The Ultimate Goal (for our national and global community)

Rev. Dr. King Jr., “The Ethical Demands of Integration” (1962):

"Although the terms desegregation and integration are often used interchangeably, there is a great deal of difference between the two. In the context of what our national community needs, desegregation alone is empty and shallow. We must always be aware of the fact that our ultimate goal is integration, and that desegregation is only a first step on the road to the good society. Perhaps this is the point at which we should define our terms.

The word segregation represents a system that is prohibitive; it denies the Negro equal access to schools, parks, restaurants, libraries and the like. Desegregation is eliminative and negative, for it simply removes these legal and social prohibitions. Integration is creative, and is therefore more profound and far-reaching than desegregation. Integration is the positive acceptance of desegregation and the welcomed participation of Negroes in the total range of human activities. Integration is genuine intergroup, interpersonal doing.

Desegregation then, rightly, is only a short-range goal. Integration is the ultimate goal of our national community. Thus, as America pursues the important task of respecting the “letter of the law,” i.e., compliance with desegregation decisions, she must be equally concerned with the “spirit of the law,” i.e., commitment to the democratic dream of integration.

We do not have to look very far to see the pernicious effects of a desegregated society that is not integrated. It leads to “physical proximity without spiritual affinity.” It gives us a society where men are physically desegregated and spiritually segregated, where elbows are together and hearts are apart. It gives us special togetherness and spiritual apartness. It leaves us with a stagnant equality of sameness rather than a constructive equality of oneness."

Sorry Touré, Young Black Boys Need A Different Talk About Trayvon Martin: Nine talking points about the potentially powerful condition of being Black*

*adapted from "How to Talk to Young Black Boys About Trayvon Martin: Eight talking points about the potentially fatal condition of being black" By Touré
    

 

1. It’s unlikely but possible that you could get killed today. Or any day. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. I tell you that not to scare you but because knowing that could save your life. There are [law enforcement agents] who will look at you and see a villain or a criminal or something fearsome. It’s possible they may act on their prejudice and insecurity. Being Black could turn an ordinary situation into a life-or-death moment even if you’re doing nothing wrong.

2. If you encounter such a situation, you need to tell the law enforcement agent(s) who you are. Look in their eyes. Give them your full name and make sure they hear your last name. Tell them what school you go to, the neighborhood you live in, and a few of the community organizations that you’ve been participating in. Speak as calmly as you can. Don’t stop talking until you say those things. Your mission is to let those agents know that you belong to a community that loves you and that is prepared to stand their ground with you. 

3. There is nothing wrong with you. I love you. Your family loves you. Your community loves you. But, we cannot physically be with you at all times. Others will treat you differently when you are alone. They may try to control what you are doing or where you’re going. Stand your ground. Tell them who you are. The information you tell them will remind them that you are human.  It will let them know you are not alone. It will remind you that you are not standing your ground alone.

4. You do not have to live in constant fear. That’s a part of the beauty of being in this family and this community. Some things are worse than dying. Allowing fear to handcuff your entire life, when you’re doing nothing wrong, is one of them. There might be situations where you are afraid. You can’t be fully prepared for every situation that someone decides you are a criminal because you’re Black. You don’t have to be fearless. You do have to know how to make yourself fear less.  Living in constant fear is about thinking you are less human, less valuable, less worthy, less beautiful, less intelligent. You are none of those things. You will not fulfill your purpose by living that way.

5. You are a threat, but not for the reasons that will lead them to prejudge you. You are a threat because you are not an isolated citizen. They will have to deal with you, your family, and your community. The best way for them to know that is for you to tell them that. You do that by telling them who you are the way that I told you to. When you tell them your name, school, neighborhood, and those organizations, you will remember your value to the world. If you never forget that, they can’t damage your spirit. They can’t stop us from standing our ground with you. 

6. Be aware of your surroundings. Don’t give them an opportunity to make a mistake. Look at everyone who walks near you. You cannot read people if you do not look at them. Speak first and politely to everyone who walks near you. If they hear your humanity, they might change their minds and decide not to ignore your humanity. 

7. If you feel you are being profiled and followed or, worse, chased by someone with a vigilante streak, then you need to act. By calling the police. This is the time to make police work for you. Make them protect and serve you. I know there are times the police will be your enemies, but making them work for you could save your life.

8. What if it’s the police who are making you feel threatened? Well, then you need to do what I have trained you to do. Tell them who you are. I don’t mean resist. Your power is in your identity. Make sure they hear the names of the communities that stand with you. Follow all instructions. Know when it is the safest moment to tell them who you are. Keep your cool. Your goal is remind them that you are not alone, no matter how alone you may feel. We will hold them accountable later. In the moment, do what you’ve trained to do. Say sir. If they are behaving unjustly, their livelihoods and careers will be in danger later. Focus on you for now. If you survive, you will be able to tell a lawyer, your family, and your community what happened. If you don’t …

9. Never forget: I love you. Your family loves you. Your community loves you. They can’t damage your spirit. They can’t stop us from living for you. We will not rest until we hold them accountable. We are standing our ground with you.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….......

These talking points address a complex situation and complex problems. Some of them have life and death consequences.  I sincerely reject the suggestion that Black Boys are being positioned to advance themselves or are being made safer, by telling them “the mission is to survive.” If the initial or main response to these situations - to these complex problems – is to remind Black boys and each other that this is “part of the burden of being Black,” many more will not survive, let alone live well. Black boys need to know they are not alone, even when alone, and people who seek to control the bodies of Black boys need to know that as well.

I was a little younger than Trayvon was at the time of his death, when an unknown man grabbed me from behind, put a gun in my back, and forced me into a dark, obscure alley. I was walking to a bus stop in a neighborhood that I didn’t live in, that I wasn’t familiar with, and that I visited only so that I could lift weights at the only gym that I could afford. My mission at the time was to get an athletic scholarship that would pay for college and allow me to play football. 

On this night in particular, I was being mugged, and I found myself by myself in an alley with a gun aimed at the back of my head. It is by the grace of God that I would eventually walk away unharmed, but my safe departure was not the result of a mistake. I knew I wasn’t alone in that alley, and I knew that because my 5’5’’ 125 lb-ish friend, Marcus, followed me into that alley. Literally. I could hear him following me because he was telling the mugger, “Relax. I got the money. I got the money.” Marcus didn’t have any money on him. He decided he wasn’t going to leave me alone. Soon after, we both stood, faced away from the mugger, with the gun aimed at our heads. The mugger ultimately left “empty handed” and we went home unharmed.

I believe it’s because neither of us felt isolated or alone, that we were able to think quickly, clearly, and relatively calmly in that alley. Marcus and I returned to that neighborhood and that same exact traveling route and routine, two days later; we did so together, and we did so because “the mission” was so much greater than to just “survive.”

I share this story because Marcus believed in my identity and my value to our community long before this incident ever occurred. Few believed in me more when I was growing up. 

Marcus refused to leave me by myself, as I knew he would long before we found ourselves in this situation, and he probably saved my life. He refused to let my attacker think that I was isolated or alone, and I was able to think in those moments when my life was being threatened.  Marcus stood his ground with me.

Marcus - and friends like him - has propelled me forward at every complex, and critical stage of my life. I am convinced: powerful, life-saving, and life-changing decisions are easier for one to make when one knows he isn’t alone. One can and will do things with his mind and body that isn’t limited to trying to “survive,” when one knows that people are willing to stand their ground with him. 

My experiences lead me to believe Black boys don’t need more talking points about the potentially fatal condition of being Black. I don’t think that makes them safer, nor do I believe that should be the takeaway from this recent tragedy.

With Trayvon Martin’s case, we have an opportunity to give Black boys different talking points, talking points they don’t hear enough or that are rarely believable.

This country is on the verge of significant change because of the potentially powerful condition of being Black. Many Black boys are witnessing their first movement where the nation appears to be rallying behind a Black child. If the question is, “What do we tell Black boys about Trayvon Martin?” the answer ought to be one that saves Black boys lives and that positions them to individually and collectively have greater control over their minds and bodies.

The main point - not talking point - Black boys need to take away from Trayvon Martin’s case? Black boys, you are not alone and we are standing our ground with you. My friend Marcus, and others, made sure I had no doubts that that was their commitment to me, and it saved my life.

More Black boys can be saved, if we make sure they know they are not alone. All we have to do is stand our ground with them. 

-Kaloma

Love, Compassion, Care, & Concern Across Racial Lines

“When the system of mass incarceration collapses (and if history is any guide, it will), historians will undoubtedly look back and marvel that such an extraordinarily comprehensive system of racialized social control existed in the United States. How fascinating, they will likely say, that a drug war was waged almost exclusively against poor people of color - people already trapped in ghettos that lacked jobs and decent schools. They were rounded up by the millions, packed away in prisons, and when released, they were stigmatized for life, denied the right to vote, and ushered into a world of discrimination. Legally barred from employment, housing, and welfare benefits - and saddled with thousands of dollars in debt - these people were shamed and condemned for failing to hold together their families. They were chastised for succumbing to depression and anger, and blamed for landing back in prison. Historians will likely wonder how we could describe the new caste system as a system of crime control, when it is difficult to imagine a system better designed to create - rather than prevent - crime.

None of that is to suggest that those who break the law bear no responsibility for their conduct or exist merely "as products of their environment." To deny the individual agency of those caught up in the system - their capacity to overcome seemingly impossible odds - would be to deny an essential element of their humanity. We, as human beings, are not simply organisms or animals responding to stimuli. We have a higher self, a capacity for transcendence.

Yet our ability to exercise free will and transcend the most extraordinary obstacles does not make the conditions of our life irrelevant. Most of us struggle and often fail to meet the biggest challenges of our lives. Even smaller challenges - breaking a bad habit or sticking to a diet - often prove too difficult, even for those of us who are relatively privileged and comfortable in our daily lives.

In fact, what is most remarkable about the hundreds of thousands of people who return from prison to their communities each year is not how many fail, but how many somehow manage to survive and stay out of prison against all the odds. Considering the design of this new system of control, it is astonishing that so many people labeled criminals still manage to care for and feed their children, hold together marriages, obtain employment, and start businesses. Perhaps most heroic are those who, upon release, launch social justice organizations that challenge the discrimination ex-offenders face and provide desperately needed support for those newly released from prison. These heroes go largely unnoticed by politicians who prefer to blame those who fail, rather than praise with admiration and awe all those who somehow manage, despite seemingly insurmountable hurdles, to survive.

As a society, our decision to heap shame and contempt upon those who struggle and fail in a system designed to keep them locked up and locked out says far more about ourselves than it does about them.

There is another path. Rather than shaming and condemning an already deeply stigmatized group, we, collectively, can embrace them – not necessarily their behavior, but them – their humanness. As the saying goes, “You gotta hate the crime, but love the criminal.” This is not a mere platitude; it is a prescription for liberation. 

If we had actually learned to show love, care, compassion, and concern across racial lines during the Civil Rights Movement – rather than go colorblind – mass incarceration would not exist today."

 

- Michelle Alexander ("The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness")
http://www.amazon.com/New-Jim-Crow-Incarceration-Colorblindness/dp/1595581030

Her Eyes

Her eyes:





I love him.

He loves me. Nothing else matters. Our love is so strong that we spend all our time together. It doesn't matter that we spend a decent majority of that time arguing or not being on the same page. This is love. Our love accepts the frequency in which we argue because our love wouldn't dare accept the thought of someone else spending time with our love. Nothing is perfect.

Our love is no different.

The love is so strong that I forgot about all the plans and goals I had in my life before I found this love. More of my plans and my goals were given up than his but that is a consequence of love. Who cares about that activity that used to give me so much joy? That joy -- which depended on no one and nothing -- has been replaced with love. A love that I will do anything to hold on to because I've already moved myself from those joyful things that I used to and could do by myself. I need this love more than ever now. My need for this love is why I accept being talked down to. It's why I try to ignore the reality that we really don't talk about anything that is important to me, let alone anything that is important. My need for this love is more important. It's more important than my friends. More important than my family. This is love.

This is the only love I've ever known.

My love is willing to work hard to gain approval and acceptance. I trade in getting my way so that I can get love. My interests are put on the back burner because I get busy maintaining our love, not my interests. I feel misunderstood and many times unappreciated but he is here. Love is within reach, most of the time. My love sometimes does his own thing. I on the other hand will do the things my love wants me to do when he wants them done. Our love won't exist any other way. This is a consequence of love. This love is demanding. Maintaining the love is consuming. So demanding and so consuming that I no longer love those things that I don't have to exhaust myself for. Things such as sunshine, helping someone in need, being alive. I now only enjoy love… when it's not out doing its own thing.

This is love.

Unique and special to the point that I feel this is the only way to have it. The only way it exists. Six plus billion men and women doesn't change that. I need this love. This love does not give me what I truly need or deserve but this love is still more love than no love. This imperfect love has been around for so long that Its company must be a sign that love is present. To be alone is to be without love. Anything is better than that. The love that refuses to kiss me, open up to me, or sacrifice for me is still better than that. That's why I accept the love that only comes around for sex.

Nothing is perfect.

Comfort comes from being in direct control of being able to guarantee love's presence. I'd rather see it cum and go, then to be alone and without love. Present for only a few condoms at a time, I've avoided having to go without love. Anything is better than that. Our love does not have room for me to share my deepest fears or my weirdest thoughts. I've never known a love like that. Nothing is perfect. Love is no different. This is love. I need love. Nothing else matters. I need it now more than ever.





--Kaloma




"thought it was good
thought it was real
thought it was
but it wasn't love"

--Jill Scott, "Slowly, Surely"

Troy Davis, Matthew 7:12, and the "Message"

Clarence Thomas addressing the multiple eye witnesses that identified him, and his investigation…

“This is a circus. It's a national disgrace. It is a high-tech lynching for uppity blacks who in any way deign to think for themselves, and it is a message that unless you kowtow to an old order, you will be lynched, destroyed, caricatured by a committee…rather than hung from a tree.”





Justice Clarence Thomas addressing seven of the nine (Troy Davis) witnesses that have recanted or contradicted their testimony, and Davis's investigation…



11:08 p.m. ET




Justice Thomas, it is indeed a message.

Have I Told You I Love You?

 

 

             Have I told you I love you?

         Maybe I did and you did not know what I meant.

If that is the case than I am partly to blame.
Communication requires a commitment to repetition and   

     clarity.
So.
Let me say it in another way.
Your happiness is important to me.

Nothing can change that. 

When the world judges you, a friend I will be. 

Your future is more important to me.

Forgive yourself for being imperfect, inconsistent, 

     hypocritical, or foolish at times. 

For these are human tendencies. 

Loving you beyond what I may not want to hear or see, 

     you can always - despite man-made restrictions - talk to 

     me. 

If you need someone to listen, tell me not to talk back. You'll hear, "I'm here," concluded with, "I got your back." 

Keeping count of who did what for who has never been 

     important to me. 

And, honestly, staying in touch isn't even necessary. 

Ask for help without feeling guilty. 

Love was…is…radically revolutionary. 

Its message: you don't have to be“deserving” for you to 

     matter to me. 

I get busy. 

I may need reminding.
But never forget: you’re a priority. 

If I haven’t told you lately, I’m telling you now. 

And if you know not what I mean, I will tell you… again… 

     the best way I know how.

                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                             --Kaloma




This was written to honor a former teammate who took his own life on Good Friday. We had not talked in years but that didn't matter. His decision and absence touched me deeply. 

We often don't know when "I love you" isn't enough until it's too late. Part of the problem is that the words "I love you" many times isn't enough. It means different things, to different people, in different circumstances. We need to say more. We need to accept the challenge of loving more and I don't mean loving more people. I mean loving the people we are supposed to love, the people we claim to love, and the people who need love the most, more. If we do so, lives will be saved. If we do not, suicide - whether it's in a moment or over an extended period of self-destructive behavior -- will continue. I'm not sure if my friend heard "I love you" recently or not. I do know he needed to hear more than those words and I'm sure there is someone very close to you who does also. 

So, forget the question, "Have I told you I love you lately?" Ask yourself, "How did I say it the last time that I did?" And, "How will I say it the next time that I choose to?"

Be blessed.

--Kaloma

WHEN YOU...

Jesus kept me. I know if he did it…I know if he did it… I know if he did it… for me, for me, for me, for me, for me, for me, for me, for me…He will delight… in doing it for you.


                                                                                – Yolanda Adams






When you’ve been kept through some hard trials and temptations and you recognize and remember those experiences… it becomes that much easier to wrap your arms around the next person who is in the midst of their trials and temptations.


When you know what it is like to stand on sinking sand – even if it’s momentarily – and you’ve been snatched up and saved by a hand that didn’t wait for you to learn your lesson… it becomes that much easier to look for and to spot those who are regressing.


When you’ve been the recipient of and appreciated a blessing that you didn’t deserve…it becomes that much easier to extend yourself to the next person who may not deserve your sacrifice or assistance.


When you allow the quiet to fill the room, and you realize that even in your worst moments, He never left you…it becomes easier to accept the challenge of choosing people you will never turn your back on, despite those painful moments of miscommunication or inconsistency that almost always pops up in any close relationship.


When you deflate your ego, the compliments, and the misleading affirmations of “you did it”, not only do you see that you weren't always faithful, obedient or trustful…it becomes easier to answer the question, “How did you do it?” with a response that doesn’t start and stop at “I worked hard.”


When you know the world was trying to make you think you were going to lose your mind, and it failed because a peace that passes understanding covered you…it becomes easier to remind another that, faith alone can be the source of a smile, a laugh, or a “thank you in advance.”
 
When you’ve stretched your hands to people whom you know love you or want to love you, and the limitations of their humanity silently responded with, “I still can’t save you”…it becomes easier to close your eyes and to repeat Yolanda’s closing words:


Father I stretch,
my hands to thee,
no other help,
can’t go nowhere else.
If you don’t bless me,
I can’t be blessed.
If you don’t touch me,
I can’t be held.
Yeahhhh. 
Yeah.




Be blessed,
Kaloma