Whenever someone complains about how busy I seem to always be, points to the number of hours I spend toward making my dreams more than just a conversation piece or attempts to critique the decisions I have made and continue making that I believe will ensure my future and that of those I love, I become irritated, short-tempered and, if the conversations goes on too long, mere seconds away from hanging up the phone.
Sure, I recognize that Blacks in America have not been dealt a fair hand. Of course I understand our nation’s history and its centuries-old efforts, and insistence and dependence on white privilege that have collectively allowed for the establishment and survival of barriers, roadblocks, dead ends, propaganda, unjust legislation, firmly-entrenched bigotry and manmade mountains of unscalable heights — at least for Blacks who rarely have the tools required to keep from falling.
Thus, with the cards deliberately stacked against us, Blacks in the good old U.S.A, even after nearly 166 years since the abolishment of legalized slavery, continue to lag behind, unable to partake of the full benefits of citizenry allegedly guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution and illustrated by the rubric, “the American dream.”
But since no one with “the juice” required to invoke real, long-lasting change has yet to step up to the plate on our behalf, there’s no point in crying the blues to Mr. Charlie who could give a care anyway — except during those times when its’ time to cast our ballot in the voting booth. Nonetheless, we continue blaming everyone and anyone for our own failures. I am being too harsh for you? Then you have the option of returning to hours upon hours of nonsensical encounters on Twitter and ignoring the rest of my thoughts.
I, on the other hand, have a plan. And I cannot allow those who lack vision or refuse to admit the truth that stands before them like a towering redwood tree to get me sidetracked. The racism upon which this country was formed, and which still undergirds our hallowed institutions has not rendered me into a state of inertia. Neither has it forced me to lash out in vain — yielding to animal-like instincts to beat my wife and dog or pick up a bottle and a joint instead of a book in securing higher education.
As I grow closer to six decades of life, I realize that those who sit on the sidelines will be there for another 10, 20 — even 30 years from now. And they’ll be lamenting about what others have done to them, or not for them, instead of being honest about what they failed to do on their own behalf.
Are you dissatisfied with your life? Do you have a vision that the Spirit placed within you that you enjoy talking about but doing very little to achieve? Then, it’s not the white man who serves as your greatest enemy — it’s you. You are to blame.
As for those who prefer, like James Brown once said, to engage in “talking loud and saying nothing,” please, please, please … lose my phone number and forget my name. You see, like the sage Isley Brothers exclaimed back in the day, “I got work to do.”