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Diary

Ferguson, Social Media, and Good White Folks

December 3, 2014 by Rashid

It seems as though we are entering into a new era of the civil rights movement and the onus is on white people to put their heads into the game.

There are many other writers who are versed in social justice generally and Ferguson specifically that can address the details of what’s going on globally.  As for me, I just want to focus on what I’m observing in my own social media sphere.

I see people of color who are hurting.  I am hurting.  We’ve had enough.  We are tired of being the only people speaking out when another black person gets killed at the hands of the police, or at the hands of cowards who think they are the police.

We’re tired of being the go-to people when good white folks need to get their thoughts organized.  But thankfully, good white folks are finally getting it!  This time, things have been different for me.  I haven’t been sent a lot of personal messages on what white people should do, or say, or how they should act, or where they should volunteer or donate.

Now I see my white friends (my real white friends, not the ones I happen to be connected to) actually engaging their own circles.  They are speaking out first on these injustices.  They are being intentional in their outreach to each other.  They are acknowledging their whiteness and the privilege it entails.

In fact, #WhitePrivilegeWednesday arose as a means of white folks talking to each other about their privilege.  It’s a day I get to be silent (if I choose) and let white people talk it out themselves.  I can only do so much as a magical negro patient black man person, but white folks can actually listen to each other, challenge each other, and somehow come to an understanding on the complex issues we’re facing.

I am proud of Good White Folks.  They are also fighting against the fallacy of “black on black violence” and other distracting debates.

And you know what?

It’s all because they learned how to Google the same shit I Googled when I needed to learn more about these things myself.  They follow the same blogs I do, read the same books I have, and otherwise educated themselves.  They don’t rely solely on my worldview.  However, they do give me the space to be pissed, to cuss, and to say “Fuck white people” without them chiming in with “Not all white people.”

There is still a lot of work to be done, though.  Good White Folks still have to educate the white folks who call us “animals” and “savages” when we riot and loot.  They have to educate the white folks who believe in the myth of the bootstraps.  They have so much work to do, but they can do it.

But I’ll tell you one thing…it took me years to get to the point where I am only connected to white people who are committed to dismantling white supremacy.

And…

Trust…

I know a-plenty of black folks who rely on white supremacy to build their own personal wealth.  I mean, I did go to Georgetown.  As my mom told me at a young age, when the revolution comes, some black folks are gonna have to go, too.

Filed Under: Culture, Diary Tagged With: #whiteprivilegewednesday, Ferguson, White Privilege Wednesday

“We will not accept your cages…”

December 2, 2014 by Rashid

Filed Under: Culture, Diary Tagged With: Ferguson, Killer Mike

A Micro-Renaissance

November 26, 2014 by Rashid

I feel as though I haven’t written in months.  I probably haven’t.  That will change.

The things in Ferguson have been weighing heavily on my mind, as has the death of my fraternity brother Marion Barry.

But that was yesterday.

It’s time to come back.

Thank you to the women in this picture, my sister-authors, for helping me bounce back.  And you ain’t even know it.

More to come.

Filed Under: Diary, Photography, Writing

Our Love for Brother Marion Barry is Complicated

November 23, 2014 by Rashid

barry

Brother Rashid Darden, Editor of Notable Alphas, pays tribute to Brother Marion Barry.

” I don’t want normal, and easy, and simple. I want. . .I want painful, difficult, devastating, life-changing, extraordinary love. Don’t you want that, too?”  –Olivia Pope, Scandal

And so did the citizens of the District of Columbia want a love just as complicated.  A love that had to be explained to the rest of America; to the transplants and transients who arrived here with their carpetbags; and to the racists in Congress who–some to this day–don’t believe in the ability of Washingtonians to govern themselves.

This was our Brother Marion Barry (Beta Xi – LeMoyne-Owen College), who we loved complicatedly, unrelentingly, from the depths of our souls to the marble stairs of the District Building.

Much will be said about Brother Barry’s life of contradictions, from his personal troubles to his investments in the youth and the elderly; from his romantic commitments and liaisons to his uncensored language in council meetings.  Those wanting more depth on those topics may read many tributes sure to come.  Some will be the typical Democratic, tone deaf, “We were close friends” tributes rife with the illusion of proximity.  Others will be fair and balanced, scholarly pieces.

But today, I simply mourn him as my Brother and as a native Washingtonian.

When I was in the fifth grade, sometime during 1989 or 1990, I was somehow chosen to shadow Mr. Peter Parham, DC’s Director of Human Services and a member of Marion Barry’s cabinet.  Several of us were selected to go to his office, but before I knew it, I was spirited away from the other kids, who were shadowing office workers, and I found myself in a car with Mr. Parham, on my way to a cabinet meeting.

It all happened so fast.  Before I knew it, I was shaking hands with a bunch of cabinet members and ultimately, Marion Barry himself.  He was larger than life in personality, just as he seemed on television, yet someone accessible to me, like an uncle or neighbor.  Like many of my family, he had that southern twang in his voice, signifying that he, too, had migrated here from warmer places.  It was a great moment for me.

The major focus of this meeting was the drug trade.  Police representatives brought in all these products that the drug traffickers were using to smuggle drugs into the city:  soda cans, bottles of cleaning products, anything you can imagine. I remember, once I got home, feeling a deep sense of irony that the focus of the cabinet meeting was about drugs.  I cannot recall if my visit was before or after his arrest, but the suspicion of his drug use was rampant, even among fifth grade playground gossip.

That’s what life was like in DC in the 80s and 90s when you loved Mayor Marion Barry.  You knew, but you didn’t care.  You cared, but you didn’t know.  You loved him anyway, because he definitely loved you.  He was a civil rights leader who had assumed the next logical level of responsibility to the people.  So few did.  So few could.

I would see Brother Barry several more times as a child.  He was a special guest at the annual Cherry Blossom poster contest awards (hosted by Effi Barry, his now-deceased ex-wife).  He was a special guest speaker at my graduation, as he was practically everyone’s.  We all know his speech:  “Education is like Coca-Cola–it’s the real thing.”

But the damage of his addiction had been done.  Even though he returned to the Mayor’s office, and subsequently city council, people in my generation were tired of being the laughing stock of the nation.  We loved him, but it was hard to explain him.  We loved him, but we needed more.  We needed different.  We were tired of the complicated love, the dangerous love.  This love had transformed us, but it was time to let go.

Brother Marion Barry was still on the scene, though.  Just because I had emotionally let go of my attachment to the “Mayor for Life” doesn’t mean he had let go of me, DC, and the people who lived here.  He remained steadfast in his career as a politician, but also ensured that his own story was preserved and told.  Just this year, he published his autobiography.  A few years ago, he cooperated with the production of a documentary about his life.  (Links below.)

I am also personally proud that he was, for a period, affiliated with my chapter of initiation.  Mu Lambda Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha in Washington, DC was always proud to include him as one of their most notable members.

Today, we are sad.  As Washingtonians.  As DC residents.  As Brothers of Alpha.  His leadership changed my life.  His life changed my leadership.  He was my mayor.  He was my black brother.  He was my fraternity brother.  My love for Brother Barry hurt.  It was extraordinary.  It changed me.

And I am grateful that it was all of those things.

Rest in power, Brother Barry.

The Nine Lives of Marion Barry (Documentary DVD)

The Nine Lives of Marion Barry (Amazon Video on Demand)

Mayor for Life: The Incredible Story of Marion Barry, Jr.

Filed Under: Diary, Fraternalism Tagged With: alpha phi alpha, Fraternalism, Marion Barry, Mu Lambda

Richard II

September 18, 2014 by Rashid

Richard-II-2000-361x541

Last night, a character on Red Band Society (great new show on Fox) recited a line from Henry V. And it was cute or whatever, but it reminded me how I fell in love with Samuel West’s portrayal of Richard II when I went to England way back in 2000. Truth be told, I had to creatively gain credits in order to graduate on time, and Georgetown’s “Shakespeare: Text and Performance” course was a good way to earn six credits and two courses in four weeks. Plus, I’d get to see the UK. (Note:  It looks like they shortened the program.  That’s too bad.)

I believe we saw six (or seven?) plays all together, four of which were Shakespearean (Richard II, Henry IV parts one and two, and Romeo and Juliet), and then The Rivals and the the Mystery Cycles (religious vignettes) at York Minster.

(Typing those words makes me feel smarter than I really am.)

I am still friends with several folks I met on that trip and I really want to go back to the UK some day, for an extended period if I can. Reflecting on it, I felt both incredibly aware of my blackness in England yet also incredibly free. Certainly the British have racism and racists and privilege and all of that (and I would NEVER go back to York if I could help it), but I also felt like I was part of the diaspora in ways I do not feel here in the states.

I suppose in some ways when you are not home, and you’re black, you look for color everywhere. And England is indeed colorful.

Back to Richard II. The version we saw was at “The Other Place” which was the smallest of the three theaters making up the Royal Shakespeare Company’s properties. It was a “white box” with minimal scenery and gorgeous costumes designed by Sue Willmington.

I really wish there was a DVD of this performance. It was so good.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to have traveled overseas at an age where it mattered so much in my development into manhood and into writerhood. I look at this performance of Richard II and I can see now how much it informs the stories I tell, particularly that my protagonists are often not terribly sympathetic and are deeply flawed.

Just a little trip down memory lane.  Sometimes I am amazed at the things I was able to do before I learned how to worry.

Filed Under: Culture, Diary, Writing Tagged With: Red Band Society, Richard II, Royal Shakespeare Company, Stratford-upon-Avon

Book Rashid Darden as your next guest speaker

September 12, 2014 by Rashid

20130223-0015Novelist Rashid Darden is available for guest lectures on fraternalism, the nonprofit sector, literature, and more.  Click here for details!

 

Filed Under: Diary Tagged With: Great Black Speakers, Rashid Darden

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