Black Lighting,Black lives movement and Black on Black Crime Victim Blaming craze

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Superheroe movies are trending and with that the new need to find an antihero to blame for the ruckus on society. The faux world of alternate universe have seemed to cover all of our real universe issues and finding a heroe to save us is our youth (and less than youth) only recourse.

Upon watching Black Lightning tv show and other sagas portraying civilian watch group action it is plain clear that once again Hollywood wants to team us up against each other. It is pretty clear that Black Lightning vigilante status versus other superhero status paints a clear image of the ‘lesser than’ status of black or brown people who are searching for justice within their own communities. The deeper we dig, the more we find that a struggle within our own communities in real life has more to do with our stories and connections than what is portrayed on TV. Our drug dealers are our family members, our friends, our addicts are our parents, siblings or ourselves…

Superheroes, if they were real and were going after our usual suspects is dangerous and painful. The snitching over our own is, not only a real betrayal of trust within our Afro communities but also a painful strife that encopases an internal conflict of self righteousness or self hate.

The question why is only answered with historical lessons taught to us by our real superheroes. Martin, Malcolm, Madiba, the Black Panthers, Assata, Dead Prez and Tupac told us how we have been set up.

The wolf that sucks on its own blood after the hunter puts a blade on it’s tongue, is the best metaphor to sustain my claim. Thinking; that the do with the end of the bad of a dealer will bring peace is a shallow pursue of becoming right with the white – rich – way of things. Forgotten were the days of the belief that we are less and therefore subjected to their rules and regs. The reasons why the dealer is dealing or why the addict is fiending are forgotten to the superhero wannabes.

The main quests that are left to walk lead us to deserving answers .. answers to questions like; why; why our stories are forgotten or subjected.

The fitting in to the status quo makes Black Lightning angrily turn on to vigilante… a persona thay evidently fit him ‘not quite right..’ becoming to others a most the popular resolve to your community wellness…

Super power heals but also strains. Are WE to put off the fires ignighted with THEIR fuck offs and OUR blood or will WE be the ones to connect to the spiderwebs of stories and entanglements that bring OUR black face to dace with the mirrors of our ancestors… Maybe that’s the real superpower that makes us Godesses and Gods , the sacrifice in normalcy that makes them scarrrreddd…

Leguizamo, Latin history for morons and the search for justice

My boo recently dished out mad money to take us to John Leguizamo’s play Latin History for Morons. There we were sitting in first row hoping Leguizamo tore a new one on the wack ass history we had been fed by the white washed legacy of our predecessors. Leguizamo questioned once and again the bullshit we were fed in school but it always felt as he was trying hard to belong to a club that didn’t want him.

The play was fun and the depictions of the colonizers of America by the writer and actor were so on point that it made me feel like I was time traveling. The righteous bookworm in me felt engaged when John whipped book after book of alternative options for the avid reader. But the search for a Latin American heroe was never quenched for me since it seemed that the only ones he found were uncle Tom ass kissing-war ridden-american wannabes. That was a let down that made me guilty when telling my boo the play was aight and not the bomb. See Latin America has so many heroes both female and male. Our history is so filled with art, consciousness and love that finding a hero to leave out is the real challenge. The search for someone to look up to is not really a problem. Leguizamo made it look like a year long mission when it mos definitely isn’t. I don’t know if Leguizamo is a demokkkrap or a republican but heroes galore for either one exist within the anals of our history books and fame. Regardless of the political view the fame and glory of our people lives on for decades to come.

I recently learned that Leguizamo sat a side of the mayor of New York and of Puerto Rico demanding justice for the victims of hurricane Maria in a meeting in the Bronx and it made me think about the stand point of the play. Is Leguizamo’s goal to have the USA recognize the legacy of Latinos contributions to their history and to gain recognition for it? or is it to express the value of the diverse countrie’s history as their own entities?

This delema opens a Pandora box of debates. See in the play Leguizamo points out the value of the multiple contributions to the many US military operations by the Latino people and demands these are recognized and valued but I wonder, is that what we deserve? Personally I challenge this goal and request that basic respect for diversity is offered on behalf of every immigrant group living in the United States of America.

This brings me to my point; do the people of Puerto Rico deserve justice because they acted in many wars as heroes, and they are US citizens, or is it because they are people, period. Is the search for a heroe one to justify respect of the US or one to respect ourselves as the sons and daughters of injustice?

Who are the morons of our education? Are we the result of a half a millennial years worth of destroyed self steem or a diminished entity resulted of an agenda that pursued our becoming less than what we really have been? Is the ideal goal for an Latin American immigrant to become a US citizen or is it to have our countries dignified with respect and honor.

Latin history for morons should be meant to open the minds of the diaspora to search within our selves and explore the wealth we possess. We need to expose our youth to the power of our predecessors, expunge our memories of the poison that has been incepted in our veins leading to the hate of our selves and liberate our minds of the thought that the white man and it’s identity contains the map that will lead to our freedom. Only then will we find our real potential to be our own heroes.

Bling Bling

Y me da con pensarlos inservibles y a la vez inhertes, como cuicas danzantes improbables e inservibles. Tambien yo, tambien yo me veo entre los personajes sin sentidos de esta historia, entre cabezas huecas sin memoria.. a veces yo soy la peor de las mensas, la que sabiendolo todo de todas maneras cae redondita en la histeria y el sin final ni decenlace, yo la que se dehace como fina tiza que se desborona y de la que no queda ni rastro en la zona. A veces siento que no nos queda de otra, sino bailar y bailar y bailar y colapsar de un infalto de hastio, donde hieren penetrantes los cantazos del vacio, ahi donde ya no eres una pieza si no una alfombra para que pasen los mountruos de tu conciencia. De vez en cuando me da por ponerles atributos altivos, los pienso Dioses capaces, divinos, luego recuerdo que son solo masa de corrientes shock hecha carne, meros implantes con defectos, utileria pesada en empaque liviano, uso leve del atributo cerebral-ordnario. Aparento ser alguna cosa brillante a la distancia, tratar de pretender con elocuencia y elegancia un atardecer que importe, el implorar tras la desgracia, el imponerme altivo de un falso acontecer cotidiano que de prisa avanza.

se~nores, hay cada dia.

Hay dias que una no es uno, una es otro con cosa abajo- ahi mismo entre las piernas, dias que uno es cosa sin enredos ni sentimientos, hay dias que una es fruta tontamente inmadura, dias enlos que uno es viento voraz, voragine-elocuente, hay dias que una es siervo de ella mientras ella le sirve a Otra, hay dias.



Hay dias y hay dias, como los que vivo ahora y en pasado, dias que uno es pesado y olvidado, hay dias que soy diva, estrellita liviana de otredad macharrana, hay dias que soy carne, cuerpo esbelto mente amplia, gozadera toda. Hay dias les cuento donde solo soy narrtiva que hierve en caldero manso de los Dioses, hay dias, les reitero- que hay dias donde no tengo vida si no es convidada mientras que hay otros donde soy yo la que les atrapa, hay cada dia, se~nores, hay cada dia.