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Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Being A Bridge

I’ve had enough
I’m sick of seeing and touching
Both sides of things
Sick of being the damn bridge for everybody

Nobody
Can talk to anybody
Without me
Right?

I explain my mother to my father
my father to my little sister
My little sister to my brother
my brother to the white feminists
The white feminists to the Black church folks
the Black church folks to the ex-hippies
the ex-hippies to the Black separatists
the Black separatists to the artists
the artists to my friends’ parents…

Then
I’ve got to explain myself
To everybody

I do more translating
Than the Gawdamn U.N.

Forget it
I’m sick of it.

I’m sick of filling in your gaps

Sick of being your insurance against
the isolation of your self-imposed limitations

Sick of being the crazy at your holiday dinners

Sick of being the odd one at your Sunday Brunches

Sick of being the sole Black friend to 34 individual white people

Find another connection to the rest of the world
Find something else to make you legitimate
Find some other way to be political and hip

I will not be the bridge to your womanhood
Your manhood
Your humanness

I’m sick of reminding you not to
Close off too tight for too long

I’m sick of mediating with your worst self
On behalf of your better selves

I am sick
Of having to remind you
To breathe
Before you suffocate
Your own fool self

Forget it
Stretch or drown
Evolve or die

The bridge I must be
Is the bridge to my own power
I must translate
My own fears
Mediate
My own weaknesses

I must be the bridge to nowhere
But my true self
And then
I will be useful


by Donna Kate Rushin

Friday, October 24, 2008

Make it believable – Blame it on a black man

The hot news today is the story of Ashley Todd. This 20-year old woman claimed on Wednesday to have been mugged by a black man at an ATM in Pittsburgh. The story made national headlines because Ms. Todd, who is white, gave a detailed description (6'4" black man, black shirt, jeans and black sneakers) of the man who mugged her and, after the mugger spied a McCain bumper sticker on her car, returned to hold her down and carved a B for Barack Obama on her cheek. The story was accompanied by photos of Ms. Todd with black eyes and a clearly visible B on her cheek. When I first heard the story and read the discussions about it, my skeptic alarm bell went off big time. First, being a Pittsburgh native, I wondered about what she described as "a bad part of Pittsburgh." Bloomfield is a mostly white, working class neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Nobody would describe Bloomfield as a "bad part" of the city. Secondly, I wondered why the B on Ms. Todd's cheek was written backwards. It is unnatural, and very awkward to write backwards. I wondered why a mugger who had just committed a crime would return to his victim, hold her down and take the time to not only carve a letter on her face, but to take the additional time required to carve the letter backwards. Pittsburgh police considered the story suspicious from its onset. Today, Ms. Todd's story was revealed to be a complete fabrication. There was no mugging. There was no sexual assault. She evidently carved the B onto her own cheek (obviously using a mirror). Most importantly, THERE WAS NO 6'4" BLACK MAN.


This is just the latest evidence of what seems to be an inbred reality in the hearts of many in the United States. If a white person really wants their story to be believed, blame it on a black man. We all know that evidence of this abounds in our culture, not only in recent history, but in the entire history of black people in this country. Perhaps the most infamous incident in recent history was the story of Susan Smith. Ms. Smith fabricated a story of being car-jacked by a black man who subsequently kidnapped her two children. Most black people who heard the story doubted it from jump. We know the drill. Sadly, we were correct in our skepticism and it was later revealed that there was no black man. Ms. Smith sent her car with her two small sons into a lake in a warped belief that without her children she would be able to resurrect a relationship with the son of the rich man in town. Then there was the story of Charles Stuart. Stuart was a white man in Boston. He claimed he and his nearly nine months pregnant wife were carjacked by, what else, a black man. This black man shot Stuart and his wife. Stuart survived. The baby was delivered successfully but died a week later. Mrs. Stuart died the first night. The city of Boston was outraged. Boston police went on the rampage, determined to find and arrest the black man who had committed such an horrendous crime. The black community was harassed non-stop. Black men of every age were accosted by the police. Police eventually arrested and coerced a confession from a young black man. Of course, the end of the story was there was no black man. Charles Stuart didn't want a child. He shot his wife and himself. He murdered his wife and caused the death of his son. Being the coward he surely was, Stuart committed suicide by jumping into Boston Harbor.


Going back a little further, there is the infamous story of Rosewood, Florida upon which the movie Rosewood was based. In 1923, a black man supposedly raped a white woman. The strong, prosperous and self-sufficient town of Rosewood was destroyed by avenging white men. "Official" reports claim that only something like eight people died. "Unofficial" reports report scores of black people were murdered. Of course, there was no black man. The story was invented by a promiscuous wife who feared her husband's reprisal. I suspect if there had been such a thing as a witness sketch of the suspected black man back in 1923, he would be an identical twin of the black man in the Stuart, Smith and Todd sketches.


As I discussed this latest hoax of the criminal black man with my younger son today, he reminded me of the incident that happened several years ago in San Antonio. The story broke on the evening news that a white woman had been kidnapped from the parking lot of an Albertson's. She was then taken to a wooded area (coincidentally not far from my home at the time), doused with gasoline and set afire. Someone noticed the fire and called police. With her dying breath, the woman described the black man who had committed this horrendous crime. She died a few hours later at the hospital. We all know the ending of the story, but I will relate it here anyway. The woman was about to be arrested for embezzlement from her employer. There was a videotape of her purchasing the gas can from WalMart. There was video of her filling the gas can at a Diamond Shramrock gas station. There was no abduction. THERE WAS NO BLACK MAN. The woman set herself on fire. Her dying words were a lie! I remembered at the time thinking that even as this woman lay dying, her last words were a lie about a black man.


As a black woman living in the United States, I ceased being surprised a long time ago by stories like Ms. Todd's, Mr. Stuart's or the woman in San Antonio. Despite all that black people have contributed to this country, in many corners of it black men are considered natural suspects, men who are not to be trusted, men whose greatest wish is to ravish a white woman, men who, when encountered on the street, should be feared. As a mother of two black sons and as a grandmother of a black nine-year old grandson, it saddens me to realize, to accept, that no matter what education they attain, no matter what success they may achieve, they will always remain the proverbial suspect by many. Mr. Stuart and the woman in San Antonio were middle-age people. Perhaps some might conclude that they had "old school," racist thinking. Ms. Smith and Ms. Todd, however, were women in their twenties. The message is clearly that this racist thinking and conniving is not limited to the older generation. There are two sides to this coin. First, there are those who continue to perpetrate the lie of the criminal black man. The other side of the coin is that, even in 2008, many people automatically believe the story about the black man who committed a crime to be the truth. What does this foretell for the future of my sons, my grandson and all the other black men in this country"? Government statistics show that most crime is intra-racial, that is the victim and the criminal are the same race. Nonetheless, stories about the black man who committed a crime must be disproved, rather than proved.


I wonder even if Barack Obama is elected president if this will change. The specter of the criminal black man will remain – and be believable.


Blessings,
T

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Life’s Changes and Challenges

There are two things I rarely blog about: politics and with the exception of my father's passing, my personal life. I don't blog about politics because passionate as I am about it, my passion is just that, MY passion and my opinions, and you know what they say about opinions. I don't blog about my personal life because I am an intensely private person and being a true Cancer, keep my innermost thoughts and feelings close to my chest (the crab is NEVER without its shell). Today, though, I found myself thinking on a really deep level about the changes and challenges of life and the reasons and meanings behind them and decided to blog about some of what I've been thinking today. There are so many trite, but true, sayings about life: It is what it is. Nobody ever said life was fair. Nobody's getting out of here alive. Life is short, make the best of it. We've all heard them all. The one that kept popping up in my head today was that people come into our lives for a reason or a season. Sometimes, it's difficult to decide the reason or the length of the season.

During the now two years since my last chick has flown the coop, I've been attempting to discover – and become – who I am to be for this next phase of the journey called life. It's hard to do the latter without successfully determining the former. I am so fiercely proud of my two sons. They are both intelligent and good human beings. If I leave this earth tomorrow, I will know that I've done something right – raising them to be the men they are today. The role of mother is many-faceted and now that my sons are grown, I've moved into a different type of mother role. I'll be honest and say that it's left a big hole in me; being a mother was such a large part of who I am. I am living alone for the first time in 28 years and I'll be honest and say I hate it. Yes, my days are my own. I don't have to cook if I don't want to and if I wish, I can say up all night watching movies or t.v. When I lock the door at night, I know I won't be awakened by my child coming in. But, this freedom isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'm attempting to forge a new life – and a new career – for myself but it's not always been easy. I even found myself suggesting to my now 22-year old son that he's welcome to move in with me next month when his brother gets married and he gets his own apartment. He thanked me but told me he's always wanted to have his own place and is looking forward to it. C'est la vie, I guess.

Sometimes, though, I wonder about the people who have passed through my life. I wonder if I got the lesson, if I learned what I was supposed to learn from them or vice versa. I don't believe in coincidences. I truly believe things happen for a reason and that people come into our lives for a reason. There's another truism that if we don't learn the lesson, we are doomed to repeat it. As I sat in a park this afternoon, I pondered that one for a long time. Are the patterns I've experienced in my life because I've not learned the lessons that were there for me to learn? Will there always be lessons, challenges? I suspect the answer is yes to both questions. When we face a challenge, we have two and only two possible responses to the challenge. We can accept and be open to the lesson, or, we can resist an opportunity to grow.

Today I am cancelling mess!
Getting rid of confusion that's been hanging around like cobwebs on my ceiling.
I am releasing my soul from tiredness and antiquated, meaningless crap!
Stepping out of traps that have long been rusted.
I'm doing like some companies do when they reorganize, forgiving debts, writing off losses, and establishing good credit for myself.
There are simply some things that need to be written off.
Some people, too!

Reverend June Gaitlin
from Spirit Speaks to Sisters

Love,
T