Consciousness

The subtitle of all my blogs is real talk from real people with real problems. I wonder sometimes whether all my readers really know what that means. Back in the mid to late 1980's there was a consciousness movement going around, a consciousness movement that was quickly co-opted by society for monetary gain. It began when rappers began producing music that spoke of our cultural heritage as African folk. You remember, it was the KRS Ones, Arrested Development, Native Tongues, Queen Latifah (before she started making G rated comedies and CoverGirl ads), Paris Jackson, Digital Underground (featuring this new youngster named Tupac before someone convinced him that being an asshole was more lucrative than being conscious), Tribe Called Quest and X-Clan. I'll post some of their music on my page one day (short for when I figure out how).

These groups had one thing in common, they believed that the time had came for us to raise our voices and serve notice that we are not just passengers on this train ride to nowhere that America seems to be going. The wanted everyone to know that we had thoughts, deep, reflective thought that “others” needed to hear. For decades we had been an afterthought in America with only a handful of representatives in the mainstream of society. Remember when not too long ago, the richest of us were athletes and R&B singers? That was a time when we had no Senators in Congress, a few Representatives but they were relegated to the “Congressional Black Caucus” that couldn't pass gas without an act of Congress. Yeah, they named a few post offices, even named a few streets in honor of prominent black preachers, but for the most part did not and still do not represent us. Anyone who disagrees, list the major initiatives that have benefited us as a whole not just the relative few in their constituency.

I, however, digress. As you can see I have problems with our political structure. Back to the point, We as Afrikans (spelled with a “k” to differentiate us from our cousins from the continent) in this country seemed to be looking around and noticing for the first time that the world was passing us by. That we were spectators watching the game instead of playing in the game. What then happened was nothing less than tragic. Slowly, insidiously, we began being more concerned about the fashion statement made by wearing a medallion shaped like Africa than what was actually happening in Africa. Suddenly there were Dashikis and Kufi hats for sale on every street corner. Rap degenerated into boast contests about who had the biggest car, the most gold and the most bullets in their gun. Our Queens became My Bitches. Hard work and sharing among us became puttin in work. Education became soft and credibility became linked to tattoos and “bids.” (going to prison)

Let me digress again. To all you children out there who idolize the Lil Waynes, Jeezies, T.I.'s and Jim Jones of the rap world. Real drug dealers don't get record deals. Who approaches you on the corner serving and tells you “I wanna make you a star?” Real drug dealers don't wear makeup and shoot videos. The only videos that exist of real drug dealers are in the hands of the Feds and believe me when you see it, it will be in an interrogation room before you're charged under the RICO act and sent away for a good portion of your life. If you don't believe me, ask an uncle or cousin, maybe even Mommy and Daddy what prison is like cause we are all related to someone who knows. Ask them if they had it to do all over again would they sacrifice a decade or two for a few dollars. Prison doesn't make you hard, it just makes you old.
That is the new consciousness, we are conscious of our immediate surroundings, many times of only what happens on our block. We cry and moan about the level of violence in our community, about the pervasiveness of poverty around us but we refuse to take the steps to change it. We look for outsiders to change it for us. The common remedy for our situation is to send in the troops and lock more of us up, or give us more food stamps or TANF. That is what we vote for. That is the solution for the fools that we send to Washington. Ask yourself, would you invite someone from across town into your home to resolve a dispute with your spouse or child? Then why do we ask someone in Washington to solve our problems in the community? Its the same thing. You want the violence to stop, then stop it. You want to rise out of abject poverty, then invest your money in your community. You want to stop giving your money to the vultures that inhabit our communities, then instead of buying rims or plasmas, pool your resources and YOU own the minimarts and gas stations. Don't believe it can't be done because the Arabs, Pakistanis and Indians (from India) that do own the stores did it and they came here poor too.

In other words, our consciousness has to change. We have to stop looking at ourselves as being powerless as opposed to being powerful. We have to begin to command respect as opposed to demanding respect. We're not respected because we don't have a rudder, we just drift from one latest thing to another. Our desire to separate ourselves and define ourselves as a people are misdirected into hairstyles, modes of dress, manners of speaking and conspicuous consumption. That MUST change, and until it does we will remain the led not the leaders.