Friday, August 18, 2006

What is Black Culture....

It seems like a simple question right... I was confronted with this what I was reading an article from the New York Times. The title of the article was Overcoming Adoption’s Racial Barriers. It raised several questions for me. Can black children learn and understand black culture from un-black parents? How important is it to have parents to have the same cultural understanding as the child? When white parents looking to adopt a black child they have to show that impart black culture to there child, it made me pause, and ask what is black culture.

It seems like an easy question, no? It is BET. It is style of dress. It is black films. It’s voting for Democrats. It’s soul food. It’s a shared history. It just is... right? Basically, it s a sum of values and behaviors that makes up a people’s lifestyle and approach to life. Culture is most easily seen in everyday life, like the things that I listed above.

What if you do like BET or Black films? Does that mean that you are not black? Of course not....
What if you do like the “that” style of dress? Does that mean you are not black? Of course not...What if you are vote Republican?.... Are you not black then... (well you have to draw the line somewhere...) No, No, Of course not...

If it black culture is truly values that expressed on a daily basis. Can someone that does not express it’s values on a daily basis, teach a child black culture?

Please don’t miss understand, I’m happy that these children are being a adopted. A loving family is clearly, a better choice for the child then foster care. So, these families may raise little Carltons and Carltonettes. ( I know that you remember our favorite white/black person from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air) And in the children’s future they will deal with there blackness or lack of it.

All I would like to highlight is... what is the role and importance of culture in raising of a child? And for the answer of this, I’m unsure.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

One of my favorite quotes

With all the guile of Satan himself, depression persuades you that its invasion was all your idea, that you wanted it all along. It fogs the part of the brain that reasons, that knows right and wrong. It captures you with its warm, guilty, hateful pleasures, and worst of all, it becames familiar. All at once, you find yourself in the thrall of the very thing that terrifies you. Your work slides, your friendships slide, your marriage slides, but you scarcely notice: to be depressed is to be half in love with distaster.

--(I cant remember the author) But the point is... it was not me.

Monday, August 14, 2006


My friend is the star of this short video. This is one of the funniest things I have seen. My friend a nice lad from New England.... He moved to LA... And now he is all hollywood... Or at least YouTubed.

I'm proud to say I know this man... CHUG AND BLOW chug & blow....

Thursday, August 03, 2006

@ Bob's

Last night, I was at Bob’s Southern Bistro (formerly named bob the chefs). I was at open mic night. It has been a long time since I been. It is not one the strongest open mic nights that I have been too. But is ok... It was good enough to get the creative spirits to move within me. I was thinking... No... Check that, I was worried that the older I get, the less creative I become. Thinking that you are dry is not an exciting place to be...

There was a young girl, there last night. She was about 17 or 18 years old. When she stepped up the mic... It gave the room pause, the young girl has presence. But she did this piece entitled “I am”. It was good, people were feeling it. It was reminding me of the searching for self that we crave at certain points in our life.

So I guess that.. my napkin piece is a personal response to this young lady. That is below.

 Untitled – (@ Bob’s Bistro’s Open Mic night)

Every Negro Tendency

I have fallen off me ... With some of the ills that “frame” a brother
-- no love for weed
-- the accent

Soulless brother in the soulless world
To the point that...
A friend dated to call me pale ..
When is plain to see that the Negro is me ...
I’m from the place that when I’m in grade school
People picked on me...

“ Booty Scratcher... African Booty Scatcher.... Booty Scratcher ... Africa”

It’s the place where my first breath was on this earth... on the CON-TE-NET of Africa.
But my contents is not ..FULL...
For my accent
Lacking Urban sassiest
Urban fav-or

But I stand for all to see
A Black man
with the sense of purpose
with the sense of righteous
with a sense of our forefathers
A Man.. much more... that is no longer standing for less