Category: Ramblings

When Kids Die

 

 

This work is not my own, but written by a Father Oracle, Langston Hughes (1902-1967). In keeping with the theme of this month, I thought this fitting. Let us be reminded that life is precious–and black children are entitled to know and see theirs are just as precious as anyone else’s.

Thank you.

JBH.

 When Kids Die

This is for the kids who die,

Black and white,

For kids will die certainly.

The old and rich will live on awhile,

As always,

Eating blood and gold,

Letting kids die.

Kids will die in the swamps of Mississippi

Organizing sharecroppers

Kids will die in the streets of Chicago

Organizing workers

Kids will die in the orange groves of California

Telling others to get together

Whites and Filipinos,

Negroes and Mexicans,

All kinds of kids will die

Who don’t believe in lies, and bribes, and contentment

And a lousy peace.

Of course, the wise and the learned

Who pen editorials in the papers,

And the gentlemen with Dr. in front of their names

White and black,

Who make surveys and write books

Will live on weaving words to smother the kids who die,

And the sleazy courts,

And the bribe-reaching police,

And the blood-loving generals,

And the money-loving preachers

Will all raise their hands against the kids who die,

Beating them with laws and clubs and bayonets and bullets

To frighten the people—

For the kids who die are like iron in the blood of the people—

And the old and rich don’t want the people

To taste the iron of the kids who die,

Don’t want the people to get wise to their own power,

To believe an Angelo Herndon, or even get together

Listen, kids who die—

Maybe, now, there will be no monument for you

Except in our hearts

Maybe your bodies’ll be lost in a swamp

Or a prison grave, or the potter’s field,

Or the rivers where you’re drowned like Leibknecht

But the day will come—

You are sure yourselves that it is coming—

When the marching feet of the masses

Will raise for you a living monument of love,

And joy, and laughter,

And black hands and white hands clasped as one,

And a song that reaches the sky—

The song of the life triumphant

Through the kids who die.

-Langston Hughes

 

[Google images]

Dear Martin

Dear Dr. King:

How marvelous it is to know and read of you! How wonderful it is to know your compassion lead you to action and how your wife has supported you. I wish to thank you for your life and service. I’m sure those two words are rarely heard, and never heard enough. On behalf of those whom benefit from history and hindsight, once more, thank you.

In the fifty years since your passing from living to ancestry and then to legacy, there is still so much to be done, Martin. There are strides, stutter-steps and fighting for every inch of ground we as a people have. There are policies and laws in place now that weren’t fifty years ago, yet there are places in this nation where my almost seventy year old mother would still be called a ‘colored girl.’ There is still so much work laid, yet so much work to do, which at the weight of it all–sometimes threaten to crush my soul, spirit and heart.

As this new movement, this strive to be ‘woke’, has been something akin to what I am sure you, Coretta and all of SNCC and the NAACP saw. There has been a unity emerging which is needed and necessary, yet there is a thread, once pulled reveals motives, hearts, agendas and intentions. It is sometimes such lonely work, Martin. Such lonely work.

What I have decided to, Martin, perhaps what you considered:  work my niche. I have found my niche to be organizing, support, mentoring, refuge and education. I have found that the work, this work of the gospel and social justice, will always be ongoing. The mission field is too wide a swath to tackle alone! I am learning it will not be perfect, I will not be perfect in learning, but there is a restlessness in me which makes me want to keep going. I have to keep going.

Martin, Dr. King, I understand more what Margaret Mitchell meant when she said, “Respectability is the punishment for the wild.” For all the fires I caused and walked away from, I now must start and kindle to others.

I want to thank you for not giving up. I thank you for showing what a possible path to freedom looked like. I thank you for your grace, fierceness, courage and boldness. I don’t believe to change the world as a person of color you have to be ‘the good negro’–and I have always rejected that depiction of you. I know now, to change the world as a person of color you have to know the game you’re playing and play it better.

I’m deciding to play it better.

In Hope, Fight and Faith,

Pastor Jennifer P. Harris, Spirit of Life Church-St. Louis

1808-This Doesn’t Happen In Wakanda

(Remember, 1808 means this is NSFW.)

I spoke about this story when I first heard about it before Christmas. Click here for that initial tea. See this link for this low-grade fuckery out of Hartford University.

I cannot say what is in another woman’s heart, or their faith, but a girl that put my toothbrush in her ass needs to take an L. I in no way can advocate for her on any level. Help me be better Jesus, because I can’t and don’t ask me to!

Chennell “Jazzy” Rowe went to the sentencing hearing of a broad that wiped menstrual blood on her things and spit in her lotion and put her toothbrush in her ass. The Lord says to forgive, but you ain’t gotta do this here! I can’t do it bruh. I can’t do it!

The problem I have with this is the constant assault on black women. The barrage we are subjected to simply for being melaninated! This silly clear trollop said she did these things to her after she found out Jazzy put a video of her snoring on social media.

Aight. 😒

Even with that being so, this shit is uncalled for. There are different ways to handle a nasty b!tc#. I’m from St. Louis, Missouri bruh, Idda handed out an ass-whuppin once I found out, since we one-uppin!

I am proud of Jazzy’s poise. And restraint. I am over how black women are treated and expected to hold to his Mammie expectation that everything done to us by those white folk that don’t know no better just needs to be forgiven!

I’m not advocating vengeance, but fairness. Do I think this is hate crime? I do actually. If the girl was that mad about a roommate, she could have found another one. Point blank.

Miss me with she didn’t know, wasn’t aware and didn’t mean it. When you set your mind to put something I put in my mouth, in your ass, you aim to get all you got coming to you once I find out. Slap ya mammie, because she just as trifling and could teach you no better.