Babylon Falling

For diehard Rastafarians, the fall of Babylon means the fall of the New Roman Empire, America suggesting that greed, corruption and police state will be forced to make way for simplicity, transparency and spiritual awakening. With our nation's economics going asunder, along with Bush and other white collar criminals having betrayed their own, it should be obvious we've gone so far off from sanity that there's no other choice now but to return to basics. Take this past Christmas, for instance. Shoppers had to wrestle with the decision to either risk getting killed by Black Friday mobs or be more introspective and give, instead, of themselves without the help of materialistic offerings or bling...

And there was the presidential election that not only introduced us to a seemingly larger than life candidate but also allowed the People themselves to have their say, even if the truth is that Whites generally voted against betrayal rather than give allegiance to an astute politician with a darker skin complexion and an exotic upbringing...

But here we are, two weeks before this long-awaited historical inauguration, and we're still trying to decide whether we should continue shopping as we face what some are calling the second Great Depression-- a gift Bush and his cronies left at the White House door for Obama to clean up...

Gary Zukav, spiritual advisor and motivationalist will tell you this is in no way the end of USA but the end of self-serving, narrow-minded thinking; that we're now at a point where we're forced to accept, as Americans, that we don't run the world, contrary to what we've been taught in grade school and in our living rooms...

and in these here times not only are we being challenged politically to think outside of our comfort zone, but our very definitions of what Black, White, marriage, sexuality, man, woman, professional, thug, friend, enemy, ugly, and beautiful are drastically being redefined as we move towards the 21st century...

Even Black Republicans have had to re-evaluate their party membership after seeing how painfully out of touch and exclusive their tribe's image was being portayed (or revealed), as in "Hey, he's not one of us. He's a Muslim!" while Muslim American soldiers are risking their lives overseas to keep us all safe...

And, of course, the Governor of Alaska who reminds me of--sorry, gotta say it but you know I'm right--Britney Spears teaching political science!!! Yea, the woman is sexy. I'll give her that. But Vice President of these united states? And now maybe even President, come 2012? Is it that good ol' White American denial again? The same avoidance of historical facts boys and girls are taught in our public school system? Or is it merely more of the same fluff mentality that we're now being forced to address, whether we like it or not?...

Forward-thinking, less ego-driven pastors, imams and rabbis are more in line with Zukav's ministry because they see more value in the things that make us all similar than on matters that divide us as children of God...

They, too, see the need for us to think outside the box. Just as our President-elect obviously does by making CNN's Sonjay Gupta our new Surgeon General and Leon E. Panetta as new CIA Director. The fuss over Gupta alone is less about capability and more about not fitting in with so-called professional standards. In other words, He ain't one of us!...

And though it's obvious that the Panetta choice is to directly address the whole matter of torturing prisoners of war, he too is getting some heat for not having CIA experience, but wasn't that the whole point? To bring in talent that can help bring about change, not only in the way Americans see themselves and the world around them but in the System itself?...

To do away with the concept of Republican vs. Democrat vs. Independent, even if it's just for the next four to eight years?...

While listening to Black investors, especially, who lost mad loot due this financial crisis, it occured to me that the common denominator is fear. Fear of losing a certain lifestyle, fear of adapting to a new one, fear of having to re-evaluate the purpose of capitalism, fear of what the children will think and do as a result of their parents not being able to keep up with ice videos...

Fear, fear, fear when it should be spirit, love, gratitude...

It's a sign of the times (and our on-going inner-conflict between being American or African) when you react to the obvious and forget to count on the unseen for comfort. The loss of faith, even with the promise of a new leader whose name in Swahili means The Blessed One, somehow negates all hope...

But when I see my dreds selling hand-made items across the street from Macy's, appearing unmoved by the threat of losing what was never theirs, to begin with, particularly since the retail industry never wanted dreds around anyway, not even as security guards (Rastas don't make good snitches)...

I'm reminded that, as a race, we are still resourceful, still self-reliant when we dare to remember what comes most natural to us, and how deceptive this whole notion of wealth and success can be...







And when I hear about young Whites in San Francisco being bullied and arrested for protesting the killing of yet another innocent African American male, it gives me hope that we're at least moving towards that authentic post-racial place where people of all skin colors can come together in the name of ending racism and police brutality...

It's that same sense of hope that allows me to look beyond limitation, beyond White and blue, and sometimes even Black...


to remember to be thankful for what little I may have, rather than be upset over loss or want. For to complain about what we don't have is to waste what we do have. And I'm not sure one needs to be African or Rasta to get that!

Christmas or Kwanzaa? Does it Even Matter Anymore?

In my 20s, especially during my years at City College in Harlem under the tutelage of Dr. Leonard Jeffries, I and other newly africentric kats and dolls vehemently celebrated Kwanzaa, although we secretly missed decorating our Christmas trees but never said a word, afraid of appearing politically unconscious. It was the 1980s and night time soap operas like Dynasty and Dallas were helping Reagan turn the disco phase into a more formal state. So to us, Kwanzaa was the perfect weapon against a bling machine that rejected simplicity and self-reflection; more specifically, pride for one's African ancestry. Even with the emphasis of the times moving from free expression to fear of non-conformity, we still called one another brotha and sista as a way of reminding ourselves of the collective pact we made as students of the latest Black Movement. We were too young back then and way too impressionable to realize that the African clothes we proudly wore and the intoxicating lingo that came with it would soon become a phase in itself. Sister Souljah's No Disrespect had caused a well-deserved fuss but not enough to stop young honies from encouraging wanna-be thugs to literally show their asses! And even while Sean Combs' peeps were trying to pack in more than the allowed number of students in a campus hall that ended up causing some to lose their lives, we never anticipated the bling machine taking a turn for the worse; we didn't think Hip Hop would be hijacked by greedy businessmen who could care less about the plight of poor Black people or how Blacks are portrayed in the media. We also didn't think there'd be a mass rejection of authentic sub-Saharan culture and pride by American Blacks themselves. We just didn't see it coming.

Fast forward to present day when Rap connoisseur, Nas has issues with Hip Hop going from community-first to ice pop. But by this time most Black folks ain't feelin' his call for spiritual restoration. Too much money at stake and just not enough market for critical thinking. That's if you leave out the likes of Common, Mos Def, The Roots, Kanye, and Lupe Fiasco. And there lies Kwanzaa somewhere between the death of true Hip Hop and the abandonment of Dr. Maulana Karenga's gift to us.

Of course, there're still a few die-hards out there who are keeping The Seven Principles alive. But here's my challenge to them-- Do we really need Kwanzaa to show unity, self-determination, collective responsibility, cooperative economics, purpose, creativity, and faith? No disrespect; and I'm not just repeating a book title. But just like our fraternities and sororities, and even masonries, for that matter, that only end up dividing us even more, do we really need cliques as reasons to come together and for having each others' backs as a people? Shouldn't it be a given that we're all in this together? That our actions reflect our solidarity no matter what religion we subscribe to, which economic class we look like, or whether we're light-skinned or dark-skinned? I don't mean to suggest that Kwanzaa should simply be done away with because I understand why it needed to be introduced, in the first place. I'm just askin', Do we need seven days to behave in a way we ought to be behaving every day? Do I have to be part of an organized gang before getting any love? Is Kwanzaa still the answer to our self-esteem problems, or does it come down to who got the power to push what?

I'm not gonna speak for my transpotted classmates who now could care less about Umoja and Kuumba. Not when they're too busy being American. But here's why I don't celebrate Kwanzaa--

1) Hood formality dictates that my homies and I give the first sip of beer or liquor to those who crossed over;

2) I pray to those before and after me, with the total belief that they guide and protect me from those who may want to cause me harm;

3) I believe in pan-African unity, even if R Kelly and Mugabe are an embarassment;

4) I write books and give workshops for the sole betterment of our people with no apology, and sometimes with no tangible compensation;

5) I encourage those of us who use our neighborhoods as trash cans to consider the word ghetto as merely a group of people who not only look alike but share the same values, and then I ask them what their values are;

6) I define myself not by the limitations we place on ourselves, but by my ability to think beyond victimization and internalized racism;

7) Even when my own kind disses me, I still show ethnic pride!

If you ask most Blacks what the seven principles of Kwanzaa are they usually can't come up with the first one. With so much emphasis on bling these days and the music videos that bring it, it's hard to expect otherwise. Not to mention our nervous allegiance to Christianity, although behind closed doors we find ways to fight back by still giving honor to our collective plight. And anyway, wasn't it Brother Minister Malcolm who said you can't be both african and american? That the two contradict each other, like we vs I, us vs me?

No matter how much we try incorporating Kwanzaa into our psyche, Black Friday still manages to win out! Seems to me the way to go about keeping this tradtion alive--if we even want to call it a tradition--is to simply allow it into our daily lives so that it's not such a foreign thing whenever its official date comes around. You know, like Jewish folks do.

Merry Christmas, everyone
and an even Happier New Year!....Ashe

Open Mic at Sister's

I've read at other spots where the vibe is so siddity that the audience just sits there like Black republicans at an Obama rally! But at Sister's Uptown Bookstore & Cafe da vibe is always fam and real, with pan-African books and art against the walls that invite you to browse and let go of any type of pretense.

This past Thursday I stopped by to promote my second book, The Dredlocks Tree and brought along some of my students to read their own work. Not only did they represent but the audience turnout was more than we had anticipated. Not even an evening rain stopped folks from coming. Below are some photos from the event--


MC and griot, Bro. Steve who also blessed us with his songs.


Actor/poet David 'D-Black' Roberts had us laughing 'til it hurt!








Yohance Murray--Doctor Murray, that is-- came thru just to show quiet support, then shocked us all when he decided to jump in and read a gut-wrenching piece he wrote about teen pregnancy.






We all teased him at the end saying it's always them quiet ones who end up stealing the show!


An audience member obviously moved by Murray's poem.


Like I said, the youth represented big time! This is Lawrence. He thought we were going to let him get away with just one piece 'til we said, Hell no! We wanna hear another one!


I like this photo, especially. It's a typical Ocean Morisset with both light and speed moving through the reader's hands!


Jason, another one of my students. He was nervous, at first, but then once he began he was kickin' it to us like a pro!


Jason and his mother. It was her first time seeing him read and she was showing mad pride!


Another upcoming poet representing the Urban Juke Joint downtown.


Bro. Steve introducing the next reader coming up as the audience looks on.


Standing room only in the back!


Bro. Steve introduces Jadon who won 1st prize at last week's BMCC's poetry slam that I helped put together.


Poetry is spirit trying to get at something...


Hand clapping for Jadon.


This kat took us back to ol' skool with his Trans Europe Express piece...."From Be Bop to Hip Hop and back to new Pop!..."




D-Black and me pose for a shot.


Murray and me. We actually work together; and it was a special treat for me to see a whole other side of this good brotha!


This sista from Sierra Leone brought the house down with her piece on the atrocities of children in Africa being kidnapped and forced into slave labor for the sole benefit of diamond smugglers and our insatiable appepite for bling...."While you in the West use your legs and arms to dance, we here whose limbs have been cut off..." Well, you get the point. She had us hollering and stomping our feet...




...so much that it was feeling like church up in there!!!




One of my street sons, Logic and Conscious Roots Bobby who designed my book cover.


The lovely Sachelle, a future Phd who can appreciate grassroots research.




Bro. Steve and Dr. Joy, our neighborhood folk storyteller who dropped in to close the event.


And yea, I read too with my latest book in hand. Morisset caught me giving my 'Sometimes Black folks just get on my damn nerve' face while I was reading my piece Black Man Scared.




An enthusiastic fan invites me to an upcoming open mic.


Bro. Steve and I talk shop.


Group shot with Murray and some of our students.


Algeria on my mind....but it's really Houston and 6th...Only in New York!!!

That One for President!

No poetic fortitude this time around. Just words of profound thankfulness for our White American allies who refused to allow fear to guide their decision in this historical presidential election, along with the mass of Black and Brown people--our youth, especially--who came out to vote; some, like my daughter, for the very first time....Toussaint, Garvey, Jackie, Martin, Malcolm, and now Barack. We keep coming back and coming back, coming back and coming back for spirit never dies. Only the ability to look beyond walls and barbwires!!!

Ashe