White Flight From Birth

First, I'm on a bit of a high. Apparently my blog is getting some attention. I just got a tweet back from a producer at Nightline regarding my comments made on a recent piece they did about sistas complaining because they can't seem to find good brothers. If they do a follow up piece, maybe they'll consider me for an interview!!! Wishful thinking... Anyhow I've had this episode going on in my mind for the past few days so apparently, I need to write about it. Allow me first to put in some context. I like Sandra Bullock. I remember when she actually did a pilot movie for NBC back in 89 where she was to be the next Bionic Woman. Thank god it failed because she would not have won the Oscar. I didn't see the Blind Side but I loved her performance in Crash where I think she and Terrance Howard should have been nominated for Oscars. As for her choice in men, Jesse James...WOW I had no idea he was like a nazi. That kinda has me broke up, because I kinda liked his show--Jesse James is a Dead Man. Well I liked the title at least. But that kinda threw me. Which leads me to I guess to my question for the day. Is racism and white privilege something that is genetic or learned at birth? Here is the anecdote. Lill' Chief and I were at his spot, the Barnes and Nobel one afternoon for his after school cookie and the usual father son chat. I chatted while he just chewed while he chewed on his chocolate chip cookie. (alright so I have a flare for alliteration, sue me) I was so proud of him because he had a great day in school. Never let the wife know, but apparently watching television with your kids pays dividends. Now I am not too cool with him being a TV hollic. So I monitor the TV time and make sure for every hour of TV, he has at least two hours of reading or running outside time. -- Note to my single black dads out there!!!! Sit down at night and read to your children. Anyway his show (at least for the moment is wonder pets) where they stress teamwork. Picking him up from his school/daycare-- it really should be a mini university cause the tuition is just as much as the local universities- his teaches share with me that he stopped a disagreement with two girls who were arguing over a hula hoop. He instructs them that its better to use teamwork and sharing. Hearing that I was just like that is the best present any parent could have. Hearing that you child can demonstrate diplomatic thinking at the age of three is like whoa! He got this from wonder pets. A TV show, educational TV at that! Chalk one up for my side. My rule with him is when he does good, he gets perks. When he doesn't make good decisions, I bore him with long lectures about accountability, responsibility etc. In essence, I do the Ward Cleaver on him to the point where I am thinking he is saying to him-- daddy, just punish me, don't talk me to death!!!! LOL Ok anyway, the perk was a whole chocolate chip cookie, with water (no chocolate milk) and some extra time at the thomas the train set. While he is there, of course I am reading books on parenting and also engaging him. Soon a little African American girl joins him with her mom in tow. Seeing them play and going back and forth with the trains was good for me because again, at his school he really doesn't have that many African American peers. Here is the fun part, a lone white child comes to the trains. He's about six or seven and he approaches the train set but won't play with them. Instead he takes a chair and watches them play, waiting I guess for them to leave. Looking at him and looking at this young girl's mother apparently we were both on the same page. Why is he just doing that-just sitting and waiting. So I take the initiative really trying to mind my words because I don't want offend him. "You know you can play too right," I say. He's respectful but cautious at the same time, saying he knows. Then I look back at the other parent and we both just give each other the look which is pretty much telekinetic. I'm saying to this little Caucasian boy, in my mind of course, get up there and play with them, they're not going to bite you. But again, not to come out of my social space -- I instead just chill and engage the two kids who are playing with the trains. Now eventually he does engage them, but it was almost like he had to make a decision. Do I play with the trains with these black children or do I wait patiently for them to leave? Again this kid is only 6 years old, but apparently he knows or has identified a set of sub codes which apparently are race based. That might make an interesting research question. What are the signifiers of race, when are they learned and when does one learn the social cues regarding the racial hierarchy?

What I had to say to Nightline

http://blogs.abcnews.com/nightlinedailyline/2010/03/single-black-female-nightline-faceoff-set.html
my response
If I may, I am going to say something that may be provocative but at the same time needs to be said. There are good brothers out here, and at the risk of being presumptuous I am admittedly one of them. I am finishing my Ph.D. and am looking for a job that allows me to make good coin for me and my son (my wife and I are in the midst of a separation) while also providing me a sense of dignity. That said--in many cases when sisters (high maintenance sisters included) have a good man, they don't know what to do with them. In some cases (at least mine) my wife was among the same category of these women-- Ph.D. in Educational Psychology, working at a university making good coin. Long story short, in my case, I considered myself a work in progress; however, lack of patience and lack of vision and lack of focus pretty much caused tensions. I share all that to say our that our "high maintenance" really need a dose of reality and need to stop thinking about their biological clocks and look at brothers not as ATMS, or sperm banks. Relationships particularly with non-predatory brothers, take time, energy, and a sense of humility and love. I think it really is a part of our Gen X phenomena-- everything must be provided in an instant. Also, I think it is important to mention this piece was a bit class biased. From looking at it for the first time, no one really challenged the women on the issue of materialism, fashion (including their hair) or even the process of getting to where they are presently. I think it is a safe assumption to say that these sisters represent outliers to a great degree. It would be nice to be in committed relationship with a woman who is prosecuting attorney who also is a cheerleader for a national football team who owns her own house and Mercedes. Again at the risk of sounding cynical, this piece really wreaks of girls who appear to be materialistic and to some degree, controlling in their relationships. Not knowing any of these sisters, at all, I think their values appear to be skewed and in essence they may represent are the source of their own problem. It would have been interesting to hear what their lists include: at the risk of projecting, I'll share what appear to be the top 5.
1) be single
2) be employed
3) no children
4) have a professional degree
5) be easy on the eyes--which translates into being "good looking."
Number one would be a no brainer. But after that, choosey sisters in this case are really choosing Jiff.
We are in a recession and the job market is tighter than shoes two sizes too small. Brothers may be going back to school, the brother may be laid off who knows. In some cases brothers are underemployed in to be honest, at the risk of having my "man card" suspended, unemployment or even underemployment can really impune ones psychic sense of masculinity.
Children, why should children automatically be a deal breaker? That to me would be a good barometer for the sisters to look at. What is the relationship like with his child(ren). Does he have a good support system to help with his children. What is the relationship like with the mother of his children? These are excellent indicators of parenting potential.
Professional degree-- dollar signs. If I am a lawyer, and he is an MD, we can make a lot of money and we can have our children and we can send them to the best schools. This to me represents a clear cut case of too much Cosby Show reruns. I loved that show but I also have to say I have a love hate relationship with it. On the surface, it pointed to the black upper middle class. As program it was meritorious as an outstanding achievement in black television. However, as an agent of social construction, it crippled the black community. The show was a social construction in the age or Reganomics where greed and materialism was en vogue... Now the chickens have come home to roost, but their brand or rooster is hard to find. Ergo the sisters are in a dilemma? No the sisters are at "Fantasy Island." In essence they are by choice passing on potentially good fruit because they want their appetite feed instantaneously.
Easy on the eyes. At the risk of being put on the margins, I think President Obama got elected because he represents the exotic ideal-he is bi-racial. Denzel, easy on the eyes. Will Smith, easy on the eyes. Not every bother is going to be eye candy. Some brothers like myself are "mild" and not a hypersexualized, hypermasculinzed, black buck. I was the nerd in school, the geek who was in the AP classes, who had to when he got to college, let the availability of girls go to my head. This of course lead to academic probation. But even then, I wasn't the typical pretty boy or captain of the football team-- I was strictly average. These sisters don't want that. They want the ideal, hence why they style themselves a certain way. Straight hair, be it their own, or synthetic, bodies which are synthetic and or synthetic. Why, so they can be attractive the same type. I'm sorry but that's how I view this piece.
R2

The Idiots Guide to a Being Black Man: How NOT to get into college

My nephew-- he just turned 18 and thinks he knows everything..... Ok we all thought that when we were 18 but still on the verge of 40 just watching it completely all over again gives me more respect for my parent. He's got a decent GPA like a 2.8 to 3.0 I think. But here comes the rub, the SAT. Now when he got his results back he was saying he had a 1400. We were all like YEA! But for some reason the colleges he applied to were just flat out saying no or re take you SAT. This is a classic lesson of hard head makes for soft behind. He didn't understand that they only take the reading and math portion of the test, not the writing sample too seriously thus knocking his score down to possibly the lowest in family history. No one got the point of this until like February when most schools are in the phase of making their initial decisions for entrance. Now he is complaining because he just turned 18, its spring break weekend and he cannot understand why his mother won't let him go to the beach. I mean he really made some appeals to various members of the family including myself. I was like hell, go, not too much you can do right now but his mom has like got him in the torture rack for the entire spring break and he doesn't know why. I broke the news to him as best as I could on Friday. I got good news and bad news for you. The good news is that your mother is flexible about you going to the beach. The bad news is that you have to get into a college before you go. Sucks right? Here is how one fixes it so he cannot get into college.
1) Get bad grades. Be mediocre at best. When you have homework, it's nothing but a doge to keep you from playing the latest video game.
2) Be as misinformed and disengaged as possible. Guidance counselors are there strictly to analyze your behavioral problems-not to help you navigate the college entrance process. When college day arrives on your high school campus, just use it as a senior skip day.
3) When your parents buy you SAT prep books for the holidays, use them as paperweights. The words they have inside them are meaningless and by all accounts are nothing more than attempts to force you to speak "white." Who needs to know words like acute or loquacious. The only time you might see these words would be on Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune.
4) Stay away from the library. The library is nothing more than the Legion of Doom. If you do go to the library, stay away from books because they are kryptonite. Now the audio visuals are allowable provided they are theoretical motion pictures and not informative videos like Nova, or Eyes on the Prize.
5) Avoid the following classes like H1N1-- Algebra1, 2, 3 Geometry, Trigonometry, Pre-Calculus, Honors English, History Chemistry, Physics, or Applied Sciences. Instead, take classes like Clay, Wrestling, Brawling.
6) Deadlines--deadlines are just time wasters. Don't worry about deadlines. Fill out all applications when you get good and damn ready. This includes the FASA, oh hell, why even bother with FASA.
7) Extra curricular activities-- you don't need em. Again, they just take up too much time. If you have an extra curricular activity allow it to be football, basketball, or track. In fact, when you fill out your college application (if you get around to it) say you are going to major in football.
8) References-- get the most benign references you can find. A good start would be the teacher who doesn't know you from a hole in the wall. Another good reference could be one of your running partners, you know, your homeboy. He could be pretty good, And lastly, go to your pastor, who in all probability didn't go to the college you were hopping to get into.
9) Be a stand out. Be as disruptive in your classes as possible. Every class needs someone to be the center of attention, so why not let it be you. Go ahead, speak out when you don't know the answer. Make comments unrelated to the class discussion. It never hurts to be an over achiever. Get put out of class once or twice. Hell why stop with class, get put out of school for a couple of weeks. Now that's how you make a name for yourself.
10) Contribute to Gene Pool: Go get a few girls pregnant. This the foolproof way to end any hope of going to college for at least 18 years. If you have two, you've won the bonus round because now 18 becomes 36 years.

Money back guarantee if none of these tactics work.

The Idiots Guide to a Being Black Man: How to survive a traffic stop

This morning I am on the verge of making a rather simple decision... I am debating on to or not to actually start creating video logs on youtube. Like I really have time for that-- Youtuebe in hindsight is a rather interesting communications device which really could be used to help folks--once you master the technology. Hence why today my life is a sitcom. I am trying to link my blog site to Itunes so that I can have a global audience. -- The first episode of my proposed youtube show-- I need to get a title that's catchy that can easily connect to my blog is going to deal with how to react to getting stoped by the police why being young and black. Honestly, I think that would be a very good survival guide for young African American boys growing to men. Can you imagine the backlash of such a book, "Being Young Black and Male for Dummies." I think it actually has universal appeal when you think about it. On to the proposed episode:
Friday night, my younger cousin (since I am 20 years older, I call him my nephew) had the experience of seeing his friends go through a field sobriety test at the gas station on Friday night. For the purposes of comparison-- I'm 39 he's 18. I'm dressed in jeans 1/3 of a three piece suit while he has his shorts pulled down show his boxer shorts. OK -- he's 18 and lets admit it, when we were 18, all of us did some things which pretty much had our parents where did I go wrong. Aside from his obvious fashion faux pas, at the gas station I noticed two young cats (bruhs) who been unavoidably detained by three white police officers. In my truck, my neph is like I know them, they my people. I'm like sit your ass in the car cause ain't nothing can do for them right now. What does he do, he tries to text them.... I'm like now this is messed up because you going to text them while they are being frisked. For all I know, he probably was going to put them on facebook. Again-- another dumb move. Thank god in 1988 and 1989 this stuff didn't exist. So anyway as I am pumping the gas I'm keeping my eye on the situation for two reasons. The first is because the boys did seem surrounded and out numbered by the police and I wanted to offer some type of brotherly support just by my presence. (Call it the John Shaft in me) The second was to keep my eye on the police. I wanted to make sure they did their job, no more, no less. Again, all the police present, who looked like scrtom heads with their jacked up low hair cuts needed to know that somebody had their eye on them who actually had some knowledge about police procedure. What could have happened is that these young cats could have submitted a search of their car without being fully cognizant of their rights. The basic rule is that the police do not have the authority to search one's car without their consent. Without the consent, you have to have a warrant or probable cause. Teens don't know this and therefore could easily wind up on the short end of the doo doo stick without even knowing it. Getting back into the car, my nephew was like, why were you watching. I was like, there is no law stating I cannot watch the police executing their duties form a safe distance provideing I do not interfere with them doing their job. Now, if I did see something that was jacked up, I had my camera with me along with a recorder -- the I phone is a bad thing. Greatfully everything turned out safe and the only problem was the kids, new to driving, made a bad turn and they were let go. Ok that said.
Here are my suggestions -- though I am not a lawyer --and one should consult with either their own attorney or seek your state and local general statutes or codes.
1) Make sure the rear of your car is straight. This means your plates are up to date. The police drive crown victorias, dodge chargers and in some cases unmarked pursuit vehicles. In Wake County- the sheriff actually has Corvette C6 in his arsenel for high speed purists-- don't beleive me, here is a link to the story.
2) If you are pulled, especially at night. Cut off the engine and put both hands on the steering wheel in plain sight. At this point--your job is to go home safe and in one piece.
3) Keep your driving credentials all in one central location which is expected. Don't be stupid and try to get the in formation out of the glovebox while the officer is pulling you over. Wait until you are asked,
4) Do not, under any circumstances drive with anything suspicious in plain view. This would include bottles, weapons (unless you have the proper credential) baggies or anything ward cleaver would not drive with.
5) When approached keep your answers short and to the point. Officers can ask some of the dumbest questions. "Do you know why I stopped you." Chances are you know but deniability is a freebee so use it. "No sir, No ma'am." Let the officer guide the conversation -- strangely they too are human and want to go on about their business. Make it easy for them and yourself.
6) Do not become alarmed when the second car with two officers approaches. This is for the officer's safety. Please beleive it, that officer will be going home to his family-- you might, provided you play your cards right.
7) When asked, supply the officer with the requested documents. If you have a friend in the car with you. Make him or her shut up. You are the one who has been pulled by the police, not your friend. If your license is out of date, just own it. When you go to court and show the new license, it's a wrap.
8) The officer will more than likely return to his vehicle and preform a local and federal warrants check while issuing you the citation if any. At this time be calm.
9) When he comes back--in the event there is some outstanding paper-- be smart. Get out of the vehicle and have your friend call your nearest bail bondsman-- in the event, you are free to go. Thank the officer and be on your way.

common sense prevails. on the street, the police officer is the law--in the court room-- the judge is the law

This is a test of a video podcast

Note the video is old but if it works then expect more things to come

Being Grounded

Before anyone even thinks about it--no I have not been grounded by anyone in my family, especially at the age of 39. However, I have been grounded by my academic advisor. For those who don't quite understand what I am talking about, please allow me to put this into better terms. There was this ABD fellowship program in Washington State University which had all expenses paid and even offered a $3000.00 stipend...This would look good on my CV--however, after sharing my desire to take such an academic junket, she pretty much got parentalistic with me. Russell, you have 12 interviews and transcriptions you have to complete. You are a PhD candidate which means this entire summer needs to be focused on your research.... DAMN! There goes my trip to Spain-- well that was kinda off anyway being that all my money has been funneled in directions I prefer not. Ok, when I think about it-- I've come this far - why do something completely foolish and not finish... This past week I also had a visit with one of my two therapist. The one thing one learns in transitions like mine is this: it takes a fool to learn. Though I like the Spinners, their music is bittersweet to me because it brings back the bad memories of my own parents breakup. Note to anyone who is listening or reading... If you have to go through a transition of this nature: Rule number 1 avoid lawyers at all costs. I mean lawyers are a part of the process but when you really think about it, lawyers really are nothing more than MMA fighters with credentials who fight in the cages of the court system. When I think about our wedding, (which incidentally our anniversary is today) we spent $7500.00 on the wedding. We have yet to sign anything which formally and legally separates us and combined we have spent $12000.00 already. Sitting on the couch of my white liberal therapist, I just had to confess dropping the F bomb, I feel like such a F---ing fool. $12000.00 we have spent which had we actually kept up with marriage therapy would only have been a 10th of the cost. Rule number 2 do everything you have to do to save the marriage. Separation doesn't always equal divorce. Don't get it twisted, there are some just straight up deal breakers out there, assault, rape, chemical dependency. Those are real deal breakers. The isht that was happening in my circle of chaos really isn't worth a $20,000.00 divorce. The parts of our marriage and I have no problem admitting my short comings-I failed really to look at marriage as a business in some respects. Now to be fair, i will not mention my spouse's issues because it wouldn't be fair. But a good quote from one of my favorite play's Neil Simon's The Odd Couple, Oscar tells Felix it takes two to have a bad marriage. Rule number 3--listen. Listening doesn't always mean affirmation but it means being critical of information and preceptive of your spouse. Not everything is going to always jibe and be in perfect harmony. In those situations the one adage which holds true is this: if momma ain't happy, nobody's happy. In our heart of hearts, we fellas want to be right. Its the competitive nature in us. Its our beautiful nightmare which can really kick us in the ass. I mean after leaving my attorney's office feeling fairly confident that she had done her job and we would prevail on all counts in the case, I was like wait a min here. Is being right really worth it. Damn I'm right, I won't but damn if I feel good about it. Rule number 4: children are the center of your marriage. Every decision should be guided by one's child. It took me sitting at barnes and nobel drinking a latte when the sprit of my Grandfather walked through the door and just stared at me. Note my grandfather is among the dearly departed however, I am one who believes in the idea of the Roho's-- sprits or haints who show up when you least expect it and in their way, come back to check on you or put you in check. In this case I was sitting at a table and the door just blew open and stayed open. I know there is some scientific explanation for it due to air pressure and a windy day, but I have always been one who is psychically and spiritually connected and I interpreted that as a sign that my grandfather was not happy with my behavior. Rule number 5: Love is not a state of mind or a state of the heart, Love is a state of organized chaos which we willingly go into. When you love someone, you will do some crazy things. You will go to Europe with no money, You will take a lot of crap, One will put themselves in some crazy situations because they love their partner or spouse. Love and marriage are two different things. Marriage is a business and truism 886 states no romance without finance. Seriously, when the money is funny, aint a damn thing funny. Sex like cable television, your cell phone, can easily get cut off when the money isn't right. I mean brothers could be archetypical, I mean sexual gymnasts getting 10s every night, but when that check ain't there, your sexual privileges are subject to a 90 day suspension. This of course when non married couples re-evaluate their relationships where as married couples (in many cases the wife takes the kids--go watch Love Jones-) take a hiatus from the marriage. Now the K9 in many of us brothers initially will old up the peace sign and say alright, I got some time . I can go vibe for a while and have these indiscreet relations. Mind you that's the wolf in us. After four days, we then say OK, enough playing come on back home. She does and then proceeds to pack your bags and you leave the house. To alleviate this, rule number six, have two finicial plans. One for the house and one for the emergency kickout. In nearly every marriage at least once, the brother is going to be on the outside of the door without a key. Have a back up stash to keep yourself ready for hose just incase moments.
Ok I am sleepy now-- in the words of casey casem, keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars..

Time Out

At the risk of sounding like a race monger -- the term time out is a white thing. Timeout during the discipline process in middle to lower class black households, at least to me meant where the parent takes a time out from beating your ass. I recall one of the top ten beatings I got as a pre-teen. Report card day fall 1982. Coming home on the school bus, me and my best friend were comparing grades.. and it was like the countdown to Armageddon. He was like dude you might as well just give your Atari to me cause I don't think you going to be using it for a while. I was in denial; complete denial. I figured that ma would be pleased with my two Fs and one D because I played football during the fall. I think the grades were like this -- Math F, Science F, English D, Social Studies B, Physical Education/Health B, and Orchestra A. I was kinda pleased with myself.... Lord, what was I smoking, drinking, sniffing, or inhaling. When I got to the house, I got in at about 2:50 and turned on the TV. The first phone call comes from my Aunt who is wanting to know about my report card. I give her the news and she has a different view than me. "Do you know your mom is going to kill you?" Again, denial kicks in. I offer that football took up most of my time. 3:45, mom walks in all proud. You got your report card? (Note: this was obviously an icebreaker because she taught in the school system where I went to school of course she knew I got my report card) Yeah I got it, I think I did pretty good considering I played football this semester. I hand her the envelope and I see the contortions in my mom's face. She had on a Cheryl Teigs blouse and a long black skirt. What in the world is this? What are you doing with two Fs and a D? -- My response, I don't know how they got there myself. I tried real hard in those classes but I just don't think the teachers like me. The teachers I was accusing social bias included Mrs. Mekenna (math) Mrs. Allen (science) and Mrs. Blank (English) all of whom were white and I am sure were in some of the same classes Moses. I'm going to your principle cause this just doesn't seem right. From my mother's perspective, how could her son who scored in the superior/borderline very superior category of the IQ test make grades like these. One thing to remember, sons in the eyes of their mothers can do no wrong at least up to age 12. So while my mom is driving her camaro to my Jr high school, my aunt shows up to assess the situation. I don't believe it she says. Neither can I-- deniability is a good thing up to a point. At about 4:30 the phone rings. Its my vice principal calling with my mom also on the phone. Tick tick tick. I just hear the clock ticking on the bomb cause my world is about to get blown completely up. I remember the VP saying something about me misleading my mother, and I remember my mother saying we would discuss this matter further when she returned home. Mind you the vice principal was also white so it was safe to conclude that my mom was speaking in the tongue of the educator and concerned parent. Sub titles would be so appropriate at this moment because the sub script would read something like this--"send your soul to heaven because your black ass is mine!" At 4:47 the invisible timer hit 00:00 because that's when mom descended. She came through the door, took off her pumps, put on some dingy white and blue nikes in her long skirt and blouse. Went to the nearest tree which had the freshest green branches rolled back in the house and said, "I'm not beating on any new clothes I just bought! Take off them jeans!" I have never seen a woman move so fast in a long skirt.. Where I ran, it was like she teleported. After the switches broke and I still had yet to cry, she got my belt. She was a little out of breath so she took a time out. My aunt, who was there to observe the whole thing was no advocate at all, she was more like the referee in a wrestling match. After mom got her breath back it was like round two. She broke out the heavy artillery, the shoe. Still no tears.. My aunt was like boy you better start crying for you give your mother a heart attack. I'm going to give her a heart attack? I'm the one catching this monstrous ass whipping and you are concerned about her cardiovascular health? I'd say she was doing pretty damn good. But strangely when my aunt threw the guilt trip on me, I finally decided that I needed to at least fake crying cause I didn't want my mom to have a heart attack.
After I hollered like the world was coming to an end of course we all know the classic lines that follow--stop all that crying for I give you something to cry about. Of course I lost my atari privileges, my other aunt came and repo-ed my violin and threatened to repo my hamster. But that was only the beginning. My business got put on to the damn family pipeline and North South East and West.... Of course the irony now is that I'm completing a PhD and I have a son to throw all the same stuff back on me.....But at least he has time out.

On Parenting

The one thing I cannot stand is how the black bourgeois assault the image of the the Black Father. It just really makes me physically ill. Tonight I did dad thing, which really is every night I have the 37lb boss man. What is the dad thing. Plead with my boy to eat his veggies, at 6:30, allow him some time to watch Nick Jr. (that's at 7:15) get him to the bath by 8:30, read the bedtime stories by 8:45, and tuck him in by 9:00PM. That said, three year olds are very detailed at bed time. Mine, oh he is highly aware of his last eats before he goes to bed. He must have, chocolate milk. Ok, thinking that the chocolate milk would seal the deal, oh no, he then sees the Ritz crackers, of which he must have at least an entire stack. This is where my life becomes a sitcom. He starts to grab the crackers and I'm like wait a second, you said you just wanted chocolate milk. Yes daddy I know but I have to have something to go with the milk don't I? Needless to say this sparked a minor debate, where he folded his arms and put his yellow tail on the floor with his back to the fridge saying nope. Okay-- I breath in and breath out and ask him is this is final decision. Needless to say he starts the silent treatment. Now when my back is turned this little boy tries to just take the crackers, the ski mask way. This is when I then become my parents circa 1970something. I know you didn't just do what I saw you do. -- In hindsight that possibly was one of the dumbest questions I asked for the week because I think I was just dumbfounded that he just overtly defied me. Damn. I can't get too angry --because really it's nothing to get bent out of shape about, but at the same time, I have to put the "mutiny" down. I pick up the boy, take the crackers and we head right upstairs. It's about 9:12PM when war has officially been declared. With boy hoisted over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he is literally kicking and screaming because he knows in his heart, dad's hip to the game. See this is what is more commonly known as give the inch, prepare to build an interstate. This really wasn't about the cracker, not even the chocolate milk, but more so about him extending his Nick Jr time. This boy of mine is a closet Machiavellian, the ends will justify the means. I am kinda impressed but I really can't let him know that because then he'll think he's running things. Crying at full blast, making a run to the door saying I'm hungry I'm hungry I'm like if you don't put that little rusty butt to that bed. -- Still more negative feedback-- now back in 1970something this is where the long white belt would just show up like pootytang my dad would have marked a damn Z in my back like Zorro. The white belt, the switch (especially the green ones) and the paddle would end all negative feed back and insure immediate compliance. But remember-- that was then, and this is now. This is the negotiating age for toddlers where we try to constructively defuse matters of this type. I know, right. But damn if were even to think about in house corporal punishment, you might want to have a defense attorney on standby. Anyway after I got him to calm down-- see i have learned how to use my voice like Mufassa the lion, I think he got the point he was fighting a loosing battle. But don't get it twisted, he didn't go down without a fight. At about 9:30, homeslice comes down the stairs saying Daddy I want you to go to sleep with me. Again, logic and reason are tested, the result -- boy take yourself back to bed. But daddy I need you. This is where the pick and choose the battles thing comes to mind. Fine, if it means he goes to bed in the 9:00 hour, lets compromise. So he's in the bed, I'm on the sofa and he is singing hey diddle diddle. Then a light comes on and he sees it.. Daddy, Daddy, the light came on, I have to go see what's going on.. It's here where my late grandfather GW is channled through me I hear myself saying- Boy if you don't put your butt back in that bed. Ain't nothing down there for you to see. If something is down there you better keep your but up here so what ever it is don't hurt you. He was quick to get to the door knob, but I think he finally got the point, keep you little yellow tail in the bed. By 9:45 he finally was snoring off. Parenting in 21st century-- Man, I am so glad I didn't do this when I was 20soething.

The Winds of Transition and Epiphanies

Today I had an interaction with the boy which to me was more like an epiphany.
Today-we got off to a little late start due to the fact we had to help a friend with an errand last night. This morning when the boy wanted a cracker and didn't ask for it in diplomatic way, he began to push me-then swing. This of course required me putting him in a time out. One of the things I am learning as a parent is that violence only begets more violence and I really don't want to teach that to him.. just because my generation got lit up doesn't mean I have to cary on the family business.

After he calmed down and understood why I put him in time out, we talked and I heard him say some things to me which actually were quite profound for someone at 3.5 years of age. From my perspective de chief appears to be frustrated and unfortunately, the only way he really knows how to express his angst, is basically through physical tantrums. Looking through--and honestly, it takes a lot to look through an action as opposed to seeing the action, I asked why was he upset beyond his immediate want for the crackers. The answer I got floored me.

His world was disrupted and guess who the chief disrupters were: I now pronounce you man and wife. We were doing him a gross disservice as parents and unfortunately it's being manifested through his behavior. There are at least three levels why a child would be discombobulated--
1) I think the going back and forth from one residence to the other is a factor.
2) The fact that he doesn't see both his of his parents and his dog in the place he calls home represents factor number 2.
3) The obvious negativity he is exposed to from both sides is bleeding into his world-- to be honest, its the equivilant of injecting someone with battery acid (I got that from the film the Mack)

Children in the midst of transitions such as these deserve so much better than what parents do-including myself in that group. Kids should not have to pay for parental transgressions and guess what, that is exactly what happens day in and day out. Realizing this, I became disgusted with myself because I as son's dad allowed that to happen. Kids, God willing, one day will get older and eventually begin to ask some serious questions. Parents on the whole will look pretty damn stupid having to answer for some of the most ignorant and self destructive behavior they choose to engaged in.

Daddy, mommy (or someone in your family) says you didn't value us by purchasing food--is it true you didn't buy us any food?
Mommy, daddy (or someone in my family) says that you threw daddy out of the house because he hit you--is it true, did daddy hit you, did he hit me?

These types of question are only the beginning and the reason I know is because I can speak from first hand experience. I asked my dad questions like those when I was 33 and I am sure it hit him like a brick. I posed similar questions like this to my mom when I was 17 and she was stunned.

The chief person any parent should look to for respect and validation believe it are their children. Sadly, parents, if they don't choose to address these matters with sensitivity, run the risk of becoming viral, acting offensively engaging in tactics which are just plain obscene.

Maybe people make the wrong decision getting married. This could equate to why there will always be the need for divorce lawyers. Maybe people are unsure about marriage after the deed is done, which to could attribute the need for marriage counselors. Regardless, when two become three, the two take a backseat to the needs of the one or two or even three. Inextricably linked for life is the bottom line. How people choose to live within that link is entirely up to them. It can be healthy or it can be toxic.

Model Citizens?

Last night, I like many other folks found myself watching the historic healthcare bill become a law. I mean I couldn't believe I found myself watching C-Span like it was an episode of Dallas-which pretty much had all the drama. Watching the entire thing I kept thinking about school house rock -- the episode where the bill becomes a law..
Driving home thinking about how some of the neocons on the radio were just like frickin loosing it.. It was ridiculous. But I think what I found most disgusting was the behavior of some of these white folks who just behaved so despicably during the whole process. I mean it was just simply boorish and obscene.
And then the shock of the night-- the baby killer business
Is this what I was taught in my civics classes?

We All Need The Human Touch

Ok this my rant for the day. I am taking a slight study break because of the distraction that walked into the book store where I am trying to revise my dissertation... In this high tech age in which we are supposed to be so connected -- I find it to be the ultimate paradox. By that, I find that we are becoming so technology dependent that somehow, the technology still has yet to prove to be the ultimate icebreaker. I mean lets face it, one would think that in this day and age of the Iphone, the Black/Blue Berry, the instant messaging, twitter, facebook et al, there still is a failure to communicate. For real. You would think that with this -- spy tech-- there I said it, because that what it all boils down to anyway, one would be able to use their PDA-another TLA in the 21st century and be able to to on the low, say hello to that person in the room who is come 40 feet away from you. It was funny because I was trying to look on my trusty I phone for the app that might share with me whom I am in the room with. From there, go go ahead and send a quick shout out well not a shout out but a Lionel Ritchie... But no such luck. That app to my knowledge, does not exist. I could be wrong but I don't think its out there-- Not that I am advocating anyone stepping out of their marriage, cause I think marriage is something that is scarred, spiritual, and of course a legally binding contract. Trust me, I along with a few of my boys walked the last mile. The day I said I do, was the day that my "player credentials" expired. That said, in my season of transition, though I am legally contractually obligated, I ain't blind and truth be know I am not an insensitive one who can simply dismiss nine to ten years intimate feelings I shared and to some degree still share with whom shall remain nameless. See I am exhibiting some type of discretion :). That said, back to the problem, we all need the human touch, especially me. Now before anyone starts going into the depths of their mind which are uninhibited, allow me to clarify my position. The human touch in this case, to me represents at least face to face communication. The nonverbal sub cues that affirm our existence at the same time challenge us to be introspective, reflexive. The human touch comes in many forms, when the tear from one's pain hits the shoulder of someone who is there to care for us or listen. It can come in the form of that dap that brothers give to say "yo dude, I got you." And for the record, brothers we need to dissociate ourselves from this notion not being able to love each other as one loves them-self. I think there's some Christianity rooted in there somewhere. That connectivity that requires us to unplug ourselves from the grid and emote. That place where it's ok to let the defenses down, stop being so damn hard all the damn time. Life is hard enough--I'm not a student of physics, but I do know what happens when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force--you guessed it, in the immortal words of the great philosopher Laurance Teuraud aka MR. T aka Clubber Lang, PAIN! One is headed for a collision, NOT an accident. Not knowing, the position of miss-educated, that's the grounds for an accident. But being hardheaded isn't an accident, it's just being foolish which in turn translates into an ass whipping. So consider yourselves warned. I guess I am learning that lesson day in and day out. Not as a result of my season of transition, but more so just in general. Being "hard" or fronting the "cool pose" sets one up for isolation... This isolation in turn could be the reason why we as a generation have become so technology dependent. No one likes to feel--at least the negative side of emotion, the negative consequence of risk--hence why some of us may rely on tools like facebook or myspace. If I don't like you, I simply unfriend you, which in essence is nothing more than dismissal from one's social network. I'm laughing because I can imagine Robert DeNerio or Joe Peschi hell even Al Pachino saying you unfriended me! Who da-- do you think you talking to. You gona unfriend me! No if you want to unfriend me, you meet me in BLANKING person and unfriend me, you MFer you. -- I am trying hard not to bust out laughing but the concept to me is just unfathomable. We become BFFs in the world of Facebook and then I piss you off and you unfriend me. --I persnally think FaceBook, MySpace and other social networking sites should make their users, who choose to unfriend one of their friends send them a three page letter, certified mail, explaining the reasons why they have chosen to make the decision to "unfriend" somebody. Geesh

Opportunity Trumps Everything

To me that is running for statement of the year. I had cocktails with a former professor from my undergraduate years and well lets just say things are different now that I am only a few months away from completing my PhD. Well that's the target I have given myself. I am shooting to have everything complete by July 27, 2010. I will be 40 and will hopefully have completed one of the major academic achievements in my life.. In my conversation with whom I consider my version of Obi Wan Kenobi, he told me that with all the isht going on in my immediate sphere of consciousness will evaporate once I complete the PhD. It's funny because I can here him saying "use the force luke." Within the context of our conversation he made this one quote which has just resonated with me, Opportunity Trumps Everything. When I sat back and absorbed the words, I mean really let the words soak in, I had to start laughing because he spoke the truth. Lets think about it for a second. His analogy was this, if there was a big bag of money, I mean billions of dollars that were untraceable, and it just was thrown at our feet, what would we do? Now I couldn't cart off a billion dollars in broad daylight let alone night time cause that type of cash is physically heavy. But please believe, where there is a way, there is a will. Logic be damned, a cool billion some how would be up in my truck and I would be driving off to somewhere Seville Spain. Seriously, if one could get away with one crime in life, just one transgression, would one do it. To me it is the ultimate test of morality. Like he said, opportunity trumps everything. There has been many a day where I just wanted to go back to all the people whom have wronged me one way or another and exact what I felt was justifiable equalizing. Now that I think about it, I do remember an oldie but a goodie. This goes back to my days with one particular lilliputian white folk female who use to be my supervisor. I was working in what I consider one of the seven hells. I was just recovering from a serious emotional crisis which had me just frazzled. I mean I needed a complete brain dump just to go back to work with this crazy folk. Already coming back into the office after what I had gone through was a feat in and of itself. I mean I had to come back to work drugged up just to do my job. Now this person knew I was emotionally fragile, I mean the very site of this person nauseated me. I remember saying to myself, that's that woman's car, it would look good on fire, preferably with her in it... Needless to say she was not invited to my wedding and I was not invited to her 50th birthday party. Anyway, knowing my state of fragility this crazy woman basically taunted me. I think the goal was to somehow finish the job of firing me on her terms, preferably with me in handcuffs being escorted out by the police.. Here is where opportunity trumps everything. Turns out in the state of North Carolina it is considered assault if you point your finger at another individual in a threatening/hostile manner. Threatening/hostile manner really is something based purely in subjectivity. Me being the subject, well I felt threatened by her hostile behavior. So as opposed to doing what she wanted me to do, which was assault her back-- I mean, deliver a certified asswhippin-- you know the type, come on down cause you the next contestant on catch the beatdown- asswhippin, I didn't take the law into my own hands.. I put the law on her-- translation, I took out a warrant for her arrest. That was an empowering moment for me I have to say because I then reclaimed my power, my sense of identity, my sense of self efficacy. I was so proud of myself for taking a hardline- using the tools of the dominant other against the dominator. I went out that same night with my then fiancee and fired up the biggest cigar I could buy. That said my immediate family is from the old school and were like-- you take those papers back!!!!!!
I was like you kiddin, here is the opportunity to finally put this itch to rest and you want me to let her go. The funny thing was that when I had to meet with the vice president of the school, the chief of security, and the director of human resources,--all whom were white folk, they were astonished. I mean the their white skin turned bone white. I remember saying to them, you didn't take me seriously. I asked you politely, to remedy the situation and you chose to ignore it. So because all of you at this table chose the course being aloof I had to remedy the situation my damn self. I think one of them said, we're listening now. Again, false empathy is something no human should have to endure. it was then where I remember uttering the words of John Singleton's character in the film higher learning..."That remains to be seen.."

Domestic Violence and the Double Standard

I really shouldn't be writing this because I need to re-write my methodology section so that it reflects media ethnography. That's on my list of things to do today. But as I said, yesterday was a pretty rough day. I feel almost like I am in a Will Smith drama. Good thing for me is that I am short so there is no chance that he would ever portray me or my likeness :-). On to my rant for the day. Yesterday I was frenetic-so much to the point where I had to really step back and take a serious accounting of what has happened to me and how to cope and also seek some type of accountability (right now the word seems so absurd). As I said before, for a woman in the state of North Carolina to obtain a DVPO, it's the equivalent of going to Wendy's and ordering a biggie burger, shake, and fries. Again, I want to state that yes, there is a need for domestic violence laws and I am a strong supporter of feminism. That said, I have to say there is a serious double standard within this system which really is stacked up against males, particularly African American males who are abandoned at the margins of the system of American Apartheid. Yes as I write this we do have an African American president and that's great but still, that represents only a drop in the bucket in the face of 400 years of physical, psychic, educational, civic, and political trauma. There I said it!
Looking at the structure of the DV court system, lets start from the ground up. As I said, my friend who will remain nameless, pretty much got shafted and drug into the court system--falsely I add. So after all is hashed out, he was able to obtain a lawyer and for the low low price of $3000.00 dollars he was able to escape being placed in the electronic plantation know as the domestic violence offenders list. But lets say my friend didn't have the access to money, education, psychotherapy, spirituality, or even interpersonal communicative skills. The outcome would have been drastically different. At the civil level, the intake coordinator is a woman. The agent of law enforcement (in this case the deputy sheriff) is a woman. With two strikes against one already, here comes strike number three. Both of these women are white. This translates into being SOL. When the woman does appear in front of a judge, unfortunately most judges in DV court are older southern white men who bring with them there personal biases and subjectivities. As a disclaimer, I can only speak about Durham County because this is where my friend is located and having gone to court with him on quite a few occasions, these are are strictly my observations. When the judge decided yea or nea to grant the protective order it's comical. The judge, who may have more wrinkles than Yoda, briefly looks over over the paperwork; I'd say three minutes at most. In the most southern of southern drawls, he will say, ma'am, you don't want him to come to your home, you don't want him to come to your job, you don't want him go to where your kids go to school, you don't want him to talk to your family, you don't want him to talk to you at all. Ok granted. That's how it happens. Then the real fun begins. Our hypothetical friend is then served. The first thing he's probably going to do is get mad. I mean really mad because there is nothing more embarrassing than having the police knock on your door at night, or have them come to your job and officially serving your. Honestly, that isht can bring on some emotional and physical changes that would make the weakest crackhead obtain "that gamma radiation like strength." So, already emotionally charged, guess what the next move is going to be. He calls the one who put the papers out on him. Not too smart; our hypothetical friend has in essence, strapped himself to the chair while the bomb is ticking. Why, because the papers explicitly said, do not contact this person. But it's too late for that; emotionally charged, our friend who is already broken the law by communicating with her, is not calling to assuage any misstep or alleged wrong doing. In normal everyday parlance, he's calling because he wants to put his foot to that (you fill in the three letter word that is most appropriate). A phone call later, our same friend, now has a warrant out for his arrest on two criminal charges, 1) this person violated the DVPO and 2) he communicated a threat. So now our friend who is presumed guilty until proven innocent now is a fugitive. Welcome to the orange jumpsuit brigade because if he's doesn't have the money for bail--lets just say he's won free room and board until his case comes up at the house of many doors. Solutions to this problem-- one, civil DVPOs just can't given out like trick or treat candy. In cases where there are obvious criminal infractions--like physical assault, rape, battery yes with all do deliberate speed, move to get these people off the street, into some therapy, monitoring and we hope that that the offender will not make the same mistake. But in cases where it is a civil matter, the burden of proof must be higher before law enforcement should intervene. To me, for one to make an allegation--results to nothing more than hearsay and of course hearsay isn't admissible in the court of law. There needs to be some evidence, police reports of domestic disturbance, medical documentation of abuse, psych evals, video evidence, photos. That in my mind represents hard tangible evidence which can be used to make legitimate decisions about someone's limited movement. In essence, that's all those papers do anyway control movement. But again as demonstrated, paper is only paper.

Unfortunately I have a talent

I have an uncany talent for reading faces and emotion. Like rt now I am in barnes and noble and I am looking at this woman who is in deep contemplation. Then I see the a typical soccer mom with her two teenage kids. You know some times I think people just come here for the anonimity at least that's why I am here. JR and I came here for our father son cookie night and his mother shows up out of nowhere. I just feel that she just intruded so much on our time. Maybe I am just venting a little too much. It's been a rough week and it's only Tuesday. Within this transitional time in my life I can't seem to move forward. Today was suppose to be the day where the gears would start to turn but no there is another logjam. I was so annoyed and angry today. Luckily I caught myself and just said control only what I can control. So I calmed down and ran five miles. By that time I had cleared my head only to have it disrupted. Boundaries I think is key and I just feel my boundaries have been respected. Finding out my belongings were placed in storage without my consent, prolonging the inevitable, and then intruding on my time with JR- it's just been a rough day.

Meetings w- The Cabinet

Today I talked with Shrink #2, this is the one who dispenses my medications.. I told him of the latest in my saga/mini series of transition and all he could do was shake his head. I had to tell him the simple truth, I AM TIRED. I mean I am mentally and physically drained. I thought would have time to actually write some meaning monologue but instead it looks like I will be engaging in some superfluous isht. Transition is a hard thing to do, especially when you feel like you are running on empty. I had to tell, my trusted white doctor-who incidentally I pay an inordinate amount of money to-- that man I am just woe out. I explained that one in my cabinet said, you are getting tired at mile two of 26 mile marathon. With other members of my executive cabinet, of course their reaction was FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION. Sorry, I had to yawn. I had to take a little time to play some acoustical guitar on Itunes. For some reason that type of music relaxes me. Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer. Some reason I feel that song is well suited for my world right now..These are the moments where I actually allow myself a little time to wallow in the pool of self pity and mask the tears I have. I think that could be the reason why I went to the gym today. I had a week with little JR and to hear the innocence in his voice.. well it really just reminded me of what I really don't want for him. I don't like the fact that my home is somewhat fractured and he and aspen are caught in the middle. Thinking about what I am living with, as Shrink #1-the white man I pay inordinate amounts of money to to keep me focused during this transition-- I consider him pretty much my handler. He tells me that you must take the high road during this entire point of crisis. He says this is my personal cross I have to bare. There are sometimes I remind myself i asked for some of this but damn if I asked for there to be some type of emotional collision. They say there are no guarantees. I would love to actually find this "They" party and call them on some of the isht that has been going on in my sphere of what i consider reality. I mean this is some hard stuff I am going through.. Again another member in my cabinet, the Sectary of State tells me that damn it we are 40, this is what is supposed to happen at 40. The national security director is like bruh you gotta suck it up. Of it is hear where the Sectary of State says I am too cerebral. I feel kinda bad because I haven't called in the Vice President on this matter. I really came here (Barnes and Noble) to actually engage in some type of research on my dissertation but right now I feel that with the combination of me being tired and really just bummed out my ability to focus just aint happening right now. I got 6 months. I got six months to finish my dissertation so I can be called Doctor. Six months until I can go walk into any college campus and have them address me as Dr. William Russell Robinson. I guess the way it has to happen is that once I get the piece of paper, I then get the money, then I get the power, then I get the respect. -- OK so I lifted the line from Scarface, but thinking about things in the grand scheme-- I gotta make some things happen. I mean I have got to make the required money needed to support myself. JR and even my wife (regardless of status). I just think that is the right thing to do. So in essence I need to make a serious grip-- 100K easy. Some nebulous news occurred this week. I got a note from the department head of English and Mass Communications. He wants to meet with me. If I can crack that particular nut, I will be able to get the first 50K.. Then the other part I have to get my hustle on on the real...

Discipline and Punish: a different spin

The 37lb boss man decided to show me who was boss this morning. The boy took me to tantrum town. I felt like cool hand Luke going up against the man with no eyes. It was like he said mercy is for the weak! we do not train to be merciful here. I can understand part of it. Transition is hard on everybody. Part of me thinks that a lot of the acting out is linked to his furstration that things aren't as they were. I know when I was a little bit older than him and something like this happened when I was eight, I escaped reality through television. There was not a tv show I did not watch up until my bedtime. I think that solidified my place as one who would have a strong tie to media. I guess a positive side effect was that I gained an excelerated vocabulary. Of course the big minus was that I never did my homework. Which up until high school, I was a marginal student. When I got to high school I had to confess to my mother that I had never read a book in my 14 years on the planet. That's a heavy confession I made rt before we moved to Tennessee. When we got to Knoxville, my English grades were so horrific that I was place in remedial (now developmental) English. However when my placement scores finally arrived it was discovered that I needed to be in excelerated English. As far as I was concerned, it wasn't too soon as I think I was starting g to piss off my classmates by answering all the questions in class. Needless to say I got in my first and only fight in highschool. Brains or no brains the homosexual teacher of our class promptly took his two fighting Negro students off to the principle of vice. Note I did not say vice principal but princeable of vice because all he did keep the out of line students in order. It didn't help matters much that he was the baseball coach who played minor leauge ball. I remember him asking us, I can call your parents and we can wait for them to get here or I can handle this my way and get you boys back off to class. To me it was a no brainer, if the mom has to be called out of her graduate level class then I would catch double jeopardy. Needless to say took The Board of Education for 200. That man could throw a damn paddle. He made us empty our pockets and spread our hands on the desk. After two good hits, I knew that I would not be a repeat offender. I mean taking wood with this other kid was for him I'm sure gratifying because here was the "little professor" getting his ass popped. I could take it, I didn't flintch. I'm not going to say I didn't feel it. But I didn't flintch neither. I guess the bottom line is this. Disciple of children must start at home so that redneck baseball coach doesn't get in office batting practice.

Being a Dad

There are moments where I could let the worst of my situation just get the best of me. But to kiss my son good night and have him tell me he loves me puts everything in perspective. Right now I am watching him do what used to do, he's in his bed playing with one of his favoriate toys. Actually he got it when he went to the circus with his grand parrents. Looking at him and seeing him grow up and listening to his expanded vocabulary is well it's a real rush. I see him with his eyes wide open while I in contrast live with my eyes wide shut. Being a dad, particullary under the present dynamic has it challenges. There are some well many days I find myself waking up with fear. Am I doing this parenting job right. Am I a good model for him? Will his needs be met? I was told by one of the shrinks I see that apparently this is the cross I have to carry. Not only do I have to be a dad, I have to be a single dad. See in my case and I am sure with other brothers who may read my superflous ode to BS somedays, they too didn't have the model of dad in the house. I mean as there was the Cosby Show which provided examples of the model two parrent household. But rarely was there an example for the single parrent household. For some reason it was seen as taboo. Tv regretably perhaps is an agent of social construction. People look to it for idendity-shapping what have you. I kinda now wish there was a show that provided a blueprint for bow to raise an African American boy by a single African American dad. As much as I liked Sanford and Son you never saw the father/son development over the years. How am I going to do this-be
a model dad to my son? I am so nervous because the consequences for failue are eponentially high. If I wasn't before I am now: standing in the need of prayer.

Psychic and Symbolic Assaults Of The Mind

Where do I begin? Its only 11:00 and already I am like shook. I mean my day is really shook. In the most innocuous of places, I would never expect to be subject the the ill of the most ill type of White Folk, the fanatical white folk. I was going to dicks sporting goods today because I needed another pair of compression shorts for running. I mean they also keep my fat legs from rubbing together and chaffing. Anyhow, I had to go the restroom. (In the process of detoxing my body to some degree-- I call it a type of spring cleaning where I go meatless for like a month and really eat more fruits and veggies and drink more water) Ok so you can put two and two together and realize that my need to go was a bit more urgent than normal. After paying for my merchandise I located the restroom and promptly took my seat. Closing the door I was face to face with a damn swastika with the caption of white power carved in the damn door. I'm going to say it because it's obvious, shitty place to be, shitty thing to see while doing my business. I had a nice bowel movement but still I was sick to my stomach because my experience, with really should be free from any politics-demoncrat, republican, libertarian, racist, liberal, racist, conservative, i really just want to do my business free from politics, free from hassles. I'm a simple man, all I need is some privacy and toilet paper. The political commentary I can really do without.
I think what had me most offended was the fact that the this went unknown in store for a number of days. I mean, you would think that somebody in the store (i.e. a store employee) would, have said something to the store management well in advance of this. What is even more frightening to me is that I could have had my son with me. Now knowing me, I would have immediately blocked so he wouldn't have to see it at the tender age of three. Then I think there is the geographic politic at work here as well. I see a symbol of hate, in a sporting goods store which sells firearms. Lets not forget I am in a southern state as well. -- Racist idiots can go from the restroom and then walk to the hunting lodge and go buy a riffle. Chalk on up for the NRA-- the Negro Removal Association. -- Granted that may be a bit dramatic and over the top however, we do live a world where high school students can go into school and shoot up the place, a socially disturbed student in college can get a handgun and go blasting on a college campus, a major, who is a psychologist in the US Army who doesn't want to go to Iraq can get his sidearm and go shoot up a military base, or a disgruntled faculty member can go in her purse, get her peace, and shoot up the place because she is denied tenure. I mean, from my prospective, in the grand scheme of things, feel this is miniscule, a grand of sand on the beach called life. But as I say that, someone has to step up and step out of line. When I brought the matter to the attention of the acting store manager, immediately he gave me the eeoc speech, Oh as a company we do not tolerate anything like this, I am so sorry, we will work to have the problem corrected. I stood there because I was stunned. I mean he did what was in his power to some degree to assuage the acute problem. I think maybe I am just highly sensitive because of the psychic and symbolic assault on my mind. I feel hypersensitive rt now just seeing white folks because now, at least for the next few hours, I am going to see that swastika, the white power caption, which is hate speech, in a quasi public/private place.

Ah ha

I knew if I gave myself time and space I would figure out a workaround for a blogger app for my I phone. It's quite funny actually because the solution was slam infront of me. I am really debating on becoming active on a facebook or myspace page. Sure you get the perks of membership but you loose your annonimity. I am plum beat. I stayed up too late last night and hit the gym this afternoon and I will pay for it I am sure.

On Reading, Madness, and Damn Foolishness

As some of you may have been able to figure out, I really haven't been able to do too much reading these days other than books related to my research. I've had to completely rehash my research methodology that had no human subjects compliance to a full blown human subjects compliant study. Eeeech! Basically that means I have to go through what is called the Institutional Review Board. This has its pros and cons. On the Pro side--research with Human Subjects has a greater chance to be published. On the flip side, human subjects are sometimes difficult to deal with because of logistics. Oh well chalk one up for Eddie Murphy's Law.
But I digress. On reading, I simply have not had the time nor the energy to focus too much on any other literature ergo I have discovered audio books. Strangely, they appeal to me much better right now simply because I can just download the book from I-Tunes and play them on the go, be it in the car, on the plane or on the treadmill. One of my friends, I'll just call him the master of the Alpha brick, said I should convert my blog into a book called the Souls of White Folk and co-author it with a colleague with whom I share the same last name. I think its a good idea provided I can break free from this one legged ass kicking contest (of which I am coming out on the loosing side these days).
The one audio book I have been left with a serious impression is titled: Madness: A Bipolar Life. The oral delivery of the text really engaged me. In thinking about the topic of mental illness I really have to come back to the question of psychology and Black Folk. For some reason, we just don't seem to get it. Lets not get it twisted, Black Folk have made it this far by the faith of God. But what we don't seem to realize is that as God, Allah, Buddha and others made everything, God, Allah, Buddha and Others, made Prozac too. This question seemed to follow me ever since I actually started psychotherapy. Some of my readers will probably say-Oh no, he actually goes to see a shrink. Yes, I must confess that I have seen a shrink (psychologist since 2001 and psychiatrist since 2006 and been taking psych drugs since 2006). Now before anyone goes out and says, "that brother is crazy!" please allow me to say he or she who is without crazy, let them be the first one to throw the first stone. Hell, we all are a little crazy. Just some more than others. Then you have those who make CNN. I think personally that those who choose not to seek help are in a serious state of denial. Hence my problem with a majority of us folk. In this season of my transition, trust me, I have been on the couch quite a few times and on one occasion, been to the ER for panic attacks twice in one week. That should let you know off the bat what type of year 2009 was for me. I have never been so happy to see a year leave. But unfortunately the remounts of 2009 had spillage into 2010 which unfortunately again had me doing the couch trip more than what I wanted.
Again, with everything that was swimming in my head, I had to get a few self help audio books and some audio books just to keep my self esteem in tact. Hence the book on Madness. Nope I don't have bipolar but still I felt the need to listen to this book because the writer was doing what I am doing now: going through. In listening to her memoir, I really had to step back and consider myself blessed in many circumstances because this person, whew she had to go through shock therapy, continuously until her mind got right-or-left. In listening to this text, I was able to see certain episodes which I experienced but just was unable, and still, somewhat unable to really articulate at this point in time. I think what just really had me and still does have me twisted is the fact that we as a population, as a culture, still see mental illness as taboo. It's like that relative we see at the family reunion (unfortunately in my family they take place at funerals) that you just don't want to see or talk about. The common response we would have to someone calling us out about our moods would be, "if I am mentally ill it's because you made me that way." I tried to get a dear close friend of mine to go to therapy because I thought that their emotions were just a weeee bit off the register. I mean it was like, I knew what the button was that would make him ackadamnfool. I could just say a particular word and this one would just bust out their clothes like their name was Bill Bixbby. What's weird about it is that they would stay mad for a week. Now that's pissed off to the highest point of pistivity. When I checked them on it, form a distance of course, I tried to explain to them the benefits of cognitive behavioral therapy infused with psychotropic medical intervention. Of course you can figure out how this conversation went. "So you going to buy me a joint!-- All I need is some weed and I can work it out right?" Needless to say I just had to leave the room, because that just kinda threw me. Joint Therapy, that's a new one. Don't get mad, just get lifted. I retuned back to him sometime latter. I put my college degrees on the shelf and in my most humble southern accent (this really was manufactured) I was like dude, look, you gotta calm down; I'm going through the mind field and you coming right behind me dribbling a damn basketball--I'm going to get through this isht, because I got a little boy to raise; the rate you going, you wake up with a stroke. Go to the doctor! Get your altitude calmed down! Needless to say, damn fool didn't want to listen. Well as they say in the UK, pay attention or pay the price.

Getting Fit--Again

Being me sometimes can have its lumps. OK hell it's not easy being me, at least these days. But again in trying to answer the challenge of one in my cabinet, I am on the quest, the mission to be in the bracket of Ph.D.s who make six figures and still have their summers off. Now to do this is going to require multiple streams of income. I mean, if I can make the first 50K, the rest should be easy. Shouldn't it? Ok well here is the challenge: you've got to use what you got to get what you want, or so the expression and song lyric goes. What do I have that makes me marketable? Strangely, I have my story, my experiences, my ability to listen, my ability to give feedback, -- ok who doesn't have those attributes? So then, the extension of that question points to the query of what makes experiences, services, and abilities to be unique and why would someone pay for them? What is my story? What is my brand. I think about that question and I go back to a book that still leaves me with inspiration today, Nathan McCall's book Makes Me Want to Holla. I remember reading that book at an extremely troubling time in my life. I was going through a grieving process and to read someone's story- who to me represented "everyday folk," going through was what really kept me on track. McCall was a former inmate who liberated himself through writing. He became a well known news paper journalist for the Atlanta Constitution and eventually went on to writing another book which chronicled race and gender through the eyes of the African American male. Believe it or not, one of the stories from his second book What's Going On, inspired my short film Elevator Music. What I took form his first book strangely was how to be assertive and still maintain what Majors and Billson refer to as Cool Pose. Please refer to my previous entry who's afraid of the big bad warewolf? So again I have to go back to the question about what I offer... Multiple streams of income is the key. My aunt says on the side I should consider becoming a certified personal trainer.. My friend says I need to stay focused finish my dissertation and farm myself out to media outlets in the country. My other friend says I need to become more linear in my thinking/methodology. Reflection and self criticism have always been one of my good points. I actually take in bits and pieces and digest what I could use and put them to work. This is what I call forward planning-plan your work, then work your plan. OK so how do we solve the conundrum where I am happy, bringing in 120K per year and still have my summers off. Someone told me the government takes off 20% from the top...
Step 1-- Location, Location, Location
Step 2--Baseline income--something needs to start coming in other than subsidy
Step 3-- Professional Income--Putting my Ph.D. to work
Step 4-- Creative income-- Telling my story -- while motivating others
Step 5-- Professional Consultation--Putting my Ph.D. to more work
Step 6-- Building my brand--What is it that makes me consistently billable
Step 7-- Make the money work for me..
Deadline to have put all this in place-- 2012 on year from now....

Domestic Violence Reform in North Carolina

DVPO--Those are the last letters anyone wants to have associated with their name. I'm not naming anyone, that said I will talk about this issue because it to me has a special place. For those who are unfamiliar the DVPO, it means Domestic Violence Protective Order: in North Carolina its called a DB50. What does it mean. Usually a DB50 is associated with some type of partnered domestic relationship in which one of the partners has committed some act of violence or child abuse within the context of a committed relationship. Note I did not say man and wife, him or her, because domestic violence is not really a problem of gender but more so a problem of lack of self efficacy or esteem. In relationships which are abusive, low self esteem and, or insecurity represent common threads. One could be in a homosexual relationship and still suffer the psychic and physical trauma of abuse. That said, I am all for statues and prompt enforcement of statutes that protect the abused, punish and treat the abuser and protect children. These are vital, essential laws which must be on the books. That said, what happens are misused and turned into weapons of mass disruption.
In the state of North Carolina, obtaining a DVPO is easier than getting a drivers license or even a handgun, particularly if you are a female. Here is a simple step by step process to get a DVPO.
1) Go to the magistrate or DVPO intake officer.
2) Fill out the DB50 form. Write any information related to abuse. Check the boxes which offer restricted movement to the alleged abuser.
3) Take it to a judge in the Domestic Violence Court.
4) It's signed and then served by the local sheriffs office.
It's that simple.
Once this is served the defendant may be ordered to leave the residence, surrender their firearms, ordered to stay away from the complainant, their family and their associates, and of course their children. The sad thing about the DVPO is that one is considered guilty until they are proven innocent. Time and the judicial system is an interesting thing here because technically the case must be heard within 10 days from the issuance of a complaint. However, there is nothing that prohibits one from obtaining what is called a motion for continuance. Motions can usually go for an additional two weeks. This of course forces the alleged assailant out of their home for an additional 14 days. Of course if there is a lawyer involved it can be extended for another period of time due to that lawyer's schedule. No where in any of this has any physical evidence been issued against the defendant. The defendant is basically penalized as they forcibly removed by the legal system out of doors. To me this salient if there is a criminal DVPO as opposed to a CIVIL DVPO... There in lies the rub. In criminal matter, there usually is an arrest and there is usually a hospital accounting of some type of abuse. But in civil matter, it's all just a matter of interpretation by the complainant and the presiding judge. How much does it cost to successfully launch a defense against these types of charges? For the low low price of 1500 to 3000 dollars your name can be cleared. If you don't have it, oh well there is no court appointed lawyer so have to defend yourself. Trust me, going to court without a lawyer and the other party has one, is like going up against Bruce Lee with your hands tied behind your back. Lawyers have the equivalent black belts in the courtroom dojo. Of course everyone is innocent until they are proven guilty right? If you don't have a lawyer, welcome to the world of DVPO hell. You are then basically on probation with the same stipulations of which you were living under previously and you of course get a chance to (well ordered to) go to domestic violence offender classes, which you do have to pay for and you are ordered for a year to have no contact.... To me something is wrong with this process. Not that I went through it, but I do have a little familiarity with it and I'll just say, money is a big factor here. If you have it, you have a chance of getting cleared. If not, well you have a chance, like the snowball in hell. Its time for someone to step up and step the hell out of line and call for an end to the BS of NCs DVPO..

Black on the Block

I've been away for a while due to some circumstances beyond and within my control. Its a dichotomous I know but trust me, it's this thing called life. Some basic updates:
1) I have finally hit Ph.D. candidacy status!!!! This translates into being what is called ABD, all but dissertation or All But Dead..
2) I am going through some personal issues that I really can't talk that much about due to the sensitive nature of the topic. Just know that I am breathing taking days one day at the time.
3) My research focus will change a bit. I am going to add the topic of Black Male Abuses. Please understand that this is not to by any means disavow brothers of our innate inherent responsibilities, but it is intended launch another layer to my discourse--not only show men, brothers in particular are abused in the legal system, but also a means as to become one's own advocate.
4) Fitness: Without one's health and strength, one has nothing. I believed this then and I believe now so a portion of this blog will also address my fitness walk--not just physical, but psychic, economic and political.
So in essence the new year has brought new topics and challenges to be explored. Lets not forget, the Ph.D. is most important as well as being billable as one of my friends says.
The challenge that was issued to me was can I use my Ph.D. to have a six figure salary and still have my summers off. Mind you this comes from one who has their Ph.D. who makes six figures but does not have their summers off. When someone issues me a serious challenge to me, I never back down, and 9 times out of ten, do everything I can--probably out of pure defiance-- to prove them wrong. So that's the goal!!!!!!!!
I want to take time to thank those who have helped me during my time of crisis I look forward to paying it forward..And now for the picture of the week.... For those who didn't believe I actually flew back and forth to DC on a regular basis, well here is the proof. This picture was taken on my flight to DC to defend my dissertation proposal. Enjoy!!!!!