Sunday, February 8, 2004

Exceptional Men

“The Negro race, like all races, is going to be saved by its exceptional men.”
                                                                                                -W.E.B. Du Bois, 1903

            Presentation is everything, and I respect the way the men of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. carry themselves. When they show up, they show up together and make sure their presence is known, yet it is always done in a tasteful matter. Yes, I want to walk in a room and yell “A Phi, 06!” Yes, I want to dance up and down the aisle before the step show starts. Yes, I want to step and win the step show. Yes, I want to be known as one of the sophisticated brothers of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. Yet even though I want all the perks that come with Greek letters, I am ready and willing to take on the responsibilities.
I believe I stand as part of what W.E.B. Du Bois calls the “Talented Tenth.” The men who have been risen by the educated men that came before them, so that they may guide the masses from destruction. The job of the Tenth is to rise and then pull their fellow man up as well, a job that I have already accepted through tutoring and mentoring. I have been given the gift of understanding, and I want to share this gift with others.  I have been bred since birth for intelligence, leadership, and success. And I have no intention of disappointing my parents, or the people who came before them who fought so that I could have the same rights as others. I am the product of hundreds of years of sweat, tears, blood, and abuse, but, more importantly, I am the start of the next hundred years of progress.
I want to be part of a tradition that dates back almost 100 years. The time when Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. was founded was filled with the oppression of Blacks. The need I feel to be around other blacks while attending a majority white university is just a taste of what the Jewels experienced in 1906 when the number of Blacks on Cornell’s campus was minute.  Almost a hundred years later, there is still the need to form a bond with my fellow man. Man’s nature is to seek out and surround itself with others like itself. For me, these people would have to be other individuals of scholarship, leadership and success.

Of course I have considered other organizations, both Greek and non-Greek, but there is something about the class of men that Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. accepts. The Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. brothers I know are well respected outside of the organization. They are scholars, they are engineers, they are president of the National Society of Black Engineers, they are creator of a minority news magazine, they are a black belt of the martial arts, they are president of African American Association, they are founder of the Chess Club. They are leaders. Though these accomplishments are great, they can hold nothing to the likes of Frederick Douglass, W.E.B. Du Bois, Duke Ellington, Donny Hathaway, Jesse Owens, Thurgood Marshall, and Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. – the only man to have a national holiday and a street in almost every city or town in the nation. These men are and were of a high caliber. I believe I am of this caliber.

Wednesday, December 3, 2003

Unacceptable Behavior

Speech & Thoughts    

           “Need some help?” Damn, I cain’t get a thank you, thanks, gracias, smirk, or nothing? She act like I pose to hold the door for her. And then looked at me with the “Get the fuck out my face” face. And I was tryin to help her out. Next time I’ll let her full hands get the door for her damn self...but then I’d be triflin. “You have a nice day.”

           “Mornin Lady” So you do see me uh? That’s aight tho...not like we don’t see each other 3 times a week on the way to class. Everyone don’t want YOU... It was just a friendly “Hello” and nothing more... But you can keep your nose in the air, that big ass head prolly keep you afloat. But it don’t make me no difference, I know the deal.
           
           “What floor ya need? ... How ya doin?” Silence and the “Nigga please” face?!? What da hell! I ain’t want ya name, ya number, or ya nappy roots. I just wanted some casual convo on my way to the top floor. But I guess that’s too much to ask from a self-proclaimed dime piece... Good thing you declared it; cause we sure as hell didn’t. “You aight?”
            “I got a man.”
            What da fuck!?! Oh, I know what this is about... you think that since I opened a door and spoke in public that I tryin to get with you.
            “Excuse me?”
            “I said I got a man.”
            Yeah, that’s what I thought you said... cuz Bitch, you ain’t....naw fuck it.

            “Bitch, you ain’t fine. I don’t want you cause last time I checked I wasn’t attracted to stuck up chicks who think they’re God’s gift to the man, the money, and the muscle and I ain’t worth shit since I ain’t an athlete or a greek. And the lady, yeah... I said lady, I want is better lookin and got her act together. See, that’s the problem. You complain about brothas approaching you all wrong, but when we speak casually you don’t know how to act and think we tryin to each in your panties. But baby, I am here to tell you... we ain’t all like ya last boyfriend, ya trifling daddy, ya girl’s cut buddy, or the dude who’s cheating on his girlfriend with you. Me, I got something about myself and I’mma need you to treat me as such. So next time you see me; it’s ok to speak. Cuz I got my lady friend and you are mere casual convo on my way to the top. This is my floor, excuse me and my unacceptable behavior.

Monday, November 10, 2003

State of Exhaustion

Slowly, my souls nears a state of exhaustion. A state where my heart freezes over and crimson icicles the size of stalagmites drip from its lower bowels and pierce the warm flesh of those who neglected to consider my feelings, and the red fog that rises from the open wound fills my gasping lungs with new breath.
           
A state where the twinkle of my eyes are glazed over by a dark haze that clouds my vision as well as my compassion and my pupils are replaced by a black lazer that cuts a hole through the darkness just narrow enough for a perpetrating eye to see my lack of compassion before its retina is burned out.
            
A state where a dark tongue slivers from my lips and hisses my venomous words with the fury of infections disease that will plague the bitten with the same ache I endure.
            
My soul...it is drowsy; it is worn-out; it is tired; it is fatigued; it is nearing a state of exhaustion. So please, allow my soul to rest, before it eternally sleeps.

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

Never Be

You don’t want me, it would never work.
I’m not gonna lie, and I tend to flirt
But never cheat and leave you hurt.
Just go on and admit it, I’m not your type.
I’d hold you close, kiss your lips, and treat you right
Listen to your problems and ease your fears through the night.
You can’t date me and I’mma tell you why.
There’s nothing to see when you come to spy,
There’s nothing to catch, cause to you I won’t lie,
And when you call, into your arms I’ll fly.
You want a date filled with TV’s drama.
Cell phone calls from my baby’s momma.
The night ending early, talking about “I’mma call ya”
Yet he says you and yours and his futurama.
IF we were together it’d be a constant battle:
Away from you, I’d be good so your friend can’t tattle,
And on our quite nights alone my phone won’t rattle.
Your used to guys that give you trouble,
They come off one way, then bust your bubble,
Then the relationship comes crashing to rubble,
Soon looking to me, doing a take-double.
But me with you, it wouldn’t last.
I’d be open, telling most my past.
Around my boys never put you on blast.
And we’re together, you’d be first, I’d be last.
You couldn’t take the treatment I’d give to you,
And the nights I’d spend just holding you,
Cause you are the one that keeps my skies blue.


Imagine Me

Imagine yourself a young black male,
Intelligent, athletic,
And an attitude to always prevail.
Five foot seven, nice to look at,
Alright with the ladies,
With a good mind, on top of all that.
Now most people would think his life is great,
Just coast through life, relax,
Enjoy your time here and become your fate.
You can’t imagine the burden I bare,
The stress that pulls at every soul so rare.
The weight of a thousand soldiers
Comes down upon my shoulders.
All the many people who’ve paved my way
Watch me with hope, that I’ll be their pay.
Yet, I didn’t ask to be the hope for the future,
I just did what I do, living my life, my adventure.
Those piercing eyes that watch so close,
Some so I can fail, others so they can boast.
You thought the Trade came tumbling down,
Imagine my anxiety with exam time comes around.
How easy it would be to be like the rest,
Enjoy my time, stop worrying about the test.
But those souls tell me I must succeed,
To continue their fight, to strengthen their breed.
So many eyes fault the “luck” I’ve had,
Waiting for my mistake so they can brag
About how they knew I was never a threat
And they’ll leave me be and soon regret
That I wasn’t playing, and flip the script,

And take their jobs, money, and long vacation trips.

Friday, December 20, 2002

My Fault: Letter to a Lost Love

            I let other’s thoughts and opinions influence my own, and in the end if was the two of us that ended up hurt. The week that followed the termination of our union was pure punishment for my sin. My body felt physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. Unable to focus on my work, all aspects of my life suffered. I had withdrawn from friends and family, but the weight on my heart is that you had withdrawn from me, for within a few minutes of the word that ended our life I realized my certain damnation. It was too late. Your eyes shed a million tears, and millions more set silent on my heart. I begged for your forgiveness, for another chance, for a chance for things to be as they should have been. But I had cracked your heart that you had so trustfully left in my possession. The smooth pedals from roses weren’t the remedy to the infection I had caused for us both.
            In the months that followed our friendship roses from the ashes of our former life and we grew close again. I never tried to regain your heart in the way I once held it. One reason: I had never really let it go; the other: I feared you rejection.  I tried in the period after I had let you go and you made it clear to me that it couldn’t happen.
            Even in the minutes before you revealed your new love interest to me, I naively hoped you were returning to me. I was, at least crushed, hurt, and my heart was shadowed over. I completely withdrew from you. It hurt to think of you, to look at you, to smell your scent, to hear your voice. The very idea of you without me hurt.
            My silence, it risked our friendship, but at that point I couldn’t stand to be your friend because I had always known you as more than that. So you taught me, as I had taught you before, not to let go and forget about people so easy.
            Without you in my heart to keep me sane, my lust soon talked me into things I soon regretted. Even in the time we were apart I always acted as if you were my girl, and I tried to do nothing that would jeopardize that. Now I feel that I could have had you back if I had had the courage to express my feelings. The calls, the visits, you wanting me to visit, wanting to spend time with me. You never said it but you gave me ample time and opportunity to get you back. But I was too stupid, arrogant, and foolish to realize it. I was treading water waiting on you, and you had already given up on me and moved. I can blame no one but myself. Till this day I daydream of the memories we had together and wonder will there ever be time to fix my mistakes. For although I never told you, I truly loved you.


Wednesday, November 13, 2002

I Can Make You Cry

When the tears come easing out of you watery eyes and roll down your cheek I have mixed emotions.

I'm sad that I am the one who has made a strong black woman break to the point where rain pours from her face, thunder rumbles her chest and lightening sounds from her lips.

I'm proud that I have enough presence in your life to bring about such strong emotion. If I can't make you cry with joy, but weep with pain, and you can brush me off with a flicker of your fingers; how much did I really mean to you?

When those tears find their resting place in a smile that stretched across your face, I rejoice in knowing that the poem I wrote you, the necklace I found for you, and the flowers I sent you truly reached your mind body and soul.

But when those same tears come from a canvas that's stressed and distressed, aching and depressed I wish that I could endure your pain and erase your tears because I am the one that made you cry.