22:29 - (life) the truth about sexual assault... or the truth about mine, at least
Category: Life
In August 2007, I was sexually assaulted.
The person that assaulted me was not a stranger, it was someone I knew and with whom I had been having consentual sex prior to the incident. "Prior" is the operative word.
I know what you're thinking. "If you were messing around with the guy, how can you say he assaulted you? Didn't you have sex with him before and it was OK?"
This is what gets a lot of women very confused and makes them feel as though they are responsible for the assault. Just because you agree to have sex with someone on one or more occasions (or even a thousand occasions) doesn't mean that you agree to have sex with them in perpetuity aka forever. Your consent can be withdrawn at any time. You can end your relationship or sexual contact with someone at any time. You're within your rights to see, have sex with or NOT SEE and NOT HAVE SEX with anyone you choose. It's your body. It's your choice. Some men can not handle this. The particular man with whom I was involved, could not handle the concept that access to my body is under my sole discretion and not his and he still won't go away. Contrary to his story, I wasn't drunk that night. I wasn't using drugs.
This is what happened to me...
I was involved with the person. The person was possessive, controlling and vindictive. I attempted to end the relationship with the person. The person became very aggressive, yelling, name-calling. I feared the person. I began avoiding the person. The person began "popping up" in all of my relationships to punish me for rejecting him. The person became very angry. The person planned and carried out the assault.
The assault was sparked by what the person considered to be a public humiliation, specifically a slideshow (yes, a slideshow) posted on myspace showing the respondents of a personal ad I placed to find his "replacement".
Read it again. I'm serious. This really happened.
People think that sexual assaults are about sex. They are not.
People believe that sexual assaults occur between strangers. They don't. Usually, victims are assaulted in their homes, as was I. The victim knows their attacker.
People think that sexual assaults happen at gun or knifepoint. They don't. Usually, sexual assaults occur by way of threats and coercion. The victim's prior experience with the perpetrator is enough to overpower the victim.
Don't believe me? You don't have to. Go look it up yourself.
Sexual assaults are not about lust or sex. It's about power and control. When my perpetrator saw clearly that I was no longer under his control, he used the assault to shift the balance of power, even if it was only in his own perception. What angered him most was that he saw me making a choice about with whom I would share my body and that choice was NOT HIM so he aimed to simply take that choice away from me. It was a way to get back at me or put me in "my place" (whereever he thinks that is) or to make me "sorry", a bizarre sort of parting shot. Then afterward he spread a bunch of rumours about me and poisoned a lot of my relationships to isolate me.
He's so worried about going to jail that he's spending all kinds of money, time and effort on a massive public relations campaign about how great he is and how terrible I am, that I was drunk that night, that I'm a slut, whatever. It's been over a year and he's still stalking me, still seeking out information about me, still in my life.
I want to be far away from him in every way and forget what he did, but he can't forget me.
My mother had a similar problem. When I was just a small fry, she had this gorgeous boyfriend that we'll call "Farouk". Farouk was a fair-skinned, half-breed Indian. Gorgeous, but kinda crazy. He used to threaten to kill himself whenever they had a fight. This one time, we were standing on the A train platform at 34th street on the way back to his apartment in Harlem. They had some sort of argument and he opened his pants and said, "I'm going to kill myself right now. I'm going to pee on the third rail! Watch!"
My mother looked me straight in the eye and we made the same face and giggled, shaking our heads.
When my mother broke up with him, he refused to accept the break-up. He made friends with my mom's brother and in this way he managed to stay in her life for another ten years! He would find ways to tag along to any event my uncle attended. Every single encounter was the same. He would say the same things. "I love you. I love Jehan like my own child." My mother would smile and not say a word. Not a single word. She would touch his arm and then walk away. I used to think, "Wow. He really loves her." I was wrong.
Farouk showed up at my grandmother's 75th birthday party and my mother had had enough. She confronted my uncle. "Why did you bring Farouk?!" My uncle didn't have an answer. Farouk's words were the same, "I love you. I love Jehan like my own child."
Farouk died from cancer several years later. I asked if we could go cry for him and my mother said no. "How can you be so mean? He loved you all that time."
"He didn't show up over and over because he loved me. You don't understand. I had an abortion. I aborted his child. He was punishing me. He hated me," she said and went back to watching her TV show.
His words echoed in my mind again, "I love Jehan like my own child." I felt queasy when I realized it. He used to say it so sweetly. No one else understood what he was doing to her, except her.
And, it's the same with me and my abuser. No one sees what he's doing except me. He can not let go of me. I have not spoken to him in over a year and he can not let go of me. I moved away and he can not let go of me. I have let go of every relationship, every connection but he keeps building new ones. He wants to know what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, what I'm wearing, what I'm saying, where I'm going, what I'm doing at all times. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is me. He can not let go of me.
According to him, I'm trying to hurt him. But all I've ever done is avoid him. I let him completely off the hook. All I asked him to do was stay away from me. It's as if that's the one thing he can't do.
I forgave him a long time ago, but he can't accept it. He can not accept forgiveness, because he can't apologize. He can't apologize because he doesn't think that he did anything wrong. All he can do is keep holding on to me.
yesterday morning i woke up crying but with no sound or sadness and i did not know why it must have been a dream i told myself and waited for the memory to resurface in me and i lay there in tears with no sound or sadness and recalled my mother singing but with no sound and she kept singing mouthing these words and when the sound reemerged the voice was mine and not sad at all and it was first time i've seen my mother smile in a dream
clickity clack clickity clack can i go dancing, too? clickity clack clickity clack no, but i'll have some fun for you clickity clack clickity clack my shoes don't make that noise clickity clack clickity clack you've got to get the swing just right clickity clack clickity clack he's here! where will you go? clickity clack clickity clack to see willie colon and hector lavoe clickity clack clickity clack uh oh! there are two men clickity clack clickity clack tell the one that's crying that I have a new boyfriend
Yeah, I know. I've been on hiatus. What have I been doing? Well...
I've been doing a lot of sleeping, a lot of crying, a lot of eating, a lot of reflecting, a lot of praying and not much else, but that's plenty anyway.
After a 10 year detour, I finally completed my bachelor's degree this February. Thank you. Thank you. Uh huh. Yeah, I know. I'm the third person in my family to complete a four year degree. Yeah, I know. My mother died right before she completed her own and she was the same age that I am now. Geez, I know. It's a big spiritual deal, so of course I had opposition.
I survived.
There comes a point in every person's life where they come to understand and know who they truly are at the core, in real terms. And, in saying so, I do not mean identity in terms of what other people think of you or who you need to be to fit into any particular mold or position ascribed to you, but who you are at the core. The true self.
Bruce Wayne faces this moment of self-discovery in "Batman Begins". Anyone who's seen the film knows that Bruce comes face-to-face with himself and the true nature of himself, but the moment doesn't occur when most people think it does. I'll explain.
Bruce Wayne travels to the far east and encounters a dark figure who, while teaching him to fight, admonishes Bruce on his unwillingness to kill. Their exchange is predictable but effective. When Bruce is presented with a man accused of theft and murder and instructed to kill him, the following exchange ensues:
BRUCE
I'm no executioner.
DUCARD/RA'S AL GHUL
Your compassion is a weakness your enemies will not share.
Bruce has a reply, but more on that later. Let's focus on Ra's Al Ghul's line. This is what you call foreshadowing. Once you hear dialogue like that, you know the principle is about to be played out in detail. Within minutes, Bruce is presented with an opportunity to back up his words. Ducard/Ra's Al Ghul is about to go over a cliff to certain death and Bruce risks his own life to save him. Bruce proves his compassion by saving his enemy's life, right? No, this is not when the compassion proven. Wait for it. As he leaves his enemy in the hands of one who would care for him, the man says, "I will tell him you saved his life." Bruce smiles, pleased with his deed. Blessed naivete.
Of course, once Bruce returns to Gotham and trouble begins to brew, he doesn't know who's at the root of it, but we do. The audience knows because we've seen this story a million times. There are only a few human stories. There may be an infinite number of ways to tell these stories but the stories are very few. This is one of them: no good deed goes unpunished. All we need now is the big reveal. Wait for it.
It happens in Bruce's home during a party. Talk about inconvenient! Just seeing Ducard/Ra's Al Ghul there, Bruce instantaneously realizes that his compassion came back to bite him in the ass or so it would seem to the untrained eye and heart. The expression on Bruce's face is amazing, incredible, understated, potent. Truly brilliant. Christian Bale is a true talent.
BRUCE
I saved your life.
DUCARD/RA'S AL GHUL
I warned you about compassion, Bruce.
Horrific.
Bruce, at least momentarily, questions his decision to spare Ducard/Ra's Al Ghul, his commitment to compassion. As he and his Butler, Alfred, watch his ancestral home burn, grief stricken, Bruce says:
BRUCE
What have I done, Alfred?
"A truly compassionate attitude toward others does not change even if they behave negatively or hurt you." -- His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama
Compassion is not something you practice when dealing with your friends and family or people you like or with whom you have some sort of affiliation. The kindness you show to those people is based on attachment and other factors directed at creating an environment to have your own needs met at a later time.
True compassion is something that you practice with everyone--especially those you perceive to be enemies or people who would not appreciate it or from whom you would gain nothing or even lose something as a result of showing compassion.
"As portrayed in the film, compassion is at least as risky a strategy as violence, since Ra's Al Ghul pursues his destructive goals even after Bruce has showed compassion on him by saving his life. Experiencing such a repudiating reaction onto one's compassion, it is tempting to resort to means of violence instead of remaining on the road of compassion. But if compassion is a risky strategy in that it might not stop the enemy's violence, the latter is a risky strategy because violence takes over the control of one's own being..." (Cojocaru, Daniel. "It Separates Us from Them: Compassion and Conflict in Batman Begins" 2006)
In unjust situations people often pose the question, "What would Jesus do?" Great question, but a more meaningful question would be, "What would you do?"
As I mentioned earlier, during the original exchange between Bruce and Ra's Al Ghul, Bruce replies to Ra's cynical line about the lack of compassion amongst his "enemies".
BRUCE
I'm no executioner.
DUCARD/RA'S AL GHUL
Your compassion is a weakness your enemies will not share.
BRUCE
That's why it's so important. It separates us from them.
When Bruce opts to save Ra's Al Ghul's life, he thinks he's found his own compassion and true self. This is not the moment when he discovers himself. Bruce discovers himself when he is confronted by Ra's Al Ghul in his home during the party, when the realization of the cost of compassion comes to bear. The cost? His ancestral home. And what is Bruce's response?
BRUCE
Rebuild it. Brick for brick.
Occasions of hatred are certainly never settled by hatred. They are settled by freedom from hatred. This is the eternal law. -- Nikaya, 1:5
06:25 - (life) intolerance. catch the wave!
Category: Life
A father watched his young daughter playing in the garden. He smiled as he reflected on how sweet and pure his little girl was. Tears formed in his eyes as he thought about her seeing the wonders. Suddenly she just stopped and stared at the ground. He went over to her to see what work of God had captured her attention. He noticed she was looking at two spiders mating.
"Daddy, what are those two spiders doing?" she asked. "They're mating," her father replied.
"What do you call the spider on top?" she asked. "That's a Daddy Longlegs," her father answered.
"So, the other one is a Mommy Longlegs?" the little girl asked.
As his heart soared with the joy of such a cute and innocent question he replied "No dear. Both of them are Daddy Longlegs."
The little girl, looking a little puzzled, thought for a moment, then took her foot and stomped them flat, saying "Well, we're not having any of that brokeback mountain shit in our garden."
07:19 - wickedness and needful things
Category: Life
Wicked people will carry out their wicked deeds and then expect retaliation. When the retaliation never materializes, they will manufacture it or somehow try to provoke or invoke it. It's a strange phenomena. It's as if there is a script to play out in their minds and it must be played out in order for them to keep their worlds straight and justify their own actions when, in fact, there is no justification for their actions.
If you're not a wicked person, it can be difficult to fully understand and identify the maneuvers of the wicked. You might notice the weirdness of it, not like it, avoid it, whatever, but you may not really understand it and as a result you end up as an unwitting actor in the "script" of their wickedness. It seems as if no matter what you say or do, the story keeps moving forward as much as you would like to stop it. You are urged toward the very eventuality that you do not want and have never wanted.
At some point you have to figure out for yourself: how do you write yourself out of an evil story of someone else's making? You withdraw. Disengage. Turn away completely. Live your own story, not the one in which wicked people would try to cast you.
Then you have to answer the question of: what is my story? What do I really want out of this life? Where was I headed before things went off the rails? These things get muddled and confused when evil touches your life and diverts you from your path. Crimes, personal violations can do that to you. In these times, its important to remain yourself and not to be changed by whatever happened to you. How do you go back to being yourself, especially when others are actively obstructing your process? Keep trying.
Not everyone is out to harm you. Not everyone is like the person who harmed you. If you liked to smile and be friendly, then do that again. If you loved to paint, then paint again. If you loved to sing, then do that. If you liked to pray, then pray again. Be yourself. It sounds a lot easier than it is to actually do, but you have to keep trying.
"Why you leave the English guy? He was good!" -- my Dad
People have asked me how it is that after two years of separation my husband and I were able to get back together. Considering the way things ended and all the fucked up things I said and wrote about him, I don't really have an answer for them.
Have you seen that movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? It's about Joel and Clementine. Joel is boring and normal. Clementine is exciting and unusual with wild hair (of course). Joel is intense but he likes to hold on. Clementine is intense but quick to say "goodbye".
They have an argument wherein Joel hurts Clementine's feelings. In the space of time it takes for Joel to calm down and make an apology, Clementine visits Lacuna and has all of her memories of Joel and her relationship with him erased. Devastated, Joel decides to do the same.
But, they are so connected to each other, they promptly meet again and start up again. In the course of doing so, they both listen to each other on tape telling Lacuna every little detail of everything they grew to hate about each other.
Joel and Clementine listen to Joel's "rant tape" where he remarks that Clementine's wild hair-do's are "bullshit" and a gimmick, to which Clementine bristles in the present. Joel replies apologetically, "Actually, I really like your hair," or some such thing.
Ha. You see that's the trouble with trouble. It starts out as fun. Everything he loves about her now are things he'll hate her for later and she'll do the same with him.
Imagine it. You meet someone, you're excited and someone hands you a tape from the future with your voice detailing everything you're going to grow to hate about the other person along with another tape of the other person's voice explaining everything they'll grow to hate about you.
Right after Clementine walks out the door again, Joel listens to himself on tape saying, "What a loss to spend that much time with someone only to find out that she's a stranger." Clementine is someone he can never really know.
Their memories have been erased, but they have the tapes. So, he knows the ending before he even begins. They both know the ending. Being quick to say "goodbye" and detach, Clementine begins to walk away. Joel pursues.
Joel says, "I don't see anything I don't like about you."
Frustrated, Clementine replies, "But you will! But you will, and I'll get bored with you and feel trapped, because that's what happens with me."
06:05 - (goals) He’s the dick. I was just stupid for trusting him.
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
In the midst of this attack on me, I did nothing other than ask for help and ask for an answer to the question of "why" it was happening at all.
I've encountered so many negative things, so much unexplained evil and in the midst of all of this I've learned so much about myself:
I'm not evil. I'm not cruel. I'm not vengeful. I'm not malicious. I can care deeply without possessing or holding on. I can let go. I can recover.
I loved him. I trusted him. He hurt me. It's not my fault.
I told him that I wanted to connect to other people, that I wanted out of the relationship. His reaction is not my fault.
It was not OK for him to use his relationships with professors to punish me for whatever I did or said to him in private. It's not my fault.
What he did the last night he was here was wrong. I did not want what he did to me. He made me physically sick for two weeks. It was a disgusting, evil thing to plan and do to me. Then he tried to cover it up. It was his action, not mine. It's not my fault.
He's the dick. I was just stupid for trusting him.
My hands are clean. My heart is clean. I'll get better. Insh'allah, God will bless me with an honorable man.
This is my grandfather, Tomas. When I was 4 years old and living with him and my grandmother in Panama, I asked him if I could go to iglesia (church) with the family next door.
You know what he said to me?
"Religion is for the poor and the weak. We are neither. No one is coming back for us. We must take care of each other."
One of the funniest things I've ever seen occurred during one of Zach Galifianakis' sets during the Comedians of Comedy Tour. He happened upon a singing group of older Black men performing on the street and he invited them to perform during his set that very evening. They made up a song from lyrics Zach had provided them.
The lyrics were quite simple: He ain't gon' email you no mo'!
Zach had overheard these words being spoken by a Black woman (of course!) to another. I can only imagine what words had been exchanged before and after this choice line. In any event, it made for a very funny song complete with inspired arrangement and thrilling harmonies. I've tried to find it on YouTube.com, but no luck. If anyone has this, I'd love to see it again and again and again. But not for the reasons you'd think.
When Zach originally asked them to perform, the men insisted on royalties, because their performance would be used on TV ad infinitum. Zach refused, but the way he refused was very interesting to me. He seemed to have this attitude, as if to say, "Who do these guys think they are?" He behaved as if those men were so out of line to even ask to be compensated for their contribution to the production. Now what on Earth would give Zach the idea that they didn't have any right to even ask to be compensated for their efforts? I mean, would Zach perform for free? Would you--especially knowing that everyone else involved in the production was being paid and very well, at that?
What an interesting contradiction. On the one hand, he recognizes their talent and so much so that he wants to have them enrich his own performance. They were the finale of his set to raucous applause. But, on the other hand, he finds them to be "out of line" to demand compensation.
I think Zach ended up paying them about $150, which was an absolute insult to those men, especially when you consider how much Zach and others have benefited from that production.
Why doesn't Zach think they deserve to be paid for their work? What's that about? I think you and I both know what that's about. Is Zach willing to admit what that's about? Does he even realize it?
Another interesting example of how others profit from the innate creativity of Black people, whilst viciously ridiculing them, can be found deep in the plot line of the television show LOST. One of the characters, "Charlie", is the founding member of a one-hit-wonder band called "DriveShaft". Their one-hit-wonder song is "You All Everybody". Where did they get the lyrics? A Black woman in the audience at a taping of Donahue, years ago, stood up and made the following comment:
You all, everybody. I don't like you stupid people, wearing expensive clothes!
So, now that's the chorus of the song. Hilarious, isn't it?
How long has Donahue been off the air? Probably 20 years now. J.J. Abrams, the creator of LOST, said he heard that and never forgot it. All these years later, it's a big part of the plot line in a really successful TV show. I'm sure that woman doesn't even know what she inspired.
I think that's funny and sad and strangely satisfying.
When people from around the world and even around this very country, visit big cities like New York with a visible Black population, they don't go home and talk about all the big builidngs they saw. They go home and talk about us. They talk about the clothes we wear, the way we talk, the way we walk, how well we sing, how well we dance and how well we played. How clever and quick witted we are, our humour, our complicated but warm greetings for each other. They talk about our elaborate hairstyles, our vibrant sense of style, our intricate adornments, our colorful, expressive speech.
But, if we ever spoke directly to you, even asked you for the time, you'd piss your pants. You're so deeply conflicted, aren't you?
We're beautiful, in spite of what you did. You tried to destroy us, but you failed. We're stronger than you. You fear it.
You're like a serial killer that surrounds yourself with mementos and possessions of your victim. You are obsessed with us. You see, we don't want to be you. You want to be us. You think that if you consume us, if you make us your heroes, if the most popular music is ours, if you make us the MVP, if you give us an Oscar, inflate your lips with collagen, tan yourselves to oblivion, save up for those butt implants that somehow, someway you will digest us, we will become part of you. That way you can absolve yourself, incorporate us and keep us close without having to look at us--a constant reminder of your worst deeds.
But, it doesn't work does it? And, that's very frustrating, isn't it? This makes you angry, but you don't sing and dance very well, do you? And, you've got no jumpshot. You don't have an outlet for your anger. James Baldwin was right. You only know how to express yourselves through hatred and violence. When you feel frustrated, you've got no jazz to write. When you get upset, you take up bats and go looking for niggers--literally and figuratively.
Then you feel guilty. So you buy some more of our music and some more posters of our biggest sports star, but you can't buy forgiveness, can you? You can't buy absolution with your money or your twisted gestures, can you? Like a battered girlfriend, we'll never love you, because we know you. We've seen what you're capable of. We only stay because we can't get away... yet. And, you know that. So, you get angry again and we all know what happens when you get angry.
That's the drawback to getting away with murder. You have to live with the guilt.
You know something? When this place is in rubble, when there is nothing left of it besides non-working sewer systems and train yards overgrown with weeds where the mongrel descendants of all your unwanted pets forage for anything edible, when this place for which you sold your collective soul is no more ...
No one will remember your tall buildings because there will be plenty more, bigger and better, where there are none right now.
No one will remember your "innovations", medical or otherwise, which caused so much more misery than they ever solved.
No one will remember your giant corporations that destroyed countless lives in the name of profit and gave absolutely nothing of value back to those it victimized.
No one will remember your clever white collar crimes, mysterious deaths, stolen diamond rings, high-heeled shoes and other trappings of your ... questionable collective morality, or lack thereof.
The only memories of this place worth having will come in the form of Black people and their contributions big and small. They will remember Oprah and all her hairstyles and weight changes, Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson, Diana Ross and Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson and his moonwalk, countless and nameless breakdancers, Jimi Hendrix and Rick James, Run DMC and their unlaced sneakers, Martin Luther King, Jr and his otherwordly patience, Malcolm X and his fearless nature and electrifying speeches, Eddie Murphy and his leather suits, Dave Chappelle and how he spit on your $50 million for which you painted him as a madman.
In fact, no one will remember you or anything you did at all, except to recall with shame, relief and renewed vigilance that what you visited upon the Earth will never happen again.
And, this collective forgetting of you is already starting, because when I think of the Comedians of Comedy Tour, which should have been called the Most Unfunny "White" People You Can Find Who Were So Threatened By The Kings & Queens of Comedy Tours That They Had To Come Up With This Crappy Tour, those Black guys singing the "lyrics" dreamt up by that anonymous Black woman is the only thing I or anyone else remembers about it.
I find that funny and sad and ... strangely satisfying.
In another life, before I was focused on becoming an attorney, before I dedicated my life to making it easy for you to buy a bunch of crap online that you don't need, I majored in Communication. Human Communication.
Did you know that you can evoke a fear response in someone just by showing them an angle of 45 degrees or less? Or that you can change Person A's opinion of Person B, simply by positioning Person B to the right or left of an object?
What do you do with a degree in Human Communication? You go into Politics, Advertising or you consult on movies and TV shows about product placement and where the villain should stand in relation to the protagonist. You wage war for people minds and then you divvy up the spoils.
Have you heard the one about how "they" are trying to associate "terrorism" with Black people? Black men, specifically? Yeah, this is a good one.
Considering how much fear-mongering has been going on about "terrorism" and Arabs and Muslims and what-have-you, I was just wondering when they were going to get around to the cross-promotion of Black people as a "terrorist threat".
Actually, this idea isn't new. Similar propaganda characterizing Blacks as terrorists and subversive forces were put forth during Reconstruction, after the abolition of slavery. I'm not particularly interested in writing an expository essay on the subject, but in summary, the main problem during Reconstruction was probably best illustrated in Wilmington, North Carolina. In Wilmington, as in many other cities at the time, there had risen a prominent and successful integrated community with Blacks being a majority and very wealthy.
This was only a few years out of slavery and you may wonder how that could have been possible. In order to understand this, you have to realize that slaves were highly skilled in their trades. The idea of slaves as being reluctant, lazy and inefficient beasts of burden is, to be charitable to the perpetuators of this myth, erroneous.
You see, the institution of slavery practiced something called "tracking", where each slave was given a "track" from the time they were weaned and they were not permitted to deviate from their "track". (Tracking is still practiced in some West Indian/Caribbean school systems.) So, if a slave got pegged as a blacksmith, that's what he learned to do from about the age of three or four until he died. In fact, a major source of income for the slave owners was renting out their slaves' expertise to local and not-so local businesses. But, I digress.
In any event, imagine how skilled you would be if you had been in the same profession since you were four years old? With that in mind, it's not difficult to see why or how someone could go from being a slave to being a well-to-do tradesman within a few short years. Oh, but they couldn't read, you say. In many cases, they couldn't read--at first. Actually, most people at that time couldn't read, whether white or Black. In any event, how long does it take to learn how to read, especially when you can afford a tutor? A few weeks, maybe?
Back to Wilmington. The majority of elected positions were held by Blacks. The place was littered with Black business owners, lawyers, judges, doctors, etc. Basically, any profession that had previously been viewed as "whites only", was no longer so and no one seemed to mind. Well, at least the equally successful and wealthy whites did not seem to mind. After all, they had elected, dined and lived among them. It is difficult to begrudge the success of others that you see in the same light as yourself, someone with whom you can identify.
The resentment, the backlash came from the whites above and below on the economic ladder. From above, there was fear that they would be overtaken. From below, there was resentment that they had been overtaken. Suddenly, simply having "white" skin didn't count for much. These sentiments were exploited by those in ultimate control.
Thus began a wave of publications warning whites of the dangers of Black dominance. Cartoons were published showing huge, expensive shoes worn by the newly rich Blacks stepping on and crushing whites. Editorials exhorted whites to simply "take back" public offices, do whatever was necessary to drive the Blacks who the fearfully and wrongly believed sought to dominate whites out of their midsts.
The irony of whites objecting to the domination of one group over another, especially in a case where Blacks, the dominant group, were two-thirds of the Wilimington population is fascinating and practically unbearable!
One of the most heavily used images was that of a Black man "raping" a white woman. Nevermind that this was an irrational fear. Nevermind that in ALL of the instances where Black men were killed for their involvement with a white woman, the relationship was indeed consensual. Nevermind all of that, because a series of these depictions and others like it lead to a mob incident so horrible, that Blacks were being pulled at random from their homes, businesses and jobs to be beaten senseless in the streets. If the Blacks did not fight back, they were left bleeding and broken in the road. If they fought back at all, they were killed in gruesome ways.
Control. One white man, Alfred Wadell (ph), was bent so fully on control that he said, "If you see a negro at the voting house, tell him in a stern voice to leave. If he doesn't, kill him." Another equally bent woman, her name escapes me at the moment said, "If we have to lynch a thousand, then lynch a thousand." It was their aim and the aim of others like them to remain in full, unquestioned control.
If you'd like to learn more about what happened in Wilmington, visit PBS.org. It's delightful.
So, what does that have to do with the crap about the accused Black "terrorists"? Everything. It shows you how far people are willing to go to remain in control. How do you do that? By deceiving otherwise good people.
Let's say you hate Bob, for whatever reason, and you want to beat the shit out of Bob. But, you know that you probably won't be able to carry it out when there are so many people around who don't share your opinion of Bob. How do you solve this? You solve it by convincing the others that what you're going to do to Bob is OK. How do you do that? You make them dislke and fear Bob, the object of your rage, because once you do that, they won't care what happens to Bob. In fact, when they look out their window and see you beating the shit out of Bob they'll likely say, "Good. Serves Bob right," and go back to what they're doing.
I look at the pictures of these poor guys and my heart just breaks for them. They are caught in something they don't understand. The only person who ever mentioned anything about blowing something up was the informant, not the guys. The informant was constantly egging them on to do something and they just never did anything, except stand up in a room and recite a few words.
I can just guess what those guys must have said when that informant dude wasn't around.
"Yo, dude is crazy. He steady talking about blowing some shit up. I ain't tryin' to get blown up."
"We gotta stop hangin' with him."
"But, he's fun and he always pays for everything."
"He need to ease up on all that bomb shit. Don't nobody wanna hear about that shit all the time."
Imagine it. All those months of surveillance, work and effort to entrap them into doing something and those guys wouldn't budge. It must have been very frustrating. They obviously had no intention of doing anything. All the FBI could come up with was a pledge to a fictional organization in a dark room. But, that's a big crime now thanks to the Patriot Act, you know? You can't even say that you'd like to leave this place without getting into big trouble.
The ability to say such things without fear was supposed to be the unique selling point of this country. If that's not the case anymore, where the fuck are we living?
Terrorism and terrorists exists, but its true nature and their true identity may not be immediately apparent to you. Prepare yourself for martial law. You'd be amazed at what people will do and tolerate when they are afraid.
The Nazi's were experts at this technique. They waged war for people's minds and won. The Nazi's were able to so completely turn German citizens against the Jews, by making people fear them, that you could kill a Jew in the street and no one would lift a finger to help. They blamed Jews for every ill in the nation and the Germans ate it up like strudel. When those trains pulled off for parts "unknown", noone even bothered to ask where they were going or if they were coming back. Some of the passersby were gleeful, but most were merely passive.
I'm immune, and thus lonely, because I know their techniques. But, a war is also being waged for your mind. Has your mind been claimed like the Germans, like the smiling young couple at the lynching? Are you gleeful or just merely passive?
In the midst of this attack on me, I did nothing other than ask for help and ask for an answer to the question of "why" it was happening at all.
This is my grandfather, Tomas. When I was 4 years old and living with him and my grandmother in Panama, I asked him if I could go to iglesia (church) with the family next door.
One of the funniest things I've ever seen occurred during one of Zach Galifianakis' sets during the Comedians of Comedy Tour. He happened upon a singing group of older Black men performing on the street and he invited them to perform during his set that very evening. They made up a song from lyrics Zach had provided them. 
You're like a serial killer that surrounds yourself with mementos and possessions of your victim. You are obsessed with us. You see, we don't want to be you. You want to be us. You think that if you consume us, if you make us your heroes, if the most popular music is ours, if you make us the MVP, if you give us an Oscar, inflate your lips with collagen, tan yourselves to oblivion, save up for those butt implants that somehow, someway you will digest us, we will become part of you. That way you can absolve yourself, incorporate us and keep us close without having to look at us--a constant reminder of your worst deeds. 
Then you feel guilty. So you buy some more of our music and some more posters of our biggest sports star, but you can't buy forgiveness, can you? You can't buy absolution with your money or your twisted gestures, can you? Like a battered girlfriend, we'll never love you, because we know you. We've seen what you're capable of. We only stay because we can't get away... yet. And, you know that. So, you get angry again and we all know what happens when you get angry.
The only memories of this place worth having will come in the form of Black people and their contributions big and small. They will remember Oprah and all her hairstyles and weight changes, Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson, Diana Ross and Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson and his moonwalk, countless and nameless breakdancers, Jimi Hendrix and Rick James, Run DMC and their unlaced sneakers, Martin Luther King, Jr and his otherwordly patience, Malcolm X and his fearless nature and electrifying speeches, Eddie Murphy and his leather suits, Dave Chappelle and how he spit on your $50 million for which you painted him as a madman.
In another life, before I was focused on becoming an attorney, before I dedicated my life to making it easy for you to buy a bunch of crap online that you don't need, I majored in Communication. Human Communication.
I look at the pictures of these poor guys and my heart just breaks for them. They are caught in something they don't understand. The only person who ever mentioned anything about blowing something up was the informant, not the guys. The informant was constantly egging them on to do something and they just never did anything, except stand up in a room and recite a few words. 
The Nazi's were experts at this technique. They waged war for people's minds and won. The Nazi's were able to so completely turn German citizens against the Jews, by making people fear them, that you could kill a Jew in the street and no one would lift a finger to help. They blamed Jews for every ill in the nation and the Germans ate it up like strudel. When those trains pulled off for parts "unknown", noone even bothered to ask where they were going or if they were coming back. Some of the passersby were gleeful, but most were merely passive.