Monday, June 22, 2020

A Revolutionary Father's Day

       As my own father mentioned today, after I brought up a question about this Holiday we celebrate commending Father’s, for Black men in particular, this holiday holds an eerie significance.  Being that Black men have been murdered and are still murdered by racists and police, any Black father that is not dead and incarcerated is a very blessed man, a living symbol of Power, Greatness, Strength and Love. Oh yes, soon in a blog or two from this one, you will read about me taking about the power of love. For one reason alone I will make a serious example.  Ok, so we know that for love, many folks will do the damdest of things, right?

       I have one more question.  If you knew that there were negative forces, being a set of laws or a group of people, that wanted the most precious person you care about, either a slave or dead, what would you do to protect them and guarantee their safety?  I ask this because this is what Black parents have wondered as soon as, if not much before, their child steps one foot out of the houses into that unforgiving and very racist White Man’s World. The Black Woman is indeed the most precious as well as the most abused woman in this planet, the true Atlas yet I was amazed by what I saw today.
Although there is lots of hate out there, there’s also lots of love and I saw that as Black women stood up, not just this Father’s Day but other years as well, whenever the call arose.
       While others pointed out criminal convictions, they pointed out that these men, were fathers and pillars of their communities.  I watched the Black family in many forms, nuclear as well as modern, kin as well as stranger, come together to stand up for future generations as well as the brotha on the corner selling cigarettes that could have passed knowing too many of us saw faces of evil as they breathed their very last.  So we need soldiers to combat hate and fight the good fight so that our children might never have to raise a fist, to protect the ones thrown at them.  I couldn’t bear the thought of not being there for my children and loved ones.  Just trying to imagine what that would be like is not a nightmare I want to visualize thus I cannot even fathom the idea.

      Unfortunately there are thousands if not millions of African men that were ripped away from their families either on their way to the New World or through kidnapping, murder, or this new virus of Jealousy, Hate with Greed. Me giving thanks for being here isn’t even the half of it as I struggled to communicate with my twelve year old, who is already sad about the COVID realities, that it’s “just not safe out here for us.” (Below are pictures of George Floyd, Oscar Grant and Reyshard Brooks with their daughters)




I used to look at this American Crafted holiday of Father’s Day as another Hallmark ploy for sales and economy boosting.  I can no longer look at it that way for my life, our lives are much more valuable that any words or phrases Hallmark can print. Every year, as the plight of the Son’s and Daughters of slaves gets pushed under the rug, so does the fabric of Freedom itself. The seriousness of what it means to be a Black Father or a Black Mother, to date, is the most challenging and yet the most profound, noble, and powerful responsibility in human history.  The fact is that this past day, the one where we honor our fathers, is now sadly a Trophy of Our Black Survival, as “I made it alive to spend this day with my family and my children.”
     
       I am thankful even for what I saw on social media, as I saw classmates from all levels of schooling, with their own children, fishing, BBQing, cooking Father’s Day meals and even watching the joys others had, like when my boy Alvin shared the joy of his son eating Eloté corn with what looked like hot Cheetos on top.  These are the moments actions which build a community, although we are far and only close by way of our telecommunication devices.  I saw my friends with their fathers as well and was reminded what those Black men must have gone through just so that we could be here.  We only know struggle and hardship when it is brought directly to our doors, as in many cases, struggle is the norm.  If we are still here throughout the Mid-Atlantic slave passages, torture, rape, murder, dismemberment, fed to animals, burned alive, drawn and quartered, tarred and feathered, hanged, branded, chased, bred, abused, psychologically messed with to the point where it perpetuates over ten generations removed from the harshest trauma imagined, we are truly here for a divine reason.

       We are simply told when we were Young that “there will be challenges,” yet in many other phrases commonly heard like “life ain’t peaches and cream,” and so forth.  To accept the challenge and gift of being a strong Black parent is nothing short of heroic.  Walk proudly and let us teach our future Kings, Queens, Geniuses, Billionaires, Scientists, Professionals and Astronauts that with fierce determination against all forces and odds, that our Creator has invested in us that we can and will be anything that we truly want to be.  Here’s to real freedom and whatever that flavor tastes like.  I've left a poem below so enjoy!

Only mothers can know the strength which resides in a hopeful possibility
Not even us fathers can fathom the will to carry and even lose a child
There are those that hold no worries
For their destinies were carefully crafted, stolen
Prepared and procured, purposely for them and prestige… and then…
There are men
Ripped from the existence they fought so hard to keep
Whom may never again feel water flow or the amazing strength of the wind
As some were strung up by their necks and limbs others
Shot like criminals or enemy combatants in a war
When we have been patient to the point of no longer trying to keep score
But we want our daughters and son’s to live another day to greet the sun
So when days like this pass, I hold fast and hold them tight… like...
A Black teenager, bright child of a mother or father doesn’t want to let go
Off into the night, now an argument ensued so we let show
How damn scared and afraid for them and how far we have let things get thus far
Too distracted by what’s spilling on the concrete to be focused on the stars
So we fight and live with the strongest love given
Until we are called by force or by grace to sit proud where our ancestors are