Tag: #BlackLivesMatter

RUNITBACK FRIDAY-12/8/17

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I hear sleigh bells ring-ting-tingling, too! Let’s get it!

#AnthonyLamarSmith #BlackLivesMatter #Coverup#CorruptPolice #ChangeTheSystem #Resist#FightBack

There are times where I can say with metered rage that I hate St. Louis. Courtesy of  The Riverfront Times, this week, it was revealed there was a coverup during the investigation of the  officer involved shooting involving police murderer of the moment, Jason Stockley. This is an exercpt from the article posted on December 5th:

The missing lab reports would have been crucial to the family’s position, Watkins argues. They show then-officer Stockley’s DNA was on a Taurus handgun recovered from Smith’s car. The now-former cop and his partner chased Smith at high speeds before they rammed his car and Stockley shot him five times.

The ex-cop claimed that Smith was reaching for the gun and that he shot him in self defense.

Yet an analysis done by a St. Louis police lab technician in February 2012 shows that not only was Stockley’s DNA found on a screw head on the gun, but that Smith’s DNA was not present.

I wish I could be shocked. I wish I could be surprised. I wish I could stop wishing. St. Louis recognizes three deities as Almighty:  Money, The Cardinals and the police. When confronted with facts that the police are corrupt, tactics are terror based and you demand your humanity, you’re accused of being anti-police. Indeed, I’m anti-police as they are in the current permutation.They are still an arm of the kinder, gentler Klan. This is why we resist. We know what a lie looks like and refuse to remain silent. He killed Anthony Lamar Smith because he could. Why? There’s a good ol’ boy as a prosecutor whom can’t indict ‘a ham sandwich,’ unless a black person has one. I knew it. I just knew it.

Sponsor a future black lawyer. They are needed. The mentor to Thurgood Marshall was helped by Mark Twain. The $900,000 settlement doesn’t replace Anthony to his family and to quote Sunni Patterson, in her poem We Know This Place, “Not always have we had amnesia.”

Re-damn-sist.

#WalterScott #IsItJustice #Resist #DismantleThePolice #Resist

Michael Slager killed Walter Scott on cell phone  video shot by a bystander. He shot him as he was running away. He then planted a weapon on him. All on video. December 7th he was sentenced to 20 years in prison. I have no joy about this. I want him to understand that black is not weapon, and forgiveness hasn’t reached my heart for this. I am angry. I am beyond frustrated. I wonder what is in white officers whom wield the badge, a car and service weapon to see color as a threat. I wonder if when these scary officers wash their faces and repeat “I feared for my life,” like I teach my children manners. I wonder if there are enough  good officers that notice enough to care. I wonder how many graves are watered with the tears of young widows and broken mothers.

Hope is not something black mothers or any other woman of color is allowed to give up. We fight to remain alive, strong and to hope. My hope was this man be locked up because black life is greater than any settlement, any endorsement deal, any jersey or television appearance or concert ticket.We matter.Our humanity is not a stunt from God.We matte and we will keep hoping. And like Nehemiah whom rebuilt the walls and gates of his place of his birth, we fight as we rebuild.

#AuntieApril #AprilRyan #AprilDRyan #BlackWoman #BlackWomenWork #ChristmasParty #WhiteHouseChristmasParty

I follow Ms. April D. Ryan on Twitter. I love her. I have watched how this ongoing grease fire in Hell’s back acre perpetuating as an administration has treated her, my auntie April. And Sarah Huckabee Sanders thinks she can just over look her, not answer her questions, or answer them halfway…

Yet, April Ryan is not shook or scared or tripping off this! I spoke about the power of influence and strength of presence, April has been a role model for me as a woman right now. She’s shown me to keep showing up, and keep it pushing in the face of people who want you to stop, give up or tone it down for comfort.

April D. Ryan is goals as I pursue this writing. I admire her tenacity, her boldness and her dogged nature—I love that about her. I love that she ain’t phased by bullshit and still pushes to get her job done, make her presence known–seeing her puts steel in my back.

The fact she got snubbed for a Christmas by this madness masquerading as government only lets me know she’s doing her job. In doing that job, she ain’t got to go where they don’t pay her. Or don’t want her.

Washington has enough token negroes. Aunt April is not one of them–besides, words are how we get off the plantation.

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I Got Time: “GET OUT”

I saw GET OUT with my husband of 4 years on our living room couch. I screamed and was almost in tears insisting to my husband that “We had to help Chris!” I had a visceral reaction to hearing “Stay woke!” from Redbone in the car with my children days later.

Dude.

I legit was climbing the couch screaming–being a writer makes your hyper-observant to everything around you and everything you see. This film let me know the brilliance of Jordan Peele and the rich nature of this thing called blackness.

 

Today I found out this movie, that I’m STILL unraveling the Easter Eggs Jordan Peele left 3 months later, was nominated for a Golden Globe.

AWESOME.

I also found out this brilliant movie was nominated in/for the category of Best Comedy.

 

Really?!

Comedy.

COMEDY.

Allow me to be The Loud Girl I spoke about yesterday right quick, because I’m a writer and this is some nonsense…

GET OUT is not a damn comedy. Just because Jordan Peele is one half of a comedy duo on Comedy Central doesn’t mean he can’t write or cannot write anything else! Don’t fix your ballot to cheapen his work to say this is an f’n comedy. The author of this work and screenplay writer, Mr. Peele himself, calls this a social thriller. What the (bleep) about that is (bleep) funny?! WHAT ABOUT THAT IS FUNNY?!

Not a drama, but comedy?

Aight.

Am I upset? Yes. This is artistic discrimination–whether it is intentional? Yeah, it is! Hell yes it is?! What parts were funny?

I’ll wait.

I got time for it.

The over/hypersexualization of black men?

The depression/stigma of black women and men?

The societal lusting of us as a people–body, artistic/athletic gifting, personal style and creativity?

The fact that The Sunken Place indeed is real?

I could go on…but watch the damn movie!

There is nothing funny about this movie! As a writer, as a writer whom is a woman of color, I am utterly f-ckin offended.

The Golden Globes just served a cold slap to Jordan Peele — and Baptist Church mother peppermints disguised as praise — and lowered the quality of the work to something that can be laughed at rather than considered and discussed (which by the way, is one of the purposes of satire)! Granted, Jordan declared that this film/his movie is a ‘societal thriller’ and  ‘doesn’t fit in any genre category.’

Damn that. That being said, it’s not a f-ckin comedy. Even if it is satire. The only funny thing is Jordan ain’t whup nobody ass, and he is in talks to redo The Twilight Zone so, Jordan gon’ get this paper irregardless* of what these dumbass people think…

 

Black. Writers. Matter.

Respect our work.

We are done asking.

 

*-I know this is not a word. It was used for emphasis.

#ImWithHer

I have been in awe of few people, and feared even less. Aside from my Aunt Linda, the only other women under 5’6″ that I have feared are my grandmother, my mother, and State Senator Maria Chappelle Nadal. I adored State Senator the moment I saw her on television before her now undoubtable afro.  I respected her because that same power she housed was the same power I had grown up with and around. That roar, that passion, that element of being nonfuckwitable? Oh, yes. I was familiar with.

Oh, I was familiar with and had that same iron-pushed will bestowed upon me since birth. One portion of that nexus of necessary, saged power that fuels black women.  She is definitely a shero.


After the sweeping tragedies in Ferguson, Riverview and the Shaw neighborhoods in 2014, when all we could do was fight, cry and organize, the only tethering force in the local politics arena was, State Senator Maria Chapelle-Nadal and Alderman Antonio French.

There was a palatable sense of being alone that was perhaps best identified after the first lynching after Emancipation:  free, and trapped.

The realization that your life, those you love are tethered to the will of unstable man and the laws made. The horrible realization that those laws may not protect you, when they are easily used to snare you.

I had met her in passing, during the pig roast in Ferguson, right across the street from the Ferguson Police Department. She wore white, sandals, and her afro and shades were impeccable. She had this presence about her, reminiscent of the what you see in matriarchs. You had to know what you came for to come to her, she was unavailable to foolishness.

I shook her hand as my husband introduced us, and she gave me this warm smile. I wasn’t intimated, not like most people would count being intimated. I didn’t shrink away from her, but I studied her. There was this energy about her that I knew. Hear me now. That I knew.

There was this energy about her I noticed, even in that causal setting, that made me want to know and be wherever she was. This Naomi like presence, this Deborah power, that made me respect her just because she was there. Because she was there.

For so many, local and long distance, #Ferguson was a lucrative and a source of exploitation. “Somewhere people went” to say that they went, and they got their pictures, and cursed out the police, became part of a hashtag, and flood timelines for a day or so.

Even the other legislative membership blew through like so frequent St. Louis thunderstorms, one of the anchoring people I saw, was State Senator Chappelle-Nadal. Whom I called Mother Maria.

There was no Stenger, no Slay, No Dooley, no Dotson, no Belmar, no Chief Tom…

It was us. It was the most isolating, impairing feeling ever…

It will take more than a Facebook comment to make me walk away from her. It will take more than some folk chattering and muttering about said comment to make me forget the woman that called Gov. Nixon a coward (because that’s what he was), stood in stead for a community that was dual exploited on the floor of a state legislature, the woman that sat on West Florissant and was tear gassed because the sitting protestors she was with ‘wouldn’t disperse.’

This is the same woman that I saw on a consistent basis, listen and do, and give and speak when no one else would. Or would be bothered.

We have all said something we wish we would take back because of its interpretation, but not the passion behind it (as my grandmother would say, “Wishing don’t make it so.”).  I have seen other people lash out with worse on social media, especially in matters of race and politics. Sometimes our words give people the key to our Ivory Tower, they allow other people to check us. But…that doesn’t make me walk away from Mother Maria.

In the tradition of leadership before her, like Rosa Parks, Barbara Jordan, Harriet Tubman, Mary Cady Shadd, Mary Church Terrell, and Ida B. Wells Barnett, she has put herself in her constituency, been included when it was or easier to be removed–trading right for easy. Much like Ezekiel, she has sat where we sat. That fact cannot be lost or erased.

Her presence lifted, her voice reminded and her actions among the people whom counted on her gave hope to the strength offered as we press towards justice, peace and recognition that indeed Black Lives Matter.

Thank you, Maria. Thank you.

#WeGotUs