An Open Letter about Systemic Racism

My Friends,

My time to be silent has passed. I am overwhelmed by the lack of compassionate response to the senseless murders in Charleston that deny the severity of this heinous attack. I am further saddened by these individuals and institutions that deny the racist motivation behind this murder. Hypothetically, a person of color walking into a white church and executing peaceful members of a Christian congregation would be labeled justly: a terrorist. For some reason, the terrorist in Charleston gets a free pass by those people that want to protect this terrorist from any racial implications (I’m assuming due to his white skin). "He’s mentally ill, he’s unbalanced" – people are falling over themselves to explain away this murderer’s overtly racist motivations. WHY?

In the meantime, while the US flag and South Carolina state flag were lowered in deference for the victims of this tragedy, the Confederate flag remained at full mast over the state capitol. The same symbol that the terrorist used as a personal signifier in his every day life remained defiantly in the sky, supported by legislation to exist and immutable to a national outcry for justice and sympathy.

These same people that refuse to acknowledge the racist motivation of this shooting now champion the Confederate battle flag as a symbol of Southern heritage. They paint this flag as “not racist” – you have seen these blog posts and articles that wish to reconstruct the history of the Confederate flag as we know it into a commodified, digestible narrative about Southern heritage and pride. They support the Confederate flag as a state-sanctioned symbol flying over public property and land.

Oppressive and racist symbols have a history of being removed from society and placed where they belong: in museums and history books. In my formal education, I was required to watch Birth of A Nation – an important film in terms of technique and storytelling, but ideologically despicable. It was deemed “historically significant” and preserved, but I would never encourage someone to watch this film without a lesson in its significance. The film is difficult to watch and needs proper education to process – in the wrong hands, it supports dangerous myths about African Americans and elevates the Ku Klux Klan as the hero of the story and the saviors of the Old South.

Symbols are emotionally charged. The swastika means so many different things to us – it is a symbol that signifies evil, tyranny, oppression, and murder. People that wear, champion, or brandish a swastika are shunned; the swastika is rightfully taboo. We have much to learn about the evolution of racism in the United States, and to forget about the Confederate flag as a significant historical symbol would be unproductive (those that forget history are doomed to repeat it); that being said, the Confederate flag is a pervasive reminder of a permanent and divisive scar of racial oppression in our history books, and a scar that divides PEOPLE by skin color in our country to this day – “Us” from “Other.”  It is a scar that continues to manifests itself as a system of privilege.

SYSTEMIC RACISM is what I’m referring to – if you have never been confronted with it, chances are you have benefited from its victims.  If you can deny the existence of such a system – Congratulations! You are living in a social ecosystem that encourages blindness to your privileged status. Your privilege is your birthright and uncomfortable to examine and digest (let alone deconstruct, question, and change) so why bother? Right?

Systemic racism is both subtle and overt. Even in its overtness, it can be manipulated, reimagined, and explained away (“This isn’t a calculated, racist execution of peaceful Christians, it is the deranged actions of a crazy lunatic”). In its subtleties, you will notice that there is a majority of Americans represented by like-skinned people in their local, state, and federal governments; this majority has entertainment, advertising, children’s toys, etc. catering to it, in which people with matching skin color are depicted living life, enjoying products, and unremarkably existing – their presence is never called into question or treated as niche, the presence of their bodies is not a political statement. This majority (and its children) is rarely in an environment where it is made to feel “Other” or where it has to navigate and edit its identity – it can retreat to comfortable physical, economic, and spiritual spaces. This majority has access to a social system that caters to it based on skin color – its members do not typically (or historically) worry about being unlawfully stopped, harassed, detained, falsely imprisoned, or put to death without a trial by the police; being denied a loan, education, or job due to quotas; or fear for the justice of its people when they are slaughtered out of prejudice and hate.

To the supporters of the Confederate flag, I have this to say: if the possibility of the removal of the Confederate flag has placed you in a position where you FINALLY have to confront your privileged status in our country (and the rest of the free world) – refraining from brushing your shoulders off is the least you could do. Nobody other than like-minded, uncompassionate, and privileged individuals (read: PREJUDICED WHITES) are bothered by your plight. This disregard for your thoughts/arguments on what the Confederate flag “means to you” is probably something you’re not used to experiencing. Before you go so far as to claim that this disregard is “reverse racism,” let’s remember that you are not experiencing institutionalized oppression – just basic, everyday boredom with your petulant moaning about being held accountable for promoting racist symbols and ideology.

My hope is that this letter could lead to a thoughtful discussion on the many facets of racism that exist today and to confront my/our privilege and how we benefit and contribute to it systematically. As a Southerner, I have an almost compulsive urge to remain unoffensive despite being surrounded by hate and offensive rhetoric against people that have very little voice for themselves. Hopefully, that urge ends today -- in terms of dismantling systemic racism, we have a long way to go.

A for Effort?

It's been almost a year since my last post: what's strange is that it feels like a couple of weeks ago. Time is creeping up on me. I also just realized I had been writing a quick little blog out of frustration and never posted it--somewhat of a rant, but I amused myself a year later so I'm gonna go ahead and post it.

"A for EFFORT"

This little phrase is problematic for me. Who spells "effort" with an A?

If anyone has every actually tried to perform this grammatical impossibility, I'm pretty sure it was someone from my generation. And let's be honest, it's mostly because our parents, teachers, and even Michael Jackson has told us it's okay---

You can do whatever you want to do, be whatever you wanna be. Go ahead, spell effort with an A; you make the rules that you live by. Let's just forget that social status, connections, and myriad other reasons actually influence the life that we "make" for ourselves.

News flash: you can't do whatever you want. You've been lied to. The end.

Transformers 2: Revenge of the Studio Execs

Ok, I didn't realize that the biggest piece of Hollywood trash I've seen in a long time would have so many passionate opinions attached to them. I get it, I work in the movie industry, so I'm an easy target to be labeled as a "movie snob." I'm not, and here's why.

1) Transformers 1 was okay. It was pretty well executed and was a good idea. It came at the right time when the trend for blockbusters was to revamp and revisit older childhood franchises from the 80s and 90s. Michael Bay had a lot of potential for the follow up movie.

2) THIS MOVIE HAD SO MUCH MONEY ATTACHED TO IT. Explain this to me: why would you spend sooo much money on a movie that was poorly written, poorly cast, and poorly acted? There was nothing actually cinematic about this film. It's Hollywood garbage. The production value was so high to have so much bad acting, bad writing, and bad concepts in ONE movie, especially when the first movie was more solid.

3) Every shot is simply for spectacle. The visual effects, special effects, sound design, and even the color palette are so amazing, yet they couldn't pull it all together to produce a quality film. That's upsetting to me, and probably to many of the other people who spent their hard earned money to watch a bad movie.

4) The difference between a really good action movie and a really bad action movie is whether or not the movie relies solely on action. Take J.J. Abrams newest version of Star Trek or the Lord of the Rings trilogy: the visuals actually serve a purpose of furthering the story. They're not simply there for cheap laughs or visual spectacle. It's embarrassing that my generation, the MTV generation, the most media literate generation that has EVER existed, cannot see that this movie used them for their $10 bucks a pop that they gave willingly to watch absolute bullshit.

5) Movies are a collaborative process. When a movie relies solely on one aspect of filmmaking, the final project suffers. In this case, Transformers relied solely on visual effects created in post-production to carry the film. They forgot about the other fine arts that go into making a timeless film. In ten years, our kids will find this shit completely dated because Bay didn't take the time to focus on the aspects of filmmaking that make a film timeless. Hitchcock's films may have terrible visual effects (see Psycho for a reference) but they're still scary as crap because they use cinematic techniques to create suspense, tell the story, and engage the viewer. Our kids will just laugh at Transformers in a couple of years like we laugh at the old Star Trek or Star Wars movies.

6) Check out the movie poster. The tagline says "More alien robots, bigger explosions, and much more Megan Fox." These execs know exactly what people wanted out of this movie, and they insulted you by giving you only that. No quality movie, just effects, explosions, and sexy bitches. You're welcome folks. We will continue to view sub-par films at the movie theaters until we tell the studio executives, the decision makers, that we're tired of it; and by "tell them" I mean telling them with our wallets, by financially supporting quality filmmaking. Why do you think Tyler Perry movies still get made? Because his fanbase supports terrible filmmaking. Personally, I'd rather support talent than cheese.

In conclusion, I walked out of the theater about an hour into this movie. I went and saw Year One. My head hurt, and my pocket hurt even more.

Call me a movie snob all you want, but I have standards. If you enjoyed the movie, that's cool. Maybe you're just a die-hard Transformers fan. I get that, I really do. But if you want some really good movie suggestions that won't rot your brain out, give me a call.

Everything I'm not made me everything I am.

It's a weird thought that the things that don't define you actually are the things that ultimately make you the person you are.

I'm not wealthy: I think most people would be crazy if they didn't want to have everything they could ever desire. However, I've had to work for absolutely everything I have now, and am content with a lot less than the norm.

I'm not non-judgmental: it's made me more humble when I've been wrong.

I'm not cautious with my words: it's taught me to think more about what I say.

I'm not incredibly open with my feelings: it's forced me to communicate better.

I'm not musically diverse: it's made me extremely specialized and well equipped to handle my urban clients and my work in the hip hop market.

I'm not overly competitive: it's saved me from a lot of disappointment from perceived failure.

I'm not perfect: it's made me rely on God, family, and friends.

I'm not a sell-out: it's helped me persevere through tough choices, difficult people, and life changes.

I'm not a kind, wise, or brave person: I've had to pray for all of these things, and it's made me realize just how much I'm not really the focus of this life, how it's not all about me, and how much I fall short from the type of person I would like to be.

I'm happy with how I've grown up and how I'm continuing to (hopefully) evolve, and I expect to keep learning more about myself. I'm finally feeling comfortable in my own skin, and I like it.

People are seasons.

Something quite simple has been on my mind the past couple of weeks and I don't really know what to do with it.

I hate that the people I love come and go in my life without any rhyme or reason, without prediction, without always leaving an imprint.

I've gone through knowing so many different people in my life that filled a need at one point in time that I don't really speak to anymore, people that are not physically present but always on my mind, and those that are ever-present that make life worth living.

In the past year I've lost friends that maybe didn't need to be in my life, that turned their back on me when I decided to make positive changes in my life--changes that made me a better person today. Professional, intimate, and almost family-like relationships that I don't really forsee being mended.

On the other hand, others have been brought into my life that have nurtured growth, provided kindness and overwhelming love that filled those old voids.

Then there's those that are always a phone call away, whether that's once a week or once every seven months. It's comforting to know that they're there.

Some are gone completely that I won't be able to see again--not in this lifetime at least. I miss them. I can't explain how much I've wanted to talk to my grandfather in past couple of years, to hang out with Lacie and Tommy, or to fist-bump James.

I feel comfort in knowing that while some may be gone, they're never forgotten, and maybe they taught me something along the way.

And to the ones that have stuck around--well, you should know that you're appreciated and I'll do anything I can for you.

The cycle of hurt, hanging out, family and friends, healing and growth, is so strange and baffling. It's difficult to see how people have affected you along the way. If you wanna know how you've affected me, you should probably ask. I'd love to tell you.

So maybe I don't hate not being able to predict who's going to be in my life at any particular time. Because people always show up when they're needed, and a new season begins.

I don't think I could rock an eye patch.

So, there are times in my life where I have done all the right things and still gotten hosed.

Tonight could have been one of those times.

I was sitting outside my house with my roommates and saw that Scott had a new tattoo. It was an anchor.

I asked him what it meant, he made me promise not to make fun of him.

While his story was a little corny, I bit my tongue and said, "Oh.... that's nice."

I turn around to look at my cats standing in front of the screen door and turn back towards Scott only to find a cigarette in my eye.

Almost burned it completely, but somehow I walked away without a burn on me. My eye was still intact.

It was an accident, but I almost lost an eye tonight--for keeping my word.

Isn't it funny how that works out sometimes? Just further proof that accidents happen that can change your life instantly. Glad mine didn't change too much because of a stupid joke and bad luck. I forgive you Scott... just don't get too close.

By the way, rent is $100 more this month.

I once sat on a mountain top.

There's a line from a Jay-Z song that I really like, and it goes:

They say a midget sitting on a giant's shoulder can see much further than a giant/That's why I got the whole rap world on my shoulder trying to see much further than I am

This line has always appealed to me. There's something about thinking that you have so much insight into the world that everyone else is always trying to piggy back onto you-- it's extremely flattering. Why shouldn't it be? I'm beginning to realize that I probably do not fall into this category, no matter how much I want it to be true.

I fight daily for stability, for insight, for knowledge and wisdom. I don't like feeling like I don't know something. It doesn't excite me. I like being comfortable. I want to be a giant.

I may never reach this kind of understanding of the world. I think God will keep me from it until I'm wise enough to handle the power.

It's still something I strive for.

I realized how small I was a week or so ago. I hiked up Stone Mountain with Aida at sunset. It was probably the most spontaneous thing I've done in a while. I really enjoyed the fresh air, the aerobic burn, the light, and the perspective it gave me.

After we raced the last couple hundred yards up the mountain, we both laid down at the top. I was astounded at the silence and yet the palpable rumble from the world around me. I could actually feel how small I was in the universe. It was like I was looking at myself from space. I felt so insignificant.

While it wasn't the first time I have felt like this, it definitely was the first time in a long time. And after being through everything since the beginning of the year, I felt relief. I forget that no matter how good or bad my life may actually be, I really don't matter in the greater existence of time, space, the universe---love, hate, war, peace... This world keeps turning, keeps rumbling, unaware of me. God keeps me going and takes care of me, and that's who I need to be focused on. I guess it's hard not to think about God when you're that far removed from the rest of the world.

And that realization felt really good. I don't have to figure anything out. Wow. I realize now that I've been limiting myself by trying to know what my future has in store for me. I set boundaries for myself that way. I want to live with no boundaries, with nothing holding me down. I don't wanna sit on a giant's shoulder, or even be the giant. Shit, I don't even know if this analogy really even makes sense anymore. It probably doesn't. As corny as it sounds, trying to be the giant, or the midget, or whoever, is still putting myself and my life in a box, and I can do better than that by just living life and letting it work out the way God wants it to. Scary, but intriguing.

I remember that Aida and I talked about whether or not we'd live on the mountain if we were homeless. We thought it'd be a good idea until it got really cold really quickly. I realized that being on top of the world, above the world, apart from the world, wasn't really ideal. So I decided to come back down and live my life. It felt very strange walking back down, like I was giving up on an ideal that I thought I wanted but realized I wasn't ready for. It was relieving to walk back down to the familiar and normal.

Maybe I sound like I'm reading waaaayyy too much into a walk up Stone Mountain. But it was a strange experience. It was a wonderful experience. I wasn't really planning on having such a profound hike. But I did, and I can now say I once sat on a mountain top, and realized that's not where I really belong.