It is no wonder
So many brown-skinned young men
are angry as hell
(c) Chandra Montgomery 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
"Despicable Me": Race, Resentment, & Trayvon or Open Letter to Some of My White Friends
You see – black folks are tired. In fact, we are downright weary at the relentless siege on our boys and men.
I am not a criminal jurisprudence expert, but what seems clear to me – beyond the malfeasance of law enforcement in Sanford, FL and the piss poor performance of the prosecution team in this case – is that perhaps - tragically, ‘not guilty’ is the only verdict at which those unenviable white female jurors could have arrived. What we now know is that the laws and statutes of Florida will undoubtedly always favor the aggressor in the use of deadly force (except you know, when it doesn’t - like the case of Marissa Alexander). Notwithstanding the absurdity of Alexander’s sentence – Florida’s pro-gun, pro-deadly force, Stand-Your-Ground posture is a legal, moral, and cultural issue with which the people and legislature of the Sunshine State must contend. And so, the injury – pain – outrage – horror – atrocity of Trayvon Martin’s fate and George Zimmerman’s subsequent delayed arrest and criminal trial is the pervasive, repugnant impulse on the part of so many to not only give Zimmerman the benefit of the doubt, but to actually demonize an unarmed teenager who was senselessly and needlessly approached, provoked, and murdered. This is not conjecture – there is audio to support this position. Just as there was damning video in the case of Rodney King.
What is so distressing to me is the glaring unwillingness, on the part of some, to acknowledge and address the substance of the racial dimensions of what happened 16 months ago. What aches is the certain knowledge that so many white Americans, with whom my demographic has grown up, studied, worked and in many instances grown close to - appear to default to a position of convenient amnesia. There have been expressions of contempt and a dismissive devaluation of Trayvon Martin’s life that is hard to wrap my head and heart around. I have seen more compassion bestowed upon shelter dogs than this poor dead child. He has been labeled a “thug” and painted as a threatening menace who essentially asked for the fate he was dealt. The impulse to identify and sympathize with an aggressor who at the very least suspected, followed, approached, and incited an innocent teen (innocent – you know - as in, he was just walking in the rain, minding his business, not committing a crime or carrying a weapon) before he drew his firearm and shot him dead seems to me unconscionable. The shameful suggestion that race did not factor into the equation. The fervor and swiftness with which folks jumped at the opportunity to malign a kid; to hint or outright assert that he got what he deserved. The need to transform Trayvon in death from a slain teenager into the quintessential, negative black male archetype (read also ‘stereotype’) – brooding, threatening, violent, and angry…well, it’s enough to turn my stomach. And I am truly tired of it. I am tired and at this point outraged at the lack of humanity and injustice shown to this college-bound pup of a man and his grieving family.
As the mother of a recent high school graduate, it’s safe and quite appropriate to refer to him as a kid or child. That is exactly how I view the young men with whom my daughter has grown up and matriculated through school. They are teetering on a tightrope between childhood and manhood – making their way, but none of them strike me as men. Not one. They are white, black, Asian, Hispanic and despite their height and deepened voices, in so many ways they are still boys. And did I forget to mention - there is facial hair, for goodness sake? It actually makes me giggle… and yet – they are babies, still. Experimenting with all manner of adult intrigues: sex, alcohol, drugs – you know, the kind of shit that virtually everyone experiences to some extent during their ascent through adolescence. Surely we must all remember.
Except that is not the judgment and compassion that I see exacted on the memory of this slain boy. No – instead, there is the quick presumption of culpability and a piercing vitriolic indictment of this crime’s victim that hums with racially charged undertones. Pulitzer-prize winning columnist, Eugene Robinson, spoke to the perilous tightrope that black boys must traverse in a recent Washington Post editorial. Young black men who are still evolving and growing seem somehow denied the latitude that their white friends so easily enjoy. Trayvon: the menacing, despicable “thug” because his fight/flight instinct engaged exactly as it was supposed to at the sign of threat and hostility that was demonstrated by Zimmerman (this too, audio recorded). Funny though, the last time I checked, thugs don’t pose for pictures while their dads kiss them on the cheek.
I am not the mother of a black boy, but I am an auntie to three and a godmommy to five (two officially – three unofficially). It is a devastating blow to know in real-time HD the kind of world these beautiful, smart, funny, imperfect little boys will face…if they make it. That they will encounter hostility and preconceived notions about their character and intentions. That they will almost always be perceived as a threat. That they will never get the benefit of the doubt. That their accomplishments will be tarnished by the speculation of unmerited favor. That their stumbles will be enlarged by the pronouncement of inevitability. This is what despair feels like. And for the majority in the U.S. – you will never know this kind of pain; these cycles of hopelessness and helplessness. You don’t have to wonder what it’s like to occupy any other subject position than your own. And quite frankly it seems as if you could not care less. It’s not necessarily an indictment; I recognize that your position of superiority wasn’t achieved by fault or merit. It simply is what it is.
Understand this: black people in particular are angry, hurt, and disgusted at the response to the verdict more than the actual verdict because we are tired of being told that our children’s lives don’t matter. We are tired of the excuses. We are tired of being written off. We are tired of the betrayal of this country’s promise. The very country that was built on our [ancestors'] free labor backs. We are tired of being told to get over it. We are tired, friends. Tired. Tired. Tired. We are tired of being fed the bullshit narrative about how easy it is to be us and about who we are and what we hold dear. We are tired of the notion that somehow at the core we are somehow “less than”. You know… “black people…, smh”. We are tired of everyone talking about how much we need to have an honest, open conversation about race and the racial disparities that persist -- and yet the conversation remains perpetually paused. We are tired of being accused of playing the race card while the defense team asserts that if George Zimmerman had been black, there would not have been a trial. Really??? That’s the bullshit we get? Here’s a little smack of reality. Watch just ONE episode of “First 48” on A&E and then get back to me on whether or not there would have been a trial. And then, imagine if you can the parallel universe wherein a George “Jenkins” could have killed an unarmed “Tyler” Martin with a similar outcome. Imagine calling a 17 year old, unarmed white boy a “thug” and saying with smug arrogance that he got what he deserved. If right now, you find yourself making excuses or adjusting the hypothetical dynamics because certain aspects would have most certainly had to be different. Well, then… that is exactly the point.
Black folks are not a monolith, but on this I am fairly certain: We. Are. Tired. And we are tired of that damned invisible knapsack that so many pretend doesn’t even exist.
But this is not about white guilt or black rage. This is about understanding. Our combined legacies are fraught with so much tension and angst; it is hard to imagine how we get through this. It’s hard to imagine how we grow from this. How do we heal? How can we? I do not have any answers but for once, I wish that folks I have come to like and respect would stop disappointing me with this narrow, fictional view of the world. That you would seek to understand where I come from and how I feel. Please, do not default to divisive theories and suppositions of conspiracy, race-baiting and a defensive stance that works to negate the truths of my experience. In the end, we may not agree, but for once – just stop and listen. The criminal absolution of George Zimmerman is over. It’s done. It doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible or that he was truly justified in his actions to take the life of another. But the chapter – unlike the wound it left raw and gaping – is closed.
My sister and her husband had a conversation with their sons (8 and 11), my precious nephews, in the immediate aftermath of the verdict:
“So, Dad – it’s kinda like that scene in The Dark Knight, right? When Alfred tells Bruce Wayne that he has to endure, even though it’s really tough?”
“Yes – you have to endure, and have the mental strength of a superhero – because if you don’t…”
“Someone might kill me?”
“Yes”
That is a pain many of you will never know. And I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But it’s reality is something upon which all of us should reflect and consider. Perhaps that is the first step toward healing.
(c) Chandra Montgomery, 2013
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Single Ladies
All the single ladies:
Put your hands up.
If you’ve had enough of this “being single” stuff-
Enough of empty promises and emotional handcuffs;
Of one night stands and justdon’tgiveafuck - type "relationships"
If you’ve had enough of arrangements, with no strings attached -
Of waiting patiently for the Creator to deliver your match.
Single.
Ladies.
If you’re tired of people asking why you’re not married yet?!
If you find yourself in a rut - quietly wrestling with regret.
Single ladies: Put. Your. Hands. Up.
Being single sure makes a nice jingle with Beyonce bouncin’ in a jumpsuit
But I’m so tired of women frontin’ -- like they’re not in hot pursuit
As if landing a spouse wasn’t really in your plan...
Girl, please - you know your lonely ass wants a man.
You can continue “doing you” and make the case to celebrate -
Yet another weekend come and gone without a single date.
Sorry, sis’ - I can’t relate.
And I’m not even trying to hate -
It’s a challenge sometimes to convey the simple fact at hand:
I’m a STRONG, empowered woman, yet and still - I need a man...
I actually pity single ladies who don't quite understand.
As it turns out, fellow singles - I’ve come to call your bluff
on that bullshit “I’m-okay-with-being-single” lame rebuff.
I know it’s hard to face, because we’ve been oh so convincing
Yet the superwoman myth actually needs some sound dispensing.
Which doesn’t equate frailty or admission of defeat.
Because the truth of the matter is - relationships?...
Well, they can be kinda sweet.
I’m talking grownfolk love, trust, honor, and commitment -
I’m talking compromise, accepting faults, and working through resentment.
I’m talking good times and bad times, laughter and tears -
Affection that keeps you grounded through the succession of years.
Through thin line trials and “help me, Jesus” tribulation,
I need a witness for 'no one-can-love-you-like-me' revelation.
And when the dust has settled - and a brand new day has dawned,
I’m talking unconditional love that will wrap you in its arms.
And I know I’m not alone.
Single ladies - admit it, we’re vexed with lingering questions and insecurities-
About our single state of being and what precisely it all means.
So this is for my single ladies who have finally had enough.
Who are tired of pretending - who are always acting tough.
Because there’s something divinely inspired when two beings become one.
Single ladies - please excuse me, if you don’t get where I’m coming from.
When it comes to playing solitaire - see, I’m really not a fan.
Ladies, know it’s not a sin to be the great woman behind a good man.
And honestly, real talk -- if you truly have his back,
I have a hard time figuring out exactly where else you'd be at.
But let’s not miss the point - this poem is not about submission.
I’m just reminding single ladies not to give up or to give in.
Persevere through the terrain that we all know as single life,
A necessary path traversed from single girl to wife.
Single ladies. Put your hands up.
Copyright by Chandra Montgomery, 2011
All the single ladies:
Put your hands up.
If you’ve had enough of this “being single” stuff-
Enough of empty promises and emotional handcuffs;
Of one night stands and justdon’tgiveafuck - type "relationships"
If you’ve had enough of arrangements, with no strings attached -
Of waiting patiently for the Creator to deliver your match.
Single.
Ladies.
If you’re tired of people asking why you’re not married yet?!
If you find yourself in a rut - quietly wrestling with regret.
Single ladies: Put. Your. Hands. Up.
Being single sure makes a nice jingle with Beyonce bouncin’ in a jumpsuit
But I’m so tired of women frontin’ -- like they’re not in hot pursuit
As if landing a spouse wasn’t really in your plan...
Girl, please - you know your lonely ass wants a man.
You can continue “doing you” and make the case to celebrate -
Yet another weekend come and gone without a single date.
Sorry, sis’ - I can’t relate.
And I’m not even trying to hate -
It’s a challenge sometimes to convey the simple fact at hand:
I’m a STRONG, empowered woman, yet and still - I need a man...
I actually pity single ladies who don't quite understand.
As it turns out, fellow singles - I’ve come to call your bluff
on that bullshit “I’m-okay-with-being-single” lame rebuff.
I know it’s hard to face, because we’ve been oh so convincing
Yet the superwoman myth actually needs some sound dispensing.
Which doesn’t equate frailty or admission of defeat.
Because the truth of the matter is - relationships?...
Well, they can be kinda sweet.
I’m talking grownfolk love, trust, honor, and commitment -
I’m talking compromise, accepting faults, and working through resentment.
I’m talking good times and bad times, laughter and tears -
Affection that keeps you grounded through the succession of years.
Through thin line trials and “help me, Jesus” tribulation,
I need a witness for 'no one-can-love-you-like-me' revelation.
And when the dust has settled - and a brand new day has dawned,
I’m talking unconditional love that will wrap you in its arms.
And I know I’m not alone.
Single ladies - admit it, we’re vexed with lingering questions and insecurities-
About our single state of being and what precisely it all means.
So this is for my single ladies who have finally had enough.
Who are tired of pretending - who are always acting tough.
Because there’s something divinely inspired when two beings become one.
Single ladies - please excuse me, if you don’t get where I’m coming from.
When it comes to playing solitaire - see, I’m really not a fan.
Ladies, know it’s not a sin to be the great woman behind a good man.
And honestly, real talk -- if you truly have his back,
I have a hard time figuring out exactly where else you'd be at.
But let’s not miss the point - this poem is not about submission.
I’m just reminding single ladies not to give up or to give in.
Persevere through the terrain that we all know as single life,
A necessary path traversed from single girl to wife.
Single ladies. Put your hands up.
Copyright by Chandra Montgomery, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Tyler Perry needs a....HUG
I will admit: I have neither seen the video nor heard the audio associated with Tyler Perry's apparent tantrum at a recent Hollywood press conference to promote his newest Madea installment. What I have done, though is play an imaginary audio track in my mind as well as a wondrously vivid visual of Mr. Perry's breaking point, replete with limp-wristed swats, pursed lips, and the requisite teeth sucking. I think it's safe to say that both versions are unbecoming a movie mogul...
"I'm so sick of hearing about damn Spike Lee," Perry said during a California press conference on Tuesday. "Spike can go straight to hell! You can print that. I am sick of him talking about me."
Me: Really?
Me: Straight to hell, huh?
Me: ...Okay.
Tyler Perry is a Forbes heralded "next generation billionaire". He just inked a multiyear distribution deal with Lionsgate and odds are he will win the box office this weekend. Scratch that - he will KILL the box office this weekend. He should be shouting "Hallelujer!" - not "Spike can go straight to hell". Seriously, in Charlie Sheen-speak, Tyler - in a word - is "WINNING". His movie box office sales alone have grossed more than a half billion! One would hope that this brother would be so self assured and at peace with the culmination of his life's work and vision made manifest in his rags to riches success story that he wouldn't be phased by detractors. But mogul status be damned - he is "sick" of people talking about him - especially Spike Lee. Apparently the one thing a billion dollars can't buy is a thick skin. At 40 (maybe 41, I'm not keeping track...), I actually need for Tyler Perry to slam not give a flip what anyone says about him or his veritable entertainment empire -- which is all that it is anyway: it's entertainment, folks (remember Talent? - "it's just comedy"...). Even when he aspires to the whole art/life metaphor - it's just...entertainment.
And it is an empire, love it or hate it. On the other hand, if he can't handle the critiques and criticism, then maybe he needs to invest a fraction of his fortune in a reputable M.F.A. program and be about the business of serious film making. Now, I'm not convinced that it's in him -- but I really couldn't. care. less. The truth is - no disrespect intended - "serious" can't even be loosely associated with the general tenor of Tyler's movies and he shouldn't be surprised that someone noticed. Nor should he be offended if they had something less than polite to say about it for that matter. Despite my own bias and literary snobitude, I'll even cop that I can appreciate some (not all) of what Perry seems to be trying to do. However -at the end of the day, Spike is mostly right.
Where Spike is wrong is in his holier-than-thou approach to admonishing another film maker for not being more like him. If Tyler Perry wants to hit people over the head with his themes, then so be it. If he wants to project images, archetypes, and stereotypes that make some of us cringe...well, that's fine. If someone doesn't like it (that means you, Spike Lee) - they have a simple choice - do not turn to TBS or BET when they air his work and stay out of the theatres for his films and stage plays. It really is just that simple. But for every Perry nay-sayer, there are scores of cast and crew in Atlanta that probably "love them some Tyler Perry". And with good reason. He's not all bad - we know this. Spike knows this.
Of course the reason why this matters so much -- the reason why Spike has gotten all up under Tyler's soft and supple skin is because obviously his opinion matters. Spike's legitimacy, credentials, and respect are ever elusive for Tyler. And THAT just makes him "so sick". That "damn Spike Lee"....At this point, I'd venture the only thing that could mitigate Perry's distress is a hug - from none other than Spike himself. Tyler desperately needs for Spike to be okay with his movies. He needs him to validate the work that he does...on and off the set -- in front of and behind the camera.
You don't need a psychology degree to figure that out.
So I hope that Spike eases up on the brother and stops overlooking a societal nuance that W.E.B. DuBois illuminated in definitive terms decades ago. Spike Lee really ought to leave Tyler Perry alone, regardless of how coontastic his exploits may seem. There's 10% and then there is the other ninety...There's Scorcese and Kubrick and then there is Will Farrell. And honestly, God bless Ricky Bobby...lol.
All jokes aside, though - we need to be okay with the diversity within. I struggle myself with resisting a monolithic mindset rooted in my own (clearly superior, ever righteous, lol) way of knowing. A few of my takeaways from this tasteless and unfortunate public spat: I'm not the only one struggling -- and then of course, the obvious - somebody, anybody -- PLEASE give Tyler Perry a hug!
"I'm so sick of hearing about damn Spike Lee," Perry said during a California press conference on Tuesday. "Spike can go straight to hell! You can print that. I am sick of him talking about me."
Me: Really?
Me: Straight to hell, huh?
Me: ...Okay.
Tyler Perry is a Forbes heralded "next generation billionaire". He just inked a multiyear distribution deal with Lionsgate and odds are he will win the box office this weekend. Scratch that - he will KILL the box office this weekend. He should be shouting "Hallelujer!" - not "Spike can go straight to hell". Seriously, in Charlie Sheen-speak, Tyler - in a word - is "WINNING". His movie box office sales alone have grossed more than a half billion! One would hope that this brother would be so self assured and at peace with the culmination of his life's work and vision made manifest in his rags to riches success story that he wouldn't be phased by detractors. But mogul status be damned - he is "sick" of people talking about him - especially Spike Lee. Apparently the one thing a billion dollars can't buy is a thick skin. At 40 (maybe 41, I'm not keeping track...), I actually need for Tyler Perry to slam not give a flip what anyone says about him or his veritable entertainment empire -- which is all that it is anyway: it's entertainment, folks (remember Talent? - "it's just comedy"...). Even when he aspires to the whole art/life metaphor - it's just...entertainment.
And it is an empire, love it or hate it. On the other hand, if he can't handle the critiques and criticism, then maybe he needs to invest a fraction of his fortune in a reputable M.F.A. program and be about the business of serious film making. Now, I'm not convinced that it's in him -- but I really couldn't. care. less. The truth is - no disrespect intended - "serious" can't even be loosely associated with the general tenor of Tyler's movies and he shouldn't be surprised that someone noticed. Nor should he be offended if they had something less than polite to say about it for that matter. Despite my own bias and literary snobitude, I'll even cop that I can appreciate some (not all) of what Perry seems to be trying to do. However -at the end of the day, Spike is mostly right.
Where Spike is wrong is in his holier-than-thou approach to admonishing another film maker for not being more like him. If Tyler Perry wants to hit people over the head with his themes, then so be it. If he wants to project images, archetypes, and stereotypes that make some of us cringe...well, that's fine. If someone doesn't like it (that means you, Spike Lee) - they have a simple choice - do not turn to TBS or BET when they air his work and stay out of the theatres for his films and stage plays. It really is just that simple. But for every Perry nay-sayer, there are scores of cast and crew in Atlanta that probably "love them some Tyler Perry". And with good reason. He's not all bad - we know this. Spike knows this.
Of course the reason why this matters so much -- the reason why Spike has gotten all up under Tyler's soft and supple skin is because obviously his opinion matters. Spike's legitimacy, credentials, and respect are ever elusive for Tyler. And THAT just makes him "so sick". That "damn Spike Lee"....At this point, I'd venture the only thing that could mitigate Perry's distress is a hug - from none other than Spike himself. Tyler desperately needs for Spike to be okay with his movies. He needs him to validate the work that he does...on and off the set -- in front of and behind the camera.
You don't need a psychology degree to figure that out.
So I hope that Spike eases up on the brother and stops overlooking a societal nuance that W.E.B. DuBois illuminated in definitive terms decades ago. Spike Lee really ought to leave Tyler Perry alone, regardless of how coontastic his exploits may seem. There's 10% and then there is the other ninety...There's Scorcese and Kubrick and then there is Will Farrell. And honestly, God bless Ricky Bobby...lol.
All jokes aside, though - we need to be okay with the diversity within. I struggle myself with resisting a monolithic mindset rooted in my own (clearly superior, ever righteous, lol) way of knowing. A few of my takeaways from this tasteless and unfortunate public spat: I'm not the only one struggling -- and then of course, the obvious - somebody, anybody -- PLEASE give Tyler Perry a hug!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
And So It Begins.
This is not a compilation of musings by an angry Black woman. This is about feeling, knowing, learning, giving, growing. This is about being a voice crying out in the wilderness. This is about pressing onward and upward. It's about simple pleasures as much as it is about global injustice. It's about laughter and music. It's about politics and poetry. It's about change whether you believe in it or not. It's about french toast and maple syrup and Christmas and birthdays. It's about violin recitals and SOL exams. It's about men, women, and children. It's about joy and pain; sacrifice and indulgence. It's about how one person's experience can speak to humanity. This is about everything that matters. This is about writing even if no one reads it. It's about redemption and healing. This is about Frankie Beverly and Maze. It's about green tea and honey. It's about everything that makes me wanna...holler, laugh, scream, cry, hide, fight, love, persist, give up, scratch my head, light a cigarette, have a drink, bow my head and pray. It is about time...
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