Friday, September 6, 2013
My RED LINES in the Sand.
There has been a lot of talk about "Red lines in the sand,' "Deal-breakers," "Game-Changers" and other "Oh no, he didn't!" moments in Washington, D.C. this week. It got me thinking about things that give me pause in a relationship. The things that push me toward a "defining moment" where I consider employing a "nuclear option.' (I think we have had enough quotes by now. Agreed?).
Full disclosure: I am not in a romantic relationship (I am, however, taking referrals - LOL!) and I don't purport to be a relationship expert. I do recognize that all human interaction involves relationships. Everything you do that involves somebody else, however remote, is accomplished through a relationship.
With that being said, here are my "strikes" (I couldn't resist another quote/metaphor).
1. Selfishness. Habitual and hapless selfishness is a deal-breaker in any healthy relationship. I know it's popular to talk about self-esteem and self-love and that's cool. But they are prerequisites to be in a healthy relationship. Afterward, service is the watchword. Focusing on yourself, and not the other, can be a non-starter, if not a deal-breaker.
2. Recklessness. We have all had our moments of willful abandon where we have thrown caution to the wind. That can be fun....in small doses. But a demonstrated pattern of bad decisions and disregard can indicate a level of irresponsibility. It's rare that relationships survive that type of instability.
3. Shortsightedness. And no, I'm not talking about the kind near-sighted vision that eye-glasses fix. I'm talking about a vision for your life. An idea of where you want to go. A direction, if not a map. To wander about aimlessly is a waste of time, resources,talent, and most importantly, purpose.
Life is hard. But it is foolhardy to make it harder by neglecting your impact on others. We would do well to avoid crossing these lines in the sand. And perhaps we can find a way to get along better with the people walking along life's path with us. It makes the trip a lot easier.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Why I Marched
Saturday, I participated in the 50th Commemorative Anniversary of March on Washington. Friday, I wasn't sure I would go. And, Thursday, I was leaning heavily toward "Ugh, I seriously doubt it."
Quite frankly, I didn't see the utility of marching. I didn't want to hit the streets to tell America that things suck for Black folk. Most of us know that our melanin comes infused with a social challenge. I didn't want to sing and chat. We've been doing that since we got here. I didn't want to be involved in a collective, mainly emotional, display. Emotions are fleeting and rarely useful as a political strategy. And, finally,haven't we been marching long enough?
No.
The way democracy works is that it responds to the voice of the people. And marching, chatting, singing, and shouting quite literally gives voice to our discontent. Things are not "alright" in America and we are still in pursuit of a more perfect union. I think we are headed in the right direction but we still have a ways to go.
Without the force of the masses behind them, our political leaders are rendered powerless and hollow. But that's the "thing" isn't it? A march has to be tied to a message not simply a means to an end. A march is a tactic that should be part of a larger strategy. Not the strategy itself.
So, after much singing, chatting, picture-taking, and yes, marching, I am challenging myself and my friends to stay the course. To keep demanding a fuller measure of justice. To keep calling for more economic opportunity. To keep to remembering how far we've come. And, yes, to keep marching, because we have so very far to go.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Men of a Certain Age: An Ode to My Brother-Brother on his Birthday.
Today should be a national holiday. It should be called "Isaac A.Fordjour Day." It is totally fitting that this day occurs in Black History month given Isaac's noteworthy accomplishments and his hyperpigmented state. Issac truly is Black History and he has been a integral part of my history.
What's so "thunked out" about it is that I met Issac approximately 20 years ago. Strangely enough, he walked up to me and told me "I'm going to be your brother!" He meant fraternity brother. Little did we know, we would be much more than that. As Issac approaches 40, its amazing for me to think that I have known him for half of his life. Without exaggeration, the last twenty years of my life have been greatly enriched because of his presence.
From the very beginning, Isaac has epitomized the very essence of friendship. His warm, open spirit was demonstrated in the way he opened up his whole family to me. From there all of his goodness was compounded tenfold. He and his family have fed me, clothed me, sheltered me, healed me, counseled me, consoled me, chastised me,........loved me. And it all started from a little skinny black kid telling me that he was going to be my brother.
So, I declare today to be "Issac Fordjour Day!" Celebrate this day by expressing your gratitude to your old friends or by opening yourself new friends. I suggest you do so while eating a cheeseburger... ketchup only. Ike-style. Who knows? You may gain a lifelong friend.
What's so "thunked out" about it is that I met Issac approximately 20 years ago. Strangely enough, he walked up to me and told me "I'm going to be your brother!" He meant fraternity brother. Little did we know, we would be much more than that. As Issac approaches 40, its amazing for me to think that I have known him for half of his life. Without exaggeration, the last twenty years of my life have been greatly enriched because of his presence.
From the very beginning, Isaac has epitomized the very essence of friendship. His warm, open spirit was demonstrated in the way he opened up his whole family to me. From there all of his goodness was compounded tenfold. He and his family have fed me, clothed me, sheltered me, healed me, counseled me, consoled me, chastised me,........loved me. And it all started from a little skinny black kid telling me that he was going to be my brother.
So, I declare today to be "Issac Fordjour Day!" Celebrate this day by expressing your gratitude to your old friends or by opening yourself new friends. I suggest you do so while eating a cheeseburger... ketchup only. Ike-style. Who knows? You may gain a lifelong friend.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Family Ties that BIND
Last night I cried. I'm generally not the weepy type and it wasn't in the "Oh, how sweet", while watching "The Notebook"- or "If one MORE thing happens to this girl!"suffering through "Precious"-type of way. I shed tears because I felt angry, frustrated, and powerless. I cried for my little brother, Jamie.
For those of you who don't know, Jamie is currently incarcerated in the South Central Correctional Facility in Clifton, Tennessee. While everyone there is a "victim of the system" according to them, Jamie actually is. You see, Jamie suffers from the co-occurring disorder of poverty and schizophrenia/bi-polar disorder. Talk about a "one-two punch". But more on that later...
When we were growing up, we always called Jamie crazy but, in all actuality, he was no weirder than any other Reese we knew. We were all prone to exaggerated, theatrical public performances (also known as "showing out"), and eccentric flights of fancy. For instance, as children, we actually believed we could fly if REALLY we put our minds to it. Remind to tell you about the time we jumped from the top of a three-step stairway and swore we stayed afloat for ten seconds. (Well, on second thoughts, maybe not.)
Yet, while we somehow became adults and grew out of it, Jamie did not. Jamie never accepted the limitations of reality that accompanies adulthood. I'm still not sure that that is a bad thing.
Over the course of the years, Jamie predictably got in trouble with the law. As he got older, his then undiagnosed problem got worse and Jamie suffered more, self-medicated more, got in trouble more. His last episode resulted in him being arrested for "leaving the scene of an accident" after hitting five cars in downtown Nashville. He said he was on his way to see my mother so she could pray the demons away that had been chasing him for over a month. He never made it. The demons caught him....not to mention the po-po.
While locked up in his psychotic state, he assaulted two police officers whom he said taunted him by saying they were gonna "cut his balls off." They paid for that statement with several bruises, lacerations, and a broken finger. Jamie paid for it by having his parole violated. Violation of his parole could mean he would have to fulfill his nine year sentence from a previous case.
Through the efforts of my diligent, prayerful mother, we were able to get him officially diagnosed, have the court consider his condition, and have his case transferred to Mental Health Court. That was over a year ago. This seemingly "cut and dry" case continues to go through the system. Hence, his continued incarceration, Hence, his letter. Hence, my tears.
Although Jamie's story seems intensely personal to me because he is my little brother, several families throughout America, and particularly the Black community, experience the anguish and frustration I feel when their loved one is caught in the cross hairs of mental illness and the criminal justice system. Unfortunately, Jamie's story is not unique. What do you do when you are confronted with limited resources to properly defend your loved one and even less compassion from a system that barely recognizes the legitimacy of the core problem? How do you convince an overworked and cynical system that your case is different, that your loved one is not common recidivist, that leniency is warranted.... that Jamie is special?
I guess you have to keep relying on the prayers of a diligent mother and on the powers of an awesome God. But for a mere mortal like me, it's enough to keep me all thunked out.
For those of you who don't know, Jamie is currently incarcerated in the South Central Correctional Facility in Clifton, Tennessee. While everyone there is a "victim of the system" according to them, Jamie actually is. You see, Jamie suffers from the co-occurring disorder of poverty and schizophrenia/bi-polar disorder. Talk about a "one-two punch". But more on that later...
When we were growing up, we always called Jamie crazy but, in all actuality, he was no weirder than any other Reese we knew. We were all prone to exaggerated, theatrical public performances (also known as "showing out"), and eccentric flights of fancy. For instance, as children, we actually believed we could fly if REALLY we put our minds to it. Remind to tell you about the time we jumped from the top of a three-step stairway and swore we stayed afloat for ten seconds. (Well, on second thoughts, maybe not.)
Yet, while we somehow became adults and grew out of it, Jamie did not. Jamie never accepted the limitations of reality that accompanies adulthood. I'm still not sure that that is a bad thing.
Over the course of the years, Jamie predictably got in trouble with the law. As he got older, his then undiagnosed problem got worse and Jamie suffered more, self-medicated more, got in trouble more. His last episode resulted in him being arrested for "leaving the scene of an accident" after hitting five cars in downtown Nashville. He said he was on his way to see my mother so she could pray the demons away that had been chasing him for over a month. He never made it. The demons caught him....not to mention the po-po.
While locked up in his psychotic state, he assaulted two police officers whom he said taunted him by saying they were gonna "cut his balls off." They paid for that statement with several bruises, lacerations, and a broken finger. Jamie paid for it by having his parole violated. Violation of his parole could mean he would have to fulfill his nine year sentence from a previous case.
Through the efforts of my diligent, prayerful mother, we were able to get him officially diagnosed, have the court consider his condition, and have his case transferred to Mental Health Court. That was over a year ago. This seemingly "cut and dry" case continues to go through the system. Hence, his continued incarceration, Hence, his letter. Hence, my tears.
Although Jamie's story seems intensely personal to me because he is my little brother, several families throughout America, and particularly the Black community, experience the anguish and frustration I feel when their loved one is caught in the cross hairs of mental illness and the criminal justice system. Unfortunately, Jamie's story is not unique. What do you do when you are confronted with limited resources to properly defend your loved one and even less compassion from a system that barely recognizes the legitimacy of the core problem? How do you convince an overworked and cynical system that your case is different, that your loved one is not common recidivist, that leniency is warranted.... that Jamie is special?
I guess you have to keep relying on the prayers of a diligent mother and on the powers of an awesome God. But for a mere mortal like me, it's enough to keep me all thunked out.
Friday, February 12, 2010
How much is a "Hood Pass" really worth?
"First of all....." (like my good friend Liz says), let me apologize for being so delinquent in my posts. I got a job and it seems as though thinking, as a pre-requisite to being "thunked out", is an anathema to work. Now that we are snowed in DC, I actually have time to think and eventually get to the point where I'm thunked out.
On the way back to DC, from one my many work-related travels, I read how John Mayer apologized for using the dreaded "N-word" in his interview with Playboy. Mind you, nobody actually reads Playboy so the apparent insult may have gone unnoticed. Lame apology aside, we should cut John some slack. Despite the fact that I really like his music and it truly crosses over to everyone who enjoys a good hook and catchy, well thought out lyrics, he is simply a musician. A musician, not a prophet. Black folk, we carelessly throw the word around all the time when we are talking with each other. We use it as an innocuous term of endearment and, Mr. Mayer, thinking that he is "one of us", used it too. He claims that he was issued a "hood pass" or a "N-word pass" and that makes him, for lack of a better word, an "honorary" Black person. I honor that pass, John.
I'm sure I'll get in a lot of trouble here with my two loyal readers (Thanks Mom and Jabu!), but I'm not upset about him using the word. If Black folk think the word is sooooo heinous, we should stop using it amongst ourselves. At the very least, spell it out like we do "bad words" in front of children. We can't expect people to hold themselves to a standard that we do not ourselves uphold. It is hypocritical and reeks of a double standard. We all know that double standards suck......and not in the good way.
Furthermore, why are people NOT from the hood wanting a hood pass? My family and friends who still live in the hood know me, so I'm assuming I'm safe with them. No pass needed here. The rest of the folks in the hood inspired me, both positively and negatively, to get the hell out of the hood. As matter fact, I'm STILL paying out of the wazoo for my "Get Out of the Hood" pass now (read: student loans)!
Somebody please tell John Mayer he can have my "hood pass" for the low, low, price of $250,000. That way I can pay off my student loans and buy my momma a condo.......outside of the hood.
On the way back to DC, from one my many work-related travels, I read how John Mayer apologized for using the dreaded "N-word" in his interview with Playboy. Mind you, nobody actually reads Playboy so the apparent insult may have gone unnoticed. Lame apology aside, we should cut John some slack. Despite the fact that I really like his music and it truly crosses over to everyone who enjoys a good hook and catchy, well thought out lyrics, he is simply a musician. A musician, not a prophet. Black folk, we carelessly throw the word around all the time when we are talking with each other. We use it as an innocuous term of endearment and, Mr. Mayer, thinking that he is "one of us", used it too. He claims that he was issued a "hood pass" or a "N-word pass" and that makes him, for lack of a better word, an "honorary" Black person. I honor that pass, John.
I'm sure I'll get in a lot of trouble here with my two loyal readers (Thanks Mom and Jabu!), but I'm not upset about him using the word. If Black folk think the word is sooooo heinous, we should stop using it amongst ourselves. At the very least, spell it out like we do "bad words" in front of children. We can't expect people to hold themselves to a standard that we do not ourselves uphold. It is hypocritical and reeks of a double standard. We all know that double standards suck......and not in the good way.
Furthermore, why are people NOT from the hood wanting a hood pass? My family and friends who still live in the hood know me, so I'm assuming I'm safe with them. No pass needed here. The rest of the folks in the hood inspired me, both positively and negatively, to get the hell out of the hood. As matter fact, I'm STILL paying out of the wazoo for my "Get Out of the Hood" pass now (read: student loans)!
Somebody please tell John Mayer he can have my "hood pass" for the low, low, price of $250,000. That way I can pay off my student loans and buy my momma a condo.......outside of the hood.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
All Thunked Out! What's that all about?
Welcome to my attempt to make sense of the world! Too often I sit in front of the television, YELLING, trying to make the people on it make sense. Or I will read something and think to myself "What the Hell were they thinking??" Consequently, I stay THUNKED OUT most of the day thinking about thangs and things. Since its getting crowded in my mind and the words that I think don't fit in my mouth, I am relying on you to help me make sense of it all.
Are you ready? If so, sit back and enjoy the ride.
Before we get started, I need to lay down some ground rules:
1. Respect each other. I will make every attempt be respectful in my responses and know that I have respect for any opinion that has been properly presented. Of course, it helps if you use good grammar. :)
2. Be open-minded. None of us are so gifted that we have all the answers. This space is for an exchange of ideas.
3. Leave your baggage at the door. This blog isn't about therapy.
With that being said, expect to see my take on interesting articles I've read or tidbits of conversation I've heard. I expect to hear your opinion of them.
Thanks and stay.......Thunked Out!
Are you ready? If so, sit back and enjoy the ride.
Before we get started, I need to lay down some ground rules:
1. Respect each other. I will make every attempt be respectful in my responses and know that I have respect for any opinion that has been properly presented. Of course, it helps if you use good grammar. :)
2. Be open-minded. None of us are so gifted that we have all the answers. This space is for an exchange of ideas.
3. Leave your baggage at the door. This blog isn't about therapy.
With that being said, expect to see my take on interesting articles I've read or tidbits of conversation I've heard. I expect to hear your opinion of them.
Thanks and stay.......Thunked Out!
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