Am I What I Think I am or Am I what You say I am???

A very good friend of mine recently reminded me of the old and very (believable) adage “there is a fine line between genius and insanity”. Now I know I’m about round trip to the sun and back from brilliance, and most people conveniently cross over to insanity after they very rationally conclude the life of their spouse and other love ones in a harrowing yet calculated manner, there is a strong element of truth contained within that maxim. I utilize such a preface to assure you when I say… “excuse my schizophrenic display of thoughts ” that I’m safely residing comfortably in saneville, even though some try to take me go to the hood of insanity and while Ill never be “good enough” to be allowed through genius community gates, although I like marvel at its buildings from afar . Then again, most sane people state there crazy, and most crazy people fervently; state their sane. Oh the subjective crux. Alight let me stop messing with yea head lol There is a point to all this tho…………..

Beginning

During a previous blog I comprised in August (“Race based education”) I briefly mentioned the latent but internally strong jealousy I hold via inhabitants of the Caribbean who are able to bask in there nationality and heritage due to it’s unambiguous nature. A few of reality’s truths where mentioned, then I went on to speak about something exceedingly important: Baseball?

Change of scenery

Last week when on a out of town trip in a popular metropolis my cohorts and I happened to encounter a store forthrightly named “Boricua Emporium”. Being that one within our party of four was/is proudly a progeny of Puerto Rican heritage, who sadly, rarely ever encounters persons of his ethnic background, nor the extended, almost necessary benefits those encounters create, where we reside. So we all traveled the up the hallway which should have had “stairway to heaven” emanating thru the walls. When we entered the diminutive but welcoming confines, Puerto Rican articles of clothing and trinkets where pervasive everywhere. After feeling good for our friend and trying to point out stuff we thought was “hot” (fuck you Paris for fucking up our word!!!) my friend and I started to look around for something that we could purchase. Ironically we where spurred on by the Dominican shirt we witnessed, and then become aware of all other nationality based clothing in the store. Friend: “Damn they even got a Trinidadian shirt up in here” Me: Shit I can front like a Jamaican…I could get dreads quick then a motherfucker” Friend: “Man it’s fucked up that we aint got no flag, aint no shit we can even buy in here..” The happiness once held for our friend was let go as we embraced harsh reality and sadness.

The Trip Home

Since I was the lazy bastard who did not put one second in on the driving while reaching our destination, I rightfully began the first leg home. Losing the battle against the sweet whims of sleep, I decided to exit of the turnpike and purchase a much needed Mountain Dew, before I drove all of the cars inhabitants to a peaceful death. Little did I know that the gas station was inconveniently placed 3 miles away from the exit, which inevitably led to my friends to wake up and question where we where. Me being tired, on edge, in a Donald Rumsfield/ Drew Rosenhaus mood to answer questions, my responses where short and terse to what I felt where sarcastic questions of “where are we at?” and silence that spoke with its presence alone. After the thickness in the air subdued slightly people in the car started going through the gear they had purchased and reminisced about the trip. While recollecting, the trip to the Puerto Rican store came back up. Friend: “Man we where happy for you, but it was fucked up we couldn’t buy any thing. To which someone replied “Why didn’t you buy something with a African Flag?” which garnered the strong response “Nigga I aint African, they don’t even like us anyway!!!!” Now personally I hate when black people make blanket statement about how Africans don’t like there American brethren, but I have to admit no matter how small, there is some validity to that sentiment. Taking a less harsh stance I chose to point out the Africa was way to large for us to claim the whole continent, so I felt it fruitless and foolish to do so. So another asked “Your American you can’t you just rock a American flag??” Which prompted me to state “We American on paper in reality we all know where not American” followed by the ignorant “they view them “foreigners” more American than us” which I would direct anybody to tell a Arab person that but I digress.

“Quotes” of the Conversation

“You know we need our own flag”…….”We don’t even have our own country, how can we have our own flag” “Every body else has they own flag, we should make one up” “I dunno…what the black people flag?” “Hell yea!!!” “Hmm Yo they would fight that shit real hard” “Who why?” “White people, conservatives, black people who think they American……they would look at it as divisive” “Mannnnnn Fuck them!!!” “Hmmmm I think the only people who don’t have any land but have there own flag are the Palestinians, so maybe it has been done before” “Think about the pride it would give us, think about what it would do for the kids” Man black people would fight it” “Huhh?” “Yo hold up, since we talking about flags, what do yall think about Young Jeezy with that Snow Man shit?” “Man he embarrassing us in front of the world, I respect him getting paid off of it, his grind or what ever, but he should be embarrassed and ashamed for himself” “Yea but we all still listen to his music, and White people looking at us like “The Snowman” is our flag” “Yeahh” “But yo we could do studies, no our history when we got on tv and in the media about the flag so we knew what we were talking about “ We can’t do it alone” “Why?” “ Cuz we would be speaking for a whole people” “hmm” “Plus Black people would fight it cuz we wouldn’t be able to agree on how it should be constructed” Why would they do that?” “Cuz there are 3 black people in this car and we cant agree, now just imagine 33 million of us” “They would think about the movement” “Dog…White people have a better conception or at least more definitive one of what black people are then we do.” “How so?” “To them if you got a lil black in you your black, no matter what u mixed with, us, some of us won’t even claim Alicia Keys and Hallie Berry, cuz they look at them as mixed”. “True…” So who what, who are we then?” “I guess we just niggaz”……….. Dame Dame Dame !!!!!!!! The fucken deer!!!!!!............. End of conversation……..

This Week

The near death experience I incurred did not jar the contents of the flag conversation from my mental. The debate had branched off and spawned many various levels of thought. Who am I, Am I What I Think I am or What others say I am? During the week I had some conversations with some very good friends of Spanish decent who I am lucky to have in my life. Somehow the conversation turned to how I didn’t view them as Spanish, but rather by there nationality (Cuban, Rican) .The conversations we held brought out various known ideas labeled as beliefs, such as theoretically I’m just as English as they are Spanish, various political, social and economic rationale lead to the dissemination of and slight acceptance of them in to Spanish culture, while American Blacks never look at them selves as English ,and really with the exception of white people, the vast majority of people who inhabit the Western hemisphere, are relatively new persons, in the sense that they have only been in existence for 400 yrs (give or take) at maximum.

Just as Columbians, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans and many others are the wonderful human results of a amalgamation of various racial backgrounds, so are American Blacks. Go head and see if the average black person ever acknowledges his European Blood line, and if you’re a white person and true to point out that fact…..look intently at the glare you receive.

I love Africa, I love my African roots, but I am not African. I’m not speaking in a geographic origin sense, but a genetic and mental one. Even if I and innumerable persons could piece together the millions of broken branches to our family tree, it would be for not help, cause the countries that layer lands previous have no real relevance to our history.

So what am I left with? I’m not American, because I’m not accepted nor do I choose to accept that title. I’m Not African, because the connection I feel to it often less than the one disconnect I have with it. What do I call myself? What do others call me? A Nigga.

My cousin is presently comprising a paper for class about the history and impact of the word Nigga.. We had various consultations about the meanings and effects of the term throughout heated and enjoyable conversations. Combined with previous thoughts, I came to the conclusion that we are the only group of people who always state who/ what we are before any statement or sentiment is conveyed ..That nigga did this. That nigga was. That nigga etc etc…. It’s almost like before we are even persons, individuals, human beings…we are niggas. And for those who think I’m just trying to put the word nigga in a negative light, as if I’m expecting Asians to say “That Chink” or Spanish people to say “That Spic”, think about this, those same Spanish and Asian people, don’t utter, “That Asian did this” or That Spanish guy/girl was”. The reality of us being niggaz is omnipresent and supersedes even being human, at least in hidden practice. When coupled with the fact that when most non black people speak the word nigga, its spawned within from distain and hate, and most of the world views us like so, our accepted definition of ourselves becomes more depressing. Am I what I Think I Am….or Am I what others Say I am………..If I say I am Something…..and others View me as I view my Myself…..can or should I even be disturbed?

A lot of personal questions, to a problem shared by millions. What am I? Up until last week I felt I was a Black person….and a Nigga.. Now I feel that I much more than that definition. No matter the positive or negative connotation. But What?

That Flag sure would help now………………….

AIM- ILLAIM365

Yahoo- illiaimofdaconection

Msn- daconection@hotmail.com

Am I What I Think I am or Am I what You say I am???

A very good friend of mine recently reminded me of the old and very (believable) adage “there is a fine line between genius and insanity”. Now I know I’m about round trip to the sun and back from brilliance, and most people conveniently cross over to insanity after they very rationally conclude the life of their spouse and other love ones in a harrowing yet calculated manner, there is a strong element of truth contained within that maxim. I utilize such a preface to assure you when I say… “excuse my schizophrenic display of thoughts ” that I’m safely residing comfortably in saneville, even though some try to take me go to the hood of insanity and while Ill never be “good enough” to be allowed through genius community gates, although I like marvel at its buildings from afar . Then again, most sane people state there crazy, and most crazy people fervently; state their sane. Oh the subjective crux. Alight let me stop messing with yea head lol There is a point to all this tho…………..

Beginning

During a previous blog I comprised in August (“Race based education”) I briefly mentioned the latent but internally strong jealousy I hold via inhabitants of the Caribbean who are able to bask in there nationality and heritage due to it’s unambiguous nature. A few of reality’s truths where mentioned, then I went on to speak about something exceedingly important: Baseball?

Change of scenery

Last week when on a out of town trip in a popular metropolis my cohorts and I happened to encounter a store forthrightly named “Boricua Emporium”. Being that one within our party of four was/is proudly a progeny of Puerto Rican heritage, who sadly, rarely ever encounters persons of his ethnic background, nor the extended, almost necessary benefits those encounters create, where we reside. So we all traveled the up the hallway which should have had “stairway to heaven” emanating thru the walls. When we entered the diminutive but welcoming confines, Puerto Rican articles of clothing and trinkets where pervasive everywhere. After feeling good for our friend and trying to point out stuff we thought was “hot” (fuck you Paris for fucking up our word!!!) my friend and I started to look around for something that we could purchase. Ironically we where spurred on by the Dominican shirt we witnessed, and then become aware of all other nationality based clothing in the store. Friend: “Damn they even got a Trinidadian shirt up in here” Me: Shit I can front like a Jamaican…I could get dreads quick then a motherfucker” Friend: “Man it’s fucked up that we aint got no flag, aint no shit we can even buy in here..” The happiness once held for our friend was let go as we embraced harsh reality and sadness.

The Trip Home

Since I was the lazy bastard who did not put one second in on the driving while reaching our destination, I rightfully began the first leg home. Losing the battle against the sweet whims of sleep, I decided to exit of the turnpike and purchase a much needed Mountain Dew, before I drove all of the cars inhabitants to a peaceful death. Little did I know that the gas station was inconveniently placed 3 miles away from the exit, which inevitably led to my friends to wake up and question where we where. Me being tired, on edge, in a Donald Rumsfield/ Drew Rosenhaus mood to answer questions, my responses where short and terse to what I felt where sarcastic questions of “where are we at?” and silence that spoke with its presence alone. After the thickness in the air subdued slightly people in the car started going through the gear they had purchased and reminisced about the trip. While recollecting, the trip to the Puerto Rican store came back up. Friend: “Man we where happy for you, but it was fucked up we couldn’t buy any thing. To which someone replied “Why didn’t you buy something with a African Flag?” which garnered the strong response “Nigga I aint African, they don’t even like us anyway!!!!” Now personally I hate when black people make blanket statement about how Africans don’t like there American brethren, but I have to admit no matter how small, there is some validity to that sentiment. Taking a less harsh stance I chose to point out the Africa was way to large for us to claim the whole continent, so I felt it fruitless and foolish to do so. So another asked “Your American you can’t you just rock a American flag??” Which prompted me to state “We American on paper in reality we all know where not American” followed by the ignorant “they view them “foreigners” more American than us” which I would direct anybody to tell a Arab person that but I digress.

“Quotes” of the Conversation

“You know we need our own flag”…….”We don’t even have our own country, how can we have our own flag” “Every body else has they own flag, we should make one up” “I dunno…what the black people flag?” “Hell yea!!!” “Hmm Yo they would fight that shit real hard” “Who why?” “White people, conservatives, black people who think they American……they would look at it as divisive” “Mannnnnn Fuck them!!!” “Hmmmm I think the only people who don’t have any land but have there own flag are the Palestinians, so maybe it has been done before” “Think about the pride it would give us, think about what it would do for the kids” Man black people would fight it” “Huhh?” “Yo hold up, since we talking about flags, what do yall think about Young Jeezy with that Snow Man shit?” “Man he embarrassing us in front of the world, I respect him getting paid off of it, his grind or what ever, but he should be embarrassed and ashamed for himself” “Yea but we all still listen to his music, and White people looking at us like “The Snowman” is our flag” “Yeahh” “But yo we could do studies, no our history when we got on tv and in the media about the flag so we knew what we were talking about “ We can’t do it alone” “Why?” “ Cuz we would be speaking for a whole people” “hmm” “Plus Black people would fight it cuz we wouldn’t be able to agree on how it should be constructed” Why would they do that?” “Cuz there are 3 black people in this car and we cant agree, now just imagine 33 million of us” “They would think about the movement” “Dog…White people have a better conception or at least more definitive one of what black people are then we do.” “How so?” “To them if you got a lil black in you your black, no matter what u mixed with, us, some of us won’t even claim Alicia Keys and Hallie Berry, cuz they look at them as mixed”. “True…” So who what, who are we then?” “I guess we just niggaz”……….. Dame Dame Dame !!!!!!!! The fucken deer!!!!!!............. End of conversation……..

This Week

The near death experience I incurred did not jar the contents of the flag conversation from my mental. The debate had branched off and spawned many various levels of thought. Who am I, Am I What I Think I am or What others say I am? During the week I had some conversations with some very good friends of Spanish decent who I am lucky to have in my life. Somehow the conversation turned to how I didn’t view them as Spanish, but rather by there nationality (Cuban, Rican) .The conversations we held brought out various known ideas labeled as beliefs, such as theoretically I’m just as English as they are Spanish, various political, social and economic rationale lead to the dissemination of and slight acceptance of them in to Spanish culture, while American Blacks never look at them selves as English ,and really with the exception of white people, the vast majority of people who inhabit the Western hemisphere, are relatively new persons, in the sense that they have only been in existence for 400 yrs (give or take) at maximum.

Just as Columbians, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans and many others are the wonderful human results of a amalgamation of various racial backgrounds, so are American Blacks. Go head and see if the average black person ever acknowledges his European Blood line, and if you’re a white person and true to point out that fact…..look intently at the glare you receive.

I love Africa, I love my African roots, but I am not African. I’m not speaking in a geographic origin sense, but a genetic and mental one. Even if I and innumerable persons could piece together the millions of broken branches to our family tree, it would be for not help, cause the countries that layer lands previous have no real relevance to our history.

So what am I left with? I’m not American, because I’m not accepted nor do I choose to accept that title. I’m Not African, because the connection I feel to it often less than the one disconnect I have with it. What do I call myself? What do others call me? A Nigga.

My cousin is presently comprising a paper for class about the history and impact of the word Nigga.. We had various consultations about the meanings and effects of the term throughout heated and enjoyable conversations. Combined with previous thoughts, I came to the conclusion that we are the only group of people who always state who/ what we are before any statement or sentiment is conveyed ..That nigga did this. That nigga was. That nigga etc etc…. It’s almost like before we are even persons, individuals, human beings…we are niggas. And for those who think I’m just trying to put the word nigga in a negative light, as if I’m expecting Asians to say “That Chink” or Spanish people to say “That Spic”, think about this, those same Spanish and Asian people, don’t utter, “That Asian did this” or That Spanish guy/girl was”. The reality of us being niggaz is omnipresent and supersedes even being human, at least in hidden practice. When coupled with the fact that when most non black people speak the word nigga, its spawned within from distain and hate, and most of the world views us like so, our accepted definition of ourselves becomes more depressing. Am I what I Think I Am….or Am I what others Say I am………..If I say I am Something…..and others View me as I view my Myself…..can or should I even be disturbed?

A lot of personal questions, to a problem shared by millions. What am I? Up until last week I felt I was a Black person….and a Nigga.. Now I feel that I much more than that definition. No matter the positive or negative connotation. But What?

That Flag sure would help now………………….

AIM- ILLAIM365

Yahoo- illiaimofdaconection

Msn- daconection@hotmail.com