Although Racist aren't the omnipresent Boogey-Men they were in their hey-day, I readily admit they do exist. Racism however, has become fairly obsolete.
If you consider racism in the sense of a widespread united hatred for an opposed race, you may find, as I have that it's largely non-existent.
Every now and then a Racist will make an appearance in society. Sometimes w/ enough shock & awe to vie for the nation's attention e.g. Imus, Jena 6. But more often that not, Racist as a whole are lucky to garner a few minutes of conversation around the water cooler.
A hushed "Did you hear about the guy who told all the Black people to exit Wal-Mart?" Or a lone article in The Washington Post on the depiction of our Head of State as a primate.
By and large Racism, that unified conviction to hatred, is beginning to evaporate. If it's not gone already.
Yet as I write this I find I'm not filled w/ pride. I'm not "proud" of our society. I don't feel as if we've consciously taken a step forward in to unbiased acceptance. If anything I feel the absence of racism in society is merely a by-product of our attention span.
In short, we just don't care anymore.
We're not moving forward with the same conviction we had to running backwards.
Mass Lynchings may be a thing of the past, but Gay Marriage is still a thing of the future. While any and everyone may have the right to vote, no one has the right to free Health-Care.
There's been no real growth. We've kinda just, "moved on".
What do we really have to be proud of??
April 3, 2010
February 10, 2010
The Irony
If I held your heart in my hands.
If I cupped your innocence in my very palms.
If my eyes bore witness to your every desire.
And my fingers grazed over your tender courage.
That, would be a dilemma.
Standing there.
Grasping your pulse.
I would laugh.
I would raucously exhale every tear shed on your behalf.
My gut would spasm in mirth with every beat of my prize.
Alas.
I win.
I win and you lose.
You fail.
You are humble and defeated and I will decide our fate.
The horrors I could render.
But I won’t.
As justified as I would be and as deserving as you are.
I won’t.
If I held your heart in my hands,
I would give it back.
If I cupped your innocence in my very palms.
If my eyes bore witness to your every desire.
And my fingers grazed over your tender courage.
That, would be a dilemma.
Standing there.
Grasping your pulse.
I would laugh.
I would raucously exhale every tear shed on your behalf.
My gut would spasm in mirth with every beat of my prize.
Alas.
I win.
I win and you lose.
You fail.
You are humble and defeated and I will decide our fate.
The horrors I could render.
But I won’t.
As justified as I would be and as deserving as you are.
I won’t.
If I held your heart in my hands,
I would give it back.
January 6, 2010
Stuck on Stupid
Having been on one side of this dynamic more times than I'd like to recall, setting my emotions aside in presenting this entry proved more difficult than I had anticipated.That said, the following is written from my (male) perspective...
In the relations of men and women I've long held the helm of the "Nice Guy". Often typecast as the "Friend" or the "Brother" by the more attractive of the two genders.
Having carried this title from both positions of pride and disgust I've been more than emotionally wrought on several occasions.
Yet as cursed a path as I've walked it's along that very path that I've stumbled upon insights that will last well into the later years of my life. It's through those pains and those scarring rejections that I've come to understand the relations of two genders in intimate detail.
Along the path of the "Nice Guy" I've succumb and bore witness to numerous levels of stupidity. Yet the most common and puzzling aspect of every broken heart is the cemented, unwavering, fortified attachment to pain.
The joyous repetition I've seen of the broken hearted to skamper back to a nest of agonizing rejection and disrespect is astonishing.
Time and again I've been there on the other end of that late night call. Comforting and consoling a broken heart while stifling the pains of my own. Only to recieve the same call but weeks later.
I've heard the same story a thousand times over with the same interchangeable elements. For some reason those convicted to "moving on" fall victim time and again to the same pains. Rotating between "F*ck him" and "Him, him, and only him" before a consistent thought can even register.
Why? If "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result".
Then what do you call the above?
The only song I know of that encompasses this dynamic in it's entirety.
In the relations of men and women I've long held the helm of the "Nice Guy". Often typecast as the "Friend" or the "Brother" by the more attractive of the two genders.
Having carried this title from both positions of pride and disgust I've been more than emotionally wrought on several occasions.
Yet as cursed a path as I've walked it's along that very path that I've stumbled upon insights that will last well into the later years of my life. It's through those pains and those scarring rejections that I've come to understand the relations of two genders in intimate detail.
Along the path of the "Nice Guy" I've succumb and bore witness to numerous levels of stupidity. Yet the most common and puzzling aspect of every broken heart is the cemented, unwavering, fortified attachment to pain.
The joyous repetition I've seen of the broken hearted to skamper back to a nest of agonizing rejection and disrespect is astonishing.
Time and again I've been there on the other end of that late night call. Comforting and consoling a broken heart while stifling the pains of my own. Only to recieve the same call but weeks later.
I've heard the same story a thousand times over with the same interchangeable elements. For some reason those convicted to "moving on" fall victim time and again to the same pains. Rotating between "F*ck him" and "Him, him, and only him" before a consistent thought can even register.
Why? If "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result".
Then what do you call the above?
The only song I know of that encompasses this dynamic in it's entirety.
December 13, 2009
If Chivalry is Dead it's due to an absence of Virtuous Women.
"So many women just don't know how great they really are. They come to us all Vogue outside, and vague on the inside." - Mary Kay Ash
The absence of Chivalry is often spouted as a common frustration amongst women. Though not extinct, many women wish traditional male courtesy maintained a stronger presence in today's society.
Yet I've found, more often than not, the women who express such frustrations don't in fact deserve the intense honor and respect of a chivalrous man.
As valid a point as they make, their own integrity and the respect they expect from men are often in-congruent. How can these women demand more respect than they give themselves?
And how can they find fault in men for not graciously offering something they have yet to earn?
Respect isn't the birth-right of a double X chromosome.
Who wants to open the door for someone who's belly button can be seen through the top of their shirt or who has more fingers on their hand than they do threads in their skirt?
Who wants to cultivate a rich and rewarding relationship with an individual who routinely discusses explicit details of their personal exploits on Twitter or Facebook?
The argument is illogical.
"Let us leave pretty women to men devoid of imagination." - Marcel Proust
The absence of Chivalry is often spouted as a common frustration amongst women. Though not extinct, many women wish traditional male courtesy maintained a stronger presence in today's society.
Yet I've found, more often than not, the women who express such frustrations don't in fact deserve the intense honor and respect of a chivalrous man.
As valid a point as they make, their own integrity and the respect they expect from men are often in-congruent. How can these women demand more respect than they give themselves?
And how can they find fault in men for not graciously offering something they have yet to earn?
Respect isn't the birth-right of a double X chromosome.
Who wants to open the door for someone who's belly button can be seen through the top of their shirt or who has more fingers on their hand than they do threads in their skirt?
Who wants to cultivate a rich and rewarding relationship with an individual who routinely discusses explicit details of their personal exploits on Twitter or Facebook?
The argument is illogical.
"Let us leave pretty women to men devoid of imagination." - Marcel Proust
December 8, 2009
Hip Hop...Who cares?
Honestly.
Outside of the culture. Outside of those "In it for the long haul".
Who cares?
Hip-Hop as expansive as it is has only genuinely "touched" a small audience in the grander scheme of things.
Those ignorant to it's depth, those unable to separate the culture from it's art, only have the shallow impressions it leaves upon the media from which to draw their conclusions.
And it's in that ignorance, barraged with the misogyny and glamorization of material accolades, that they conclude "Hip-Hop is dead". And who can blame them when the art of the culture remains in a constant state of self-mockery?
What's there to "hook" the mis-informed when the masses award their support to the "Booty Dew"s and "Stanky Leg"s of the artistry?
Why should they care when it appears as if we, those invested in the culture, don't?
Outside of the culture. Outside of those "In it for the long haul".
Who cares?
Hip-Hop as expansive as it is has only genuinely "touched" a small audience in the grander scheme of things.
Those ignorant to it's depth, those unable to separate the culture from it's art, only have the shallow impressions it leaves upon the media from which to draw their conclusions.
And it's in that ignorance, barraged with the misogyny and glamorization of material accolades, that they conclude "Hip-Hop is dead". And who can blame them when the art of the culture remains in a constant state of self-mockery?
What's there to "hook" the mis-informed when the masses award their support to the "Booty Dew"s and "Stanky Leg"s of the artistry?
Why should they care when it appears as if we, those invested in the culture, don't?
Tags:
Hip Hop
December 5, 2009
Has racism stifled the existence of Black Culture?
Webster defines culture as "The predominating values or behaviors that characterize a specific group or organization".
Throughout time epic civilizations have come and gone. Each with their own rich culture. Practices and traditions saturated in their core values.
Today I find culture most present in the major ethnic parties of the world. Asian, Hispanic/Latino, Indian, Italian, Jewish, Native American. All massive civilizations who as a whole hold an authentic conviction to preserving the core of their culture.
And yet as I comb through the melting pot that is America I find myself unable to pin down the existence of Black Culture. Does it exist?
Black in the sense of the American Negro. For I feel a large majority of those who identify themselves as "African American" on their legal documents would more accurately prefer to designate themselves "Black" given the option. Though genetically rooted in the African culture it is my belief that the modern day "African American" doesn't identify with being African very much if at all. And rightfully so. At this point several centuries seperate us from the original classification. At this point we are "Black".
So where is our culture? Where do we stand amidst the other towering nationalities of the world? Did our conviction to hatred during our racial contest drown out our Culture?
I readily admit we as a people share certain stereotypical/genetic commonalities, but as a whole I find we have no widespread traditions. Or at the very least an accumulation of shared values.
Throughout time epic civilizations have come and gone. Each with their own rich culture. Practices and traditions saturated in their core values.
Today I find culture most present in the major ethnic parties of the world. Asian, Hispanic/Latino, Indian, Italian, Jewish, Native American. All massive civilizations who as a whole hold an authentic conviction to preserving the core of their culture.
And yet as I comb through the melting pot that is America I find myself unable to pin down the existence of Black Culture. Does it exist?
Black in the sense of the American Negro. For I feel a large majority of those who identify themselves as "African American" on their legal documents would more accurately prefer to designate themselves "Black" given the option. Though genetically rooted in the African culture it is my belief that the modern day "African American" doesn't identify with being African very much if at all. And rightfully so. At this point several centuries seperate us from the original classification. At this point we are "Black".
So where is our culture? Where do we stand amidst the other towering nationalities of the world? Did our conviction to hatred during our racial contest drown out our Culture?
I readily admit we as a people share certain stereotypical/genetic commonalities, but as a whole I find we have no widespread traditions. Or at the very least an accumulation of shared values.
The Inertia Forum
By scientific definition The Inertia Forum is an incorrect title for this blog. In fact by definition it's almost a complete contradiction to the insights I aim to find burrowed between it's web-pages one day.
Physics defines Inertia as the resistance of any physical object to a change in it's state of motion.
Inertia in and of itself is quite boring. At it's very core encompassing guttural inactivity. And yet, just a few mouse-clicks above this sentence it lies emblazoned upon this page.
Why?
Because for me, Inertia embodies every finite ounce of potential to be had in life. It's within such barren voids of inactivity that I believe you can harness the potential for change.
Inevitable, incessant, glorious change.
Being human, alive ourselves, I believe we've all succumb to Inertia at some point. Whether for a brief instance or for several prolonged years I feel we've all found ourselves lulled into cycles of monotonous inactivity.
Resisting change, striving to preserve a comfortable yet unsatisfying experience.
Ironically it's in this space I find the greatest inspirations dwell. Nurtured by a longing innate need to expand. To grow. And so I dedicate this forum to that carnal passion. In the hopes that through inspired communion with others, those longing for that satiating expansion can unearth their own un-trodden purpose.
Physics defines Inertia as the resistance of any physical object to a change in it's state of motion.
Inertia in and of itself is quite boring. At it's very core encompassing guttural inactivity. And yet, just a few mouse-clicks above this sentence it lies emblazoned upon this page.
Why?
Because for me, Inertia embodies every finite ounce of potential to be had in life. It's within such barren voids of inactivity that I believe you can harness the potential for change.
Inevitable, incessant, glorious change.
Being human, alive ourselves, I believe we've all succumb to Inertia at some point. Whether for a brief instance or for several prolonged years I feel we've all found ourselves lulled into cycles of monotonous inactivity.
Resisting change, striving to preserve a comfortable yet unsatisfying experience.
Ironically it's in this space I find the greatest inspirations dwell. Nurtured by a longing innate need to expand. To grow. And so I dedicate this forum to that carnal passion. In the hopes that through inspired communion with others, those longing for that satiating expansion can unearth their own un-trodden purpose.
Tags:
Forum,
Inertia,
Introduction
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
