guest contributor Commentary, Popular Discussions

The Mind of A Recovering Misogynist

Inside-The-Minds
Photo Credit: iStockphoto

I, at one time in my young life, hated women.  Hate is such a strong word, but it is appropriate for expressing how I felt at a time in my life. I despised women for their naïveté, and their false pretenses that would come off as “lame” to me. These false pretenses strayed far from the reality in which I lived in. A façade that came to be known as life’s mascara hiding ones true blemishes made me believe that all women were nothing more than rugs that needed to be stepped on. I quite naturally gravitated to the idea of being a user, and an abuser, because as a man, or so I thought that is ultimately what we do to women. In the society we currently live in, mainstream America tells many like I that our manhood is predicated by our ability to be dominant and in control. I applied that rationale to how I dealt with the woman in my life. I came to realize that if I had a little bit of power,( money, cars, clothes) equals that women would be more receptive to me. It was not until I started going through some things that  I was made aware of my misogynistic ways. Then I came to the conclusion that I, Qaadir Morris was a misogynist.

Misogyny derives from the Greek word “misogunia” which means hatred of woman. I did not become aware of this word until recently. The only thing that I knew was that I had a strong dislike of women. I was reading a book that I recommend to all young black males titled “Who’s Gonna Take The Weight” by Kevin Powell. One chapter in particular talked about his feeling of resentment towards women. It seemed comparable to my own preconceived notions that I began to truly analyze my mentality and myself.  I was firm in my masculinity, but I grew wary of a woman getting close to me. I feared the idea of being looked at a certain way, and I feared the idea of being disappointed. I thought that because I did not have certain things going for me anymore that the women that I would come in contact with would not care for my issues. My preconceived notions would lead me to do the same, so henceforth I would try to get what I could from a woman.

I attribute my mentality at that stage of life to my upbringing. As a lot of us from urban communities, I too came from a single parent household. I love and cherish my mother, but there were times when even she would fall into the sight of my misogynistic views. I always wondered why my dad was never around. Why is it that he didn’t want anything to do with me? I formed this thought in my mind that it was my mother’s fault for him not being there. She must have pissed him off to the point of no return. As I reached my teenage years I strongly felt that it was her, and not my dad that caused us to never meet. As I matriculated through high school, and started to develop my own ideologies I could understand why my dad left us. Hell, I would have left if I had to deal with my mom on that level. With age and experience I now know that I again was wrong with my feelings.

Being from “Urban America” the streets played a big role in my misogynistic views. In the hood, all you really have is your manhood, and it is determined by your style, your lingo, and of course by how many women you can sleep with. The music that I digested, played a big role in my misogynistic ways. My friends and I would begin to apply what we learned from Master P and the whole Cash Money click in our day-to-day lives. We wanted to be hood rich and began to use choice words like “bitches and hoes” to describe the women in our neighborhood and at school. The crazy part about this is that I was genuinely a good guy. I had manners, and to some I was too “nice” to the ladies. This idea of being “nice” blew me too, because again I thought that women did not want to be respected. Because I would talk to them in a respectable manner and get played to the left, where as the guy who would feel on them and talk disrespectful to them would get the girl. I had no choice but to switch the swag because I wanted the girls.  My rude and egotistical mannerisms had to show brighter than my intelligence if I wanted to be considered cool with the ladies, or so I thought.

I am a recovering misogynist. I can honestly say that I know longer despise women. Of course there is still room for growth, but I am now more aware than I have ever been. I do not claim to know it all, but I am aware of my flaws and that is a good thing. I believe that as a man we get so caught up in the material things in the world that we feel we have to buy our piece of love and happiness. I can’t say that I never flexed, because honestly I did. Maybe it is just the caliber of women that I was meeting that led me to believe these things. If I change my surroundings, I will get different results in my interactions. It comes down to being secure with who you are and knowing where you are going. I am not yet completely healed from the plague that a lot of us men face which is misogyny, but I am man enough to address the issue. What do you think?

Qaadir Morris is a journalist born and raised in the great city of Atlanta, Georgia. Morris is a recent graduate of Shaw University, located in Raleigh, North Carolina. Currently writing on a freelance level, Morris has interviewed the likes of T.I, and Andrew Young just to name a few. Qaadir is currently working on a novel titled “Schools Out”, which focuses on the trials and tribulations of a recent college graduate. In his artistic expression, Mr. Morris wishes to convey a sense of reality through words. “Writing for me has always been therapeutic”, says Mr. Morris. “Writing is like raising children; you have to instill structure yet give them space to grow and develop a personality.” As he continues to evolve Morris is also working on completing another novel by the end of the year, and organizing a series of events in the Metro Atlanta area.

guest contributor Black Artist Spotlight

The Poetry of Tiffany Reese

About Tiffany Reese: Tiffany Reese is a young poet with a drive to inspire the world. She has touched many with her uplifting words of encouragement and profound knowledge of issues dealing with everyday life. She has a passion for the younger generation and does everything she can to educate them about life, God, and loving themselves through her poetry. She has received the “Shakespeare Trophy of Excellence” and the “2003 Poet of The Year Medallion”. She has gone several places spreading her talent to those who have an ear to hear what God has to say. Tiffany not only writes poetry but she also writes and directs plays and has begun writing her first novel.

Black Hourglass

As I reflect on times passed, many situations and confrontations of negativity slip slowly through a black hourglass; once there was slavery and those hating me but now it seems as if I am destined to be hated by me or should I say by those of my kind; Why is it that time has suddenly flipped into rewind? Entrapment of lives has now evolved into entrapment of the mind; our lack of knowledge has left us incarcerated with no plan of escape; it’s like we’re locked down behind massa’s gate waiting to be freed and now it is hundreds of years later and we still do not see a need to succeed; black on black crimes and robberies, brothas beating sistas and broken families, what exactly is our destiny mapping out to be? Do we proceed or recede? Change will never come if we constantly wait for someone else, look at the trap you have set for yourself not realizing how quickly the future covers the past, we sit back and laugh, as time slips slowly through a Black Hourglass

I AM 
 

I am labeled as Black, as Mexican, as Latino, as White, as many different breeds of American; 

I am classified by the pigment of my skin, by the texture of my hair, and by your standards I am almost non-human; 

I am STEREOTYPED; 

I am pre-judged as illiterate, as unknowledgeable, as unaware, as dumb, as intolerable; 

I am also spoken to be non-sufficient, unable, and unwilling; 

I am deemed an outcast but what many don’t believe many choose not to understand and because I am curious you say that I am slow to comprehend…when actually I come from generations of intellectual minds who are said to be peculiar, strange, hard to figure out but yet I am in high demand; 

Who’s to say one cannot assume another’s capabilities when many have already assumed me and my abilities to be not what others perceive but what I am destined to be; 

If life were actually based on the classification set by man then I would be close to nothing, at the bottom of the list, not even worth a grain of sand, but life is based on the truth and not a lie so the truth is…. 

I am a believer of the most high, chosen to perpetuate the world with righteousness; 

I am blessed with a heart of compassion, a soul full of love and grace for it is he that gives me the strength to live day by day;

I am what God has made and predestined me to be and what is unpleasing to you is of least importance to me for it is not by your thoughts and feelings I will be judged but by the obedience of my heart, the understanding of his word, the pureness of my soul and living by the fruit of the spirit that I withhold;  

Now, with all that said and done I pray that you have come to the conclusion that I am not what you want me to be but I am a child of God and that’s what matters most to me.

This One’s For You 

Tall and strong he stands with the world in the palm of his hands sometimes it’s hard for us to understand the way he does his thing and when he speaks it’s like his voice sings a deep rich harmony more like a mellow melody he inspires me with a deepness of thought this is something that can’t be bought it’s priceless he ranks #1 on my list of importance like a rare jewel he is unique and like devotion he is faithful a father, we all should be grateful to have such a leading figure in our life, a provider, a motivator, a guiding light in the midst of the darkest night, he is the comfort within the feeling that everything is alright; a father is courage when we fear, a father is to be upheld and cherished so dear and not broken down verbally until he is of his mere essence, a father is a blessing and should be treated as such respected and not neglected for he has feelings that consists of more than the ability to see, smell, hear, taste and touch, without him there is no us; I know at times it seems as if people are growing colder it’s like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders pressing down heavily like boulders these times are getting hard but we will make it through although sometimes we may not always agree with you but we are here because we love you; A father, one who is the giver of life and the redeemer of pain throughout history many have tainted the name father by taking the responsibility jokingly leaving half of America unclaimed but to those who know the real definition of being a father walks with his head held high and not down with shame, he looks towards the sky and acknowledges his father, our father God; So from me to all of you in this most special way, I commend you on your strength, I honor you for your truth, and I love you for just being you.

guest contributor Relationships

Why marriage is Important to the African American Community

Why Marriage Is Important to the African American Community

By Guest Writer Maryanne D. Brown Campbell 

As the statistic that 70% of black women are single prompted me to write this book, I’ve made amazing discoveries, I wasn’t aware of before…I feel the universe is in perfect balance, and what comes around goes around. When you look at the fact we have a President with African blood-lines (and I say this because I believe we are Africans living in America, as that’s where our roots lie, despite the fact, the majority of us cannot trace our roots, and the fact Obama is biracial), when you look at that fact, and remember our history in America, that started in slavery, is it any wonder that one day we would have a black man running this country? When you remember history, and how America first belonged to the Indians or Native Americans, and realize that Mexicans have descended from the Aztec Indians, is it any wonder that Mexican Americans far out populate any other ethnicity in America today? That said, when you take into account Mexican culture and how significant and important family is to their culture, we can learn something from them…  
 
Given the following statistics, family, which is produced in its most healthiest forms, through marriage, makes marriage an important factor, especially to our community:  
 
“The marriage rate for African Americans has been dropping since the 1960s, and today, we have the lowest marriage rate of any racial group in the United States.”  
 
“Today the number of children born into a black marriage averages less than 0.9 children per marriage. ‘The birthrates of black married women have fallen so sharply that absent out-of-wedlock child-bearing, the African American population would not only fail to reproduce itself, but would rapidly die off.”  
 
“African American women are the least likely in our society to marry. In the period between 1970 and 2001, the overall marriage rate in the U.S. declined by 17%; but for blacks, it fell 34%.”  
 
Higher rates of black child poverty are linked to higher levels of black single parenthood.  
 
“Divorce and marriage play a much bigger economic role for black children than white children in the U.S. In the first 2 years following a divorce, family income among white children falls about 30%, while it falls by 53% among black children. The difference increases dramatically in the long run. 3 or more years after the divorce, about a 3rd of the loss in whites’ household income is recouped, but the income of black families barely improves…” -UC Davis economists, Marianne Page & Ann Huff Stevens  

Commentary welcome, and thanks for listening… I hope this sheds light on my marriage reformist notions for our community…
 
If you want to know more, check out her book Food For The Soul 


About the Author: Maryanne D. Brown Campbell 

Maryanne D. Brown Campbell is best known for her “in your face,” uncensored poetic style, thus the name Serpentine Tongue, the title of her previous book, is befitting of her works, as she has a tongue like a snake, with her witty, sharp and critical edge, and honest and ever passionate views.  She is also versatile to the likes of one of her favorite poets Paul Laurence Dunbar, who wrote in eloquent English vernacular and slave dialect.  Inspired as well by everyone from the late Tupac Shakur to her former college instructor, author, poet, playwright, dancer, actress and lecturer, Ntozake Shange, as well as poets Amari Baraka, Saul Williams and Black Ice, she plans to make a name for herself, with more works to come.

Food for the Soul touches on the topics of sisterhood, sexuality, interracial relationships, the word “bitch”, emotional intelligence, what it is to be a “Pillar of Strength” and a “Beast of Burden”, beauty and so much more.  Its essence is as the title suggests, a component to feeds one’s soul literally, -a book no African-American household should be without, as it gives us a deeper and profound understanding of our state of being in the African American community today, in order to remedy our issues amongst ourselves and with one another.

Maryanne D. Brown Campbell currently resides in San Diego, California, an English major who received her baccalaureate from Prairie View A & M University and her Masters in Management from the University of Phoenix.  She is presently working on future book endeavors, a romance novel, poetry compilations, a spoken word CD, and most notably, Word Masturbation: The Poet’s Guide to Love, Sex and Relationships.

 

 

JAM Aiwuyor Commentary

Daddy’s Journey…

Daddy’s Journey… By Timothy Aaron-Styles

If it were possible, many—possibly most—of us would revisit days gone by in order to change past experiences. Armed with the benefits of life lessons learned and wisdom gained from tripping, falling, slipping, stumbling, hurting, being hurt, losing and suffering. I’d go back to make different choices, select different paths, undo certain actions and do many of those things not done—things I really should have done.

Case in point: if I could go back, I would be there for my daughter. I know “be there” is such an abstract term. However, my “be there” has real definition and criteria now. Way back then, back in the days, my concept of “be there” was skewed. Maturity and wisdom arrived at by living and learning hadn’t really manifested itself to me then. Simply put, in other words, I was young and immature.

Of course, I didn’t know it then and I wasn’t listening to those wise elders—some friends, some relatives, some associates and sometimes even strangers—who constantly advised me about how and why I should “be there” for my daughter. Somewhere in my then warped mind, I believed that an occasional phone call made to her or a period African doll sent as a gift was enough for “my little African girl”. Sad.

My daughter needed me to be there to love her. Not in some pseudo-intellectual way nor with mere lip service but by taking care of her. By contributing positively to her unfolding. Her growth. Her development.

Be there. There’s that phrase again. But it’s not the skewed “be there” I refer to. It’s the one whose understanding I have arrived at, finally, through prayer, reflection, tears, struggle, and contemplation.

I should have been there to meet my financial obligations. That’s one of the first and most important responsibilities owed to a child by an absent parent. Money helps provide comfort, joyful experiences, clean and fitting clothes, mind-expansive books, train or bus fare to Nana and Poppy’s house, cultural exposure, a full belly and other creature comforts essential to a healthy and wholesome life experience for a growing child.

I should have been there for my daughter for guidance, protection, support, laughter, encouragement and advice.

I should have been there to listen, cry, tease and joke—To offer my shoulders, my back, my arms and my chest.

I should have been there to hold, snuggle, run, jump, skip and play.

I should have been there, during those formative years, to admonish, discipline, consult or shame (in the African sense of the word where shame is used to enlighten and correct not to demean).

I should have been there like my father and mother were. However imperfect they were.

I should have been there silently if need be. Just to be there so she can see me.
Little girls—and big daughters—need their daddy’s ya’ll.

I can’t go back and recapture that invaluable time although I want to so desperately. Strangely I have fond and precious memories of times and situations between she and I that are non-existent. Is that my mind’s way of rationalizing my absence? Or is it my imagination helping me to not be so sad, guilty and self-condemnatory?

Knowing full well that the past is irretrievable, I’d settle for my twenty-something daughter to embrace me now. To speak with me openly and freely. Hold me—kiss me and affectionately refer to me as “daddy” or “Baba” instead of by my first name.

However, her reluctance to, and the likelihood that a relationship between us will never be, are the fruits of my deeds and misdeeds. All results of my actions and inactions. Products of my immaturity and stupidity. Life’s wisdom has enlightened me.

All I can do now is hope one day my little girl—I’m sorry—my grown daughter can somehow find it in her heart and mind to understand and forgive me. Then maybe she’ll bless me with her time and her love.

All I can do now is share with others and say: daughters need their daddy’s ya’ll. To my brothers—love your daughters and be there for them for real. They need you and you need them.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m on the road now to being a wise elder myself. Somebody tell my daughter.

Daddy’s Journey…
By Timothy Aaron-Styles


If it were possible, many—possibly most—of us would revisit days gone by in order to change past experiences. Armed with the benefits of life lessons learned and wisdom gained from tripping, falling, slipping, stumbling, hurting, being hurt, losing and suffering. I’d go back to make different choices, select different paths, undo certain actions and do many of those things not done—things I really should have done.

Case in point: if I could go back, I would be there for my daughter. I know “be there” is such an abstract term. However, my “be there” has real definition and criteria now. Way back then, back in the days, my concept of “be there” was skewed. Maturity and wisdom arrived at by living and learning hadn’t really manifested itself to me then. Simply put, in other words, I was young and immature.

Of course, I didn’t know it then and I wasn’t listening to those wise elders—some friends, some relatives, some associates and sometimes even strangers—who constantly advised me about how and why I should “be there” for my daughter. Somewhere in my then warped mind, I believed that an occasional phone call made to her or a period African doll sent as a gift was enough for “my little African girl”. Sad.

My daughter needed me to be there to love her. Not in some pseudo-intellectual way nor with mere lip service but by taking care of her. By contributing positively to her unfolding. Her growth. Her development.

Be there. There’s that phrase again. But it’s not the skewed “be there” I refer to. It’s the one whose understanding I have arrived at, finally, through prayer, reflection, tears, struggle, and contemplation.

I should have been there to meet my financial obligations. That’s one of the first and most important responsibilities owed to a child by an absent parent. Money helps provide comfort, joyful experiences, clean and fitting clothes, mind-expansive books, train or bus fare to Nana and Poppy’s house, cultural exposure, a full belly and other creature comforts essential to a healthy and wholesome life experience for a growing child.

I should have been there for my daughter for guidance, protection, support, laughter, encouragement and advice.

I should have been there to listen, cry, tease and joke—To offer my shoulders, my back, my arms and my chest.

I should have been there to hold, snuggle, run, jump, skip and play.

I should have been there, during those formative years, to admonish, discipline, consult or shame (in the African sense of the word where shame is used to enlighten and correct not to demean).

I should have been there like my father and mother were. However imperfect they were.

I should have been there silently if need be. Just to be there so she can see me.
Little girls—and big daughters—need their daddy’s ya’ll.

I can’t go back and recapture that invaluable time although I want to so desperately. Strangely I have fond and precious memories of times and situations between she and I that are non-existent. Is that my mind’s way of rationalizing my absence? Or is it my imagination helping me to not be so sad, guilty and self-condemnatory?

Knowing full well that the past is irretrievable, I’d settle for my twenty-something daughter to embrace me now. To speak with me openly and freely. Hold me—kiss me and affectionately refer to me as “daddy” or “Baba” instead of by my first name.

However, her reluctance to, and the likelihood that a relationship between us will never be, are the fruits of my deeds and misdeeds. All results of my actions and inactions. Products of my immaturity and stupidity. Life’s wisdom has enlightened me.

All I can do now is hope one day my little girl—I’m sorry—my grown daughter can somehow find it in her heart and mind to understand and forgive me. Then maybe she’ll bless me with her time and her love.

All I can do now is share with others and say: daughters need their daddy’s ya’ll. To my brothers—love your daughters and be there for them for real. They need you and you need them.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m on the road now to being a wise elder myself. Somebody tell my daughter.

 

Timothy Aaron-Styles is an innovator in the field of media and communications. He graduated from Georgia State University with a Bachelor’s in Film/Video while minoring in Marketing. He has worked with CNN Headline News, 16 The Library Channel, and City 5: Atlanta City Hall’s cable television station (which he also co-named).

Contact Timothy at timothyaaronstyles@gmail.com

JAM Aiwuyor Healthy, Popular Discussions

The REAL Soul Food: The Benefits Of A Vegan Diet For African-Americans

Fried chicken, ribs, chitterlings, collard greens, sweet potatoes, macaroni and cheese, these are common staples of what most like to call “soul food”. You can find these foods showing up at many Sunday dinners, barbeques, weddings and church functions. The African-American community especially takes pride in providing some of the best soul food cooking around. The problem is that most of this food that people call good for the soul, is not so good for the physical body. Heart disease, stroke, obesity and diabetes disproportionately affect those in the African-American community. Of course, African-Americans are not the only race of people that partakes in “soul food”, but the price that we pay according to statistics seems to be far greater than other races.

On Medicinenet.com, Daniel DeNoon uncovers these startling statistics in the article, “Why 7 Diseases Strike Blacks Most”:

  • Diabetes is 60% more common in black Americans than in white Americans. Blacks are up to 2.5 times more likely to suffer a limb amputation and up to 5.6 times more likely to suffer kidney disease than other people with diabetes.
  • Strokes kill 4 times more 35- to 54-year-old black Americans than white Americans. Blacks have nearly twice the first-time stroke risk of whites.
  • Blacks develop high blood pressure earlier in life — and with much higher blood pressure levels — than whites. Nearly 42% of black men and more than 45% of black women aged 20 and older have high blood pressure.
  • Cancer treatment is equally successful for all races. Yet black men have a 40% higher cancer death rate than white men. African-American women have a 20% higher cancer death rate than white women.

Additionally, according to the Center for Disease Control, heart disease is the leading cause of death for people of most ethnicities in the United States. However, African-Americans have the highest death rate percentage at 25.8.

I’m quite sure this is not the first time you have read alarming statistics about the health of African-Americans, however it is now important to examine alternative lifestyle choices to turn these numbers around in our favor. Through my own extensive research, I learned that the cause of many diseases is linked directly to what we eat. According to research done on vegan.org, consuming animal fats and proteins has been widely linked to heart disease, colon and lung cancer, osteoporosis, diabetes, kidney disease, hypertension, obesity, and many other debilitating conditions. The milk from cows has ideal amounts of protein and fat for young calves, but too much for humans. Eggs are higher in cholesterol than any other food. The American Dietetic Association reported that vegetarian/vegan diets are associated with reduced risks for these conditions. So, based on the health statistics of African-Americans and the benefits of a plant-based diet, it seems only natural to think twice before frying up some bacon!

I went vegetarian in 2001 and became a full-fledged vegan in 2006. The major difference between the two is that a vegan diet eliminates the consumption of all animal products. Many vegetarians still consume fish, eggs or dairy. Most people believe if they stop consuming animal products, they will be relegated to a boring eating lifestyle. There are so many resources, websites and cookbooks now available for vegan eating, that it would be impossible to get bored! I thoroughly enjoy what I eat and as an added bonus, know I am being kind to my body.

Many are also concerned they will not get all the vitamins and nutrients they need on a vegan diet and this is also a myth. Whole grains, vegetables, fruits and beans provide all of the protein and nutrients your body needs. It’s all about education, planning and experimentation. I feel it’s time that African-Americans step outside of the box and take control of our health and in turn educate others on making healthy lifestyle choices. I realize that going vegan is a bit extreme for most, but I hope to be an example to show people that it is attainable and beneficial on many levels. Fresh fruits, vegetables, whole grains and beans are foods that are best for your body and in turn make them good for your soul!

Christa R. Shelton currently resides in Atlanta, Ga and blogs daily on veganism. You can check out her blog at www.vegginoutwithchrista.blogspot.com for more information on veganism and health.

guest contributor Commentary, Race Ethnicity & Culture

History Pieces Us Together

History Pieces Us Together

C. Lionel Spencer  

Who are you? Who am I? As we grow and mature, we search for traits in our character that make us, us. We ask ourselves what is it that makes us unique and separates us from the rest. We realize that we are brilliant in mathematics, or that we have thing for humor, or that we are deeply connected to the earth.  Then we look around at our neighborhoods, or immediate families, and began to feel a sense of self.  We are like no other, right?

But the idea of being an individual, or breaking away from the norm is a very western idea. In most African cultures religion and professions, among many other things are passed down from generation to generation. As African Americans I believe we embrace being American all too easily, and forget the blood that still runs through our veins.  Even with all our changes, from slavery until now, we are still more African than we would like to admit. I believe we are still in many ways a reflection of our families past.  

Think about what you believe, why you believe it and how you came to believe it! Consider what drives you and what you are passionate about! Ask yourself, am I the only person in my entire family who’s ever thought like this? Some will justifiably say yes, given that they don’t know much about their family history. But before you once again default on being a unique American, let me first share with you some of my story. Afterward I challenge you to look through your own family history, dead or alive, and find out who you really are.

I am a 26 year old African American man who was raised in the South Bronx of New York. I am a writer and an artist who aspires to become a Creative Writing Professor, because I’m so unique right?  Well, about a year ago I found out that music runs through my family like the Nile River. My great grandfather, Henry Scott Sr, was a musician who owned a night club in Georgia, and was a professor at Savannah State University. He played various instruments including the guitar and the saxophone while teaching algebra.

Who would have known four generations before me stood a relative in my family who I share similar passions with. Many of our youth today pride themselves in being so different, that they turn their backs on their own families. Instead of searching and embracing the many similarities that will be found within their history, they remove themselves from it.

So who am I? I guess, Corey Lionel Spencer’s, a piece of Henry Scott in many ways. And I’m pretty sure after much more digging I will be a distant aunt or cousin or brother too.  

So let me ask, do you know the men and women that came generations before you? Speak to your mothers and fathers and aunts, because I’m pretty sure if and when you journey back you will find you, maybe a little less refined, but still you. 

C. Lionel Spencer is a New York resident and writer, who is devoted to using his talent of writing to move our world community forward.
Check out his blog, an allegory of life, at http://percepperspectnpeople.blogspot.com.

guest contributor Race Ethnicity & Culture, Super Hot Topics

The Beef Between Africans & African Americans: Why Can’t We Get Along?

us

By Guest Writer Tanikia Thompson

“You’re not African American, you’re American. You guys just say African American so you can have some relation to Africa.”

These are the words that were spoken to me from a Nigerian lady that I attended college with. It was hurtful to hear her say this. I have traveled to Zambia twice and the first time was challenging. In a debriefing session I explained to the white people on the trip, that my entire life I had been told that I am African American, and here I was in Africa and had no culture to call my own. When a man in the market realized that I couldn’t speak Bemba he told my Zambian host that I should be ashamed of myself for not knowing my language. He didn’t know that I wasn’t from Zambia, because everything about me along with the rest of the African American community screams Africa. While in Zambia, I noticed how the people looked just like African Americans back home. It was very evident that African Americans are from Africa.

There are two major problems at hand: not enough African Americans acknowledge that they are Africans and not enough Africans acknowledge that African Americans are African. I’m sure growing up we have all heard the “You look like you African” jokes. Well that cruel joke has followed us to adulthood. How can a Black person look like an African, when they are African? And why is that meant to be offensive? I will admit that it wasn’t until after my voyage to the Motherland, that I began to take ownership of my African roots. What’s weird is when I say that I’m African around African Americans that know me, they look at me like I’m crazy and question me. I respond by saying “You’re African too!”

On the other hand I have heard Africans speak like the Nigerian lady who told me that I wasn’t African. Is the history of slavery not enough explanation on how we separated from our homeland? That isn’t American history; it’s African and American history. There are African Americans like myself who have gone through major identity crisis’ and struggled over the fact that we have no knowledge of what country in Africa we came from. Just because we weren’t born in Africa, don’t strip us of our African identity and heritage.

What frustrates me is I can see how the media has played a crucial role in dividing us. In America they have presented Africa to us as the Dark Continent with uncivilized people. To an extent we have believed everything we’ve seen on television. I remember on my first trip to Africa I was scared that some random men were going to break into the house I was staying and rape me. How crazy is that? In Africa they have presented African Americans as all being uneducated, rappers, thugs, and hoes. It was very irritating when the Africans would try to use slang with me. The media alone has caused us to form stereotypes about each other.

This is an issue that frequently comes up in my diverse circle of friends, so I wanted to share it with you guys. I leave you with this question:

At what point did African Americans stop being African? When we got off the slave ship?

Yo I tell you the rest when I see you… Peace!

Nikki

Follow me on twitter: Nikkiandthecity

Check out my blog: www.nikkiandthecityadventures.blogspot.com

guest contributor Black News, Super Hot Topics

10 Things I Hate About Black Greek Life

                                                                                    Leave a Comment and tell us how you feel about this topic:)

By Guest Writer Tameka Floetic Prodigy Dean

I’m writing this for anyone who is considering Greek Life as a warning to not conform to the foolishness that has managed to seep into Historically Black Greek-Lettered Organizations. I respect all the organizations for their initial purpose and I by no means ever regret being apart of what I think is one of the greatest influences in my life, Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc. However, please know these views I’m about to express have been on my mind since before I became Greek and explains why many are turned off from Greek Life or fail to respect those who become apart of these organizations.

With that said, I encourage people who join to be INDIVIDUALS who are apart of what they believe to be something greater or in alignment with GOALS you already had in place for yourself. A wise friend once told me, become a part of something because it brings out more of who YOU ALREADY ARE NOT WHAT YOU HOPE TO BECOME.

With that said……

10 Things I Hate About Greek Life

1. THE BATTLE OF PAPER VERSUS REAL

First off, let me say, YOU ARE PAPER if you don’t do anything for your organization, its goals, and its objectives. I don’t care how hard your process was, because guess what…when you finish, your work is not done! Greeks, please stop acting like your process was the completion of your duties. It wasn’t. You have a lot more to do. I don’t know about your other organizations, but being apart of Zeta is a lifelong commitment. Its not 4 years of undergrad fun and then you are done, not financially supportive, and all we can do is find you at the step show or stroll off but not at the March of Dimes Walk or at a Storks Nest Session.

And if you didn’t have a “process” or whatever, but you are dedicated to the mission and you follow through on everything you are supposed to do (I’m not sure if this is the case or not), then your other sorors or frat brothers need to acknowledge that….even if they think they are realer than you. At the end of the day, you are now apart of the SAME organization. Sorry folks, they paid their money and in most cases they actually statistically stay financial and active for longer periods of time than those who went through a process. Either way, if you aren’t doing anything, YOU ARE PAPER, Your leadership position looks good only on paper. The organization looks good, on paper. The number of members you may have in your chapter, looks good on paper. But what are you actually doing that people can visibly see for the community? why should anyone be motivated to be apart of much less acknowledge an organization they feel is completely useless……you are just hurting the cause.

2. GREEK SOCIAL LIFE IS FUN BUT NOT A REASON TO ACT A FOOL

I will admit, the social aspect of sorority or fraternity life is fun. You get to meet a lot of different people and have fun doing it. However, this is not a reason for you to just cut up, get drunk and sloppy, and act crazy. If anything, you are making your own organization look bad. So please, especially if you are Zeta, take your letters off. Uphold yourself in a respectable manner. If you say that by being apart of your organization, you hold yourself to a higher standard, then do so. I once thought being greek and a Christian was an oxymoron but there are plenty of ways to have fun with your sorors or frat brothers without being drunk, ho’ing your back out, or just not keeping yourself respectable. Do better.

3. NO ONE NEEDS TO SEE YOUR CHAPTER’S DRAMA
Whatever happens in your chapter, needs to stay in your chapter. Other Chapters don’t need to be involved in yours nor do non-greeks need the ammo to say” Oh that organization is a mess..they don’t even like each other.” Once again, respect your sisters or brothers enough to not spread rumors about them to other people. One, you make your organization look bad. Two, you make yourself look bad by how triflin’ you are. keep the drama in-house, work through it and get over it. These are people you are going to have to learn to work with. For some people, you can’t be the best of friends with all your sorors or frat brothers, but you came together to get something done. Thats how the real world works…you think you are going to absolutely love all your co-workers? No, but you have to come together to get something done, so do it. No one needs to see your dirty laundry, keep it to yourself.

4. YOUR ORGANIZATION DOES NOT DEFINE YOU.

First off, let me say that if no one liked you and you were lame before you had letters, guess what?, still no one will like you and you are still LAME. The only people who will tolerate you are the next group of people who want to be apart of what you are apart of and suck up to you. But that doesn’t mean they will respect you, especially if they actually become apart of your organization. You should be able to say, “My name is…..and I’m a …..” Not, for example “Hey I’m a Zeta and by the way my name is Tameka” What? Why should anyone respect you as an individual when the only memorable thing you can say about yourself is that you are a Delta, an AKA, blah blah blah. People should know who you are and what you are about and see that these qualities are further brought out by you being apart of that organization that you hold with such high esteem. YOU ARE NOT YOUR ORGANIZATION. The organization doesn’t make you. You should have joined because it reflected qualities you already possessed. These are the types of people they need: people of quality and high achievement. These are the types of people who started these organizations. They don’t need drones and tshirt wearers. They need people who are dedicated and carrying out the mission. But time and time again, WEAK, INSECURE, people with nothing else going on for themselves slip in somehow and now we are at a point where being Greek is no longer about being held to another standard. GREEK LIFE IS DEAD AND YOU ARE KILLING IT.

5. GREEK DIVISION

We are different organizations. I get it. Enough said. We have our own traditions, histories, and distinctive values. I may not think your organization was the right one for me because of my personal values, but I still respect your organization for what it is. When I came to Georgia, AKA’s and Delta’s were some of the most influential people in my life. To be honest, if some organizations were missing, it would be noticed somewhere IF in fact your organization, at least on a national or international level if not on community or local chapter level was actually doing something. So as much as I hear other organizations diss Zetas or any other sororities….if we were missing, even being one of the smallest, you would notice. I don’t see Deltas or AKAs holding Storks Nest sessions to helping underprivileged pregnant women and educating them about their pregnancy to prevent premature births, giving them essential baby items and support. Our agendas are DIFFERENT. We employ DIFFERENT MEANS to contribute to the betterment of the black community. So how can you even possible say things like “Our sorority is the only sorority and the best” WHAT? THE BEST AT WHAT? We don’t even focus on the same aspects? I don’t need your stamp of approval from your organization in order to go hard for my own. I didn’t join for that. So as I tell haters alike (you don’t need to be Greek to be a hater..thats universal), please stay in your designated hating areas. We don’t need to choke from your second-hand hate. Kill your own happiness, not everyone else’s.

6. GREEKS NEED TO COMPETE ON THE THINGS THAT MATTER

Ok so let say I even tolerate your claim that you are THE BEST. Then be the best…..at THINGS THAT MATTER. No one cares how good you are at strolling, stepping, or party hopping….and some of you can’t even do that and just rely on the fact that you feel you look good in your letters. Please Grow Up. Welcome to the real world, outside of your college bubble. In the real world, these skills are not transferable to anything important. You will find yourself graduating years late, GPA low, and still can’t get a job even if you do network with your sorors. Do better. So if we are going to compete and you want to assert some sense of elitism, lets compete on things that matter like PROGRAMMING, ACADEMIC ACHIEVEMENT, COMMUNITY OUTREACH, YOUTH ENRICHMENT, etc. The other aspects of Greek Life ARE FOR FUN. Keep it that way. We may make fun of each other for fun but its not that serious to the point where you feel like you have to put someone else down to make you feel like you or your organization is a threat. People who are actually doing something, don’t need to chant the loudest, make appearances, and do all this talking, etc. People notice them for what they do and respect them for it. YOU EARN RESPECT NOT CONVINCE PEOPLE TO RESPECT YOU BECAUSE YOU MAKE AN APPEARANCE. So do better…if not for yourself according to your own standards because they aren’t high enough, at least for your organization since you may seem to think that makes you who you are. DO BETTER.

7.NPHC IS A JOKE

When I was a naive neo coupled with my “save the world” mentality by wanting to be a doctor, I thought all the Greeks came together to impact the black community as a whole. I was sooo wrong. Historically Black Greek Lettered Organizations are more worried about tooting their own horn, outshining others, and being individual organizations. So..at this point… I quit. It’s sad to think that even until this day, black people still CANNOT work together….still crabs in a bucket. Keep your attitudes, judgments, whatever..people should not have to convince you to go hard for your organization’s agenda…which is holding yourself to a higher standard and doing effective programming. The social aspect is fun but once again, that is not the only thing that Greek Life is about. Its a balance and sometimes its good to work with other organizations and combine resources to make a bigger impact, especially if you DO NOT…I repeat..DO NOT go to an HBCU, which leads me to my next point.

8. HBCU’s VS PWI’s

Moment of clarification HBCU stands for Historically Black Colleges & Universities. PWI is a term used to describe Predominately White Institutions and that is precisely what Georgia College & State University is. The Greek organizations here may go from 2 – 8 members per each organization if we are lucky. The division is not necessary, neither is individualistic elitism..we get it…your organization is DIFFERENT. So in terms of our chapter, we find more alliances with non-black greeks for program support and collaboration and even non-greek organizations. Black Greek organizations at PWI’s need to realize that we already come from a small pot, so further division only hurts the cause and then you wonder why no one is interested in Greek Life. If we only have like a handful of black people from the start, most of us should be Greek anyway because the movers and shakers and people getting things done will most likely have to rely on the efforts of minority activism and participation as a whole. When I first came to this campus, most of the people were Greek and yet I could relate to them on other levels beyond being Greek because those same people were in the organizations like Black Student Alliance, NAACP, etc. Now what I see is people who are just Greek and only stick with their Greek people to do social Greek things. There is no reason why you should walk into a room, not speak to anybody but still want to be recognized because you are wearing your letters with your sorors or frat….sitting in the corner like LAMES talking about other people. Please GROW UP! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? I barely see those same people being apart of their campus community except when it comes to parties. Then you have the nerve to talk about other people and say you are better? Better according to what standard? Because, last time I checked, there are plenty of other people on a PWI campus who are doing things for the campus community and local community and ARE NOT GREEK. Yet you don’t make attempts to work with these people and band together because collectively you are a black minority. And given the circumstances, some of you WOULD NOT…repeat…WOULD NOT even have survived on an HBCU campus, much less even been able to withstand crossing at an HBCU campus. So I wish the nonsense would stop. Collaborate and work together….IT IS NOT THAT SERIOUS!

9. GREEK PERSONAL ISSUES GOING TOO FAR

Lets see..hmm..should I even bother with this one? So, basically this describes people who have personal vendettas against people and then transfer that to Greek Division. Time and time again, I hate when I speak to people and they are nice as individuals but because one of their sorors doesn’t like me or someone in my organization, they act different around their sorors or frat collectively. Make up your mind…either you like people or you don’t like people. Who cares? I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one who knows there is a world outside this campus…and if anything I network with other people who are in other Greek organizations because I know people in general in different arenas from educators to doctors to scientist to nurses and it goes on. It would be completely ignorant for them to be like…oh Tameka, you are a Zeta now so now I can’t help you…what? It doesn’t work like that, so stop making it seem like it works like that on this campus. We all work with each other in one from or another, so stop letting personal issues be masked in your Greek letters. If you don’t like someone it’s because you don’t like someone…keep it yourself. You don’t need to start GANG MENTALITY and get the rest of your crew to not like someone or treat them differently when you are around each other. Very ignorant. I hope you finally climb out the box you jumped so deep into.

10. BREEDING CARBON COPIES

I will say it over and over again..be an individual. Be a person of quality. Stop trying to mold yourself into what that particular chapter wants you to be so that you can feel some sense of belonging. That shows weakness in character. And unfortunately people who aren’t about anything usually are the ones that breed more weak-minded individuals…and the cycle continues…I don’t understand that by even slightly mentioning you are interested in a particular organization to a person who is in the organization means you should automatically be kicked down, humiliated and pre-hazed. What? Just because an aspirant admires your organization (that’s a compliment by the way) and wants to know what they must do to join (and this before an interest meeting or anything is being done for a process), that does not give you a reason to put them through all this drama only to tell them that they can’t join because you don’t like them. Why would you waste an individual’s time like that…is it some deceitful revenge you must do because it makes you feel better about yourself? But now I understand the tactic…you actually WANT to find weak individuals..that is your goal…to see who will bend and fear you right off the back. Trust, if I had experienced anything like that, I would have  to politely take off my Christian and say some things to you. First off, I don’t come from a sheltered background..don’t let my proper annunciation and command of the English language fool you (You wouldn’t last 5 minutes outside your suburban bubble). I know what real GANGS are…I don’t fear you. I fear no man. You can’t do anything to me but say no…oh wow..the end of the world..I don’t get to wear your letters…faint*. Whatever..STILL going to med school..STILL going to succeed…STILL going to make a difference in my community…I joined Zeta because I wanted to surround myself with people who shared my vision and would be my backbone for success.. these other individuals (found in all organizations) only breed other weak minded individuals. Once again, I am glad I had the experience to join Zeta. When I was interested, I respected them and kept my place but not once was I belittled into some little minion. Of course I had to work for it and to this day I am still working for it and I appreciate the experience. But not once was I made to feel like less of a person. If I don’t have to try that hard for Jesus…I’m definitely not about to feel like scum of the Earth because you had letters on and thought you were better…because at the end of this life..AKA land, Delta Land, Zeta Land ..whatever..must be in HELL because I don’t see it in the Bible…so yea…whatever (that’s for another rant).

So I wrote this because I’m continually saddened about the state of black people. That perpetuated sense of slave mentality. It had nothing to do with how these organizations got started, yet the foolishness seeped back in. Perhaps its because these individuals..looking for someone to own them…looking for a reason to feel important…infiltrated and corrupted the entire vision.

SO IF YOU ARE OFFENDED…GOOD…YOU SHOULD BE..BECAUSE IT MUST MEAN THAT THIS APPLIES TO YOU AND YOU NEED TO DO BETTER. If it doesn’t apply to you, you wouldn’t have a reason to be upset. I’m just summarizing my experience with people as a whole since before I became Greek up until now..where I see even more of it. STOP THE FOOLISHNESS…PLEASE.

Thanks. I’m outie. One Love..and Deuces..Cuz good things come in Threes. Over and Out. 

Tameka Floetic Prodigy Dean

Leave a Comment and tell us how you feel about this topic:)

JAM Aiwuyor Politics

Michelle Obama in Haiti…A Necessary Journey to Black Land

Michelle Obama’s Surprise Visit to Haiti

 This Tuesday, Michelle Obama made a surprise visit to Haiti. For security reasons, this trip was not made public but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. She has haters of course but who cares? I’m rebuking their hate and replacing it with our love. Why does this trip matter so much? Because like many disasters, people worldwide rush to aid a cause but over time donations begin to become less and less. We need to remember that the devastating earthquake that took and ravaged the lives of many Haitians was only 3 months ago. Although, U.S. citizens donated approximately $1 billion of aid for Haiti, there is still much more that needs to be done.

As Michelle Obama pointed out, the rainy season is nearing and Haitian people are still camping out in Port-au-Prince. Many people are living in tents and are in need of food and water. The devastation is not over. We can not let this escape our minds just because it isn’t getting the same amount of television time. The citizens of Haiti still need basic life necessities like food, shelter, and water. Some organizations like Syracuse University’s Black Graduate Student Association raised money to purchase tents for people before rainy season begins. Providing a source of shelter could prevent the spread of diseases like the flu and pneumonia. This could prevent unnecessary deaths in the near future.

Pastor Shaun King of the Courageous Church in Atlanta, GA has also started a campaign to provide shelter to Haitians. In response to the devastation, he launched a website called http://www.ahomeinhaiti.org.  By mid February of this year he raised enough money to send over 1100 tents to Haiti. He stated, “We’ve provided over 1100 tents, and let me tell you how big of a deal that is. The entire country of France pledged to send 1000 tents.” So the efforts of this Atlanta church family has already exceeded far beyond an entire “first” world country. His ultimate goal is to send 200,000 waterproof tents. Pastor Shaun King and his congregation is just one example of the work that is still going on.

Over 230,000 people died and many survivors suffered traumatic injuries. About 200,000 lost limbs and have undergone amputations. Now they are in need of further medical attention and prosthetic limbs. Members of the medical community are already starting to take notice. For example, The Shriners hospital in Philadelphia is currently offering free medical care to 3 Haitian girls that lost limbs during the earthquake.

In response to other needs, Wyclef Jean’s Yele Haiti has given out approximately 84,000 hot meals and 700,000 gallons of clean water. Wyclef is also building what he calls Yele village. He told the Philadelphia Inquirer that it will include a school, medical center, orphanage, kitchen, and job search assistance. This is a great start! But with all of our help more and more can be done everyday. 

I know that times are hard for everyone but we have to remember our Haitian brothers and sisters. They still need our help. So please find a way to continue donating or sending things they need. Find a local Haiti food or tent drive and be sure to participate in it. If not, start your own or donate to Haiti relief organizations online. I am definitely going to be putting some of my money aside for http://www.yele.org or www.ahomeinhaiti.org.

Love,

 Jam-the-lbg

JAM Aiwuyor Commentary, Healthy

HIV Negative…I Got My Papers. Do you?

A few days ago I was at work skimming through an old issue of Essence Magazine that I kinda sorta stole from one of my closest sista girlfriends. I got to this article called Capital Offense about the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Washington D.C. According to this article, D.C. is our nation’s leader in AIDS cases, with Black women making up most of the new HIV cases. African Americans make up “84% of newly reported HIV/AIDS cases” in The District of Columbia. Now, usually I skip articles like these because they are very scary to take in. But this time, I forced myself to continue reading and the more I read, the more I realized that I had been underestimating the extent to which HIV/AIDS was affecting the Black community. I kept thinking wow, this is real. HIV/AIDS is real and the topic should not be ignored or avoided because many of us are dying. The poverty that plagues the city plays a key role in this epidemic as nearly 19% of its resident’s are poverty stricken. Needless to say poverty begets crime and drug use, which leads to the exchange of needles, which leads to more cases of HIV/AIDS.

So I decided that I would take a step towards eliminating this epidemic and get myself tested. The last time I was tested was about 9 months ago but the health department encourages follow ups so I scheduled an appointment yesterday. Today, I sat in the Health Department anxiously awaiting my turn, paid my $15, and saw the nurse. My nurse was an old Black Woman with a warm southern accent. She reminded me of someone’s no nonsense but loving Grandmother. She drew blood from my finger, pushing down hard around the opening to get a good drop of blood. After she sent the blood off for testing (which took 20 mins), she decided that we would have a talk.

We went to another office, closed the door and she said to me, “What do you know about HIV?” I was so startled by the question that my little Master’s degree went out the window. I found myself stumbling over words and saying the little bit I could remember. Then she gave me the most elaborate explanation of HIV/AIDS that I have ever heard. She started at the beginning and talked about everything: “The best ways to avoid contracting HIV is abstinence and condoms. Condoms are 99% effective. Don’t exchange needles. Don’t even exchange crack pipes because there may be wounds in your mouth. If you are bisexual, wash your toys in Clorox. HIV/AIDS dies within seconds when it hits the air but if you are positive don’t leave bloody articles around. If you are positive and you have unprotected sex with someone else who is also positive, you may increase your chances of turning HIV into AIDS.”  And so on and so on. I was like a little kid again in school at my desk. Then my teacher said, “Okay now sit out there while I go get your results.”

As I sat, all of the things that she said were running through my head. That’s when I realized that this woman really cared about me. I have been tested on numerous occasions and nobody took the time to see if I really understood what was going on. No one ever took the time to make sure I knew how to protect myself. No one ever took the time to speak to me on a personal human level about getting a HIV test.

When she called my back to the office, she informed me that my results were Negative. Then she gave me another talk about protecting myself. These were her words, “Trust NO ONE. Don’t trust anybody! The Black male has little concern for the Black female. He will go out and have sex with a risky person and then come right back to you and give it to you… A lot of women get HIV from their husbands. A woman I knew died this way… If a black man goes to prison and doesn’t have it already, chances are he has it when he comes out and passes it right along…Some people with HIV get sad and go spread the virus on purpose to share it with others… Don’t trust anybody!…Use a condom.”

The words of this old Black woman stung me. Reality set in. How many times have I engaged in intercourse unprotected with a boyfriend? How many times have we all done this, whether it was a girlfriend or boyfriend (maybe even one that we didn’t really trust)? Then, usually, especially in youth, those relationships don’t last. We don’t realize how many times we are putting our lives at risk. On the subject of the black man, those are her opinions. However, it has been proven time and time again that you may think you’re the only one and in reality you are as Aretha Franklin puts it, in a “Chain of fools.” The results are higher rates of HIV/AIDS cases among Black women than any other category in the U.S. Still, we hardly ever talk about it in our communities. It’s a secret, a hidden all out epidemic.

I just want to say to everyone. Love yourself. My sista Griselda reminded me of that in an article she wrote a few weeks ago. We’ve got to start loving ourselves better. We need to talk about this issue more openly. Churches (the best avenue to reach Black People) need to have some HIV/AIDS classes and testing days. We need to fight for Brothas in prison to have access to condoms. We need to remind Sistas that love for self is more important that HIS love. And we need to destroy this sexist misogynist illusion of Manhood that so many Brothas have fallen susceptible to. We need to replace it with “real” knowledge of self and self love.

So, I just wanted to let you all know about my recent eye opening experience. Please go get tested and tell your friends to get tested. Get educated about HIV/AIDS, so that we can prevent it from spreading. We don’t have to live like this. We can prosper. We can save our communities.

By Jessica Ann Mitchell

info@TheLegaciOnline.com