Black Angry Women

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Black Integrated Thoughts and Memories

BlackParentSpeaks’ father was a wise Black man of great knowledge and patience. He modeled an ‘undying love for Black people’. Daddy loved my mother and he loved us children. Daddy was our protector in a racist ‘White’ America bent on killing off the ‘Black’ man, ‘Black’ woman, and ‘Black’ child.

My father’s nature fascinated me and often I, while a child, consciously and unconsciously imitated Daddy’s ways and style. My handwriting mirrored Daddy’s and my language and talk and thoughts largely developed by way of Daddy’s teachings.

While I was a child, I marveled at my father’s ability to speak and communicate in multiple languages and ways. I often watched and listened as my father acted as an interpreter in various situations involving non-English speaking folk.

Daddy handled most – if not all – of the Black, Spanish-speaking, Chinese, Russian, and Roma business in Portland, Oregon. And, on a regular basis, Daddy and I visited the home of a non-verbal ‘White’ couple and Daddy handled their business affairs by way of signing. Daddy likewise handled business for people without sight. I was forever and constantly learning while in the company of my father.

My father was not one to wear his credentials on his sleeve. Although Daddy had graduated Colorado College as the first ‘Black’ Phi Beta Kappa, Daddy seldom – if ever – wore his pin. Rather, Daddy’s pin was kept at home in a dresser drawer.

Daddy often explained that it was not important that other folk know that you know something; rather, it is important that you know that you know. Daddy also said other things that have remained a part of my persona throughout my life….

My father was a master electrician, plumber, and more. He liked working with tools and constructing devices. Daddy built a monstrosity of a printing press and we used the press to print business cards, invoicing materials, posters, etc. Daddy liked playing around with numbers and he geared me towards appreciating numbers as well.

Daddy was likely the fastest typist I have ever personally encountered. Initially learning to type by way of my father, I eventually found myself typing over 90 words a minute without errors. But, Daddy was quicker and just as accurate! I enjoyed challenging my father even though I always lost the challenge – smiles.

Because the ‘White’ elementary school in Portland, Oregon that I was forced to integrate did not provide me – a ‘Black’ student — with a language structure foundation, my father stepped in and guided me. Daddy showed me short-cuts in learning language and developing structure. As Daddy had taught me to do with math, Daddy showed me how to check my words, spelling, and sentences. Daddy explained punctuation, complete thoughts, and more. Daddy created challenging word games for his ‘kiddies’ and I enthusiastically played those games with delight.

Similar to my father, I read – and continue to read – quite a bit. Like my father, I also write quite a bit. Often, I write during the wee hours of the night and the early hours of the day. I lean towards conscious communication with our ancestors and spirits during such hours as well.

‘Purpose’ is often lacking in the lives of many. Folk with relatively considerable financial wealth have a tendency to horde, squander, demand, and seek more by way of greed. Solutions to societal ills elude them (or, quite frankly, do not interest them) because their hollow professions of concern lack substance, intent, and wisdom. What many fail to overstand is that today is short-lived and their money does NOT entitle them….

I am reminded of the day when I – BlackParentSpeaks — was so rudely approached by a man of considerable financial wealth and power. Although I was in ‘deep’ conversation with fellow Blacks at the time, the man chose to have several of his employees interrupt our gathering in order to ‘immediately’ speak to me. The man-of-financial-wealth was ‘White’; I am ‘Black’. Needless to say, I REFUSED the man-of-financial-wealth an audience.

The following day, BlackParentSpeaks was again approached by employees of the ‘White’ man-of-financial-wealth and I was offered upwards of a hundred thousand dollars, a car, and a house of my own if I were to accommodate the man’s wishes. Without the slightest hesitation, I refused. Later that day, the man-of-financial-wealth personally approached me. After telling him what he could do with his ‘offer’, I told him that if he ever wanted to reach out and truly ‘help’ in the fight for racial justice, he should again look me up. I have not been contacted by him since….

As I write these words, I smile. I smile knowing that I have maintained my ‘Black’ sense of integrity, involvement, and commitment. I have NOT sold out nor have I hocked my ‘Blackness’.

No, I do not own a home – no money to buy one. Yes, my 20-year-old car is sorely in need of repair and my bank account often hovers at a $10 balance. And, I sometimes make the rounds picking up empty soda water cans to redeem for deposit. Yet, I smile for I am convinced that I was ‘chosen’ (many are called, few are chosen) and I have been – and continue to be — blessed with a ‘purposeful’ life. Black Power!

‘Don’t forget our reparations’.

Feel free to share this BlackAngryWomen blog with others. http://BlackAngryWomen.com/

We are all works in progress.

Undying love for Black people!

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‘Black’ Militant & Revolutionary Marion Barry ‘Gives Up The Ghost’ in 2014

‘Black’ Militant & Revolutionary Marion Barry ‘Gives Up The Ghost’ in 2014

On 23 November 2014 ‘Black’ Brother Marion S. Barry ‘gave up the ghost’ in America’s Capital — Washington, DC. This BlackParentSpeaks ‘WORD’ is a brief look at — and about — Marion Barry the ‘Black’ man!

Marion and BlackParentSpeaks began our relationship as active ‘Black’ militants, revolutionaries, cohorts, intimate friends, confidants and more during the 1960’s Black ‘Movement’.

Marion Barry – what can I say?!

Marion was a worthy and memorable force to say the least. He was focused and relevant. Marion led by doing; he was an activist and Black people throughout DC – the nation’s Capital – loved him. Marion paid his dues and he was – like many of US – beyond deserving of respect, loyalty and more.

Marion spoke the language that we ‘over’stood. He was fearless in his beliefs and actions. Marion was consistent although sometimes unpredictable. He was serious about life. Marion was a true ‘player’ – a runner who also focused on US sisters.

Marion had an obvious penchant for Black women. We sometimes lamented that if ‘Whites’ were ever to ‘get at’ Marion, it would be through a sister because Marion was attractive to the sisters and often ‘tempted’…. But, Marion was Marion.

Marion was serious about who he was – ‘Dear God, please do not let me be misunderstood’….

Marion was ‘real’ and he ‘shared’ with me. When Marion drifted from who he was, it bothered him greatly. Perhaps the most notable occasion involved young Rufus ‘Catfish’ Mayfield. Marion and I ‘talked’ more than once after what happened. Marion felt ‘painful’ guilt; at times, I wonder if Marion ever truly made amends….

Marion and I and Rev. David Eaton and Stokely Carmichael and Lester McKinney and, and, and – the list goes on.

Marion and I – at times – communicated by way of a personal ‘code’. On at least one occasion, that led to a suspected bomb threat.

I am reminded of ‘Black’ actor Robert Hooks who happened into ‘Black’ Ed Murphy’s DC Club one day and soon ‘offered’ to pay for my drink. It was obvious that Brother Hooks was intending to ‘show-up’ Marion because Hooks ‘talked trash’ about Marion and the ladies…. Hooks ‘assumed’ I was Marion’s ‘date’. I ‘thanked’ Hooks for the offer but explained that Marion would pay for my drinks and anything else I ordered. Later that evening, Marion and ‘Murph’ and I shared hearty laughs….

Marion was a genuine brother who did not shy away from trouble. Marion Barry looked trouble in the eye and took action. I remember Marion showing up at my DC place-of-residence prepared to protect me from the violent advances of law enforcement. I, also, remember Marion ‘kicking in the door’ of the police paddy wagon and what ensued thereafter…. The ‘truths’ go on and on. I sometimes think about Marion and the ‘bug’ he sometimes drove. I think about Marion’s romantic and sensitive sides and more.

I recall a time when Marion and others got into an ‘alleged’ protracted gun fight in buildings along the streets of DC. Law enforcement had cordoned off the area of the ‘alleged’ shootings…. Upon learning of the situation, yours truly intervened to bring a ‘peaceful’ end to the stalemate with no resulting charges.

Marion could be relentless and persistent – a man who did not give up or give in. The DC bus ‘MAN’cott was Marion’s ‘baby’. Home Rule was Marion’s ‘baby’.

During one of the DC Black United Front (BUF) meetings, I refused to give in to the wishes of BUF Board member Marion Barry. Marion felt he could persuade me otherwise. Marion stated that he and company would come to my DC home with force. I responded that if Marion and company did show up at my place, I would ‘blow’ him away first…. Following that exchange, Marion and I BOTH burst out in laughter.

‘Black’ Marion S. Barry was a man worthy of respect and loyalty. He was true and he was human. Marion shared love, pain, and hurt as he gave to the struggle in spite of…. Marion opened doors and provided employment to DC’s ‘Black’ youth and others. He paid his dues and more.

BlackParentSpeaks remembers ‘Black’ Marion S. Barry as a man of substance and love.

‘Don’t forget our reparations’.

Feel free to share this BlackAngryWomen blog with others. We are all works in progress. Do YOU know what time it is? http://BlackAngryWomen.com/

Undying love for Black people!

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Police Body Cameras ‘Trick Bag’…. ‘Black’ Michael Brown, Eric Garner and Others

BlackParentSpeaks is compelled to speak AGAINST the case of requiring local police officers to wear body cameras while on duty. Perhaps something in this BlackAngryWomen post will touch the raw nerve of each reader.

BlackParentSpeaks values both privacy and the ‘right not to incriminate self’ laws. Violations of ‘privacy’ abound and the ‘privacy of our homes’ is a precious remaining ‘right’ — at least in theory.

Requiring local police officers to wear body cameras while on duty is a misnomer at best and a violation of ‘right to privacy’ practices and theories.

Body cameras will not stop our police officers who are bent towards wrongful practices involving ‘general’ abuses or racist abuses of power. If we truly believe that body cameras are a solution, we are wrong.

Police wearing of body cameras while on duty makes us all subject to invasion of our ‘rights to privacy’. Footage and ‘supposed unaltered fluid footage’ will be available and in the public domain. Likewise, such footage will be kept for years lest the camera footage no longer be ‘considered and deemed’ relevant.

First, the efficacy of cataloging and storing continuous footage and ‘alleged’ footage from local police body cameras is both costly and ridiculous. Safeguarding such footage is another questionable task. Where will such be stored and who will be in charge of maintaining the integrity and security of such? Who will handle the cataloging of this massive endeavor?

Already, ‘hacking’ and viruses present a major problem for all – including the Pentagon and other government agencies. Leaks abound. We are inundated regularly with breaches to security. What makes any of us believe that body camera footage and ‘supposed’ UNtampered footage will be kept and maintained with ‘greater’ security?

When thinking about police body camera footage, at a minimum, we must think about the movie making industry. Daily, we watch our TVs and many of us view movies. Camera footage is altered, transposed, manipulated, deleted, and otherwise pieced together to present a fluid story for viewers to ‘feel’ and believe. We are able to change ‘original’ footage on our computers at home and at work. ‘Is it real or is it Xerox?’ Who will have the legal authority to certify whether police body camera footage is UNchanged or CHANGED and what about ensuing disagreements? Who decides and determines ‘integrity’?

Will the footage filmed by body cameras flow constantly into a central computer system located away from the police officer who is wearing the body camera? Or, will each body camera contain its separate film footage for later download into a central computer located in individual precinct locations or…?

What happens when and if an officer’s body camera becomes nonfunctional or has blips?

What will be the dollar value of a police body camera on the public and non-public market? Will a police officer’s safety be jeopardized as a result of his body camera? How many body cameras will be ‘lifted’ and/or ‘liberated’ and/or confiscated and/or simply ‘lost’?

What will happen if a police officer fails by accident or on purpose to ‘continually and consistently’ wear his or her body camera? Will there be ‘real and effective’ consequences? Will local police officers be subject to dismissal as a result? Will body cameras operate while police officers are using the bathrooms? Afterall, incidents can happen in bathrooms and all spaces. If there are exceptions, what will be considered an exception?

Will body camera footage be reviewed randomly or continually and constantly by an oversight group or body? Or, will the review of the footage be solely ‘triggered’ by officially-filed complaints? And, who is – in fact – allowed to file complaints against local police officers? Can a person who is UNinvolved in a police situation file a citizen complaint? Can anonymous individuals and entities file complaints that ‘trigger’ the review of police body camera footage? Will the media have access? Will individuals have access under ‘freedom of information’ laws and policies?

If body cameras do become law, all that is visible in a person’s home will be on camera if and when the police enter a person’s home! Homes will become ‘public-viewing’ spaces for all to see. People who have ‘desired’ items inside their homes can and will become visible prey….

A person’s home will no longer be private. Folk can anonymously summon police officers and police officers can mistakenly go to and enter the wrong home. Yet, if an officer enters that home, all will be recorded on camera footage to be viewed later….

What will happen if ‘suspected’ illegal substances or items are subsequently viewed on body camera footage? What will happen when police enter homes where people are UNclothed or viewed as improperly clothed? Will we be seen ‘naked’ on body camera footage and where will that footage go? Do we really believe that ‘integrity’ will be employed or keep us safe from public viewing?

How many citizens will be co-opted as a result of body camera footage? How many people will be discouraged from calling for help as a result of police wearing body cameras? What victim of abuse wants to be publicly viewed as a result of the requirement for body cameras! Who really wants a police person to enter his or her home while wearing a body camera that puts ALL and everyone inside on film?

Police wearing body cameras is NOT a solution to racist police brutality!

The requirement for local police officers to wear body cameras puts all at risk. Local police officers will also be targeted as a result. If body cameras are made policy or law, there will be occasions when police officers wearing body cameras will unknowingly enter spaces that subject them to danger as a result of their body cameras. Afterall, the body cameras will film what police officers fail to see….

Do not be tricked by emotions or alleged hypes. If police body cameras are made law or required, please ‘insist’ that all police officers everywhere in America be required to wear body cameras — without exception or excuse. And, insist that police body camera video be continuous and fluid while the officer is on duty — regardless of the situation and circumstances.

Be Aware! Be Informed!

Feel free to share this BlackAngryWomen blog with others. http://BlackAngryWomen.com/

Don’t forget our reparations.


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Racism 18: Death of ‘Black’ Michael Brown – Ferguson, Missouri ‘White’ Cop Shoots and Kills

It is Friday, 28 November 2014. As I sit here, my mind is focused on the countless Ferguson, Missouries and the continued and never-ending racist injustice heaped on Black folk here in a racist and ‘White’ America. My dear friend and confidant ‘Black’ David Eaton said it first to me and I repeat same here – ‘White’ America went from barbarism to decadence without a period of civilization in between.

In regards to the killing of UNarmed 18-year-old ‘Black’ Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, BlackParentSpeaks is heartened to see the reactionary expressions of anger that are coming from ‘Black’ America. Black people are shot daily by Whites who actually believe that they are entitled to injure and kill Blacks – without repercussions, redress, or outcry. Racism is ugly, dangerous, and deadly. A racist and collective ‘White’ mentality has allowed — and encourages — America to fill its graveyards and its prisons with millions of Black bodies.

Today, BlackParentSpeaks sees an increasing number of Black people who are tired of being terrorized, plantationized, oppressed, and contained by Whites. Think about the irony – oppressive and racist Whites projecting themselves as superior to US.

As a teenager in the 1960s, I was recruited and offered the top secretarial job with the Agency for International Development (AID) in DC. After listening to the wisdom of my ‘Black’ father, I accepted the position offered and left my home in Oregon and traveled to DC — at the expense of the Federal Government.

Upon arrival in DC, I was told that the Comptroller of AID expected me to be ‘White’ and I was DENIED the position I had accepted with AID ‘because they did not allow Blacks to work in the Comptroller’s office….’ Although my pay remained per our agreement, I was assigned to work in the secretarial pool. Needless to say, I was not happy and sought legal help from the DC Neighborhood Legal Services Project (NLSP).

America’s legal system permitted racism and racial discrimination and the NLSP attorney I contacted for help took advantage of my trust (In my words, he ‘purposely(?)’ failed to properly represent me.) Was I angry?

After expressing my anger and confronting the attorney accordingly, that attorney offered me the choice of accepting a top secretarial position with NLSP or ‘running home to Daddy and Momma’. Again, after talking to my father and ‘allowing’ that attorney to likewise talk to my father, I accepted the position offered by NLSP.

Even though I did accept the NLSP position, I remained angry and disappointed and I learned an invaluable lesson about mankind and trust. As I continued in my pursuit of justice, I sought the help of the DC Student Non-Violent (lka National) Coordinating Committee – SNCC.

Upon meeting SNCC Director ‘Black’ Lester McKinney and some of the brothers and sisters who worked with SNCC, I felt immediately drawn to offer my assistance in the fight against racism and oppression. My skills and abilities were beyond impressive and I knew that my help was needed because so much ‘appeared’ to be in disarray at the DC SNCC headquarters. So, instead of me getting help from SNCC, I became a ‘trusted’ volunteer on-the-spot!

In quick order, I began working with ‘Black’ folk like Stokely Carmichael (lka Kwame Ture), Marion Barry, Rev. David Eaton, Calvin Rolark, and others. I never accepted a penny for the work I did in the ‘Movement’ – rather, along with volunteering, I helped in financing the ‘Movement’. As information, South African singer Miriam Makeba also helped financially. Sister Makeba later married Stokely in New York. Before Stokely, Sister Makeba had been married to South African musician Brother Hugh Masekela.

Please excuse BlackParentSpeaks for getting off track in this post. This post is intended to be about what is currently happening in political Black America; therefore, I will now return to my original intent with regards to this BlackAngryWomen post.

BlackParentSpeaks is heartened to witness the reactionary expressions of anger and outrage that come from the souls of ‘Black’ America. Ferguson brings to mind the 1960s and 1970s ‘Movement’ which was similarly often triggered by the racist killing of a Black at the hands of ‘White’ America.

We Black militants worked tirelessly and faithfully in the ‘Movement’. We were unapologetically active revolutionaries who ate and slept the ‘Movement’ as we paid our dues and the dues of others’. And, as we refused to let others turn us around, we were likewise met by ‘White’ orchestrated cries of “they are destroying their own neighborhoods and communities”….

As buildings and structures went up in flames, as cars were overturned and burned, as merchandise was ‘liberated’ from stores, ‘White-thinking folk’ asked foolish questions and made foolish statements UNworthy of our response. WE kept our eyes on the prize and refused to be turned around. As ‘Black’ Brother James Brown once stated, ‘I rather die on my feet than sit in my seat’….

Racism has been — and continues to be — a reality in America. Whites have been out-of-control for over 400 years now. Whites have continuously terrorized Black folk in America and any and all ‘supposed’ lulls were due to ‘Black’ demands and actions. White folk are the oppressors. White folk are the racists! It is White people who think and/or project themselves as superior to US who are Black.

Stop for a minute and think of the ludicrousy of Whites who voice their sentiments of White superiority. Oppressive and racist Whites speak words that both decry and blame the oppressed – words that ‘attempt’ to blame US for our own oppression. Well, the victim is not to blame. Every time I look in the mirror I see a victim of White racism – me.

Just as I did not allow my White oppressors to dictate to me when I was young, I continue to NOT allow Whites to dictate my reaction to my oppression at their hands. To do otherwise would mean that BlackParentSpeaks is either a sell-out or out of her God-blessed ‘Black’ mind…. BlackParentSpeaks is forever indebted to her people, her ancestors; and, BlackParentSpeaks hopes and prays that she has served – and continues to serve — her ancestors well.

My people, my ‘Black’ ancestors, were forcefully and viciously enslaved and brought to this country – dubbed ‘America’ — in chains. My ancestors were maimed and killed. My ancestors were cut open and their limbs were cut off by their White oppressors. My people were castrated and hung from trees while White men, women, and children rejoiced over the sight while picnicking. (‘Black’ Nina Simone sang of the Strange Fruit.)

My people were whipped and raped. My ‘Black’ ancestors were torn from their families and sold to ‘White’ slaveholders who garnered wealth and material riches as a result of their inhumanity to us Blacks. My Black people were tricked and abused and used as ‘sport’ by treacherous and evil White men and White women. My ‘Black’ father, when a child, was saved from death by his Creek mother who hid him from the Whites intent on using him as sport in their weekly ‘White’ game of drag racing….

We who are Black must be vigilant in our pursuit of righteousness — a life free of fear and ‘White’ terror. We must hold White folk accountable. We must keep our eyes on the prize! We must be pro-active and we must make demands. We must keep our eyes on the prize! We must each decide the course of action we will each take in order to help liberate ourselves and each other in a racist America.

It is important to note that Black self-defense is NOT violence! Violence is what is inflicted upon Blacks in a racist America. BlackParentSpeaks emphatically states that Black people have a right to be angry. And, we have an obligation and a responsibility to express our anger in whatever way or fashion WE so choose…. ‘White’-oriented folk do NOT have the right to dictate or judge ‘Black’ reaction or ‘Black’ response to White terrorism. It is both logical and sane that Black folk REBEL and it is important that WE define and choose the words to describe what WE do.

Be Aware! Be Involved!

Feel free to share this BlackAngryWomen blog with others. http://BlackAngryWomen.com/

Don’t forget our reparations.


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August 2014 IS THIS THE FACE OF A KILLER KOP? ‘White’ DARREN WILSON in Ferguson, Missouri….

Wilson was earlier identified in a photo shared on Yahoo!, that was originally uploaded to Facebook by his father

 

IS THIS THE FACE OF A KILLER KOP? — The Ferguson, Missouri 6-Year Veteran ‘White’ Police Officer DARREN WILSON whose gun reportedly discharged multiple times and ended the life of Unarmed ‘Black’ 18-Year-Old Michael Brown on 9 August 2014.

NBC News has verified photos of Darren Wilson, #Ferguson police officer who killed #MikeBrown http://on.msnbc.com/1mXDPna
6:47 AM – 17 Aug 2014

+++++++++++++++++++

August 2014 IS THIS THE FACE OF A KILLER KOP? ‘White’ DARREN WILSON in Ferguson, Missouri….

BlackParentSpeaks has been aware, involved, lived and remained ‘Black’ long enough to witness the repeat of history over and over and over again.  White America continues to grapple with its racist past, present, and future. The 9 August 2014 killing of unarmed ‘Black’ 18-year-old Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri by Ferguson six-year veteran ‘White’ Police Officer Darren Wilson is a typical in-our-face reminder of racism and everyday life in America.

Overstanding the message sent as a result of the killing of unarmed 18-year-old ‘Black’ Michael Brown by ‘White’ Police Officer Darren Wilson, BlackParentSpeaks has visions of the 1967 Washington, DC Police killing of another Black youth – c. 18-year-old Clarence Booker. Youthful and unarmed Clarence Booker was shot and killed ‘allegedly’ as a result of the most-grievous crime of littering.  BlackParentSpeaks was one of the many many many Black folk who proactively ‘took to the streets’ of DC, organized, and demanded and ‘successfully’ helped in holding White folk accountable for their racist actions. OUR unrestricted and unlimited actions helped in forcing ‘real’ change in our nation’s capital.

This BlackAngryWomen post is written to the Black people of Ferguson, Missouri:

Do NOT let the media, White-thinking folk or others choose your words or actions.  White folk riot — Black folk do not!  We Blacks are involved in a rebellion — not a riot!  We have overwhelming reason, justification, and purpose for the actions we take in rebelling against injustice and racism.  WE Blacks are the victims of White racism.  WE are the victims of 400 plus years of slavery, discrimination, unpaid forced labor and more….  Black people can never even come close to reclaiming all that is owed us and our people!  That said….

Before any settlements or talks of settlements are had, BlackParentSpeaks offers the following bits of wisdom.

1. Demand and get in writing a legally binding agreement with ALL law enforcement agencies (local, City, County, State, and Federal) that clearly guarantees that NONE of the demonstrators, protesters (so-called “looters, etc.”) will be prosecuted for ANY so-called illegal activities that followed the killing of ‘Black’ Michael Brown by Ferguson, Missouri ‘White’ Police Officer Darren Wilson. This demand should be NONnegotiable. If not, the Police will pick you off one by one and file charges against you once the eyes of the nation and world are no longer watching or interested in the events in Ferguson, Missouri.

BlackParentSpeaks also strongly suggests that you require a public statement by a government official (perhaps your overseeing ‘White’ Governor Jay Nixon) expressing that the people’s anger and actions were overstandable and no prosecutions or charges will be imposed against any of the protesters or demonstrators or so-called “looters, etc.” who took to the streets following the killing of ‘Black’ Michael Brown. Further, any and all already filed charges or prosecutions will be dropped and/or dismissed. Note: Missouri ‘White’ Governor Jay Nixon might want to include in his statement a piece about ‘us all working together to heal the racist divide’ that has PUBLICLY surfaced as a result of the ‘White’ officer shooting and killing of unarmed 18-year-old ‘Black’ Michael Brown….

Contact Information for Missouri Governor Jay Nixon:
Missouri Governor Jay Nixon
216 State Capitol
P.O. Box 720
Jefferson City, MO 65102
Fax:(573)751-1495
Tel:(573)751-3222
email: mogov@mail.mo.gov
web: http://www.mo.gov/

2. Demand the return of all cell phones, Laptops, IPads, cameras, film, footage, pictures, text messages, and other items seized, confiscated, and illegally taken from demonstrators and protesters by law enforcement during the aftermath of the killing of ‘Black’ Michael Brown. In the event that any item is not returned in its original prior-to-seizure condition (as determined solely by the victim of the seized item), a lump sum government payment of $2500 is to be issued forthright to the victim. Further, that $2500 will NOT be counted as income to the victim under any charitable or assistance programs, local, City, County, State, or Federal programs or entities. And, the payment is NOT reportable on any income tax returns or used to determine eligibility for any government or private or charitable programs including Food Stamps, Housing, and other assistance and help programs.

All who had their personal property taken by law enforcement should ‘assume’ that texts messages, contacts, pictures, etc. have been copied and could be used in future attempts to create havoc and problems for them. Please do not underestimate the anger of those who are determined to ‘hush’ your righteous cries for justice….

Of course, there are other demands that must be put in place and there remains the charge to hold Ferguson, Missouri 6-Year Veteran ‘White’ Police Officer DARREN WILSON accountable….

I strongly urge the Black folk of Ferguson, Missouri and throughout these United States to recognize that the fight to lessen and end racism is serious business. Know that you are freedom fighters and you are not alone in this struggle. Please do not fall prey to ‘smiling faces’ or words designed to separate us from each other – no matter the race, job, or position of the person speaking the words.

BlackParentSpeaks says ‘Right-On’ to ALL who have taken to the streets in Ferguson. I say use ‘whatever means is necessary’ to get answers and righteous justice.

By the way, the audacity of a ‘White’ mindset to tell Black adults that they must stay inside and not venture outside of their homes because of a racially-discriminatory CURFEW is beyond angering to me! Do not let yourselves be corralled or caged. Simply put, Black people are human beings and Black people have the right to walk and travel the streets like any other people. Please do NOT let others frighten you into accepting  apartheid in Ferguson, Missouri.

‘Don’t forget our reparations’.

Feel free to share this BlackAngryWomen blog with others.  http://BlackAngryWomen.com/

We are all works in progress.

Be Aware!  Stay Involved!


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Black Lulu Learns, Swings, and Gets on Base

Travel Forward to the 1940s, 1950s, 1960s….

Growing up ‘Black’ in ‘White’ Portland, Oregon was not an easy task.  The times were such that the racism could suffocate and devour a ‘Black’ spirit.  Some of the ‘White’ businesses posted signs boasting ‘white only’ or some other equally offensive barrier indicator directed at us Black folk.

In spite of the open racism and the barriers put in place by Whites, Black development managed to flourish and thrive.  My ‘Black’ father started and operated ‘successful’ businesses that helped in supporting and sustaining our increasing-in-numbers Black community.

My father’s moving and storage business provided jobs primarily filled by the Black men and Black male youth of the community.  Daddy’s accounting business handled government-mandated reports and forms for the Black community while also supporting Chinese, Mexican, and Cuban needs.  Our family’s second-hand store (The 3 Js) had a rather steady stream of folk and often the store inventory was simply given away.  Our customers included mostly Blacks, Mexicans, Cubans, and Roma peoples.   The 3 Js also housed the humongous printing press that my father built and taught me to operate.

My mother’s multiple rental properties provided shelter primarily to Blacks, as well as Roma and other nonWhites.  My father maintained the properties – repapering walls, painting, replacing windows and doors, changing locks, laying new flooring, handling electrical and plumbing problems, and more….  While a young child, I often tagged along with my father and helped with maintaining the rental properties as I was able.

I remember one Black lady in particular – a lady my mother met on the street.  The lady was an ‘older’ Black woman who appeared alone and homeless.  My mother invited the lady in and my family soon moved the lady into our apartments.  We went shopping for food and other items necessary to make the apartment a ‘home’ for the lady.  My family made sure there was always phone service to the apartment and we took care of all the utilities and more.  My family also provided the lady – whom we eventually came to know as Mrs. Smith — with spending money.

Often, both my mother and I visited with the lady and listened to her ‘words’ and thoughts.  I felt comfortable in Mrs. Smith’s company and I learned a lot.  Always, my mother and/or I checked the refrigerator and kitchen cabinets and my mother and I would stock and re-stock the foods and drinks according to Mrs. Smith’s wants and decided-upon needs and more.  My mother felt really close to Mrs. Smith.  The time was c.1950-1960.

On a consistent basis – sometimes oftener than monthly – Mrs. Smith telephoned our family home and spoke of the government listening to her thoughts and spying on her via the walls of her apartment….  At those times, my father simply packed up supplies – including wallpaper and paints – and we went to the apartment and repapered and repainted the walls to Mrs. Smith’s peaceful delight.  My daddy told me that what Mrs. Smith said could be true – the government could easily be spying on her and others of us.  Daddy advised that we not discuss Mrs. Smith or her whereabouts with anyone outside our immediate family.

Daddy always seemed to have common sense solutions to any and all problems and he always showed patience and overstanding.  My mother and father took care of Mrs. Smith, who stayed in our apartments until the day she ‘gave up the ghost’….

The evolving names of my family’s businesses included the Williams Avenue Development Company, Stroud Service System, Stroud Moving and Storage, and more.  Although Daddy initially ran the businesses from our family home, he soon rented and leased buildings to house our businesses as well as the local NAACP…. Eventually, Daddy moved his businesses into a new building he contracted to purchase.

During the early days of our family businesses, Daddy and Mamacita used the same phone number for our house phone and our business location phone.  However, due to the volume of calls coming in, Mamacita and Daddy had sequential number phones installed at both our home and business locations.  And, as the population of Oregon grew, the number of digits in our phone numbers also increased.

My father was creative in all that he did.  Whether on the golf course daily and walking from hole to hole on his hands or doing pushups on the course while lining up his balls on the greens, Daddy was creative.  The ‘White’ golfers marveled at my father’s exceptional abilities on the course and often challenged Daddy in their veiled attempts to deflate what they perceived as Daddy’s unwavering ego.

Daddy was always a ‘family’ man and enjoyed the company of his children wherever he was.  Daddy often said ‘If I can’t take my children with me to a place, then your Daddy does not need to be at that place….’  Rose City Golf Course in Portland became what my siblings, my mother, and I jokingly dubbed ‘Daddy’s second home’.

Because Daddy was often at Rose City, he often conducted various aspects of his businesses from the club house.  Daddy was adept at all he did and he worked out the details of moving jobs, storage costs, and more by way of the phone located in the club house.  In fact, Daddy was so good at what he did that he seemed to always be on-target with regards to the time needed to complete a job, space requirements for storage and so on.

As a child, there were times when I went along with the moving men on moving jobs.  Although I was a child, I ‘carried’ my weight – lifting and moving household items and helping to pack and unpack the moving vans, etc.  And, at the end of the day, my father gave me the authority to pay the workers and I maintained the receipts and records.  Math was a favorite of mine and I was better-than-good at calculating.

My earliest memories include my father’s teachings.  Daddy taught me how to think.  Daddy taught me Math, English, Science, how to type, how to operate the printing press he had made, and more.  As a result of my father’s teachings, I was somewhat beyond the course offerings at the ‘White’ elementary school my ‘Black’ family was legally required to help integrate during the 1950s.

Integration at Irvington Elementary School in Portland, Oregon was unpleasant at best.  I was a third grader and faced the racial hatred of both the ‘White’ community of Irvington and its ‘White’ parents and their non-thinking and cruel children.

At lunch time, the White kids would open their milk cartons and splash the cafeteria floor with milk in hopes that I would slip and fall while walking in the cafeteria.  Always, when I was ‘allowed’ to get up from my ‘assigned’ seat to get my food, I prepared myself for the inevitable and somehow managed to avoid falling although I was often splashed with the milk thrown by the White kids.

The White adults in the school cafeteria refused to offer me protection.  Instead, the adults laughed along with the White children and encouraged more and more of the children to toss their milk in my direction.  And, at times, one or more of the adults would even dare to toss milk in my direction.  No matter the route I took to the food line, it seemed I was always subjected to such abuse and ugliness in the Irvington Elementary School cafeteria.

I remember my teacher Mrs. Spear especially because of her sheer ugliness towards me.  The White children in my class were relentless in their abuse of me and I attempted to get help from my White teacher, Mrs. Spear.  Needless to say, the teacher proved to be just as abusive in her racial hatred.  Mrs. Spear not only refused to help me, she heightened the abuse and enabled all of the White students to do to me whatever they chose.  Mrs. Spear openly stated that ‘my kind’ should not be going to Irvington School, etc.

Although I was a youngster, I knew that I had to be my own protector while at Portland’s ‘White and racist’ Irvington School.  The daily abuse I was subjected to was forming a knot in my stomach.  I knew that I was on my own and that I would have to do something to stop the abuse both in class and in the school cafeteria.

My father had always schooled me relative to racism.  Daddy had prepared me and he had told me that when I was ready to put an end to the racial abuse at ‘White’ Irvington Elementary School, I would know what to do….  Daddy had explained that he could not be with me daily at school, however, he would support whatever decision I had to make in order to protect myself.

Well, that moment of truth finally came.

One day, after continued abuse and mockery and more in ‘White’ Mrs. Spear’s class, I made one last ditch effort to solicit help from my teacher.  Mrs. Spear not only did NOT help, she pushed me and spoke ugly and uglier words to me while the ‘White’ students laughed and joined in.  Mrs. Spear told the class that they could take whatever they wanted to take from me, etc.

Following Mrs. Spear’s angry push, I stumbled back to my desk.  A White student named John came over to my desk, hit me, and ripped my pencil out of my hand. The lead from the pencil cut into the skin covering my hand.  John and the other White students laughed loudly and began to chant and tease me further.  My teacher Mrs. Spear also showed amusement before glaring at me angrily and speaking more ugly racist words.

As my stomach churned, I reached into my desk and took ahold of my ruler before approaching the ‘leader’ of the racist pack of White students – John.  I politely asked John to give me back my pencil – a pencil my father had engraved with the name of our family business.  John refused, laughed, and spoke ugly and uglier words as he threatened to ‘beat me up’.

In short order, I again demanded the return of my property.  John grew visibly angrier as he balled up his fist and attempted to hit me.  Needless to say, I was quicker and faster as I blocked his punch and simultaneously, as other ‘White’ students moved to descend on me, I took a firm grasp of my 3-edge ruler and swung it across John’s forehead.

The ruler broke off in John’s head and blood appeared to squirt out from his head as John proceeded to fall to the floor.  And, as John fell, I grabbed my pencil from his hand and ran out of the classroom, through the school and out the front door with a mob of Whites – including the teacher – in hot pursuit.

Being fast, I outran the mob and – thank God – my father was home when I dashed through the front door of our house.  I screamed to my Daddy that the Whites were going to “lynch” me because I had killed a ‘White’ male classmate – John.

Daddy calmed me down and assured me that no one was going to “lynch” me….  Daddy expressed that anyone so intent on doing me harm would have to kill him first.  Daddy asked me to tell him all of what had happened.  After that, Daddy took me back to school and we went directly to the Principal’s office.

The White Principal reached out to grab me when he saw my father and I enter his office.  Daddy, however, blocked the Principal’s hand and directed me to sit down.  Daddy sat down next to me as he listened to the hate-filled words the ‘standing’ Principal spoke.

During the course of the Principal’s tirade, the Principal stated ‘we all know John was NOT at fault because John comes from upstanding parents in this community….’  Quickly, my Daddy rose from the chair he was seated in and stood face-to-face in front of the Principal.  Daddy calmly and pointedly told the White Principal that ‘Lulu comes from UPSTANDING parents in this community….’

Near the conclusion of the meeting, Daddy told the Principal that he, my Daddy, was going to buy me another ruler just like the one that had broken off in John’s head.   Daddy then told the Principal that he was again directing me to use the ruler to protect myself if and when needed.  And, Daddy told the Principal that if he – the Principal — or any other White adult ever again attempted to harm me at school, he – my Daddy – would personally handle the adults himself.

Word of what had happened, my reaction, and my father’s response quickly traveled throughout the Irvington community and beyond.  Black adults openly applauded me for my bravery and strength.  My mother – who was ‘fragile’ — feared for my safety.  And, the racist non-thinking White kids at Irvington School decided to leave me alone as they quietly whispered to each other “Lulu is crazy”….

‘Don’t forget our reparations’.

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We are all works in progress.

Undying love for Black people!

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Black Trip and Black Slip

It seems that I have always respected and valued communication with my Black and Original ancestors. Although I admittedly do not always follow their counsel, I do look to them often for direction, overstanding, forgiveness and more.

On one particular night during my 1960s – 1970s ‘Movement’ days, Stokely ‘Black Power’ Carmichael (lka Kwame Ture) and I both felt a sudden uneasiness while riding through the streets of Washington, DC. Stokely was at the wheel of the car and I was seated in the passenger side. For no apparent reason, I felt a sudden uneasiness; squirmed and quickly turned around. Almost simultaneously, Stokely voiced a similar uneasiness.

As was often typical, Stokely and I saw that we were being followed by folk we ‘assumed’ to be FBI/CIA. This time, however, their presence in the car that trailed us was not met with ‘comic relief’ or gestures. Instead, Stokely and I instantly knew that the evening was not ‘intended’ to end well.

Stokely pressed down on the gas pedal hard as we raced through the streets of DC with the car that was following us in hot pursuit. Quickly, Stokely and I prepared for a probable violent confrontation should the car manage to overtake us. We overstood the seriousness of the situation….

As Stokely and I discussed tactics over the blare of our car’s radio, we spoke words to one another and to our ancestors. Stokely told me that he did not have his drivers license; we both knew that that fact alone would provide an ‘out’ for law enforcement to justify their ‘intended’ violence towards us. No matter the cost, Stokely and I both knew that we could not let that happen. Me, I did have my drivers license….

So, as our car raced on sidewalks and streets throughout the DC area, Stokely and I did what we had to do. (Today, I marvel at the protection and agility our ancestors provided us with….)

While gunning the pedal to the metal, Stokely and I somehow managed to change places with me winding up in the driver’s seat of the car.

Having made the switch while the car was in full motion, there was no time or way to adjust the driver’s seat, etc. to accommodate my shorter body frame. Stokely continued to operate the steering wheel throughout the duration of the ‘chase’ as I managed to slip my foot under his on the gas pedal. I kept my foot grounded on the car’s gas pedal as Stokely and I continued to travel the streets of DC.

Stokely and I drove through alleys, on sidewalks, on streets – you name it. And, although the pursuing car tried to continue the chase, we eventually – with the help of our ancestors – managed to leave that car in our dust.

In time, Stokely and I ditched the car and ran via our feet through various buildings and more until we reached a ‘safe’ destination amongst DC’s Black population. As Stokely and I sat amongst the safety of our people, we both laughed heartily and long and spoke of how we had managed to do that which many had thought to be ‘impossible’….

Needless to say, both Stokely and yours truly lived to fight another day and another night!

Undying love for Black people!

Feel free to share this BlackAngryWomen blog with others. We are all works in progress.

‘Don’t forget our reparations’.

Do YOU know what time it is?

 

http://BlackAngryWomen.com/