On Voldemort, Trump and the Beast of Fear: Fighting The Horcruxes of Despair

Ultimately Voldemort was defeated by the underground network, the Order of the Phoenix. We, the resistance, don’t have a Dumbledore because the Democratic Party failed spectacularly. We only have us. Destroy the horcruxes in his cabinet and his appointees. Fight him everywhere everyday.

Voldemort was a powerful dark wizard but the powers of goodness and light overpowered him because of the understanding of love. There is love among the opposition: we love us, them, and our country but we must fight until love defeats hate and darkness.

Fight the powers that be. No justice no peace. The people united will never be defeated.

Voldemort was vile, vindictive, cruel, and soulless. He had immense powers to do irreparable evil and damage but we as a united force can oppose this creature of evil. Voldemort was unnamed by the people who were oppressed known only as He Who Must Not Be Named or You Know Who by those who feared to invoke his power. Dumbledore on the other hand noted that fear of a name only reinforced fear of the dark.

Trump is the darkness. He has invoked fear among us. He has spoken hate and threatened the peace of the innocent. He has said that our undocumented countrymen are rapists and murderers. He has denigrated and assaulted women. He has told “the blacks” that they are jailed and uneducated so what did they have to lose. The LGBT community has been singled out for punishment through conversion therapy. We have so much to lose under a Trump presidency. The vulnerable peoples of this country have reason to fear.

Just as some wizards moved to the Dark Lord there were many others who resisted. We must resist this whitelash. Voldemort in his final battle sneered at the opposition and promised vengeance for their resistance. He mocked Harry Potter as weak but Potter defeated Voldemort with his own wand.

Trump can damage us but he can can damage himself as well. He is responsible for the chaos, the fear, the hopelessness that we feel and like Voldemort it will strip his soul into pieces. As leader of the free world he has invoked the powers of darkness and discontent but that will weigh upon him everyday because the resistance will wear him out. He doesn’t believe that we have power over him to block. his intentions.

So there will be discontent and grief.

There will be grief.

Grieve but resist.

You may suffer but resist.

He talks a good game to invoke this whitelash, but even they are unwitting to their own vulnerability.

Believe in victory and resist.

The victory is ours.

PostScript: I am a well-versed Potterhead. Don’t hate.

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We Live Til We Die

You can’t see me because you’re color blind, and you can’t know me for the ghosts in your mind. all I must do in this life is stay black and die; and what you’ll do for me is oppress and deny.
if I reach out will you snatch back and take me from myself, my love and the heart you’ve attacked?
if I say I love you can i trust you not to speak hate? and if I say I love this land does that not deny your police state?
we live together and far apart and these microaggressions tear into my heart. your empire is death; you injure through lies.

we go down together or live til we die

Dinosaur Man

the look that you gave me whispered your thoughts
there was desire and wanting but shame and darkness and loss
and next thing i know i felt the need to peel my skin off
you make me feel dirty when you look at me that way
as if brown of the skin is the same as some shit stain
i’m ugly
(you say)
i’m fat
(you say)
i’m alone
(how the hell do you know?)
but who would want would want a nigger with black nappy curls??
those are the things you conveyed in that look and
i will not own your diseased mind
nor your cruelty
nor allow you to pierce me with the thorns in
deathly savage looks

but this much i’m certain that your kind is dying
the dinosaurs are your people
who are fearful of time and future and change

Dinosaur Man you and your people are slipping away
and none will remain to mourn you or your devilish hate
so cross the bridge to oblivion
take stairs down to the abyss of fate
and stay there with those like you
there is nothing for you in this World
no room for what you name “vigilance”
and we who despise you name you “grievous mistake”

On Trump

Trump is about to revisit a form of racism on black folks with 19th century realness and our white brothers and sisters have decided that’s perfectly okay. I’m over the delusion that Hillary can save us. Black and brown people are the sacrifical lambs of this election. We’ve been sold down the river again.

I don’t know if I can adequately explain how fearful it is in any era  to be  black or brown. The fear of America is something we live with daily but in my lifetime I’ve never seen such a collective nervous breakdown of the white mind to compare to this. We have always had to fear white people and even with the election of President Obama we’ve seen him accomodate the baser natures of haters over the love and hope of black folks whom he took for granted with shocking ease. The price of this democratic experiment has always been at the expense of every black or brown soul in this country.

For a brief eight years the myth of the post racial era has been the delusion of white liberals to the rage of white conservatives. When George W. Bush won the second time I was in shock but that doesn’t compare to the cold insidious nature of this election. This election was always Hillay’s to lose and with four days to go it appears she’s done it. I was never under illusion that she would be some gift to black folks because even Obama denied us the justice and compassion that was so needed to address the sins of the white fathers and brothers and sisters, but the horror I feel at the likely reign of President Trump is all encompassing.

The dirty secret of race in America is that black folk and brown folk  and white folk have never trusted one another and the proof exists in the superficial fabric deep through to the very soul of this country.

I dont think anyone in my generation has ever seen this kind of rank and overt distuption to the point that a majority of Americans have decided not to even pretend to  respect the polite eyes-averted semblance of mutual peace, that pretense of equality that we rely on to interact with one another.

If you don’t speak out against atrocity then you implicitly support it; if you voted for Trump you explicitly support it. The only power that we have is the power of our voices and the screaming is set to begin. Holla if you hear me and don’t stop. What do you have to lose he asked and the answer was always self evident; the least of the of those losses is that transparent film of (dis)trust because we know where we stand now if we never did: black folks were a subjugated people before and that’s where some feel we belong.

Deconstructing the Angry Black Woman: Shacondria Unchained

First off let’s place  Anger in it’s proper context. Anger is a vital element and essential stop off point in the journey of self realization. And the journey self realization begins at the subway station where it becomes clear by the merest suspicion that something is wrong – not just in one’s own personal world but in the world  at large that includes all souls. Self realization moves thru many stages no different from  Elizabeth Kubler Ross’s stages of grief. In fact the journey travels  through all of those stages, but has the potential to end with a peaceful and even happy acceptance. But let’s be real: long travels and extended journeys — especially in the economy cabin — are tiring and stressful. Who doesn’t feel some intense emotion on a journey? That’s just human. So let’s first contextualize this discussion by noting that Angry Black Women, so-called, are on a journey and they are in that particular leg of the trip where the travel has become hardest and most unbearable. And that woman who is the strongest of women just can’t  take it anymore.

I was watching Chris Rock’s concert Bigger and Blacker recently on Youtube and reviewing the extreme variety of comments so idiosyncratic of that site when I read the top voted post under one of his routines: “Yes black women have such big ego problems.” This comment  only proved that the commenter totally misunderstood Chris Rock’s routine frankly, but it  seemed to me indicative of  a  common judgement of black women by white Americans who are chief recipients of privilege and entitlement in society. That disdain and dismissal of the black female’s worth and humanity by reducing her personality to a Psychology Lite diagnosis of  “ego problems” is hurtful. Those same judges tend to consistently overlook the fact that black women have historically functioned as the lowest rung of social entities on that ladder of rank and privilege.

According to the social scale of white supremacy a black man will always be beneath all whites, and everyone sits atop the black female. So, yes, in that sense one could say that black women encounter ego problems.

This is communicated in numerous ways and means but black women are never left in the dark regarding the very specific judgements of white counterparts because we are told ever so clearly and succinctly that we do not measure up. Black women in America are non-conformist in their very being. Every black female I know in my generation  (EVERY ONE, ALL) at some point has been told by a white person  “You know you do your job well but some people think you have a chip on your shoulder sweetie”.

Shacondria: Really? Is that what people think? Can you give me their names so I can beat the shit out of them?

*Politrixie stares mournfully across the room at the speaker*

Okay. I didn’t say that nor did anyone else I know. But that is Shacondria over there who just said that, um, violent thing. She doesn’t mean it.

S: Oh yes!! I mean it!! Don’t tell me what I mean to say!!

*le sigh*

Let’s talk about Shacondria. You won’t know about her because I don’t see her so often anymore. But there was a time when Shacondria and I were really tight.  I mean, I know her as well as I know myself–

S: You are a simple, silly bitch. I am yourself, idiot!!

Shacondria is my evilene ego-trippin Angry Black Woman self. My other personality. I knew if I tried to discuss this subject that she might hear me …but I thought she was sleep and maybe I’d get away with it. And I admit that she – um, we  have some legitimate issues. It’s cool. I’m open. I know there’s work that me and Shacondria need.

But the bottom line is that  she doesn’t need is to be continually told by entitled white male kingpins of our society about how she could more effectively go about slinking beneath the oppressive weight of every superior individual’s criticisms in order to conform to the black female Miss Celie- stereotype. I mean maybe one day the time will come when we can have that conversation as whites and blacks but right now we’re still in the stage where folks need to do some seriously listening and learning and understanding.

And, lord, let’s don’t even get on the topic about how the paler nation transmits its disapproval of her name. Respectable Negro types too. People don’t even pretend to try to address her courteously.

Leave it to the black woman’s oracle Alice Walker to discuss the truth in her seminal essay “In Search of Our Mother’s Gardens” in which she identifies the stereotypical roles of black women from  the “mule of the world” to Sapphira to Evilene. Is there any other race that is granted so many rich, complex but negative stereotypes? I don’t know. I think black women have a serious lead in the race. Black women are maybe just coming into their own where they can be seen as individuals of high capability and promise. We’re maybe beginning to stop being mules in the eyes of the Man. But not quite.

So before those of you related to the Man go to judging maybe try a little compassion first. Here let me help–

The thing that takes Shacondria all the way there is the arbitrary method that white folks go about identifying their bete noir, the Angry Black Woman. It makes no damn sense. Because first and foremost they go after her face.  Everyone has a face and every face has its  expressions. For some reason that I have never understood a black woman’s blank straight-mouth face is always interpreted as a mean face or a sad face. I mean, maybe inside that woman does feel that way but Bitchy Resting Face is a thing now as I have heard but that doesn’t mean that one should treat a woman bitchily. That’s not nice, now is it?

People get in your face and say dumb shit like “SMILE!!” It’s startling to be thinking about your laundry when some stranger foists their own unfamiliar visage in yours and shouts something so inane. It is such a harsh and deeply unfair criticism to be picked on for how you look, and black women are always being told their hair is too nappy, their asses too big,  lips too full. We have never been able to conform to bodily stereotypes and then you go and tell me my face is unsatisfactory?

Sometimes people are sincerely  inquiring  if you’re alright, sure, I know. But  I’ve never understood the perception. Why is the straight face, the I’m-just-minding-my own-business-face on black women so threatening to some whites?

Don’t you think it’s hurtful to be told so in so many different and vividly expressive ways?

Perhaps black women just don’t tend to look dewy, doe eyed as a rule. I don’t know. But nothing makes one more self conscious than to be told that your Minding-My-Own-Business Face is intimidating. How would you feel if that continually happened to you?

Because it’s happened countless times to Shacondria. I know she feels self-conscious. Because she’s so often told that she just doesn’t conform; she can never quite pull off the trick of invisibility – and she tries so hard.

S: So don’t fucking look at my face. Fuck you.

ME: SHACONDRIA!! STOP IT!!!

S: Don’t tell me to stop, you silly-ass bitch!! I’m not stopping nuthin!! Fuck them people!! I do my work. Pay me and let me go the fuck home. I hate them crazy ass white people!!

ME: Okay but you’re not helping this situation and I’m trying to explain why–

S: Fuck helping!! I don’t feel like helping nobody!! Somebody need to help me!! Help me pay this goddamn rent and —

ME: Okay see that’s exactly what people don’t understand. You’re shouting and cursing. You’re way up in my face, girl. Back up. And why are you so mean ALL THE TIME. Nobody can say a damn word to you without you rolling your eyes and–

S: See!! That ain’t even true. I don’t act that way. Why do people get to lie on me and when I say something to defend myself I get called a hater and shit?

It ain’t fair! Those white people who say that shit are crazy. Crazy and mean because that’s essentially what racism and sexism is about at the end of the day! But I’m the one with a problem?!Excuse me for living! OOH!! Makes me so mad!

I don’t act that way because my mother raised me with manners! So why don’t I deserve to be treated with manners?! Them white people got your head fucked up, girl. I do my job. I do my job well. I don’t bother nobody. I mind my own business and do what I’m told.

Then people get in my face and talk about “You got a CHIP on your shoulder” What the fuck does that even mean? How about this you white muthaf—

ME: Whoa!! whoa!! CHILL OUT!! SHACONDRIA!! You need to calm down!!

S: I need to whup your ass is what!! Up taking up for the Man are you? Why don’t you and Don Lemon hook up!!

*dead silence, hateful glare from Shacondria to Politrixie, heat radiating in increasing temperature. Danger!! Danger!!*

*looking warily at Shacondria, moving far away, looks at audience*

Anyway. Look here’s what you’ve got to understand: Shacondria is angry. She is alright? You don’t know her life but she’s had a hard time. Yes that’s no excuse to be mean and angry. But what you’re not considering is that Shacondria has no one but herself. She is alone in the world. She can’t lean on anyone. There’s no one there to lean on. She pays her own bills – on time.  She works hard and responsibly.

But she is naked and vulnerable in the world to all the worst hates and judgments, and these are powerful forces that work upon our souls. We are shaped by the worlds we live in: if Shacondria is so intimidating yet she is the least powerful of all those who number the social classes, what does that say about how we treat those who most need protection?

So do a lot of people but they don’t act that way. You’re right. But you know Shacondria isn’t STUPID. Calling her names and judging her and refusing to try to get to know the person in that brown skin behind Bitchy Resting Face only means that you have already invalidated her and demeaned her as a human being. You made an assumption about her without knowing. She’s smart. I mean, deeply intelligent. She’s not  the “mule of the world” but she isn’t unaware of that her condition in this life amounts to that at times. Shacondria  knows what you think about her. She knows that you are judging her. That you feel threatened enough to not bother to try to humanize her by understanding her.

I used to be her. She used to be really un-self aware. But now she isn’t and that’s why she’s angry. She knows that there are so many things wrong in the world and that in a wrong world no one is more vulnerable to mistreatment than the least of these, of whom black women prominently number. You think that because Oprah has a network and Michelle wears pretty dresses in the White House that discrimination is dead.

See that’s what I’m trying to tell you.

Shacondria knows that isn’t true.

She knows that for every beloved mainstream token that white America chooses to adopt, it merely hides the millions of unnoticed, unloved, unheard black women like her. And while the favored black representative lives well and parties well and becomes the face of the Black Woman, she is breaking her back everyday. The Special Ones merely distract from and obscure the condition of the Dispossessed classes who struggle daily without making the damnedest stride ahead. And no one cares.

Shacondria knows a lot of things. She’s probably the most insightful individual in American culture among the myriad vegetables in the Salad Bowl. Cuz that’s another thing this ain’t no Melting Pot. Unless you want to say that maybe other folk melt and blend in the cauldron and Shacondria and women like her are the charcoal. Do you see what I’m saying?  Bet you never thought about where the fire came from to make the heat for that chemical melting process.

Well it’s us in the fire, and for sure the Native Americans can’t even give off enough proper fuel anymore there’s so few of them left.  Poor folks of all colors. The Dispossessed classes defy color and they provide the fuel, and do the burning in the fire beneath the Melting Pot.  Shacondria belongs to the Dispossessed, and she knows it.

No, it is not cynicism. She knows that in her lifetime this will not change. Deep intuitive analysis that penetrates the very soul of our nation is located in the Dispossessed which you would know had you ever truly listened and tried to understand. It is a heavy load, a heavy burden to know that you can attend the barbecue as long as you burn and don’t eat. It’s a heavy load  on her back, that knowledge, and it is painful. And there just ain’t no medicine for that kind of pain, outside of freedom. Freedom from the chains that bind the Dispossessed to the burden. And there isn’t going to be any freedom for Shacondria until we listen and learn and change.

You remember that tale of the Lion with the thorn in his paw? Yeah. Pain makes you angry. Sure does. Shacondria wants to know when someone plans to come along and take the thorn out of her paw. The load from her back. She’s been waiting a long time. She tried to call out for help and no one listens. The doctor is not in. He has left the building.

She’s not so bad at all when she’s not hurting. You’d be surprised if you got to know her. She’s funny!! And so smart!! She can sing and dance and Paula Deen wish she could cook like Shacondria. She–

S: Fuck that bitch!! I can make my own Soul Food.

ME: Girl I’m not telling you again!!  And  stop with the cursing! Damn! They already think all of us are ghetto trash as it is and you are making it worse.
*mumbles* Crazy bitch.
*loudly*   I ain’t afraid of you so stop acting up.  I will put you out!! Now shut up.

*Shacondria begins taking off her jewelry, pulling her hair back. Grabs the vaseline to grease her face. Cracks her knuckles. She’s preparing to fight Politrixie. *

*Politrixie looks on warily as Shacondria performs the necessary reverse toilet. Prepares to bolt*

ME: Look I got to deal with something just now.I’ll be back later. This girl is trippin…

*sets out at a dead run*

                                 **************************************
TEXT: Um, check it out. I can’t talk just now because Shacondria knocked me in my mouth for calling her a bitch. But I didn’t finish what I was saying. I’ll come finish our talk — you know, like, after my face unswells. But don’t be mad at her. I love her. She is me.  I know her heart. But I mean, straight up, she needs some counseling for real. 
~Politrixie :@ mwa!