I’m not crazy….I’m more like “Psycho Adjacent”
Seemingly always sitting on the proverbial fence of sanity is exhilarating. Who’s going to summon the inner Dexter today? No, no…I’m not a serial killer…in it’s literal sense. I’m more like a precision assassin with my words. Words that all too often do more than just injure….words that kill. Words that are the pure antithesis to life-giving. When I feel myself teetering to the side of tranquility someone or something keeps me on the fence. When I feel myself being pulled by the gravity of instability…the measure of God that is within me, keeps me balanced. Usually I’m one snide remark away melting someones emotions…especially in this season where race matters are heightened. I don’t know how long you’ve been reading “Kennethology” but even prior to Ferguson, I’ve been one to talk about and discuss the fallacy of “post-racial” America, and keep people abreast of actual datum, while attempting to not be subjective due to subject-matter.
I never knew how sensitive I was regarding injustice – until recent happenings have brought me to real tears. Until recent happenings have made me realize that I’m psycho adjacent. Recent happenings have brought me to a point of prayer for guidance regarding my part, and role in all of this. This is well beyond social media posts…my call to action has been made….and I’m answering it. If you’re interested – shoot me an email. Serious inquiries only.
Let progression begin.
Today was rough. It just was. And not because of the idiotic statements on my Facebook timeline from Whites and Blacks alike, but because it wasn’t the first and I know it won’t be the last of its kind. I was emotional and irrational and despite my many, many warnings people insisted on trying me. On challenging my emotions. On questioning my fear, my pain, and my rage. And my anger. My passionate anger and my desire to feel each of those feelings fully and intentionally. Today was not a day for peace, progress, and positivity – it was a day of mourning.
But WHY was I so angry? It wasn’t because of the lack of any indictment – many of us saw that coming. It wasn’t because of the ignorant comments – I’ve known for a long time that there was ignorance, various levels of “-isms”, and stupidty amongst my group of social media “friends”. It wasn’t even because of Michael Brown’s death or the pain of his family – those images are far too familiar -> to Emmitt Till and beyond. I was angry because I was hopeless.
But I work with and for young people. Black and brown young people who everyday I’m trying to inspire hope in. Everyday so many of us tell them that getting an education will ensure their futures. Everyday so many of us mentor and push them to aspire to greatness. Everyday so many of us demand excellence and greatness from them. Every day. EVERY DAY.
But what happens on a day like today? How do I give hope when I don’t have any? How do I look at them and give inspiration and not feel my spirit cry when I see the hope draining from their eyes? How do I challenge them to be better when they don’t think they’ll live long enough to reap the rewards? How do I give hope when I don’t have any? How do I respond when they say, “Now what?”
I can’t mentor them out of police brutality. I can’t educate them away from racism. All I can do is try to teach them not to hate, but still to live life on the defense. All I can do is inspire civic engagement. All I can do is tell them that they can be the one’s to change this country, but even that feels like a lie. I can’t protect them. We can’t protect them. And so none of that feels like it’s enough and less than enough feel like nothing. I give them the very best that I have – and it’s nothing.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t enjoy being angry. I don’t enjoy feeling hopeless. I enjoy these tears. I don’t enjoy injustice. I don’t enjoy pain. Yet so many feel so entitled to tell me how to feel. How to move on and how quickly the process should be.
Today was not a day for peace, positivity, and progress. It was a day of pain and mourning. And anger – so much outrage and rage. And I was entitled to it. And tomorrow might be like today.
soo……..I don’t want what happened to Sydney and Tina, to happen to me.
They’ve been attacked by the Bey-hive.
Bey is fine….I mean…like….she’s really…..fine.
But that does not excuse her…at all, from what I just saw. She valmorphorized into a hybrid of Future, Lil Jon, a kid at Christmas, a random ratchet at a house party and Nicki all in 3 minutes and 27 seconds. Looked like she had fun tho…I love the calculated candidness **sips Reisling and Kool-Aid** – but the first time I see stans “spinning and clapping” or talking to the bottom of their foot, I’m slapping the first old lady I see.
To quote one of the beloved contributors to kennethology.com; Sydney Charles “That’s not art…that’s mindless, robotic, brain washed following” – she nailed it. For someone that delivers songs like “Love on Top” to be bouncin’ in the kitchen with red cups…is nonsensical. But we watch, we emulate and then pay her. It’s business.
Ironically as I type this, Flocka is playing in the background….and it hit me….Beyonce Flocka Flame one hood *** *****
She still fine though. *goes to watch again…
The movie opened in select theaters nationwide on the 17th of October. I had been anticipating its release since social media got ahold of it, and inspired #dearwhitepeople tags on things blacks would point out that was either racist, or annoying that white people did. We haven’t had anything like this since Spike in the 90s – this to me was going to be “School Daze” meets “Higher Learning” (i know “Higher” was not a Spike joint too btw).
I got back to Washington – found 1 of the 3 places it was showing in Seattle..and got there early. After getting my popcorn and glass of Malbec (#78 of things bougie blacks love: wine in movie theaters), I found my seat in a very…very empty theatre…like, i was the only person in there…good thing 3 of my friends showed up to watch it, because it was only us 4 in there….period.
The movie got underway – it was filmed very well. The cinematic layout and timing was great. They slowly brought us into the narrative and then began to leak sub-plots. The inner-conflict that some of the characters were dealing with were displayed well. Tessa Thompson became one of my favorites, and I hope to see her in more movies. Whether it was her being Huey Newton’s first seed, or dealing with her relationship issues..she sold whatever she wanted, and i bought all of it.
Dear White People was a movie that needed to be made. It touched base on the modern racial-America. And if nothing else, would serve as a good place to start conversations on race, prejudice and tolerance. My boy that saw the movie weeks prior to me seeing it said that white people were actually getting up and leaving the theatre. I don’t really know what to say about that – because by the end of it, the movies laces were tied pretty well….and it spoke more to harmony than anything.
– Kenneth Seales
A few months ago I had 2 revelations. (1) The biggest coup people of privilege (read: white people – mainly men) have pulled off in recent decades is making oppressed people feel guilty for calling out their oppression. (2) I shall share later.
What do I mean? Have you ever been accused of ‘playing the race card’? Or being ‘too sensitive/emotional’?Or Had your comments brushed off making you feel foolish or guilty for even bringing it up? — Well that’s what I mean.
The problem is along with this revelation I’ve also realized that my tolerance for someone else’s foolishness, ignorance, or particular brand of “-ism” (racism, sexism, classism, or other privilege) is at an all time low. It’s actually deficient and is currently below 0. And I’m fine with that.
So go ahead and accuse me of “playing cards”, because I keep a deck in my back pocket. Tell me I’m being emotional and you shall experience all of them in real time.
And it never fails. Some fool will hit me with a “but compared to before, we’ve progressed as a society” line (women in the workplace, post-racial America, and so on..). And to you I say, yes. We have progressed. It’s no longer socially acceptable to lynch Blacks, but it’s still perfectly ok to shoot us dead in the street for no reason with no consequences. Women ARE now in the workplace, but we also make .75cents on the dollar compared to men (well the white women do.. that number drops to .68cents for Black women & lower for Latinas) for doing the same exact work. So your barometer is STILL WRONG.
I’m now seriously considering walking around with a deck of playing cards so I can throw them at people. I’m even creating a rating system.
- If you update your opinion based on our conversation, I’ll toss you an Ace, or King, or Queen.
- If I dislike your opinion, question, whatever – you’ll get a 2-10 based on the quality of your argument…..Who am I kidding… I’m going to throw the Joker at you. Because that’s what you are.
The moral of the story is: If you accuse me of “playing cards” get ready for me to pull out a deck. Because I won’t feel guilty for naming/calling out oppression when I see it. Joker.
it’s been awhile since I’ve been able to blog – and that bothers me, because I always have so many things to say…but we’ll just go off of what’s on my mind now. A story comes to mind…a true story, a story of something that was skrate ignant….
a friend and I were sitting at a table for lunch – with some associates…my friend is mexican…and I’m black ( mozambique blood to be exact ) – our associates were white. Someone came to the table that knew all of us…ALL OF US. She had someone with her that none of us knew. So…etiquette would have us assume that we’re all about to be introduced to the woman that had come to our table with the colleague that brought her. Please note….they were also white. Now what happens next really destroyed my gears…she came to the table and introduced her to all of the white people at the table, and never once looked our way…we were not introduced, spoken to…or looked at. I had the traditional “what the hell is going” face – and my buddy (the mexican) says out loud “Never mind us…we’re just the coloreds” My eyes widened…mouth dropped, and I laughed really hard. All of the “accepted” people looked our way because they had no clue as to what had just happened. – and that….to me is the saddest part of the story. That after the two women walked away we had to explain to them what had just happened – and of course….we were considered Las Vegas Experts….you know…those that play race cards.
I’m tired of things happening and I have to just live with it…and when I speak on it…im being too sensitive or race-baiting. No – people are jerks.