J. Cole meeting Capt. Ron Johnson #ferguson
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J. Cole meeting Capt. Ron Johnson #ferguson
omg
If you had to run for your life, would you want to be welcomed somewhere safe? Speak out.
Police
Can we take a minute to talk about, not police brutality, but just the general reaction the American people have towards police. Black, White, Latino, Asian: it doesn't matter; we all have an initial, instant reaction went seeing a cop: Oh No. Why do we have to fear the people who are supposed to be protecting our rights and more importantly our lives? It's so unimaginablly twisted that this is how most people of the United States react to the presence of a police officer. We shouldn't fear our law enforcement, but respect them instead.
Says wants to "make America great again" and uses the 1950's as an example, but chooses to ignore that back then segregation and Jim Crow laws were in place and women were severely oppressed.
“A Dream So Close, Yet So Far” By Crystal Balvuena
Dear Daughter,
The thought of happiness never bloomed in my mind until the day I turned nine years old. Living in Mexico was as easy as making mud pies and sleeping. Bitterness never loomed in my shadow, nor did pain and suffering. I can still go in a time machine and see myself playing with my dolls. Being eight years old in Mexico was a paradise but soon this paradise soon got infected with plagues called stress, weariness, and frustration.
The day I turned nine, I moved to America. My uncle, aunt, and three cousins were my only family living in the U.S. since my parents had stayed in Mexico. I The one and only urging reason I came to America was because I wanted to go to a more sophisticated school with opportunities for my future. Dreams and my eagerness pushed me for wanting to read books, learn, and explore the world. My plan was straight and easy. Nothing could stop me from accomplishing a dream that was so close to becoming into reality. I could smell the sweet aroma of Successfulness and Victory. But, oh, how mistaken I was. "Easy" didn't exist in the new world I was living in.
The genesis of my dilemmas started on the first day of school. As I entered the classroom my palms were covered in sweat, but were anxious to hold a pen and write. Excitement seeped out of my body, trying to conquer the world with hope and jubilation. Unexpectedly, the teacher made an awkward sound. I quickly realized that the sound was English. They might as well put me in a classroom with the teacher being a dog, I had thought. A simple "Oh" was made by me, only meant for me to hear. This "Oh" was a sound emphasizing many emotions: frustration, disappointment, hopelessness and anger. (Mostly frustration). But most importantly, it was a sound of realization that I couldn't speak English, meaning that I couldn't learn anything. I sheepishly looked at my teacher when she spoke (which was most of the time). Not a word could be translated from English to Spanish. It was like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with many of the pieces missing. My embarrassment was shown through my strawberry cheeks.
I wanted to scream until no air was resting in my lungs. I wanted to hide in a corner and not be shaken by the reality that I couldn't learn because I couldn't speak English. I wanted to be held by mother’s warm hands that reassured me everything was going to be okay. The reality I wanted to be living in was engulfed by bitterness and darkness. This problem grew more colossal when I tried to say Thank you, Sorry, Stop, Where can I find this street? when I was alone in the streets. Isolated. With no parents to guide me. Those next few days were long roads of hell. But I worried that this problem was was only a glimpse of what was to come.
This stress accumulated so much I always decided to go to the park after school, but not to play but to stare at the ocean sky seeking for tranquility.
I would stare at cotton candy clouds swallowing the richness of the blue. Peacefulness always settled in when I did this. One day I found a comic book store and spotted Archie comic books. I absolutely adored reading those books back in Mexico. I used to read them over and over again, never getting tired of them. This memory resurrected my elation. Then out of the blue, when heading out the door of the store, I saw a billboard with a woman dressed in a black gown holding a diploma. Strength and hope was rejuvenated. Then weirdly, my memory and billboard somehow mixed and boiled together becoming my motivator to push on and learn English.
I joined a program that taught me English. Everyday I sweated out stress, frustration, and embarrassment when I improved in English. But I didn’t stop there, I asked my uncle for help and tutoring, and read uncountable books about galaxies and wizards. A year later, with diligent work, I knew how to read, write, and speak English. The heavy mist of stress and frustration circling me was obliterated.
You can take this letter and throw it on your kitchen table and just consider this as just another story. Or, you can make this your motivator and inspiration so when you get accidentally get glued into a path with burning problems, dissolving every inch of you, you can find that glimmering hope and determination.
Warmly,
Your mother, Lucy
By Crystal Balvuena AB
Lets help change the world!
The Social Issue
Often times uneducated and ignorant people scream the most absurd and untruth of people whose voices have been silenced. One cannot ban all Muslims from entering a country, once cannot scream we all are rapists and criminals. These foolish people think we are the problem, however, that don't realize they are the fuel that allow this fire to continue.
In the dictionary Racism is defined as a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race.
What are the causes of racism?
Racism begins within the individual, their self- consciousness, and the need to feel better or superior than others gives the person confidence and a sense of power. When the individual is able to grasp power they are afraid of losing it to people who are from different culture or race. In addition, racism is promoted through ignorant people who are uneducated of other cultures religions and values.
The roots of racism begins in the roots of slavery, Historic patterns of prejudice, discrimination, and racism. Colonialism, historic hostilities, and the slave trade contribute to modern racism. There are many causes of racism however there is no definite answer.
What are the effects of racism?
Racism affects the function of society and how people interact and communicate with each other. Racism can destroy individuals and ultimately destroy the world. Racism can lead to op racist countries in the world. Studies show that police are more likely to pull over and frisk blacks or Latinos than whites, for example people of color or who are considered “not white” live with less opportunity and disadvantages,after being arrested, African-Americans are 33% more likely than whites to be detained while facing a felony trial in New York. Also, in 2010, the U.S. Sentencing Commission reported that African Americans receive 10% longer sentences than whites through the federal system for the same crimes.
We are critiquing the superiority that still exists with the white race. How white people still have advantages over other races. We are critiquing the concept of racism and how it essentially dehumanizes people based on their race so therefore they are treated as the inferior class. We are also criticizing in everyones desire to “ be white” or to “look white” and how it robs the identity of peoples character and culture.extreme events like genocides. It leads to segregation and hatred amongst people. Racism affects every part of society, social media, government, politics, education (schools), wars and business, employment, jobs. For instance, Coca-Cola was originally marketed for whites, while Pepsi was marketed for blacks.
The United States so called “the free country,” the United Kingdom and Australia are the top three racist countries.
Minorities should not be “lower” than white people, all races should be equal.
Nuestra Cultura: African Influences on Latin American Culture
Historians have long known the history of slavery in Mexico. In truth, before the Spanish conquistadors had set foot on Mexican soil, slavery lived among indigenous Mexican tribes. Nonetheless, the Spaniard’s reliance on slavery in order to expand and grow their wealth heavily influenced the growth of slavery. Through the 16th and 17th centuries the indigenous population became plagued by disease and illness. Thus, African slaves were brought in as a replacement to work in the Mexican sugar fields and mines. Under strenuous conditions on the sugar plantations of coastal Veracruz, many slaves both African and Indigenous Indians were able to escape from their captors and flee into high mountain areas and find shelter in the jungles and canyons. In which they were able to create communities and families. African hero Gaspar Yanga led one of the most famous rebellion in Mexico around 1570. Yanga believed he was a member of the royal house of Gabon, Africa, he was able lead black slaves into a successful revolt. Under his stupendous leadership, many slaves were able to find shelter in the highlands of Veracruz. After 30 years of living in the mountains, with great leadership Yanga was able to negotiate a treaty with Spanish, achieving the freedom of the community. Up to this date the town lives in the heart of Veracruz. The mixing of blood occurred between the Spanish and Indigenous Indians of Mexico including African slaves. The first Africans in Mexico have greatly influenced Mexican culture. Afro- Mexicans have made enormous contributions to the country and deserve to be recognized for their accomplishments. They have been our heroes, leaders and liberators. For example, the famous carnival celebrated in Coyolillo in Veracruz has African origins. Mexico’s food, language and spiritual practices have been influenced by the descendants of black slaves. Many Afro-Mexicans live on the Pacific Coast in an area known as the Costa Chica region. Starting south of Acapulco extending for 200 miles. Afro-Mexican communities can also be found in the states of Guerrero, Oaxaca, Michoacán, Veracruz, Campeche, Quintana Roo, and the Yucatan.
Lies About Africa
"self discovery is more than gathering information about oneself. In the process of... discovering our story,”
http://www.iyli.org/blog
Identification as white is a logical choice for many Latinos/Hispanics. After all, Africa continues to be disparaged as a continent and portrayed as backwards and inferior to other regions of the world. The effects of 200 years of brainwashing are terrible in their profound and pervasive efficacy. When given the choice between identifying with a region considered to be backwards, and disease- and war-ridden, and a region thought to be illustrative of what is civilized and good, it is small wonder that many Latinos (and people of African descent overall) would choose affinity to Europe and almost any other cultural origin) over Africa (“I ain’t black, I’m Indian”).
Not a lot has changed since Kenneth and Mamie Clarks' doll experiments conducted between 1939 and 1940 on children's self-perception related to race (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_and_Mamie_Clark#Doll_experiments). The doll experiment involved a child being presented with two dolls. Both of these dolls were completely identical except for the skin and hair color. One doll was white with straight yellow hair, while the other was brown with curly hair. The child was then asked questions about which one is the doll they would play with, which one is the nice doll, which one looks bad, which one has the nicer color, etc. The experiment showed a clear preference for the white doll among all children in the study. These findings exposed internalized racism in African-American children, and self-hatred that was more acute among children attending segregated schools. The study was replicated with Dominican children, with much the same result (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/claudio-e-cabrera/dominican-colorism_b_3900808.html).
Negative attitudes toward Africa and black people have not always been so widely held. Prior to the 19th century, African and European states interacted as equals, with examples of exchanges of diplomatic missions and intricate trade and political relations. There is a long and well-documented history of relationships based on respect and European admiration for Africa. A few examples are Nile Valley Civilizations in the North, the Empires of Ghana, Mali and Songhay in the West, and Swahili city states and Great Zimbabwe in the East. What is important to stress is that the campaign against Africa grew out of economic interests of Europeans and the need to justify the subjugation of Africa and enslavement of its people. How can a Christian nation justify plunder, rape and enslavement? By dehumanizing the people . Thus, the campaign was launched to show that Africa was a “Dark Continent” and it was the responsibility of Europe to bring civilization (and religion). This is ironic since what Europeans actually brought with them was death, destruction, disease, exploitation and a holocaust unparalleled in the annals of human history.
All this matters. A person of African descent, with visible African features, who disparages and denies a cultural connection to Africa in fact denies an integral part of his or her identity. This cannot be psychologically healthy. Telling phrases have leapt into our vernacular, such as “bad hair,” “good hair,’ “suspicious hair,” grandmother in the closet,” etc. Dark skinned people in Latin America (and Africa) spend millions of dollars each year on skin bleaching products. Black people in Latin America and North America often decry any connection to Africa.
Fortunately, there is a counter to the pathology of self-hate. Thousands of Latinos and others of African descent have worked hard to destroy the negative stereotypes that have been inculcated through popular media, and our education system. Arturo Schomburg, Marta Moreno Vega, and Pedro Noguera are among these champions.
The International Youth Leadership Institute (IYLI) makes it possible for African American and Latino high school students to study and travel in Africa. Through these experiences students begin to overcome the stereotypes they have held about Africa. Before departure, when asked what they think about Africa, many of the students convey what they have learned – animals walking around, lack of roads and permanent buildings, war, disease, hunger. When they travel, meet the people, break bread together and interact on a one-to-one basis, they begin to see the insidious nature of the lies. They begin to recognize what is valuable and vibrant about African cultures – lessons that we can benefit from today. We have to do more to expose our children to the truth. Let’s decide not to make it the public education system’s responsibility!
In the book, "Writing for Your Life: Discovering the Story of Your Life’s Journey", Deena Metzger writes "self discovery is more than gathering information about oneself. In the process of... discovering our story, we restore those parts of ourselves that have been scattered, hidden, suppressed, denied, distorted, forbidden, and we come to understand that stories heal." (1992, HarperOne)
What is the American Dream For You? -Crystal Balvuena
In the living room, within the light brown walls is my mother sitting with both legs crossed on the soft blue couch, impatiently waiting. Her petite face pale and tired, slowly sipping the dark sugarless coffee, while watching daily news.
Jalisco, México
That is where I was born
In a small town miles away from la capital
And umm everyday I would walk to little cottage
To go to school
In my little sun kissed dressed
Under the breath of the sun
I was very smart
... you know already...
That is why you are smart too mi hija
I loved to read
Not like my sisters who would cry and beg not to go
You know the Archie Comics?
With Betty and Veronica?
I loved to read them
I would read them again and again
When I was like your sister age
Unlike you kids here
I thought like an adult
Here you guys are babies
But over there, we were thinking already how we were going to live
When I was twelve
And and I could not go to school anymore
I was sad,
I didn't want to work like a dummy
So when my older brother got married and left to go to the United States
I begged and I cry
I cry and I cry
Until your abuelita
Looked at me
And ask
“Dime porque te quieres ir?”
Tell me why do you want to leave?
And I said
“No puedo ir a la escuela aquí” I can't go to school here
“Quiero estudiar y aquí no puedo” I want to study but here you know I can’t
And my dad said
And I still remember
He told me
“Mi hija siempre fuiste la inteligente”
You know I was a dreamer,
I was eager
To learn and go to school
That is why you and your brothers need to know my story
I suffered a lot you know
That is why mi hija...
I'm doing this for you
Te doy mi sueño,
el sueño de todos que quisieran estar en tus pies.
That is why I give you my dream,
The dream of all
that would love to be in your feet.
To learn who rules over you, simply find out who you are not allowed to criticize
Voltaire
“There Is No Other Place Like Home Sweet Home” by Crystal Balvuena
The city of the world. All colors of the world united and mistified by the exuberant yet invisible glow planted in its concrete roots. High peaks of steel pushing over the clouds, glaring over the honking yellow taxis hungry for their next pursuit. From the suited white polished man rushing to its next special encounter to the young brown girl, lolling on the post anxiously awaiting for the arrival of her train to take her to her destination, her dreams. That brown girl is me.
Since the first beat of my heart, to the first time my lungs expanded and sucked in the New York air, the polluted air, the dreaming breeze, I was born a New Yorker. Born in a creamy warm day of July in ninety-nine, within the compact community of Little Italy, I was the first generation of native New Yorker from my family. My parents were always a constant reminder of the enchanting opportunities the city held in its palm, waiting for me to seize. But they also reminded me I could be swallowed whole by the city’s rapid demands for more and more. New York City is like balancing on a thin rope from mountain to valley, lean too far, mesmerized by the elegance of the landscape and fall into despair. Finding equilibrium on the rope, within the city is a true accomplishment like no other. Only the native can see deeper than its glistening lights and extravagance. New York City is more than this mystical world class place, it’s the place to admire the next level of fashionistas stroll around the avenues. It’s the only place you’ll be to witness fist-fighting cartoon characters in the congested streets of what some call the “five-block metaphor for New York City.” It is the only city where the abnormal is normal, where the unexpected is expected because you truly never know what you will run into. But it is also my home, my memories, the place where I initiated my journey. It is the only place where I sleep with loud raucous voices echoing through the tight walls of the cramped buildings through my room. Where the screech of the wheels against the tracks acts as my alarm to initiate my day. I knew of nothing else beyond the surrounding blue waters of New York City.
I never directly identified as a New Yorker because in my mind I already was and had no need to tell the world. I had already (and currently am) ridden the crazy roller coaster this city was. Loop after loop, uphills and downhills, throwing and smashing my spirit away and back. I had never left the city's borders until the last winter where I visited the Caribbean Island, homeland of reggae and the famous Bob Marley. It was until then I realized there was no other place like the Red Apple. Humid and tropical was the winter of Jamaica. It’s capital, overcrowded and hectic like New York City but with a skyline of the Blue Mountains hovering over the city. The hectic traffic back in New York City was no comparison against the chaotic and merciless vehicles prepared to crush anything and anyone in its way. I could walk for hours and hours more but I could not find the Mickey D's I could find in every corner of every street in New York City. As I later found out McDonalds did not exist in the island. The people spoke English, but I had to listen with both raised ears attentively, and there were times I could not fathom and other times they could not understand my words. It was not New York City’s language. I met a lot of people, some a pleasure to talk to and others not so much. I could not comprehend the way some of them thought and I could not agree with the words they spoke. At times disgusted with their ignorance and closed mind. I was a New Yorker. They were not. This place did not have New York’s people, it was not my liberal home.
I met two very clever kids whose names I can not recall. A New York City thing people do. They knew I was a tourist, they thought I was Korean, they guessed again, this time they said from England. I laughed, and I told them they were wrong. “I am from New York” is what I said mighty and proud. Of course their response was of amazement as I saw sparkles in their dark, bold eyes. They asked a lot of questions and I responded joyfully with pride. They friended me on Facebook, they followed me on Instagram. Then they saw my pictures, all of them showing moments of my life in New York City. “It looks like you have a lot of fun,” they told me with their heavy accents “I wish I could go there, it gets boring all the time here, there is nothing to do.” I was surprised by their response, it was an epiphany moment in which I realized only a few people could experience my lifestyle. A lifestyle which I took for granted every day. It was until I left the city that I realized how much I loved to blurt out I was a New Yorker to everyone I encountered. The pessimist will only think of it as overpriced and boisterous city, but only the natives of the city will fathom its uniqueness and special wonder. You are not a true New Yorker if you were not born there or lived there for most of your life. A true New Yorker understands the struggles and its perks. From the breakdancing crew performing a show in your subway car and being no longer delighted but knowing it would not be New York City without it, to the twin tower’s presence you feel but no longer remain. To many it's simply the best city in the world, but to me it is my home sweet home.
Cultural Unity of Africa
Michael Webb February 15, 2016 · It was the dawn of my teenage years and mom decided to ship me off to rural Ohio for the summer. I went alone though I was the middle of three sons. My oldest brother refused to go. The other was too young.
After growing up in Cleveland, Chicago, Detroit and Buffalo, the small town culture was quite a culture shock. Looking back on that time, I realize that it was, in effect, a reintroduction to African culture.
Like the majority of African Americans throughout the U.S., I experienced African culture everyday of my life, though like most I was unaware of it. In fact, growing up, how would I even know that many of the cultural aspects of daily life had a strong foundation in Africa despite being obscured by repression, time and geography.
Some of these aspects included the prevalence of an extended family, material solidarity (economic reliance on one another), idealism and optimism (even in the face of daunting social, political and economic oppression), and language (Black talk derives in part from the adaptation of English to the African system of pronunciation, morphology and syntax).
The first day I arrived in rural Ohio, I took a walk around the area around my relatives’ small house. I remember the expansive, grassy fields, abundance of trees, and quiet. Houses had lots of land between them. When I passed the first house, someone shouted out from the porch, “Where you going, boy?” When I continued to walk past without a reply, the speaker chastised me, saying “You too good to speak?” During my walk, some form of greeting emanated from nearly every porch or doorway. Not wanting to evoke the ire of the speaker, I learned quickly to respond. Many people followed up their greeting with questions about my well being and that of my family. I felt as though people knew I was coming and were waiting for me. The walk turned out to be a lot longer than I could have imagined.
That summer I experienced many of the dynamics that I would encounter many years later when I first visited Africa and lived in a rural community in Northern Nigeria. I have subsequently revisited those experiences in many African communities, in addition to the Caribbean and rural U.S. South. The expectation of extensive social interaction and engagement, even with strangers, is a strong, African cultural trait. African people engage in extended greetings that encompass inquiries about family and well-being. I am often reminded that visiting African communities, especially in rural areas, is very much like visiting down south.
Cheikh Anta Diop, one of the greatest scholars and intellectuals of the twentieth century, wrote a book, The Cultural Unity of Africa. In it, he described the cultural paradigms that distinguish African culture from the Mediterranean to the Cape of Good Hope. Diop asserted that the African peoples shared a common set of cultural characteristics, among them language roots, and patterns of social relationships.
African cultures are diverse and reflect the vastness of the continent, requiring us to exercise considerable restraint when making generalizations or stereotypes. The same applies when discussing the impact of African cultural traditions on the people of the African Diaspora, including North, Central and South America, and the Caribbean.
However, when Africans were enslaved and brought to this hemisphere, they didn’t suddenly lose their cultures, including language. They adapted to survive. The cultures did not die but evolved, often in subtle ways, and took on new manifestations that are still reflected in our communities today. We can see the vestiges of this evolution in extended family, the prevalence of fictive kin (play cousins, uncles and aunties not related by blood), economic co-dependency, language (such as Gullah and Creole, and what some scholars call Ebonics and others African American Vernacular English), patterns of behavior (rap as an easy and natural reflection of one’s standing out but also in the context of being part of a group; call and response reflected in church and spiritual music).
Segregation, whether voluntary or involuntary has been (and is) the engine that has sustained these influences over time, though the origins of African American culture may have been forgotten.
Diop’s work has raised a good deal of controversy, both during his lifetime and up to the present. The ideas espoused by Diop about African cultural unity are relevant today, especially in light of the constant assaults on the integrity of African cultures and efforts to denigrate Africa and reduce the important role that the continent continues to play.
In an obituary following the death of Cheikh Anta Diop in 1986, Babacar Sall wrote, “By highlighting the historical continuity beneath the cultural achievements of black African societies, and by emphasizing among other realities, the cultural unity of the black peoples and our civilizations, Africa's schools of history will restore to Africans at home and abroad our lost historical consciousness. Such a historical consciousness is an indispensable defense against cultural assimilation, against social alienation, against the now pervasive threat of fatalistic resignation, against the drift into anomie. In sum, a people's historical consciousness, once liberated and energized, is a sure driving force in the human struggle for life.” (June 2, 1986 edition of West Africa (pp. 1160-1162).
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