WHAT’S THIS LUMP IN MY THROAT?

I’ve  been walking around all week long with this tremendous lump in my throat as though I want to cry or something.  I’ve been helping an aunt of mine look for another place to live and I’ve learned a few lessons along the way I didn’t want to learn.  For instance, I’ve learned that as a Black American there are still more than a few people out there that dislike us so much, that it nearly borders on hate.  And in some cases outright HATE.  I’ve had to face the fact that yes—there is still DISCRIMINATION AND PREJUDICE going on in this cold and cruel world.  What has puzzled me all the more is this hate that is spewed at us from non whites.  Or honorary white people (as I like to call them). You’d think they would be more compassionate due to the discrimination that is heaped on them—but no  I hate to say this,  they are the worst. 

At the risk of sounding feeble and pandering some of my best friends are honorary white people.   I was born and raised in San Francisco so my friends always covered the spectrum.  I’ve always said, if roaches could talk they’d probably say something like this:    ”I DON’T WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH  THEM NIGGERS!”. Everyone has the nerve to think that they are better than us.  It never ceases to amaze me how people who come from other countries might not be able to speak a lick of English, but I believe they go to seminars to learn how to say one word very clearly in English—NIGGER!  Not ‘HELLO’,  Not ‘GOODBYE’.  But ‘NIGGER’.  Than again, being hated is not all bad.  In my mind we must be something pretty special for everyone to hate on us so much.  Normally, I am not this sensitive.   But this past week has been one filled with sorrow for the way things might have been. While I’ve experienced discrimination in one form or another throughout my lifetime, I’ve always said ‘THAT’S THEIR PROBLEM, NOT MINE.” because as I mentioned previously, I knew good and darn well that no one was better than me or me better than them, for that matter. 

I’ve always hated that saying about being “COLORBLIND”.  Well for your information God in Heaven is definitely not Colorblind.  All you have to do is look around and see the variety.  Variety is the Spice of life.  And if God wanted only white people, that’s all He would have created.  So in your face!  Anyway, my sensitivity could very well be due to the premature demise of Michael Jackson.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked upon learning of his exit out of this world.  I felt very Sad.  I watched every tibit of news about him that I could get (even though I pretty much knew a lot about him already) until I overloaded.  I played some of his ‘jams’ and walked down memory lane.  Remembering where or what I was doing when a particular song came out. 

Remembering how crazy I was when the ‘Jackson 5′ hit the scene.  How my room had posters on every inch of wall (I was particular about Jermaine really).  How my best friend had the nerve to TELL(?!) her parents that she was going to the ‘Jackson 5′ concert that was in town.  Not requesting could she go (you don’t tell a Black parent nothing!).  I felt sad that all of that talent was just gone.  DEATH is so final.  I HATE DEATH.    I thought about how he wouldn’t get a chance to redeem himself and how I wished I could have known him personally and prayed with him.  I was already praying  for him hoping that he knew God because God already knew him.  I was sad AND mad at this world at how sometimey it is.  I watched the world pour out their grief for a guy that was born a Black man but who somehow grew to hate himself and wanted to be something that God didn’t intend for him to be—A WHITE WOMAN.  I always did say that he was possessed by a white woman spirit that inhabited his body and was forcing him to make his physical body conform (my friends and family always laughed when I said this but I was/am dead serious). 

I marvelled at how some of these same people who would call a regular black person (like me)  the N -word in a New York minute without missing a beat and how they were loosing their minds over someone who was born (drum roll) a BLACK MAN!  The grief for some has gotten so bad that they’ve resorted to killing  themselves (12 at the last count).  And yet, the average Black man or woman will continue to have indignities visited upon them all because of the color of their skin by these very same brokenhearted people.  It’s ironic that all of this soul searching of mine has taken place on INDEPENDENCE DAY. That’s why I have a lump in my throat.