">Yesterday was a me I hardly remember, but a me I'll never forget,
Today is the me I'm changing, but haven't been able to as yet,
Tomorrow is the me I've always wanted, the me I hope to get,
They're all a little different, but all the same I bet.
I never liked looking forward at New Year's. Waiting until December 31st to tell yourself what you ought to do next year seems too much like being shaped by your circumstances, rather than shaping them. At the year end, I like to look back.
This year I learned to walk again, again. Better still, I learned to jog again, sprint again, and play soccer again. In that, there was growth.
There was also growth in my hips and waist. I reached my all-time fattest this time a year ago; 236 in the house. I lost some of it. In that, there was progress.
I progressed from the status of undergraduate to graduate, part-time lackey to full-time employee, walk-foot to car owner, and in many ways (but not all) boy to man. In that, there was change.
I changed jobs, industries, and outlook all-in-one. I no longer fear the future, I only fear that which I might neglect to make of it. In that, there was confidence.
I learned to confide in my friends more than I used to. Now I presume most of them only hope I'll learn how to shut up. I don't feel like the voiceless shoulder i once was, which on the whole helps my relationships. In that, there was harmony.
A harmonious blend is all I could hope for in 2008; harmony between my thoughts and actions, pen and paper, work and play, health and joy, needs and wants. In that, there will be much work.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Cubicle Thoughts: Personal Growth
I sometimes think all philosophies have a genetic makeup: Inescapable traits and features, which are natural results of the environment from which the philosophy was born. The great philosophies exit the intellectual womb from the highest mountains and the deepest caves, and as a result echo timelessly across the landscape. Mine are spawned from within the walls of my cubicle, on the 5th floor, away from the window, and as a result are too soft for an echo, but too loud for a whisper.
Today I wish to announce an admission of weakness, for I am weak enough to admit I admire the conceited. I admire something more than just the confidence needed to be properly conceited, I admire that feeling of triumph that must come with knowing something is yours and seizing it without reflection.
I've spent the last few months mimicking the conceited, making sharp remarks about what is mine and what is not mine by choice. I think I entertained myself more than my audience, and at last I let the joke get out of hand, I found myself torn. For in the quiet moments, I am anything but conceited. Confidence, where art thou? I hardly feel qualified to handle things for which I am surely over-qualified.
In the working world this is quicksand, not knowing your worth, and I'm starting to really understand this. When I left the bank, my branch manager asked why I wanted to leave. I gave her a lie that ended up being the truth, that I was looking for something new. She told me she wanted to promote me within the branch, at a salary that would likely be a tiny bit higher than what I'm making now. I declined. I visited them a few weeks into my new job, and again declined the opportunity to 'grow' in the bank. My manager is a sweetheart don't get me wrong, my quarrel is with TD. And besides, me, in sales? Yuck.
A month into my new job I'm already starting to see that I could handle a promotion. Which is to say, that I am qualified to handle the job one level higher within my department. It's not even so much about the job, I mean after all, me, in sales? Yuck.
But I'm being asked more and more, "What do YOU want?" Answer aside, (as it always is) I think my environment is starting to warn me that it's time for me to leverage myself into a position where the world is mine, for the taking even.
That's a large step. This promotion would be practice, training me to understand that I am worth more than I am given, and to take more than I am offered. When intentions are pure there is virtue in that, and I don't think I've been corrupted quite yet. So i think I might spend the next few months working towards that. After all, it would be a shame for me to leave the department knowing how to sell everything but myself. And besides, it gives me something to do.
Today I wish to announce an admission of weakness, for I am weak enough to admit I admire the conceited. I admire something more than just the confidence needed to be properly conceited, I admire that feeling of triumph that must come with knowing something is yours and seizing it without reflection.
I've spent the last few months mimicking the conceited, making sharp remarks about what is mine and what is not mine by choice. I think I entertained myself more than my audience, and at last I let the joke get out of hand, I found myself torn. For in the quiet moments, I am anything but conceited. Confidence, where art thou? I hardly feel qualified to handle things for which I am surely over-qualified.
In the working world this is quicksand, not knowing your worth, and I'm starting to really understand this. When I left the bank, my branch manager asked why I wanted to leave. I gave her a lie that ended up being the truth, that I was looking for something new. She told me she wanted to promote me within the branch, at a salary that would likely be a tiny bit higher than what I'm making now. I declined. I visited them a few weeks into my new job, and again declined the opportunity to 'grow' in the bank. My manager is a sweetheart don't get me wrong, my quarrel is with TD. And besides, me, in sales? Yuck.
A month into my new job I'm already starting to see that I could handle a promotion. Which is to say, that I am qualified to handle the job one level higher within my department. It's not even so much about the job, I mean after all, me, in sales? Yuck.
But I'm being asked more and more, "What do YOU want?" Answer aside, (as it always is) I think my environment is starting to warn me that it's time for me to leverage myself into a position where the world is mine, for the taking even.
That's a large step. This promotion would be practice, training me to understand that I am worth more than I am given, and to take more than I am offered. When intentions are pure there is virtue in that, and I don't think I've been corrupted quite yet. So i think I might spend the next few months working towards that. After all, it would be a shame for me to leave the department knowing how to sell everything but myself. And besides, it gives me something to do.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Are You Not Entertained?
I think a long time ago we all decided whether or not we wanted to live life or watch it happen. It was a subconscious choice made around the time our parents or our teachers first asked us, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
What do I want to be, she says! I want to be me! I like me! I get to play soccer when it's warm out and sometimes when I come home for lunch mom makes hot dogs.
I remember the first time I got away with a lie in school was when my Grade 2 teacher asked me what I want to be when I grow up. I even planned the lie out, it couldn't fail. Too many people said they wanted to be a Cop, because Officer John had made his yearly trip to our school to remind us that he's here to protect us with his gun if necessary. Anyway, I figured I would make up a few choices, and hopefully all three of them wouldn't be taken by the time she got around to me. I can't remember the other two, I just remember being upset that Cop was no longer an option, because my dad was a Cop of sorts, so if anyone was entitled it should have been me; regardless, my spoken choice was that I wanted to be a fireman.
Yea right. Fire? I don't even like it when it's too hot out. In grade 8 I knew my parents wanted to hear something functional, something in the sciences, like my older, taller, thinner, less of a screw-up brother. By this time I was a lot better at lying about myself. I realised the best way to do that was to lie to myself. I had long-since convinced myself that I had a future in chemistry even though I only found it remotely entertaining. Better still, I was good at it, I had the first 12 elements of the Table memorised before my friends knew what an atom was.
I'll end the story there for two reasons, the first being that I've strayed from the point of writing this note in the middle of the night, and second because this is the perfect time to revisit it!
I think a lot of us just choose to do in life what entertains us. I was reading some Schopenhauer, and he said something along the lines that as humans we live for only two things. First, for survival from death (sustinance, shelter and so on) and second, survival from boredom. I was laughing when I first read it, but I wonder how many of my friends are motivated by anything other than entertainment and obligation.
Or anyone really; you ever notice that in places where there's limited options, that's where the truly inspiring Oprah'esque stories of living for a purpose are bred? And what about stress? 'Over there' as I like to put it people get upset about poverty, war, having no way out. Now I'm hearing studies show most university graduates are stressing because they have too many options, and they 'don't know what they want to do in their lives?' Sounds to me like the one kid who's sick because he hasn't had anything to eat, and the other kid who's sick because all he's ever had was candy, and now he's had his fill.
But has he learned his lesson? I'm looking for someone to tell me I'm wrong not because they feel insulted, but because I'm just wrong. Why do you do what you do? Why did you choose that and nothing else? Surely obligation or entertainment take up the lion's share of your rationale, n'est-ce pas?
Really, ask yourself. Like today maybe. I did. The first answer I gave myself was, "Well, gotta pay the bills." That's the answer you'll prob'ly give yourself for your first 3 or 4 jobs you'll work. Gotta pay the bills. Whose bills? Your own self-imposed bills. The condo you want to live in, the car you want to drive, the places you want to eat, the phone you want to carry and the contraceptives you're too embarassed to buy wholesale, these are all bills that were only thrust upon you by your own desire for comfort and convenience.
I'm not hating on self-imposed obligations, in fact in a sense I think that's the nobler of the two options, sometimes. If you've only convinced yourself that 'this is your purpose, this is what you have to do,' then I don't think you've done the world a huge service, but at least you can still do some good while you're at it.
But what about doing something just because you like it? As odd as it sounds, I think there's a world of difference between doing something because it makes you happy and doing something because you're happy doing it.
I see a lot of people settling for doing something cuz it makes them happy. I go to the movies because it makes me happy. I put whip cream in my frap because it makes me happy. All these things are entertainment. But when you're entertained, you are only watching, observing, laughing, smiling. I think that this is a problem when you're only watching, observing, and smiling through life. It goes on and on, but I won't. You know the story, I had kids because it makes me happy, we bought a dog because, do volunteer work because, and so on into the darkness.
I don't go to the movies because I'm happy doing it; because I feel like "I could do this forever!" (Semicolon or comma there? Any english majors? I'm trying to suggest that I *don't* feel I could do that forever. It's like a second because. Anyway...) I go to the movies for what it's worth, for the 2hours of enjoyment I expect from it and no more. And if that movie is unexpectedly longer than 3 hours, I'll in fact be quite displeased. But when you really love something, when it is that thing that you really want to do in life, that thing that you do because you are happy doing it, don't you wish that you could do it forever? Only then, I think, can you wholly devote yourself to something and be happy, without need of distractions, and obligations to 'keep you busy.' I think this is what the Einsteins and the Gandhis and the Woods really have that we all yearn for. This so-called purpose.
But like I said, I think a lot of us sold out early, at least those of us who complain about not knowing what they want to do in life. A lot of us may have just never thought about it. But they are all robots.
And what about me? Or rather, what of your need for me? Does the plague of entertainment stain not only life-goals but perhaps friendships as well? Could it be that I am here only for your entertainment? This is the reason I never wanted to be a comedian - despite my prowess at the science of wisecrackery - I couldn't live with that being the case. More importantly, this is why I stopped by mini-life-story just before it got to the juicy part. Were you reading along because you were entertained, or because you really wanted to see how the story would tie into my point?
The broader question I guess is, are you my friend because I make you happy, or because you're happy being my friend?
Answer me not with words. For as you can see, I already have many, too many.
What do I want to be, she says! I want to be me! I like me! I get to play soccer when it's warm out and sometimes when I come home for lunch mom makes hot dogs.
I remember the first time I got away with a lie in school was when my Grade 2 teacher asked me what I want to be when I grow up. I even planned the lie out, it couldn't fail. Too many people said they wanted to be a Cop, because Officer John had made his yearly trip to our school to remind us that he's here to protect us with his gun if necessary. Anyway, I figured I would make up a few choices, and hopefully all three of them wouldn't be taken by the time she got around to me. I can't remember the other two, I just remember being upset that Cop was no longer an option, because my dad was a Cop of sorts, so if anyone was entitled it should have been me; regardless, my spoken choice was that I wanted to be a fireman.
Yea right. Fire? I don't even like it when it's too hot out. In grade 8 I knew my parents wanted to hear something functional, something in the sciences, like my older, taller, thinner, less of a screw-up brother. By this time I was a lot better at lying about myself. I realised the best way to do that was to lie to myself. I had long-since convinced myself that I had a future in chemistry even though I only found it remotely entertaining. Better still, I was good at it, I had the first 12 elements of the Table memorised before my friends knew what an atom was.
I'll end the story there for two reasons, the first being that I've strayed from the point of writing this note in the middle of the night, and second because this is the perfect time to revisit it!
I think a lot of us just choose to do in life what entertains us. I was reading some Schopenhauer, and he said something along the lines that as humans we live for only two things. First, for survival from death (sustinance, shelter and so on) and second, survival from boredom. I was laughing when I first read it, but I wonder how many of my friends are motivated by anything other than entertainment and obligation.
Or anyone really; you ever notice that in places where there's limited options, that's where the truly inspiring Oprah'esque stories of living for a purpose are bred? And what about stress? 'Over there' as I like to put it people get upset about poverty, war, having no way out. Now I'm hearing studies show most university graduates are stressing because they have too many options, and they 'don't know what they want to do in their lives?' Sounds to me like the one kid who's sick because he hasn't had anything to eat, and the other kid who's sick because all he's ever had was candy, and now he's had his fill.
But has he learned his lesson? I'm looking for someone to tell me I'm wrong not because they feel insulted, but because I'm just wrong. Why do you do what you do? Why did you choose that and nothing else? Surely obligation or entertainment take up the lion's share of your rationale, n'est-ce pas?
Really, ask yourself. Like today maybe. I did. The first answer I gave myself was, "Well, gotta pay the bills." That's the answer you'll prob'ly give yourself for your first 3 or 4 jobs you'll work. Gotta pay the bills. Whose bills? Your own self-imposed bills. The condo you want to live in, the car you want to drive, the places you want to eat, the phone you want to carry and the contraceptives you're too embarassed to buy wholesale, these are all bills that were only thrust upon you by your own desire for comfort and convenience.
I'm not hating on self-imposed obligations, in fact in a sense I think that's the nobler of the two options, sometimes. If you've only convinced yourself that 'this is your purpose, this is what you have to do,' then I don't think you've done the world a huge service, but at least you can still do some good while you're at it.
But what about doing something just because you like it? As odd as it sounds, I think there's a world of difference between doing something because it makes you happy and doing something because you're happy doing it.
I see a lot of people settling for doing something cuz it makes them happy. I go to the movies because it makes me happy. I put whip cream in my frap because it makes me happy. All these things are entertainment. But when you're entertained, you are only watching, observing, laughing, smiling. I think that this is a problem when you're only watching, observing, and smiling through life. It goes on and on, but I won't. You know the story, I had kids because it makes me happy, we bought a dog because, do volunteer work because, and so on into the darkness.
I don't go to the movies because I'm happy doing it; because I feel like "I could do this forever!" (Semicolon or comma there? Any english majors? I'm trying to suggest that I *don't* feel I could do that forever. It's like a second because. Anyway...) I go to the movies for what it's worth, for the 2hours of enjoyment I expect from it and no more. And if that movie is unexpectedly longer than 3 hours, I'll in fact be quite displeased. But when you really love something, when it is that thing that you really want to do in life, that thing that you do because you are happy doing it, don't you wish that you could do it forever? Only then, I think, can you wholly devote yourself to something and be happy, without need of distractions, and obligations to 'keep you busy.' I think this is what the Einsteins and the Gandhis and the Woods really have that we all yearn for. This so-called purpose.
But like I said, I think a lot of us sold out early, at least those of us who complain about not knowing what they want to do in life. A lot of us may have just never thought about it. But they are all robots.
And what about me? Or rather, what of your need for me? Does the plague of entertainment stain not only life-goals but perhaps friendships as well? Could it be that I am here only for your entertainment? This is the reason I never wanted to be a comedian - despite my prowess at the science of wisecrackery - I couldn't live with that being the case. More importantly, this is why I stopped by mini-life-story just before it got to the juicy part. Were you reading along because you were entertained, or because you really wanted to see how the story would tie into my point?
The broader question I guess is, are you my friend because I make you happy, or because you're happy being my friend?
Answer me not with words. For as you can see, I already have many, too many.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Tangent Express: Media, Race, and the Suppression of Thought
Please excuse the following cliche, for I will have much to say about the 'poor' Minorities of America. This is not an essay, it only smells like one.
A couple of weeks ago the Dixie Chicks won 5 grammy awards, largely because of the tribulations endured after their comments about "being ashamed to be from texas" because of George W's involvements overseas. They went through a lot and bounced back, I'm not taking anything away from their struggle, but here's what I think:
Not being a fan of George isn't exactly a taboo opinion. Rumour has it, 51% of Americans didn't like him to begin with. And yet the media hyped up this paying out of 5 awards for a tidbit of independent thought as some sort of victory or large step forward. I argue that this, much like all the other 'quick-fix' payoffs is actually a tiny step forward followed by two large steps back.
The point of this Dixie Chicks example is to show that our culture doesn't really want to entertain radical thought, it just wants to make popular those thoughts which were already quietly held by the majority. But enough about the Dixie Chicks, I don`t even like country.
So now here are my two problems:
a) Using quick payoffs to suppress revolt
b) Using expression to suppress thought
Of 'a' there are so many examples, and the Dixie Chicks isn't even the most recent example. There was this Inus character who called the Women's NCAA basketball team a bunch of nappy headed hoes, and when it began to really stir contraversy the black people of america were 'rewarded' with an apology, much like how they were rewarded by Kremer by having a talk with their 'representative' Rev. Al Sharpton. (For more on this, see Hugh Hibbert's note "Weighing In...").
But it doesn't stop there, Mel Gibson apologizes to a rabbi and suddenly there's no longer any reason to crucify him. Mohammed Ali's Olympic Gold is given back to him a few decades after he is stripped of it for his beliefs of peace, and suddenly America has made ammendmants for years of racial disharmony; the same ammendments they supposedly made years before when they finally told Ray Charles he could play in Georgia again. Tell a gay or two that he may act, become famous, and perhaps even hold an office, but that he may never marry within the confines of his country.
The theme of all of these things are the same, each event propogates the illusion of positive movements. America, as a leader of the world, is in the business of globalization, but you can't convince the world to be globalized with you if the rest of the world hates you. In response to that, this is what they do. Every fiscal quarter America has to give out its report to its shareholders (the developed world) and in that report they have to show the developed world that they have made actions and instituted programs towards human harmony. But like most corporate reports, this is all gloss and fanfare. Between every token ribbon-cutting ceremony of equity and brotherhood, there still runs a consistent stream of injustice and hatred. So long as we continue to buy into these reports, there will be no need for America to actually make changes. The quick fix will continue to supress revolt.
For 'b' I go back to the example of Rev. Al Sharpton, or his predecessor Jesse Jackson, or further back, the early Martin Luther King. The problem that surrounds these characters is the same problem that surrounded gangster rappers such as Ice Cube and Tupac: As long as one black man is yelling loud enough, he can drown out the voices of a million others.
To be brief, I have the feeling America turned up the volume of its peaceful black pastor Dr. King mostly to deaden the noise of the tens of thousands of blacks who felt the resolution was not going to be peaceful. And while the good doctor chanted that he had a Dream, under the noise of this there was much commotion over the death of Malcolm X and the imprisonment of Bobby Seale. Lest America have to be plagued by the radical and violent thoughts of the 'rogue' Black Panthers or the Black Muslims of America. At least back then they were masking good with good. If you *had* to let one man speak for all the blacks, Dr. King was a pretty good choice.
As a side note, once Martin began to write extensive radical anti-vietnam literature, he too was silenced, by death, showing that radical opinion still was not supported.
So who represented us afterwards? As the 80s rolled around it was no secret that blacks were angry. 'By any means necessary' was engraved in hearts and printed on the posters of Malcolm holding his rifle. The ghettos grew and from that, so did Gangsta rap. Suddenly what it meant to be black man in the USA wasn't an afro, a silent protest, defined features and darker skin, you had to be an angry nigga that rhymed.
But as rappers and rap-lovers alike protested the sterotype that gangsta rap's popularity inflicted upon us, our political 'leaders' took the helm, and this became an even greater problem for us than gangsta rap. For as long as we have 'black political leaders' instead of 'political leaders who are black' the public will always be muted by them.
I'm not sure why Jesse Jackson's approval of the term African American gave anyone the right to use it, but I wouldn't mind if the term was put to rest. If you ask me, appending someone's title with their ancestor's continent is the most racist move that has been made.
For the non-racist, I never feared him calling me a nigger and meaning it, so I have little comfort in the fact that *now* he respects my ancestral roots. For the racist, this only goes to show that you're not even willing to take the extra step to find out the country from which I, or my parents, or my parent's parents, came. To you, I'm just, 'from over there' as opposed to right here in front of you. Not much difference in calling me 'one of dem niggers' and 'one of dem african americans' if you really mean it.
Likewise, I don't even know who came up with the idea of reserving a month of our each year to devote (non-exclusively) to black history, but that to me has always had token written all over it. How much is really learned? Ask yourself, through all of the black history months, how much literature have you read about Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks and Dr. King, and how little you've read about the radicals; the Panthers, Malcolm, the opposers of the Chitlin' Circuit, Nina Simone's 'Mississipi God Damn', Marley, Belafonte, Garvey and Selassie's politics. And why just blacks? Have we not all struggled?
The answer to that is exactly what bugs me today, if I may repeat: Our popular culture does not support radical thought, it only wishes to make popular those silent opinions which are already widely-held. And these token publicity stunts of equality further suppress the thought.
Why write it out? Why say all of this? Because I believe that suppressing the thought is the easiest way to suppress the will. Everything starts with an idea, and if there are no radical ideas there will be no radical action. And for anyone who has read this far, you probably agree that we live in a time that is in need of radical change.
A couple of weeks ago the Dixie Chicks won 5 grammy awards, largely because of the tribulations endured after their comments about "being ashamed to be from texas" because of George W's involvements overseas. They went through a lot and bounced back, I'm not taking anything away from their struggle, but here's what I think:
Not being a fan of George isn't exactly a taboo opinion. Rumour has it, 51% of Americans didn't like him to begin with. And yet the media hyped up this paying out of 5 awards for a tidbit of independent thought as some sort of victory or large step forward. I argue that this, much like all the other 'quick-fix' payoffs is actually a tiny step forward followed by two large steps back.
The point of this Dixie Chicks example is to show that our culture doesn't really want to entertain radical thought, it just wants to make popular those thoughts which were already quietly held by the majority. But enough about the Dixie Chicks, I don`t even like country.
So now here are my two problems:
a) Using quick payoffs to suppress revolt
b) Using expression to suppress thought
Of 'a' there are so many examples, and the Dixie Chicks isn't even the most recent example. There was this Inus character who called the Women's NCAA basketball team a bunch of nappy headed hoes, and when it began to really stir contraversy the black people of america were 'rewarded' with an apology, much like how they were rewarded by Kremer by having a talk with their 'representative' Rev. Al Sharpton. (For more on this, see Hugh Hibbert's note "Weighing In...").
But it doesn't stop there, Mel Gibson apologizes to a rabbi and suddenly there's no longer any reason to crucify him. Mohammed Ali's Olympic Gold is given back to him a few decades after he is stripped of it for his beliefs of peace, and suddenly America has made ammendmants for years of racial disharmony; the same ammendments they supposedly made years before when they finally told Ray Charles he could play in Georgia again. Tell a gay or two that he may act, become famous, and perhaps even hold an office, but that he may never marry within the confines of his country.
The theme of all of these things are the same, each event propogates the illusion of positive movements. America, as a leader of the world, is in the business of globalization, but you can't convince the world to be globalized with you if the rest of the world hates you. In response to that, this is what they do. Every fiscal quarter America has to give out its report to its shareholders (the developed world) and in that report they have to show the developed world that they have made actions and instituted programs towards human harmony. But like most corporate reports, this is all gloss and fanfare. Between every token ribbon-cutting ceremony of equity and brotherhood, there still runs a consistent stream of injustice and hatred. So long as we continue to buy into these reports, there will be no need for America to actually make changes. The quick fix will continue to supress revolt.
For 'b' I go back to the example of Rev. Al Sharpton, or his predecessor Jesse Jackson, or further back, the early Martin Luther King. The problem that surrounds these characters is the same problem that surrounded gangster rappers such as Ice Cube and Tupac: As long as one black man is yelling loud enough, he can drown out the voices of a million others.
To be brief, I have the feeling America turned up the volume of its peaceful black pastor Dr. King mostly to deaden the noise of the tens of thousands of blacks who felt the resolution was not going to be peaceful. And while the good doctor chanted that he had a Dream, under the noise of this there was much commotion over the death of Malcolm X and the imprisonment of Bobby Seale. Lest America have to be plagued by the radical and violent thoughts of the 'rogue' Black Panthers or the Black Muslims of America. At least back then they were masking good with good. If you *had* to let one man speak for all the blacks, Dr. King was a pretty good choice.
As a side note, once Martin began to write extensive radical anti-vietnam literature, he too was silenced, by death, showing that radical opinion still was not supported.
So who represented us afterwards? As the 80s rolled around it was no secret that blacks were angry. 'By any means necessary' was engraved in hearts and printed on the posters of Malcolm holding his rifle. The ghettos grew and from that, so did Gangsta rap. Suddenly what it meant to be black man in the USA wasn't an afro, a silent protest, defined features and darker skin, you had to be an angry nigga that rhymed.
But as rappers and rap-lovers alike protested the sterotype that gangsta rap's popularity inflicted upon us, our political 'leaders' took the helm, and this became an even greater problem for us than gangsta rap. For as long as we have 'black political leaders' instead of 'political leaders who are black' the public will always be muted by them.
I'm not sure why Jesse Jackson's approval of the term African American gave anyone the right to use it, but I wouldn't mind if the term was put to rest. If you ask me, appending someone's title with their ancestor's continent is the most racist move that has been made.
For the non-racist, I never feared him calling me a nigger and meaning it, so I have little comfort in the fact that *now* he respects my ancestral roots. For the racist, this only goes to show that you're not even willing to take the extra step to find out the country from which I, or my parents, or my parent's parents, came. To you, I'm just, 'from over there' as opposed to right here in front of you. Not much difference in calling me 'one of dem niggers' and 'one of dem african americans' if you really mean it.
Likewise, I don't even know who came up with the idea of reserving a month of our each year to devote (non-exclusively) to black history, but that to me has always had token written all over it. How much is really learned? Ask yourself, through all of the black history months, how much literature have you read about Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks and Dr. King, and how little you've read about the radicals; the Panthers, Malcolm, the opposers of the Chitlin' Circuit, Nina Simone's 'Mississipi God Damn', Marley, Belafonte, Garvey and Selassie's politics. And why just blacks? Have we not all struggled?
The answer to that is exactly what bugs me today, if I may repeat: Our popular culture does not support radical thought, it only wishes to make popular those silent opinions which are already widely-held. And these token publicity stunts of equality further suppress the thought.
Why write it out? Why say all of this? Because I believe that suppressing the thought is the easiest way to suppress the will. Everything starts with an idea, and if there are no radical ideas there will be no radical action. And for anyone who has read this far, you probably agree that we live in a time that is in need of radical change.
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