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“Maybe we’ll never get to fly. But hopefully, one day, We’ll do much more than float. We’ll learn how to swim.” https://www.instagram.com/p/CEUwcRsp3al/?igshid=1n27346a49xmn

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Dancing brings us closer to the ancestors 🤘🏿

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“The narrative is changing, yes. But that is exactly what justice looks like.” Check out my article on Medium! https://www.instagram.com/p/CDcMCbNgGLi/?igshid=1j2dp6vwi829l

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Tell me about it 🤦🏿‍♂️

Focus on one project at a time? Finish a project before starting another? Blasphemy.

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Visibility Is Pressure

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We Were Drowning, Part 1

We were drowning

We were baptized into the cursed Atlantic

Where the screams of our ancestors can still be heard

They dropped us in the middle of it and told to stay afloat

We were drowning

 Our love was weighed down by the “isms”

The weight of our trauma was too much 

I reached out to you because I couldn’t bear to witness

The icy waters extinguish your fire

 It hurt way too much to see you sinking

I said, let me be your life jacket

You said the same

Hold on to me

 And we clung on to each other

trying to stay afloat in a world neither of us asked to be born in

cursed centuries before we existed,

as soon as the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria 

troubled peaceful waters

 I made you believe I could save you

That you needed me

That I could take you away, and that we could sail the azure skies, where I could give you the moon, stars, and everything you deserved

 You held onto me for dear life

 And as much as I wanted to put on my cape

Take you and fly away to a better place

I forgot that I was sinking, too

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Writer’s Block sucks man...

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“Yes, Visibility is important. But visibility is not salvation. “ #blackwritersofinstagram #blackwriters #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #blackcreatives #blm #hiphop #culture https://www.instagram.com/p/CCd6b3EAVb1/?igshid=14z9p74znuihs

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Koupe Tet!

Koupe tet, boule kay! (Chop off heads, burn houses!) This was the rallying cry for the only successful slave revolution in modern history, the Haitian Revolution. To this day, the greeting “sak pase” (what’s up) is responded with “nap boule” or “we burning (houses)”. It was with this ethos, not respectability, that Black folks on a small Caribbean island overturned both colonialism and slavery at the same time.

So many are quick to invoke “civility” to police Black expression. Appealing to the empathy of oppressors will never bring liberation.

It is the destruction of the old that creates possibility for the new. 

We’ve been told to do things “the right way” for so long. Now it’s time to do what’s right. By any means necessary.

It’s deeper than George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, or the countless other victims of state-sanctioned violence. It’s about a society where Black suffering is the norm, a system that prioritizes private property over Black life.

It’s not “one bad cop”, but the society that made him feel comfortable enough to kneel on a man’s neck on camera, in his own city, in front of bystanders desperately telling him to stop, fearing no repercussions at all.

If you know anything about American history, or about the history of colonialism and imperialism globally, you know who the real thugs have always been.

To Black people, do what you need to take care of yourselves during this trying time.

To Allies, we need you now more than ever. Don’t speak for us, but amplify our voices. 

To America, remember that roosters ALWAYS come home to roost.

With all that being said, Koupe tet! Boule kay!

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It’s hard to find God, when you ain’t never seen him. There’s a pie in the sky and bodies on the cement.

Ab Soul 

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Faker Than Snow on Tha Bluff

2014 was perhaps the best year of J Cole’s career.

Like now, that summer was a summer of unrest. Protests erupted not only in Ferguson, but in various cities across the country, in response to the police murder of an unarmed black man. The #BlackLivesMatter movement had reached national consciousness. They demanded justice against Darren Wilson, the murderer, and an end to police brutality.

While most celebrities remained silent, J Cole was eager to show his support. He showed his face at the Ferguson protests, in a show of solidarity. After that, he dropped one of his most memorable singles, “Be Free”. It wasn’t a usual J Cole song. Not only was he singing on it, but it was much more raw: a sad cry of frustration in response to the familiar spectre of Black death. It was melancholic; it was serious; it shed light on how many were feeling. He even performed the track on Late Night with David Letterman. A few months later, he dropped Forest Hills Drive, his magnum opus,  and cemented his status as the quintessential “conscious” rapper. Many hip hop heads looked to Cole as a leader, a role model, an example for what rappers should strive to be. He became a voice for our generation.

Six years later, history would repeat itself. Again, the police killed another unarmed black man. In fact, other police murders came to light around the same time: Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, to name a few. Protests sprang up all over the country. 

But this time, it was different. As days rolled by, the list of names grew and grew. The protests swelled more and more, reaching critical mass. Their demands were more far-reaching: defund the police and an end to white supremacy. Antagonized by police forces, these protests often turned to violent clashes. Despite this, more and more people showed out. What began in the city of Minneapolis became a global movement, of black people fed up with a world that doesn’t value their lives (and allies standing with them). It’s a moment that is both exciting and nerve-wracking. We haven’t seen this much momentum since the Civil Rights era. With this newfound leverage comes pressure: we don’t know when we’ll have a moment like this again.

Now, organizations and institutions rushed to make shallow demonstrations of support, if only to save face. Celebrities of all sorts tweeted messages of solidarity, some genuine, others to avoid public backlash. Statues are being taken down and streets renamed. But that only does so much. 

Like last time, J Cole put out a song, presumably about current events. But it differed from “Be Free”. Rather than a reflection on #blm, it reads like a confession: he has much more to learn; he isn’t the woke leader people make him out to be; he wants to do more but doesn’t know how. And in doing so, he asks the black woman in the song, in the most “respectful” way he could, to sweeten her tone and get him up to speed.

And as you can expect, the public received his new song…  differently this time. “Snow on the Bluff” itself became an enormous distraction, turning a long-deleted tweet into a social media firestorm.  

I will say this straight up: this wasn’t it, chief. 

And as a fan of J Cole, I’ll honestly say I’m disappointed.  This is how he broke his silence? The issue is less so with the message, or how respectful he’s being, but more so with how he’s using his platform. Now is not the time to check a black woman’s tone. Black people of all genders are ticked off right now, if you couldn’t tell. 

But bro… what did he do wrong? Didn’t he already make a song about this? Hasn’t he talked about these issues his entire career? He was being respectful: we don’t need another “Be Free”. 

Maybe another “Be Free” isn’t what’s needed now. There’s been so many bars about police brutality and black plight: would another “Fuck the Police” really change anything?

But it’s impossible to ignore how big a platform J Cole has. He’s the man who went triple platinum with no features. He has an army of stans who hang onto his every word. As a voice for a generation, duty calls. 

No one is asking him to become the spokesperson of the struggle. As Dave Chappelle said, “the streets are talking.” Activists on the ground, and educators who have done the reading are who we should listen to right now. The sheer size of Cole’s celebrity could drown out the voices of those on the ground. The communities in question can speak for themselves better than any platinum rapper can.

However, is that an excuse to stay silent? Or to be careless about how you use your platform?

The fact of the matter is this debate he sparked became more divisive than the tweet in question. Even if his intentions were pure, he unintentionally sicced his army of fans onto a fellow rapper who has been doing the work. (click here for more: https://www.nonamebooks.com/books) 

Imagine what good he could do if he had just used his platform differently. Imagine if, instead of throwing up his hands and saying that he didn’t have the answers, he uplifted the voices of those who might. 

It’s obvious that Cole cares deeply about these issues. He might do more behind the scene than we realize. But the question is, how can he do more with the voice and platform he has?

Yes, your commitment to the struggle shouldn’t be measured by how many tweets you post. But with great power comes great responsibility. This was a misuse of that power. 

Maybe it was wrong to expect or hope for more from Jermaine. Maybe we are witnessing the limit of the traditional “conscious” rapper. But it’s a question all of us are wrestling with right now: how can we do more?  It’s one Cole himself ponders at the end: 

“But damn, why I feel faker than Snow on Tha Bluff?

Well maybe ‘cause deep down I know I ain’t doing enough”