The Measurement of a Man January 25, 2010

One of the most curious things about being a man is learning what being a man is all about.  I am edging up on 40 this June and I am never short on the number of answers that are available.

Being a man is speaking up for what you believe in.  That’s it. 

I really, really need people to let boys grow up on their own terms.  It is clear that the Old rules are NOT working. 

Not me, Not mine.  I ain’t gonna be able to do it.  And I won’t.

If you have sons, let them be themselves.  Teach them to rise and Fall on their own Merits and their own perceptions. 

Being a man is being the strong, silent type.

Being a man is Loving women

Being a man is Money over….well, you get the point.

For the vast majority of us, we are bombarded with contradictory notions of what makes up a man.  The very things that are poured into our spirits at birth as the pinnacle of manliness are things that are branded as immature and sophomoric.

Way before I got into the whole Inkognegro the Scribe Schtick, I have constantly mused on what it is that MAKES a man a man.

Growing up, what I was taught (turn the other cheek, in order to be a leader of all you must be a servant of all) never squared with what I experienced on the outisde.

Friday was a REALLY tough day for me.  For a brief moment, it all seemed like it was coming apart.

That evening I was on twitter and A female friend of mine was expressing how she had pulled herself out of a Nervous breakdown largely by verbalizing that she chose life.

It stopped me cold.

” I choose Life”  is a powerful statement, when you actually take it beyond sloganeering and Put it in practice.

But seriously…will “manhood” allow that kind of a statement to be made?

Shut Up and Pass the Yams November 24, 2009

I am a huge fan of Thanksgiving. 

Yeah, I know, Not exactly how it is supposed to be for hyper Political Negroes like me.

While I am quick to jump on the mythology and lies that are perpetrated in the name of American Exceptionalism, I have always had a soft spot for Thanksgiving.

I mean, sure, if Joe Pilgrim went and raped and pillaged the Native Americans as soon as the Itis set in and then covered it up with some sob story about scalping and Indian Rain-dances then I might be inclined to pass.

The reality is, people are ungrateful bastards who really should look into giving thanks whenever the opportunity presents itself, the politics of the day notwithstanding.

I will take this opportunity to be thankful for all the clicheish thigns in life that people should be thankful for.

I would be more thankful but I am not feeling very thankful right this second. I am sure I will be much more thankful when I get off work on Thanksgiving.

In the meantime, I would like to give thanks for being born Black and raised under the wonders of Afro-Centric Thanksgiving.

Except for Chitlins and relatives who show up late with integral parts of the meal. That is some bullshit and y’all need to stop.

I am positive I would be more indifferent to Thanksgiving if I came from a family that did Pumpkin Pie and not Sweet Potato Pie.

All y’all dudes crowing about white women remember thanksgiving in your calculations…I know my brother in law wishes he had. I wish I would walk into a house that didn’t have the smell of Sweet Potato Pie and the sound of Bad Detroit Lions Football.

Sorry, No Stalgia Allowed. November 12, 2009

Nostalgia is a seductive liar.  ~George Wildman Ball

 

In Tuesday’s post, I invoked the term Dinosaur.  I realize I didn’t do proper diligence to defining that term and Intended to devote today to outlining the length and breadth of the term.

Dinosaurs Are Creatures of the past.  Creatures born to rule in a certain period of time.  A periend where men were men, women were women, and sheep were nervous.  The rules were clear,

Men: Win Bread. Retrieve Bacon

Women: Make Home. Receive Bacon, and Fry it in a pan.

 

Men: Keeper of Castle

Women: Kept in Castle

 

Men: Slayer of Dragons

Women: Baker of cookies

 

As the story goes, these were the good old days.  Men NEVER left the house.  EVERYONE had Ward Cleaver Huxtable  And Donna June  Huxtable at home and if your kids came out screwed up, it had to have been because you didn’t love them enough and let them run the streets like the folks in the projects did.

 

And Papa was a Rolling Stone was a song about How Daddy used to Carry Mick Jagger’s bags before he came home to raise a family.

 

I refuse to believe that Papa was a Rolling Stone became a huge hit as some kind of a Fantastic inverse fairy tale.  The song resonated for many folks.

Yes….many of you will run over timid woodland creatures to comment about how fabulous YOUR family was.

and how long your Mom and Dad were married.

and how Your Dad Walked on water and your Mom washed his feet with her hair, and liked it.

And to that I say.  You, Sir/Ma’am, are Fortunate and blessed beyond measure.

The reality is the Black family in America is an Immaculate conception.

 

That we have ANY family heritage, ANY tradition of ANY kind, other than that akin to a team of horses, is a miracle on a par with the virgin birth.

The Black family was BORN broken and purposely left out to die byt the AnteBellum Society that sought to build an economy on its back.  It has limped along and fought for its survival, in the face of unspeakable odds.

In order to heal the enduring birth defects that the Black family still suffers, first we must avoid the tendency to act like the problem is somehow recent.  There has been a worsening of the circumstances that fit perfectly into the narrative that goes back to Jamestown (first one of you to usher the name of Willie Lynch into this narrative gets a one way ticket to time out)

This whole part of the game where we Yearn for Yesterday is wack – ESPECIALLY for a people whose freedom is tenuous and embryonic on a good day.

Any fond moments of yesteryear come from sporadic triumphs of the will and the grace of God (how much of which depends on how hard you go in on Saturday/Sunday)

Dinosaurs existed to guide through a period in our history…a period which appears to have long since passed.

 

Let them roam the earth in peace in their twilight years…Please do not act like The Dinosaurs have a future.  They do not.

Sometimes, the box isn’t so Idiotic after all November 6, 2009

As you might suspect, Today is not my day.  But here I am, nonetheless.  I have been instructed to “post something fun”, and this was the first thing I thought about.

 

 

Sesame Street is rapidly approaching its fortieth, birthday.  As an only child(at the time) to a single mother,  Sesame street was an invaluable tool to enhance the learning that was taking place in the home. 

As the quantty of Television for children has exploded with the advent of cable, the relative quality has been damaged irreparably.  Children’s television now has become an incubator for baby consumers.

While Sesame Street is not immune from these pressures (bear in mind, that the proceeds from CTW’s merchandise go to the company which doesnt sell advertising)  it has long been a welcome reprieve from the constant hustle that passes for Kids’ TV.

Oh, my bad, this was supposed to be fun. 

I would like to take this Friday and open the floor up to those of you who might like to share your Sesame Street memories, because I KNOW you have some. 

 

Single Sisters On: Neediness (The Fact is I Need You) October 20, 2008

Just listen to this song…it’s mellow and kinda soft from Ms. Jill Scott and has a wonderful message in it.

It’s age old and time tested. The relationship between man and woman is symbiotic. We each bring something to the table that the other needs and we know it. Through the course of time the woman has held the family down. She’s that safe harbor in the time of the storm. Women, especially black women, rise to the challenge and a man who has a good one, one that he loves and respects is quick to tell you that he’s not letting her go. That’s nice and all, but what about the women who have to be both mother and father? The ones who have to work two jobs just to hold it down at home. I want men to understand something, just because she looks like she has everything working just fine, the fact is she needs you.

I am not going to lie…I need a man, and it’s not because of what you’re thinking. I need his support, his love, his caring and kind way. I don’t need a man to rescue me or make me whole, but I do need to compliment me, to be the yin to my yang.

Since it’s an election year, let’s put it like this….Michelle does not need Barack to help her pay bills, she doesn’t need him to defend her or to give her anything. She’s made it on her own. What she needs him to do is have her back and raise their two girls to be the same strong woman that she is.

My biggest reason for writing this is to discuss the cohesion of the black family. Aside from this song by Jill Scott, I remember reading at VSB how the Champ was absolutely sure that his parents relationship with each other was much more important than their relationship with him. This leaves me to ponder, how can we raise children who understand the family dynamic if all they see is Mom struggling and Daddy always walking out? How do you help them to understand the family dynamic if they have 30 uncles by the time they’re 5 and they’ve never met Dad…and this is because the kids need you too.

I say this because yeah I need you, but I need you to always be there, not there when you’re getting your way or there when everything is roses, but I need you to be there when it’s hard to figure out how we’re going to make it. I need you to help me build. I need you to help me keep it steady.

What say you about the state of the black family? Can we fix it? What do you think the problem is?