Those of you who know me, know that I always feel as if I am one of the smartest people in any room that I may find myself in … except for when my lil’ sister is in the room, yes my biological sister.
Shante is like 32 I think (if you have more than one kid you’re lucky if you even call the right one the right name at the right time, so you know ages go out the window - I can barely remember mine sometimes). Anyway, she is ADB at NYU and just has a whole host of accolades attached to her name, so it seems while I played Techmo Superbowl in my room on my Nintendo all through high school she was apparently in her room doing homework or something.
And that was way before Madden, that is my adult obsession but Techmo Superbowl was the don dada, that was the first football game that your guys could jump to catch the pass in, had a halftime show, flipped the field at halftime, and a nice little celebration after you won the super bowl … Oh, and most importantly it was the first football game to start keeping stats unheard of in the late 80’s. My team was Houston; back when they had Warren Moon and I used to cheese that fly pattern with Earnest Givens as the “Y” receiver… no one wanted it!
So the other day she responds to the family paradox post and raises all these wonderful questions and uncovers all these wonderful insights, which in turn inspired me to write again on the topic spring boarding off of some of her observations.
Oh, and Google her when you get some time (‘Shante Smalls’ or visit http://www.shanteparadigm.com), she is one of the most talented, intelligent, generous, and well respected people I know and I am so glad that I get the honor of being her big brother …
Shante is a practicing Buddhist, who was raised within the same family environment - that in itself is perceived as a paradox because the Christian tradition believes in homogeneous regeneration. Meaning that if one is raised in a Christian home one should turn into a Christian, I believe this is loosely based on “raise a child in the way he should go and when he is older he will never depart”. I know from my personal home experience that people who believe in the supernatural (atonement, transformation, etc.) can also suffer from a lack of supernatural imagination. “Raising a child in the way…” seems to suffer from an extremely narrow interpretation. Some might say that I suffer from a heretical imagination but we won’t digress there at this time.
How is it that most Christians have better relationships with friends of their choosing than they do with their own family members? We could offer the weak excuses, which usually place the blame at the feet of the “unsaved loved one” or we could question our practices, which have subtly taught us exclusion over the years. Reaching quickly for our “unequally yoked” line of reasoning, or my favorite “when I’m there they all know to watch their language - yada, yada, yada” and in the end that seems more like a barometer on our own spirituality than an true demarcation of whatever positive impact we may or may not have left.
This much I do know. I am the culmination of all my experiences at 36 years of age and that includes all the Evangelism pitfalls I am always railing against, the old school Pentecostalism that boarders on mysticism at times, and the whole Ecumenical exposure throughout my high school years that has truly shaped most of my spirituality. When I tally it all up at the end and watch the witness of my sister’s life I’m hard pressed to believe that this Gospel message is really reduced down to who is wearing what color jersey … not when God’s word tells me that He seems to be concerned with the condition of a person’s heart. Besides, by Christian standards I’m on the outside looking in as well … so who am I to defend the prosecution?
Mar 26, 2008
Black Imagination – what’s a nigga to do? Part 3
An interesting imagery submitted into discussion, suggested the word had grown to Pandora like proportions rendering us incapable of ever claiming any ability to reframe or reform the word or its usage. How can a people group compete against a musical genre culture, which purports that it is the voice of that people’s group youth culture? Plainly stated, Urban Black America created Hip-Hop culture to redefine our savage, concrete reality while celebrating the elements of hope oxy-moronically thriving within that bleak existence. Thirty years later it has become the largest revenue grossing music genre in the world as well as the pied piper of African American misconception while simultaneously enticing and seducing an entire generation to eagerly seek the destructive inheritance set aside for those who aspire to become “niggers”.
One of the older brothers stated he believes the word has become so “watered down” that it doesn’t even hold the same significance toward African Americans anymore but instead points more in the direction of a demonic mindset being projected into and onto the lives of this generation of young people. It is almost impossible for me not to interpret his views through the lens of geography; he has lived in New York City for the majority of his life and is a product of the Black Power and Civil Rights Movements. Though I know he empathizes with the views of our Southern brothers, I think it is unconscionable for him to infer that the word “nigger” has lost its ability to puncture the soul of any African American, particularly those who’ve suffered the indignity of repeatedly being called this word to their face, beginning with the vulnerable and formative years of their youth. With all of that being understood, I do believe this brother has uncovered an extremely interesting point.
How are we to view this newest evolutionary twist from the word and its most recent carriers; it now travels through the lips of Chinese, Mexican, Indian, and German youth-just to name a few-as they communicate with one another using the word in terms of inclusion and affection while equally interchangeable with anger and inanimate identifications. Basically they have learned to use the word in the same manner we as African Americans do because we have taught them extremely well. Their tutelage has followed the same trajectory as that of our Puerto Rican brethren whom we share neighborhoods, buildings, and schools with as well as the creation of one of our greatest accomplishment, Hip-Hop Culture.
The one question, which left the majority of my interviewees with some sort of bewilderment, was when I asked them if they could explain why we were the only people group to use a term of destruction as a term of endearment towards one another …
One of the older brothers stated he believes the word has become so “watered down” that it doesn’t even hold the same significance toward African Americans anymore but instead points more in the direction of a demonic mindset being projected into and onto the lives of this generation of young people. It is almost impossible for me not to interpret his views through the lens of geography; he has lived in New York City for the majority of his life and is a product of the Black Power and Civil Rights Movements. Though I know he empathizes with the views of our Southern brothers, I think it is unconscionable for him to infer that the word “nigger” has lost its ability to puncture the soul of any African American, particularly those who’ve suffered the indignity of repeatedly being called this word to their face, beginning with the vulnerable and formative years of their youth. With all of that being understood, I do believe this brother has uncovered an extremely interesting point.
How are we to view this newest evolutionary twist from the word and its most recent carriers; it now travels through the lips of Chinese, Mexican, Indian, and German youth-just to name a few-as they communicate with one another using the word in terms of inclusion and affection while equally interchangeable with anger and inanimate identifications. Basically they have learned to use the word in the same manner we as African Americans do because we have taught them extremely well. Their tutelage has followed the same trajectory as that of our Puerto Rican brethren whom we share neighborhoods, buildings, and schools with as well as the creation of one of our greatest accomplishment, Hip-Hop Culture.
The one question, which left the majority of my interviewees with some sort of bewilderment, was when I asked them if they could explain why we were the only people group to use a term of destruction as a term of endearment towards one another …
Mar 25, 2008
a voice from the under
The subject of finances and spiritual wellness are prevailing conversations within the African American and Latino Church community simply because most of the congregants are economically challenged in some way. Narrowing our ways of seeing God and reducing His capacity to mostly fiduciary, we desperately need to believe in a God that will supply our every financial need because our financial needs are so overwhelming.
Those within the same faith community who do not suffer from the ravages of under employment and under education seem to attribute their success to God’s favor and blessing over their lives. While it is extremely difficult to argue this thought process, it is juxtaposed to the reality of those without the same benefits but seemingly serving the same God. Therefore to equate God’s blessing with financial wellness is affirming to some and debilitating to others, if for no other reason but that it presents a hazardous question while offering no solid answers.
It is these issues as they relate to financial wellness, which present one of the largest inhibitors to our ability to hear or see the Gospel message with clarity and power. Neither position - those asking for money or those who are asked to provide it - are able to be in agreement, while most of those on the margins of life continue to suffer.
Ironically enough, as we continued to discuss the church’s inability to listen to the voices of the marginalized some within the discussion felt as if they were being pushed off to the margins. It became clear to me that all one needs in order to qualify as a marginalized individual is to simply feel that way. This became the case, as some felt extremely uncomfortable with the direction of the dialogue, seeing it more as an attempt to tear down and indict the Church instead of an objective conversation concerning the perceived blind spots of the Church.
In response to this feeling, those of the marginalized viewpoint began to become vigilant protectors of all things church, conceding nothing - even against certain personal convictions. As this took place the ability to listen to each other began to be replaced with the desire to convert one another, and true to our human blueprint we eventually began retreating from those believed to be in the camp of the opposite point of view.
It was amazing to me as I observed our inability to sit and honor the pain we were witnessing within each other. We were a group that gathered together on some level of commonality, we all at least believed in a theology from below but as we attempted the ministry of coming together our ability to listen to one another began to disintegrate under the weight of our own world-views.
When reflecting on what I saw as I watched Tim during the week I noticed that I had little to no ability to sit in the presence of his pain, no ability to enter into his pain because his pain opened way too many of my own issues. It knocked up against too many of my own “do not enter” areas, so I left him … standing there … alone. Even though he asked me to stand there with him. This is in no way an over dramatic account of the information but more an observation on how I couldn’t do what I feel I am in some ways really called to do.
Look at and understand the pain of others.
I seem to think that I’m able to observe and on some levels understand the utter dysfunctional nature of the Cross - the exceedingly grotesque nature of it all - but as I watched Tim I realized I couldn’t even listen to him. Forget about mustering enough courage to look at him and I get the feeling that most others couldn’t either … not without passing judgment in some manner. When he reached out, I turned my back, and if I could do that with him (a man I have an intense admiration for), I know that I’ve done it with those I work with and believe that I work for.
Those within the same faith community who do not suffer from the ravages of under employment and under education seem to attribute their success to God’s favor and blessing over their lives. While it is extremely difficult to argue this thought process, it is juxtaposed to the reality of those without the same benefits but seemingly serving the same God. Therefore to equate God’s blessing with financial wellness is affirming to some and debilitating to others, if for no other reason but that it presents a hazardous question while offering no solid answers.
It is these issues as they relate to financial wellness, which present one of the largest inhibitors to our ability to hear or see the Gospel message with clarity and power. Neither position - those asking for money or those who are asked to provide it - are able to be in agreement, while most of those on the margins of life continue to suffer.
Ironically enough, as we continued to discuss the church’s inability to listen to the voices of the marginalized some within the discussion felt as if they were being pushed off to the margins. It became clear to me that all one needs in order to qualify as a marginalized individual is to simply feel that way. This became the case, as some felt extremely uncomfortable with the direction of the dialogue, seeing it more as an attempt to tear down and indict the Church instead of an objective conversation concerning the perceived blind spots of the Church.
In response to this feeling, those of the marginalized viewpoint began to become vigilant protectors of all things church, conceding nothing - even against certain personal convictions. As this took place the ability to listen to each other began to be replaced with the desire to convert one another, and true to our human blueprint we eventually began retreating from those believed to be in the camp of the opposite point of view.
It was amazing to me as I observed our inability to sit and honor the pain we were witnessing within each other. We were a group that gathered together on some level of commonality, we all at least believed in a theology from below but as we attempted the ministry of coming together our ability to listen to one another began to disintegrate under the weight of our own world-views.
When reflecting on what I saw as I watched Tim during the week I noticed that I had little to no ability to sit in the presence of his pain, no ability to enter into his pain because his pain opened way too many of my own issues. It knocked up against too many of my own “do not enter” areas, so I left him … standing there … alone. Even though he asked me to stand there with him. This is in no way an over dramatic account of the information but more an observation on how I couldn’t do what I feel I am in some ways really called to do.
Look at and understand the pain of others.
I seem to think that I’m able to observe and on some levels understand the utter dysfunctional nature of the Cross - the exceedingly grotesque nature of it all - but as I watched Tim I realized I couldn’t even listen to him. Forget about mustering enough courage to look at him and I get the feeling that most others couldn’t either … not without passing judgment in some manner. When he reached out, I turned my back, and if I could do that with him (a man I have an intense admiration for), I know that I’ve done it with those I work with and believe that I work for.
Mar 19, 2008
caste, creaming, and others - pt.1
Structurally speaking, the focus of church youth programming or ministry can become extremely compromised whenever the offspring of the most prominent church attendees are involved.
This is hardly an outrageous phenomenon within the context of adult interaction and youth development as often proven by overzealous parents and your local youth sports league. Growing up playing sports was a wonderful experience that equipped me with all the proper axioms, which now consistently attempt to govern the terms of my everyday life. The coach’s kid was always the star quarterback, pitcher, or point guard; unconsciously living as the vicarious vehicle of lost dreams.
Systematically, church based youth development operates under the same principles - straining to provide an equitable environment for various family representatives while subtly mandated to leapfrog the youth with a “specialized family calling”. Church-based programs seem almost bound by the rules of spiritual succession though it is never spoken but almost certainly implied. I don’t think I have ever met a young person whose family was prominent in church-based ministry that had not heard they were also “called” to follow in those footsteps simply due to the nature of their genetic composition. What I believe develops over time is an absolute genuflection of services and opportunities in the direction of that family member and a freeze out of sorts for those not fortunate enough to bear the family crescent.
I am increasingly disheartened by this system of hierarchical creaming, which attempts to influence outcomes by simply herding young people into predestined slots. Plainly stated, kids whose parents have little or no power always seem to get the proverbial short end of the stick, while those in power continually convince themselves that simply providing the best situation for their own teen will somehow create a spiritual Reaganomics type trickle-down theory.
Confronting issues of entitlement, which are so entrenched within the fabric of church culture, leaves one with little ability to protect the infrastructure of the youth ministry/program from the impending stress fractures. Being an eyewitness to these types of interactions have moved me to believe in, and call for complete reformation in our youth ministry methodology. I fear we have become nothing more than an elaborately adorned Christian version of the Caste system. Seemingly less interested in the possibilities that could reside within a communal vision of redemption for our family systems because of our single-minded focus on the establishment of our own family legacies and transferable titles of nobility.
Before discussing some options that might be considered when trying to reform the current system there is an additional portion I would like to explore. This portion deals with the American Christian family’s inability to embrace, enter into, and develop an understanding concerning human pain and suffering. To completely blame the American family is extremely irresponsible because our present church structure is ill equipped to even attempt a basic conceptualization.
Our ecclesiasticism (or principles of thought) is one that seems to promote a “glory to glory” type of Christian experience leaving those with hardships to wonder if they are lacking in faith, knee deep in sin, or simply cursed. Why does the American church gloss over human pain and suffering as if it were an outdated Old Testament ritual? Where did we acquire the viewpoint that any hardship we encounter must originate out of the sin of the person who is suffering without ever considering issues of systemic corruption? Have we become like the witnesses found in Job’s story that only sought to assign blame as a result of a particular person’s sin?
This is hardly an outrageous phenomenon within the context of adult interaction and youth development as often proven by overzealous parents and your local youth sports league. Growing up playing sports was a wonderful experience that equipped me with all the proper axioms, which now consistently attempt to govern the terms of my everyday life. The coach’s kid was always the star quarterback, pitcher, or point guard; unconsciously living as the vicarious vehicle of lost dreams.
Systematically, church based youth development operates under the same principles - straining to provide an equitable environment for various family representatives while subtly mandated to leapfrog the youth with a “specialized family calling”. Church-based programs seem almost bound by the rules of spiritual succession though it is never spoken but almost certainly implied. I don’t think I have ever met a young person whose family was prominent in church-based ministry that had not heard they were also “called” to follow in those footsteps simply due to the nature of their genetic composition. What I believe develops over time is an absolute genuflection of services and opportunities in the direction of that family member and a freeze out of sorts for those not fortunate enough to bear the family crescent.
I am increasingly disheartened by this system of hierarchical creaming, which attempts to influence outcomes by simply herding young people into predestined slots. Plainly stated, kids whose parents have little or no power always seem to get the proverbial short end of the stick, while those in power continually convince themselves that simply providing the best situation for their own teen will somehow create a spiritual Reaganomics type trickle-down theory.
Confronting issues of entitlement, which are so entrenched within the fabric of church culture, leaves one with little ability to protect the infrastructure of the youth ministry/program from the impending stress fractures. Being an eyewitness to these types of interactions have moved me to believe in, and call for complete reformation in our youth ministry methodology. I fear we have become nothing more than an elaborately adorned Christian version of the Caste system. Seemingly less interested in the possibilities that could reside within a communal vision of redemption for our family systems because of our single-minded focus on the establishment of our own family legacies and transferable titles of nobility.
Before discussing some options that might be considered when trying to reform the current system there is an additional portion I would like to explore. This portion deals with the American Christian family’s inability to embrace, enter into, and develop an understanding concerning human pain and suffering. To completely blame the American family is extremely irresponsible because our present church structure is ill equipped to even attempt a basic conceptualization.
Our ecclesiasticism (or principles of thought) is one that seems to promote a “glory to glory” type of Christian experience leaving those with hardships to wonder if they are lacking in faith, knee deep in sin, or simply cursed. Why does the American church gloss over human pain and suffering as if it were an outdated Old Testament ritual? Where did we acquire the viewpoint that any hardship we encounter must originate out of the sin of the person who is suffering without ever considering issues of systemic corruption? Have we become like the witnesses found in Job’s story that only sought to assign blame as a result of a particular person’s sin?
Mar 11, 2008
a day like today ...
I love days like today, the ones in March that have a hint of spring to them. Even though we know New York won’t see real spring-like weather until the fall … we always seem to skip from winter straight to summer.
On a day like today, you would find me in Mrs. Warner’s 7th grade Spanish class. The only drawback to this situation was that Spanish class was right after lunch and it was an elective. I elected to take Mrs. Warner’s class not because of my love for the romantic language of Spanish but because my 11 year-old, distorted - by puppy love – mind had convinced me that this was a good place to work out my crush.
Any way because I chose to play with the language of love, I had to sacrifice recess with my crew … Tony, Stevie, Mike, Kenny, Allan, Allen, Malik, Scott, Paul, and whoever else was rolling hard in 7th grade with us. We played football everyday, seriously everyday. And it must have been some sort of championship tournament because I remember getting mad at Tony one day and trading him for Allen in between plays … like some George Steinbrenner shit … 7th grade recess football was serious and I was missing it for a crush …
Well, they all laughed as Tony told the story. He was looking directly at Jus and K, his head tilted towards the floor slightly and fighting very hard not to allow any of those tears behind his shades to slide down his still chubby checks. “Your father was a good man,” he told them and after a pause he very gently returned to his seat.
I was standing in the back so I really couldn’t see who was next to speak but when I saw that gait I knew exactly who it was. It was almost like looking into a mirror, those deep brown eyes – so hard to read sometimes, the walk, and the confidence, it almost dripped off of him. Shit, I knew who that was no hesitation … that’s my boy. My oldest. I couldn’t believe the sheer amount of satisfaction I was able to feel at that moment … I knew I did it, I knew I had accomplished what I had set out to do … I had been a good father, I raised a man. Someone who could stand on his two feet and decide for himself, feel comfortable within himself but blessed with the capacity to go outside himself.
“My father was a lot of things to a lot of people, if I had to choose a word I would have to say he was an ‘enigma’. Most people just really never understood him. A lot of people thought they knew him, thought they had him figured but you never really know a person until you lived with them – my dad use to say that all the time – and I lived with him … and sometimes I didn’t understand him. I think his mind just worked too fast for most people and by the time they caught up to him he was some place back where he passed before on the journey. He always saw life as cyclical, ‘it all comes back around’ he use to say.”
At that point I saw my boy start to break – he started to fall under the weight of the reality that he wasn’t going to see me anymore and I wasn’t going to see him. He knew we couldn’t play catch again or playstation, or any of those types of things again. The things we did when he was little and in turn did with his children. He knew we played hard for every inning of the game, we held no regrets because we loved hard.
I couldn’t look any longer; I had to get out of there. My tears were racing down my cheeks filling my mouth with the taste of salt and sadness as I watched them let me go.
On a day like today, you would find me in Mrs. Warner’s 7th grade Spanish class. The only drawback to this situation was that Spanish class was right after lunch and it was an elective. I elected to take Mrs. Warner’s class not because of my love for the romantic language of Spanish but because my 11 year-old, distorted - by puppy love – mind had convinced me that this was a good place to work out my crush.
Any way because I chose to play with the language of love, I had to sacrifice recess with my crew … Tony, Stevie, Mike, Kenny, Allan, Allen, Malik, Scott, Paul, and whoever else was rolling hard in 7th grade with us. We played football everyday, seriously everyday. And it must have been some sort of championship tournament because I remember getting mad at Tony one day and trading him for Allen in between plays … like some George Steinbrenner shit … 7th grade recess football was serious and I was missing it for a crush …
Well, they all laughed as Tony told the story. He was looking directly at Jus and K, his head tilted towards the floor slightly and fighting very hard not to allow any of those tears behind his shades to slide down his still chubby checks. “Your father was a good man,” he told them and after a pause he very gently returned to his seat.
I was standing in the back so I really couldn’t see who was next to speak but when I saw that gait I knew exactly who it was. It was almost like looking into a mirror, those deep brown eyes – so hard to read sometimes, the walk, and the confidence, it almost dripped off of him. Shit, I knew who that was no hesitation … that’s my boy. My oldest. I couldn’t believe the sheer amount of satisfaction I was able to feel at that moment … I knew I did it, I knew I had accomplished what I had set out to do … I had been a good father, I raised a man. Someone who could stand on his two feet and decide for himself, feel comfortable within himself but blessed with the capacity to go outside himself.
“My father was a lot of things to a lot of people, if I had to choose a word I would have to say he was an ‘enigma’. Most people just really never understood him. A lot of people thought they knew him, thought they had him figured but you never really know a person until you lived with them – my dad use to say that all the time – and I lived with him … and sometimes I didn’t understand him. I think his mind just worked too fast for most people and by the time they caught up to him he was some place back where he passed before on the journey. He always saw life as cyclical, ‘it all comes back around’ he use to say.”
At that point I saw my boy start to break – he started to fall under the weight of the reality that he wasn’t going to see me anymore and I wasn’t going to see him. He knew we couldn’t play catch again or playstation, or any of those types of things again. The things we did when he was little and in turn did with his children. He knew we played hard for every inning of the game, we held no regrets because we loved hard.
I couldn’t look any longer; I had to get out of there. My tears were racing down my cheeks filling my mouth with the taste of salt and sadness as I watched them let me go.
Black Imagination – what’s a nigga to do? Part 2
As an example of art, imitating life, imitating art let’s review a classic movie from the Black Exploitation or “blaxploitation” genre as it is better known, to observe this phenomenon a little closer - a personal favorite - SuperFly.
Priest, the main character, is the prince of the streets. He is a slick and charismatic pusher who dresses super-sharp and always plays for keeps. Priest wants out of the biz for good, but to buy his way out of the gutter he has to make one final score to earn him the cool million he needs. As he fights and hustles his way to his fortune, he must approach The Man, a shadowy kingpin who runs the entire rotten and corrupt drug trade in the city. When The Man wants Priest to stay on the streets and keep on pushing (because Priest is “a class A pusher”), Priest fights back, triggering an explosion of murder, revenge and double-crossing.
It is extremely interesting to examine how we, as African Americans are able to encase our protagonist in the vilest of situations, have them be devoid of moral repercussions, and yet still have them represent Justice. Symbolism abounds within this movie. The hero is a pimp. Though we never see him sending any of the female characters off to have sex for pay, he does interact with them as if they are the finest portions of his disposable income. The fact that he is a notorious drug dealer and murderer is credited to the circumstance of his condition, which has been created by The Man and is also in direct conflict to what he is really searching for, peace and freedom from the corrupt systems that birthed him. And if all of these symbols were not enough, his name is Priest while the character of The Man remains nameless, virtually faceless, and exceedingly contemptible.
I believe one of the major reasons this film resonates within the African American community is because of its complete inversion of positions held by the establishment and Black America. This inversion of power, interestingly enough could only be articulated in the person of a convoluted and troubled man, he had to have dirt on him in order to reverberate the reality of the Black Experience in America.
It is interesting to note that none of these "inversion of power" issues were even that relevant within the context of the older southern blacks because the word “Nigger” was like an atomic bomb to them. For them there is absolutely no mistaking or misunderstanding within the usage of the word, the convoluted and ambiguous nature of this words post 60’s Northern existence has absolutely no baring in this portion of the discussion; it was purely an act of hatred.
Ironically enough, even though I have no interaction with any portion of my family that might live in or come from the Southern United States this conversation with the older black men from the south was very much like talking with my own father.
My father - Rev. Alonzo J. Smalls - was born in New York City in 1932 during the tail end of The Great Depression, his birth certificate actually sates his race (Colored), so even though he was born in the North it was still a very oppressive New York City - with New York and New Jersey being the last two northern states to outlaw slavery - his experience as a “colored” in the “North” is eerily close to that of a “nigger” in the Jim Crow South. I use this example to bring out the point that geography plays a huge factor into - but is not the only factor when - investigating the views of this word. Up until about the late fifties and early sixties most African Americans had little use for any double-sided meaning for this word and I suspect the idea of a counter cultural usage of this word might have emanated from the radical West coast and Midwest Black Power movements. This radical movement, powered by the angry children of Jim Crow swept across to the Northern Ghettos of the United States where the idea of wholesale systemic change was not only conceivable but also absolutely necessary.
Priest, the main character, is the prince of the streets. He is a slick and charismatic pusher who dresses super-sharp and always plays for keeps. Priest wants out of the biz for good, but to buy his way out of the gutter he has to make one final score to earn him the cool million he needs. As he fights and hustles his way to his fortune, he must approach The Man, a shadowy kingpin who runs the entire rotten and corrupt drug trade in the city. When The Man wants Priest to stay on the streets and keep on pushing (because Priest is “a class A pusher”), Priest fights back, triggering an explosion of murder, revenge and double-crossing.
It is extremely interesting to examine how we, as African Americans are able to encase our protagonist in the vilest of situations, have them be devoid of moral repercussions, and yet still have them represent Justice. Symbolism abounds within this movie. The hero is a pimp. Though we never see him sending any of the female characters off to have sex for pay, he does interact with them as if they are the finest portions of his disposable income. The fact that he is a notorious drug dealer and murderer is credited to the circumstance of his condition, which has been created by The Man and is also in direct conflict to what he is really searching for, peace and freedom from the corrupt systems that birthed him. And if all of these symbols were not enough, his name is Priest while the character of The Man remains nameless, virtually faceless, and exceedingly contemptible.
I believe one of the major reasons this film resonates within the African American community is because of its complete inversion of positions held by the establishment and Black America. This inversion of power, interestingly enough could only be articulated in the person of a convoluted and troubled man, he had to have dirt on him in order to reverberate the reality of the Black Experience in America.
It is interesting to note that none of these "inversion of power" issues were even that relevant within the context of the older southern blacks because the word “Nigger” was like an atomic bomb to them. For them there is absolutely no mistaking or misunderstanding within the usage of the word, the convoluted and ambiguous nature of this words post 60’s Northern existence has absolutely no baring in this portion of the discussion; it was purely an act of hatred.
Ironically enough, even though I have no interaction with any portion of my family that might live in or come from the Southern United States this conversation with the older black men from the south was very much like talking with my own father.
My father - Rev. Alonzo J. Smalls - was born in New York City in 1932 during the tail end of The Great Depression, his birth certificate actually sates his race (Colored), so even though he was born in the North it was still a very oppressive New York City - with New York and New Jersey being the last two northern states to outlaw slavery - his experience as a “colored” in the “North” is eerily close to that of a “nigger” in the Jim Crow South. I use this example to bring out the point that geography plays a huge factor into - but is not the only factor when - investigating the views of this word. Up until about the late fifties and early sixties most African Americans had little use for any double-sided meaning for this word and I suspect the idea of a counter cultural usage of this word might have emanated from the radical West coast and Midwest Black Power movements. This radical movement, powered by the angry children of Jim Crow swept across to the Northern Ghettos of the United States where the idea of wholesale systemic change was not only conceivable but also absolutely necessary.
Mar 10, 2008
Black Imagination – what’s a nigga to do? Part 1
In his book, The Souls of Black Folk W.E.B DuBois describes the existence of the Negro male in America as “a problem.” He explains the Negro as a social problem because he lives in “a world, which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world.” His existence as a problem is further complicated by the far-reaching implications of his perceived problematic status and the manner in which it manifests within the institutions of family, community, faith, and economics.
In Race Matters, Cornel West explains this phenomenon as Nihilism, “the lived experience of coping with a life of horrifying meaninglessness, hopelessness, and lovelessness. The frightening result is a numbing detachment from others and a self-destructive disposition toward the world. Life without meaning, hope, and love breeds a cold-hearted, mean-spirited outlook that destroys both the individual and other.” I wanted to find a way to track the effects of the word “nigga” on the life of the African American male and its ability to create for us a subconscious and outwardly manifested nihilistic destiny. That is when I realized I would also need to find away to weigh the effects this word has had on Urban Pop Culture, which is better known as youth culture. If image is indeed everything, then the challenges facing a generation of youth who have been raised with this word inhabiting daily residence within their sentence structure is two-fold.
Primarily, there must be a reintroduction to the vile historical connotations attached to this word and then an education of what the power base’s intentions are for a generation, which proudly identifies themselves as “niggaz.”
I mean if “nigga” is indeed just a word.
If it is true that the image, which is impressed upon you, is the image which one literally owes one’s life to, then what is the outcome when the image that is being sought is one of a “nigga”? I wondered about what historically had been the outcome for African American men and those family members closest to them who suffer because of the misogynistic repercussions attached to this word? Or what the cultural/family/economic implications could be for subsequent generations?
This particular topic presents numerous challenges due to the inflammatory nature of the word - Shit, I throw the word around like a beach ball myself.
I felt my only chance at capturing the true essence of the extremely convoluted emotions attached to this subject was through the medium of media. I interviewed twenty people with rural and urban roots because I figured the perception of the word could also have a lot to do with your own geographical orientations. I also only interviewed African Americans because I wanted to limit the discussion to those who live with the ramifications of the word on a daily basis, asking them seven questions with eight follow-up questions.
I began each interview asking them to share with me the first image that comes to mind when I said the word “nigger.” And I ended each interview asking their opinions on why other race groups do not use the derogatory epithet directed towards them as “terms of endearment” the way we do as African Americans.
The standard interview process lasted approximately 20 minutes in the beginning stages of the project but the conversations steadily began to grow because each person who participated left me with even more issues to bring to the table in subsequent interviews.
Each interview also provided opportunities for symbiotic learning to evolve between people trapped in the same prison; subtly separated by the issues produced by gender, time, and perspective.
It was quite evident that as African Americans we deal with an enormous amount of duality, openly conflicted about our “love/hate” relationship with this word. On some level I thought I was alone in this journey but as dialogue took place I learned I was certainly not the only one who felt the abysmal weight of this graphically profane dysfunction. We shared in our travails with what we proposed to be an outwardly endearing term, which intrinsically produced profoundly unspeakable violence to our inner essence. It was almost like recounting our shared experiences at the hands of a vile abuser.
Every time we tried to give context to the reasoning we had for allowing this word to live amongst us as African Americans, we would promptly and almost instinctively disqualify that particular line of reasoning.
Another interesting finding was how this word surfaced in our interaction with our European (White) brethren: the older the person, as history would dictate, the more violent the usage of the word. With the younger participants the murky and convoluted nature of the word was perpetually present in their interaction with people of European decent. Almost every inclusion of White people into Hip Hop culture produced awkward moments of misidentification on the sides of both parties, causing the “cool white-boy” to feel so comfortable that he would chose not to edit himself when reciting his favorite rap lyrics. Some reported even deeper levels of self-loathing by admitting the allowance of some white people the “honor” of saying the word “nigga” as well as inclusion on terminology, “that white-boy is my Nigga” or “ya’ll my Niggaz”, to present a few examples.
This point also uncovered another layer within our discussion, the inclusive effects of Hip Hop culture, and its easily accessible counterparts - misogyny, murder, and materialism. When we settle in to examine and exegete the content of Hip Hop Culture we are bombarded with images which emanate from the Black Experience.
“Pimp”, Player”, and “Hustler” are words which are rooted in the African American psyche as we attempt to identify ourselves. We search for markers, which symbolize our independence from supremacist thought process, while simultaneously presenting an image of edge and danger.
In Race Matters, Cornel West explains this phenomenon as Nihilism, “the lived experience of coping with a life of horrifying meaninglessness, hopelessness, and lovelessness. The frightening result is a numbing detachment from others and a self-destructive disposition toward the world. Life without meaning, hope, and love breeds a cold-hearted, mean-spirited outlook that destroys both the individual and other.” I wanted to find a way to track the effects of the word “nigga” on the life of the African American male and its ability to create for us a subconscious and outwardly manifested nihilistic destiny. That is when I realized I would also need to find away to weigh the effects this word has had on Urban Pop Culture, which is better known as youth culture. If image is indeed everything, then the challenges facing a generation of youth who have been raised with this word inhabiting daily residence within their sentence structure is two-fold.
Primarily, there must be a reintroduction to the vile historical connotations attached to this word and then an education of what the power base’s intentions are for a generation, which proudly identifies themselves as “niggaz.”
I mean if “nigga” is indeed just a word.
If it is true that the image, which is impressed upon you, is the image which one literally owes one’s life to, then what is the outcome when the image that is being sought is one of a “nigga”? I wondered about what historically had been the outcome for African American men and those family members closest to them who suffer because of the misogynistic repercussions attached to this word? Or what the cultural/family/economic implications could be for subsequent generations?
This particular topic presents numerous challenges due to the inflammatory nature of the word - Shit, I throw the word around like a beach ball myself.
I felt my only chance at capturing the true essence of the extremely convoluted emotions attached to this subject was through the medium of media. I interviewed twenty people with rural and urban roots because I figured the perception of the word could also have a lot to do with your own geographical orientations. I also only interviewed African Americans because I wanted to limit the discussion to those who live with the ramifications of the word on a daily basis, asking them seven questions with eight follow-up questions.
I began each interview asking them to share with me the first image that comes to mind when I said the word “nigger.” And I ended each interview asking their opinions on why other race groups do not use the derogatory epithet directed towards them as “terms of endearment” the way we do as African Americans.
The standard interview process lasted approximately 20 minutes in the beginning stages of the project but the conversations steadily began to grow because each person who participated left me with even more issues to bring to the table in subsequent interviews.
Each interview also provided opportunities for symbiotic learning to evolve between people trapped in the same prison; subtly separated by the issues produced by gender, time, and perspective.
It was quite evident that as African Americans we deal with an enormous amount of duality, openly conflicted about our “love/hate” relationship with this word. On some level I thought I was alone in this journey but as dialogue took place I learned I was certainly not the only one who felt the abysmal weight of this graphically profane dysfunction. We shared in our travails with what we proposed to be an outwardly endearing term, which intrinsically produced profoundly unspeakable violence to our inner essence. It was almost like recounting our shared experiences at the hands of a vile abuser.
Every time we tried to give context to the reasoning we had for allowing this word to live amongst us as African Americans, we would promptly and almost instinctively disqualify that particular line of reasoning.
Another interesting finding was how this word surfaced in our interaction with our European (White) brethren: the older the person, as history would dictate, the more violent the usage of the word. With the younger participants the murky and convoluted nature of the word was perpetually present in their interaction with people of European decent. Almost every inclusion of White people into Hip Hop culture produced awkward moments of misidentification on the sides of both parties, causing the “cool white-boy” to feel so comfortable that he would chose not to edit himself when reciting his favorite rap lyrics. Some reported even deeper levels of self-loathing by admitting the allowance of some white people the “honor” of saying the word “nigga” as well as inclusion on terminology, “that white-boy is my Nigga” or “ya’ll my Niggaz”, to present a few examples.
This point also uncovered another layer within our discussion, the inclusive effects of Hip Hop culture, and its easily accessible counterparts - misogyny, murder, and materialism. When we settle in to examine and exegete the content of Hip Hop Culture we are bombarded with images which emanate from the Black Experience.
“Pimp”, Player”, and “Hustler” are words which are rooted in the African American psyche as we attempt to identify ourselves. We search for markers, which symbolize our independence from supremacist thought process, while simultaneously presenting an image of edge and danger.
someone had to be judas
I think it is safe to say that most of us live in the abyss between the pseudo and the chaotic. We are continually vacillating between the two stages hoping to find a place beyond something … a place that is real, new, fresh, and alive.
Why is there so much disconnect? Can most of these failings be directly connected with and attributed to the lack of authenticity found within our church experience? Does this make it difficult to see oneself as a vital member of the body of Christ? Or are we simply asking too much from the community of faith? It’s been said, “church is the place where natural enemies gather. That, in essence, is what the Kingdom is.” I have also heard it said, “Grace is always manufactured from the outside but is God’s gift. It will always be external forces that push the church to be the church that God intends for it to be within His creative intention.”
Another question I found myself exploring, as a youth minister is why we were so “in-reach” focused. Not a week went by without my office being inundated with flyers, club cards, and other “ministry explosion” invitations. All of these events promised that the Spirit of God would be there and lives would be altered. Within this invitation there is little to no mention of their own local community, which they are called to serve. Instead these invitations often ask that we invite our community youth. Why has the expression of our faith reached entertaining proportions? Why have we identified what is pseudo as reality and identified reality as heresy? What are we so afraid of?
On the one hand it can be said that we lack the ability to dialogue with the world outside of our church walls. But it may actually be that we lack the very desire to even go outside. What are the effects of this mentality on our core mission? Do we still see ourselves as salt? Is it still part of our functionality to be a light on a hill? Or is that expectation not only lacking in cost efficiency but also woefully inefficient? It is my opinion that Sunday morning may be the largest, ongoing pseudo-event happening. Mercifully, God’s thoughts are so far above our own that life sometimes will simply force us to consider a wheat & tears theology (Matthew 13:24-30).
Another crazy question I started to ponder revolved around the inclusion of Judas into the Twelve. Was Judas’ inclusion into the circle of the apostles more for the community of the twelve? Asked another way, were there human elements deep inside of Judas, which could only come to the surface through the blessing of authentic relationships – which in turn would draw other human elements out of the other members within that circle?
Is Judas the ultimate “wheat & tears” example?
It seems we have, for years focused on the “spiritual” component of Judas’ selection. We understand that someone had to betray Jesus. But are we also able to see Judas as someone who had no desire to understand the principles of the Kingdom because he almost seemed to become disillusioned with Jesus and His Messianic pronouncements?
I think what we fail to highlight is Jesus’ inclusion of someone whom He knew was already disqualified and seemingly had nothing to offer. Could it be that Judas represented the possibility of someone who was regenerated while their mind still resided within the depths of Hell?
Failure of imagination is the loss of the ability to envision life any differently than the life already being lived and experienced by the person. Could Judas have suffered from a failure of imagination? Could this have been his main assault to the Kingdom? Was it his inability to imagine a life separate from what he already envisioned the Messiah to be that doomed him to be the one who would betray the Son of Man?
I wonder if this could another glimpse at some of the root causes behind our stagnated Evangelical youth movement. Are we ready, as a community of faith, to not only seek to convert souls but actively seek the conversion of the even more difficult to reach imagination? Are we willing and able to allow God to convert our imaginations? Can we imagine this Grace, which the Lord will bring from the outside, to be what will most definitely propels this conversion?
Although there are so many questions standing between where we are and our destination, one thing I do understand is that this does not happen in isolation. It can only take place within authentic community. This is indeed the very hard journey to finding a way of understanding and enjoying God through our family of humanity.
Why is there so much disconnect? Can most of these failings be directly connected with and attributed to the lack of authenticity found within our church experience? Does this make it difficult to see oneself as a vital member of the body of Christ? Or are we simply asking too much from the community of faith? It’s been said, “church is the place where natural enemies gather. That, in essence, is what the Kingdom is.” I have also heard it said, “Grace is always manufactured from the outside but is God’s gift. It will always be external forces that push the church to be the church that God intends for it to be within His creative intention.”
Another question I found myself exploring, as a youth minister is why we were so “in-reach” focused. Not a week went by without my office being inundated with flyers, club cards, and other “ministry explosion” invitations. All of these events promised that the Spirit of God would be there and lives would be altered. Within this invitation there is little to no mention of their own local community, which they are called to serve. Instead these invitations often ask that we invite our community youth. Why has the expression of our faith reached entertaining proportions? Why have we identified what is pseudo as reality and identified reality as heresy? What are we so afraid of?
On the one hand it can be said that we lack the ability to dialogue with the world outside of our church walls. But it may actually be that we lack the very desire to even go outside. What are the effects of this mentality on our core mission? Do we still see ourselves as salt? Is it still part of our functionality to be a light on a hill? Or is that expectation not only lacking in cost efficiency but also woefully inefficient? It is my opinion that Sunday morning may be the largest, ongoing pseudo-event happening. Mercifully, God’s thoughts are so far above our own that life sometimes will simply force us to consider a wheat & tears theology (Matthew 13:24-30).
Another crazy question I started to ponder revolved around the inclusion of Judas into the Twelve. Was Judas’ inclusion into the circle of the apostles more for the community of the twelve? Asked another way, were there human elements deep inside of Judas, which could only come to the surface through the blessing of authentic relationships – which in turn would draw other human elements out of the other members within that circle?
Is Judas the ultimate “wheat & tears” example?
It seems we have, for years focused on the “spiritual” component of Judas’ selection. We understand that someone had to betray Jesus. But are we also able to see Judas as someone who had no desire to understand the principles of the Kingdom because he almost seemed to become disillusioned with Jesus and His Messianic pronouncements?
I think what we fail to highlight is Jesus’ inclusion of someone whom He knew was already disqualified and seemingly had nothing to offer. Could it be that Judas represented the possibility of someone who was regenerated while their mind still resided within the depths of Hell?
Failure of imagination is the loss of the ability to envision life any differently than the life already being lived and experienced by the person. Could Judas have suffered from a failure of imagination? Could this have been his main assault to the Kingdom? Was it his inability to imagine a life separate from what he already envisioned the Messiah to be that doomed him to be the one who would betray the Son of Man?
I wonder if this could another glimpse at some of the root causes behind our stagnated Evangelical youth movement. Are we ready, as a community of faith, to not only seek to convert souls but actively seek the conversion of the even more difficult to reach imagination? Are we willing and able to allow God to convert our imaginations? Can we imagine this Grace, which the Lord will bring from the outside, to be what will most definitely propels this conversion?
Although there are so many questions standing between where we are and our destination, one thing I do understand is that this does not happen in isolation. It can only take place within authentic community. This is indeed the very hard journey to finding a way of understanding and enjoying God through our family of humanity.
Mar 9, 2008
opening statements
When faith crashes into culture there is that silent, sickening anticipation of the violent reaction to come from those who are watching this collision. This would correctly describe the experience I have just completed. I now have the long journey of making sense of what I have seen, heard, and felt during this intense time together. We began this journey from a place where everyone could come together in agreement. I believe that we agree that mission is more than a department in the church but as soon as we began down the road of what mission “is” we were plagued with conflict for the rest of the journey.
How could it be different things to different people if our Jesus is the same as their Jesus? If God is bigger than culture than how can culture affect what we see and why we see it? And the biggest question of them all; has the church, as an institution, co-opted people into a twisted theology of power? These questions are very hard questions to deal with. They are also questions that require a multi-layered approach. I understand there is a hesitancy to approach the issues in a multi-layered manner because of fear of what the end result will be to our “personal” relationship with God.
And yes, this is yet another shot at the oppressive thought process of Western Evangelicalism, but I also believe there is an inability of some sort to address such issues in a health manner that won’t send us off into tangents
The frustration and tension I felt during the intensive and in the time spent afterward was not with those who can’t see the multiplicity of the coded power theology language, but rather with those who defend the oppressive language of the institution because of fear; the fear of what is behind the veil of the wizard. The flipside of this journey is the calling of authentic community while still honestly differing in viewpoints. I must resist the inclination to either convert or walk away. Falling into that trap will make me an alternate reality version of the same institutional perversion that has created the tension I am now walking through. I so desperately want out of this matrix, knowing that the reality that awaits me is not Utopian, but grim and humiliating.
I willingly trade away any rights of passage into Power Theology for the painful, conflicting, and somewhat lonely journey of Street Theology (or what I like to call the Theology of the Oppressed) because I believe in a counter-culture, left of center, God of the oppressed more than I could ever believe in the four spiritual laws and ‘pray until something happens’ way of life.
How could it be different things to different people if our Jesus is the same as their Jesus? If God is bigger than culture than how can culture affect what we see and why we see it? And the biggest question of them all; has the church, as an institution, co-opted people into a twisted theology of power? These questions are very hard questions to deal with. They are also questions that require a multi-layered approach. I understand there is a hesitancy to approach the issues in a multi-layered manner because of fear of what the end result will be to our “personal” relationship with God.
And yes, this is yet another shot at the oppressive thought process of Western Evangelicalism, but I also believe there is an inability of some sort to address such issues in a health manner that won’t send us off into tangents
The frustration and tension I felt during the intensive and in the time spent afterward was not with those who can’t see the multiplicity of the coded power theology language, but rather with those who defend the oppressive language of the institution because of fear; the fear of what is behind the veil of the wizard. The flipside of this journey is the calling of authentic community while still honestly differing in viewpoints. I must resist the inclination to either convert or walk away. Falling into that trap will make me an alternate reality version of the same institutional perversion that has created the tension I am now walking through. I so desperately want out of this matrix, knowing that the reality that awaits me is not Utopian, but grim and humiliating.
I willingly trade away any rights of passage into Power Theology for the painful, conflicting, and somewhat lonely journey of Street Theology (or what I like to call the Theology of the Oppressed) because I believe in a counter-culture, left of center, God of the oppressed more than I could ever believe in the four spiritual laws and ‘pray until something happens’ way of life.
Mar 8, 2008
the human family paradox
The Human family is a paradox, for it is larger inside than out
G.K. Chesterton
I believe it is safe to say that the journey of humanity runs squarely through the township of family structure. There are many who have come before us and presented an image of the human journey that is “inward and upward.” During the course of our journal time together I will explore family themes, which lean more in the direction of “downward and outward”.
These two themes are held up in contrast and tension against one another because of their obvious diametrical nature. As I journey through the painful, shame filled and awkward pieces of my family system I have observed how those dynamics have empowered and dismembered me simultaneously.
What is it about the family system and its ability to be both life affirming and dream shattering? Why is it virtually impossible to find a family system that creates and recreates only the healthy elements? Is it because that system would then become the norm, spawning untold amounts of virtual replicas? The system usually does both at the same time, building us up and tearing us down with each breath. I wonder why this is. Are we doomed by the unfulfilled dreams of our generational predecessors? Is it the unrealistic expectations created by popular media culture? Or is it simply the sheer complexity of our human nature? Somehow, I believe it is the pure synthesis of all these, working against and within.
The very thought of the topic actually forces me to re-enter my own family systems. With age I have grown more comfortable with the journey of reflection but I think it really comes from simply submitting myself to the process more regularly. One of the joys of growing older - in a somewhat healthy manner - is being able to remember and almost relive the interwoven spoken and unspoken themes of ones family history with distance and perspective. My developmental journey is filled with dogmatic religious viewpoints and its violent clashes with the embryonic stages of my own world-view and desire to individuate.
My family history is one of grassroots community work. My parents both showcased their Christian beliefs by working with the people who were found on the underbelly of life. My father is a recently retired executive director of a prominent Christian drug and alcohol rehabilitation center, while my mother works with women who suffer in situations of domestic violence as well as other types of misogynistic abuse. The success of our family system is also seen in the career choices of my younger siblings who have chosen to be educated and work as musicians and artists in the area of social justice. It is safe to describe us as a family that feels compelled to work in areas of compassion ministry though I am the only sibling that professes Christianity as my faith foundation.
Though both of my siblings are committed to working and fighting for the equability of all people groups, this desire does not seem to stem from an overt Christian sensibility. They have been able to identify the obvious disconnect between what we as Christians proclaim as the core of our mission and the way in which we carry out that mission. This disconnect can also be traced to our upbringing. Though our parents practiced an enormous amount of incarnational methodology with those they served on a daily basis, we were not able to benefit from that belief system in the home. We instead were the recipients of their supremely dogmatic Pentecostal worldview and in retrospect were robbed of the genuine compassion they displayed to “those in need”. It is amazing for me to think back and recall two people who were so cutting edge outside the home and inflexibly old school inside it.
Another portion of the dogmatic mindset that dominated our home life was the unspoken law that “ministry” or “the Lord’s work” came first. Family gatherings of any sort were very rare because one of the parents was always scheduled to be “ministering” elsewhere in some capacity. Suffice to say this created a bit of resentment within our understanding of church ministry and God, though not necessarily towards the people who were the object our parent’s affection.
The most powerful and lasting influence on a young person’s life is the family of origin. No other system has a greater impact on the long-term development of their faith. The power of the family system increases rather than decreases with age .
When reviewing my family system, the above statement is probably the best explanation of how I have subconsciously and methodically reconstructed my present family system into a paradigm more to my liking. Just like my parents, I have worked within systems, which allowed me to directly impact the lives of families. And even though I have tried to run away from anything church related, I walked right into being a member of the clergy. My life seems to have taken a very familiar path.
So with all of the frustrating experiences this world has produced for us we have still decided to answer the call, maintaining that we have discerned The Spirit primarily active in the community and not chained inside the church building.
To that end, we have consciously attached the redemption of our family system to the simultaneous redemptive process within our own community. Meaning that we believe there is no way our family system can truly experience its complete redemption while those around us, living within the same community are left out to fend for themselves.
I often wonder about the drawbacks of this decision to journey towards communal redemption but I definitely have seen enough evidence to dissuade me from trying the traditional church method. We will simply take our chances.
G.K. Chesterton
I believe it is safe to say that the journey of humanity runs squarely through the township of family structure. There are many who have come before us and presented an image of the human journey that is “inward and upward.” During the course of our journal time together I will explore family themes, which lean more in the direction of “downward and outward”.
These two themes are held up in contrast and tension against one another because of their obvious diametrical nature. As I journey through the painful, shame filled and awkward pieces of my family system I have observed how those dynamics have empowered and dismembered me simultaneously.
What is it about the family system and its ability to be both life affirming and dream shattering? Why is it virtually impossible to find a family system that creates and recreates only the healthy elements? Is it because that system would then become the norm, spawning untold amounts of virtual replicas? The system usually does both at the same time, building us up and tearing us down with each breath. I wonder why this is. Are we doomed by the unfulfilled dreams of our generational predecessors? Is it the unrealistic expectations created by popular media culture? Or is it simply the sheer complexity of our human nature? Somehow, I believe it is the pure synthesis of all these, working against and within.
The very thought of the topic actually forces me to re-enter my own family systems. With age I have grown more comfortable with the journey of reflection but I think it really comes from simply submitting myself to the process more regularly. One of the joys of growing older - in a somewhat healthy manner - is being able to remember and almost relive the interwoven spoken and unspoken themes of ones family history with distance and perspective. My developmental journey is filled with dogmatic religious viewpoints and its violent clashes with the embryonic stages of my own world-view and desire to individuate.
My family history is one of grassroots community work. My parents both showcased their Christian beliefs by working with the people who were found on the underbelly of life. My father is a recently retired executive director of a prominent Christian drug and alcohol rehabilitation center, while my mother works with women who suffer in situations of domestic violence as well as other types of misogynistic abuse. The success of our family system is also seen in the career choices of my younger siblings who have chosen to be educated and work as musicians and artists in the area of social justice. It is safe to describe us as a family that feels compelled to work in areas of compassion ministry though I am the only sibling that professes Christianity as my faith foundation.
Though both of my siblings are committed to working and fighting for the equability of all people groups, this desire does not seem to stem from an overt Christian sensibility. They have been able to identify the obvious disconnect between what we as Christians proclaim as the core of our mission and the way in which we carry out that mission. This disconnect can also be traced to our upbringing. Though our parents practiced an enormous amount of incarnational methodology with those they served on a daily basis, we were not able to benefit from that belief system in the home. We instead were the recipients of their supremely dogmatic Pentecostal worldview and in retrospect were robbed of the genuine compassion they displayed to “those in need”. It is amazing for me to think back and recall two people who were so cutting edge outside the home and inflexibly old school inside it.
Another portion of the dogmatic mindset that dominated our home life was the unspoken law that “ministry” or “the Lord’s work” came first. Family gatherings of any sort were very rare because one of the parents was always scheduled to be “ministering” elsewhere in some capacity. Suffice to say this created a bit of resentment within our understanding of church ministry and God, though not necessarily towards the people who were the object our parent’s affection.
The most powerful and lasting influence on a young person’s life is the family of origin. No other system has a greater impact on the long-term development of their faith. The power of the family system increases rather than decreases with age .
When reviewing my family system, the above statement is probably the best explanation of how I have subconsciously and methodically reconstructed my present family system into a paradigm more to my liking. Just like my parents, I have worked within systems, which allowed me to directly impact the lives of families. And even though I have tried to run away from anything church related, I walked right into being a member of the clergy. My life seems to have taken a very familiar path.
So with all of the frustrating experiences this world has produced for us we have still decided to answer the call, maintaining that we have discerned The Spirit primarily active in the community and not chained inside the church building.
To that end, we have consciously attached the redemption of our family system to the simultaneous redemptive process within our own community. Meaning that we believe there is no way our family system can truly experience its complete redemption while those around us, living within the same community are left out to fend for themselves.
I often wonder about the drawbacks of this decision to journey towards communal redemption but I definitely have seen enough evidence to dissuade me from trying the traditional church method. We will simply take our chances.
Mar 7, 2008
today
They tried to kill me today; I mean I think that they think they’ve finally done it. I’m not part of this inner circle, not by blood at least; my family hit the ceiling at high-level line workers, actually it was my father. He never made those proper moves; you know that ones that secure your family’s future, those proper alliances with the proper power brokers. Nope, not my dad he always was just fine being small potatoes, just enough for his get high and he was good with the hustle. He didn’t sniff that shit anymore, it’s was the money and the women this trip around the pony track but a nigga still gotta have his get high. Besides he’s washed up now anyway, not much protection to me now - the inner circle put him to pasture about six or seven years ago he’s actually lucky it didn’t end for him right then. He’d gotten sloppy, caught up with his importance and no longer worth the risk - it was his being just close enough to the inner circle and the ability to generate revenue that’s saving his crazy ass to this day.
Even with his earning potential I was still alone and out of jurisdiction, his New York value had long since diminished, I was an easy target - out spoken, articulate, and instinctively honest. I had been spending time with my girl’s godfather but he’s part of the old guard and the new regime has no regard for what was, so his protection was more cosmetic than anything else - it simply brought me more time - time, which assured I’d survive what was coming. Fortunately for me everything was destroyed in the attempt so as of right now I’m untraceable but I know it won’t take long for them to figure out I’m still alive. I’m not looking back though, time will settle all accounts I have some other things to figure out right now and once those things are figured the rest will play. I know who carried out the task, I just don’t know how deep this betrayal extends I’ve identified the few allies remaining, what I haven’t been able do is figure all the enemies and I fear I’ve over looked a few. Truth be told its extremely difficult to know them all, even for those of us that are in by our outer regional blood. Most believe it’s mainly due to the introduction of self-ascension, in that environment there is no room for honest old-school allegiances.
Tomorrow I make contact with some that have already escaped the labyrinth, we will sit, drink coffee, and share memories - this will be the last time we see one another for a few seasons. It is also utterly important that none find them selves connected with me in any way; connection with me will expose them no matter where they choose to submerge. I however do not have this option of submersion, though I have escaped death it has occurred to me that remaining alive has rendered me an exile to all I knew and a nomad to all that awaits me. In the aftermath of the attempt I saw his face, a shadow of it actually and quickly I identified the hatred within his countenance. Malice and destruction had already taken residence within his heart replacing his professed dedication to all that was good. Death implored him to effectively terminate my essence because I detest the weakness of this realm under his tyrant-like scorching
One must always stay attuned for the next ...
I died today - tomorrow begins the life after.
Even with his earning potential I was still alone and out of jurisdiction, his New York value had long since diminished, I was an easy target - out spoken, articulate, and instinctively honest. I had been spending time with my girl’s godfather but he’s part of the old guard and the new regime has no regard for what was, so his protection was more cosmetic than anything else - it simply brought me more time - time, which assured I’d survive what was coming. Fortunately for me everything was destroyed in the attempt so as of right now I’m untraceable but I know it won’t take long for them to figure out I’m still alive. I’m not looking back though, time will settle all accounts I have some other things to figure out right now and once those things are figured the rest will play. I know who carried out the task, I just don’t know how deep this betrayal extends I’ve identified the few allies remaining, what I haven’t been able do is figure all the enemies and I fear I’ve over looked a few. Truth be told its extremely difficult to know them all, even for those of us that are in by our outer regional blood. Most believe it’s mainly due to the introduction of self-ascension, in that environment there is no room for honest old-school allegiances.
Tomorrow I make contact with some that have already escaped the labyrinth, we will sit, drink coffee, and share memories - this will be the last time we see one another for a few seasons. It is also utterly important that none find them selves connected with me in any way; connection with me will expose them no matter where they choose to submerge. I however do not have this option of submersion, though I have escaped death it has occurred to me that remaining alive has rendered me an exile to all I knew and a nomad to all that awaits me. In the aftermath of the attempt I saw his face, a shadow of it actually and quickly I identified the hatred within his countenance. Malice and destruction had already taken residence within his heart replacing his professed dedication to all that was good. Death implored him to effectively terminate my essence because I detest the weakness of this realm under his tyrant-like scorching
One must always stay attuned for the next ...
I died today - tomorrow begins the life after.
reclaiming youth at risk - a book review
The tension that exists between those who practice theory and those who spout theory is a visible tension that is felt every time the two parties interact. The dilemma in the eyes of the writers of “Reclaiming Youth at Risk” is that those who research and write do not understand practice, while those who are gifted practitioners feel they rarely have the time to write. The combination of ever evolving theory birthing from the trenches of practice is rare but this is what the book attempts to merge.
The material offered endeavors to present the growing interest in building theories from successful practice rather than forcing semi highly esteemed theory into practice. Their ideas spring forth from two fountains of thought; “The Seeds of Discouragement” vs “The Circle of Courage.” The presentation seems off center at first because it is the integration of Native-American philosophies and western psychology but maybe it is the thought process of practicing each from different ends of the spectrum that presents them as strange bedfellows.
The writers break their theory into three sections; the alienation of children in modern society, the holistic approach of Native American child development, and a list of principles and strategies that can help in the creation of a reclaiming environment. The result is a book that shows you what child development should look like, why it should look that way, and how to get there - without reading at all like a “how-to” book.
As I interacted with this book I couldn’t help but feel like I was reading about everything that is wrong with church youth ministry. I fear that every “Purpose Driven” youth ministry might be unsuspectingly planting the “seeds of discouragement.” This is a very bold statement, I know. But if writing is not a place to challenge the status quo, then I fear l might never have an outlet for my observations. With that disclaimer out of the way, let me explain my thought process.
The culture of church youth ministry is breeding ground of destructive relationships, climates of futility, learned irresponsibility, and the loss of purpose. Youth group is an exclusive world that only allows those, which look, sound, and perpetuate the part. This exclusivity is fertile ground for relationships that can destroy adolescents who are living to find a place where they fit in, at their very core. This “purpose” which “drives” most Evangelical youth ministries is one that spits out offspring that will “carry on the vision” without honestly working with the youth to produce a vision or a purpose for themselves. The two major themes that prove worthy of effort from this book are Belonging and Generosity.
I wonder what ministry would look like if we focused on helping young people to know that they belong to the Kingdom of Heaven. If we could transmit to them that if there is any place that the misfit fits in is the Kingdom. If there was ever a home for the people who just can’t seem to get their act together, people who have failed to say the right thing, come from the incorrect part of town, attended the incorrect school, or make the incorrect amount of money per year. People who have a past, feel as if they have no future, or are just trying to make it through the present – those are the people that the Kingdom of Heaven was made for. That sense of belonging all by itself would lead all its inhabitants to an altruism way broader than the desperation that once residenced. The focus would lean less to outreach and more to development because everyone would already be considered “in”.
Some might say that my thought process is utopian in its approach but if so called “savages” within the Native American culture can commit themselves to communal and holistic development of their offspring, then just maybe we can work here as a local body to unlearn some of our programs of alienation in favor of Belonging, Mastery, Independence, and Generosity.
This all sounds very much like our principles of discipleship , (selection, association, demonstration, and reproduction) that can be found in books like Colemen's "Master Plan of Evengelism" ... just healthier.
The material offered endeavors to present the growing interest in building theories from successful practice rather than forcing semi highly esteemed theory into practice. Their ideas spring forth from two fountains of thought; “The Seeds of Discouragement” vs “The Circle of Courage.” The presentation seems off center at first because it is the integration of Native-American philosophies and western psychology but maybe it is the thought process of practicing each from different ends of the spectrum that presents them as strange bedfellows.
The writers break their theory into three sections; the alienation of children in modern society, the holistic approach of Native American child development, and a list of principles and strategies that can help in the creation of a reclaiming environment. The result is a book that shows you what child development should look like, why it should look that way, and how to get there - without reading at all like a “how-to” book.
As I interacted with this book I couldn’t help but feel like I was reading about everything that is wrong with church youth ministry. I fear that every “Purpose Driven” youth ministry might be unsuspectingly planting the “seeds of discouragement.” This is a very bold statement, I know. But if writing is not a place to challenge the status quo, then I fear l might never have an outlet for my observations. With that disclaimer out of the way, let me explain my thought process.
The culture of church youth ministry is breeding ground of destructive relationships, climates of futility, learned irresponsibility, and the loss of purpose. Youth group is an exclusive world that only allows those, which look, sound, and perpetuate the part. This exclusivity is fertile ground for relationships that can destroy adolescents who are living to find a place where they fit in, at their very core. This “purpose” which “drives” most Evangelical youth ministries is one that spits out offspring that will “carry on the vision” without honestly working with the youth to produce a vision or a purpose for themselves. The two major themes that prove worthy of effort from this book are Belonging and Generosity.
I wonder what ministry would look like if we focused on helping young people to know that they belong to the Kingdom of Heaven. If we could transmit to them that if there is any place that the misfit fits in is the Kingdom. If there was ever a home for the people who just can’t seem to get their act together, people who have failed to say the right thing, come from the incorrect part of town, attended the incorrect school, or make the incorrect amount of money per year. People who have a past, feel as if they have no future, or are just trying to make it through the present – those are the people that the Kingdom of Heaven was made for. That sense of belonging all by itself would lead all its inhabitants to an altruism way broader than the desperation that once residenced. The focus would lean less to outreach and more to development because everyone would already be considered “in”.
Some might say that my thought process is utopian in its approach but if so called “savages” within the Native American culture can commit themselves to communal and holistic development of their offspring, then just maybe we can work here as a local body to unlearn some of our programs of alienation in favor of Belonging, Mastery, Independence, and Generosity.
This all sounds very much like our principles of discipleship , (selection, association, demonstration, and reproduction) that can be found in books like Colemen's "Master Plan of Evengelism" ... just healthier.
Mar 6, 2008
Mahogany Blue
One of the crucial element of survival for the African slave was the ability to sing, the irony of that survival is that this also became a major component in the minstrelization of our culture. The land of their captivity taunted them with thoughts of songs that were sang in the homeland, songs that represented celebration, songs that elicited memories of a life they would never live again; its not just the simple issue of displacement from their home land because even if they could return back home that very day, the painful stain of slavery would never dissipate.
The secondary issue is one of cultural mockery; their pain, degradation, and displacement are now a source of entertainment for their captors. This is a phenomenon that has psychological ramifications that will not be realized for generations to come but it quite plainly sets the stage for a culture that can no longer experience itself without the defining parameters of their oppressor’s objectification. This train of thought explodes when layered over the African American expression. Much like the Hebrew slave, the African salve began to only experience themselves through the eyes of their captors thus every element of their personal and cultural experience came under the lens of the oppressor.
The secondary issue is one of cultural mockery; their pain, degradation, and displacement are now a source of entertainment for their captors. This is a phenomenon that has psychological ramifications that will not be realized for generations to come but it quite plainly sets the stage for a culture that can no longer experience itself without the defining parameters of their oppressor’s objectification. This train of thought explodes when layered over the African American expression. Much like the Hebrew slave, the African salve began to only experience themselves through the eyes of their captors thus every element of their personal and cultural experience came under the lens of the oppressor.
Mar 5, 2008
Whatever happened to lamentations?
“Christianity has always insisted that the cross we bear precedes the crown we wear. To be a Christian one must take up his cross, with all its difficulties and agonizing tension-packed content and carry it until that very cross leaves its mark upon us and redeems us to that more excellent way which comes only through suffering” – MLK Bearing The Cross
These words spoken by Dr. King have the ring of unmistakable truth and perspective to them that could only be born out of an understanding of personal and communal suffering. As our group explored the sheer scandal of The Cross we saw how The Cross was not only a scandal but it scandalizes. It seems vibrantly clear that God intentionally organized scandal into His family line because of their serious intentions concerning the incarnation (Jesus coming down to earth).
* Jesus was Asian-born, identifying with more than 1/3 of the world’s population, He also came from a mixed racial heritage.
* His birth was shameful bringing Him into direct connection with the 79% of teenage unwed mothers in the U.S. and the 1,000,000 teenage girls who become pregnant annually.
* After He was born He instantly became a political refugee, easily connecting Him with the 50 million people worldwide who have had to flee their homes over the last 10 years due to political unrest.
* His immigrant status links Him with the 8.7 million undocumented immigrants living in the U.S.
* His living in poverty connects Him with the 1,745,663 children in the U.S. that live on less than $6,645 a year
* By 2020 over 60% of the worlds population will be urban, young, and poor-Jesus grew up in the same surrounding conditions
* Jesus said, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nest, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” 3 million men, women, and children were homeless in the U.S. over the last year alone
* He was an outlaw – 25% of young African American males are incarcerated or on parole
* He was despised and rejected – Bias against race, religion, and sexual identities are the leading motivations for hate crimes in the U.S.
* He was an innocent victim – Every 11 minutes a child is reported abused or neglected in the U.S., that amounts to nearly 3 million
* Forsaken by His Father – Of the 72 million young people in the U.S., almost 25% live without their father and 50% of the 11.4 million young black people live without their father
* He was murdered – Black males 14-24 make up 1% of the U.S. population but 30% of all homicides
* He had to endure The Cross, which is the greatest scandal of all
“The first condition of healing is to bring the pain and suffering into view” – Kathleen M. O’Conner-Lamentations and Tears of the World
What do we do with a church systems that seems to have the complete hiding of pain and suffering as its number one agenda item? As a New Yorker there are certain sufferings I have become blind to seeing because of the lack of representation in my every day view of sight. An example of that type of silent suffering is the homeless, when Giuliani was in office he did such a “good” job with the homeless that you actually forgot about them because you hardly ever saw them. Since I did not see them I was extremely under aware of their pain and suffering, the same-out-of-sight-out-of-mind experience seems to be taking place within the church. We preach a Gospel of “upward mobility” with very little focus on the process and the actions that would help families and communities move toward a fullness of life with dignity, justice, peace, and hope.
What are we afraid of? Does the fear of actually being stripped of the 12-step approach to Christian vitality motivate this hiding of pain and suffering? It seems that we see Christ as the Holy conjurer and our actions and behaviors are the keys, which activate His acts of benevolence. If one of our fellow sojourners is lacking in the blessing department we can quickly subscribe a modification to their behavioral practices in hopes to appease the great giver of stuff. Somehow Christians interact with their loving creator as if He were god of mythological inclinations. I wonder what happened to our theology of suffering? That is a particularly messy branch of thought because we are continually at a lost to explain the sufferings of life; this is compounded by our utter lack of availability in the area of presence. Could our blind reliance on Divine healing be attributed to debilitating fear we have when forced to gaze upon pain and suffering?
Our desire to reduce the gospel in order to control it is alarmingly manifested as serpent theology when superimposed in the lives of those who suffer. Serpent Theology is a perversion, it happens when those who are powerless have already adopted and internalized the mindset of those in power. So those who suffer have internalized the belief that they are most certainly not more than conquers because their life circumstances dictate that they remain nameless, faceless, and doomed to suffer outside the gate. According to Hebrews 13 this puts them right next to the suffering savior but our rush to resurrect Him robs Him of the dignity accorded to His pain. It is our blind allegiance to the Easter experience which devalues the Garden experience, the beatings He suffered, the Via de la Rosa, and the cross itself. Why do we rob The Cross of its subversive power?
“Art does not answer the impossible theological questions. When thought and reason come to an end in the face of unthinkable evil or unbearable personal loss, art provides us with the means to invent or organize, to create a place of being where we are helped to endure the question: Where is God?
Amy Bryan – Contemporary Artist
When pain is fully exposed that is when it has the best opportunity to be healed, we believe that for our counseling sessions but not as a major component of our daily walk. Do we view pain and suffering as a distracting selling point to those we are trying to lure into a fulfilling tithing experience? I know prosperity seems like a logical selling point for those lost in what we perceive to be despair but maybe all they are really looking for is authenticity and presence. These two things were in abundance within the first century church because of the power of the Holy Spirit. This power was manifested in the fully when they attended to the Greek widows in Acts 6, their suffering was not overlooked, they were not further marginalized by the community which was suppose to simply see them.
How many suffering people have we done violence to by simply overlooking them and thereby stripping them of their dignity? Have we disallowed the gift of lamentations? All laments have in common the direct address to God, a list of complaints, words from the speaker that are reassuring to them, words of motivation for God to act, and a petition for Justice. Have we done violence to the poets as they lament their tragedy because of the uncomfortably their pain brings us?
These words spoken by Dr. King have the ring of unmistakable truth and perspective to them that could only be born out of an understanding of personal and communal suffering. As our group explored the sheer scandal of The Cross we saw how The Cross was not only a scandal but it scandalizes. It seems vibrantly clear that God intentionally organized scandal into His family line because of their serious intentions concerning the incarnation (Jesus coming down to earth).
* Jesus was Asian-born, identifying with more than 1/3 of the world’s population, He also came from a mixed racial heritage.
* His birth was shameful bringing Him into direct connection with the 79% of teenage unwed mothers in the U.S. and the 1,000,000 teenage girls who become pregnant annually.
* After He was born He instantly became a political refugee, easily connecting Him with the 50 million people worldwide who have had to flee their homes over the last 10 years due to political unrest.
* His immigrant status links Him with the 8.7 million undocumented immigrants living in the U.S.
* His living in poverty connects Him with the 1,745,663 children in the U.S. that live on less than $6,645 a year
* By 2020 over 60% of the worlds population will be urban, young, and poor-Jesus grew up in the same surrounding conditions
* Jesus said, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nest, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” 3 million men, women, and children were homeless in the U.S. over the last year alone
* He was an outlaw – 25% of young African American males are incarcerated or on parole
* He was despised and rejected – Bias against race, religion, and sexual identities are the leading motivations for hate crimes in the U.S.
* He was an innocent victim – Every 11 minutes a child is reported abused or neglected in the U.S., that amounts to nearly 3 million
* Forsaken by His Father – Of the 72 million young people in the U.S., almost 25% live without their father and 50% of the 11.4 million young black people live without their father
* He was murdered – Black males 14-24 make up 1% of the U.S. population but 30% of all homicides
* He had to endure The Cross, which is the greatest scandal of all
“The first condition of healing is to bring the pain and suffering into view” – Kathleen M. O’Conner-Lamentations and Tears of the World
What do we do with a church systems that seems to have the complete hiding of pain and suffering as its number one agenda item? As a New Yorker there are certain sufferings I have become blind to seeing because of the lack of representation in my every day view of sight. An example of that type of silent suffering is the homeless, when Giuliani was in office he did such a “good” job with the homeless that you actually forgot about them because you hardly ever saw them. Since I did not see them I was extremely under aware of their pain and suffering, the same-out-of-sight-out-of-mind experience seems to be taking place within the church. We preach a Gospel of “upward mobility” with very little focus on the process and the actions that would help families and communities move toward a fullness of life with dignity, justice, peace, and hope.
What are we afraid of? Does the fear of actually being stripped of the 12-step approach to Christian vitality motivate this hiding of pain and suffering? It seems that we see Christ as the Holy conjurer and our actions and behaviors are the keys, which activate His acts of benevolence. If one of our fellow sojourners is lacking in the blessing department we can quickly subscribe a modification to their behavioral practices in hopes to appease the great giver of stuff. Somehow Christians interact with their loving creator as if He were god of mythological inclinations. I wonder what happened to our theology of suffering? That is a particularly messy branch of thought because we are continually at a lost to explain the sufferings of life; this is compounded by our utter lack of availability in the area of presence. Could our blind reliance on Divine healing be attributed to debilitating fear we have when forced to gaze upon pain and suffering?
Our desire to reduce the gospel in order to control it is alarmingly manifested as serpent theology when superimposed in the lives of those who suffer. Serpent Theology is a perversion, it happens when those who are powerless have already adopted and internalized the mindset of those in power. So those who suffer have internalized the belief that they are most certainly not more than conquers because their life circumstances dictate that they remain nameless, faceless, and doomed to suffer outside the gate. According to Hebrews 13 this puts them right next to the suffering savior but our rush to resurrect Him robs Him of the dignity accorded to His pain. It is our blind allegiance to the Easter experience which devalues the Garden experience, the beatings He suffered, the Via de la Rosa, and the cross itself. Why do we rob The Cross of its subversive power?
“Art does not answer the impossible theological questions. When thought and reason come to an end in the face of unthinkable evil or unbearable personal loss, art provides us with the means to invent or organize, to create a place of being where we are helped to endure the question: Where is God?
Amy Bryan – Contemporary Artist
When pain is fully exposed that is when it has the best opportunity to be healed, we believe that for our counseling sessions but not as a major component of our daily walk. Do we view pain and suffering as a distracting selling point to those we are trying to lure into a fulfilling tithing experience? I know prosperity seems like a logical selling point for those lost in what we perceive to be despair but maybe all they are really looking for is authenticity and presence. These two things were in abundance within the first century church because of the power of the Holy Spirit. This power was manifested in the fully when they attended to the Greek widows in Acts 6, their suffering was not overlooked, they were not further marginalized by the community which was suppose to simply see them.
How many suffering people have we done violence to by simply overlooking them and thereby stripping them of their dignity? Have we disallowed the gift of lamentations? All laments have in common the direct address to God, a list of complaints, words from the speaker that are reassuring to them, words of motivation for God to act, and a petition for Justice. Have we done violence to the poets as they lament their tragedy because of the uncomfortably their pain brings us?
Mar 4, 2008
Twenty4 k all day part 1
I am the proud father of two boys.
Justin, the oldest is eight years old and his little brother Kaleb is five months. I love my both of my boys but I have come to a conclusion – Kaleb has furthered this conclusion along and I must give credit where credit is due. And that conclusion is that K is an infant and as an infant he needs infant attention, I on the other hand am a writer and am always trying to find time to set these swirling ideas that are in my head to paper.
But, therein lies the rub. K and I have different agendas.
Please don’t misunderstand us; we both understand what the other needs. Additionally, we understand just how important that need is. And because of this knowledge we both know we don’t have it within ourselves to give the other what he needs in its fullness. K is gonna want to chew on things, yell, cry, take shits, throw up, etc and believe me I feel he has every right to experience and enjoy each of those actions separately as well as simultaneously. But all of these wonderful actions would probably be better appreciated under the watchful eye of a childcare professional, which I am not. A dad? Yes, and a damn good one I might add but K and I have a few things working against us.
The first obstacle is our age; well better stated it’s my age that’s the real problem. I was twenty-seven when Jus was born and I stayed home with him until he was ten months, I know for a fact I had way more energy at twenty-seven then I do right now at thirty-six. I also had a better travel situation with Jus – though I lived in Queens I did have my Maclaren a lot earlier in the game and that provided Jus and I with the mobility to search and explore the city.
Now I can’t really argue the weather aspect because both of the boys were born in September but I can argue the age perspective I mentioned earlier – if I am completely honest with myself, its not really an age thing as much as it is a place in life thing. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself, back to K … Now Kaleb is in need of constant attention because of his newness to this world, he needs someone who will make sure the day is orchestrated concerning him. Now the writer living within me has taken the position of lobbyist to remind me that one needs time and space to create and the chances of time and space with an infant under your charge might be asking for too much.
But that's when the father in me steps up rather slowly and purposefully to state his case, he reminds me that these Kaleb moments only happen as they happen and when they are gone I will be left with only nostalgic melancholy as I wish I could bring them back. This, the father in me reminded those in attendance was an actual fact of parenthood. My mind was instantly filled with a rush of memories – pushing Jus on the swing at the park, taking naps (a personal favorite), watching Blue’s Clues, Dora, The Wiggles, Sesame Street, and a whole host of other shows I still know the theme songs to if spotted a bar or two.
The joy of a stare so deep into your child’s eye that you swear you saw each other’s souls, even if just for a second … shit nah, I wasn’t going to pass that up!
He had me; his argument was so eloquent, so focused on the aspect of time within the dance that is childhood and parenthood. And most importantly he was right.
Justin was raised on the theory of all the things I thought a child would need … simple shit. Like, a kid needs to spend time with his father. Throughout our eight-year relationship Justin and I have played video games, put puzzles together, watched certain movies hundreds of times over, played catch, wrestled, had light-saber battles (which, he cheats at I must add), and many more seemingly bland activities. I think I would have thrown out good coin for any of these bland activities with my dad when I was growing up but I grew up in a different era; my father worked hard, he worked long hours, and he basically belonged to the people of the world in which he felt called.
Simply reflecting on my childhood gave me a pretty basic plan of how I wanted to approach parenthood during my late-twenties. By the time Justin was ten months old I was preparing to return to work but I knew those months we spent together would provide me the closeness as he grew. My theories are simple, the more time I spend with my boys the better but this time with K began to challenge those thoughts – I began to feel the pull of professional advancement combined with a twist of personal redemption and started to lose focus.
Justin, the oldest is eight years old and his little brother Kaleb is five months. I love my both of my boys but I have come to a conclusion – Kaleb has furthered this conclusion along and I must give credit where credit is due. And that conclusion is that K is an infant and as an infant he needs infant attention, I on the other hand am a writer and am always trying to find time to set these swirling ideas that are in my head to paper.
But, therein lies the rub. K and I have different agendas.
Please don’t misunderstand us; we both understand what the other needs. Additionally, we understand just how important that need is. And because of this knowledge we both know we don’t have it within ourselves to give the other what he needs in its fullness. K is gonna want to chew on things, yell, cry, take shits, throw up, etc and believe me I feel he has every right to experience and enjoy each of those actions separately as well as simultaneously. But all of these wonderful actions would probably be better appreciated under the watchful eye of a childcare professional, which I am not. A dad? Yes, and a damn good one I might add but K and I have a few things working against us.
The first obstacle is our age; well better stated it’s my age that’s the real problem. I was twenty-seven when Jus was born and I stayed home with him until he was ten months, I know for a fact I had way more energy at twenty-seven then I do right now at thirty-six. I also had a better travel situation with Jus – though I lived in Queens I did have my Maclaren a lot earlier in the game and that provided Jus and I with the mobility to search and explore the city.
Now I can’t really argue the weather aspect because both of the boys were born in September but I can argue the age perspective I mentioned earlier – if I am completely honest with myself, its not really an age thing as much as it is a place in life thing. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself, back to K … Now Kaleb is in need of constant attention because of his newness to this world, he needs someone who will make sure the day is orchestrated concerning him. Now the writer living within me has taken the position of lobbyist to remind me that one needs time and space to create and the chances of time and space with an infant under your charge might be asking for too much.
But that's when the father in me steps up rather slowly and purposefully to state his case, he reminds me that these Kaleb moments only happen as they happen and when they are gone I will be left with only nostalgic melancholy as I wish I could bring them back. This, the father in me reminded those in attendance was an actual fact of parenthood. My mind was instantly filled with a rush of memories – pushing Jus on the swing at the park, taking naps (a personal favorite), watching Blue’s Clues, Dora, The Wiggles, Sesame Street, and a whole host of other shows I still know the theme songs to if spotted a bar or two.
The joy of a stare so deep into your child’s eye that you swear you saw each other’s souls, even if just for a second … shit nah, I wasn’t going to pass that up!
He had me; his argument was so eloquent, so focused on the aspect of time within the dance that is childhood and parenthood. And most importantly he was right.
Justin was raised on the theory of all the things I thought a child would need … simple shit. Like, a kid needs to spend time with his father. Throughout our eight-year relationship Justin and I have played video games, put puzzles together, watched certain movies hundreds of times over, played catch, wrestled, had light-saber battles (which, he cheats at I must add), and many more seemingly bland activities. I think I would have thrown out good coin for any of these bland activities with my dad when I was growing up but I grew up in a different era; my father worked hard, he worked long hours, and he basically belonged to the people of the world in which he felt called.
Simply reflecting on my childhood gave me a pretty basic plan of how I wanted to approach parenthood during my late-twenties. By the time Justin was ten months old I was preparing to return to work but I knew those months we spent together would provide me the closeness as he grew. My theories are simple, the more time I spend with my boys the better but this time with K began to challenge those thoughts – I began to feel the pull of professional advancement combined with a twist of personal redemption and started to lose focus.
Mar 3, 2008
random thoughts ...
I remember most of the details from that evening, not every specific detail but the important ones. I’m pretty sure it was a summer night because I would have remembered it being cold, or snow, or some other dramatic shit like that; plus I’m sure I was outside the house in summer gear.
What I do remember is the flash of uninhibited and unchecked anger – the rush of power that came along with it as well as the evil satisfaction of finally telling him that he would pay. That one day he would need me, he would want me to pay attention to him, he would need the shine from the sun within my universe in order to deflect his deep freeze but we were both too blind – a direct result from our tag team eye gouging competition - to find away to avoid that destiny.
I’m sure the neighbors must have heard each and every word of my deranged rant – promising everything my bitter, hurt, and damaged emotions could utter; ranging from colorful and descriptive oaths to personally usher in his heinous and in my demented eyes, most triumphant murder. To simply promising that my goons will throw his fucking miserable ass a beating.
What I do remember is the flash of uninhibited and unchecked anger – the rush of power that came along with it as well as the evil satisfaction of finally telling him that he would pay. That one day he would need me, he would want me to pay attention to him, he would need the shine from the sun within my universe in order to deflect his deep freeze but we were both too blind – a direct result from our tag team eye gouging competition - to find away to avoid that destiny.
I’m sure the neighbors must have heard each and every word of my deranged rant – promising everything my bitter, hurt, and damaged emotions could utter; ranging from colorful and descriptive oaths to personally usher in his heinous and in my demented eyes, most triumphant murder. To simply promising that my goons will throw his fucking miserable ass a beating.
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