Over the past couple of years, there has been a growing epidemic of taser-related deaths at the hands of the police. Unfortunately, an unsettling number of these deaths are Black men. As peace officers, the job of the police is to maintain order and enforce laws. Using their police powers to indict, convict, and execute innocent Americans has never been part of their job description. The only time that deadly force should be used is when their lives or the safety of the general public is threatened.
The taser is supposed to be a non-lethal way to subdue and apprehend those suspected by the police of crime or mayhem. Unfortunately, this tool has become as lethal as a bullet fired from an officer's service revolver.
CNN.com reports that Amnesty International has reported that, since June 2001, more than 150 people have died in the United States after being subdued with a stun gun. The organization has called for police departments to suspend use of the devices pending study of their possible risks. Few have done so, said Amnesty, which added that more than 7,000 of the nation's 18,000 law enforcement agencies use the devices.
Back in July 2008, plezWorld posted the sad story of Baron "Scooter" Pikes who was executed by the police after he was tasered NINE TIMES.
After wandering over to Electronic Village, you will notice that Scooter's sad story is far from being out of the ordinary:
plez sez: i am a proponent of the actions necessary to review the use of tasers. if they are no longer a non-lethal alternative, then maybe they should be banned.
it is my hope that by bringing this story to plezWorld on this day of blogging for justice, the injustice caused by the unlawful use of tasers by the nation's police will be addressed.
the UN has condemned the use of tasers as torture. in light of the ongoing discussion about the Bush policies of torturing prisoners of war, we have verifiable examples of US citizens being tortured to death by the very police who had sworn to protect them.
A few days ago was "Blog for Justice Day" in the AfroSpear; ever so often a group of Black bloggers will take up a cause and blog about it on a specific day. This week's Cause Celeb had to deal with the rash of deaths of Black men at the hands of police officers wielding Tasers. plezWorld happened to beat the rush by blogging about the Baron "Scooter" Pikes Taser Death a few days earlier.
While perusing the member sites, I came across a blog entry that was well-written, hard hitting, introspective... and just too damn good to pass up! After requesting and receiving permission from The Republic of T., I am pleased to present the latest in the long line a guest bloggers in plezWorld.
Held Suspect By Terrance of The Republic of T. July 31, 2008
I don’t remember how old I was the first time it happened. I couldn’t have been more than ten years old. We were in Philadelphia — my mother, my younger sister, and I — visiting my great grandfather on my mother’s side of the family. For my sister and me, it was our first time traveling that far from home, and our first time in a city like Philadelphia. Everything amazed us, from the size of the buildings, downtown to the narrow little houses on my great great-grandfather’s street, with no yards to speak of and no space between them; so different from our suburban home back in Augusta, GA.
Even going shopping was different. Instead of driving to the store, my mom pushed her grandfather’s folding cart a few blocks to a store a few blocks away, and we followed her. The store was a wonder unto itself; on the outside a rowhouse like the one my great grandfather lived in, but on the inside there were long, narrow shelves holding food, toys, and other items we’d never seen before.
Our mother had told us time and time again not to touch anything whenever we went shopping, but we couldn’t help it this time. We picked up toys and candy and other items, exclaiming to each other to “come look at this.” Until it happened.
I heard the shopkeeper before I saw her.
“Put that back!” a female voice shouted. “What are you doing in here?! You better not take anything, ’cause I’m watching you.” I looked up and into the anger-twisted face of a large, angry white woman.
We too much in shock and too frightened to say anything. I don’t remember what else she said, but I’m pretty sure she called us theives and threatened to call the police. I looked around for out mother, who hadn’t realized that we were no longer behind her. I didn’t see her for a moment, and then she appeared, no doubt drawn back to the front of the store by the commotion. She flashed us a look, and apologized to the shopkeeper (who was still giving us an angry look as we left the store with our purchases). It wasn’t until we ere out of the store that our mother explained.
The shopkeeper thought that we were stealing from her store. We didn’t understand until mom made it clear: the shopkeeper assumed because we were two black children we were going to steal from her store, and that’s why she treated us like criminals.
It was a lesson I never forgot, and one that’s been repeated throughout my life. I thought about that first time when I read this article from CNN’s Black in America series, about how being black automatically means being suspect.
For Anthony Williams, being black in America means being a suspect.
The 39-year-old former Marine said he’s never had any trouble with the law, other than a few traffic violations, and leads a middle-class life in the Atlanta, Georgia, area.
But the AT&T customer care representative said he still gets nervous when he hears that police are looking for a 6-foot-tall black man, “because I know I fit that description.”
“I worry I will get pulled over and some police officer decides to shoot first and ask questions later,” Williams wrote.
Police recently questioned him in his own driveway after getting complaints that a man was walking in neighbors’ yards, Williams said. iReport.com: Tell us what you thought of “Black in America.”
“You never know what to expect when you get pulled over by police, and that’s how it is when you’re black,” he said.
ii
I fit the description then, and I’ve fit the description since. The next time I can remember is when I was in college. I was walking back from class, on my way to the dining hall for dinner, dressed like most of my friends dressed on our predominantly white campus, in torn jean and a t-shirt. I was halfway across the parking lot of one of residence halls when it happened.
I’d seen the police car when I was waiting to cross the street. I didn’t give it much thought, because I wasn’t doing anything. But the officers had paid a lot more attention to me than I had to them. They turned into the parking lot, and stopped right in front of me as I walked across.
One of the officers got out of the car and began asking me questions. Was I a student? Where was I going? Where was I coming from? Could I show him my student I.D.? I did, and he told me that there had been some cars broken into in that lot, and some break-ins at the nearby dorms, and that I fit the description of someone seen in the area around the time of the earlier crimes. And then more questions. Did I know anything about the robberies? Did I know who might be responsible? Did I walk through that lot every day? (Not after that day, I didn’t.)
Eventually, the officer finished his questions and let me walk away. They sat parked in the car as I went on. Keeping an eye on me, I’m sure. I thought about how differently that situation might have ended, because I knew even then the truth in what Anthony Williams said: “You never know what to expect when you get pulled over by the police, and that’s how it is when you’re black.” This was before the Amadou Diallo shooting, before Malice Green, and before Abner Louima. But being from the south, I heard stories, and I knew that I couldn’t completely trust the police, even if I’d done nothing wrong; not so much because of the police a whole, but because I didn’t know who — what kind of person — was behind the uniform, and what they might project upon me as a black man. I’d been trained without even know it on how to respond to the police; saying “Yes, officer,” and “No, officer,” and offering only the information that was requested, and then only if they had a right to ask for it and I didn’t have a right refuse. Ask the questions I had a right to ask, but never show anger or disrespect, even if they do.
iii
I knew even though it was years before my father tried to tell me what law enforcement might both projected upon me and then respond to whether I reflected it back to them or not.
I was in college at the time. I’d been home for a weekend visit, and was heading back to school — at the University of Georgia, in Athens, GA. As I made several trips back and forth, loading up the car, my dad sat on the couch, watching television. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I caught my dad looking at me with what appeared to be concern, as though he was trying to decide whether to say something to me about it.
Finally, I finished loading the car, and said my goodbyes. But my dad stopped me before I could make it out the door and finally spoke his concern.
“Son,” he asked, “is that what you’re wearing to drive back to Athens?”
I was wearing my basic school “uniform” at that time: a ripped pair of old, faded jeans, and a old t-shirt.
“Um, yeah,” I said.
My dad then breathed a sigh that seemed a mix of resignation, exasperation, and trepidation over what he was about to tell me — what he had to tell me, really.
“Son,” he said, “You are going to be driving through a lot of southern counties. Now, I’m not saying you’re going to do anything wrong. But you are a young black man, and if you get pulled over by one of these southern sheriffs or policemen, they are going to take one look at you and get the wrong idea. They’re not going to treat you like they would a white boy dressed like that.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to argue with him, and say that stuff like that may have happened when he was my age, but it certainly didn’t happen anymore. Instead, I unpacked some clothes, and changed into a pair of khakis and a buttoned-down oxford, which met with dad’s approval.
I was still thinking about my dad’s words when I got back to UGA. After unloading the car and carrying everything up to my room, I turned on the television. At some point, the news came on and I saw this.
“This” was the Rodney King beating.
Since then there has been Sean Bell. There has been Kathryn Johnston. There has been Robert Davis.
There has been Jessie Lee Williams. There has been Albert Mosley. There has been Anthony Carty. There has been the Jena Six.There have been many.
And now, half a year after his death, there is Baron Pikes.
Baron “Scooter” Pikes, a 21-year-old sawmill worker, had tried to run from police in Winnfield, Louisiana, when they tried to arrest him on an outstanding warrant for cocaine possession.
But a coroner’s report found Pikes had been handcuffed and on the ground when first hit with the Taser and might have been dead before the last two shocks from the 50,000-volt device were delivered.
...In the year since Winnfield police received Tasers, officers have used them 14 times, according to police records — with 12 of the instances involving black suspects. Ten of the 14 incidents involved Nugent, who had no public disciplinary record.
Police said Pikes told officers he suffered from asthma and had been using PCP and crack cocaine.
But Dr. Randolph Williams, the Winn Parish medical examiner, said he found no sign of drug use in the autopsy and no record of asthma in Pikes’ medical history.
And for every Baron Pikes there are hundreds, even thousand of men like Michael Tillman.
Michael Tillman was 20, with a 3-year-old daughter and an infant son, when he was brought into the Area 2 police station on Chicago’s South Side for questioning. His mother, Jean Tillman, says that although he had gotten into some trouble with the law as a youngster, he had been on the straight-and-narrow, working as a janitor and paying his bills, since he and his girlfriend had their first child. That was July 22, 1986.
He hasn’t been home since.
Tillman is one of at least 24 African-American men that the People’s Law Office in Chicago claims are still serving sentences for crimes they say they confessed to only after enduring hours of torture at the hands of Chicago police officers under Commander Jon Burge between 1972 and 1992. Although 10 of Burge’s victims have been pardoned or given new trials after their illegally obtained confessions were exposed, the vast majority of the 100-plus cases have yet to be reviewed by the state of Illinois. Those men have either served out their sentences, died in custody or, like Tillman, continue to live their lives behind bars, hoping that one day they will have a fair trial.
According to Tillman’s 1986 trial testimony, when he arrived at the Area 2 police station in the predawn hours of July 21, 1986, Detectives Ronald Boffo and Peter Dignan took him to a second-floor interrogation room and pressed him for information about the murder of 42-year-old Betty Howard, whose body was found the day prior in the apartment building Tillman oversaw. When he told the detectives that he knew nothing about the murder, he says that Boffo and Dignan, along with three other officers, became abusive. Without ever reading him his Miranda rights, he says they handcuffed him to the wall, hit him in the face and punched him in the stomach until he vomited blood. During the course of what appeared to be three days, rotating pairs of officers brought him to the railroad tracks behind the station and held a gun to his head, suffocated him repeatedly with thick plastic bags, poured soda up his nose and forced him into Dumpsters outside of the apartment building, ordering him to search through the rubbish for a murder weapon until, according to Detective John Yucaitis, Tillman confessed to the crime.
According to Tillman’s mother, she, her husband and an attorney they called for counsel were all denied access to her son during his three days of interrogation.
There will be more.
How can there not be? A black man reporting on crime is held suspect.
THE police officer had not asked my name or my business before grabbing my wrists, jerking my hands high behind my back and slamming my head into the hood of his cruiser.
“You have no right to put your hands on me!” I shouted lamely.
“This is a high-crime area,” said the officer as he expertly handcuffed me. “You were loitering. We have ordinances against loitering.”
Last month, while talking to a group of young black men standing on a sidewalk in Salisbury, N.C., about harsh antigang law enforcement tactics some states are using, I had discovered the main challenge to such measures: the police have great difficulty determining who is, and who is not, a gangster.
My reporting, however, was going well. I had gone to Salisbury to find someone who had firsthand experience with North Carolina’s tough antigang stance, and I had found that someone: me.
A black woman with a big purse can’t even go shopping. (Or, to quote EnVogue, “can’t look without being watched.”)
About ten minutes into my search for the perfect boot my sister comes to me and says that she has to go to the restroom. I told her okay and that I’d watch Erica. By then I had zoned in on a pair of 9 ½ red Kenneth Cole boots and was searching for an employee to get the left shoe so I could try them both on. I told Erica that “Big TT” needed her fashion advice while “Little TT” handled her business.
So while Erica and I weighing the pros and cons of the red Kenneth Cole boot my sister comes running up to me looking both very frantic, frustrated, and upset. She says that we need to go and that I shouldn’t spend my money here.
Now my sister Jorjanna is the sweetest person, aside from my Grandmother that I know, maybe almost to a fault. She’s always cheerful and happy, yeah, nothing like her big sister, lol. So for me to see her so upset I wanted to know why.
She said that she didn’t think anything of it at first but that when we separated and were looking at shoes on our own, that she was asked more than four times by various employees if she needed help, to which she politely replied no. However, when she went to the back of the store to use the public restroom, one of the employees came in after her and my sister overheard the tail end of a conversation on a walkie-talking wherein the employee said “Who? The Black girl that just went into the restroom,” before realizing that my sister heard her. When my sister finished in the restroom, she came out and realized that she forgot to put on her lipgloss and as she reached in her purse and turned around to go back into the restroom the same employee who just asked if she needed any help accosted her yet again. By then, my sister said she got it and she quickly made her way back to where my niece and I were.
While my sister is telling me what happened three of the employees were standing a few feet away watching her. This angered her and so my sister said, “Yeah, I’m talking about you.”
To media figures like Ann Coulter, Toby Keith and Bill O’Reilly, even lynching is a joke. And for all of the above and more, cotton-picking black folks should be grateful.
Meanwhile, the KKK distributes fliers in Virginia, claiming residents requested information; students at a New Jersey middle school are assigned a project defending slavery; the vice president relaxes at a hunting lodge that flies the confederate battle flag; nooses start appearing at various college campuses, and even re-appear in Jena, LA, and the discussion ends up being about whether hanging nooses is just a prank; an all-white panel of journalists debates whether Barrack Obama is black enough.
Is it any wonder that racism literally makes us sick? (And when it does, we get substandard treatment?)
iv
Years after that conversation with my dad, I was held suspect again, in another police encounter that could easily have gone south.
Several years later, I was living in Washington, D.C., and found myself driving home late one night. I was giving a fraternity brother of mine, also a black male, a ride home after a late night fraternity event. My car wasn’t in the greatest shape. I’d been in a traffic accident just a few days before, and hadn’t taken it to be repaired because I needed to drive it that weekend.
We were driving past the Capitol when we got pulled over. I saw the flashing lights, and as soon as I heard the siren I pulled over. By then, I knew the drill. Don’t argue with the officers. Don’t get out of the car unless they tell you to. Get out of the car if they tell you to. Answer any questions with “Yes, officer,” or “No, officer,” give them any information they ask for, and maybe — just maybe — you won’t have any trouble. Still, what happened then was a bit surreal.
As the officer came up to my window, I said a silent prayer that my fraternity brother — Neal, who was known for having a sharp tongue and a willingness let it loose — would keep cool. The officer asked for my license and registration. She asked if I knew why she stopped me, and I said no. She said it was because one of my tail lights wasn’t working, and agreed with me when I said it was probably a result of the accident I had a few days earlier. She seemed to believe me when I told her I didn’t know about the tail light.
I thought maybe she’d give me a ticket or a warning, and give my documents back to me. Instead, she walked back to her car and got on her radio. I wasn’t worried, because it wasn’t like I had an outstanding warrant or anything more than a couple of unpaid parking tickets. But while she was in her car, another police car pulled up, and two more officers got out.
In my rear view mirror, I saw the officer who stopped us get back out of her car, at the same time that I saw yet another police car pull up. At this point, I started to get nervous — after all there we were, two black males, driving through D.C. at 4 a.m., in a banged up car, with the police units and six police officers now at the scene. Depending on any number of factors, including what we said or did, it might not matter if we’d done anything wrong.
“Is this your vehicle?” the officer asked me when she arrived back at my window. “We’ve had some car thefts reported in this area.”
I assured her that it was my car, and she stepped away for a moment to confer with one of the other officers now milling about the scene. At that moment, a police van showed up, and stopped alongside the passenger side of the car. Neal, who hadn’t said a word up to this point, looked at the van, looked at me and just said “What the…”
I finished his sentence silently, in my mind.
The officer, at this point, was back at my window. “Sir,” she asked me, “do you have the title to the vehicle.”
How many people keep the title to their car in the car itself? I didn’t know, but I knew that I did have the title in the car. I knew just where it was. It was in my briefcase, which was in the trunk of the car. I knew that in order to retrieve the title, I’d have to get out of the car — and with at least eight officers now pretty much surrounding us — walk over to the back of the car, open the trunk, open the briefcase, and retrieve the title.
What if, I thought, just one of these officers thought I was reaching for a gun at any point in that series of steps? That I had no gun — had never even owned one, in fact — was and would have been meaningless in that moment. It wouldn’t have mattered.
...I told the officer that I had the title, and that it was in my briefcase, in the trunk of the car. I told her I’d have to get out of the car, open the trunk, and open the briefcase to get the title out and show it to her. She gave me the go ahead, and I walked around to the back of the car, opened the trunk, opened the briefcase, and got the title. I don’t remember if the officer followed me, and I didn’t look to see if any of the officers had their hands on their weapons. I couldn’t.
I showed the officer the title. She looked it over, handed it back to me, and told me to get back in the car. The van drove away, and one of other police cars drove away. Finally, the officer came back to my window.
“I’m giving you a warning,” she said. “You take him home, get yourself home, and then I don’t want to see you driving this car again in this condition.”
I assured her that she wouldn’t.
“Alright,” she said. “Have a good one.”
I rolled up my window, and started the engine. To this day, I am eternally grateful that Neal waited until the windows were rolled up and we were driving away from the police officers to exclaim — well out of their earshot — “Have a good one? F___ you!”
I laughed, out of sheer relief, but I understood that there was a moment back there when we could have been “another Rodney King.” We could have been “another Malice Green.” We could have been Amadou Diallo, or even Abner Louima.
v
Almost thirty years after that trip to Philadelphia, and my first experience of being held suspect because of my race, I am a father to two sons, who will grow up to be black men in the same world that I did; a world that has changed very much, and very little since then. The youngest is seven months, and it will be a few years before he knows anything about the notion of — or the implications of — race. My oldest on the other hand, is five (or five-and-three-quarters, as he tells anyone who asks), and the day is approaching faster than I’d like to think when I will have to find a way to tell him what I’ve experience, in a way that may help him avoid some of what I’ve experience, but that doesn’t chip away the confidence that makes me smile with a fatherly pride I understand better now than I did when I saw the same in my dad.
Part of me must learn to see them — however much it pains me — not with a father’s eyes, but as my father saw me in that moment before I drove back to school, with the eyes of the rest of the world. It’s necessary, in order to spare them pain, to somehow let them know that there are people in the world who will not see them as I see them. There are people who will see them and not see their intelligence, the loving home and family they came from, their potential or their personhood. There are people who will project upon them what they believe about black men, and about black people, and respond to that even if that’s not who my sons are, even though I will teach them that they do not need to reflect back all that’s projected upon them. And some of those people will be in uniform.
I will have to teach them something else that my parents taught me, which Michael Eric Dyson articulated commentary written for the CNN series, about himself and his brother.
And he is not alone. There are thousands of black men who are rotting in jail cells who have done nothing to merit incarceration. And even when they get in trouble, a great number of black men go to prison for nonviolent drug offenses. Often, crippling racial profiling and suspicion of black men put them on a path to prison, while white males who commit similar offenses are arrested and convicted in far smaller numbers.
The point is not affirmative action for black thugs. The point is that white males often get second, third and fourth chances for reform — either because they weren’t suspected to begin with, or they are given far lighter sentences and far more favorable treatment — while black males are severely punished for even relatively small infractions.
Even though I grew up in an integrated neighborhood, went to an integrated school, my parents made sure I understood that I couldn’t do everything some of my friends might do, and expect the same treatment if I got into trouble. It’s a knowledge that probably kept me out of trouble, because it made me think twice about going along on what might be considered a “youthful prank” for my friends, but would be treated much differently in my case.
In college, I had a white roommate who had what you might call an “all-American” look (which meant, and often still means white, preferably blond and blue-eyed). His father was a bank president back in his hometown, so he came from a well-off, well-connected family. He drove around in a 1968 red Mustang convertible, dressed fashionably, and always had money. We became friends, but I was selective about where I went and what I did with him.
It snowed at the beginning of winter semester that year, and in Georgia that meant that classes were canceled for as long as the snow remained on the ground. By the second day, my roommate was board and decided to visit friends in Atlanta. He invited me to go along, but I declined, deciding that I’d probably end up over-extended financially if I made that trip, and if I ended up not having a good time I’d be stuck until he decided to head back.
The next day, I got a phone call from someone looking for him. It was from a bonding agency. It took a moment for me to realize what that meant, and I asked if he was in any trouble. The woman on the phone just said, “I’m sure he’ll tell you when you see him.”
He did.
Apparently, while in Atlanta my roommate had attempted to shoplift over $1000 in clothing from a major department store. Through tears he told me about being arrested, handcuffed, and locked in a cell with some “awful people,” until his parents bailed him out. While I listened to him, I quietly considered that those “awful people” who were his cell-mates for a few hours probably looked a lot more like me than like him, and if I’d gone along for the trip and gotten arrested with him my folks could not have bailed me out quite so easily or quickly, if at all.
Fast-forward a bit, and his parents hired the best, and most well-connected lawyer their money and could buy — and their connections could get them access to — to deal with my roommates impending court date. The court date came, and the sentence was community service. I don’t remember what the community service was, but at some point my roommate felt like venting and complained to me about it. I listened quietly, again, but with a bit more anger, because I knew that if I were in his shoes not only would I not have been bailed out, but there would be no well-connected lawyer, and almost certainly no sentence of community service.
I knew what my parents had taught me, that I can’t do everything my friends do and get away with it. Or, more bluntly, I can’t do what a white boy like my roommate might do, and expected to get treated as a white boy like my roommate got treated. If I got caught, my story would have quite a different ending. I had to know that, I guess, in order to have the future my parents wanted for me.
vi
I took my five-year-old to see a movie a few weeks ago; one he’d been asking to see for weeks prior. As we were settling into our seats, the previews began, and one of them was the preview for The Express about Ernie Davis — the first African American to win the Heisman trophy — and his experience with racism during a trip south to play in the Cotton Bowl. I squirmed in my seat, realizing that up to that point, the history of segregation and the struggle against it had not yet been part of my son’s education, which focused more on basic things like learning the alphabet, learning to count, etc. As we watched the preview, which spelled out the central conflict in the movie, without making it too explicit, I wondered how much he absorbed, and what he thought about it. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to discuss it with him afterwards. Not yet, I thought, let him be a child a little longer.
And later, at home, we watched “Barney,” a show he has since declared himself to have outgrown. The episode explored the roles of various people in the community — teachers, doctors, fire fighters, and police officers — and the refrain sung for each job was “the (fill in the blank) is a friend of mine.”
When he asked us what the police officer’s job is, we answered that the police officers are there to keep people safe. And they are. But I know that at some point both he and our youngest son will have to understand that there are some people who will hold them suspect because of their race, and that some of those people will wear police uniforms, and will be armed with batons, guns, tasers, and more. And they will have to know — and know at a young age, as I learned on that trip to Philadelphia long ago – how to carry themselves in a way that that may be less likely to cause an encounter to end badly, or tragically, when or if they are held suspect.
Perhaps they will have to learn to hold others suspect, and potentially guilty of holding them suspect, until proven innocent. Part of me knows they will, and the part of me that is their father dreads it. Because it will mean the death of at least a small part of the innocence they have a right to hold on to for a bit longer, though they really can’t afford to.
From CNN.com: (CNN Student News) -- Forty years after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., CNN launches a sweeping on-air and digital initiative, CNN Presents: Black in America. These documentaries, "The Black Woman and Family" and "The Black Man," focus on fresh analysis from new voices about the real lives behind the stereotypes, statistics and identity politics that frequently frame the national dialogue about Black America.
Black in America: The Black Man Aired: Thursday, July 24, 9 p.m. ET. Program overview: Soledad O'Brien evaluates the state of black men in America and explores the controversial topics of black men and fatherhood; disparities between blacks and whites in educational, career and financial achievement; and factors leading to the dramatic rates of black male incarceration. The documentary also examines the achievements of black men and the importance of the positive influences of black fathers. Resources associated with CNN Presents: Black in America.
plez sez: i'm still not feeling the spoken word poet who introduces each segment... been skipping it!
okay, i have to admit, "Black Man" was considerably better than "Black Woman & Family," but both leave a lot to be desired. In "Black Man," soledad did a much better job in providing the context and setting the table for the racial strife that gripped little rock, arkansas in the wake of the de-segregation order and the death of martin luther king, jr. but if you weren't listening closely, it almost appeared that the two gentlemen who were profiled were part of the Little Rock Nine!
but the message associated with the assistant superintendent's family was not lost on me: the two "successful" sons (the lawyer and musically-inclined college student) found their happiness with white women (not saying there's anything wrong with it, but...), while the ne'er-do-well son had a child out of wedlock and was sitting in jail on a weapons charge. and the son who is a DA couldn't even find any Black friends with which to socialize with outside of work (look at the gathering at his house).
and of course, ms. o'brien didn't have to look far to find a deadbeat dad who was too sorry to show up on time for his daughter's birthday party. alittle later in the show, the reason for his being tardy is evident... his baby momma is carrying the twins of some other dude! so if she is soooo damn upset with having to raise Deadbeat Dad #1's daughter, how the HELL is she gonna feel raising Deadbeat Dad #1's daughter and Deadbeat Dad #2's twins!!! what the HECK was she thinking?!? i guess she was like ole girl from "Black Woman & Family" who had FOUR kids by some guy (and adopted another one) who had no intention of marrying her.
i guess my main complaint is the same that i lodged after the first episode: this was not groundbreaking stuff! the statistics have been published and rehashed (it was kind of discouraging to hear about an educated Black man being no more desirable an employee than a white felon!). but nothing new and shocking. nothing tying the current situation to slavery (at least, a modest attempt was done on night one). there are no gay people in the Black community? are rap and hip hop artists the only expression of Black culture (what about Blues & Jazz, and pop, and rock, and R&B - all music forms that were invented by Black people, yeah, even pop!). there are Black men in real colleges, we all didn't get our degrees while incarcerated (there are more Black college-aged men in college than in jail).
she made a veiled reference to the light skin vs. dark skin "thing" that afflicts the Black community, while profiling high-yellow fast-talking Princeton educated Georgetown professor Rev. Dr. Michael Dyson (CNN profile here) and his younger darker skinned brother who is serving a life sentence for murder. unfortunately, this phenomenon and scourge of the Black community was not fleshed out... and if you are not Black, you probably had NO IDEA what they were talking about! that could've been a two-hour show all on it's own... actually, every topic that was glossed over could've been its own two-hour show.
i know time was short (only two hours), but was it that short that the only successful Black family that she could profile was living in a white neighborhood, getting pulled over by the cops outside their house, yet braggadocios about the bermuda grass upkeep in that same neighborhood (notice, he was never on tape around any of his neighbors), and sending his kid to a white private school? she could've rolled through DeKalb County, Georgia and found successful Black families living in Black communities, sending their kids to predominantly Black schools, and bragging about the bermuda grass on their lawns! both nights played up a number of stereotypes, and then took the extra step of validating them.
i applaud soledad o'brien's efforts (even though, over the two nights, she said absolutely NOTHING about being Black - or mixed race - herself during the documentary), but her efforts completely missed the mark. before embarking on such an endeavor again, i suggest she talk with me, first!
Back in April 2008, CNN started the Black in America presentations with an in depth review of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. Over the course of two nights in July 2008, Soledad O'Brien hosts an in depth and groundbreaking documentary on what it means to be Black in America.
From CNN.com: (CNN Student News) -- Forty years after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., CNN launches a sweeping on-air and digital initiative, CNN Presents: Black in America. These documentaries, "The Black Woman and Family" and "The Black Man," focus on fresh analysis from new voices about the real lives behind the stereotypes, statistics and identity politics that frequently frame the national dialogue about Black America.
Black in America: The Black Woman & Family Wednesday, July 23, 9 p.m. ET Program overview: Soledad O'Brien explores the varied experiences of black women and families and investigates the reasons behind the disturbing statistics on single parenthood, disparities between black and white students in schools, and the devastating toll of HIV/AIDS. O'Brien reports on the progress of black women in the workplace and the status of the black middle class.
Black in America: The Black Man Thursday, July 24, 9 p.m. ET. Program overview: Soledad O'Brien evaluates the state of black men in America and explores the controversial topics of black men and fatherhood; disparities between blacks and whites in educational, career and financial achievement; and factors leading to the dramatic rates of black male incarceration. The documentary also examines the achievements of black men and the importance of the positive influences of black fathers.
Before and after viewing these programs, use the overview questions and discussion activity that follow to facilitate a discussion with your pre-teen and teenaged children.
Before viewing:
What is your impression of black culture in American society?
What accomplishments have blacks made in America since Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination?
What challenges do you think exist for black men and women in American society today?
Has Barack Obama's candidacy impacted your view of black men and women in America? Explain.
Do you think that your family's history has affected your life? If so, how?
After viewing:
What factors for success did you observe in the documentary? Are these factors present in your life?
Did any of the individuals in the program grow up in an environment similar to yours? Explain.
In your opinion, are there any aspects of black society that could have been added to the program? If so, what are they?
Did anything in the documentary surprise you? If so, what?
Has anything in this program affected your view of blacks in America? Explain.
plez sez: CNN usually does a very good job with these types of documentaries, with a good job, i mean a balanced story which captures the nuances of the subject matter. i am anxious to see their treatment of this subject, because there are so many nuances to Black folk, i am more than a bit curious as to how they will capture them all in two two-hour presentations.
as groundbreaking and noteworthy that this project appears, plezWorld hopes that the people who would benefit the most from viewing it (non-Black folk) will actually take the time to watch it. any public school education will leave you with the knowledge of what it is like to be non-Black in America, but there are scarce opportunities to have the light shown on the Black experience, except during the brief lessons on slavery and the Civil Rights Movement. and throw in the criminal element that stars on the nightly news all over the country, it would be too easy to have a distorted view of what it is like to be a Black person in America.
NOTE: The reason why I blog is to give readers an opportunity to hear and respond to various points of view. Unfortunately, some points of view are so abhorrent and vile that I refuse to let plezWorld be a forum for them. No more comments will be allowed on this subject, due to the cowardly and racist diatribes of a few.
A Roswell, Georgia newspaper is defending a controversial cover illustration that placed Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama in a rifle's cross hairs. The Roswell Beacon is a free weekly rag that has a distribution of about 65,000 in the city of Roswell, which is just north of Atlanta, Georgia. The controversial front cover was published on May 15, 2008.
The associated article states that north Georgia is the home to some serious racists, and whether we like it or not, Obama's candidacy has brought out the worst in a lot of people. Some have questioned whether there is a need for a newspaper to suggest assassination with such an incendiary cover such as this.
The paper's publisher, John Fredericks is quoted as saying, "Good, bad, or ugly, we tell the truth." The cover was approved with little debate about it being appropriate, though they were aware that it would likely cause a buzz in the community.
The cover's article was pitched and reported by veteran freelance journalist Alan Sverdlik, who said he was curious how law enforcement agencies were handling the increased number of threats lodged against Sen. Obama by white supremacist groups, some of whom are based around north Fulton. Sverdlik said Tuesday he had not seen the cover and had no input in its development.
A number of bloggers have written articles calling the Roswell Beacon to task for publishing such an incendiary cover.
Read the entire AJC article about the Obama cover picture here.
WARNING! The Roswell Beacon article is a chilling and quite disturbing expose' that takes place just north of Atlanta; one of the subjects openly discusses the assassination of Obama and the beginning of a race war if he is elected President.
Read the actual article from the Roswell Beacon here and it is also re-posted on the Reporter-Cub blog.
plez sez: roswell, georgia is home to the whites who fled the city of atlanta to the south. north atlanta (and north fulton county) is probably the reddest part of red state georgia. the right leaning roswell beacon features syndicated columns from ultra-conservative michelle malkin, it is a free rag that panders to its constituency: a large community of right wing borderline racists! they see nothing wrong with giving comfort to those who would kill a Black man who would be so bold as to aspire to the presidency of the united states.
it is a sad commentary on the state of affairs in this country when a presidential candidate (more than likely, the presumptive nominee and quite likely the next president) is given the cover of even a fish wrapping rag in the crosshairs of a rifle! if the man who is singularly responsible for the wrongful death of over 4,000 americans in iraq isn't worthy of this publisher's ire (for those who are kind of slow, i'm talking about george w. bush), i can only wonder what Barack Obama has done (other than being born with brown skin) to endear such an honor? and my gut instinct tells me that the color of his skin has everything to do with it and concerns about his safety have very little to do with it.
the cover art is no longer accessible on the beacon's website. but i intend to let my feelings known by sending them more e-mail. a local holiday inn has already pulled support from the rag based on the backlash over the cover.
On the evening of November 25, 2006, Sean Bell went out with three friends (Joseph Guzman, Trent Benefield, and one other man) to a strip club in Jamaica, New York to celebrate his marriage that was scheduled for the next day.
A hail of gunfire (50 bullets fired by NYPD undercover officers - one officer reloaded his gun before resuming fire). Three of the men (Bell, Guzman, and Benefield) were dead, the other one seriously injured. No gun (which allegedly prompted this heavy handed action by the police) was ever found on a person or in the car with the shooting victims (think Iraq and WMD).
The police said that they thought the guys were going to the car to get a gun after an argument outside of the club. The car they were riding in was shot up as the four attempted to drive away in Bell's Nissan Altima.
Oh yeah... all four men were Black!
A judge in New York City has been hearing the seven-week trial (the officers waived their right for a jury trial) against the police. Today, Justice Cooperman in State Supreme Court in Queens entered a verdict of "Not Guilty" on all charges for the three police officers involved.
Before rendering his verdict, the judge said "the police response with respect to each defendant was not found to be criminal. The people have not proved beyond a reasonable doubt that each defendant was not justified in shooting." He found the three officers not guilty of all of the eight counts, five felonies and three misdemeanors, against them.
once again, justice peeked out from under the veil before rendering judgement in this case. the life of a Black man has no value when tossed into the balance of our current justice system.
i don't think the police were racist: one was latino, one was Black. but the justice system is racist, if it will allow police officers to gun down innocent people without reason or provocation.
the assumption by this ragtag group of officers was that the Bell party was going to get their guns, drive around the block, and then shoot up the club! isn't that the same rational used by bush administration for invading iraq - stop saddam hussein from using his weapons of mass destruction (WMD) against israel? i don't recall any WMD being found in iraq either!
predictive justice (especially, the use of deadly force) should be illegal. this verdict gives the police WIDE latitude in how they assess and act in any given situation, even a situation that they imagine. this verdict makes it even MORE DANGEROUS for a Black man to be in the presence of the police. a police officer can misconstrue any action as harmful to the public and using that as a basis for their actions, use deadly force to prevent you from doing something that they only imagined you would do!
this verdict gives the job of mind reader, police, judge, jury, and executioner to an officer who may have the training to do only one of those jobs! NOW THAT'S DEEP!
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reports that Fulton Superior Court Judge Marvin Arrington routinely uses his sentencing day - on Thursdays - as a time to speak his mind to offenders who come before him for sentencing. On last Thursday, he went one step further: he had about 50 defendants (all of whom were Black) and he asked all of the white people in the room to leave before he addressed them.
Arrington said that for him it was just a "Bill Cosby moment" in which he delivered a harsh indictment that bad behavior in poorer black neighborhoods was an albatross on black advancement. Unlike Cosby, who has received some criticism among blacks for delivering such messages, Arrington received a standing ovation from the defendants and their families after his 10-minute talk.
Judge Arrington is quoted as saying, "I wanted to have a fireside chat and my grandmother said years ago that if you're going to fuss at black people, you don't need to do it in front of white people." He continued, "I didn't know it was going to be so controversial[.] I probably made a bad judgment call and I probably won't do it again. It was not ill-intended. My heart was in the right place."
The judge has received some flak for asking the white attorneys to leave the courtroom.
plez sez: i know judge marvin arrington... he grew up in the same neighborhood and attends the same church as my wife's family in atlanta. i've met him at a few church gatherings and we are members of the same fraternity. i was even a guest speaker - on career day - in his younger sister's classroom at booker t. washington high school a few years ago.
i applaud him for reminding these young Black men that they are not only a strain on society, but they are also a cancer within the Black community. instead of heading to jail, all fifty of those guys should've been in a classroom or at a job! each one of those guys are exactly what's wrong with the Black community.
i do not applaud his methods. what he had to say - no matter how humiliating it may seem - needed to be heard by everyone: white, Black, asian, latino, etc. we can no longer let the worst examples of our community skate into the obscurity of our prison system. everyone needs to know that judge arrington and plezWorld does not condone or tolerate the behavior of our Black men that continues to keep our community down. i only hope that more of our Black leaders have "Bill Cosby moments" and tell the world what we think about those who continue to destroy our community.
do you feel that judge arrington was right or wrong to ask the white attorneys to leave?
This was obviously done prior to the South Carolina Primary last week:
What a cast of characters to speak on hillary's behalf: Rep. Charles Rangel - (D-NY) - I'll give ole boy a pass, since he is well past his prime and he is a congressman in New York and Bill Clinton's office is in his district.
Bob Johnson (BET Founder) - We already know how ridiculous this brother is... with endorsements like his, who needs enemies.
Bishop T. Lane Grant (Chicago) - What political capital is he talking about? And check out that wicked knot in his tie... nuff said!
Sen. Darrell Jackson (SC State Senator) - Since this was BEFORE the primary in his state... one could say that this dude picked the wrong horse in the race... Obama mopped up the place with Hillary (he got 55 percent of the vote to her 27 percent). Read a nice little write-up about his distinguished career in the South Carolina Senate here.
Hon. Bill Gray (Former Congressman and head of UNCF )- Old and irrelevant in this conversation... you got to know that his showing up was a favor to Bill to help fill out the program with a few more Black faces.
Mayor Douglas Palmer (Trenton, NJ) - It probably didn't take much more than a rubber chicken dinner to coax this mayor away from his cesspool of a city! It's funny, that he didn't talk about how Hillary's policies were going to help reduce the amount of crime that is rampant in the capital of New Jersey!
Willie Gary (High Priced Lawyer & Adulterer) - I guess the "hillary for president" campaign helped out with his $28,000 per month child support payments! read about it here.
plez sez: my, my... we sure does love us some miss hillary! hey bojangles, why don't we show miss hillary that new dance we jigged during the dessert.
old girl really scraped the bottom of the barrel to fish out these weak ass endorsements under the guise of "African American Men for Hillary"... what kind of *ish* is that?!? i guess no one would be offended by a group called "White Women for Barack," huh?!?
through all the gushing, brown-nosing, and cooning about (thanks, mr. gary), plezWorld didn't hear ONE, not ONE compelling argument why Black men, Black women, or ANYONE should vote for hillary clinton. some of the speeches seemed forced and none were heartfelt... it was a room of Blacks whom bill clinton had "cracked the whip on" to assure their presence at this august gathering. i don't know if i should be ashamed or embarrassed by the "performance" of some of hillary's endorsers.
ok... this makes reason #14 why i'm won't be voting for hillary clinton: "Shufflin' & Grinnin' Coochie-Sniffin' Black Men for Hillary"
plezWorld Prayer: "Lord, deliver me from this life if i ever gravitate to such a low station that i have to be a crotch-sniffin' lackey for mr. charley!"
My wife and I just got in from viewing the movie "Stomp The Yard" with a sizable portion of South DeKalb County at the Stonecrest AMC 16 (the place was sold out). Cute movie. Neat stepping. Respectful of traditional Black Greek Letter Organizations (fraternities). Nice dancing, a lot of it was too recent for a forty-something like me to appreciate (krumping? clowning?).
"When DJ (Columbus Short), a troubled youth from Los Angeles, moves to Atlanta to attend Truth University, he discovers "stepping," the age-old style of dance traditionally done in African-American Fraternities, where teams demonstrate complex moves and create rhythmic sounds by using their bodies. DJ's raw talent and hip-hop inspired moves quickly place him at the center of a fierce rivalry between two fraternities, the winner of which will be determined in front of a sold-out arena at the annual stepping championships. But before he can help his teammates, he must battle his own demons and learn the true meaning of brotherhood."
plez looks at the look. This movie was obviously directed by a music video director (Sylvain White), from the opening sequence to the finale, I felt like I was watching the extended-remix version of a music video. Lots of quick shots, inventive overhead shots, and the ubiquitous super slo-mo shot of some very intricate and creative dance moves. I was completely lost at the beginning because I had absolutely no context on the whole "dance/fight/street gang" opening sequence where - I hope I don't ruin it for anyone, but... - DJ's brother (played by music artist and teen heartthrob Chris Brown) gets a bullet to the dome! I'll be honest, that was the most shocking part of the movie.
plez looks at the plot. Basic Hollywood boilerplate: guy overcomes his circumstances, faces his demons, gets the girl, and wins the dance-music-stepping-singing-drumming-spelling-yougettheidea competition at the end of movie. Hey! That sounds a lot like "Drumline" meets "You Got Served" meets "School Daze." If you liked those movies, you'll like this one. If you never heard of those three movies, go see "The Pursuit of Happyness" again, because this movie ain't for you!
plez looks at the frats. I have to admit that I carry a lot bias with me: I am a member of a traditionally Black fraternity and when I was in college, I stepped on numerous occasions (I still have my very first red and white striped cane from my pledge days). It is obvious that the writers were members of Black fraternities as the rival fraternities were models on traditional Black fraternities... down to the step routines! I really enjoyed when the pledges were introduced to the yard, because I know two of the guys who played pledgees in the movie, they are blood brothers and were members of the fraternity chapter that I pledged at Georgia Tech (Yo! Wassup with the cameos Larry & Lamar?!?). The one problem with the fraternity members is that most of the guys are WAAAAY past their college days; some of these guys were 30-something! The main antagonist was played by Darrin "Dance Grooves" Henson who is pushing 35 years old... although he is a great dancer and choreographer, you will instantly recognize him and realize he is much too old for his role.
plez looks at the stepping. I never stepped like that... and if I was 20 years younger, I still don't think I could step like that! To the trained eye, it was obvious which fraternity the movie producers belong to: "their" fraternity won the competition and just about every step routine in the movie was a variation of "their" steps... and their fraternity's name begins with an "A" and ends with an "A." I'll leave it at that.
plez sez: Good music. Nice dancing. Innovative and creative step routines. At times, the costumes were a bit contrived, especially the "Janet Jackson Rhythm Nation" outfits that one step team wore in the competition at the end of the movie. The dialogue and plot was adequate to move the audience from the dance/fight to DJ going to college to his pledging a fraternity to the step competition. If you are familiar with stepping, then you will find the movie at least tolerable.
I give "Stomp the Yard" a GO SEE; the stepping is quite interesting and plezWorld knows 3 or 4 of the extras. Check it out!
BLOG UPDATE: January 14, 2007 - "Stomp the Yard" debuted with the top spot for MLK, Jr weekend! CNN reports that "the dance flick "Stomp the Yard" was a step ahead of the competition at the box office, debuting as the No. 1 weekend movie with $22 million."
~ husband ~ father ~ son ~ brother ~ mentor ~ subdivision dweller ~ northern by birth ~ southern by choice ~ raised a black baptist, now guided by the spiritual ~ raised a kennedy democrat, now politically dead center (moderate) ~ raised in a Cadillac Coupe Deville, now hooked on an SUV ~ college educated and still a student of life ~ wild college frat boy and now a settled alumnus ~ intellectual yet fun-loving geek ~ technical and leading edge ~ corporate cog ~ consultant ~ college football saturday devotee ~ and a ramblin' gamblin' helluva engineer (GO JACKETS!) ~
This is my personal blog. The views expressed on these pages are mine; and they are in no way associated with the views of my employer, family, friends, or associates.
Over the past couple of years, there has been a growing epidemic of taser-related deaths at the hands of the police. Unfortunately, an unsettling number of these deaths are Black men. As peace officers, the job of the police is to maintain order and enforce laws. Using their police powers to indict, convict, and execute innocent Americans has never been part of their job description. The only time that deadly force should be used is when their lives or the safety of the general public is threatened.
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