The United States is one of the most diverse countries in the world. If you walk into a random stranger on the street, they’re likely to have religious, political, and social beliefs that are different from yours. It’s the norm here in America, but there are many places in which perspectives get pretty homogeneous.  But even with the diversity in perspectives that we encounter on a daily basis, most of us learned about similar topics as school age children.  We grow up and develop differing opinions and values, but we all know what photosynthesis is.  We know that the Niña, Pinta and Santa Maria aren’t the names of two hurricanes and Santa’s mistress.  We recite our alphabets with similar rhythm and intonation.

Elemeno P

Which makes sense, I suppose.  Employing similar curriculums in primary schools across the nation is a good way to establish what “common knowledge” is.  It’s also a good way to ensure that we can all name the same Black people by the time we graduate.  All because teachers remember to mention Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass (Black History Month starting 5) once every year until you finish high school.  By the time people become adults and Black History Month keeps coming around, the attention garnered by the starting five dwindles.  Everyone becomes convinced that there are only a few notable Black people in all of history and they were all born after 1800.  Somehow, the textbooks fail to mention Black people at every opportunity.  Africans were the earliest scientists, mathematicians and astrologists, they were settling in the Americas as early as 3,000 B.C., and we can’t get no shine until we create the first American clock and 205 products made from peanuts?

"I had to flex on 'em"

We’ve been affecting history throughout the world since humanity existed.  From Balthazar (the Blackest of the 3 wise men), to Septimus Serverus (the Blackest Roman emperor), to the ancient Olmecs (The Blackest acient civilization in the Americas), our presence has been expansive and impactful without being toxic or parasitic. The notion that our notable contributions to society only exist during US slave trade and the Civil Rights Movement holds no merit. I feel like racism and oppression flourished in the United States partially because people were unaware of how excellent Black people really are. So in honor of Black Excellence Month, I will observe the accomplishments of some lesser-known Black figures who have affected our everyday lives with their inventions.  Since so many still seem to be unaware…

If you’ve never played video games online against strangers, let me advise you, the headset is not for the faint of heart.  Adolescents across the world will throw any expletive or slur at you to gain another frag.  When I hear 12 year old Billy from Wisconsin screaming the n-word at the top of his lungs, I wonder if he’s aware that his punk ass wouldn’t be able to talk all that smack if it weren’t for this Black nerd.

Before becoming a developer for the Atari 2600, Jerry Lawson created the Fairchild Channel F.  The FCF was the first gaming console released to the public that allowed people to play multiple video games on a single console. Before, you had to buy consoles that came with one game installed.  This dude invented console gaming, the ability to buy and play multiple games on a single device.  Show some respect to the genius.

When I watch Fox News by mistake, or turn to the wrong station while driving through the bible belt, I sometimes hear some racist shit.  When I hear pundits equate “welfare reciepient” to “Black person”, I wonder if they’re aware that they wouldn’t even be able to share that ignorance with world if…

this Black guy hadn't invented the electret microphone.

That’s right, Dr. James E. West invented the first microphone that didn’t require an external power source.  It’s what makes talking on a cell phone possible, it’s what makes talk shows possible. His patent is used in 90% of the microphones made today. Dr. West patented his design in 1962, three years before the Voting Rights Act.
Recognize the excellence every time you see a mic.

We’ve talked about a lot of racist occurrences in and around elevators here on 40AC.  The most common being the one that involves white women acting like they’re in the trailer for Devil every time a Black guy steps through the doors.   While she’s worrying about her safety, I wonder if she’s aware that she’d definitely be in danger if it weren’t for…

this unapologetic Black guy

Alexander Miles of Duluth, Minnesota patented the electric elevator in 1887 and rocked some mean facial hair. He didn’t invent the elevator, but he made it what it is today.  Before Alexander flexed his excellence, elevators required a door to manually closed on each floor every time the car went to a different level.  When the elevator was on the first floor, there was just doorway leading into a pitfall on the 20th floor.  When people forgot to lock the door, mad people fell to their deaths. Miles invented the elevator that keeps people from dying like Acme cartoons.  Think about that next time you want to clench your purse.

Black history is everywhere. It’s in the carbon filament in your light bulb, it’s in your air conditioning, it’s in the White House. We’ve made contributions to civilization since the beginning of time, and we continue to do so in numerous realms. Let’s do our best to remember the excellence at all times, no matter what month it is.

Black Excellence, we been doin’ this.

O.K.Kai

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In the upcoming NFL draft, Andrew Luck is being hyped as the sure-fire first overall pick. He’s one of those guys pegged to one day be a Hall of Famer before he even takes a snap. Some say he’s even better looking than Peyton. Coming in slightly behind him in QB rankings in the draft (and likely at Number 2 overall) is Robert Griffin III. He’s being bandied as a Vick 2.0 type. A Cam Newton relation with blazing speed and a monster arm. But he’s no Andrew Luck. Good….but not quite Luck. Who can blame anyone making those assessments? Andrew Luck has the prototypical “size” for a QB and played amazingly in college. He’s got the arm, the mechanics, the speed, the toughness, and the “intangibles.” But what the fuck is an intangible?

Exactly...

There’s got to be some element of character or maturity that Andrew Luck has that Robert Griffin lacks right? Well let’s see….one started college early in 2008, finished a degree in political science two years later with a 3.7, and is going to finish his Master’s Degree before the draft. The other will be an engineer by the time the draft starts. The first is RGIII, the second is Andrew Luck. Can you judge who has the better “intangibles” from that alone? Both are undisputed team leaders and Griffin has proven to be the more charismatic one in public.  Both study film endlessly. Luck had a 71.3% completion percentage. Griffin had a 72.4% rate. Luck broke the all-time Pac-10 QB efficiency rate with a 162.8 QB rating. Griffin shattered the standing all-time NCAA QB rating with a 189.5 rating (he was later beaten out by Russell Wilson’s phenomenal performance in the same year). Luck led Stanford (which was a preseason title contender) to a #7 ranking and a Fiesta Bowl victory. Griffin led a pretty shitty Baylor squad with an imaginary defense to a #12 ranking and one of the few bowl wins in school history. Who had “better” intangibles? Why is Luck the once in a generation great while RGIII is just the “next” Vick or the “next” Cam?

Gotta be those ugly ass braid things

One word: it’s Whiteness. It’s the reason why Tim Tebow is in the league starting as a “winner” and Vince Young (clearly a better passer, as much of a “winner”) is probably gonna be a backup from here on out. It’s the reason why shitty white QBs get to stay around so long (Sanchez I’m looking at you) and struggling Black QBs get changed to “athletes” or WRs so quickly. It’s just easier for scouts and GMs to believe a guy is a good player if he fits a certain mold. If he doesn’t listen to hip-hop, won’t be a hip-hop reference, won’t dougie on the sidelines after a play, won’t thank his mama’nem after winning, and won’t be seen near a strip club or a Popeyes. It’s just harder to market Black guys as the faces of teams.

Granted, this guy made it more difficult

Even though I’ve considered this the “Age of the Black Quarterback,” aside from two teams (the Panthers and the Bucs), the teams that have Black QBs have always been “Black QB” teams. Teams that for some reason or the other have always played Black QBs. The traditional Black QB teams are Philly, Minnesota, and Oakland. Pretty much every Black QB you can name has gone through one or more of those teams. Outside of the teams mentioned so far, the only success I remember of a Black QB was in Atlanta…..which is the blackest market in the league. So while it seems Black QBs are gaining ground, now and in the past it’s always been with a small concentration of teams outside of the general powerhouses and largest markets, all of which tend to field Black QBs already. And I put it down to “intangibles,” whatever they are.

No way a Black guy is gonna start as a quarterback in Indy or New England or NY or wherever. And Black QBs will always have shorter leashes. Thus when a guy like Daunte Culpepper has perhaps the greatest season of all time for a QB (2004), and screws his knee up, he gets a lot less help and leeway than a struggling Tom Brady after the same injury. It’s the same reason Peyton is the number 1 free agent after going through FOUR neck surgeries late in his career and not even being sure he can play, and Warren Moon had to retire after being forced to be BRAD JOHNSON’s backup after a serious collarbone injury. And it’s the same reason why Andrew Luck will be drafted over RGIII, despite the latter being as well-documented a passer and a better athlete. Sure, he has size, but the two best passers in the league last year, Aaron Rodgers (same height and weight) and Drew Brees (smaller) were around RGIII’s profile. Hell,  Luck may very well be the better player, but I just don’t see right now how he’s such a clear cut number 1 over RGIII. It doesn’t make sense. And the only thing that consistently stands out is “intangibles.”

Whiteness.

Today’s #BlackExcellenceMonth post will be a special one. Since I know  everyone is all worked up over Valentine’s Day (Michelle O hasn’t yet responded to my request for her to be my Valentine that I put in in ’09 but it’s just a matter of time), I wanted to give you guys something special. One of my favorite love stories in Black History, and simultaneously a story of fighting racism and finding Black Excellence.

You guys have probably all seen Red Tails. And you know what I think about it. One of the main reasons I didn’t like it was because the real life stories around it were so rich and so deserving of a GOOD vessel to tell them. This is one of them. You probably didn’t know that the film was built on a fairly flexible interpretation of events and people. The characters by and large are fictional, and pastiches of major characters in the long history of Tuskegee Airmen. However, the character played by Bubbles from the Wire was actually based on an adviser of the film, a man whose awesomeness far outstripped that of Bubbles.

To be fair....Ne-Yo's acting made him look like Denzel Washington

The real-life man goes by the name of Herbert Carter. And his story by itself is pretty cool. Carter was one of the original Tuskegee Airmen, and had one of the most distinguished careers among them, earning the rare distinction of being both a fighter pilot and the squadron maintenance chief. He flew in 77 combat missions, and is still an ambassador for the Airmen at age 94.

But this isn’t just about Herbert Carter. It’s about his love story with a woman; a woman who never flew a mission but one who he considers a better pilot and a Tuskegee Airman.

Herbert Carter met Mildred Hemmons in 1939 in Tuskegee when he was in the then-Tuskegee Boarding school and she was in college. He didn’t approach her although they had awkward run-ins from time to time because he felt like he was beneath her station. He was a son of poor Mississippi parents who had never been outside Mississippi until he went to Tuskegee. She was the result of a union between a white man and a Black woman, both of considerable influence, who entered college at the age of 15. They didn’t seem to even be in the same world as each other. However, everything changed when Herbert, ironically in a move to dodge the draft for WWII, joined the Civilian Pilot Training Program at Tuskegee, which was a predecessor organization for the Tuskegee Airmen. In the CPTP he found out that Mildred was also learning how to fly. They began dating seriously. She trained under legendary CPTP instructor “Chief” Anderson, who later would fly Eleanor Roosevelt on the trip that gave the CPTP a massive boost and kick-started the formation of the Tuskegee Airmen.

Mildred Hemmons pictured alongside Eleanor Roosevelt

Mildred Hemmons became the first Black woman in Alabama to earn her pilot’s license in 1941. When the 99th Pursuit Squadron, what we now know as the founding Tuskegee Airmen unit, was established in Tuskegee in March of 1941 and Herbert Carter was recruited into it, Mildred Hemmons was the very first civilian hired to work in the project…as a tree bulldozer. She was known as a tomboy around the facilities, and she gained her nickname of “Mike” because she wore the same exact aviator gear as the male pilots. Instead of going out on dates, Herbert and Mildred would meet in the air on weekends, him flying his fighter plane and her flying a much slower Piper J-3 Cub plane. Their way of talking, of flirting, were little aerial maneuvers and blown kisses between cockpits. Herbert acknowledged that while he had the better plane, Mildred was always the better natural pilot.

Before the Airmen shipped out to their overseas assignment in 1943, Mildred applied to be a member of the all-women military support group the Women Airforce Service Pilots (the WASPs) but was denied in a swift rejection letter explicitly because of her race. It still strikes me as crazy how so many people were denied the opportunity to VOLUNTEER to sacrifice for this country. The incident brought them closer together, and by the end of 1942, Herbert Carter used all the $175 he had saved up to buy her engagement and wedding  rings and the two were married before he left for war. He painted “Mike” on the nose of his plane.

He came back from war and they started a family, with Herbert becoming the Dean of Admissions at Tuskegee and the two having three children. Racism stopped Mildred from flying in the military, but never from flying (which she did until she was 64) and never from mentoring young female pilots. Decades after their flights together, the two became involved in the Red Tails project (which you may know stretched for about two decades). They both became advisers to the project, and in February of last year, about 70 years after she was rejected initially, she received a letter declaring her a WASP and one of ”The First Women in History to Fly America.”

Mildred Carter was ecstatic about going to see Red Tails when it premiered early this year, especially after waiting so long for it to be released. However, in a tragic twist of fate, she passed away in October last year, just a few months before Red Tails premiered. She was 90, and she made her husband promise that he would see the film and live to be 100. He saw the film and continues to endeavor toward his promise of living to be 100. Just six years left.

And he continues to say how the best moments of his life were serving as Mike’s wingman.

Black Excellence indeed

And that’s the story for today. Happy Black Excellence Month. Enjoy your history. There are stories everywhere like this one, but untold. Find them. And Happy Valentine’s Day. Those of you with S/O’s enjoy flying high.

Namaste.

One of the aforementioned Athletes swaggin on TV and such.

Here he is again, in the role that made his career: Simon Phoenix in "Demolition Man"

My last post was about one of those men. Perry Wallace, who in the 60s integrated the SEC. Today’s post is about a man who you all know: Jesse Owens. Particularly, this post concerns his performance in the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin.

Let’s begin with some historical background to set the mood. Berlin. 1930s. Not the friendliest of places for the non-Aryan lot. The voting for the 1936 Summer games happened in 1931 actually before the rise of Hitler and his Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei or Nazi as it is known today. So the IOC voted and Berlin got the games. Other prominent cities who bid for the Games didn’t get a single vote. Historians have found this quite curious. Either way, Berlin would be the stage.

Adolf Hitler wanted these Olympics to highlight the superiority of his “Aryan” people and German excellence. Streets were cleaned, and some of the restrictive measures that were already being put on Jews by 1932 were largely hidden from the outside world. Hitler wanted to win. But apparently not more than he hated Jews. Many Jews and Gypsies were banned from the games, even Jewish four-time world-record holder and ten-time German National Champion Lilli Henoch. You really gotta hate someone to have your best athlete banned from competing.

This hatred wasn’t only limited to Jews and Gypsies. The Nazi propaganda depicted ethnic Africans as inferior both intellectually and physically. Enter, Jesse Owens.

This man beasted during these Olympic games. He won the Gold Medal in the 100m, 200m, long jump, and 4x100m relay. This feat would not be accomplished again until Carl Lewis would Gold-medal in the same four events in 1984. At the beginning of the Games, Hitler only shook hands with German victors. The Olympic Committee insisted he congratulate all winners or none at all and thus the Führer stopped shaking hands with anyone. After hearing that Hitler refused to acknowledge his victories and shake his hand, Jesse stated:

“Hitler had a certain time to come to the stadium and a certain time to leave.” “It happened he had to leave before the victory ceremony after the 100 meters. But before he left I was on my way to a broadcast and passed near his box. He waved at me and I waved back. I think it was ‘bad taste’ to criticize the man of the hour in another country.”

My mans Jesse got the proverbial “head nod” and not the formal “dap.” But even then, he was focused on his sport and not sending a political message. He thought it might be “bad taste” to criticize this white-supremacist, evil, motherfucker. I mean, that’s a certain amount of civility we just don’t see anymore. Hitler’s words about those of African descent, spoken in private to Albert Speer, his later armaments minister, show this respect was not reciprocated:

“Each of the German victories, and there were a surprising number of these, made him happy, but he was highly annoyed by the series of triumphs by the marvelous colored American runner, Jesse Owens. People whose antecedents came from the jungle were primitive, Hitler said with a shrug; their physiques were stronger than those of civilized whites and hence should be excluded from future games.”

Let me know if you’re like me and are now thinking this is logically inconsistent. Hitler built his whole evil empire on the notion of Aryans being superior, then one Black man swaggs on his entire conception of things, and then ol’ Adolf admits that Blacks’ physiques are stronger and that because of this, Blacks should not be allowed to compete against Whites. Oh.

The most interesting thing in this is how Jesse felt about the thing. You’ve already read about his civility toward Hitler. The real story is about what happened when he returned victorious to America. In Berlin, he was allowed to share a hotel with all of the other athletes, but back in the U.S. it was a different story. After the ticker-tape parade on Fifth Avenue in New York, Owens had to ride the freight elevator in the Waldorf-Astoria hotel to get to the reception honoring him. Add to this the fact that Hitler sent Owens an inscribed photograph of himself. Our own American President at the time, FDR, aint show Jesse no love. In Jesse’s words:

“Hitler didn’t snub me – it was FDR who snubbed me. The president didn’t even send me a telegram.”

"I can't even get a text message, bruh? Cold World."

That’s right. Franklin Delano Roosevelt didn’t even acknowledge Owens’s victories. No telegram. Jesse was never invited to the White House. Truman, the next President, also showed Jesse no love.

"Fuck these Niggas."

"Ditto"

Jesse finally got some recognition from a President . . . more than 20 years later, from President Eisenhower.

What have we learned from this little narrative? Let’s recap.

1. Jesse Owens, despite poor treatment, felt bad disrespecting Adolf Hitler.

2. Hitler felt Jesse and his kind were inferior, but acknowledged that Blacks are better physically, and makes nice by sending Jesse an inscribed photo.

3. TWO American Presidents showed less manners than the downtrodden Black Athlete facing racism at every turn and the guy who KILLED millions of Jews, homosexuals, Gypsies, and mentally challenged individuals in his bout for World Conquest.

There wasn’t always a time when Black Excellence was respected, revered, and acknowledged. Remember this.

Continue to Question the World Around You.

In celebration of Black Excellence Month, some of my crew and I went on a snowboarding trip to the location of a U.S. Civil War Union victory.  Of course it wasn’t advertised as such, the pamphlet just said The Smokey Mountains.   I was extremely excited to shred some fresh powder with my people, destroying stereotypes as our black asses plunged through the white snow.  ”Niggas is snow, you already know”, was our slogan for the trip.  We were hype.

Black people generally love to gain access to otherwise infeasible activities.  My theory is that it all started with the restrictions placed on our people thousands of years ago, when the first white person in history took a brotha’s gold and enslaved his whole family.    From that moment, Black people were determined to not only repossess their rights and riches, but to also swag out anything that white people claimed to be their own.  Recent Black history is largely composed of events that deal with overcoming oppression and threats to livelihood. As we continue to inch toward social equality, our desire and ability to take over so-called “white” activities increases.  They said we weren’t allowed to read, vote, go to school, own property, fight wars, play basketball, spit game to other races, or go into politics.  Then, when all of that stuff became legal, stereotypes and misconceptions tried to dictate what we could and could not do.

“A Black billionaire?  Yeah right”

"Want a Camry?"

“We’ll never have a Black president”

"Middle name's Hussein by the way"

 ”Black people don’t play tennis”

"Twinzies!"

“Black people don’t wear Polo”

"This is a plantation"

 ”Niggas don’t be in Paris”

"I'm shocked too..."

So we were determined to go hammer on the slopes, just for duality’s sake. Gatilinburg, Tennessee was as homogenous as we had expected when we arrived. It looked like a fun, cold and amusing Iowa campaign stop.  We were bumping Rick Ross’ Rich Forever mixtape in the car as White America stared with intrigue and repressed fear.

Things got off to a pretty rocky start on the slopes at first.  We took snowboarding lessons from a guy named Kyle, and we spent an hour busting our asses over and over again.  But then we started getting the hang of it and 10 minutes later my homegirls were already at the top of the mountain ready to go.  The rest of the crew followed suit and from then on out we were unstoppable. We were on the rookie mountain, but we were still doing better than most of the folks around us. They took the same class that we did, but we were flexing on them, melanin and all.

When we got back the cabin, shots were in order. We had a blast on the slopes and it was time to party. With N*ggas In Paris playing at full blast, we lifted our glasses and started chanting

“Niggas in snow, you already know!”

We took the shots and repeated the chant until it became the chorus to an all-out freestyle session. We continued to rage as my homey and I started looking around for more plastic cups.  Then, out of nowhere, someone exclaimed,

“Um… why do those plates say K.K.K ?!”

Yup

The music literally stopped. We looked at each other to assure ourselves that this wasn’t some drunken hallucination.  But sure enough, there were K.K.K. plates posted on the wall, and we hadn’t noticed them for almost 2 days.

What were we to do? Perhaps the plates were on display to represent some names of family members.  You know, like Kevin, Kathy and Kyle, maybe. Or maybe it was a sly little shout out to a domestic terrorist organization.

The fact of the matter is that everywhere you go, there’s going to be some racist shit around.  Remember that fact about spiders they taught in elementary school (or Magic School Bus)? You’re never more than three feet away from a spider? Racist shit be like spiders.  Somebody’s always saying something offensive or reading a racist joke text or calling us niggers while sitting in a car with the windows rolled up.  Haters gonna hate.  Racists want you to go down to their level and act with pure stupidity and anger.  Essentially, they want you to have a nigga moment. Ironic as that may be, most of us are better than that.

I called the front desk and asked them who was in charge of decorating the cabins.  The receptionist told me that people registered their personal property under the lodging company for the public to book.  This meant that our racist enemy was basically invisible.  Just like most racist phenomena in the “post racial” society, this situation was one of malicious subtly.  So I walked up to the plates, looked at the crew, and took the middle plate.  ”K and K” means nothing to me and good times for my people means everything.  We turned the music back on and continued to go in.

Racists are always going to try to bring us down, but you’d be surprised at the little steps you can take to make their influence weaker.  We strive for excellence because we come from excellence, and no domestic terrorist group has a say in the matter. So we’ll just keep living, partying and achieving greatness in the face of bigotry and any acronymous vehicle of oppression.

The rest of Gatlinburg was pretty much like this video

Meet a Black Guy

O.K.Kai

If the name isn’t ringing immediate bells in your mind, fear not. I didn’t know at first either. Mr. Wallace is the Black guy on the right, playfully tousling his teammates hair. He played Division I Basket ball for Vanderbilt. And beginning with the 1967 season, he was the FIRST black athlete in any sport in the SEC. Yes, that SEC. The Southeastern Conference of the NCAA. The very same one that is today a powerhouse in football and many other sports largely due to the contributions of Black players. I mean, think about it: when was the last time you saw an SEC game and didn’t see Black folk dunking or running for 50+ yards per carry? Well, it all started with this man here. This video, and Henry Louis Gates can explain it better than I can.

As you saw, Mr. Wallace played for Vanderbilt, and all the spectators wanted to do was hurl racial epithets at him. Hell, even his teammates acted as if nothing was happening when Wallace returned to the locker room. The very idea of a Black man on the court was repugnant to those in the Deep South. Imagine people having that attitude today. This wasn’t that  long ago. If you saw the Fab Five 40 for 40 ESPN documentary, you know that even into the 90s, the idea of star, Black athletes still did not sit well with White folk. Beyond his athetic prowess, what makes Wallace even greater in my eyes are his other accomplishments:

Going to Columbia Law School and becoming a law professor.

That’s how Professor Wallace first came to my attention. He was my professor for Business Associations just last semester. With an imposing presence and a resounding voice, he commanded attention. Despite what may have been intimidating to some, Professor Wallace is kind-hearted to those of all races. His anecdotes in class drawing from his long history in the Department of Justice and practice delighted my [Black] friends and me. He’ll tell you about handling major cases as soon as he’ll tell you about meeting Muhammad Ali. There’s an event happening at my law school tonight that is entitled “A New Frontier of Civil Rights.” Mr. Wallace is speaking first. He is a direct bridge between the time when you knew who the racists were because they were threatening you with lynching, firebombings, and hosings, and racism as it is manifested in today’s society: systemically in the Justice system as well as other facets of American life. Do some searching and find out more about this Great Man.

He didn't teach BA in these shorts, thank Black Jesus.

Continue to Question the World Around You.

Since today is Hump Day and in light of the recent news of the sad passing of Don Cornelius (now officially ruled a suicide), I wanted to do something  a little different for today’s #BlackExcellenceMonth post. I had another 1000 word post in the works but I figured today I’d just give you some of my favorite Soul Train videos and let you guys enjoy. Soul Train was one of the most important shows on TV, and pretty much all of the “grown folks music” you listen to was played on that stage. You want Black Excellence? Think about Marvin Gaye serenading the crowd in a plaid bellbottom suit or MJ first doing the robot. So just watch and enjoy some today.

In memoriam Don C. Your glorious afro shall be remembered.

Really…..you have to be having a good day after watching that last one.

I didn’t want to editorialize, but we really need some better awareness for mental illness in our community folks. Suicide rates in black men are skyrocketing, and as long as we continue to treat suicide as a “white” thing and continue to dismiss mental health (as we often dismiss other facets of our health), things will only get worse. Pretty sure these words won’t lead to any actionable items, but if you have any organizations dedicated to the cause, you have a friend in 40 Acres. Enjoy the videos!

Be excellent.

In today’s #BlackExcellenceMonth post, I bring something both old and new that’s pretty exciting to me. Letters from a former slave, Jourdon Anderson, to his master have been circulating around the internets for a few days and they struck me as pretty amazing. If you haven’t seen it, I hate taking up so much text space, but here it is:

Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865.

To my old Master, Colonel P. H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee.

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the[266] folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams’s Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq.,[267] Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.

Look at that. That’s from 1865. To me it’s amazing, and it’s pretty fortunate that the letter resurfaced right at the beginning of the BEST BLACK HISTORY MONTH EVER. Just read it. First of all….this was a Black man who mastered passive-aggressive trolling almost 150 years ago. He’s like this blog’s direct predecessor. The sarcasm here is so amazing. And this guy is so freaking BALLSY. He asked for $11k in back pay….which in today’s dollars is about $250,000. This dude asked for a QUARTER MILLION dollars from his old master a few months before slavery was even made illegal throughout the states. It’s crazy…you can almost see the sneer on Jourdon’s face as he dictated this to whomever was literate enough to write it. It made my day. He was like…the first Black comedian.

Jourdon Anderson?

This significance and context of this letter really had me floored. But of course, there were those who doubted its authenticity. It seemed too perfectly timed, and too well-done to be authentic. But then I did some digging, and found out where some others had done some digging, and found out that it seems to be pretty legit. At least Jourdon Anderson was a real person, and the master he wrote to was real. I found that the letter was a part of a collection done by abolitionist Lydia Maria Child called “The Freedmen’s Book.” It was published in 1865 and entered into the public domain when it became part of the Library of Congress. Actually the full text can be found here. I even got it in Kindle form! This collection has some real gems, and really gives a sense of what the world looked like to all sides; slaves, abolitionists, racists, etc. and keeps us from always having to rely on conjecture in wondering what the world looked like. There are great stories about folks like Benjamin Banneker and some lesser-known folks like our hero Jourdon Anderson. Did you know that Banneker produced the first American almanac? One that Thomas Jefferson based his more famous series of almanacs on? This thing has some amazing poems and is a treasure trove unexplored, for the most part.

I found the story of a brilliant slave named George Horton to be pretty amazing. This was a man who lived in my beloved Chapel Hill, one of the most liberal towns in the state, and home of the very liberal University of Chapel Hill, who was a slave denied his freedom and who died trying to make enough money from his poetry to set himself free. An excerpt from one of his poems:

“Say unto foul oppression, Cease!Ye tyrants, rage no more;

And let the joyful trump of peaceNow bid the vassal soar.

“O Liberty! thou golden prize,So often sought by blood,

We crave thy sacred sun to rise,The gift of Nature’s God.

“Bid Slavery hide her haggard face,And barbarism fly;

I scorn to see the sad disgrace,In which enslaved I lie.

“Dear Liberty! upon thy breastI languish to respire;

And, like the swan unto her nest,I’d to thy smiles retire.”

Creation fires my tongue!Nature, thy anthems raise,

And spread the universal songOf thy Creator’s praise.

When each revolving wheelAssumed its sphere sublime,

Submissive Earth then heard the peal,And struck the march of time.

The march in heaven begun,And splendor filled the skies,

When Wisdom bade the morning sunWith joy from chaos rise.

The angels heard the tuneThroughout creation ring;

They seized their golden harps as soon,And touched on every string.

When time and space were young,And music rolled along,

The morning stars together sung,And heaven was drowned in song.

I’ve been meaning to put this out for a couple of days now, but with the site redesign and all the changes I just totally forgot about it. Well here it is…

I saw Red Tails last week. I wanted to love it. I really did. I wanted to like it as much as other war epics like “Saving Private Ryan” or recent quasi-historical films like “Inglourious Basterds” but, perhaps predictably, it was more akin to Miracle at St Anna than Letters from Iwo Jima. I left the theater full of pride and happiness about my people and the events portrayed in the film, but it took me a while to extricate my thoughts about the subject matter from the actually content and quality of the film. I think that’s a problem that mirrors the problem besetting our perception of “Black” cinemas as a whole.

"A positive black male image? Daddy's Little Girls should have gotten an Oscar!"

I’ll start with the good things. First of all, like I said, the movie did spread knowledge about a very important piece of this country’s history. In some way, it was really good that this story was told to a wide audience, even if it was through a very flawed vessel. Also, the special effects were stunning, as you would expect from a Lucasfilm. Those were some of the best dogfights and aerial fight scenes I’ve ever seen. Honestly I might have enjoyed it more if the whole thing was just dogfights with no stories or dialogue. There were some pretty good acting jobs, and as much as I HATE Terrence Howard, I think his acting was alright (although his character seems to be eternally stuck in the “motivational speech/witty quip” cliches). The guy from Great Debators was great, and as much as I hated Lightning’s character, the acting was good and the two’s friendship had some damn good chemistry.

****SPOILERS AHEAD. IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE FILM (ALTHOUGH IT’S UTTERLY PREDICTABLE) AND DON’T WANT ME TO RUIN IT STOP READING****

I also really liked the scene where Great Debators dude royally screwed up trying to help dude land. I didn’t quite get it because it was written horribly, but I actually felt something. And all in all, the movie was pleasant. There was a sense of goodness that really pervades all Lucas produced films. Heroism and all that.

And heroic teeth-gritting

and NOW FOR THE BAD THINGS

For one, the writing was absolutely shit-tastic. Everything. The dialogue, the exposition, the scene setups, the settings, EVERYTHING. From a director who wrote episodes of The Wire and the writer of the Boondocks, along with some great actors from The Wire and other good movies, I expected much much more from the movie. Where do I even begin? This plot had more holes than Lightning’s dead body at the end. First of all, they could have done a much better job with showing how racial attitudes changed. It read like a 5th grader’s play on how racism was bad or whatever. (1) White people are racist (2) Black people defied expectations (3) White people stopped being racist. It was literally THAT easy in the movie. Are we too stupid to get the nuances of racism? Even though most of us have lived in a world where we can defy expectations everyday and STILL not win? Come on, Hemingway. In general, the whole movie kinda missed out on subtlety like that and went for the most corny, obvious angles on everything. Everything was spelled out like an elementary class. I really think it’s an indictment on what people think Black folks can understand and will accept.

Just the relationship between Lightning and the Italian girl alone could fill a blog post with questions. How did he find that white girl’s house from just a wave from afar? I suppose the Black man’s “white box radar” is STRONG. How did they get married and couldn’t even speak to each other? Where was her mom during the whole thing? Is there no racism in Italy? Man that was one of the worst relationships I’ve ever seen in a serious movie. Lightning’s general convenient invincibility bothered me too. He could shirk orders and destroy entire BATTLESHIPS with just two passes of his plane  and was generally unkillable, but of course died from much less challenging circumstances when the plot called for it. But come to think of it…we all knew Lightning was gonna be the one to die at like the very beginning of the movie. Also, how did he get jumped by a bar full of racists and not have so much as a papercut? How did he not get lynched? How did he not get court martialed? Everything about the very character of Lightning requires a monumental suspension of disbelief.

Deus Ex Machina bitches!!

And let’s not get started on the acting. I could write a lot about how meh I thought the Black actors were, but all of the white Actors were a  special kind of awful. The bomber crews were so terrible my theater started booing them. I’ve never heard anything like that before. How many “Look at those Red Tails! They SURE CAN FLY! We’ll be safe now!” exchanges is it reasonable to put up with? Man it felt like they were so busy finding the cast for the pilots that they just kinda…forgot to get white actors and picked them off a random soundstage. The acting was so shitty it just ended up being funny after a while.

And then there’s Ne-Yo. I have a special place of hatred in my heart for him. I don’t know what dirt he has on Hollywood directors, but the man seems hell bent on single-handedly destroying cinema one movie at a time. And he was really in top form as the lead coon/funny accent/tobacco chewing guy in Red Tails. It’s not so much that I think he can’t act, because it feels like he’s purposefully acting AWFULLY just to fuck movies up. And that’s how terrible he was. Every time I heard him speak I expected the Amos N’ Andy theme to play in the background. Man, it may have been the single worst film performance I’ve seen by someone with an actual IMDB profile. Jesus. I honestly think that if all of my other problems with the movie had been fixed, if Ne-Yo had still been in it, I would have hated it. I was openly rooting for his plane to burst into flame/be struck with a meteor/erased by the Hand of God every time they showed him. I think it was really unfair that I had to sit through that terrible dialog and plot and they couldn’t even bother to kill off this skid stain in the end.

In conclusion, fuck Ne-Yo

But really I thought the bad things about Red Tails outweighed the good things. Granted, a lot of Black folks have told me that I should support it regardless because of what it means to Black film or have called me names for not liking it. I’ve even had some suggest to me that I should support things like it even if they are bad to give “Black” film a chance. And I heartily disagree. I shouldn’t have to feel obligated to support “Black” things that suck just because I’m black. People are taking solidarity a bit too far. And if we really wanted to show the world that we were more than Tyler Perry, there was a GREAT Black film by the name of Pariah that played during the same time. It may not have gotten the push that Red Tails got from Lucas, but it was about 20 times as good. If we really had wanted to make a statement, we should have protested for theaters to open it up to a wider release. Because what we got was little more than Tyler Perry’s Madea in planes. It’s not a sin to expect more, and having high expectations of our own filmmakers is just accountability. Is having a thriving Black film industry full of SHIT actually better than a struggling striving for quality? I’d take the latter. This is #BlackExcellenceMonth….and quite simply, this film was not Excellence. It was mediocrity. We can do better, especially if people like Lucas are bankrolling.

This video pretty much sums it up:

Well…I leave you until that new Spike Lee movie comes out. Namaste.

I was talking to my mother on the phone yesterday.  She lives in New England and she was recalling all of the times that she’s had to shovel her way out of the house to get to work this year.  While I listened, I made sure not to gloat over the fact that it has been Spring time here in Atlanta since November.  My mom told me that she was essentially blown at the fact that the ground hog predicted 6 more weeks of Winter.  I told her that, at least, it was Black History Month.  To which she responded

“Black History Month? They’re still doing that ridiculousness?”

Mind you, my mom was on her cell phone in the middle of an organic grocery store full of white people.  I was like, “Mom! Why are you throwing shade at Black History Month?”.  Then she told me,

“They think that they can give me a month? A measly month!? Ha!  For all that they’ve done to us, Black History Month should be EVERY month.  They’re like, ‘Here, we’ll take your people, enslave them, rape them, steal their culture and oppress them, and you can have February”

Whole Foods just got real.  I understood where my mom was coming from.  I owe everything to her sacrifices and her ability to navigate the obstacles put in place by the majority. From living through the residual affects of European imperialism while growing up in West Africa, to coming to America and facing blatant racism and oppression from the majority at every turn.

She also had to deal with Coming to America

My mom has experienced racism in a multitude of ways.  Shit, she’s taken entire businesses to court because they slipped and did something racist to her or her children.  She don’t play.  To her, giving Black people the shortest and coldest month of the year is a slap in the face to her and her people’s struggles.  Honestly, from my mom’s perspective,  there aren’t enough months in the year to rectify the atrocities of racist white folk of the past and present.  I can rock with that, but I still like Black History Month.  It’s the only time that the homey George Wahington Carver gets the shine he deserves.

" Bout time! I've been going nuts over here waiting for some damn attention!"

But here at 40 Acres and a Cubicle, it’s Black Excellence Month, and excellence is always something to celebrate.  We’ve been through the MOSTEST as a people, if you want proof, just go to our homepage and click on some shit. A part of what makes us so excellent is the fact that we’re unstoppable.

First we were living high on the hog.  Africa was flexing on European countries with resources, life expectancy, land, education, and epic civilizations.  I’m talking about diamonds, gold, healthy soil, water, Maybachs and unlimited crab meats.

Then White folks got mad and started a rampage through every foreign land with active melanocytes and spices.  Entire civilizations of color were wiped off of the planet because of relentless and insatiable greed.  All the while, Black people were stigmatized as carnal savages unfit to be considered fully human.  But we didn’t fade away into the distant memories of some old anthropologist.  Instead, we grew stronger through time and began the process of restrengthening our people.  We began to eat away at the immoral fiber that held this country together and started a process of aggressive enlightenment.  The adverse impacts of European imperialism and racism was seemingly insurmountable, but then it got hit with The Emancipation Proclamation, The 13th, 14th & 15th  Amendments, The Civil Rights Act of 1964, The Voting Rights Act  and Obama.

If Jim Crow were a real dude, he would've had a conniption.

The moves that we’ve made in spite of all of the oppression and exploitation that we’ve suffered is wild.  Open up your anthropology, social studies or history textbooks and look up some civilizations.  How often do you see an enslaved minority remain a minority while moving up at such a rate? Rarely, if not never.

Black people are excellent because we, as a whole, are strong, perseverant and unyielding to the mission of bigotted haters.  My mom came to the United States and faced racism at school, work, the street, on the bus, on the tennis court, in court, at Whole Foods, the loan office, freakin everywhere.  She gave  a lot of time, energy and love into making me into the man I am today and she taught me how to maneuver through these labyrinths of bigotry.  I owe my mother everything, just like we owe everything to those who’ve paved the way for us to live as free people today.   Our history is part of why we’re excellent and our future is brighter than ever.  I’m celebrating it all. In fact, I’m going on a ski trip tomorrow to celebrate Black Excellence Month.  If anything racial goes down, you guys know I’ll let you know.  Oh yeah, the ski resort is built on the site of  a Union victory battle during the Civil War so, we flexin during BEM.

Who gon stop us huh?

O.K.Kai