pussy. You own it, it is your chattel real or or personal property. And the woman, in her companion view, claims to own your dick. The pussy and dick drama is on. She is also addicted to white supremacy ideas of ownership and domination, thus she will kill over her dick. The NFL quarterback McNair (RIP) was shot four times in his sleep because he was giving up dick across town. Even thoug he had a wife, one of his girlfriends obviously thought she had “papers” on his dick. And we know the Thanksgiving Day present Tiger received for trying to make his booty call. Clearly his wife thinks she has eternal rights to his dick. Oh, this is called marriage?
I was asked why I did not advocate marriage in Mythology of Pussy. Nor will I advocate marriage here. When the blind lead the blind they both fall into the ditch together. Marriage should await revolution, otherwise it is doomed to fairure as we see in the present 50% divorce rate. Marriage in this society is another gamble in futility, though we praise those couples stron enough to remain together in the midst of this hell hole called capitalist swine America.
The present marital structure is a product of the full blown addiction to white supremacy materialism or conspicuous consumption, wherein the man an woman are cogs in the wheel of global wage slavery.
They are merely consumers of the capitalist blood suckers of the poor. The wife conspires and collaborates with the capitalist pimps to enslave the husband and addict him as well to consumerism until he and she retire dirt poor with all the concomitant diseases of the hostile environment they’ve endured throguout life. As an additional form of social control, she conspires with the preacher to demand church attendance of her man, making him bow down at the altar of another pimp in the name of the Lord. The poor man’s dick is caught in the vice of wage slavery pimps, the preacher, police and the deaf, dum and blind wife or mate. Again Dr. Nathan Hare:
“Of all the many disorders and distortions that plague the black male, each and every day, perhaps the ones that take the heaviest toll on his ravished brain are those that—If not contained by armed resistance—revolve around the painful difficulty of gaining control over his individual and collective destiny, around what is known in mental health circles as ”the locus of control” the dilemma resistance to the enemy from without and the enemy from within (including the self, if we consider that there can be not master without those who, for whatever reason, are willing to be a slave…”
The dick and pussy drama is thus a product of the capitalist society, though it originates in the primitive culture, especially int the mythology and ritual of religions such as Judaism, Christianity, Islam, but tradition African religions as well, although some African religions have a more balanced approach to gender relations, more sexual equality and inheritance rights. There is polygamy (plural wives) and polyandry (plural husbands). In these societies, pussy and dick relations are thus more equitable and we would therefore imagine social relations more peaceful and successful, although Africa is currently suffering widespread partner abuse and rape is pandemic. In short, dick is running wild in Africa! Still, there are those afrocentric “Kemetic” scholars who suggest we return to the philosophy of Ma’at or Egyptian religion of ten thousand years ago as a way out of our orass and before we slip over the precipice. Getting the masses of North American Africans to return to Ma’at or African philosophy is at best a romantic notion, with as much chance as the Egyptian mythology of Isis finding and reconstructing the dick of her husband. Osiris. And then again, it may indeed take the black woman to relaim her man’s dick or phallus, retrieving it and her pussy from the ravages of the addiction to white supremacy. For now, the norm is patriarchal domination, consistent with the capitalist society of ownership of property, exploitation and oppression of men, women and children—yes, the children are addicted to greedy capitalist materialism as well, the learned behavior from their parents. Imagine the gullible fools we are: a young sister was downtown Oakland coming out of Footlocker with three pair of tennis shoes that cost $370, made in China for 50 cents per pair.
We must face the sad reality that we are not in Africa, but captives of the West, of the white man’s values, sadly addicted to his dick and pussy drama until we decide to detox and recover from such aberrant social behavior that is antithetical to our psychosocial health.
#169 Parable of Toxic Love
When I mention to a woman how toxic/male female relations can be, including sexual relations, she replied, “And having no relationships can be toxic! Alas, my childhood friend and girlfriend, the poet Sherley A. Williams (RIP) used to say, “A bad relationship is better than no relationship.”
We imagine being deprived of dick can lead to the “bitter bitch syndrome,” or what Dr. Julia Hare calls sexual anorexia, starving for love, emotionally and sexually. And it is the same for men who are abstinent for a long time. They appear crazy, until they get a shot of cock, then they behave somewhat normal, unless their psychosexual were surface, while more severe mental health issues lurked in the deep structure of their minds.
Clinical psychologist, Dr. Nathan hare says no amount of money, drugs, religiosity or sex will “satisfy the social angst and shattered cultural strivings.” Men often try to medicate themselves with sex, but to no avail. We cannot hide in the pussy, we cannot cling to mama’s panties and dress tail. We cannot fuck away our oppression for after the nut, then what? After flaunting his penis and exhausting his cum, love turns to anger for some strange reason, and then the man (911) with the big dick/stick/gun is at the door. Dr. Hare tells us:
“The more the black man attempts to medicate his anxiety and to mask his depression and self- doubts with pretense and hostility, the more he finds himself in trouble with the persons he must love and be loved than with the alien representatives of the society that would control and castrate his manhood.” So the rigors and pain of life can only be addressed by social action or the process of revolution.
In my own addictive personality, no amount of sex quenched the thirst for freedom in my soul. In my madness and oppression, I thought another woman, another pussy, another hole, would cool me out. It never happened and never shall, for me or any other brother who diverts from his revolutionary mission to avenge his ancestors and fulfill his own destiny as a man.
Imagine the amount of misplaced aggression black men subject women to as a result of their fear of the white man, especially when the woman serves the black man loyally and royally as if he is King Tut. My mother-in-law said she never saw a man treated as royally as her daughter treated me, yet I subjected her to the most wretched emotional, verbal and physical abuse imaginable.
There is a vital creative energy that transcends sexuality and we must unmask that vital force driving us from revolution or madness, to resistance or submission and cowardice. One would think with all the money and women Tiger Woods has, he would be a happy man. Yet we know he is not, for there is a greater need his soul has not satisfied. Meanwhile, he shall remain the shell of a man until he confronts the demons of his sour. President Obama faces the same task. He may be President, but he knows he’s a nigguh as well. Did not he say he feared getting shot coming home to the White House some late night?
#170 Tale of Two Sistas: Julia Hare and Ayodele Nzhinga
Julia Hare's book The Political and Sexual Anorexia of the Black Woman and Ayodele Nzhinga's play Mama at Twilight/Death by Love
A Comparative Review
by Marvin X
This is a comparative review of Ayodele's play Death by Love and Dr. Julia Hare's The Sexual and Political Anorexia of the Black Woman. There is something similar in the psycholinguistics, since the lead woman in Ayo's drama is dying of AIDS and the women in Dr. Hare's book are love starved and politically apathetic, thus, they are dying as well. So essentially, our concern is the theme of death, death by innocence, by lack of faith. The woman in Ayo’s drama contracted AIDS probably by an unfaithful husband who engaged in homosexual acts while in prison. The woman had undying faith her God would save her. Julia Hare’s women have lost the desire for sex or are love starved creatures despite
their economic and academic accomplishments, simply because their men are such scoundrels caught in the psychosexuality of patriarchal socialization. Thus, they cannot be honest with their women because she wants to hear lies, even
Ayodele’s woman who has contracted AIDS doesn’t press her man to confess he has had homosexual encounters in prison. Even as AIDS is in its last stages with her, she allows her man to maintain his dignity in her overall persona of denial so well practiced by her gender group—dying yet denying! Julia’s women, in much the same mode, suffer because of psycholinguistic trauma which prevents them from achieving sexual satisfaction and the ultimate political satisfaction which Michelle Obama claims she is achieving with her man. Michelle declares she knows who she is and what she is and is clear on her role as a woman, wife, mother and
lover, and she is not going the route of the anorexic black woman. Ayo’s woman suffered a physical malady, but Julia’s women suffer a psychological and physical disease originating in the heart, flowing outward and upward to the brain with the resulting trauma and ultimate death from starvation, i.e., the
loss of desire. But I would like to suggest that the psycholinguistic tragedy is that much if not most of this trauma is brought about by the actions of the
black woman’s mouth. In short, she has forgotten how to speak the words of love to her man. For example, as a result of having multiple women and/or wives, in my life, I have learned that there are women who can speak to a man and make his
dick limp, and there are women who can speak to a man and make his dick hard and stay hard. The latter women are secure within themselves and as a result are in many cases ahead of the man simply because they know what they are doing and do
it well. While the former are women who in many cases are highly educated or trained in the white man’s way but don’t have a clue how to talk with a black man to arouse him and maintain his penis on hard. And yet, black women come to me declaring the black man hates them. No, he does not hate them, he hates their mouth, thus the high rate of domestic violence, largely brought about by the
woman’s mouth, certainly not her physicality, except of late as she is known to cut and shoot him in retaliation. But hear me clearly, I am not suggesting women become Silent Night. I am suggesting something more subtle, more feminine and
seductive, a way out of the morass of anorexia and pseudo faith. Be honest yet cleaver. Let me put my personal business in the street on this point. One of my very dear lady friends with whom I was visiting to do some writing came into the room where I was typing on the computer and asked if I minded if she masturbated while I typed. In total shock at how she came at me, I said no, and then immediately departed from the computer to satisfy her—after all, is that not what she wanted? But she came at me in such a feminine manner that it totally disarmed me, leaving me helplessly at her command. But beyond her mouth, the black woman, along with her man, must detox from white supremacy: get rid of that ugly, phony Korean hair, turn off the white TV shows brainwashing her and her children, stay out of the white man's shopping centers buying goods she
doesn't need (conspicuous consumption), give up the white Jesus (Sarapas),encourage herself and her man to become economically independent.
Teach do for self to her children. Study black and spiritual consciousness to clean the white garbage from her mind, with her man and children doing the same. And lastly, discover what her divine mission is and follow her bliss. Women without men should prepare for a man. Women who are addicted to rubber and plastic men should seek psychological help. Pretending your woman friend is your
man only takes you deeper into the morass of white supremacy psychopathology. Ayo in her Death by Love drama and Julia in her book The Sexual and Political Anorexia of the Black Woman, have given us two documents urgently needed by men
and women today. I urge you to check them out. Peace and love. --Marvin X
#171 Parable of the baby carriage
Parable of the Baby Carriage
There was a young couple arguing on the street, downtown Oakland. Two young girls were with them, one in a baby carriage and the other tagging along in silent terror. As they crossed the street, an old white woman was shouting at the young man to stop talking so disrespectfully to the woman who
appeared to be his wife or partner, she was obviously the mother of the children, but it is not clear he was the father, more than likely he was the father of maybe one child, but we don't know for
sure.
The man turned around to tell the old white lady to stay out of his business,that he was talking to "his woman," and she needed to get out of his mix. The
old white man was persistent: she continued telling him not to be so disrespectful with his speech. After crossing the street, she went her way as the couple continued fussing and cussing at each other, with the children along for the roller coaster ride they appeared accustomed.
At one point the man tried to take off with the baby in the carriage, but the woman snatched the baby out the carriage and grabbed her other little girl by the hand, leaving the man standing with the empty carriage. Now that she had herself and the children safely in hand, we thought she would go her way. But she immediately got on her cell phone and called him. He had gone down into the BART station with the baby carriage. On the phone, she begged him to bring back the carriage because she had her baby's Pampers in it.
She told him she wished he would quit tripping and acting stupid because she
didn't have time to play, she had to pick up her son at school in a little while. She told him she couldn't understand why he was tripping and that if he came over more often he could call the shots. For now, would he please bring the carriage with the Pampers so she could go handle her business. Though she begged and pleaded, the man never returned with the carriage.
He didn't know that not only were the baby Pampers in the carriage, but her little money was stashed there as well--or maybe he did, maybe that's why he
took the carriage. She walked up the street, baby in one arm, holding the hand of the little girl. She knew she couldn't waste much time with her "man" because she had to pick up her son from school, and if she were late again, the school had warned her they were going to call Child Protective Services who might take her son.
She disappeared up the street, torn between getting her money out the carriage and getting her son from school. We don't know if she ever caught up with "baby daddy" or her "man."
--Marvin X
3/16/10
#172 The Dick and the Gun
In contrast to the pussy and the power therein, here we speak of the dick as the ultimate symbol and instrument of power, yet difficult to
describe in its vicissitudes. Perhaps if we equate the dick with the gun, we can imagine its awesome power, for together they share the power of life and death. From them come the life and death of the breathing world. For sure, pussy has the power of life as well, although only of late has the organ itself become an instrument of death, especially as per the HIV/AIDS pandemic, although initially this pandemic was thought to be a disease caused by male homosexual relations.
But the many homicides in the hood over sexual transgressions suggests the close relationship between the dick and guns. Nigguhs will kill over sexual improprieties in a moment, especially a moment of passion when they discover their best friend has taken sexual liberties with their woman. I say half the brothers are in prison, not behind dope or money, but over sex. After emotional and physical abuse, their woman when out and got some revenge dick. And the brother went insane when she confessed that, yes, indeed, she got some dick from his best friend--and it was good. After all, he had fucked her best friend numerous times, even had a baby by him. Jesus wept.
But in our discussion of the Mythology of Dick, keep in mind that the gun is its extension to exercise power in the world. The gun is the dick by other means. To speak of the Mythology of Dick is to acknowledge the power of the patriarchy or male authority. And the dick or phallus/penis is the great symbol of male authority and worship, for it has the awesome magical power to entrance women like a charming snake, addicting them until they cannot imagine not having this "vital" organ inside their pussy.
# 173 Parable of Value
....Plato thought further on the matter of value. Value, he mused, can be surmised by considering the relationship between two women. One woman is a classic, another a two dollar hoe. Yet, the classic woman has hoe qualities and the hoe has classic qualities. Thus they both have intrinsic value. The classic woman has holiness and hoeness, and the hoe has holiness and hoeness.
The classic woman has the value of selflessness in her holiness. And the hoe has selflessness in her hoeness, i.e., she is willing to give her love to all
willing to pay for her services. The classic woman reflects the hoe's selflessness in sharing her love with many, except she doesn't charge for her services. She may request flowers and wine, and maybe trinkets from her lovers from time to time. The hoe may get these items in addition to her fee,
especially if she has a positive attitude that tricks appreciate in a hoe. She will often get a bonus because tricks value attitude.
We see both ladies have intrinsic value as human beings and must be respected as such--they are not to be abused nor disrespected in any way,physically, verbally or emotionally. We can try to make a distinction between the value of the two women, but it is false, especially if one has an emotional connection to both types of women. In either case, as spiritual beings, both emanate a positive vibration, an aura of holiness that is external and internal.
It is possible to learn the value of life from both types of women. The classic woman can teach one to appreciate the finer things of life, to not be a brute, a
savage, to be gentle and civil. She will not tolerate disrespect, unless she becomes addicted to the golden handcuffs syndrome wherein she submits to harsh treatment by her well heeled mate to the extent she will reduce her value to that of the two dollar hoe to maintain a certainstandard of existence, better known as the world of make believe.
The holly hoe will tell you to not be so rough, be gentle. You're too rough to be a pimp! And so, Plato mused, love the one your with, recognize and respect their value. No one is useless, valueless, everyone has a function. Thus, one object of life is to discern the value of each human being, beginning with self.
What is one's own value or self worth?How can one recognize and respect value in another without knowing the value of oneself? It is abysmal ignorance of self worth that allows human beings to kill and destroy each other in the hood.
In the interconnectedness of the universe, to kill another is to kill oneself! When you kill your brother you kill yourself. How can you enjoy life when you
have taken life. As a special forces soldier said to me, no one who has ever been to war is sane. In Iraq, some US soldiers said they used to stand watch at night until they said they knew they
deserved death because of all the killing
they'd done, so they stop doing post at night and went to sleep. They knew in devaluing others, they had devalued themselves.
When you kill, you are a dead man walking yourself. You must eternally watch your back, watch your siblings, your children, your mama and daddy, because you know revenge is coming for your ass, it is only a matter of time.
Further, how can you enjoy eating while your brother is starving. Why will you not feed your brother? Why will you not give him a dollar for a hamburger when
you have a hunid in your pocket? Can you not imagine a day when your brother may need to feed you? Thus, your brother has value--every dog has his day, to use a cliche.
During slavery the North American African had value as chattel property. You were "chattel real" or personal property of your master. You were not real
estate which is land and buildings, but you were property none the less. You could not destroy the master's property without compensation. You would not think of killing another African unless you were able to pay compensation to the master. We think there was little black on black homicide during slavery.
Of course the slave catchers could kill you if you resisted, but even the slave catcher had to compensate your master for your value. Today you have no value other than intrinsic, but you don't value yourself. You are the master of yourself today. You are the captain of your ship, yet you are reckless and destructive to yourself and kind because of your consciousness or the lack thereof. You destroy your brother and yourself in senseless negative activity, as though you have no value.
Your former master and his slave catchers, today known as police, recognize you yet have value. You are worth $30,000 to $60,000 per inmate per year in jail and prison. A correctional officer was overheard saying, "Come on back, nigger. I just bought me a yacht. Come on back so I can get one for my son!"
--Marvin X
6/29/10
#174 Is Mythology of Pussy for Whites Only?
The white man who read Mythology was indeed an arrogant, upper class capitalist swine. He also told me he would not help me publish How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy because he and his brothers/friends are not trying to recover from white supremacy--they love it and will bomb the world to keep it. As the agent for my archives, he says he's done more for me than anybody else, so don't say he's not helpful. He's also the agent for the archives of Eldridge Cleaver, Ishmael Reed, David Henderson, Joyce Carol Thomas and others. He claims to have helped get the MLK, Jr papers to Stanford. So there appears to be a degree of schizophrenia in this white man, along with his air of white supremacy. The truth is that Mythology of Pussy was written for human beings everywhere, especially men, who suffer the addiction to white supremacy with notions and actions of domination and oppression, especially of women. With respect to black people, I wrote it for them because so many brothers are in jail, and sisters, as a result of partner violence.
Here in the Bay a black man just shot is ex-girl while she worked as a bridge toll taker--shot her in the booth. Then he drove to the parking lot and killed her boyfriend who'd dropped her off to work. Two people are dead and he may qualify for the death penalty--so a total of three people may lose their lives behind pussy. As we know patriarchal notions of domination is a pandemic and I want my brothers, whoever they are, to wake up and smell the pussy of a new day in male/female relations. I just heard a report of Sec. of State Hillary Clinton's trip to Africa. The African woman claim they are treated like shit by their men and pray for a better day, no matter what religion, tribe or ethnic group.
#175 Don't Nobody Care 'Bout Donald Trump and His Ho's
Adult performer/director and alleged Trump paramour Stormy Daniels (left), adult performer/director Asa Akira, and adult performer/director jessica drake (who has accused Trump of sexual assault).
Don't nobody care about Donald Trump and his ho's. Back in my polygamous days, one of my wives called my mother to inform her she too was one of my wives. The wife told me my mother said, "Please, I don't want to hear anything about my son and his wives. Please don't call me anymore!" My wife didn't understand Mom had had enough of me and my many wives, especially when I abused them. She told me I would never have any good luck as long as I abused them, especially the mother's of my children. As per our lascivious President, not only do Americans (including Christians) not care that he is a whore-monger, but care even less that he paid them to be silent. Now what man would not tell his ho' don't make known their affair? Matter of fact, here is a bonus to shut yo mouth!Some cities publish the names of Johns or tricks when they are caught in anti-prostitution stings. I remember when I was caught in a sting and went to jail with several other Johns. One brother called his wife to inform her he was arrested for a traffic violation but his wife retorted, "Nigga, stop lying, I just saw yo ass on the Ten O'clock News."I've long called for the legalization of prostitution, especially after LGBT organized to win their rights. It is only because men are not organized that prostitution is still illegal.If President Trump didn't have so many demons after him, I would suggest he push for the legalization of prostitution, especially to stop abusive sex trafficking and to protect the rights of sex workers.
Now that gays and lesbians can marry and trans people can enter any restroom or locker room, isn't it time for men who desire multiple wives and sex workers to come out of the closet? If men who desire polygamy and sex workers will get organized, they can fulfill their desires just as others have done in this wild crazy world. The reason the LGBT community acquired rights is because they organized to do so. What is wrong with these weak ass men who won't get their nuts out the sand but rather complain about what gays, lesbians and trans people are doing. What does it matter what they do when you can't do what you want to do? I am not concerned about what somebody else is doing, I only care about what I want to do. Now if I can't do what I want to do, we got a real problem up in here! But the solution is political, not to engage in pseudo moral pronouncements that make people hypocritical. As men, we should be ashamed of ourselves for being organized to obtain the rights we desire and need. Why should grown men not be able to be with their sex workers in peace? I'm talking about legal prostitution, not having sex with children and women sex slaves.
Long ago my friend, then Assemblyman Willie L. Brown, pushed through legislation permitting sex between consenting adults, so why are men still sneaking around in the alley like a broke dick dog, facing arrest, cars seizures and other humiliations to be in a mutual agreement with sex workers?
It's time to legalize prostitution and regulate it as it is in the State of Nevada. When I taught English at the University of Nevada, Reno, 1979, no preachers talked against gambling and prostitution. One Black Holy Ghost COGIC preacher received a Cadillac donated by the owner of Mustang Ranch, a venue for legal prostitution.
I'm totally against the trafficking of sex slaves and the spread of disease. As per polygamy, I was not successful with monogamy or polygamy. Mama told me I didn't need a wife, "You need a maid, secretary and mistress, but not a wife!" Obviously, Mama was right, I just can't figure out how she knew so much about her son!
--Marvin X5/14/16
#176 Insanity of sexThe Insanity of Sex
Whoever thought the day would come when sex would be suicidal, that one act of unsafe sex might cause one's death or the death of others, hence homicide. In spite of this reality, millions of people continue practicing this act of insanity; some going about purposely infecting others. What has this world come to? But imagine the situation: you fuck, you die! Only the devil himself would pervert such a holy act as the act of love. I do not doubt for one second that HIV/AIDS is a man-made phenomenon, a diabolical attempt at population control, essentially germ warfare.
On the other hand, generally speaking, no normal, sane person would do the things people do in the name of fulfilling the sexual urge. Do normal people commit incest, rape, and bestiality? Do normal people have sex with their parents, their friend's wife or husband? It is said the majority of the prison population is there as a result of committing crimes motivated by sex -- they robbed and murdered to satisfy a sexual partner, to obtain the wherewithal to gain the love, confidence and security of said partner. Men obsessed with patriarchal notions of women as chattel have committed acts of homicide for centuries, imagining they owned the woman, that they bought and paid for her as a result of laboring to care for her, e.g., "I pay the cost to be the boss." So the man works to pay his pussy bill and as one woman confessed to me regarding her husband, "I know I'm just a ho' in disguise." Apparently marriage is essentially a sexual arrangement, legalized sex and any breaching of said arrangement is cause for a violent reaction, especially in the pre-O.J. Simpson world. The only difference in the post-O.J. world is that the authority has more power in the bedroom than the man. As poet Amiri Baraka noted, "Call God but He won't come, call 911 and the devil will be there in a minute!"
The courts have forced men to attend anger management classes, but the real cause of their anger is usually sexually motivated: "I beat her because she wouldn't give me some pussy -- she gave it to my best friend or to her girlfriend." So while society might be able to bring under control the physical violence, it is yet to address the source of the problem which is in the deep structure of the psyche, planted there by male and female socialization. Women want to attack the male for his antisocial, anti-feminine, misogynistic behavior, but fail to take responsibility for the fact that in the African American community, the female is the main socializer of the male -- yes, tragic circumstances have made the female the reluctant instructor of manhood training. It is a role women reject but are forced into by an oppressive society that economically strangles the adult male, forcing him out of the house, leaving the woman to don the female/male persona, often resulting in the feminization of the young male with his angry, disrespectful attitude toward his mother, which he carries over in his relationship with other females, treating them like trash or purely for sex, caring nothing for them as human beings, designating them bitches and ho's.
I've written elsewhere how the drug crack changed the sexual etiquette in the African American community. In the pre-crack world, a man had to "rap" for his pussy, but with the coming of crack he only had to buy the rock to get sexual favors from the woman -- and crack broke down the most pretentious, most beautiful women, reducing them almost immediately to the whore they always convinced themselves they were not. Crack made husbands sell their precious wives and girlfriends, their children, and even themselves to whomever possessed the dope. Crack literally returned men and women to the sexual auction block where they were often paraded in the crack house and offered to the highest bidder, obviously the man with the package, or more recently, the woman with the package. And we've heard of cases where the mother of the young dope dealer tells the son she will trade sexual favors with him to obtain his drugs, he need not bother with crack ho's. Crack has obviously caused psychosexual pathologies unheard of since slavery. As the preacher says in my docudrama One Day in the Life, "Crack is worse than slavery." I engaged in sex with women in the crack house who refused to send their small children out of the room. I've had husbands offer their wives in exchange for crack. No other drug has been more damaging to our psychosexuality. Only slavery itself equals such debauchery -- and recently it was brought to my attention that the issue of male rape during slavery is hardly ever mentioned in the literature, so we know little about the issue and the residual effect of male rape on the psychosexuality of African American males.
What was the effect of male rape on our DNA as a result of slavery, and getting into the present, what is the effect of homosexuality in prison upon male/female sexuality in the general society? We know that prison life is the origin of young men wearing pants below their waist, which was/is a sign of homosexuality in prison. We see many gay women in male attire with a lipstick lesbian partner, forcing us to realize with so many men in prison, women must wear the male persona, especially since many of them turned gay in prison as well. So much for the normal psychosexual personality. What is normal in the crazy house called America?
The teenage pregnancy rate has dropped, but older men were found to be the culprits in many cases rather than teenage boys. We speculate it was because hormones in young girls are causing them to mature earlier, making them sexual targets for older men. Older men like young girls because they're cheaper to maintain than mature girlfriends and/or mistresses. Hormone filled beef and chicken is causing young girls to mature earlier and thus they are a target for sex-crazed older males. We read recently that prescription drugs, especially the estrogen from birth control pills in the waste water flowing into rivers and streams was causing sex changes in fish and no doubt in humans when it is recycled as drinking water.
Long before my drug addiction, I was addicted to sex and even though I had the Muslim quota of four wives, I was still dissatisfied sexually. Even though I often felt like a gynecologist making his daily round, I was totally unhappy, and no doubt this caused my domestic violence -- yeah, too much pussy -- and love -- because I was loved, just didn't appreciate it and reciprocate. In short, I was sick with love, as it says in the Song of Solomon.
In my maturity, I realize that an intelligent woman is as sexual as a whore, but on a mental level, to the extent that sex is not even necessary, a man can be aroused by the power of her mind -- of course, then she really becomes the object of desire, especially if she is beautiful and intelligent. But finally, there must be discipline in all things, and as Dr. Hare points out, as per the black man, there is "...no amount of religiosity, coke, crack, alcohol or sex sufficient to sedate the social angst and shattered cultural strivings...."
177 Women
Women of today are on the move: intelligent, good jobs, property, stocks, bonds, doing good, not bad, all by themselves. Some have husbands, although fifty percent of American marriages survive, and perhaps not this many in the North American African community.
But they are on the move, even if alone. Some are in search of men, some in search of themselves, for how can they connect with men who do not know themselves?
Women have education, but it is mainly training, not the knowledge of self and the wisdom of life. There are those seeking spirituality, indeed, is not the church full of them?
Alas, there would be no church without them! Yes, those praying mothers and hard working sisters.
They beg the men to attend, but men love football, follow the sports god. So their women advance in their search for things spiritual. They are confident in their Lord, for they know they cannot depend on men. And God has blessed them with success. But where are the men, they are not at school, not at work. Women are on the move. Look at the Secretary of State, Condi, a bad black woman ruling the world, a beautiful black woman from the dirty South. The Black man had her position but he was too wise to submit, after being tricked with his United Nations speech, Colin Powell. But Miz Black Woman knows how to fit it, go along with the show, although in the end, she may be guilty of war crimes.
Sometimes, even the women can get in too deep. But we know she can get in places men cannot so, she got dat sweet thang. She knows how to submit, take orders, while we will question and may, in the end, rebel. We are sometimes a danger to ourselves and others, like Samson, we will bring the whole house down.
The woman will do her job, pretending all is well, just to survive, to feed her children. Is it better to rebel or survive, for there are those who would kill us all without blinking their eyes.
The women are more practical, grounded in reality and spirituality. Again, where are the men, they are not at school and not a work. Are they doing something for self? Who knows, maybe they are pimping--you know it’s hard out here for a pimp! But who’s pimping whom? “The Man” is pimping men, women and children, pimping the world. Who is the negro pimping? Trailer house trash?
Women are on the move. They cannot wait for men. They cannot wait for Charlie to come home. More than likely, when he comes home, the black woman will be gone. For when he was home, he abused her. He didn’t know the woman he had. He didn’t know when he hit her he was hitting God. Now what fool would hit God?
She’s on the move. Go to anger management, Black man, North American African. Get a grip on yourself. Knowledge is not going to stay with ignorance.
Must the black woman educate her man, since she is educated or trained, qualified, spiritual, while he grovels on the animal plane of existence. Maybe she needs to give the brother her wisdom, since he is following her dress tail anyway. Perhaps she should give him a lesson on the reality of God, is she not God’s mother, if you listen to the Christians.
Holy, Mary, Mother of God!
We know we live in the danger zone as Ray Charles told us, so how shall we go about our daily round. We must put on the armor of God. I hate to sound repetitious and redundant, but there is on other way. There’s no shortcut. Shall we all go to prison, shall we all g et shot down in the streets. Then where will our women be, alone with the children? Is this the situation already? Are we in Palestine, Iraq? Is America Katrina, has the big earthquake hit? Are men running through the streets disconnected, disorientated? How do we gain stability in such a chaotic situation? Some type of healing must occur, somebody needs a healing, wonder who?
The women are on the move. She is trying to save her life, save her health, save her soul. Perhaps the men should join with her. Stop trying to sabotage her with down low actions, infecting her with HIV/AIDS, at least be an honest dog and come clean with your filthy behavior. If you want to be a filthy, lying dog, come out the closet and let your woman know so she can save herself and the children. --From Beyond Religion, toward Spirituality, Marvin X, BBP, 2007.
178 The Comforter
Who is this woman
Who comes to me
Out of darkness
Crying in the name of Allah
For me to comfort her
I have seen her before
In my dreams
I have seen her
Walking through snow
Eating fruit
Where hot winds blow
Here you are again
You want my love and mercy
Here
Do not thank me
Thank God
“We feed you for Allah’s pleasure only—
We desire you neither reward nor thanks.” Al Qur’an
Thank Allah
I am His servant
I saw you in the fog
Were you man or woman
You did not know
Now you know
But do not act
Even the moon submits
To the morning sun
Where are you
In the circle of time
Dry your eyes
Sweet woman
Let me rock your soul
With my father’s hands
Come
I will not be here long.
--From Fly to Allah, Marvin X, BBP, 1969
179 Parable of Value
Plato thought further on the matter of value. Value, he mused, can be surmised by considering the relationship between two women. One woman is a classic, another a two dollar hoe. Yet, the classic woman has hoe qualities and the hoe has classic qualities. Thus they both have intrinsic value. The classic woman has holiness and hoeness, and the hoe has holiness and hoeness.
The classic woman has the value of selflessness in her holiness. And the hoe has selflessness in her hoeness, i.e., she is willing to give her love to all willing to pay for her services. The classic woman reflects the hoe's selflessness in sharing her love with many, except she doesn't charge for her services. She may request flowers and wine, and maybe trinkets from her lovers from time to time. The hoe may get these items in addition to her fee, especially if she has a positive attitude that tricks appreciate in a hoe. She will often get a bonus because tricks value attitude.
We see both ladies have intrinsic value as human beings and must be respected as such--they are not to be abused nor disrespected in any way, physically, verbally or emotionally. We can try to make a distinction between the value of the two women, but it is false, especially if one has an emotional connection to both types of women. In either case, as spiritual beings, both emanate a positive vibration, an aura of holiness that is external and internal.
It is possible to learn the value of life from both types of women. The classic woman can teach one to appreciate the finer things of life, to not be a brute, a savage, to be gentle and civil. She will not tolerate disrespect, unless she becomes addicted to the golden handcuffs syndrome wherein she submits to harsh treatment by her well heeled mate to the extent she will reduce her value to that of the two dollar hoe to maintain a certain standard of existence, better known as the world of make believe.
The holly hoe will tell you to not be so rough, be gentle. You're too rough to be a pimp! And so, Plato mused, love the one you’re with, recognize and respect their value. No one is useless, valueless, everyone has a function. Thus, one object of life is to discern the value of each human being, beginning with self. What is one's own value or self worth? How can one recognize and respect value in another without knowing the value of oneself? It is abysmal ignorance of self worth that allows human beings to kill and destroy each other in the hood.
In the interconnectedness of the universe, to kill another is to kill oneself! When you kill your brother you kill yourself. How can you enjoy life when you have taken life. As a special forces soldier said to me, no one who has ever been to war is sane. In Iraq, some US soldiers said they used to stand watch at night until they said they knew they deserved death because of all the killing they'd done, so they stopped doing post at night and went to sleep. They knew in devaluing others, they had devalued themselves.
When you kill, you are a dead man walking yourself. You must eternally watch your back, watch your siblings, your children, your mama and daddy, because you know revenge is coming for your ass, it is only a matter of time.
Further, how can you enjoy eating while your brother is starving. Why will you not feed your brother? Why will you not give him a dollar for a hamburger when you have a hunid in your pocket? Can you not imagine a day when your brother may need to feed you? Thus, your brother has value--every dog has his day, to use a cliche.
During slavery the North American African had value as chattel property. You were "chattel real" or personal property of your master. You were not real
estate which is land and buildings, but you were property none the less. You could not destroy the master's property without compensation. You would not think of killing another African unless you were able to pay compensation to the master. We think there was little black on black homicide during slavery.
Of course the slave catchers could kill you if you resisted, but even the slave catcher had to compensate your master for your value. Today you have no value other than intrinsic, but you don't value yourself. You are the master of yourself today. You are the captain of your ship, yet you are reckless and destructive to yourself and kind because of your consciousness or the lack thereof. You destroy your brother and yourself in senseless negative activity, as though you have no value.
Your former master and his slave catchers, today known as police, recognize you yet have value. You are worth $30,000 to $60,000 per inmate per year in jail and prison. A correctional officer was overheard saying, "Come on back, nigger. I just bought me a yacht. Come on back so I can get one for my son!"
6/29/10
180 The Lonely Hearts Club
Scene 1: A Black Bar
Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Club
Friday nite nigguhs
Froze to the bone
Super fine women
Sittin alone
Disco boggie
Makes them sweat
Smoked filled room—got a cigarette?
Why
Is my life
A bottle of rum
A cancer stick
Spearmint gum
So many women
Sittin alone
Where are the men
Who used to be
Holding hands
Beneath a tree?
Scene II: A White Bar
Topless/bottomless/brainless babes
Shake their butts
Plastic breasts
Black band plays
White women suggests
Final trick for double o-soul
Will your own women die
Of
Lone
Li
Ness?
--From Selected Poems, Marvin X, BBP, 1979.
181 Political & Sexual Anorexia and Mama at Twilight: Julia Hare and Ayodele Nzingha
This is a comparative review of Ayodele's play Death by Love and Dr. Julia Hare's The Sexual and Political Anorexia of the Black Woman. There is something similar in the psycholinguistics, since the lead woman in Ayo's drama is dying of AIDS and the women in Dr. Hare's book are love starved and politically apathetic, thus, they are dying as well. So essentially, our concern is the theme of death, death by innocence, by lack of faith. The woman in Ayo’s drama contracted AIDS probably by an unfaithful husband who engaged in homosexual acts while in prison. The woman had undying faith her God would save her. Julia Hare’s women have lost the desire for sex or are love starved creatures despite
their economic and academic accomplishments, simply because their men are such scoundrels caught in the psychosexuality of patriarchal socialization. Thus, they cannot be honest with their women because she wants to hear lies, even
Ayodele’s woman who has contracted AIDS doesn’t press her man to confess he has had homosexual encounters in prison. Even as AIDS is in its last stages with her, she allows her man to maintain his dignity in her overall persona of denial so well practiced by her gender group—dying yet denying! Julia’s women, in much the same mode, suffer because of psycholinguistic trauma which prevents them from achieving sexual satisfaction and the ultimate political satisfaction which Michelle Obama claims she is achieving with her man. Michelle declares she knows who she is and what she is and is clear on her role as a woman, wife, mother and lover, and she is not going the route of the anorexic black woman. Ayo’s woman suffered a physical malady, but Julia’s women suffer a psychological and physical disease originating in the heart, flowing outward and upward to the brain with the resulting trauma and ultimate death from starvation, i.e., the loss of desire. But I would like to suggest that the psycholinguistic tragedy is that much if not most of this trauma is brought about by the actions of the black woman’s mouth. In short, she has forgotten how to speak the words of love to her man. For example, as a result of having multiple women and/or wives, in my life, I have learned that there are women who can speak to a man and make his dick limp, and there are women who can speak to a man and make his dick hard and stay hard. The latter women are secure within themselves and as a result are in many cases ahead of the man simply because they know what they are doing and do
it well. While the former are women who in many cases are highly educated or trained in the white man’s way but don’t have a clue how to talk with a black man to arouse him and maintain his penis on hard. And yet, black women come to me declaring the black man hates them. No, he does not hate them, he hates their mouth, thus the high rate of domestic violence, largely brought about by the
woman’s mouth, certainly not her physicality, except of late as she is known to cut and shoot him in retaliation. But hear me clearly, I am not suggesting women become Silent Night. I am suggesting something more subtle, more feminine and seductive, a way out of the morass of anorexia and pseudo faith. Be honest yet cleaver. Let me put my personal business in the street on this point. One of my very dear lady friends with whom I was visiting to do some writing came into the room where I was typing on the computer and asked if I minded if she masturbated while I typed. In total shock at how she came at me, I said no, and then immediately departed from the computer to satisfy her—after all, is that not what she wanted? But she came at me in such a feminine manner that it totally disarmed me, leaving me helplessly at her command. But beyond her mouth, the black woman, along with her man, must detox from white supremacy: get rid of that ugly, phony Korean hair, turn off the white TV shows brainwashing her and her children, stay out of the white man's shopping centers buying goods she doesn't need (conspicuous consumption), give up the white Jesus (Sarapas),encourage herself and her man to become economically independent.
Teach do for self to her children. Study black and spiritual consciousness to clean the white garbage from her mind, with her man and children doing the same. And lastly, discover what her divine mission is and follow her bliss. Women without men should prepare for a man. Women who are addicted to rubber and plastic men should seek psychological help. Pretending your woman friend is your
man only takes you deeper into the morass of white supremacy psychopathology. Ayo in her Death by Love drama and Julia in her book The Sexual and Political Anorexia of the Black Woman, have given us two documents urgently needed by men
and women today. I urge you to check them out. Peace and love. --Marvin X
182 Fahizah on Bitter Bitch
Muhajir, I know you love the term bitter bitch. I hate the term, but I know it’s a reality. I try real hard to avoid being around them. Bitterness is vile and viral.
I love being around Black women who have learned how to love and live with their men for life. Mostly Southern women. They know how to keep their men. Know how to value themselves and their men. Also know when to shut up. White women are not the only women who know how to act. Black women and Black men have to learn to practice restraint with each other like they show to the white folks. And then they won't need their fake, self-loathing relationships with "the other."
Keep doing your work against white supremacy!! It's crucial!
--Fahizah
183 A Post feminist/post Crack Dialogue on Bitch
Rashidah
Rashidah Sabreen Defines Bitch
Every woman should be a bitch because a bitch is only a woman who has come into her own power. You are not a bitch until you take a stand for yourself. Once you take a stand and refuse to take any and all bullshit tossed your way, you are a bitch. A bitch is a woman of power.
What I meant is this: There are those women among us who do not experience being called a bitch until we do the unexpected in order to change a static situation, like changing the locks, putting offending person's belongings out in the elements, refusing to continue to be misused and abused. As soon as a female takes a stand for her Self that is when any and all offending parties can't get "Bitch" out of their no good mouths fast enough! A female dog, a bitch, does not allow every male to get at her...she will turn her hind quarters to a wall and fight when certain males do not come correct. So when BS comes at us, we have to guard our treasures and fight like a bitch against any and all abuse/misuse regardless of the source, male, female, children, friends, whoever dare be so bold!--Rashidah Sabreen
Deedrah Smallwood on Bitch
I'm not into the word "Bitch." However, the way it was presented to me by Rashidah, I truly can relate.. We all know the word exists, but I never looked at the word "Bitch" from her perspective. Uncle Marvin, please don't get me wrong: I will NEVER allow another person to call me a BITCH. If by chance they merely whispered it under their breath, I would refer to this dialog on being a BITCH! Lol!
Plato Negro Replies to Deedrah
Well, Deedrah, the party done got started up in here. Rashidah may need more sisters to support her definition, otherwise she is going to issue a disclaimer. "You know Marvin X is crazy--he put those words in my mouth. My friends know I don't talk like that."
Rasheedah Sabreen
Marvin X is crazy--he put words in my mouth. My friends know I don't talk like that." LOL!
Adaoma Defines Bitch
A Bitch is a dog of the female gender. Nothing human. What others may call you or may call Rashidah is not who you are! They don't define you! You don't define me. I define me. So, when the Black inhabitants of Soweto were being called Kafirs, the Tutsi were being called cockroaches and sassy, uppity working class Black women like me are being called "Bitch" and "Akata" by "Africans" (like Val Ojo) worshipped by "Niggas" on the net like Ali and Erving....they were not defining us. So, no...women are not Bitches...to answer your question.
Tarika Lewis Replies
...Wow Marvin this dialog sets the standards at an all time low servin up, no down this heap of trash...I'm counting by blessings everyday that I grew up in a household where upon this word was never used...my father never called my mother out of her name, ...my brother never called a woman out of her name...Now that I think about it even Huey P. Newton and Eldridge Cleaver and Bobby Seale whom i was around a lot...never referred to any woman using that term at least not in our presence....leave the slave mentality and crude language on the plantation...just because certain words are liberally used doesn't make it right or appropriate...it translates into how our children view themselves and how society views us, where dollars are spent and in general who lives and who dies...and who gets locked up and who gets educated... send me some e-mails on how a Million Mo Black Men can march on Oakland and build ten schools and 1,000 homes for struggling single mothers...what a waste of time and beautiful black mind...peace
MX replies to Tarika
The culture police on the right and left would have the people in lock-jaw to make them bow down at the god of political correctness. Don't say black, negro, African, nigguh, bitch, motherfucker. Shall we speak the "kings english" and who and what was the king? A murderer, pervert, rapist, motherfucker, fatherfucker, childfucker. And yet some of the people who want to silence speech are guilty of the actual crimes of being a bitch, a nigguh, a mother, father and child fucker.The left is dead now because, among other things, it has lost its sense of humor--as Kathleen Cleaver said, only the truth can be funny.
The people are realizing we will get rid of the white man and then be subjects of fascists on the left who would institute their form of slavery, left wing slavery. Either there is freedom of speech or there isn't. Either we have the right to determine the definitions of any and all words or we don't. And who has the right to define words that should or should not be spoken?
How can any writer be told he can't say certain words, no matter what? Will you not play certain sounds even if you were told the sound is obscene? Would Miles, Coltrane, Monk, listen to someone telling them what notes they can or cannot play? If we are prisoners of the english language, we can at the very least redefine words, give them our meanings, to hell with Webster and the ship he rode in on.
This psycholinguistic crisis is part of the reason the American educational system has one million dropouts. The children obviously reject English in favor of their mother tongue, and yes, their mother tongue contains a variety of words unacceptable in polite culture. And what part of their lives is polite? But how long shall we persist in functioning with archaic definitions of words?
Our children view themselves because of adult behavior, more than language. Although, I agree if ones language is limited to bitch, ho and motherfucker, there is a problem. Words work in context. We should address the white man as motherfucker in lieu of slapping him (Charles Barron) or killing him (Nat Turner).
Not long ago, I heard rappers discussing their tour of Italy. Upon arriving at the airport, the first thing they heard Italian youth discussing was how many "Bitches" they had, obviously influenced by hip hop culture or shall we say specifically gangsta rap--yeah, ganstas who when caught are ignorant of a preliminary hearing.
But let us deconstruct the controversial term BITCH. Besides Nigger or Nigguh, no other term has caused more controversy of late, no other term has created a crisis situation among North American Africans, prompting the Million Man Marchers to vow never to use the term again. They claimed it demeaned the black woman, the mother of civilization.
My personal view is that crack culture demeaned the black man and women to the extent that the term "bitch" has taken on new meaning and now refers to both male and female, and a discussion of the term cannot be limited to the feminine gender. Youth in the dope culture will quickly address a tweeking, fumbing OG as "punk bitch." For example, to a male they will say, "Punk-bitch, you better take this dope and get the fuck up outta here wit da quickness."
This sentence is most indicative of the psycholinguistic crisis because it reveals the utter destruction of filial piety (respect or duty of children to elders) in the North American African community. When adults began buying crack from children, children saw the utter weakness in the older generation and lost total respect which was expressed in verbal denunciations such as "punk bitch."
In my recovery drama ONE DAY IN THE LIFE, a youth confronts the late Huey Newton and myself with the following words as we sat in a West Oakland crack house: "Yeah, you nigguhs is dope fiends, you ain't no revolutionaries, so don't say shit to me bout no program. How you gon buy dope from me and my podnas--I mean, I'm in recovery now but when I was a dealer, you couldn't come to me and tell me you some revolutionaries--you some punk-bitch nigguhs. When you get your shit together we'll have some respect fa ya, but until then, don't talk to us bout no revolution, O.G., cause if I saw ya comin on my turf, I'd make a movie out that ass, podna. Don't be no walkin contradiction ma nigguhs."
My associate, J.B. Saunders, asked me to include a word-picture of male "bitch behavior" as expressed in the crack ritual. An example of this comes from the observation of monkeys when the female is ready to present herself to the male. She will go to a corner of a cage or by a tree and expose her rear end to the male, letting him know he can come and get her or know her as the Bible says.
In the crack house, the male bitch will expose his posterior in his ritual of crawling on all fours around the room, supposedly looking for crack, but mainly picking up lint and other particles, even chips of dry wall. The ultimate expression of male bitch behavior is the so-called straight guy who, in desperation, i,e., when the tweeking ritual is exhausted, will present his posterior to the dope dealer--accompanied with the words "I'll do anything for another hit," and perform homosexual acts to obtain more crack, but in his psycho-linguistic crisis he adamantly denies he is gay, all the while swallowing the dope dealer's penis and cum.
The worse bitch in the world is the bitch in denial! And even that bitch will--in a moment of scandalous activity declare, "I know I'm a bitch." I have a friend for whom calling her a bitch is a fight, but I have heard her call her children bitches in a moment of passion or anger.
My views on the matter are prejudiced by the fact that I grew up in a house with six sisters who referred to themselves as bitches--and I must say, many times acted like bitches, if we mean behavior unbecoming a woman--such behavior being acceptable only during PMS or pregnancy! Among males is it demeaning to say, "That's a fine bitch!" But again, after the Crack era, males are now bitches more than ever.
We know words only have the power we give them, i.e., we define words. Bourgeoisie culture cannot define mass culture or the culture of the grass roots. A rich man cannot tell a poor man what to say. If a rich man comes to the poor man's community, he better talk like a poor man or he may be a dead man!
184 THE WHITE WOMAN
I keep reminding you brothers that the white woman is the daughter, wife, sister and mother of white supremacy. And since she is the first teacher, we see the results of her teaching in the children she has raised to gain world dominion. How hard is that to fathom?
I have never called myself a feminist, a category created by white women who intend to rule along side white men without having to compete or contend with qualified men of other races.
--Fahizah
Before we proceed to a discussion of the Other White People, let us attempt to deconstruct the great symbol of White Supremacy, the white woman, or as Dr. Nathan Hare calls her, “the white man in drag.” Nevertheless, she is the highest symbol of his culture, after all, through her womb she makes it possible for white supremacy to continue, thus she was taboo to Africans, touching a string of her pretty blond hair or even looking at her directly was cause for torture and death to untold thousands of Africans, Emmet Till’s death being the most brazen modern example of what used to happen when one disrespected the queen of western civilization.
After millennia as the queen mother of civilization, as a result of slavery when she became primarily a breeder and worker, the black woman only regained regal status for a brief moment during the 1960s when she was again referred to as queen, though only in a few cases truly treated as such, but even today when she is making great strides to achieve queenly status, often on her own merit, yes, without the help and support of her king, she has been reduced to bitch and ho by the gangster genre of Hip Hop culture that takes its queue from pimp culture which originates from the culture of white supremacy.
But the white woman appears to have lost much of her queenly status, for the lowest Negro or African can have a white woman today without penalty of death. Ironically, it is often said the black woman and the white man were the only free persons in America, for she and the white man could be sexual mates and she could breed him untold children without recrimination from white society. On the other hand, the black man mating with a white woman was again, possible cause for death. When segregation laws ended during the 60s, the white woman rushed to embrace the arms of the black man, even ignoring the call for black power with the addendum for whites to return to their communities to educate their brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, to disavow white supremacy (something they never did to any meaningful degree and which is partly the reason we are at the present precipice).
We are told black power was initiated by black women to get liberal white women out of the southern civil rights movement since they were known to be sleeping with the brothers. The white woman ignored the call of black women to claim as many black men as she could, producing a generation of interracial children who were and are often confused (tragic mulatto syndrome) about their allegiance to either ethnic group. Ultimately, many white woman discarded the white man and black man for another woman and today enjoys lesbian culture, since apparently both men failed her. Those white women bold enough to partner with the black man do so with great abhorrence from black women who feel she is stealing their biological partner and natural mate, and this is a most serious matter since eligible black men are few in number, especially to mate with highly educated black women who find themselves successful in every area except a mate from their ethnic group.
In this war with the white woman over the black man’s sperm, the black woman, in desperation and denial, tries to mimic the white woman as much as possible, donning blond hair and continuing the tradition of bleaching cream throughout Pan Africa, from Jamaica to South Africa. The large size African women are now starving themselves to look like Beyonce.
The endgame is perhaps toward the nonracial society where all will declare “what does color have to do with it,” but color has a lot to do with the Pan African family remaining strong and resisting the forces of white supremacy, for Elijah Muhammad taught us the white woman is the last weapon in the white man’s arsenal against the Black Nation. Yet a strange thing is happening on the way to the black nation, for the black woman is desperately seeking mates outside her group (of course she and the white man always had a thing in secret, from the founding fathers on down) since her black man is so infatuated with the white supremacy ideal, if he is interested in women at all (homosexuality is taking its toll in the black community, diminishing the stock of eligible men, along with prison, drugs, homicide/suicide and economics).
In the process, there is a weird psycho drama in progress, for as the black woman seeks to achieve the white ideal, the white woman seeks to blacken herself to obtain that mighty black man of her dreams, the man of supposed if not real sexual power and strength, even if he lacks the political and economic power of her father and brothers. She is intelligent enough to know white supremacy will soon be in the dustbin of history, thus those white women who are not lesbian seek to graft themselves onto the black nation by sexual cohabitation, and also by discarding prejudice and white supremacy thinking, even going so far as to declare themselves members of the African family and noting for all concerned that they will never have anything to do with a white man ever again, but more importantly, the white woman is attempting to stand on the side of truth and justice, as we saw with Senator Barbara Boxer in the Condi Rice confirmation hearings, while Condi dug herself deeper into the grave of white supremacy, becoming its representative around the world as Secretary of State. And so it is: the white woman is becoming blacker and the black woman is becoming whiter. Of course on the spiritual level color certainly does not matter, only the heart. The real problem is without question the class nature of human relationships. Are you with the oppressor class or the oppressed, are you part of the problem or part of the solution? Take a fearless inventory of yourself. Search for lingering feelings of hatred, envy, jealousy and other diseases of the heart.
185 Obama's Last Ghost
Elijah told us the white woman is the white man's last weapon against the black man. We thought once Obama overcame Hillery, he would be home free. But up popped the devil woman number two. Of course she lacks Hillery's political chicanery but she's still white, so never forget this. And white America went into a tizzy over her until the fall of Wall Street, then she became second page news because America cares more about its money than its mama, and no matter the fall began on Clinton's watch, the blame game goes to Bush and the Republicans, thus Obama has another chance now that devil woman number two is backstage. She may pop up again before the race is over, but for now all eyes are on the economy.
As former San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown noted in the Sunday Chronicle, we all should have known something was wrong when a man who couldn't qualify for a $13,000 car loan was able to qualify for a $300,000 house loan. But let's be honest, Obama and McCain have friends and contributors on Wall Street, after all, it is Wall Street who calls the shots in American elections, not the men and women on Main Street, who do not exercise one man one vote anyway, but the matter is decided in the Electoral College, although international finance predetermines the victor, the rest is media drama, unless the Trickster or Legba appears at the crossroads to block, as happened in 2000 and 2004, at which time Shango and Ogun will need to make their appearance. But they will need to act with caution since the US Army has a unit on hand for any domestic disturbance.
We know Blacks will be highly upset if it is perceived Obama is tricked out of his victory. We must be wise enough to survive so we can fight another day. Or as Bruce Lee said, "Learn to fight by not fighting." No matter what, America is on the down, and even if he wins, it is doubtful Obama can save her since she is suffering a multitude of sins, not just economically, but her military is overstretched, her educational system is in total disarray, and she is morally bankrupt with no respect in the global village. While the winds of revolution blow throughout the Americas, the United States is yet the bastion of reaction
and white supremacy backwardness. Instead of providing leadership in the new era, she is lagging in political foresight, like a retarded child who cannot tell the time of day.
As we go into the stretch with this Obama drama, we hope Michelle will put her foot in his behind and push him over the finish line, for his victory will only be a step in our overdue attempt to reach the mountain top.
186 Babylon Brooklyn
Film by Marc Levin
Music score by Roots
Starring Tarik “Black Thought” Trotter; Karen Goberman
This film and music score by Roots was classic conscious hip hop, steeped in Rasta theology, a pleasant reprieve from the current genre of gansta rap movies, although Babylon Brooklyn continues the renunciation of the African American maternal ideal. Tariq Trotter as Sol may have a future in acting, but is on solid ground as performer and lyricist. Karen Goberman as Sara played the typical white girl bold enough to enter the black world; a hip hop Desdemona hooking up with Othello in a simple Simon combined version of Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing and Jungle Fever. It had potential to be a great movie, but left us wanting and waiting to exhale.
What an awesome subject: the exploration of two mythologies or two versions of the same mythology, Judaism. Can you imagine what mythologists Joseph Campbell or John G. Jackson would have done with the script—they would have gone into the roots of the matter—the film did star the hip hop group Roots, but what we got is a Miller Lite discussion of Ashkenazi Judaism and Rasta Judaism. Of course for the general public, this discussion might have been sufficient, since one can’t go too deep with them, I’ve been told—can’t get too heavy because you will lose them.
See Ashkenazi Brooklyn and Rasta (as in Caribbean) Brooklyn, climaxing with the annual Caribbean festival. The camera cuts between the two cultures of Crown Heights and recreates a historical event in the racial/religious warfare between these so-called Hebrews, black and white. We view Jewish rituals, discussions of Torah, quotes from the Song of Solomon, then Rastas get a turn at expounding their belief that Emperor Haile Selassie is the Conquering Lion of Judah, the direct descendent of Solomon and Queen of Sheba. Of course one is forced to at least consider who might be the authentic representative of this Hebrew culture, but the film never goes there, only presents the case and lets the jury decide. DNA evidence suggest the Rastas might have some validity in their beliefs, since the Jews of Ethiopia have been found with a certain Jewish gene, tracing them back to the ancients. The Ashkenazi, especially when racial tensions explode, remind one of present day Israeli discussions and actions regarding the Palestinians. The Crown Heights Jews said there must be brotherly love, there must be borders between them and the blacks. The “one love” Rastas, neo-integrationists will have none of this border talk.
Sol falls in love with Babylon woman Sara, and tensions explode in both communities, although the Rastas are known for their deep affection and cohabitation with white women. We are told a true Rasta would never do such, but the Bob Marley, hip hop Rastas have revised the original teachings of the Maroons from strict Black Nationalism to integration, to the ire of the Rasta woman, if on one else – and ironically, she was totally absent from this film, making it a false discussion, a hip hop fantasy, because we know how the Rasta sista and all sistas feel about brothers and white women. More than a few Rasta women have cried to me about attending hip hop shows to find the Dread brothers with their locks entwined in the white woman’s hands, a Samson and Delilah fatal attraction. The sistas bemoaned that they would stop attending such events since it was clear the brothers rejected their maternal ideal.
A few years ago we did a play of mine at Sista’s Place in Brooklyn. My daughter did the casting and we needed a crack ho’. The best one was a whit actress, but when we informed the sistas, they told us, “Not at Sista’s Place…” So in excluding the Rasta woman from the script, much of the fire was extinguished from the discussion, although the brothers called Sara a “bleach woman” and quite a number of bitches.
The movie continues the ever-elusive discussion of race and religion in America and the world. Does color make a human being? Does religion? Bin Laden has forced us to think deeply about how far religious mythology can take us into psychopathology. Babylon Brooklyn was fine for a hip hop audience or the “pseudo-conscious” as one of my daughters calls them. But after 9/11 we really need a deeper exploration of all mythologies active in the world today, and most especially messianic religiosity. We need to deconstruct why there is a need to believe in a savior to the extent that people will commit mass murder and State-sponsored terrorism. Stalin’ communism, Hitler’s Nazism, America’s record of destabilizing governments and assassinating democratically elected leaders is legend, along with Israel’s current State terrorism, all based on a religious or mythological need to dominate, oppress and annihilate others. And of course the “others” will react in a similar fashion, creating counter mythologies and committing acts of terror such as 9/11.
187 Woman Breast KO's America
I'm not a titty man, but Janet Jackson's right breast did look good. And I was happy she showed her "ass" or rather tit on prime time America. Yes, it was indeed a slap in the face by the black woman who nursed America for four centuries. Yes, her breasts nursed the slave master's children and even the master sucked them in his four hundred year rape of the black woman and black man--yes, black men were raped as well, even children. Let us not forget the founding father's came from the filth of Europe, the jails were emptied to populate America, so the slave masters come from kidnappers, rapists, sexual degenerates, murderers, thieves, prostitutes and pimps. They continued their debauchery upon the kidnapped Africans, and the terrorism went on for centuries, yes, the black women served them milk from her breasts, sexual favors from her womb, breasts and asshole, as per the master's desire. And again, the black man was sexually exploited as well by these bloodsucking rapists who present themselves in our midst as civilized people, although we know they are worse than any jungle savage, even as they walk the streets in their suits and ties, lying, stealing and murdering throughout the earth.
So Janet's tit in America's face is exactly what the doctor ordered, maybe it will be an antitoxin to save you from the poison of racism and white supremacy, although it is doubtful because you are like Saddam Hussein, you will have to be hunted to the ends of the earth and captured in some rat hole, hiding like the coward you are without your guns from the peace loving peoples of the world.
Thanks, Janet, for putting your tit in America's face at prime time, thus taking pressure off America's crucifixion of your brother, Michael, a victim of white supremacy and terrorism as well.
domestic disturbance.
We know Blacks will be highly upset if it is perceived Obama is tricked out of his victory. We must be wise enough to survive so we can fight another day. Or as Bruce Lee said, "Learn to fight by not fighting." No matter what, America is on the down, and even if he wins, it is doubtful Obama can save her since she is suffering a multitude of sins, not just economically, but her military is overstretched, her educational system is in total disarray, and she is morally bankrupt with no respect in the global village. While the winds of revolution blow throughout the Americas, the United States is yet the bastion of reaction
and white supremacy backwardness. Instead of providing leadership in the new era, she is lagging in political foresight, like a retarded child who cannot tell the time of day.
As we go into the stretch with this Obama drama, we hope Michelle will put her foot in his behind and push him over the finish line, for his victory will only be a step in our overdue attempt to reach the mountain top.
188 For the Men
For the men
Who father children
With time and money
For the men
Who abandon children
In ignorance and addictions
For the men on the street
And the men in suites
For the men in villas
And the men in alleys
For the men with wives
And the men alone
For the men who honor wives
And the men who abuse them
For the men who rap
And the men who are silent
For the men who win
And the men who sin
For the men who love God
And the men who hate
For the men who are brothers
And the men who are beasts
For the men with holy ghost
And the men without hope
For the men of revolution
And the men of reaction
O, men, listen to the wise
Good comes to good
And the bad receive their due
There is no escape
Fro the men of this world
Or men of the next.
189 MEN
And of the men, it is said they think they are self-sufficient. They think they are beyond God. Therefore, I must humble them, so they know Me and remember Me. Oh, the men, they are self confident and know they are on the right path while they are wrong. Surely, if they are not arrogant, they shall find the right path.
They are full of knowledge, full of pride because they are men and full of themselves, but I must humble them so they know who is Divine and who is of Divine. Let them consider my messages, let them consider My power and see if they are equal. They are only equal to Me when they flow in the flow. They cannot be equal to Me when they swim contrary to my messages.
The men can only lead with wisdom. No one, not the women nor the children shall follow men steeped in ignorance. So they must be of superior knowledge, of Supreme Wisdom, then the women and children shall follow them and go with them to success. Supreme Wisdom is knowledge of the Divine within themselves and the universe, for Divinity is the life-force in all things.
The men must practice discipline at all times and not make fools of themselves: no one will follow a fool. Let the fool fall into his own puke for he is beyond rescue. He sees the cliff but does not halt. Who can be his advisor, who can be his guide?
The nation cannot survive nor thrive when the men are asleep. Let them awaken to the trumpet, to the final call. We cannot tarry in Jerusalem, it is time to build the house, to lay the corner stone. Consider the house, consider the day, surely time is of the essence. There is no time to play.
The people ask, where are the men? Do they not hear the trumpet? What will happen to the nation if they do not heed the call?
Their sons search is strange places for their fathers. Their sons walk with sagging pants no father would allow. They have earrings in both ears no father would allow. The sons imitate women because no father is in the house. Their voices are the sounds of women because no father is in the house.
The sons stand in the doorway waiting for father to come home. Is father at the party up on the hill? Surely the party must come to an end. Will father leave with the prostitute or will he find his way home.
Maybe father is searching for God in the night. Surely he will come home soon, for the house is in need of repair. There is a leak in the roof. Father knows how to repair the roof, if only he will come home. He can teach his son how to repair the house, if only he can find his way home. Yes, leave the party, leave the ho, and go home. For in the end, will the partygoers come home with him? Will the ho’s be with him? No, he shall find himself alone in his iniquity.
One must do the right things to be successful. There is no success in error, only for a moment. And then the fire whose fuel is men and stones, says Al Qur’an.
190 CALLING ALL BLACK MEN
COME OUT THE CLOSET!
Mr. Black Xerox
Clorox
Mason
Christian
Muslim
Democrat
Pan-African-
Wino
Dope smoker-
Coke sniffer
Down low brother
Calling all black men
Mr. Black wife beater-
rapist
robber
murderer
Worker
father
husband
lover
COME OUT THE CLOSET
Mr. Black back to Africa
Mr. Black I-love-America
CALLING
ALL BLACK MEN --circa1981From Somethin’ Proper, Marvin X, 1998.
Note: Marvin X was chief planner and organizer of the Black Men’s Conference, Oakland Auditorium, under the direction of founder, the Honorable John Douimbia (may he rest in peace), the man who mentored Marvin X, teaching him manhood training, one on one, in the African mystical tradition..
With this poem the black men’s movement came alive from coast to coast, with black men meeting nationwide, culminating with the Million Men’s March, fifteen years after the call. But other than a feel good session, the gathering was a failure, one need only look at the condition of black men today, especially the condition of their women who cannot find suitable mates and/or husbands among the pool of black men. The jails and prisons are full, the colleges full of black women earning high degrees but unable to find a mate among their brothers, thus the women are in prison too, a prison of the mind, heart, body and soul, as noted by Dr. Wade Nobles.
“Marvin X fought battles he didn’t need to fight, just to help black people.”
--The Honorable John Douimbia, founder of the Black Men’s Conference, Oakland
191 Abstract for a Council of Elders
Based on the teachings of Brother John Douimbia, Founder: Black Men’s Conference, Oakland, CA, 1980 (RIP)
1. What is the function of a Council of Elders?
The Council of Elders should be the final authority in the African community. It should be the final authority in moral, domestic, personal, political, criminal, and economic matters. It should provide counseling and guidance to troubled men and women. For example, perhaps OJ Simpson could have gone to the Elders Council to receive guidance on his domestic problems. Brothers in the hood should be able to take their problems before the Council for conflict resolution, rather than resorting to violence and destroying whole families over a twenty-dollar dope debt. Certainly, the Council would pay the debt to prevent a homicide. Incest and child abuse cases would be matter or the Council. Political prisoners and inmates would be released to the custody of the Council.
2. How should a Council of Elders be composed?
If no other way, it must be drafted by respectable elders in the community. They must be men and women of wisdom and honor: They need not be holy Joes, but cannot be of outright flagrant unholiness and negativity. They should be of revolutionary consciousness as opposed to conservative – I say they out to have radical thoughts that can guide us into the millennium, not keep us in the past. The last thing we need is a group of tired, reactionary, boot-licking Negroes in authority.
3. How does the Council receive power?
The Council receives power from the people who agree to submit issues before the Council for resolution. There should be a community consensus that the Council is the point of authority to resolve issues that need not involve the “so-called elected government agencies which have proven incapable of resolving human rights abuses, economic injustice, drug abuse, domestic violence, child abuse, spiritual decadence and myopia (especially with respect to men – the churches are mostly full of women).
4. How would the Council administer its decisions?
Persons might receive a citation to appear before the Council. They might peacefully submit to arrest and detention in a community center before their case is adjudicated. The decisions of the Council would be enforced by the Guardians of the Council, men and women trained to enforce the dictates of the Council.
5. Should the Council be a religious body?
No. Religion should not dominate the Council. The Council exists for the community as a whole, not for any religion or group of religions. Extremely religious persons should be barred from the Council. Persons concerned with religious matters should remain in their churches, mosques, temples – yes, just keep praying.
6. What should be the relationship of the Council to the established government?
It should be a cooperative but independent relationship. If there are problems we cannot handle, then we should turn matters over to the criminal justice system. What we want is the first option to control our community, rather than have outside forces intervene. We feel a Council of Elders can eradicate the sale of drugs in our community without involving the criminal justice system. We will do this simply by uniting the males and making their presence known. We will also do this by presenting alternative economic opportunities to the youth, such as entrepreneurship. We know absolutely that if the youth can sell drugs, they can sell anything. Why not watches, shoes, clothing, art, CDs, videos, food, etc.? Rather than pay the criminal justice system $50,000 per year per inmate, we would give the brothers and sisters a voucher to purchase $50,000 in legal goods to sell. The goods would be housed in a secured community warehouse and issued as per need. If youth persist in the selling of drugs, and other violations, they would be banished from the community, if necessary, for life. Yeah, black devil, go live with the white man.
7. A Council of Women should be a subsidiary of the Elders Council.
There are issues that only women should settle. They should have a Council for this purpose. Should there also be a men’s Council? Perhaps. As per women, we know of cases at present of elderly women being terrified in their homes by dope fiend daughters. The elders are being verbally and physically abused – I have seen this – why should our elders live 70 and 80 years to be terrified by their children, especially when the elders are caring for the grandchildren due to the drug use of the parents. Should not the Women’s Council rescue our elders? No offense, but I don’t think the “National Council of Negro Women” is capable of interceding in matters of this kind – unless it could be revolutionized.
8. A Council of Youth should be a subsidiary of the Elders Council.
It would deal with youth matters. We had the case of a youth who was prevented from entering a certain department at San Francisco State University – she couldn’t get assistance from the Black Student Union, the Black Studies Department or any other help. A Council of Youth would be in a position to represent the student in a matter of this nature, which the student believed was racial discrimination. Youth might have simple adolescent problems that peer counseling could resolve – or problems with parents (who might be drug abusers or sexual abusers – such issues might be immediately taken to the Elders Council).
The above are my initial views for establishing Council of Elders community government based on the ideas of the Honorable John Douimbia to create a new order in our communities coast to coast.
--From In the Crazy House Called America, Marvin X, BBP, 2002
192 YOUTH
Youth are the vanguard of any people’s struggle, for only youth have the energy and fearlessness to engage the enemy or opposition, and once they grasp the program and ideology of struggle, they are invincible.
Sometimes the problem with the youth generation is the historical discontinuity Harold Cruse wrote about in Crisis of the Negro Intellectual, the gap in knowledge and discipline the old generation doesn’t pass on to the new, causing the new to reinvent the wheel, thus losing precious time making similar mistakes, especially when the old guard doesn’t intervene with direction and wisdom from previous struggle, or the old guard might want to dominate the youth with war stories of battles long ago, rather than guiding youth on strategies and tactics for the war at hand.
Castro has told us the battle of today shall not be fought with guns but with consciousness, thus this is a spiritual war, a war of intellect, a war of information, a war of knowledge versus ignorance. The Bible tells you the people were destroyed for lack of knowledge.
Today, youth are indeed being destroyed for lack of knowledge, they have not heard Castro nor the Bible. Thus, like their Master Teacher America, they believe carnal weapons can solve their problems in the hood and that the phallus is the essential tool in their relationship with females. Perhaps this is a vestige from their elders who saw the phallus as an extension of the gun to achieve revolutionary power.
Imagine the consequence of young women in the North American African community being highly educated with advance degrees while great numbers of young males remain illiterate, glorifying ignorance and criminality. They may strike a cool pose, but when asked serious questions, they are stuck on stupid.
But it is not simply a crisis in education or revolution, but a crisis of the heart and soul because when the youth are caught in a quiet moment, such as in jail or prison, they want to know and are willing to listen, even question as some have done with me in their letters from prison. I was astounded they had the nerve to criticize my writing, letting me know what they agreed with and what they did not. The nerve of such youth! But I was proud they had such nerve.
In reality, we know our youth possess genius, but downsize their intelligence due to peer pressure with a resulting mental retardation from lack of brain exercise. For example, I produced a book fair in 2004 at my theatre in San Francisco, mainly a celebration of the Black Arts Movement, but I invited several authors who were ex-pimps, including the legendary Fillmore Slim, Gangsta Brown, and Rosebud Bitter Dose (see film The American Pimp). These ex-pimps gave me the most trouble of any authors because of what I label their mental retardation, and even they wished they had known they could write books because they would have avoided their career of managing women, resulting in dehumanizing women and prison terms for socalled White Slavery or the Black Man Act!
As I say, youth have the genius but must seize the opportunity to shape their futures as they wish and the future of their people. Our most valuable asset is our youth, yet a million are in prison serving time for mostly petty crimes to the benefit of the prison-corporate complex. For the most part, except for their mothers and girlfriends, little attention is given to them by other males, how ironic when these are their sons and of late, their daughters. Ironically, I have evidence of fathers who are in grief over their criminal sons.
And I remember how my father cried when my brother and I were in juvenile hall together. So there are fathers who care, fathers who suffer great emotional pain, but their numbers do not compare with the mothers, even though all parents reach a point of no return, when they throw up their hands and say enough. My poet friend Sherley A. Williams (now deceased, peace be upon her) came to the point where she vowed to never again suffer the humiliation of visiting her son in prison.
But there is hope because youth approach me literally begging for knowledge. And of course I am duty bound to them: what is the duty of the civilized man? Answer: to teach the uncivilized. If he fails to perform his duty, he shall suffer a severe chastisement by Allah.
Every time I visit the barber shop (see the film, Get yo mind right) I am forced to lecture youth while getting my hair cut. And after my lecture, I must pay for my haircut and tip.
Recently I was approached by two young lesbians begging for knowledge and asking why the elders do not give up the knowledge. These are good signs, hopeful signs, if elders will step to the front of the line. Many communities are having intergenerational discussions. We had an excellent discussion at our Black Radical book fair in 2004 entitled from Black Art to Hip Hop (available on DVD from Academy of Da Corner).
Throughout the nation, elder councils are being established. We must salute, applaud and support those young black men who are in college, for they are a precious few. At Howard University women outnumber them 14 to 1. But we must caution them for alleged sexual improprieties as we understand they have a high rate of HIV/AIDS as a result of homosexuality, especially at black colleges and universities such as Howard.
Youth must learn to practice discipline in all things, especially since we know a tragic flaw of youth is the illusion of invincibility. As a community, we must unite to halt the brain-drain of our youth into the black or white hole of corporate America, after which they are of little value to our economic, political, social or spiritual progress. Youth must understand the connection between sovereignty, land, ancestors, elders, themselves, and our future.
Yes, they are trying to catch you riding dirty, but put on the amour of God, and truly be invincible, able to walk though the valley of the shadow of death, walk on water in the midst of your enemies, travel in the light of your divinity. There is no need for youth to fear, grieve, moan, for in war soldiers fall, so honor them, do not retreat, but continue on until victory. But victory comes to the righteous, not to those who dishonor ancestors, elders, themselves, and the yet unborn. Let radical spirituality challenge your being. You are equal to the challenge for you are of God, from God and in God--there is no division in Divinity.
Nothing is to be worshipped but God; no attachments but to God, not to women, men, children, money, guns. Your essence is not your nationality, Africanity or humanity, rather your essence is your Divinity. Yes, you are a spiritual being in human form.
193 Abstract for a Young Men’s Workshop
The condition of young black men in America is at a critical juncture. A great majority of male youth are involved in the criminal justice system – for every one entering college, four enter prison. Although it might be difficult to provide statistical evidence, the dope man is the number one employer of our youth; one need only visit urban and rural cities coast to coast. But all is not without hope: there are young black men striving to stay free of the criminal justice system, free of drugs, alcohol, marijuana, and to be sexually responsible.
In most human societies, young males are provided manhood training to prepare for adulthood, with their duties to themselves, their families and communities clearly defined. Not so with African males in America – slavery destroyed this training institute, unless one wants to call gangs manhood training. For the most part, each generation of African males (and females) has had to discover its purpose and mission, minus historic continuity, thus forced to reinvent the wheel, usually wheel of misfortune, with the resulting crisis: criminality, teenage fathers, drug abuse, absence of spirituality and political consciousness, evidenced by the high rate of street violence and lack of positive conflict resolution. The North American African community is an armed camp, with brothers ready to take each other out at the drop of a hat, which reveals the lack of moral and political consciousness, and more importantly, revolutionary ideology. The Honorable John Douimbia, founder of the Black Men’s Conference in Oakland, said recently that we lack the ability to utilize the power we have, being fearful of taking authority in our community, fearful of sharing power with each other.
The purpose of a young men’s workshop is to conduct a discussion on power, taking authority, respect for elders, sexual responsibility, domestic violence, street violence, entrepreneurship, etc.
We also want to explore the creation of a Council of Elders that would be the ultimate authority in our community. Males (as well as females) would submit all issues of a serious nature before the council – yes, we’re talking here of an alternative government, a people’s democratic government. The Council of Elders would adjudicate criminal matters, moral matters and provide the wisdom of elders in all matters relating to community survival and process. A council of women and youth would be a subsidiary of the Council of Elders.
194 When the Mate Leaves, Don’t Worry, Be Happy!
People think they own each other, that they own each other’s sexual organs. So much partner violence is related to the illusion that one person owns the other person’s penis or vagina. Girlfriends and boyfriends feel this way, husbands and wives feel this way. Much of the violence and murder is related to this issue of ownership. We may call it a problem of domination, power, or we can call it what most people do: love.
People believe that another person is their chattel or personal property. When one owns another it is called chattel slavery, or personal property slavery. People are so insecure in general that they are highly paranoid about their partner. We North American Africans have no social security. We are insecure about the government--especially after Katrina. We are insecure about our jobs; we are insecure about ourselves due to spiritual immaturity based on biblical mythology and personal underdevelopment, and most of all, we are insecure about our mate.
If the mate leaves, we should be happy. Why would you want to keep someone who wants to go? If she wants to be with Joe, let her go--you don’t own her. If she wants, she has the human right to give Joe some pussy. I know you don’t like it but get over it. Don’t kill her and Joe behind the funk. The world is full of infinite possibilities. God will provide you with the perfect mate. Don’t be insecure, O, ye of little faith. Let go and let God.
Again, don’t get it twisted, that’s her pussy--you own your penis, not her pussy. Don’t get angry about it. Have some discipline. Don’t let things became a criminal matter. Now you got the white man involved, 911. Now you got to go to anger management, court mandated. All behind the illusion that your own her pussy, or that she owns your dick.
Don’t nobody own nobody--to hell with papers. Your life and death are all for God. No attachments but to God. Are you attached to God or to your woman’s vagina? Which one do you truly worship? We say we worship God but many of us worship pussy and dicks. Our entire life is about nothing but that. All day long we think about that, not about God.
The music we listen to throughout the day is about pussy and dick. Sun Ra called it P and D music. This puts us on the animal plane and we are ready to kill for the pussy and dick gods. Consumed by flesh, we care nothing about the spiritual qualities of our mate. Your mate could be God in person bout you would never know it--too focused on the physical. Have you ever considered the mind of your mate, their spiritual consciousness? If you just want some pussy, get a prostitute, yeah, get a ho. At least the prostitute will inform you from the jump that you don’t own her. You need to know that, you big trick! You a trick with your mate, you ready to kill cause you pay the pussy bill. “I pay the cost to be the boss.” Bud, fella, dude, dog, bro, you can’t buy nobody. Slavery is over, haven’t you heard? Have you heard of Abraham Lincoln? Let go and let God. God has something divine awaiting you. Don’t get hung up on the physical. Phavia Kujichalia’s poem says, “If you think I’m just a physical thing, you won’t know the spiritual power I bring….”
--From Beyond Religion, toward Spirituality, Marvin X, BBP, 2007.
195 Parable of the Bitch Led Nigguhs
They call them bitch led nigguhs, hiding behind mama's dress tail, call them masculine feminists, who won't say a word not approved by their bitch. They don't have a thought unless bitch approved. Bitch led nigguhs. Kiss my motherfuckin ass, bitch led nigguhs. Masculine feminists. You wear the panties. Your woman wears the drawers. Fucks you in the ass with a dildo. And you like it.
Collaborators with white supremacy. Get a job? Fuck the white and his slave job! All you want is trinkets from Wal Mart. Make yo man slave to take you to Mal Mart on the weekend to perpetuate your world of make believe.
196 Parable of Toxic Love
When I mention to a woman how toxic/male female relations can be, including sexual relations, she replied, “And having no relationships can be toxic!” Alas, my childhood friend, poet Sherley A. Williams (RIP) used to say, “A bad relationship is better than no relationship.”
We imagine being deprived of dick can lead to the “bitter bitch syndrome,” or what Dr. Julia Hare calls sexual anorexia, starving for love, emotional and sexual. And it is the same for men who are abstinent for a long time. They appear crazy, until they get a shot of cock, then they behave somewhat normal, unless their psychosexual issues were surface, while more severe mental health issues lurked in the deep structure of their minds.
Clinical psychologist, Dr. Nathan hare says no amount of money, drugs, religiosity or sex will “satisfy the social angst and shattered cultural strivings.” Men often try to medicate themselves with sex, but to no avail. We cannot hide in the pussy, we cannot cling to mama’s panties and dress tail. We cannot fuck away our oppression for after the nut, then what? After flaunting his penis and exhausting his cum, love turns to anger for some strange reason, and then the man (911) with the big dick/stick/gun is at the door. Dr. Hare tells us:
“The more the black man attempts to medicate his anxiety and to mask his depression and self- doubts with pretense and hostility, the more he finds himself in trouble with the persons he must love and be loved than with the alien representatives of the society that would control and castrate his manhood.” So the rigors and pain of life can only be addressed by social action or the process of revolution.
In my own addictive personality, no amount of sex quenched the thirst for freedom in my soul. In my madness and oppression, I thought another woman, another pussy, another hole, would cool me out. It never happened and never shall, for me or any other brother who diverts from his revolutionary mission to avenge his ancestors and fulfill his own destiny as a man.
Imagine the amount of misplaced aggression black men subject women to as a result of their fear of the white man, especially when the woman serves the black man loyally and royally as if he is King Tut. My mother-in-law said she never saw a man treated as royally as her daughter treated me, yet I subjected her to the most wretched emotional, verbal and physical abuse imaginable.
There is a vital creative energy that transcends sexuality and we must unmask that vital force driving us from revolution or madness, to resistance or submission and cowardice. One would think with all the money and women Tiger Woods has, he would be a happy man. Yet we know he is not, for there is a greater need his soul has not satisfied. Meanwhile, he shall remain the shell of a man until he confronts the demons of his soul. President Obama faces the same task. He may be President, but he knows he’s a nigguh as well. Did not he say he feared getting shot coming home to the White House some late night?
197 How to Find and Keep A BMW (Black Man Working)
By Julia Hare
Black Think Tank Publisher, 1995
151 pages
12/23/03
Reviewing Julie Hare is like reviewing my aunt's peach cobbler. It's so good I can't say anything bad and wouldn't say nothing bad if my life depended on it. But the title is enough to contemplate for one hundred years, How To Find A BMW. Of course, I have a question with the title, working for self, working for who? If he got a slave, then I don't want to discuss how to find a slave, or a Negro with a slave because they say in the game you end up where you start out: if you got a job with the white man, you start with nothing and most likely end with nothing, unless you are fortunate enough to jump ship and land in the water of Elijah's do for self. Or Marcus Garvey's do for self. Take your pick, but you can't talk to me about a BMW with the white man. To hell with him and his job. As far as I'm concerned, if you have a job you are a collaborator, black man or black woman because first of all, you are a victim of wage slavery, then you subject your man to the same insanity and want him to love you and appreciate you because you are blind and he is blind as well, so you both jump in the ditch together. Love have mercy.
Marvin ,would you get to Julia's book? Since you insist, I will go there with you, chapter by chapter.
Julia opens with an overview of the problem: the black woman's lack of a mate, working or non-working, but the ideal mate will have a JOB. Ideally, she tells us, he will have a job working for self in the tradition of Elijah and Marcus, doing for self rather than a wage slave, but Julia doesn't suggest turning down a nigguh working for The Man-alas, if the white and is the man, who is the black man?
She details other forces after the black man, the most important commodity of the western world: the white woman, white man, bisexual and gay brothers, all snatching a piece of the action, Mr. Captain Black Man. Julie then asks how do you keep him if you just happen to win the prize, how do you not run him away with ever pressing demands for commitment, following the Christian agenda or Muslim, Yoruba agenda, whether monogamy, polygamy, or polyandry. How does sister meet her challenge without dropping the pot of stew on her fine dress. If she's a strong sister, will that spook the brother? How does she deal a mate not having processed all the issues from childhood, puberty and young manhood in racist America? And how can she help him when she is without a clean bill of health, physical and most especially mental?
Why can't she snatch a man her equal when miss ann can cop the best of the black men with a pull of her goldie locks, a glance of her blue eyes, although sistuh may have graduated from Yale, Harvard and Stanford while the white woman ain't got a GED.
Without going farther in our critique, we must applaud Julia and Nathan Hare for staying together over the decades, so we know Julie is an authority on the subject of black male/female relations, although longevity is not the only criteria in such relations. We know couples who have been together decades in a living hell. On the surface they are model couples, but in reality they should have been committed to the mental hospital years ago. But let us return to Dr. Julia's prescription for netting our black shining prince or king, or god, depending on your ideology, philosophy, religion or form and degree of insanity, for what about the suggestion we should forestall mating and marriage until liberation, after which we will have a better mental equilibrium, since liberation is the only way we can solve the many conundrums stifling male/female unity and a host of other problems too numerous to catalogue. As in the Greek myth, maybe our women should withhold sex and the men too until we've done the right thing by our ancestors, liberated ourselves from the addiction of white supremacy, so we can indeed mate with a semblance of sanity.
Enough of my ranting, back to Dr. Julia's treatise. She discusses the Successful Black Woman Syndrome, describing a war between black men and women. Alas, some black men feel we are in a two front war, with the white man and the black woman, an external battle and a battle in the bed, although what warrior would sleep with his enemy, and imagine the enemy is the mother of your children!
"And so, instead of confronting the white man, the black woman reaches out to share what the black man has, while the black man squabbles with the black woman over what she gets. Rather than confront the white man, or the white woman for that matter, the black man directs his resentment toward the black woman. The black woman should confront the powers-that-be for more of the jobs that white women get, and the black man should be fighting the white man, demanding more jobs for the race instead of fighting with the black woman over token positions."
I totally disagree with demanding more jobs for the race. It is time out demanding anything from the white man. Take whatever we feel we deserve or close the sucker down, as in general strike. But no more begging for jobs-after 400 years why are we still begging the slave master for a job he doesn't have for his own kind? Are we seriously mentally retarded? Elijah told us the white man's last weapon would be his woman, and so it is, yes, she is block woman for the black woman and black man. She is suddenly the pseudo minority used to delay the day of justice and equality for black man and woman. Connect the dots and prepare to do for self or suffer the consequences of more black men and women going to prison because they see crime as the only way out of our morass with capitalist America, now outsourcing to China, India, Indonesia, Taiwan, Philippines or anywhere to avoid paying high wages to white or black Americans-capitalism does not discriminate, contrary to general opinion. Do you really think these dirty, capitalist swine care more about white workers than black workers? They only care about cheap labor, cheap labor, cheap labor-of course prison labor is even cheaper than out sourcing, so Tommy Hilfiger is having a field day with prison labor, along with a host of other manufacturers too numerous to list-and Tommy is such a racist he announced he didn't want blacks buying his garb although it was fine for prisoners to make it.
And while on the point of prisons, Julia informs us:
"…We are now facing the teeming multitudes of imprisoned white collar black males (most often connected to drug abuse in some manner). The so-called drug war (and its passion for prison-(building fed by mandatory sentencing policies) is linking up with "three-strikes-you're out" legislation to take a heavy toll on the marriageable black male supply, including many with college educations. Like our men, black women don't have a mindset independent of white control, don't do our own thinking, and don't really confront the system to demand hospitals instead of prisons for brothers and sisters addicted.
And now we enter the "Brown-bag chapter." When W.E.B. DuBois talked about the problem of the 20th Century was the color line, I don't think he was talking about the internal color line, even though he and Garvey had clashed on this issue. But Julia goes there in "Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall…."
"You'd think that by now-here we are going into the 21st century, and we hate to admit it-but this thing about light skin and the whole color thing is still rampant in the black community."
Many years ago a light skinned Garveyite asked me why Negroes loved to follow light skinned Negroes like Farrakhan. And another Negro noted how superblack lightskinned Negroes were, Malcolm X, for example. So Julia has stepped into high cotton with this chapter. In my life I've had women blue black and white as snow, yet black in every since of the word. I've had blue-black women who were super smart and yellow women just as smart, so why is this old trip still going on? The only sensible answer is the addiction of white supremacy. Imagine the origin of the Jack and Jill organization as Julia relates, a black organization based on a white myth. And then I wondered why my brown skinned daughter joined the Yale Deltas.
"Although it was quite some time ago, when the first black 'Greek' sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha, was founded at Howard University early in this century, the so-called 'paper bag test' was used to blackball darker sisters. This situation soon provoked the found of another sorority, Delta Sigma Theta, for a darker variety of sisters in opposition to AKA's early high yellow prerequisites."
But we might as well cut to the chase-light skinned ain't the thing now, you got to be Asian, forget the skin game, it's eyes now, or maybe it's Asian submission, after all, the black woman was submissive at one time, the yellow woman arrogant, but after a stay in Japan, my son informed me the Asian woman is taught to say three things: yes, thank you and I'm sorry, something a black woman would die before saying. So as we enter the fourth year of the new century, welcome the new woman on the block, Miss Asia, thanks to BET and MTV and the capitalist desire for the Asian market. Both the black woman and the white woman are dinosaurs. Of course this has dire implications for black male/female relations. Multiculturalism is the new term for failed integration, Julia informed us at the Kings and Queens of Black Consciousness concert. After a stay in Seattle, I was never so happy to arrive in segregated New York City to see black on black couples again in great numbers.
Truth is, the majority of black women and men shall find each other, albeit in a myriad conditions and suffer the love of each other to the end of time, although elite professional males found that after the fall of Jim Crow, "they no longer needed to settle for the light skinned black woman, the imitation white woman, but could go straight to the real thing."
Indeed, why should a black man want a fake white woman with fake blond weave, fake blue eyes and a fake white mind? But a little bird is telling me things have reversed: the white woman is the black woman and the black woman is the white woman. The more the black woman desires and attires herself in whiteness, the more the white woman desires and attires herself in blackness. While the black woman grapples with the conundrum in her midst, in her bed, in her womb, in her heart, the white woman knows the black man is god, superman, the real power source of the universe, while the black woman, in disgust and lack of faith after suffering too long the ordeal by fire, seeks the pseudo powers of the white man because of the momentary appearance of things, the political, economic and military realities-but universally speaking, the black man is soon to have his day in the sun while the white man's days are numbered-the white man knows the future world powers will be in Asia and Africa, despite all his attempts to recolonize Africa and gain an economic foothold in the vast markets of Asia. Shall we remind him the spirit of the people is greater than all his technology and military might.
Consciousness is the mighty weapon of the people, and in the final analysis this entire discussion if not about color, superficial kindergarten notions, but about deep structure matters of consciousness in the hearts of all humanity willing to conjure the energy to rise above the superficial racial myths that have us leaping headlong into the precipice of madness.
Today the black man may be powerless, but the white woman knows even in his powerlessness, he is the natural man, the man of truth, while she knows the white man is a liar and murderer, without shame or mercy. She has and will continue to enjoy the benefits of white privilege, but if she has been with the black man, she will never go back to a white man, as any white woman will readily admit. She may be, as Nathan Hare says, the white man in drag, but women seek power, always, and in the final analysis, Black Power shall be around when white power has gone into the dustbin of history.
As Julia said at the outset, everybody is after a piece of the black man, especially the white woman who is in a bio-social struggle for the cream of the crop, the stone the builders rejected that shall become the corner stone. Think about it, the black man's rhythms and beats control the universe, the entire world is dancing to his music or bastardized and diluted forms of his music. If the black man doesn't periodically energize the English language as he has done with rap, the English language would be the weak bastard tongue it is minus the African linguistic infusion. And with rap he has revolutionized the structure, syntax of spoken word, poetry and the lyrical expression of Japanese, Spanish, French, Arabic and other world languages. The rap genre is the universal expression of youth culture, emanating from the black man's creativity and originality.
The only way the black woman can get and keep her man is by firstly recognizing who he is as others do, then giving him the human right of free thought, free speech and freedom of action to configure his life according to his dictates, not some Euro-centric design. Of course the black woman can have a voice in the black man's agenda, but he must exercise leadership, otherwise he turns into a weak, passive punk following some feminine agenda. Would you turn a rooster into a hen? Would you turn a bull into a cow? Marvin, have you ever heard it takes two to tango? Yes, so dance together and make movement into a new universe, a new world where we are not afraid of our own kind, do not hate ourselves, our mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers. Dance until we synthesize the sometimes diametrical agendas of black males and females that have us at each other's throats rather than working together in understanding, tenderness and love. Mama wasn't always right and Dad wasn't always wrong, no matter what he did or didn't do. Search hard for the truth both taught by their lives and see if we can do better. Total condemnation and hatred of their values and habits which are determining much of our behavior in male/female relations must be processed into a mentally healthy diet of human interaction.
Dr. Julia Hare mentions that mulatto women, more than males, are calling for a new racial category of mixed blacks in the US, similar to Brazil and South African coloreds.
Well, the progeny of white/black sex should study the example of Haiti regarding how Desselines handled Mulatto treachery during the revolution. They can be either part of the problem or part of the solution. We know the story of the tragic mulatto, but their indecision and identity confusion must be processed in the fire of revolution, otherwise we know they tend to side with their white fathers and/or mothers, against the black parent and his people. Chancellor Williams told us about their behavior way back in Egypt when the whites invaded, the mulattoes were a fifth column in the destruction of African civilization.
198 Fahizah Alim on Marvin X’s DNA
You are wild and wonderful....and I think you've lost your mind....which is a good thing...because without the monkey mind, one can find one's life purpose.
Another thing that can be said in your behalf is that you had good DNA to transmit to your children. And you selected good mothers to nurture your seed and rear your children while you were out and about struggling with your Nafs al-Ammara Bissu' (demons).
Allah is the Best Knower. If you hadn't descended into "Hell" you wouldn't be able to understand the depth of the despair and desperation that encompasses so many of our Black Men, which also allows you to reach out to them and speak FOR them.
Most often, it is the one who has experienced the most intense of life's experiences who is best able to produce great art that touches the heart. Can you imagine Aretha Franklin being able to sing " I Never Loved a Man" without having her heart crushed?
To quote one appropriate old gospel hymn: "Must Jesus bear the Cross alone and all the World go Free? No, there's a cross for Everyone and there's a Cross for me."
--FAHIZAH
199 Family, Part II
Despite what those who know me think they know about me, even those closest to me such as children and wives, women, girlfriends, male friends, comrades, associates, I am a lover of people and life. What is equally true is that I am ambivalent about all those I love, so I suspect people dwell on my ambivalence rather than my love or does my ambivalence predominate my love. If truth be told, Ihave this love/hate relationship with life in general and close relations in particular. It is a kind of paranoia, not wanting people too close on me, after all, don’t I disclose almost everything about me in the public domain? Can I not keep a few things to myself, for who needs to know everything about me accept me?
Appearing on stage with the necessary persona that is not the real me but the stage me is my idea of being social. Once the performance is through I am ready for my shell where I can take off the mask and just be me, including the great possibility of getting drunk or whatever, but it does not usually include being what normal people call being social. Essentially, I am a recluse, a hermit who deals with civilization with great reluctance, and clearly civilization deals with me with trepidation.
In spite of my antisocial leanings, my destructive family interaction, I have come to believe family is the greatest thing God created, the nuclear and extended family. Because I am entangled in imagination, I have found little time for family, even though I truly believe it is the best thing going. After years of neglect, I am only now getting caught up with my writing and look forward to spending more time with family.
Long ago I discovered marriage was not only a contract between two people but a coming together of two families. Of course in ancient times this coming together of families was of greater significance than today, for it had economic and political consequences, but today it means almost nothing except one has some in-lawone may like or hate. Recently we heard about the man in Louisiana who went into a church to kill his inlaws, then took his wife and children home and killed his wife--at lease he spared the children.
But even with the problems and personalities, family and extended family can be a beautiful thing. Itis sad fifty per cent of marriages end in divorce. Many times it is because the couple does not call upon the family to intervene, when, after all, it is a matter of concern for them all. Wouldn’t it be a powerful thing if and when couples had problems their families came together to reconcile matters, rather than leaving the couple isolated with no understanding of how to resolve the problem, allowing it to eventually become a criminal justice matter.
In hindsight, I wish I had made use of my extended families before my several marriages failed. I especially liked my mother-in-laws. In a couple of cases, I got along better with them than I did with their daughters.
But let truth be told: Mama said I did not need a wife. She said I needed a maid, secretary and mistress. I don’t know how Mama knew this, but she was right. Only now in my senior years am I realizing how right Mama had been, and wish I had taken her advice, although I am humbled by the good women I connected with and the beautiful children they gave me, and I appreciate the ex-women with whom I have remained friends with throughout the years. They are precious to me.
I blame my failed marriages on my artistic disposition, and maybe this is what Mama recognized. Marriage works for some artists, but not for others. Not that artists are different from normal people, although they imagine so, and perhaps they are since normal people don’t live in their imagination or isolation. Normal people are not arrogant and rude as some artists are known to be.
But marriage, I’ve concluded, is a spiritual thing: made in heaven to be lived on earth. My wives were angelic, I was the devil, mostly dwelling on the animal plane of lust and lechery, refusing to function on the spiritual plane, even though I was blessed with the most spiritual women, humble, submissive, intelligent, beautiful, physically and spiritually.
Was the problem my addictive personality or perhaps some degree of manic depression, who knows, I’m just thankful to be alive and thankful I didn’t abuse them to the point of death. I ask their forgiveness for turning heaven into hell. I was an ungrateful wretch, selfish, greedy and block headed.
How can a woman stay with a man in such a state of mind, especially when he refuses to seek counseling because he thinks he’s smarter than the doctor. And of course drugs didn’t help my delusional state of mind, just added fuel to the fire,
Eventually, my wives had to go, pack their bags, grab their babies, if they had any by me, and go. It has taken years for me to get a healing and conclude my frustration was partly artistic, not being creative enough, or not realizing my potential, perhaps because I was trying to be something I was not: husband, father, lover, or something along those lines.
If I wasn’t a husband, for sure, I was an even worse father, although I was blessed with wives who disciplined my children so that when they came around I never had to whip them or even raise my voice.
Aside from my writings, I consider my children a great blessing to me and the world. They are a joy to be around, although they sometimes act a little strange, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, what would you expect, Dr. Strangelove?
We know the world is made of families. Families rule the world. You would be surprised to discover the family relations of the ruling class worldwide. Family is very important to the world rulers, economically and politically: they know how to keep their money in the family and keep power in the family. God forbid, but wait til Bush III runs for president, or even Mrs. Clinton for that matter, as if dirty Bill wasn’t enough.
Often the family can be painful to deal with. There are many personalities and often one must tip through the tulips in dealing with them. Murder is in the family. Greed. Jealousy and envy are in the family. Mental illness and physical illnesses are in the family. And finally death is a family affair.
Youth do not understand when they kill another youth in the hood, they not only killed a youth, but they killed a family, a family that must now suffer terrible grief, a family that may never get a healing, for what is closure--I hate the word.
We must treasure our families because they are indeed Divine, sacred, holy, and we should not take them for granted. Time is precious and they shall not be around always. When we can, we should reach out to our families, reconcile with them, no matter how painful, no matter how unscrupulous some family members may have been. Sly Stone told you it’s a family affair. And the O’Jays told us about Family Reunion.
There is also shame in the family. Some members think they are better than others. Certain members may feel they are above or better than the others because the others were not materially successful, or because they are dysfunctional, suffer addictions and criminality. Yet these uppity members attend church with worshippers just as wretched, just as criminal and wicked as their family.
And then there are problems with color: some are dark, some light, and this makes for tension because of the superiority complex. If you light you all right, if brown stick around, but if you black get back. One of my light skinned cousins married a jet black brother with straight or good hair, but told her son and daughter don’t bring nobody black to her house. Clearly there is mental illness here, the residue of slavery and domestic colonialism.
We need to appreciate the families God gave us and realize blood is indeed thicker than water, although a time may come when we must take the stance of Jesus when his family came to get him. He replied he was with his family, his disciples, too hell with blood family.
During the 60s, we revolutionaries thought our comrades were more important than family but as we reached spiritual maturity, we came to appreciate our family as well as our comrades. After all, the first task should be to revolutionize one’s family.
Because many youth of today lack family, especially a mother and father, sometimes due to drugs made readily available by the government to destabilize the community, just as the British flooded China with opium, youth join gangs for love, respect, brotherhood and sisterhood. They are so desperate for family love and attention that they commit ritual murder as gang initiation. The gangs offer wisdom traditionally reserved for family elders, who, for one reason or another, refuse to hug a thug, a thug who may be their children, niece or nephew, or neighborhood child they’ve known from birth.
If Latino immigration has done nothing else, it has made Blacks more aware of how Latinos express and utilize family unity to come up. Yes, it’s a family affair. Families rule the world.
200 Getting Out
She begged him
For a walk together
To the store
Never mind church
To a movie
Any movie
To the park
Anytime
Soon
Just get out
Something different
Sex is fine
But not all the time
he was Tantric
Sex was his way to heaven
But not all the time
She told him
Why not jog
Come jog with me
She cried
Come take me
For a boat ride.
201 MARRIAGE
I thought you knew marriage was between a virgin man and virgin woman, the two having crucified their animal selves and suffered the joy and pain of resurrection, then ascension in physical form, though the form did not matter because it was about the spiritual. In the spiritual, there is no need of talk, of touch, of kissing , for the intercourse never ends, it is yes, eternal in the here and now, not some afterlife in the good bye and bye. I thought you knew. The virgin gives birth to the spiritual child, unseen, yet it is everywhere, every child who receives the spirit from the virgin man and virgin woman, and the spirit is the word of truth. I thought you knew.
If you do not know, you need to come out of the church for it is a hindrance causing a blindness of your spiritual eye, for the church is beyond the God in you, the Jesus in you, the Muhammad in you, the Buddha in you. And if it is beyond, you must come out of her my people and be not partakers of her sins.Her sins are dwelling on the animal plane of incessant talk when silence is the order of the spirit. I thought you knew. Why do you look at the ocean in silence, the glory of the sun in silence, the moon and stars in silence?
Because there is nothing to say but wonder. And so, when spirits meet, let there be silence. I thought you knew.
The spirit knows the mind of spirit, so what is there to say, to do, except be, and in being, so it is, even now, this hour--spirit lives and never dies. It is not about books, buildings, rituals, myths, except the myth of you, of your life in the myth of spirit. And how can you be apart from spirit when consciousness has come to you, has raised you from the dead?
I thought you knew.
So look into your lover’s eyes and see God and Goddess, and rejoice, for this is all there is beyond the physical that makes us sad, full of grief, greedy, claiming ownership leading to violence and murder. But where is the pain in owning spirit, and who can claim such ownership apart from the Divine itself, of which all spirits depart and return without loss of power, without grief, but full of joy.
There is no selfishness in Divinity, the divinity of you and me. There is no desire, there is no need, no want. In spirit comes satisfaction. We never get satisfaction in the physical, we are forever in want, need, desire. Transcend want, need and desire to discover the Divine within and without that is full and complete, like the ocean it is perpetual motion of abundance and joy. Emptiness lies in the physical where desire destroys all.
So enjoy the crucifixion, the resurrection and ascension. It is painful yet necessary for your elevation and emancipation from physical and mental slavery. It is here for you right now and forever. Continue to live on the animal plane of desire and you shall remain asleep and dead to the glory of life, to the glory of God and the Goddess within you, thus blind to the Divine without.
Beyond desire, there is no pain. Cease desire and the universe is yours without asking. All things that belong to you come to you and that which is not you departs from you. There is no need for talk and endless chatter, for what is already is and what isn’t shall not be.
Let there be no attachments but to God, for who owns God who owns everything? Being a part of the ownership there is nothing to own. What is there to desire within the Divine of which you are a part, when you know? Simply be and it is, you are complete and full, flowing in the flow of the eternal stream down to the river out into the ocean. I thought you knew.
202 RECONCILIATION
As part of the recovery process, we try to make amends to those we harmed during our addiction. We attempt to reconcile with them as I did with my ex-wife when she heard my poem on domestic violence (See Partner Violence). If people would try to reconcile more often, there would be less rage and violence in the hood, in families.
We stay angry with each other but feel no anger toward the white man who is pimping our drawers off. There is little movement in the Movement because comrades have issues going back thirty years, so there is no unity, functional unity anyway. But at least white men who hate each other’s guts will come together to exploit and oppress you, yet you can’t come together for five minutes because of some past action that wasn’t about two dollars. You are more racist with each other than with your natural enemy.
We need to grow up, get a healing. We must learn alternative ways of resolving issues in our family and in the hood, conflict resolution and reconciliation. This must happen on the national level as well. But we have some die hard racists in this land who feel no need to reconcile even though they benefited from the surplus capital accumulated from four centuries of slavery. They refuse any apology, don’t mention reparations.
But the day shall come when they shall be more than willing to reconcile. The French just established a day of forgiveness for colonialism, even though they want to teach the positive aspects of colonialism. Why don’t the Germans teach the Jews the positive aspects of Nazism? At least the French are making an effort to reconcile with their former colonial subjects. Even Australia has established a Day of Sorrow for genocide of the aboriginals, yet America is too arrogant and proud to tell the descendants of former slaves she’s sorry.
For sure, racial animosities shall persist because in her heart is hatred, jealously and envy of the Africans in her midst. One day she shall be more than glad to offer reparations, including the entire United States treasury to reconcile with North American Africans. Surely what goes around come around. The North American Africans may refuse her reparations and let the judgment of God fall upon her for her iniquities.
The hard heartedness of people shall be broken. Even George Bush has been broken by the failure of his Iraq quagmire. He has admitted it was a mistake. But the end is not yet,
for many more Americans shall die because of his lies, greed, arrogance and white supremacy.
He represents the American psyche that refuses to do the right thing until it is brought low. But the Great Spirit has a way of bringing those on high down low, until you watch in wonder at how low they can go.
It is better to reconcile with those one has harmed before it is too late. Reconciliation is good for the heart and the soul. Shall we wait until we are on our death bed to utter the simple words, “I’m sorry.”
203 Malcolm and Betty, a love song
Malcolm and Betty,
A Love Song
Malcolm's alleged letter to the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, pleading for help with his domestic relations with Better Shabazz, may be a fabrication, but if it is authentic, it reveals, once and for all, the deep love and affection Malcolm and all followers of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad had for the man who was a father to us all, a master teacher in the oriental tradition, someone we came before in the most humble manner, the precious lamb of God.
Malcolm's letter reveals the honor and respect paid to HEM from the highest official to the lowest believer or laborer--so it is important for outsiders seeking an understanding of the Nation of Islam to study carefully the overall tone of this missal. It is especially important that young North American Africans consider the respect Malcolm showed his leader and teacher. Such respect must be paid to elders deserving of such. Our community will not progress until such humility is evident in the inter-generational crisis. Let not the present young generation be so ignorant as we were in the 60s that we called for the killing of any adult over thirty (Black Panther Bobby Seale). Huey P. Newton expressed great respect for the HEM, even seeing the Panthers as subservient to the NOI. Huey said to me, "A Party can be part of a nation."
As per Malcolm's letter to Elijah regarding his wife, Betty, clearly he was pleading for help in a desperate situation, a marriage on the rocks. It appears that the psychological damage he inflicted on himself during his hustling, pimping and prison life, combined with his new found responsibilities as a leader and organizer of the NOI, provided him little time and even desire to satisfy his young wife, Betty, although they didn't produce six children from doing nothing!
Life has a way of catching up with us when we least expect it--nothing in the universe is forgotten, perhaps only forgiven. And time is the great monster we see on the horizon, once we belatedly discover our life's mission.
For a revolutionary, a wife and family are often merely cosmetic, for such a revolutionary personality is often totally absorbed and obsessed with his mission. It becomes impossible to ever relax and take a chill pill, especially when we don't consider this is a four century struggle for freedom here in the wilderness of North America.
We don't know how to pace ourselves, thus we try to get to the finish line in a day, when it ain't gonna happen that way, as Dr. John Henrik Clarke reminded us, this is not a sprint but a long distance race!
So although we are provided a family or acquired one, family is often totally ignored and neglected in favor of an abstraction called freedom. But shall there be freedom without family?
Are we fighting to stand on the mountain top alone? What joy is this, what pleasure? Men often have their eyes glued to the sky and it takes a woman to bring us down to earth, almost literally, as in: "Git in the bed Malcolm and let them nigguhs go for a minute. Forget the X, just be Malcolm, please. You doin all this work for what? What you gonna have for your family when them nigguhs cut you loose?"
It is so very difficult to focus on the beloved because we are obsessed with the task at hand and the snakes in the grass, with deception and treachery the nature of political life.
There is clear evidence things got better between Malcolm and Betty. On more than one occasion I heard her discussing Malcolm, saying that he was, more than anything, her lover. And then she smiled, blushed and gave out that little laugh she was known for, revealing a deep love for the man. I am confident, in the afterlife, they are together in spite of the hell they endured in this life. Once I learned Betty was a Gemini like myself, I instantly understood her alleged crazy actions and insatiable desires.
--Marvin X from In the Crazy House Called America, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 2002.
204 CHILDREN
The most blind, deaf and dumb fool recognizes there is a spiritual connection between him and his children. When he looks at his children, he sees himself physically, mentally and spiritually. He recognizes an interacting life-force. The child walks like him, sleeps all over the bed like him. The child dreams the dreams he dreamed but never realized. And the child goes about his daily round fulfilling the dreams of his father/mother, unconscious his parents had such dreams. Praise be to the Holy Spirit.
But let us be clear as Gibran taught, your children are not you, though they came through you, they have their own missions to accomplish. Gibran said, we are the bow, they are the arrow. We are from a world they shall never know, and they are from a world we shall never know. They look at us in wonder, an d we look at them in wonder. And it’s all good in the hood. We must advise them, listen to them, but let them find their own voice, as we found ours. Let them slip and fall, let them dance and sing, let them be successful and rejoice, for it is their time--we had ours, and we had a ball, we did all that we could do, enjoying every moment. So how can we deny them their moment in time and space, without our overbearing hand, our newfound purity and morality.
Today, we have great fears about the children of this generation. But fear not, they shall do what they came to do and it shall be a blessing to the ancestors. There are children among us with the greatest minds the world has ever seen. They shall astound the world, making Colin and Condi mental retards.
Imagine, we are the generation of Parker, Coltrane, Eric Dolphy, Monk, Duke, Bessie, Lady Day, Ella, Sarah, what on earth can follow us but the earth shaking children of tomorrow or today even, who shall smash the atmosphere with sounds beyond the beyond, words, thoughts, ideas and creations beyond our imaginations. Star children, right?
Let us hail them, praise them, the children of today and tomorrow. Let us not fear them, question them, no matter how robotic they sound in their music, no matter how their raps resemble nursery rhymes and fairy tales of yesterday. Salute the children, don’t condemn them, even if they are monsters, for they are monsters of our creation, nothing more. We made them, we left them alone to fend for themselves, whether they were in foster homes or boarding schools--we left them because we feared them and now they fear us. They hate us--they are willing to kill us unless we embrace them with healing love and truth.
205 Parable of Children and the Catholic Church
They have defiled children for centuries, without hesitation or remorse. They molested children who lost their innocence forever, who in turn became molesters themselves, passing on this evil from generation to generation.
Hiding behind their robes was filth and squalor, deceiving the righteous of their birthright to be holy and pure as the driven snow. They are an abomination unto the Lord and He shall destroy this house utterly, root and branch.
They shall be taken up and cast down into a lake of fire. There is no redemption for defiling children. There is no forgiveness, no mercy. Shameless in their filth and slime, seducing children at the altar, sacrificing their right to be vessels of God's holy spirit, and all for property rights, to keep inheritance in the church. You would change the natural order of life for a price, denying the right of children to grow up clean and undefiled.
You have pretended to represent God, yet you are the devil's agent without a modicum of doubt. There is no holiness in your robes, they are bloodstained with the debauchery of your hearts.
You claim that life is sacred, yet you abort the souls of the innocent. You preach the right to life, yet your program is death of the heart, death of innocence. At your altar, you sacrifice and consume the blood and bones of babes. No one can trust you, except the devil you serve. Your wickedness persists into the now. But justice shall find you in the night and slay you while you pray unto the God who has forsaken you and condemned your wickedness done in His name.
And beware, all you other religious vipers, your day is near when you too shall stand naked before your God for your iniquities done in His name, whether Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu, Buddhist, Vudun, Yoruba, Jah Rastafari. You too have taken liberties with children and shall meet the God of Justice. And He shall not provide one ounce of mercy for your souls.
You too have made children slaves and stolen the joy and happiness of their lives.
--Marvin X
206 Parable of Insecurity
We are full of fear. We trust no one, especially our mate. He/she is going to have sex with someone, we know for sure. It is only a matter of time.
If he does, I will kill him. I don’t trust him. I would never leave him alone with my girlfriends. He’s a whore, I know it. He was a whore when I met him. Yes, he’s handsome. I know the girls want him. I can see how they look at him, but he’s mine! Yes, I own his dick. He better not give it up, I will kill his ass, so help me God. I will cut off his dick, like that woman did.
He vowed to be true to me and me alone. I wish I would catch him screwing around. I wish I would catch him in a lie. Don’t lie to me, nigguh! Don’t like to me. I will do you like that woman did to Al Green: pour some hot grits on yo ass—so help me Jesus!
207 VIP Nigguhs and Rape
Allegations of rape go back to Biblical times, remember Joseph and the vizier's wife? She attempted to rape him, but lied to her husband that Joseph was the villain, which almost cost Joseph his head, it did get him thrown into the dungeon. He was high profile and all men in such a position are a danger to themselves when approached by women who want to be with the "star." Now some men are rapist outright, some of their actions being culturally approved, part of male socialization. As a teenager, we committed gang rape every Sunday at the show, a consistent act along with popcorn, cartoons and the white man killing Indians.
What a horrible act of manhood training that I'm sure didn't help our later sexual relations, especially in my case because I would later rape my wife every night, every day and twice on Sunday. Yes, in my patriarchal way of thinking, I owned my wife's body, mind and soul. I was insatiable and she had a duty to satisfy me no matter how she felt, tired, sick or otherwise. Don't tell me to go to sleep or wait until tomorrow--fuck tomorrow, give up the funk or get yo ass kicked b.
Sounds like something from the Flintstones and of course it is. At least that's how it was, and although I have matured and reformed, seems that many of my brothers haven't heard the news that cave men can do time for taking pussy. Somehow, the message must go out that we can't get away with such actions any longer, especially after OJ, Mike Tyson, R Kelly and numerous other rappers, entertainers and athletes. Brothers, what part don't you get, what dots can't you connect? And how important is pussy to you, is it really worth your entire career, your very freedom for a hot moment of passion in the dressing room, in the bathroom or bedroom because a two dollar ho wants to be in your presence?
Of course every woman wants to be with a star, to share the limelight, if only for a hot minute, a moment to remember, or just to set you up, maybe for the white man, and you go for it like simple Simon. We can't blame the woman for knocking our hotel door down, but Dr. Hare says, "If you don't want the harlot, don't open the door." Game supposed to recognize game, but obviously some nigguhs can't see the devil in the blue dress: you open the door and next thing you know your're facing twenty-five years to life. How could you've been that stupid--simple, ego tripping, thinking you're the hog with the big nuts, you can have all the girls. I've gone through it in theatre: the unwritten law in theatre is that the director gets the first shot at the new recruit, wannabe actress or actor. And there were times when I had so many women, other women refused to give me pussy, they said, "No, Marvin, you got too much pussy already, leave me alone."
And on tour, women will beat you to your hotel room. You can't get into your room for the women lined up at your door. What is a man to do? Life on the road is lonely. What do you do after the applause. You want to freak! Well, better have some discretion because a moment of freaking may cost you big money and big time, plus may cost your health, ask Magic Johnson, Ezey E.
Where are your bodyguards, your security? Get them on their job or you won't have a job You won't have a life. No, you will not be a member of the sucker free club!
208 Confession of a Rapist
I took the pussy
Yes, I took the pussy
After buying dresses, pantyhose
Cocaine, Courvoisier, Columbian
I took the pussy
After buying breakfast lunch dinner
After money on gas and motel
After arguing and fighting all night
I took the pussy
Pried her legs open
And took the pussy
She was no stranger
She was my girlfriend
She was my wife
But I took the pussy.
--Marvin X, circa 1981.
209 Eldridge Cleaver, Confession of a Rapist
I hated to send Eldridge packing but enough was enough. I was tired of his focus on the phallus. I wanted to understand his fixation with this male organ that had caused him so much trouble throughout his life. What was the sexual psychology or pathology of this man? What was going on in the deep structure of his mind that over powered all other subjects and concerns. Obviously it was compulsive obsessive behavior. But didn't I suffer a sexual addiction as well, was not my polygamy merely the expression of a sexual addiction gone wild? After all, no matter how much sex I had it was never enough, I was never satisfied, and I am certain the women were never satisfied either, certainly not psychologically and probably not sexually since they are one—psycho-sexuality.
I came to realize that my psychosexuality was nothing more than an expression of my addictive personality, that no matter what I did it would become an addiction, that I could never get enough, whether it was alcohol, weed or other drugs. There was no social drinking in my book, rather, my object was to drink to get drunk as possible, to smoke weed until there was no more, and to do the same with Crack which is called chasing the dragon that is forever eluding one's grasp.
So maybe Cleaver suffered a similar addictive personality, except that his was focused on his sexuality, and of course he went to the extreme with rape, actually a pathology that transcends sex into the realm of power and domination, and according to what he told me, it was not only to have power over the female but the male as well. He told me the process of the rapist. First, he would stalk the motel, lying in wait for a couple to check in and once they put the key in the door and opened it, he would charge into them, blocking the door with his foot. Then he would tie the man and woman and proceed to rape the woman while the man watched. He said his joy was not having sex with the woman but in making the man watch his woman transform from resistance to acceptance of his sexual aggression.
Of course he told us in Soul on Ice that he practiced on black women and perfected with white women. And ultimately he served eighteen years in prison for his psychopathic behavior. Should we conclude that he was simply a sick puppy, yet thank him for whatever positive contribution he made to the liberation struggle. After all, he did not have to join the struggle, he could have been a very successful writer, but he chose social activism rather than commercial success, some might say to the detriment of many people or to the movement in general. But would it have been the same without Eldridge? Bobby Seale blames me for keeping Eldridge from the Panthers, then he blames me for introducing Eldridge to them. You can't have it both ways, Bobby!
But we can say the liberation was inundated with social psychopaths, or as Dr. Cornell West likes to say, "Those maladjusted to injustice." Yes, as in any liberation struggle, there are criminal psychopaths, hustlers, opportunists, agent provocateurs, snitches, uncle toms, along with the sincere, the honest, the romantics, idealists and dreamers. Sometimes they are in one personality, thus the complexity of some individuals and the simplicity of others.
I remember the night we were in Los Angeles during his Born Again days. We wanted to get served by prostitutes, so we were in the motel area near Sunset Strip. But as we were going into the motel with our ladies, we saw a blind man being led up the stairs by a sex worker. Eldridge acknowledged the sexual needs of the blind man and the service the worker was performing, thus he lambasted those who want to outlaw prostitution which has a social need as evidenced by the blind man. Would society deny the blind man satisfaction? --From My friend the Devil, a memoir, Marvin X, 2009.
210 Moment in paradise
Moment in Paradise
Now that we are in heaven
Will the scars of hell ever heal?
Let’s take a midnight swim
Don’t be afraid, my beloved
The tide will return soon
Let us talk until then
We have not talked in so long
We have not been our true selves
In so long
I don’t even know who you are
Isn’t that strange
To be with a person
To love a person
Yet you do not know their worth
That is why we came to this land
We left the wilderness
To see who we really are
My beloved, look, the tide is in
Come, let’s take that midnight swim.
II
When the sun comes up, we are up
She is making mind tea with lemon and honey
Raul’s yellow boat still parked in the water
Maybe his nets have caught another shark
If so he will ask me to drive him to town
So he can sell it for 50 pesos
My beloved washing dishes on the shore
A gayle on her head
Just think, I have never told her how beautiful she is to me
Hell put chains on our hearts
Nothing is more painful
Than loving someone
Yet ignorance separates you
My beloved
One day I shall know who you are
And love you a thousand times more
For now, let us enjoy this moment in paradise
Come, massage me
Here in the shade
Rub around my neck and shoulders
Around my waist
Then I’ll massage you.
--from Selected Poems, and In The Name of Love,
Marvin X, Laney College Theatre production, 1981.
211 Parable of Pain
We sometimes look upon people from the outside only, never imagining what might be going on inside them, in the deep structure of their psyche, the pain and unresolved grief that may be lurking there, sometimes about to explode. We look at a woman and say to ourselves or to someone else how fine she is. She so fine I wish she was mine, but little do we know Miss Fine is a monster, a beast who has suffered much trauma in her life.
And it may not be mental trauma but physical as well. In this hostile environment we are subject to a host of diseases of any and every variety. Miss Fine may come from a family with a myriad problems of which we don't care to know, but she is so fine, I wish she was mine!
There is no need to imagine the possible source of the pain beneath her beauty, but we need to be careful looking upon her beauty. There was a beautiful woman who had a dimple, but she didn't think the dimple was so cute since it was from getting her jaw broken by her step father.
There is so much pain in the world that we should stay prayed up, thankful and thoughtful that we get through each day, not worrying about yesterday or tomorrow.
5/4/10
212 Anger Management during the Holidays
From December through Super bowl Sunday is probably the most violent and crime-filled period in the American year. During the holidays crime rises due to poverty in the midst of plenty – the poor see the wealthy smiling and shopping to their hearts’ content, while the poor have nothing, are devoid of smiles and walk with heads bowed, rather than singing carols about Mary’s baby.
There is tension in the home, between wives, husbands and children, even relatives. In all families, rich and poor, there are likely tensions on a regular basis but they are exacerbated during the season of joy, for all are not joyful and many cannot pretend, thus violence erupts in the home and in the streets – homicide is high, even suicide for those depressed and lonely during this time, those without friends, disconnected from relatives or too alienated to strive towards reconciliation. Many children are alienated from parents, have divided loyalties between mother and father because of past abuses or supposed wrongs. In short, they aren’t speaking. Some couples are in the process of separation and/or divorce, so the holiday season sometimes adds tension to their already strained relationship, affecting the traumatized children in these family affairs. Couples who worked many years to accumulate the material trappings of America suddenly find their efforts ending in failure, their happy home the subject of a bitter divorce battle, so there may not be a Xmas tree in the apartment they now inhabit.
My sister, herself the victim of a drug addicted husband, who finally divorced him, recently counseled one of our cousins who is now in the midst of an ugly divorce. My sister told my cousin, “Don’t worry, this is a process you’re going through. I went through it – you’ll get over it, I assure you, even the hatred you now feel will subside in time…” My sister’s new man’s car was “keyed” by her ex-husband – there was a long scratch about 1/8 inches deep on the hood, but she is now over it and living a good life.
Very few things in life are important and worth the stress we suffer thinking about them and sometimes acting on them. If the lover doesn’t love, let the lover go, for there is a better lover awaiting you. First of all, be sure you are loving yourself in order to receive love. If you are not happy with yourself, you will never be happy with anyone, not now, not in a million years.
And as for the holidays, make every day a holy day. Be thankful and joyful every day that you have breath of life. Consider the ones who don’t, who check out this morning. They may have been rich or poor, don’t matter, they are called home, crossed over Jordan or whatever. You are still here and have the opportunity to make it a good day every day you remain.
Don’t waste time with anger, probably the leading cause of cancer and violence. Whatever is troubling you, let it go. And what good are material things when what you really lack are spiritual things – the true essence of life? “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and all things will be added unto you.” Are material things worth killing over? Are they worth going to jail and prison over? You want to kill your wife because she doesn’t love you, but do you love you? Do you love her? Do you show love by your actions? You want to kill your boyfriend because he got another woman – if you don’t like it, get another boyfriend. Simple. Don’t key his car or her car. Life is precious, time is precious – don’t waste time treading water in useless relationships. One day you will wonder where all the supposed love went – answer: nowhere, if fact, it never existed, it was an illusion from the beginning, from day one. Yes, all those years were for naught, zip. Don’t get mad at the other party, get mad at your stupid self for being a damn fool.
Brothers, go that extra mile with your brother – why are you so quick to attack your brother – you won’t unite to attack the man who has oppressed you and your ancestors, terrorize you and your ancestors for four centuries. But you are ever ready to take your brother’s life, for the slightest thing, even a glance of the eye, especially in your mind-altered state. But consider this: when you kill your brother you kill yourself.
A few years ago, a friend of mine was killed over a woman in Las Vegas. Another friend was mad because his woman fell in love with the other brother. So my friend was shot as he came outside a casino in Vegas. After he killed my friend who was also his friend, the killer stood over the fallen warrior muttering, “I told you to leave ma woman alone, ah told you, ah told you man. Why you wouldn’t leave ma woman alone. I love ma woman, man.”
So my friend is dead, the killer is in prison and the woman gone on up the road with Jodie. As Mao taught, “Some deaths are higher than Mount Tai, some deaths are lighter than a feather.” Brothers killing brothers is lighter than a feather – ain’t about nothing, not two dead flies, not fifty cents. No territory was conquered, no bank vaults seized, no government overthrown, no prisoners liberated. The only reminder of a valuable, precious human life gone is a pitiful, momentary shrine on the block or street corner containing empty bottles of high priced alcohol, candles, flowers and graffiti saying R.I.P.
Have we forgotten our battle for freedom, justice and equality – have we not noticed people around the world are yet giving their lives in a sacred struggle to liberate their lands from oppressors and infidels? Does it ever occur to us that we might consider doing the same: liberate our community from foreign occupation by alien police and blood sucking merchants? Enjoy the holidays – let there be peace in the hood.
213 Prostitution
Prostitution should be legalized. If the gay and lesbian lifestyles and marriage can be legalized, why not prostitution, the oldest trade in the world? Traditionally homosexuality and prostitution have been labeled immoral, but let us come into the modern era: there are many things in life that we disagree with but must come to tolerate. The ancient institution of prostitution ain’t going nowhere soon. It is found in all cultures throughout the world. Supposedly, it began with the priestess: she was the first prostitute or sex worker. The prostitute or sex worker or priestess welcomed strangers into town and served them. For her services she received a love offering for the temple god, the priest and herself. At some point in time her activity got too far out and she was put out of the temple into the street, where she exists today, although I understand there are still a few church ho’s around the temple.
But primarily she is in the street, unless there are houses where she can work legally, such as in the state of Nevada. In Nevada the preacher doesn’t preach against gambling or prostitution. Many of the ladies who work at the whore house also attend the local churches. They are not considered sinners, just women who work. When I lived in Reno, one preacher received a Cadillac from the owner of a whore house. And this preacher was from the Church of God in Christ.
I understand the ladies were paid well and received regular health checks. Why shouldn’t a man visit a lady if he is in need, maybe when his wife or girlfriend refuses to serve him, especially in the manner he likes.
At least when he pays the ho or sex worker, she will do as instructed, thus relieving his stress. He may not want to be romantic, just get a tension relief. He may hate talking and/or foreplay. He may not be able to rap as we assume all Negroes can from rap videos. Every Negro can’t rap or talk for his--they just don’t have the gift of gab.
Crack cocaine enabled a lot of brothers to get with a woman because all they had to do was drop the Crack on the table and the woman fulfilled all his dreams and desires--there was no need to rap. Some brothers who try to rap turn a square woman off, even a prostitute.
So the prostitute is available for many reasons, for the blind and disabled, the elderly and others. Why should it be illegal, especially when so many other “immoral acts” are rapidly becoming legal?
Recently an elderly judge was busted for soliciting prostitution. But what was he to do: his wife had passed away. What is wrong with an old man getting himself a little action, especially when gays and lesbians can do their thing in public and any attempt to heap scorn on them is a hate crime?
Usually the prostitute does not subject the trick to her moods as with the wife or girlfriend. If the sex worker (and I hate this term) is good, she is not going to boss the man around, telling him to do this or that, she knows what to do and does it so she can get paid and get on.
And when her attitude is positive, she deserves a tip. I remember getting served by a Crack ho on the east coast. Now the Crack Ho doesn’t require a lot of money, sometimes two or three dollars. This is why the Crack Ho put the prostitute out of business for awhile. But this woman came into my hotel room and immediately got busy--we didn’t even discuss money. She got busy and went beyond the call of duty. I appreciated her attitude and when she was finished, I gave her a generous love offering, even though we had not agreed on a price. She smiled and said, “I knew you were going to give me that.”
Guess she read my mind or perhaps she took my mind. I was satisfied and so was she--fair exchange ain’t no robbery.
Prostitution is not legal because men are not organized as are gays, lesbians and transgender people. If they can fight for their rights, why can’t men who love Ho’s?
Why should they sneak and hide like dogs rather than fight to pass legislation so they can enjoy themselves with the ladies they like on occasion?
When wives and girlfriends satisfy a man’s needs, perhaps Ho’s will go out of business. But it appears they will be around, so do it right. Control disease, control abuse and exploitation. There are women who love serving men for a fee. Now there are those who say all women serve men for a fee. As one of my friend’s woman said, “I know I’m just a ho in disguise.”
And of course, there must be facilities for women to get their needs fulfilled when they can ‘t get it at home.
It is time to use our intelligence to configure a functional society, rather than continue this dysfunctional circus we have going now, wherein we act like dogs, pigs and other beasts of the field. There’s an animal way and there’s a spiritual way, and the right way is clearly distinct from error, Al Qur’an.
214 Same Sex Marriage, Straight Men and Prostitution
It matters not to me whether gays and lesbians can legally marry. It's none of my business. And maybe this new marriage configuration will serve as a model for human relationships, still it is not my concern, since I am not into that lifestyle, although I do love lesbians, speaking as a dirty old man.
But seriously, my concern is with straight men, and I have been involved with the men's movement since we produced the Black Men's Conference at the Oakland Auditorium, 1980.
I am ashamed of straight men for being unorganized and hypocritical, since they want to condemn gays and lesbians for their lifestyle, yet straight men cannot entertain prostitutes, ho's, sex workers or whatever you want to call women who charge men for sex. A friend's wife told me, "I know I'm just a ho in disguise." So marriage can be called prostitution as well but I am really concerned with straight men who appear angry and jealous at gays and lesbians because they have organized for their rights, no matter what we think about them. They have come together to fight for the right to legally marry. And the irony is that straight couples have little right to condemn the gays/lesbians when 50% of straight marriages end in divorce.
And of course the two main reasons are issues of sex and finance, with the resultant domestic violence, including verbal and emotional abuse. Perhaps straight people need to consider a reconfiguration of so-called monogamy, especially with respect to sex outside of marriage. In short, I favor legalization of prostitution, but this would require straight men to get organized as the gays and lesbians have done, but instead of fighting for the rights of straight men to exercise their human right to have sex with whomever they please, they are exhausting their time fighting against same sex marriage. Look at yourself, straight men, look in the mirror at your behavior, Tiger Woods, Kobe Bryant, McNair (now deceased). With your billions and millions, you cannot have sex with whomever you desire but must be treated like a criminal dog, beaten by your spouse, murdered in your sleep and charged with criminal behavior, including rape, only because you have not organized yourselves to secure the rights you desire and deserve.
As men, you are pitiful, especially with your billions and millions of dollars, yet get treated like a dog. How can you call yourself a man when you must sneak around in the alley, lie, cheat, or steal away into the night to be with the one you love--or the other one you love.
Thus, in your powerlessness, in your jealousy and envy, you waste your time condemning the gays and lesbians for doing their thing yet you can't do shit. You are less than a gay and lesbian on the scale of humanity. Get organized for your rights and leave other people's rights alone. And tell your wives they don't own your dicks and you don't own their pussies.
215 Dialogue on Prostitution
The tragedy of the following dialogue is that no men replied to my request to discuss this topic, yet they are intimately
involved in the sex trade as pimps and tricks, even male hos. I say they are cowardly, hypocritical bastards. No wonder women call us weak motherfuckers.
Rehema
We done went deeply shallow. We talking about legalizing prostitution and same sex marriage! CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE TALK ABOUT CULTURAL HISTORICAL AMNESIA...!!! Like damn, white folks just come and liberate us from our oppressive, repressive culture that did not allow this thing in the “closet”. in Egypt and before, to come out? Were we waiting on these Johnny-come-lately-from-the-cave fools to enlighten us into opening up to our “found selves” and lay with the same sex, but we just couldn’t do it until they came along and liberated our consciousness? What the hell are we thinking? We need to do some serious research and fast! These are the folk who did the crusades with their own children, and who killed five or so million women just cuz they were women. I am not professing the answers, but I can tell you that when pigeons and other animals start having homosexual relations, shit has gone way wrong. We need to really look at the thing that we consider ill behavior and check it.
We need a serious look at ourselves through our own eyes and not through the eyes of our oppressor. One of our most powerful revolutionaries, Amilcar Cabral of Guinea Bissau observed, “Liberation is an act of culture and one can measure a people’s chance for achieving liberation by the qualitative difference between the culture of the oppressed and the culture of the oppressor.” We often use the term “culture” loosely. Prostitution has been around since the beginning of time or homosexuality has been around since the beginning of time, but where do these studies come from? We must be careful and really check ourselves. Did this really and truly exist in a just and balanced society of ten thousand years ago? Really? Anyway, peace, and let us grow together! Rehema Bah
Marvin
Rehema, you have said a mouthful, so I want to respond. But your point about memory is key, culture is memory, collective, and we definitely suffer collective amnesia, thus our behavior is demonic, that is we express love with hate. Listen to the conversation between mates, it is often not the language of love but hate, anger, insecurity, jealousy, envy--and we're/they're supposed to be lovers. Historically, if we are the first man and women, from which all others come, then all aspects of human culture came from us, the good, bad, ugly, whether homosexuality, prostitution, murder, greed, selfishness, the gamut of psycho-sociology. The key to all human activity is the balance, not going over the precipice. If there is a man shortage, the natural response would be either polygamy and/or lesbianism. The devastation from war in our community is an abundance of women without men. The men are either mentally deranged from the effects of white supremacy, or imprisoned from the same. They are not in college as any visit will attest. And 25% to 50 % are unemployed, thus unable to take care of their families except through criminal activity. They are in constant danger of being taken out by another brother or the white man. So their own mental and social instability makes them a bad choice for a mate, hence the many problems when they do connect with another person who is likely suffering the same trauma, whether male or female. Dr. Julia Hare called it political and sexual anorexia, a slow death of the heart and mind. Without the collective memory or mythology, things go from bad to worse because at best we improvise, trying this, trying that—try-sexuality it's called. But Dr. Nathan Hare tells us no amount of sex, drugs, religiosity, money, will satisfy the social angst and shattered cultural strivings.
Fanon, Hare and others have told us the way to mental health is through social action called revolution, seizing power over ourselves and all institutions that sustain us as human beings. Only then can we configure new patterns of social interaction. Until then, all that we do is improvisation or jazz, trying to find our "voice," trying to do a solo while the band (community) waits for us to take the horn out our mouth. Thus it doesn't matter whether it's homosexuality, heterosexuality, prostitution, polygamy, polyandry or a combination thereof, it is all transient, elusive and ephemeral, pending the permanent revolution. Haiti is an example of people who had their revolution but didn't make it permanent and have suffered ever since.
And we North American Africans are symbolically and literally quite similar to the Haitians, for our situation is just as fragile and yet just as valiant. But ours and theirs will not improve until we stand up and take control, then practice eternal vigilance, never allowing reaction to set in. The Cuban revolution is a good example of the permanent revolution. So what does sex have to do with it? Nothing except our sexuality is socially determined by the circumstances of our lives.
After the US government's destruction of the black liberation movement, why would we expect strong black men and women to exist when the purpose of the destruction was to destroy black power, male and female, to turn it into some kind of twisted, convoluted version of what it was so that it will never again strive for liberation-- or try an apolitical liberation that means nothing but hedonism or nihilism as we see in hip hop culture. These are the warrior children lost and turned out from revolution, diverted to other causes, now focused on their sexual identity while their ancestors knew the only matter to identify with was freedom, not individual but collective. If revolution is to restore family and perpetuate family, how did we get diverted into lifestyles that are anti-family, such as the drug culture, reactionary hip hop culture and apolitical activities that only advance the individual. Nor can same gender marriage perpetuate the race. Can two roosters continue the chicken race? Or two hens? But as Rehema noted, chickens, cows, fish and humans are turning homosexual, so we need to question is this a natural happening or some freak occurrence induced by bio-chemical warfare. Is it in the water that is being recycled with hormones, certainly we know the animals are injected with growth hormones to get them to the market place quicker, and we see the result with our children, especially the girls, having periods at nine and ten, and we see the feminization of our boys as well.
I don't believe this is happening naturally but is a genocidal plot to keep us off balance mentally and socially. I don't mean to condemn same gender loving people, but I think the focus on sexuality is a diversion from the task at hand which is the total liberation of a people, of the planet, from the scourge of white supremacy domination in all its forms, including black face or gay/lesbian face. As brother Jones noted, the racism in same gender loving white people is no different than the white supremacy of their heterosexual brothers and sisters.
And there is a lot of the same hatred and bitterness in black same gender loving persons toward black heterosexuals, while black heterosexuals have long tolerated the same gender lifestyle. It has been prevalent in the church, colleges and universities, the arts and elsewhere. Did anybody condemn Luther, Langston, Baldwin, June Jordan, Audre Lourde, Nikki Giovanni, Angela Davis for their sexuality?
Do we not love them and embrace them, no matter if they were/are same gender loving. Are we not better because they lived? But revolution means change, so change we must, change our values to keep apace a world in rapid transformation, at the same time we cannot throw out the baby with the wash water. There are basic values that must be maintained to insure the perpetuation of the species unless we want to commit mass suicide and fall victim to genocide. As they say in the game, all money ain't good money. And so everything that tastes, looks, feels good ain't good. And we know for a surety our perception is warped if not demented, for when have we had the opportunity to think with a clear mind, free of trauma, amnesia, schizophrenia, manic depression and other mental scars caused by oppression. We know the white supremacy domination society, with its "free" market society and civilization (though I hesitate to called this a civilization--what did the Last Poets say, "This is madness!"
Look at yourself, straight men, look in the mirror at your behavior, Tiger Woods, Kobe Bryant, McNair (now deceased). With your billions and millions, you cannot have sex with whomever you desire but must be treated like a criminal dog, beaten by your spouse, murdered in your sleep and charged with criminal behavior, including rape, only because you have not organized. I favor legalization of prostitution, but this would require straight men to get organized.
Adaoma
I want to address your advocacy of legalizing prostitution. You can have sex with whomever you like, as long as she is of the age of consent and is willing. Nothing is stopping you. If you happen to be married, adultery is not a criminal act in America and in most countries in the world. There is open marriage, if you like. Or, why marry at all? You mentioned no spiritual or moral limitation for yourself nor will I place any on you.
Therefore, you are free to all the options above. In light of this, however, you advocate that it be made legal for a man to purchase and own the body of a woman as a commodity, to use for pleasure, or pain as it may be. Despite the male bias that has prevailed for centuries...until now, prostitution is male violence against women.
Women in prostitution are 18 times more likely to be murdered than women of similar age and race;
80% sustained bruises,
35% sustained broken bones;
47% sustained head injuries,
53% sustained mouth and teeth injuries;
86% felt depressed, 41% felt hopeless;
64% felt suicidal,
63% have hurt themselves or attempted suicide;
68% of women in prostitution meet the criteria for diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder.
In Chicago:25% of the women in drug houses, hotels, and on the street were raped more than 10 times;
21% of the women in escort services were raped more than 10 times;
“Johns” – men who purchase sex acts – were the most frequent perpetrators of violence. Though women being prostituted has been referred to as the "Oldest profession", it is not a profession at all. It is an activity that a woman is forced into because of illiteracy and poverty. No little girl desires to grow up to have sex with strangers for money. Prostitution of women is legalized in Amsterdam, Australia, Belgium, Germany and Sweden. In none of these places did legalization stop the physical violence to women and girls, sex trafficking of women and girls and the slavery of women and girls by their handlers.
Sweden, took a different approach to prostitution. Sweden decided to decriminalize the sell of sex and began to criminalize the sex purchasers, the agents of prostitutes and the sex traffickers. "In Sweden prostitution is regarded as an aspect of male violence against women and children. It is officially acknowledged as a form of exploitation of women and children and constitutes a significant social problem... gender equality will remain unattainable so long as men buy, sell and exploit women and children by prostituting them.
No, its not prostitution that is the "Oldest Profession in the world" It is the exploitation of women to meet the desire for sex, it is the "trick and the John", it is the pimp and the sex traffickers that would sell and buy women like capitalist do with worker's labor. Sex trafficking is a multibillion dollar business where women who are prostituted don't make a profit. While you bemoan the abuses of men who find other lovers, consider the lifestyle of violence that the women you wish to buy and own like commodities suffer. And, stop lying...Marriage is no form of prostitution. If so, there is probably grounds for annulment...no divorce fees.
Marvin
So there is no violence, exploitation, abuse in same gender loving relationships or heterosexual relationships? Married men pay the cost to be the "boss", therefore marriage is a form of prostitution--even freedom ain't free! Although we cannot put all partner abuse on the capitalists since much of it happened in pre-capitalist societies, and still occurs in underdeveloped communities, especially pre-colonized and neo-colonized nations. If a woman is abused, does it matter if she is a "ho" or wife, girlfriend? Oh, ok, it's a matter of degree.
When people evolve there shall be a right way and wrong way to do things. France recently made verbal abuse of women on the same level as physical abuse. In America men and women can be charged with making terrorist threats to each other. Amazingly, all this abuse is done in the name of love, including the prostitution, although rape and violence are sick love. And even the everyday language of partners is an aberration of the love language. And further, not only are tricks, johns, pimps and other men capitalist pigs, but women as well, after all, they collaborate with the capitalist pigs by desiring and demanding their men acquire for them the crass materialism of capitalist society. And it matters not that they are now able to acquire for themselves the conspicuous consumption trinkets of capitalist society.
If women, men and children stopped shopping at the malls and stores of the capitalist pigs, his world would fall in an instant. More often than not, the man pays his "pussy bill" in his role as co-dependent of his capitalist pig woman whose closets are filled to capacity with goods she desired but didn't need and refuses to share with the less fortunate by donating them. The sexual activity, the conspicuous consumption, the delusional make believe mental world with the resultant psychoses and physical abuse, all stem from our addiction to white supremacy. And in the patriarchal societies it is primitive religiosity that allows the same aberrations to exist and grow into full blown pathologies. --Marvin X
Adaoma
Marvin, You wrote this -In short, I favor legalization of prostitution, but this would require straight men to get organized.
And, I responded with this: "I am addressing your advocacy of legalizing prostitution, only." Therefore, I will skip your first sentence and deal with the second. So, are you telling me that husbands must go through a third party to have sex with their wife? Or that they must put some cash in the till next to her bed before making love to her? Are you saying that if men are not sexually pleased by their wives they get a refund? No! Your analogy doesn't fit. Prostitution by definition implies that women have multiple sex partners for money. So, if a woman is the prostitute in the marriage (according to your analogy..).where are the other partners? Or is she stuck just trying to get paid from hubby's limited finances??? The reality is that most wives are not kept women at home, but, working women who sometimes makes more than the husband. Quote me where I said all capitalists were men. I did not. Further, you implied that all women were capitalist pigs...into consumerism and filling their closets. Not all women are materialistic. It’s simply not so. So, let's talk about the real issue of prostituting women. The real focus needs to be on the customer, the market for sex. It is the market that abuses the "commodity". It relegates the whole woman to one body part. (which you, Marvin, don't even call the one body part by its proper name.), separating her from her humanity....as I did when I consciously called 'tricks', 'johns' and 'pimps to be 'capitalist pigs'. I did it for shock value. I respect all humanity. The problem is that women and little girls get herded into the industry from around the world by tricksters promising other employment, promising education, promising debt relief for their families and they forced to fulfill a market demand and produce hard cash. Little girls as young as seven years old are forced, raped. Sweden has proven, as I mentioned, that targeting the customer, rather than the woman, has reduced the violence to women, the consumer market and ultimately the prostituting of women. Followed by education, and healthful and helpful resources to women, women have more options for living. A customer (trick, john) or agent/sex trafficker (pimp) is part of the problem, not part of the solution. The nameless "ho" he may have bought to boss could be a desperate woman or a dressed up little girl.
So, Marvin X, now that you've heard me out, you have the floor to give your explanation on why you still think that prostitution should be legalized...that if you still think so.
Prostitution creates a setting whereby crimes against men, women, and children become a commercial enterprise.... It is an assault when he/she forces a prostitute to engage in sadomasochistic sex scenes. When a pimp compels a prostitute to submit to sexual demands as a condition of employment, it is exploitation, sexual harassment, or rape -- acts that are based on the prostitute’s compliance rather than her consent. The fact that a pimp or customer gives money to a prostitute for submitting to these acts does not alter the fact that child sexual abuse, rape, and/or battery occurs; it merely redefines these crimes as prostitution."
Marvin
The subject of prostitution cannot be separated from the general condition and treatment of women, whether as partners, wives or in same sex relationships. Women suffer the same violence, emotional and verbal abuse. It is only a matter of degree. Lesbian and gay partners are known to be more violent that heterosexual relationships. In the patriarchal society, all relationships are based on ownership, thus persons suffer the domination of the owners, and in marriage it is sometimes mutual--we own each other. Thus the root problem is buying into the mythology of people as chattel real or personal property. Within this mythological foundation, all relations are essentially the same, whether partners (boyfriend/girlfriend), marriage partners or partners in prostitution (ho/trick). All these relations involve ownership, whether temporary (for the moment as in prostitution) or permanent as in marriage. And all these relationships suffer the resulting violence. After reading my Mythology of Pussy, a brother noted that I said nothing about marriage. I told him he was correct. Under the present patriarchal conditions I cannot suggest marriage to anyone, not under the conditions of ownership of said partners, man or woman, since the woman in marriage feels she owns the man as well. As far as I am concerned, ownership of humans ended with the emancipation of slaves, although it continues as we write, but ownership and domination not only continues in the traffic of human beings, but in marriages as well, especially among the religious community, no matter what religion, African traditional, Judaism, Islam and Christianity.
So I make no distinction between marriage and prostitution--they are both violent, abusive encounters. As my friend's wife noted (RIP), "I know I'm just a ho in disguise (of a wife)."
The man pays his "pussy bill" on a regular basis when he shares the cost of maintaining the relationship or family. He doesn't get free pussy. And who would want free pussy--I would be scared to death of free pussy. "Hey man, that girl/woman is giving away free pussy, don't you want some?" Hell, no.
And if I was with a girlfriend or prostitute, I would not leave her without money, especially if I knew she didn't have any money, and definitely not if we'd had a nice time kicking it without a lot of bullshit and drag. In fact, I would give a bonus just for attitude. And attitude has nothing to do with sex. It's about manners and appreciation. This is no doubt why some men pay a woman just for talk, not sex. They may only want the woman to listen to them, maybe something the wife or girlfriend never does. They may only want to hear a soft feminine voice, not the sound of a bitter bitch.
Again, the exploitation of women is pervasive in a capitalist society, as is the exploitation of men, now known as boy toys, since they are now only needed for sex, not for economic survival. And they are discarded, thrown out at whim, depending on the woman's disposition or phases of the moon.
Once the patriarchal, capitalist society is destroyed, there shall be the possibility of new, radical configurations of human relationships, minus violence, exploitation and ownership. It is doubtful prostitution will ever disappear since men and women seem to have the need for extra partners. Polygamy and Polyandry are possible solutions only if they are beyond the patriarchal mythology, especially within religions. But we would need to be careful with polyandry, especially within a matriarchal society, for
I don't advocate domination by men or women. Why is there the need to dominate? At this point in my life, I don't want to see oppression by anyone, male or female, white or black. We are free spirits, divine beings in human form. We are here to express love and joy. Even the prostitute I fell in love with told me she was here to give love to all who needed her love and was willing to pay.
Men who want to exploit women, abuse women, rape women, need to go into a recovery program until they are cured of their addiction that is a mental aberration of the capitalist or society steeped in religiosity of the most primitive, reactionary form. They must be re-socialized into the modern era, trained and armed with the knowledge they do not own women, but only own themselves.
Women are not their property and must be respected as divine beings in human form. Such knowledge will eradicate much partner violence, emotional and verbal abuse. Many men have come to this new realization after reading my little pamphlet The Mythology of Pussy.
Women and young ladies say it empowers them. Mothers are buying it and demanding their daughters and sons read it. The young men say it ups their game. Older brothers say they learned something new. To hear this is the ultimate joy of any writer, to know his work is healing and causing radical change. What other task does he have?
Rasheedah Sabreen
Unless Adaoma has met every little girl in the world of all nationalities I am unclear how she came to this conclusion. I know of two women who entertained such a desire as young girls. The first is my self and the second woman is my god sister's daughter who at the age of twelve announced to her mother that she wanted to be a "ho" and she did. When this child was fourteen she met the future father of her first set of four children. He in turn took her home to his mother's house where he lived. They had one child a year until she was eighteen. In between labors and deliveries he found time to turn her out thereby assisting her in her chosen profession.
Their relationship ended when he walked in on her having sex with a non-paying consort. Her husband/pimp pistol-whipped her causing brain damage to a person who wrote the most beautiful, exquisite poetry I have ever read. As a result of the beating she never again was able to gift her poetic gems to the world nor would she ever again speak or think without impediment. Fate presented me with two incidents in my life when, had I chosen to be a "lady of the evening," I would have walked a totally different path from that which I am now walking. My plan had been to be a courtesan of means.
My services would have been available to the artists, the creative minds among men thus eliminating the riff raff. This idea came to me in my late teens after I read of Mary Magdalene as she is portrayed in Nikos Kazanzakis' novel, "The Last Temptation". My mentor for establishing intellectualism as a criterion for my consorts came from reading "The Diaries of Anais Nin". I will conclude by saying that Adaoma would do well to heed a lyric from a Bob Dylan composition: "Know your song well before you start singing".
Marvin X
Aside from little girls dreaming of being ho's, just as boys in the hood dream of becoming pimps, most ho's give testimony to being molested at home by fathers, brothers, uncles, aunts, mothers.Thus not all come from poverty, not economic poverty. The ho I feel in love with came from a good, middle class, property owning, business owning family. Now she may have been molested, certainly she was physically abused. She told me the dimple in her jaw was not cute to her because it was the result of her step father hitting her.
My attitude on prostitution comes from growing up with my brother whose only desire from childhood was to become a pimp like the ones he saw on Seventh Street in West Oakland where we lived. And then there were good pimpin cousins and friends. I myself am not, nor have I ever been a pimp.
I am a hustler who would not think of waiting for a woman to bring me money. But my attitude was also shaped by living in the state of Nevada where prostitution is legal and controlled by the state. If athletes use their muscles to make money, why can't a woman use hers? The exploitation is what is shameful and disgusting, the violence and abuse.
And how many ho's end up with anything, or how many pimps for that matter? Ask Fillmore Slim what happened to all the money he made off pimping, and ask him where are all the ho's he had. Dead, drugged out or in the mental ward, although any socalled normal person in the capitalist society could end up in those places, so we can't put it on prostitution, unless we understand that America is a pimp/ho society. How many workers retire with anything in America, most die in poverty after a lifetime on the job. They were not pimped, exploited, abused, cogs in the wheel of the capitalist swine?
I am sensitive to the plight of prostitution as a result of seeing the babies on the streets of Oakland, eleven, twelve and thirteen, who obviously know nothing about whoring, some can't even put a rubber on a nigguh, let alone give head or have vaginal sex. They need to go back to school and get their GED, along with their socalled pimp who is on his bicycle, living at his mama's house.
Thank God the state of California has passed legislation decriminalizing the young ho's if they give up the pimp, then the girls are sent into recovery programs. My daughter works for such a project in New York, helping exploited young girls caught up in the traffic.
I will restate the need for men to get organized for what they desire just as the same sex marriage people have done. But of course the real deal is revolution of the social order so that people can live in relationships that are full of love, joy and happiness, not this capitalist, make believe world of conspicuous consumption, which ends up making the men, women and children ho's and tricks of the capitalist dirty swine, blood suckers of the poor.
Rehema Bah
i really think it is crucial that we slow our role and sit in quiet with ourselves and try...try to reach into our higher self. where do we get the idea that prostitution is so old. we were not hungry. as far as i know the hunter gatherer societies in central Africa did not leave signs that they were starving. They moved to where there food was.
They traveled the planet but i have yet to read stories of hunger to the point that women had to sell their bodies to the next extended family or the nearby family to get more berries or such...so come on. Please, as elders we gotta slow and check where this stuff comes from. There are so many scholars that have already done the work for us. And we have a responsibility to do as we are attempting to now, to discuss and explore and come up with sensible thought and approaches for our youth and for the sake of the planet. Africans took ten thousand years to get to level of pre-dynastic Egypt and Egypt its height; to get to the level of science, including cosmology, astronomy, astrology, and more, along with the scholarship that was on the high level of morality and ethics. So coming up to the now, i just don't see where prostitution (meaning someone selling and someone buying, right??) fits in the scheme of things. old as time?? We gotta slow and check our selves. We have a job to at least start to get it right, also we have to really reach out to a space of clarity. It is ok to love our people and not love some behavior. Choice is something else: we can choose to “love” someone and if they don't pan out the way we want we can choose not to “love” them any more and get a divorce or just leave or what ever, demonstrating that there is choice in this matter. i hear you on the possibility of hormones and the like but even if so that shit ain’t normal, and so why not recognize it for what it "aint" and work with it from there.?
If you were raped, miss handled or molested or your mother took the mini pill while breastfeeding you or whatever and we never, ever deal with that but you carry it to your grave or claim “oh, I was born like this”, is that cool? i feel not. And i know for a fact that some men do that. and many women do it as well but more often men, cuz women have places to go and feel as though their situation is accepted and can be talked about whereas men sometimes don't feel that they have a space, safe space, or person who they gonna tell?
On that note we need more aunties and uncles for real in our communities. Our youth need us. And we need to create space for our folk to open up and sort out things. Then we can grow up. There was a young man in our circle that everyone said all around was gay since he was little. His parents let him play with dolls and he had what some of us (especially if you never visited the continent by physical means or media ) called feminine ways. But I often saw him in the African context. And one day when he was much older, I pulled him aside and I said to him “Don’t let anyone define you for you. You decide and define yourself. And use everything you know, not what others don’t know.
The same thing happened to me when I was young. Folk use to ask me was I gay cuz I openly expressed admiration for women/girls or desired to meet so and so. I did not learn that it was ok to feel drawn to women, love being in the company of women, love sharing intimate moments with women, and not want or like sex with women, until I was 24 yrs old. So we got some growing to do. We really do and we really need to have dialog. But it has to be calm, thoughtful, deep, focused and full of love for our people and the planet.
Adaoma
If you are a part of the problem, you are not part of the solution. Definition: A pimp is an agent for prostitutes who lives off their earnings. Pimping is illegal in most countries. The majority of pimps are men. The pimp-prostitute relationship can be abusive, with the pimp using psychological intimidation, manipulation and physical force to control the woman or women he sends out to work. A trick Slang - for a prostitute's customer.
Sex trafficking has two parts to its definition. Sex trafficking is human trafficking for the purpose of Commercial Sexual Exploitation. That’s another way of saying it’s human trafficking into prostitution. Also, in the US, the legal definition of sex trafficking includes the exploitation of anyone under 18 involved in commercial sex. So in the US, a man with a 20 year old working for him is a pimp. If that woman is enslaved then he is a trafficker. A pimp with a 17 year old working for him is a sex trafficker no matter how the girl ended up working for him.
MARVIN X WROTE: The subject of prostitution cannot be separated from the general condition and treatment of women, whether as partners, wives or in same sex relationships. Women suffer the same violence, emotional and verbal abuse. It is only a matter of degree.
ADAOMA SAYS: Not so! There is a great difference between Prostitution (the commercialization of sex) and Domestic Violence (women suffering violence in personal relationships). One is an industry that generates billions of dollars and will cease to run , only, if it is strategically dismantled. If the customer base, the agent and the traffickers are destroyed the industry will be destroyed. The abusive partner, in the case of domestic violence, may be helped with "recovery", as you mention later in this response. So, let us turn our attention, not to the woman, in this case, but to the customer (the John/trick), the agent (pimp) and the trafficker. This has been my focus. Hope we are in tandem.
MARVIN WROTE: Lesbian and gay partners are known to be more violent than heterosexual relationships. In the patriarchal society, all relationships are based on ownership, thus persons suffer the domination of the owners, and in marriage it is sometimes mutual--we own each other. Thus the root problem is buying into the mythology of people as chattel real or personal property. Within this mythological foundation, all relations are essentially the same, whether partners (boyfriend/girlfriend), marriage partners or partners in prostitution (ho/trick).
ADAOMA SAYS: Those are sweeping generalization. All in all, I think that I've clearly shown the difference between Prostitution and domestic violence. You cannot compare a woman being abused by her lover to a woman forced into a sexual business transaction with multiple strangers. That you do compare them explains your use of "pussy" when talking about sexual relationships with women. You don't refer to the woman holistically, only to the part of her that is bought, sold and used, which renders the rest of the woman meaningless, and invisible to the customer. This furthers my argument that prostitution renders a woman a commodity, not a person. Relationships are between people. What's between a John and a prostitute is not a "relationship" that can be compared to marriage. It is a cold business transaction.
MARVIN SAYS: All these relations involve ownership, whether temporary (for the moment as in prostitution) or permanent as in marriage. And all these relationships suffer the resulting violence.
ADAOMA WRITES: Not really. In prostitution, the various customers own the woman temporarily, and, the agent, the pimp, owns her much longer. The pimp owns her as she is useful to him.
MARVIN WROTE: After reading my Mythology of Pussy, a brother noted that I said nothing about marriage. I told him he was correct. Under the present patriarchal conditions I cannot suggest marriage to anyone, not under the conditions of ownership of said partners, man or woman, since the woman in marriage feels she owns the man as well. As far as I am concerned, ownership of humans ended with the emancipation of slaves, although it continues as we write, but ownership and domination not only continues in the traffic of human beings, but in marriages as well, especially among the religious community, no matter what religion, African traditional, Judaism, Islam and Christianity. So I make no distinction between marriage and prostitution--they are both violent, abusive encounters. As my friend's wife noted (RIP), "I know I'm just a ho in disguise (of a wife)."
ADAOMA RESPONDS: Marriage is a legal contract between two consenting people to build a family together. It is a spiritual contract (for those who are married within a religion). In prostitution, there is no contract. In prostitution there is no consent. In prostitution there is no legality and no spirituality. Your comparisons are blown out of the water, Marvin.
MARVIN WROTE: The man pays his "pussy bill" on a regular basis when he shares the cost of maintaining the relationship or family. He doesn't get free pussy.
ADAOMA WROTE: Your statement presupposes that women play no part in maintaining the relationship or family. It also presupposes that a woman's job is to lay on her back or any position you like since he is maintaining the relationship or family". Maybe for the Neanderthal. From all I've read, relationships are far more dynamic than this. On religion. I can only speak about Christianity. The Bible says in Heb. 13:14 -The marriage is honorable in all and the bed undefiled... Which means that husband and wife have liberty to please each other as it pleases them. That sounds a lot more fun than what you're talking about.
MARVIN WROTE: And who would want free pussy--I would be scared to death of free pussy. "Hey man, that girl/woman is giving away free pussy, don't you want some?" Hell, no.
Adaoma
It is for this reason that I agree with the Swedish model of dealing with prostitution. When the customer, the pimp and the trafficker of women and girl are faced with the threat of public exposure, arrest and imprisonment, then prostitution will diminish and finally end.
Marvin
If I was with a girlfriend or prostitute, I would not leave her without money, especially when I knew she didn't have any money, and definitely not if we'd had a nice time kicking it without a lot of bullshit and drag. In fact, I would give a bonus just for attitude. And attitude has nothing to do with sex. It's about manners and appreciation. This is no doubt why some men pay a woman just for talk, not sex. They may only want the woman to listen to them, maybe something the wife or girlfriend never does. They may only want to hear a soft feminine voice, not the sound of a bitter bitch.
Adaoma
Sounds like a personal problem. Marvin, it’s you who sounds like the "bitter bitch", as you say. Perhaps you should keep your money in your pocket and try a little tenderness, if you want a soft spoken tender woman, try approaching a woman with some transparency instead of carrying a lot of "bullshit" as you call it. You may save a lot of cash for your golden years. Because as difficult as it is to hear, some women are just not for sale.
Marvin
Again, the exploitation of women is pervasive in a capitalist society, as is the exploitation of men, now known as boy toys, since they are now only needed for sex, not for economic survival. And they are discarded, thrown out at whim, depending on the woman's disposition or phases of the moon.
Adaoma
What a pity.
Marvin
Once the patriarchal, capitalist society is destroyed, there shall be the possibility of new, radical configurations of human relationships, minus violence, exploitation and ownership. It is doubtful prostitution will ever disappear since men and women seem to have the need for extra partners. Polygamy and Polyandry are possible solutions only if they are beyond the patriarchal mythology, especially within religions. But we would need to be careful with polyandry, especially within a matriarchal society, for I don't advocate domination by men or women. Why is there the need to dominate? At this point in my life, I don't want to see oppression by anyone, male or female, white or black. We are free spirits, divine beings in human form. We are here to express love and joy. Even the prostitute I fell in love with told me she was here to give love to all who needed her love and willing to pay.
Adaoma
When women have more education, more options and more access to the options coupled with the destruction of the customer base of prostitution along with its agents and traffickers women will choose options that will serve her own self-interests, not Tom, Dick and Marvin's. Sweden is the model. In Sweden, women are not doubly victimized by the State and the sex industry. It is the sex industry and its agents that are penalized. And, prostitution in Sweden has shrunken significantly.
Marvin
Men must be cured of their addiction that is a mental and social aberration of the capitalist society or society steeped in religiosity of the most primitive, reactionary form. They must be re-socialized into the modern era, trained and armed with the knowledge they do not own women, but only own themselves. Women are not their property and must be respected as divine beings in human form. Such knowledge will eradicate much partner violence, emotional and verbal abuse.
Adaoma
Great advice for men caught in domestic violence. For the victim of domestic violence I say get out while you can. There are safe houses and shelters that can help. Tell someone. Reach out. Perhaps, now Marvin is convinced that prostitution should not be legalized, but that attacking the customer base to destroy it will deplete the sex industry and begin to take women and girls out of danger and violence. For prostitution is Sweden, the "revolution" has come and it is destroying prostitution from the foundation up. No! I'm not for legalizing prostitution. I'm for destroying it, for its demise. Get on the side of women, Marvin. If you are part of the problem you are not a part of the solution. Thanks for the exchange.
Marvin X
Rehemah Bah suggests dialogue and conversation on this topic and others is sorely needed. In fact, I had started the Pan African Mental Health Peer Group Meetings Dr. Nathan Hare called for, but people refused to take authority to continue the sessions. But the meeting format is outlined in my book How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy. This present conversation began as a call to men, so far I have only heard from women. Will men please stand up and represent yourselves.
Adaoma, firstly, you have wanted to take me off my original point of men getting organized to satisfy their sexual and spiritual needs, just as same sex couples are doing at this hour. You enter the conversation with the notion that men have no right to organize themselves for what they deserve and need. This sounds like feminine arrogance or simple narrow mindedness. But I don't want our conversation to degenerate into name calling.
But to think that men are going to stop visiting women in a fare exchange that is mutual is totally ridiculous, since the sex trade exists in all societies I know about, whether Capitalist, Socialist, Communist, Christian, Muslim, traditional African.
And in reality, it is women who have forced men to run around in dark allies to have sex because they are not satisfied at home or with their wives or girlfriends. Or maybe they have greater needs than monogamy can fulfill, so they want multiple partners. So who in the hell are you to tell men what they can or cannot have. Your attitude is the very reason men go to the streets to escape your fascist terror of matriarchal domination.
As I said initially, in a world where two men or two women can do what they want, don't tell me a man and woman can't do the same, whether married or not. Now violence, rape, abuse are criminal problems, but it is obvious the actions of men or women who desire multiple partners, whether in marriage or prostitution is not going to end anytime soon.
My objective is to get shit in an organized manner. As I said, it is not even about sex, always, sometimes men want to be with a person to have a conversation. If they want to pay a woman to talk with, this is illegal as well, in your book?
My objective is for men and women to find ways of doing what they want in an organized manner, without killing each other, exploiting each other, or any kind of abuse. For you to suggest that any kind of interaction between men and women for money should be abolished is beyond common sense.
And in the case of the prostitute I loved, she came to live with me during the time I was producing One Day In the Life, the docudrama of my recovery from Crack addiction. Initially, she had no interest in recovery, even though she was living at my house that was home of Recovery Theatre. She listened to our rehearsals, then one day decided to begin her recovery from Crack. She successfully completed a drug program and found employment, reunited with her children and got married. I was happy for her even though I missed my "ho."
But then she began to suffer domestic violence, similar to the violence she suffered as a ho. So should she have remained a street ho, since her marriage treatment was no different than what she received from her tricks? Thus, I maintain violence against women is across the board and marital and/or partner violence is not to be separated from the violence and abuse in prostitution. Violence is violence. There is personal violence and mass violence as in war, but it is all the same, somebody gets hurt, wounded, killed, does it matter if it's a wife, girlfriend or sex worker? I don't think so.
This morning, on the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr., I want to bring to conclusion my argument for men to organize for their rights. I've tried to argue that if two women and two men can advocate for same-sex marriage rights, men should organize for their rights to enjoy the prostitute or sex worker, for we know fare exchange ain't no robbery. One thing the prostitute that I loved taught me was that she was here to give love to all who needed her love, that I could not be selfish with her, that I could not own here, but I could enjoy her when she was available. Once I understood that, we became the very best friends. In fact, she soon had three titles, "The Maid, the Ho, the Cook”. She came and went as she desired, and I stopped pressuring her to stay. Of course other women wanted to know how and why she had three titles. I asked them which title did they want? LOL
And so I was happy as a puppy dog when she came home to visit me. My point is that the prostitute is just as holy and sacred as the wife. She is just as necessary, for there are men who don't have a wife or girlfriend, thus the necessity of the prostitute; she fulfills a social function.
My old friend, Eldridge Cleaver, and I were on the road some years ago during the days of his Christian ministry. Since we worked seven days a week away from home, from his wife and my girlfriends (His wife Kathleen said to me, "Marvin the girls used to call here for you, but they don't call anymore,"--no woman wants a man working seven days a week), we wanted to visit some sex workers. As we entered the motel room with our dates, we saw a blind man being escorted up the stairs with a sex worker. Eldridge laughed at the blind man, but said that's why the prostitute is needed, even the blind man needs to have fun sometime.
And there are men who cannot talk to a woman, who don't know how to "rap," who don't have the gift of gab, so the prostitute is there for them. More than any other reason, the "Crack ho" served many men who couldn't talk to a woman, so with the "Crack ho" men only needed to drop the rock on the table and the party was on.
We have read that originally the prostitute was the priestess who served in the temple. She would serve the stranger when he came into town and for her services received a love offering that she would share with the priest and the temple god.
We see the sacred origins of the prostitute. She is just as necessary as the wife, of equal importance to society, except today she is totally disrespected, exploited and abused--but no less than the wife, for often her husband is a stranger and she is as well to her husband. They are together yet not together, actually they don't even know each other after years of marriage.
(See my poem You Don't Know Me).
The prostitute I loved did not have a pimp. She was her own woman, and she made it plain that I did not and could not own or control her--don't even think about it! She was a free spirit and so was I. She came to give love and so did I. What crime is this?
In conclusion, if society can make room for same sex marriage, it must recognize the prostitute as a necessary member of society. We honor Dr. King for his support of lowly garbage workers, but he said don't honor him, honor the garbage workers. So I say to you, honor the prostitute. I call upon men to organize society so she has a dignified place, minus exploitation, abuse, exposure to diseases and can earn a living wage.
Jesus did not condemn her, so why should you? Friends called the prostitute "My Somalian," since she had East African features. But she said, "I don't know where Somalia is, I'm black and Native American." I loved her and she loved me, what else does one need to know?
216 The Maid, The Ho’, The Cook
SHE STARTED COMING to serve me on a regular basis. Seems that she had quite a few regulars in the hood, so I joined the crowd for her love. She let me know that I could not own her, she was her own woman, that she was not out to hurt anyone, but to serve all willing to pay for her services, to give love to all. Because I could not have her totally for myself, I wanted her more - she was a hard nut to crack, if not impossible, but I continued to try.
She told me she was married to the guy I would see her with in the street, but they were estranged, except when he had money
to supply her habit, they would kick it together in a motel or abandoned house frequented by crack heads who had their designated rooms. One house was two doors down from me and it took me a long time to figure out why I could look out my window and see her every morning almost like clockwork.
I started calling her from my window and she would come up to serve me, if she wasn’t on a mission. If on a mission, she would wave me or shout that she’d be right back - of course I knew “be right back” meant I might see her the next day or the next week or whenever, after all, she was a free woman and more importantly, a crack head. She had to constantly drum this in my head because she started getting deeper into my life. We agreed she would awaken me every morning around ten or eleven to administer my morning medicine, start my day off with somethin’ proper.
Again, I started wondering how she was able to come by like clockwork, but she did - of course she wouldn’t tell me that she was right next door in the abandoned house, although she did let me know she had another trick around the corner on 34th and Market, where she would sometimes stay and where she had her many collections of clothing.
One day she came by in a desperate state, saying she and the guy on 34th were tripping, that he had put her clothes on the steps because he wanted to control her and she wasn’t going for it. Since she had peeped that I had a large one-bedroom apartment and lived by myself, she wanted to know if she could bring her things over and store them in my closet. Of course I agreed, being captain-save-a-hoe.
So she started coming by to changes clothes, to shower and to eat, and sometimes to sleep. Yes, she would come in exhausted from the street and lay beside me, sometimes sleep for a whole day or two or three. I would sometimes try to awaken her but I discovered that was the worst thing to do as she awakened in a very ugly mood. She told me never to bother her while she was sleeping, and please, please, don’t try to remove her clothing. I tried once and she went into a rage, explaining that she had been raped by one of her uncles while asleep, so she now slept with her clothes on out of fear. I let baby sleep. We immediately got along better.
When she would finally get up, she would sometimes clean and cook, as long as I stayed out of the kitchen or out of the area she was cleaning. She said I was a very, very messy man. Sometimes she would clean, leave, and return the next day to find the house again messed up. She claimed I messed it up on purpose - in her mind no human being could be that messy. There were, in fact, many people who agreed with her.
Her name was Lisa, but since I couldn’t call her my woman, since she belonged to no man but gave to all men, I referred to her as The Maid, The Ho’, The Cook. She didn’t really object to this multiple title, except to the “ho’” designation, she informed me she was a “prostitute,” and preferred to be recognized as such, as a professional who got paid for her services - and she was good. I fell in love with Lisa, but she let me know in a series of heated arguments that I could not control her, that she was no man’s woman, she had been through that with her husband and other men, she was and would remain free, and that we could remain friends if I respected her freedom, just let her be the maid, the ho’, the cook, but not my woman. I submitted and we got along much better. She recognized that I backed off trying to dominate her and congratulated me for my new-found civility. But she also stressed that I was the most macho man she’d ever met. I found that hard to believe, since who knows how many men she’d dated in her 34 years or however long she’d been a prostitute.
My friends agreed she was beautiful with her East African features - they started calling her my “Somalian,” but she claimed Native American heritage as well as African American. In a short time I became her co-dependent. Although I was in recovery, I had never experienced the pain of co-dependency. I had inflicted it on others, but had never suffered from the virus, so suddenly I realized why she was in my life - because I knew that I could not fully recover until I had experienced the co-dependent ritual that I’d inflicted on my woman, family and friends: the pain they felt at seeing me go through and take them through the process of addiction - loving someone while watching and even assisting their self-destruction.
As I did, she would often disappear for days. I worried about her, but figured she was with her husband or some other trick, even the rich white man she dated on a regular basis, even calling him from my house, which I detested, even barred her from using my phone for that purpose. I even offered her the same amount of money he was going to give her one night, but she refused my money. I figured his was greener.
One night she came in scared and bruised, with blood all over her clothing. Some trick had dragged her down the street in his car.
She claimed she didn’t know what was wrong with him, but it wasn’t the first time this had happened to her - in fact, it had happened many times. She said I couldn’t imagine some of the situations she’d been in with tricks and their psychopathology. I nursed Lisa back to health and she was gone again.
--From In the Crazy House Called America, Marvin X, BBP, 2002.
217 Negro Psychosocial Sexuality in the Post Crack Society
The idea of the Negro in the window actually happened during the height of the Crack era, during this time the negro and negress stood on the auction block of the crack house trading sexual favors for drugs. The most beautiful men and women stood butt naked before the dope man or woman. Husbands not only traded their wives but ultimately themselves. After offering his wife, one of my friends whispered that I could have him too. I was so shocked I pretended not to hear.
Before long the naked, raw display and behavior of the Crack auction became the new sexuality, AIDS included. Several of my friends died of drug/sex related AIDS. The nude display in the Crack House soon became the new norm in ghetto sexuality. Whoring reached new limits.
Actually, the Crack Ho put the prostitute out of business in the hood. How can a nigguh pimp a two dollar Crack Ho? Those men familiar with the crack ritual no longer bothered dating square women. The Crack Ho made the "chase" unnecessary. She was more accessible and reasonable than the square woman and the prostitute. No conversation was necessary, just drop the rock on the table and it was on. She performed all manner of tricks, surpassing any monkey in the zoo.
And now her sexual manners have infected hip hop culture. The video ho's reflect the Crack Ho's unabashed shamelessness and debauchery. Actually, the video ho is a Miller lite version of the Crack Ho. The video ho's origin is the Crack House because it was there that the negress performed for basically nothing, a crumb of crack. The video ho's also perform for nothing, for a chance to be seen. My daughter closed down her New York casting company because she became tired and disgusted sending her sisters out to be video ho's.
It is almost laughable to hear women speak of themselves as "Sisters of Integrity," in light of all I have seen and participated in during my sojourn as a Crack Head. But I do admit there are sisters of integrity still around, but I look at them with a jaundiced eye because I saw how quickly sisters of integrity sank to the depths of lechery after that first hit and I understand the same is now occurring with the drugs Ecstasy and Speed.
Where do we go from here? Hopefully towards a revolution in morals and manners. As Sun Ra taught me, life is really about discipline rather than freedom. If we think we can get away with any and everything, we will do it. Elders like myself who think we can get out of our responsibility toward children and youth will be forced to contradict ourselves and reach out to the generation without fathers or mothers, to the children who've had to raise themselves because of the pervasive drug culture and socioeconomics, including the criminal justice system.
We must return to the old days of every child is my child, my responsibility to mentor, guide and direct. We cannot abuse them sexually or otherwise, if we do, they shall curse us and continue the pattern of disrespect so apparent in the dope culture where they call us punk bitch men and women for being gullible old fools rather than the wise men and women our children need so badly as they search for light in dark world. --Marvin X
218 Pay da Ho ta Go
Now some of you trick ass nigguhs, like myself, get with a ho and fall in love, want her to stay, spend the night, next day, next week, year. But the real deal hollyfield is pay da ho to go!
If you want a wife, girlfriend, partner, then you pay da ho to stay. Pay yo pussy bill. Ain’t no free pussy. You hear them silly nigguhs say they get free pussy, they don’t pay for no pussy? Them some real trick ass nigguhs—they don’t even know they a trick. That’s why Elijah had to trick the trick out the trick—because he too dumb and too in denial to know he’s a trick. Anyway, who want some free pussy? Even freedom ain’t free!
But why have permanent pussy when it’s cheaper if you don’t keep her! Tiger Wood’s daddy tried to tell his son don’t get married. In reality, the best possibility is the time share. I hate to tell you square ass nigguhs this, but the time share is all you get whether you pay da ho to stay or go!
You may think yl
Qwaou got a wife but when she calls 911 on yo ass, you see who she’s really married to, the white man!
You see who’s her man, boyfriend, lover. You only a trick for a night or thirty years, but a trick none the less. When 911 comes you got to go, buddy, don’t care if it is your house, you got to go. Pack yo toothbrush, drawers and get on up the road.
The real man with the gun in hand has arrived, and he will kill yo motherfuckin ass for his girl! So much for your pussy bill, so much for your papers, you got to go. And hurry up! Your rent to own plan is over, yes, your time share.
Now you can stand around, as Eldridge used to say, with yo dick in yo hand and yo heart racing, but the show is over. Get over it!
And when the ho goes, let her be gone, and don’t think she’s coming back, even if she tells you, “I’ll be right back, don’t let nobody in, I’ll be right back!” If you go for this, you are a real sick little puppy—somebody will sell you the Brooklyn bridge shortly. Pay da ho to go.
She served you proper, let her go. She sucked you and fucked you, so let her go. It was all an illusion. Ain’t no love lost. No romance, no sincere loving touch. It was a fuck, pure and simple. Enjoy the moment. You were a trick and you got your treat. It was Halloween, nigguh.
Treat her right, give her a tip, if she had zest! And if she don’t have zest, pay da ho to go before you even get inside the pussy. She gotta have zest, you know, like that soap!
219 Poetically Gay
photo by Ted Pontiflet
Poetically Gay
If we were against gay and lesbian poets, there would be little poetry to read, since the arts seem to be the home of many gay people. Imagine a world without Langston Hughes or James Baldwin, or Audre Lorde and June Jordan. So my attitude is what does sex have to do with being a poet—nothing! A poet must understand human sexuality in general. A poet stuck on being gay is not a poet, for what happens when he or she must put on the persona of a man or woman, or a tree for that matter. A poet must transcend all sexuality in order to understand the universal human spirit that is, yes, beyond a particular sexual orientation. Gays and lesbians might sometimes have a more sensitive spirit, but every poet, whether gay or straight, must have a sensitive spirit.
Did Baldwin write as a gay or as a writer of the human condition? After my 1968 interview with him, I remarked to Ed Bullins, “He talked like a man.” Ed said, “He damn sho did.” Alas, Baldwin wrote the script for Spike Lee’s film Malcolm X. If he had been trapped in his gayness, how could he have written a script about a hero who symbolized black manhood? When people questioned whether he was qualified to write the script because of his gayness, Baldwin said, “Hey, I pay my rent, I write what I want to write.”
In the video version of my play One Day In The Life, a gay actor portrays my son. If he had not transcended his gayness, he wouldn’t have been in my play. So he was in my play because he was a great actor. At the audition for my play in New York, a gay brother tried out for the part but couldn’t transcend his sexuality. My daughter was casting director, and when I told her to let the guy read the part again, she said, “No, Daddy, no. Let me handle this. He got to go!”
So we have no time to condemn people for their sexual orientation. We might thereby condemn the goose laying the golden egg. We could use another Baldwin or Langston right about now to help free us from this precipice.
But I say to those who passed legislation permitting sex between consenting adults, and in California one of them was then Assemblyman Willie L. Brown, if gays can be with gays and lesbians with lesbians, then men who love prostitutes should be allowed to be with their sex workers in peace, not sneaking around in the alley like a broke dick dog, arrested and cars seized. Yes, legalize prostitution. Lakum dinu kum waliya din: to you your way and to me mine.
220 The Prince of Peace
and James Baldwin
It was a cold December, 1968, when I entered the New York apartment of James Baldwin to conduct an interview for Black Theatre magazine, a publication of the New Lafayette Theatre. Baldwin welcomed me into his frigid apartment. I was honored and humbled to be in his presence. He was my literary hero, one of the first black authors I'd discovered in high school. Although disappointed with the subject matter of Giovanni's Room, I was fascinated with the style and content of his essays Notes of a Native Son and Nobody Knows My Name. Playwright Ed Bullins was supposed to conduct the interview with me, but he would arrive late when we were almost finished. Baldwin was a small man, and I was probably not much bigger at the time, around 150 pounds. And I didn't find him particularly handsome then, although I recently attended an exhibit at the Joyce Gordon Gallery in Oakland featuring the work of painter/photographer Ted Pontiflet whose subject was Baldwin. When Ted juxtaposed African sculptor with James Baldwin, I saw the beauty of his African features. To call him ugly only reflected my addiction to white supremacy aesthetics. I turned on the tape recorder and we began. He lashed out at America for calling itself a Christian nation while killing in Vietnam. "How dare they talk about the Prince of Peace while they bomb the hell out of Vietnam." And he said our condition proves Americans don't believe in Christianity. "We're the only thing that happened here--nothing else happened!" He said it was a miracle for a black father to raise a son in this society. "It's a wonder we all haven't gone stark raving mad." Well, Jimmy, forty years later, I must report to you that black people have indeed gone stark raving mad. Our addiction to white supremacy is full blown. The irony and supreme tragedy is that if black people detoxed from conspicuous consumption, white power would fall within the week. If we boycotted the stores, shops and malls, the American economy would crumble worse than when 9/11 hit, worse than the present financial depression caused by the sum-prime scam. We talked about our mutual hero Richard Wright, the foremost black writer at the time. Richard had gone into exile from America to escape the racism, and Baldwin had done the same, but Baldwin came home, Wright died mysteriously in Paris. Many suspected the USA assassinated Wright for his radical political views. But Baldwin thought Wright had remained in exile too long and lost his roots. Of course, Baldwin had to dispose of Wright so he could claim the literary crown, although one can lose ones bearing in exile, like a fish out of water. The worse thing in the world is to be cut off from ones people, culture, and most especially, their day to day struggle for liberation. Baldwin came home to join the civil rights struggle, Wright never did. The gossip in Harlem was about Baldwin writing the film script for the autobiography of Malcolm X. Some people questioned his qualifications because he was gay. He retorted angrily when I asked him about this, "I pay my rent, I write what I want." Eventually, Spike Lee used Baldwin's script for his Malcolm X film. And so here we are again, much like that December, 1968, in wars across the planet, Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia (by proxy) and elsewhere. Baldwin said, "The murder of my child will not make your child safe." And so it is, America is oblivious to the war in the ghettos of this nation, the homicide and suicide due to economic strangulation. Until she addresses the war at home, the killing abroad will bleed her with a slow death until she, indeed, goes stark raving mad.
Marvin X, Harlem,1968
(photo Doug Harris)
221 Parable of Purple
In Oakland, we grew up playing the dozens, rapping about another brother's mother, trying to "cap" or best the brother in desecrating our sacred Mother Goddess. The winner said the most hurtful things, and yes, the contest often ended with a fight because the loser felt ashamed and humiliated. The hip hop generation has upped the game.
On a recent Monday night, half a block from Academy of Da Corner at 14th and Broadway, downtown Oakland, two young men had a rap contest on the street while a large crowd listened attentively. When Craig, aka Purple, won the contest, the loser, Mike, felt humiliated and ashamed, especially because Purple had rapped about catching Mike in a homosexual encounter. Amiri Baraka's 60s play The Toilet dealt with a similar encounter.
According to reports, Mike fired off two rounds into the ground and urged Purple to shut up, but Purple persisted, claiming he had the power of the Logos. He continued slamming Mike with crowd approval. Mike aimed his gun at Purple's chest and fired twice. "Told you to shut up, nigguh. Told you to shut up!"
Purple stumbled into De Lauer's bookstore next door and fell dead. There must be some significance to his dying in a bookstore, a place of light in a world of darkness. Such is life: sometimes we win only to lose.--Marvin X 9/11/10
222 Gay Marriage and Black Liberation
No matter what we think about gay marriage, gays and lesbians have shown the world that they are prepared to take authority over their lives, and their boldness to exert their human rights should be cause for African Americans to reflect on their desires for freedom, justice and equality. For sure, no struggle, no progress, and finally, one must take what we feel is ours. If we feel reparations are due, then we should simply subtract a reparations deduction from all taxation presented to us by the US government, state and local authorities, and prepare to suffer whatever the consequences are for standing up like men and women and demanding our just dues in the name of our ancestors who were literally crucified to build this nation.
Yes, just as the gays and lesbians are doing, we must take authority over our lives and right to be compensated for four centuries of free labor. Even though I don't particularly agree with them, I applaud them for standing up for their human rights, and if African Americans don't take note and follow suit in taking authority over our community, no matter what the issues, then we are less than "punks" and should be treated as such, yes, we need to be fucked without vasoline!
How can we condemn their lifestyle when ours is one of passivity, survility and a total negation of our humanity. No matter what their cause, what their beliefs, at least they are standing tall like bold men and women, like human beings to assert their beliefs on pain of death, and what is death for a cause, it is the sweet juice of martyrdom, even though their cause has not hardly reached this point, but who knows where this is going.
Gays and Lesbians have challenged the socalled basic foundation of Western Civilization, the family strucuture, the building block of all mythology, cultural mores and social interaction. On one level this is good, this is revolutionary and if Western society's myths must be challenged, why not now, and for certain this is merely the beginning because there are other marriage and family configurations that must be recognized and legitimized, specifically, polygamy. Christians have mistresses, Muslims have wives, Mormans have wives, nigguhs have girlfriends and baby's mamas, but the truth is that these de facto marriages should be recognized because they involve not only the male and females partners, but extended family members who are part and parcel of such relationships, especially and most importantly, the children, who try to make sense out of this oftentimes chaotic family configuration. We must get to some sanity in all of this. I was especially happy to understand that I was indeed interlocked with multiple families with my polygamous escapades. And ultimately, this was a beautiful thing because it taught me how to be diplomatic and civil, rather than acting outright savage as I was want to do in my days of ignorance.
But in the case of children, we cannot ignore their reality and their desire to understand what the hell we adults have configured and why. In the case of gays and lesbians, I will let them deal with their family configurations, but for those of us involved in other marital arrangements, what can we say to our children, except to let them know we attempted legitimate relationships that were simply a failure partly because of our presence in Western civilization that was anathema to our lifestyle, just as it is opposing the gay and lesbian lifestyle.
But no matter what, there are children born of a myriad family configurations, whether polygamy, polyandry, multiple husbands and wives, etc. We must let them know they are legitimate as opposed to the traditional label of "illegitimate," as if they have done anything but be born at the whims of our romantic escapades.
African Americans come from an African tradition of multiple wives, sometimes multiple husbands, but we want to deny our Africanity for Western bullshit and claim we are part and parcel of said bullshit, especially on the part of women, Christianized and especially the Western educated, yet, their lives have been impacted with African style family configurations, but they are in denial and persist in claiming monogamy as the absolute cultural pattern when their lives are a direct contradiction to this formation, alas, many of them have children by multiple men and the men have children by multiple women. Revolutionaries and radicals are no exception, including relationships that are the product of interracial marriages, with children suffering the trauma of said interracial relationships.
In the final analysis, there are few pure families in America, for most have tasted the seed of racial integration, so we need to come to a healing reality that will conclude this racial drama once and for all. The City of Seattle, Washington is a beautiful example of the new racial paradigm: one will see white men and women, old and young, walking with black babies, and one will see black men and women, old and young, walking with white babies or babies the product of interracial sexual interaction.
So let us come to the ultimate conclusion that few want to go with me: marry a tree.
