Racism and Where I Have Come From

I posted a mini rant from a friend on Facebook today which garnered a lot of attention, which I was not expecting. It wasn’t long before I was smack dab I the middle of a white vs. black perspective debate on racism. From where I was sitting, I could see and understand both viewpoints. Though, at one point I became more interested in the disagreement than the perspectives. At one point this idea was shared:

“Racism = A systematized attempt to subjugate a people group that does not hold privilege.

Prejudice = A judgment of another people group, privileged or not.

Discrimination = Acting on prejudice.

If you are a WHITE male, you are privileged. That does not mean you are rich, it means that you hold certain privileges that black males don’t.”

This might be hard to swallow, but as a black man I find this to be very true. An example of this can be seen with this social experiment.

It sucks to see this in action, but for many black young men, this is the type of double standard that we face day in and day out. I for one have been on the receiving end of some pretty messed up things on account of my skin color.

I want to be very careful not to marginalize or even over emphasize the way in which these things happen, but I cannot speak for every single black male on the face of the planet. What I can say is that in my experience of 28 years, I have seen some things that absolutely blow my mind.

With the recent happenings in Ferguson, I find the media propaganda and certain remarks made by people as an exasperation of an already touchy subject. What’s more is that I find many white men and women ready to zero in and crucify the deceased to put the blame on him for LOOKING like a thug and for being the cause of why the officer felt threatened. People, I am 5’4 115lbs and could cause a cop to feel threatened just because I am black, and believe me it has happened before.

What is it about a black person that causes this suspicion, or the need to walk on eggshells? What causes people to feel like they have to become politically correct? I honestly do not understand? Are the roots of generational discrimination, prejudice, and racism still prevalent in the way that we see people? Are we still stuck in the era of slavery in which black people are less than a full person? Why is it that a black male cannot get the same treatment as a white male? Meaning in our high profile cases why is it that we have more white males making it into police cars to be apprehended than black males? Can someone answer me with this Ferguson case, why people were so quick to mistake Mike Brown and Joda Cain as if to pardon Officer Wilson and absolve him of the incident that occurred? Yet, if the situation had been reversed things would have had a drastically different outcome. I find these things to be quite troubling.

I’ll go so far as to say this though it might seem petty. Why is it that I had to work at 200% capacity as a high school baseball player, to get the same consideration as another athlete of equal skill who was only working at 70% capacity? He plays and starts the whole season, and I sit the bench. The only difference between the two of us, I was black he was white. Note we played international baseball together on the same team, both of us as starters. I had a better work ethic which was known by both the coaching staff and other players.

Before people start cheering or throwing stones at me let me talk about black people real quick as a black person. If the only think that can cause us to come together is unfair treatment and a murder, then we are doing it wrong.

I probably will not be liked for what I am about to say, but that’s nothing new for me. I was born African American, I definitely look the part, but for most of my 28 years of living, I have been referred to as an ‘Oreo’. This is something that I have become rather numb to as I spent so many years in agonizing pain dealing with a crisis of identity because of black people. Now before I continue, I am not saying this about all black people. I haven’t met all black people, however, the ones that I do know, many have at some point made this derogatory remark or something like it towards me.

I lived on the ‘wrong’ side of town, had the ‘wrong’ friends, didn’t talk ‘black’ enough, didn’t dress ‘black’ enough, and made to feel less than most of my peers. I was made fun of and demeaned almost every day. All of this coming not from white people, but from black people. It amazes me as I look back just how much I felt I did not belong to the culture that my phenotype displayed on a daily basis.

I don’t even want to get into the whole music industry and what is being communicated through the airwaves of our secular media, heck; even our TV programming leaves a lot to be desired. But, that is a topic that I will pick up at another time.

I am grateful for church mothers (Nana Walker, Willie Nunley, Mozelle Henderson, Mary Calip, and Mom Gooch) who honestly large reasons I was able to keep my head up while walking through much of the crap I went through at a young age. Mothers, who believed in my potential, and reminded me to keep going, I am also reminded of some of the church fathers that were around (Grover Walker, Bennie Calip, Marcus Johnson, and Willie Nunley) who took the time to establish that there was nothing that I couldn’t accomplish if I put my mind to it. These were men, who taught me not to settle for mediocre, and to go excel in every way. They taught me how to wear a suit, to tie a tie, to enunciate, and communicate with respect.

Most of that was undone by my peers, those I spent ample time with. No matter what great things I was taught, there was this looming reality that was more tangible than the dreams and hopes that an older generation could see in me.

This is where I first realized the deep well of frustration and resentment I carried towards the black community. I felt such a disconnection with being someone who was acceptable to the world around me. See more often than not even though I was black, I wasn’t good enough or black enough. I was talked to differently, belittled, at times to the point where my family as a whole was talked about. I heard things in secret that I was never meant to hear. I grew up eating collard greens, cornbread, ox-tails, chitterlings, black-eyed peas, sweet potato pie…just like my peers…but I was never good enough to be equal in their eyes. For a kid going through elementary school, junior high, and high school, it was rough feeling like I had no cultural identity to be proud of.

So from both sides I was the oreo, the white washed black guy, the guy who didn’t sound black, who didn’t act black, who wasn’t really black because of my eye color. After a while I became numb to it all. However, all that has changed recently. I am haunted by the poor choices of vocabulary that my peers use in reference to me. More so than being haunted…I find myself ANGRY!

I find myself in an interesting position. On the one hand I totally understand what it is like to be discriminated against by white people because of my skin tone. I know what it’s like to be watched like a hawk when going in to a store and having people follow you to make sure you don’t steal anything. I know what it’s like to be talked down to and mistreated because of my skin color. On the other hand, I know what it’s like to be treated as a privileged person. How nothing you can do is right, nothing you can say measures up. Your actions are typically always wrong, and the crap that you get for it. I know what it’s like to get an 80,000 dollar education while having to hear people talk about how you think you are better than them because of x, y, or z. I know what it’s like to have the privilege of being a musician that gets to play in Central Park and Carnegie Hall. I can see how where I was raised and the opportunities I was afforded allowed me to enjoy many privileges that others might not get.


I find that I am afforded an interesting position, a vantage point which allows to see things from two different perspectives. Let me say this blatantly, Racism sucks. Discrimination hurts. Prejudice is not okay. The conversation needs to be brought up. It needs to be addressed. As a friend of mine said it’s about time that we have a Human Rights Movement. People ALL PEOPLE, need to be treated with the same type of care and dignity. Not judged by the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, their height, weight, figure, sex...as Martin Luther King Jr. stated, "...but by the content of their character..."

What If This Were True?

At times I simply stare wide eyed in wonder. Am I living life or is life living me? Is this first person or third person? I look at my palms, almost staring through them. What is real? The texture of my skin, the feel of the hot air around me, is it real or is it a figment of my imagination? Is this nothing more than a construct of the walls my imagination creates or is this all there is? Let me back up for a second. I see these thoughts can be quite confusing without proper context. 

See, in the deepest reaches of my being, are the faintest glimmers of mystical experience that can only be described as other worldly. Sparkles of brilliance amongst the mass of darkness, the backdrop from which illumination and radiance begin to shine. This is my own inner darkness, depression, and depravity. Rather, my self-imposed darkness, depression, and depravity. Though the cloak of this living darkness seeks to suffocate all sparks of life, I find myself amazed at the resilience of ideas, dreams, hopes, and wants that seem to be immortal and unconquerable.

See there is a silly notion that runs rampant. No matter how many times society, family, friends, religion try to assassinate it, the eternal entity, this dream continues to live on. It has faced the electric chair, the firing squad, the gas chamber, lethal injection, decapitation, the noose, even being drowned. Yet, like a phoenix it is reborn each time with new intensity always engulfed in flames. My eyes cannot forget what has already been seen. No matter how much I fight, I am overcome by the urge to be my own superhero. No cape, not tights, or spandex, yet these abilities and ideas that overcome every barrier known to man.

As I awaken from my slumber, a question begins to haunt me. WHO….AM….I? From the darkness arise those small but intense radiant lights. Piece by piece these lights fragments begin forming an essence, an entity, not yet to have been seen by the world around it. They pulse with light, yet are being arranged in phenomenal detail. What or rather WHO is this? Are we in first person or are we in third person. Am I viewing me or am I viewing someone else?

I would swear I was seeing a musically themed super hero. He vibrated and resonated sound. He carried around a guitar, played the drums, loved by all, able to tap into a realm all his own and create sounds that would unlock the emotional heartbeat of all he came in contact with. He was charming, full of charisma, gentle, and full of wisdom. Mild mannered was his nature, full or hospitality, and wit. His persona was larger than life, full of joy. He is one that wants to share gifts with all he encounters. Humble and thoroughly loving, that is who this man is.

 However, when I changed perspective and looked at him again, I was amazed. He was a fighter. He had punches and kicks that could dominate any man on the planet. He was like fire. Once ignited, he was quite hard to control. He is full of passion and a sense of loving justice. His determination was one that could not be moved or budged. He was loved by all because of the intentionality of his ways. He was honest beyond anything anyone had ever seen. Truly this must have been the true form of the entity that was being made.

As I was lost in my thoughts, the light refracted causing me to be drawn in. What I was seeing was nothing like the other men I had seen. This one, he is refined, scholarly, a gentleman par excellent. The air around him was noble, refined, without a hint of arrogance or narcissism. His mere presence invited those around him into a higher place of being. He caused the dreams within people to awaken and begin to bloom. He was all about others and maximizing ones potential for the benefit of the world around. This man smelled of selflessness, a fragrance of pure intoxication.

Just when I thought I had seen everything this being had to offer, I was again surprised as I witnessed a vast new horizon. I was in the presence of a sage. His wisdom, knowledge, and understanding of the laws governing the world around were second to none. He was well learned but had such experience to back him up. It was a rare mixture which caused his words to hit home with force. As he spoke I realized though he had many answers, it was not the place he derived his essence from. I could tell he had more questions than I could fathom at this point. His questions fueled his desire to continue learning and understanding life. Though he looked relatively young, I understood that he had been around for eons.  He would continue even after most of the world as I knew it had passed away.

As overwhelming as all of this was, I shaken to full attention as a hand grasped my shoulder. I turned around and there was the entity well rather it felt like the entity but rather than being formed it was moving as if it were already alive.  As I looked I was undone. Of everything I had just written down and pondered, I was met face to face with a being that transcended my physical sense forcefully but gently bringing me into a space that had previously been hidden to the human eye. Call it supernatural, metaphysical, eternal, those words are only able to scratch the surface of where I was thrust into. As I looked at this person, I realized he is the sage, the musician, the gentleman, and the fighter. They are mere facets of his eternal being…my eternal being.  Gazing into His eyes I saw myself. He is Me, and I am Him. However, he was not finished, as I watched this surreal even unfold, He began to create. The artistry, the creativity, the innovation, and innocence, brought me to tears. I could hear the symphony as he sculpted. I heard the poetry as he painted. I could see the cinema sequence as he choreographed. Though it made no cognitive sense, my whole being felt as if this is exactly what I have been looking for all my life.

All at once I was again alone in my room. Left to ponder the mystery of what lies within me. Again to fight a voice that tells me there is nothing to like about myself. There is nothing to love…nothing worthwhile.

But…

This time…

I am not alone.

Let's Talk Porn Pt. 2

After getting such great feedback from PART 1 of the blog, I decided to set out sometime to dive into Part 2, which really is just my own journey through dealing with porn and why I have such a vendetta against the industry.

It is always a bit unnerving sharing this part of my life with people because of the stigma that is attached to the whole idea of pornography, given by the church. See I got my start into pornography...rather viewing porn when I was 13 years old. Back in 1999. I remember it clearly. I walked into one of the bathrooms of my junior high and mistakenly caught a classmate masturbating to a dirty magazine. He thought I was going to rat him out so he gave me the magazine, so as to make me his accomplice. That one moment...changed my life...

In a time where internet filters were no where to be found, and 56k dial-up modems were the norm...I found myself on the computer at all hours of the day and or night depending on if my parents were at home or going to be home...searching all types of crazy shit. Most of the time I was too afraid to actually search porn, so I would search for adult like content that could achieve the same gratification that a hardcore porn site or magazine would offer me. See my descent into pornography was actually very gradual. Up until I was about 15 I wasn't very intrigued by naked women. The reason...one word...PUBERTY. At 15 a massive transformation dramatically occurred. I discovered my sex drive...unfortunately...it had an appetite that I could not control or manage.

Before I realized it. The girls around me started dressing differently. I saw more skin than I could handle. The dancing changed from being silly to being provocative and seductive. What's more DSL become available at home. We finally had an upgraded internet connection. Then throw on top that I was dealing with MAJOR DEPRESSION. All of these factors spelled my doom from my high school years. See for me, high school was the most miserable time of my life. I wasn't like my peers. I was a wanderer...the lone wolf...the outcast. Well, I was wanted around for certain purposes (being the kid that has a ton of rather odd skills pays off at times I guess). The cure for the hurt...you guessed it...porn. I wouldn't be made fun of for my height or other more personal things. Even as I write this...I feel a special seething hatred towards certain individuals on my 2004 high school baseball team for the nickname they gave me (...Nipples...). All year that is what I was called and how they addressed me at practice. Ya...what did I do...I would go home...and look at porn to relieve my hurting heart.

See for me the reality was I had something on my hands that would almost instantly take the pain of my heart away...or so I thought. High school was rough for another reason...CHURCH. Adults really do not know how much damage they do to teenagers without realizing it. See sometimes I think church folk are the worst. I got to hear how they dogged my peers who had sex outside of wedlock. I got to see how they were demonized. I got to hear how people were punished and taken out of the things that were bringing them out of a place of guilt and shame. It is about that time that I decided that I would NEVER EVER share what I was dealing with. I never wanted to be shamed and talked about like that. Yet, that is also when I got another label within my youth group...(Mr. Super Spiritual...).

My senior year of high school is when I started to notice how addictive porn was. I decided it was time that I stopped. OH HOW I TRIED. I was looking for solutions EVERYWHERE. I was out of options because I couldn't talk to my parents...they would freak out. I couldn't talk to people at the church I had already seen how they treated others...I knew what fate would befall me if I said anything. I couldn't talk to my teachers because they would get my parents involved. My friends were of no use...well because I didn't really have any. I never had felt despair like that...even after all of the years of depression...this was something unique. Couple that on the fact that I was lying while I was going through these purity classes that we had at our church...I felt dirty...I felt like the scum of the earth.

I would spend the next 8 years in a constant state of struggle and war with an addiction. Ultimately, I would lose my virginity because of this war.

 All of college was a pain in the ass. Why? Well...I went to a Christian institution. Porn was like the cardinal sin at the time. Mind you, I had no understanding of grace. I thought being a christian was all about performance. So you had to maintain an exterior of excellence and piety. Well, while trying to do that...I saw one of my favorite professors sent to jail because of porn. It was the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I had ever seen anything like that. It shook me to the core. Again I made a silent vow to NEVER EVER share whats going on in the depths of my heart. Up to this point I had never seen anyone beat porn. I had seen it devastate lives and I thought mine was about to be totally broken.

I remember driving on my way back to the university with tears in my eyes..."God will I ever be free? Am I doomed to be trapped for the rest of my life...feeling this...this black spot of shame and guilt?" In a clear moment God responded as lightning and said, "NO!"

I have held on to that to this day. A promise from a loving Dad to a son who wants nothing more than to be the shining example of purity and redemption. I sit and I write. I reflect on where I have been. I meditate on where God has brought me from. Closer today than I was yesterday. More free than I have ever been in my life. At a place in my life where I can openly admit the struggle and the fight I have been in since I was 18 and decided I didn't want this for my life. I am now 27 wanting to settle down, and establish a family in the near future. I have heard it so many times said, that if you are dealing with porn, you are not fit to start a family. I have believed that for such a long time....

BUT....

I now am in a place to say...FUCK THAT!!!!

I will not let my past define me. I will not let the challenges set me back! I am who God says I am. I AM VICTORIOUS! I AM FORGIVEN! I AM HEALED!

As I spend time with God, I realize the issue is no longer about porn. It is simply about understanding the righteousness He has given me and learning how to operate in it. For so long I have been operating out of the wrong operating system and it has been screwing everything. He redefined my operating system and I see more victories than I do failures. I live in more freedom than I have even known in my life. For that I am extremely grateful.

Remember that vendetta I was talking about?

Yes I want to absolutely obliterate this thing from the face of the universe.

Why?

Men and women I love have been victims of this industry.
Those I love and care about have been kidnapped and forced into the industry.
Some I know personally have been rescued from the industry.

The scars that it has left these people with...can never really be accurately described.

Even more so...I never want my children to have to suffer the way I have suffered, and the way I have caused others to suffer because of this industry and its lure.

I don't want to have to see my nephews go through the pain, the shame, the disgrace, the guilt that I had to go through. They deserve better than that.

Yet, for those who are struggling...who feel trapped...who have no one to talk to...who want to be free...I will always have a soft spot for them. Because...I know as a young man what it feels like to have your hope, joy, passion, and freedom stripped from you.

I think of those who are my little brothers in the faith, who have confided in me. The weight of the pain they carry.

THIS MUST STOP!

And I say it STARTS with ME!

Warning: Raw with Colorful Language

So I know I have the porn series I am working on, I have not forgotten. Yet, I am quite pissed right now so I thought I would simply do an angry free write and see where it takes me.

It's about to go down!

People need to get there fucking heads out of there asses. My life and all of its contents are not subject to the bitch fits that are being thrown. It is starting to get more than just a bit annoying having to deal with all of the bull shit. If people would actually get that grimy waxy build up out of there ears and actually take the time to listen, they might be surprised at what they could learn.

I mean seriously. THE FUCK!!! Even now, I am finding that I am censoring all of what is going through my head to at least present something that is palatable. However, the more I do that, the more the pressure increases.

In a moment of sheer honesty...there are very FEW people I actually trust in this world or the next. Scratch that...there are FEW people I actually trust with the inner workings of my heart in this world. At the moment I am quite fine with that. I am finding that most people don't even deserve the privilege. I have had much practical experience in my life that sharing my heart ultimately leads to pain, misunderstanding, and a ton of abuse.

Yes, I have had more than my fair share of abuse. I have learned to simply keep my heart, my emotions, and feelings...the deep ones...to myself where no one else has access. It is no surprise that I was suicidal for years of my life. It isn't far fetched to believe how much I longed to die and how often I would pray never to wake up again. Death often was more of a place of comfort than of pain.

These are some of my more well...read them and you will get the gist of it.

Cutting Ties 

The Unseen Me

Self Medicate 

Ending It All 

Can You Feel Me Now

I am super irritated right now. More than irritated I am hurt. Because the cycle continues. I get that I am a bit backwards when it comes to finally feeling comfortable with people. I get that its odd that when I am actually comfortable with a person I don't talk with them as much. Yet, the depth of when we do talk always goes to a very deep place. What hurts me is when I get told bullshit like...you just don't care like I do. When people do that I honestly just want to say "FUCK YOU". Of course I don't care like you do...I am NOT YOU! I care like ME! A place that YOU will never understand cause news flash...YOU AREN'T ME!

My heart is deeper than the bottomless pit and holds all of eternity. What could you possibly know about the depth of the pain, the hurt, the frustration, the passion, the hope, the faith, the joy, the love that I carry within me? Yet, on more than one occasion I am judged...I am told painful, gut wrenching...spirit killing things. Makes it really hard to cherish anything that anyone else gives as a consolation.

Guys, I make so many mistakes, hurt so many people...I get it. I am sorry. No matter how good my intentions are people still get hurt. All I can do is apologize. I AM SORRY! I get that sorry doesn't take the pain away. I get that there are a lot of things that just are not fixed by an apology. Trust gets broken with reckless actions. I get it. Even so, where is the grace? Where is the compassion? I just don't get it...

I am so tired of being blamed for others bullshit. I have enough of my own bullshit that I have to deal with. I have enough condemnation, shame, and frustration I deal with on a daily basis. I don't need anyone else to pile their shit on top of me. I have a ton of my own issues that I have to deal with. I can't keep wiping bratty baby asses or clean up all of the vomit.

If grace and forbearance are what we are supposed to show one another...CAN I GET SOME? Can I get some of the type of grace that takes into consideration all that is going on? The type that asks me whats really going on? The type that doesn't get upset and frustrated when I fall short? The type that works with me? The type that encourages me to go beyond what I can see? The kind that will just sit with me while I feel miserable and frustrated? The type that says hey...I got your back...you don't have to tell me exactly is going on, just know I got you.

I feel like even that is too much to ask for.

I feel like that type of heart is expected of me, yet not something that I should receive.

No, not everyone treats me in the above manner. Its just the ones that do...fuck it up for everyone else. Its hard for me to trust any more. I am surprised I even trust that God is even good. With all the shit I have been seeing and experiencing. I am glad that is one thing that I am for sure on. I am glad through it all...at least that relationship is thriving. That He gets me. That He understands. That He cares. That He just sits with me when I feel like crap. Even though I never know how to really receive from Him...at least He is patient with me...He walks me through it all.

You Love Me

When its all said and done, I know how sensitive and emotional I am. I realize just how much I have stored up...how much of a beating I have taken. Taking in deep breaths I simply fight to hold back my own tears. For so many years I have not given myself permission to cry. To this day, it is very rare for my to cry on my own outside of God just doing something huge in our time together.

I will get over that one day...

BUT...

That day just isn't today.