Brother Old School Regales The Day

Here's a missive from Brotha Old School.  I've included links, most of which are from Wikipedia.

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Not since the late 60s, with the rise and fall of the Panther Party, the demise of the process, (the use of chemicals, lye being the main ingredient, to conk or straighten the Black man's hair) and the birth of the natural (aka the Afro), have I seen such a great display of Black pride and unity.  Marvin Gaye sang "What's Going On," Tricky Dick was in the White House and Cheech and Chong were making light of things.

Back in the day, Blacks referred to each other as my brotha or my susta and tried greeting each
other with Muslim and Swahili exchanges.  Although, more often than not, they were mispronounced and their interpretations rarely understood; like "assalamu alaikum" or "bunny-gunny brotha."  Both phrases were greetings expressed along with a raised clinched fist symbolizing the Black Power sign.  It didn't matter whether you said it right or not.  It was more of a fun and friendly gesture not to be taken too seriously.  It was a rare era, when no matter what was your status quo, being Black, was the thing to be.

Now, all this Blackness, unity, and pride didn't set so well with J. Edgar and crew.   So they craftily circumscribed, infiltrated, then meticulously set about dismantling, from within, most of the major Black movements that promoted such pride and unity.  Reasoning?  They just didn't favor our militant flavor.

But this new found sense of pride and unity generated today is of a cleaner, non-toxic, environmentally friendlier fuel that makes no indication for revolution.  It's just the pure sweet simple joy found in witnessing this day of evolution.  The enormity of the transition for recognition of the Black man's role evolving from the past couple of centuries is not just to be looked upon by America but by the entire world.

A new day?  To say the least.   A new millennium!  A new world!  Undeniably, a new era.  Let me put a lil-some-um out there to ya about myself to shed light on my view about things.  Understand that I, in no way, have ever been one to be politically inclined.  Now, two years shy of 60, I find myself convalescing some shame for allowing my youthful inner city baggage to carry so far into my adulthood.  I was one of them brothas more concerned with trying to hook--up with an Angela Davis look-alike in mini skirt and go-go boots, while on the constant hunt for some Acupulco Gold (the bomb weed of the day).  My world was only as big as the Hollywood night life and the avenues off the Crenshaw strip.  What went on beyond those boundaries, I mistakenly felt had nothing to do with my mama's baby boy.

Today, in following this election, I gotta tell ya, I've learned more about politics and the differences between the major parties than I care to admit.  The excitement in watching history unfold, even for a piss-po-ass-excuse for a student like I've always been, has re-energized the few remaining brain cells that survived the frying of the 60s.  Along with this rejuvenation came the flash backs to those times before the Bloods and the Cuz when brothas got along.  When there was genuine comaraderie.  Sadly, something this new generation has never seen.

Understandably, it took the collective effort of all races in America to elect the nation's first Black President.  But what was such a a reassuring sense of pride and unity, was to see Black people come together as a body nearly as a whole, to stand behind the brotha.  That was a double whammy inducement of pride.  Pride for the brotha and pride for the people standing with him.

Throughout history, when ever a Black man has petitioned the White world's arena, it has never been enough to merely be equally qualified with his game.  He's always had to be better. It is without question that the whole world knows that for a Black man to ever even be considered as a serious contender for the office of the President of the United States of America, he has to be bringing one hellava extraordinary game!  So the fact alone the he was able to win, is enough of a resume in itself to state his qualifications.  You just can't be Black and get that far and not be qualified.  White people never have, nor ever would, allow such a thang.  Beleeve dat!

So, again, I point out it was the collective effort of all the races in America to bring about this day.  Understanding that point, I offer this insight to the Black experience, America tried to oppress Black pride and that's why some on the other side got it twisted with what the soon to be first lady meant when she said this was the first time in her adult life she was really proud of her county.  I've revived the chant to James Brown's, "Say It Loud" to how it now can be expressed today:

Say it loud! 

I'm Black and I'm proud!

Say it loud! 

I'm Black and I'm proud!

Say it loud!

Caint-cha unda-stand!

I'm Black and I'm proud!

To be Ameri-can!