smntks Says – Page 3 – Susan X Jane

Roots: Still Relevant, Kwiku Dog

Snoop Dog. Snoop Doggy Dog. Snoop Lion. DJ Snoopadelic. Snoopzilla. Big Snoop Dog. Snoop Scorcese. Over the course of his career, Calvin Broadous has worked under 7 different names. At the age of 45, he has been a rapper, actor, kids coach and rasta lion.

On the other hand, Kunta Kinte has always been and shall remain Kunta. Please DO NOT ask him to call himself Toby.

This week four channels under the A & E network will run the 2016 remake of the miniseries based on Alex Haley ‘s family history. The remake is well made, and as moving a story as before with an all-star team: Forrest Whitaker as Fiddler, and is executive produced by Lavar Burton. The remake is one of a handful of recent productions focusing on America’s darkest chapter of history including Underground, 12 years a Slave and Nate Parkers much anticipated Birth of a Nation.

But Snoop Whatever says these stories are no longer relevant. Is Snoop right about all these slave shows? Is America ignoring today’s racial tension in favor of whiteness’ walk down memory lane? Do these shows about the past keep us from moving forward?

Past present and future and bound together in an eternal equation. Toggling one part of the equation helps you solve for the rest. Snoop’s right when he says black people are still suffering today. Why not then see how those who rebalanced the equation before you did what they could? A lesson history teaches us is that your wokeness is not enough. Fighting, protests and even the changing will of many people has not resulted in equity for blacks–or any other group for that matter.

Watching Kunta take that whipping reminded me of the absolute power and strength that comes from being grounded in home and ancestry. But, at the end, he whispers Toby. This tiny whisper I used to think of as a sigh of defeat. When I was a child I wanted him to never give in. Now I know giving in is not giving up. That you can take a beating and live to fight another day with integrity intact.

As an adult traveling Americas treacherous waters of race, I was moved to see that he was willing to do whatever it takes to live and to keep fighting. That to whisper your slave name is not to be a slave. That Kunta–like me–could always carry his real name on the inside, no matter how the battle beats us down from day to day. Maybe that is what Snoop is missing.

Roots is not a slave story–it is the story of Africans enslaved who never laid down, who never gave up even when they wouldn’t see the fight finished in their lifetime. Roots shows black people in revolt, measuring their subversion for the greatest success, and building a life where there is none. They are not slaves, they are survivors. We are right be reminded that we are the children born of such power.

For young millennials who are hellbent on changing the world, watching Roots may seem like an old folks’ history lesson, but it is their history too. You’re wearing your hair natural, rocking dashikis and wax prints–why not a little throwback history too? When things get intense, its good to know your bloodline fought harder than a hashtag.

That is why Roots is still relevant. Snoop, your African name is still on the inside, too. You’ve referenced Italian directors, Japanese monsters, and Jamaican prophets in your name; maybe it’s time you found your Roots. You’re a child born on Wednesday: we’ll call you Kwiku Dog.

Five Sips of Lemonade

Two weeks ago Beyonce released her visual album Lemonade like a Kraken, instantly flooding the interwebs with thinkpieces dissecting everything from the symbolism of Nigerian facepaint to the marriage of her parents. She was even able to crowd Trump out of the headlines for a few hours, and make MSNBC question if they ousted Melissa Harris-Perry too soon.

By the following Monday Lemonade was spiking downloads at Jay-Z flagging music service Tidal. A day later, traditional release of the album propelled it to the top of the charts. After sipping this instant classic for a few weeks, it seems unimaginable that we ever lived without it.

The visual album is an hour-long piece that is more visual poem than music video. If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth the time–beautiful, lyrical and rich in every way. It is a full meal, not meant to be captured in a few screen shots, that walks us through the stages of a relationship in crisis from intuition through anger, apathy to hope.

What has made the video such a breakout piece is the powerful pro-black woman story. Rarely are black women represented in complex ways that allow their full humanity to show through.

Following the monster release comes a wave of products, tours and gossip magazine covers. Now we’re left with the fallout, the dregs of the hype, the parodies. This is the perfect time to look at Lemonade not for the hype of what it was to be, but to see what it really was. Pop culture is a dish best served cold.

Beyonce has been a star since she was a child,and her discography as a solo artist has helped her achieve megastardom. She is a talented singer and dancer. Her albums celebrated independent women, then she became Sasha fierce, fell drunk in love, sipped watermelon, and turned into Mrs. Carter in that order. Until recently she was not particularly woke, so even though Lemonade is powerful, and recent times have changed many of us, it’s worth a careful critique of Lemonade before we make Beyonce the head of the black feminist movement.

Lemonade is for Black women

Mainstream media is made for mainstream audiences–and in America, that means white audiences. When we see diverse faces in media, that doesn’t mean that the story comes from diverse voices. Even ABC’s multicultural programming is inclusive of white audiences–think the president in Scandal or the whitewashing of Eddie Huang’s Fresh Off the Boat.

Lemonade creates a space for black women that is about, for and starring black women with tons of diversity throughout the extensive credits for the album. The representation in the video celebrates black women in all their diversity, from the mothers of slain boys to the new breed of pop culture superheroes like Amandla Stenberg. Seeing a range of women like this beautifully and powerfully represented definitely gives me life.

That doesn’t mean that it is ONLY for black women. It may be created for black women but anyone can consume it. Like Vogue, or America for white people. If you want to comment on it, just make sure you check our own privilege (this may be time-consuming if you haven’t thought of it before, Piers Morgan), do your research (I’m looking at you, Fox), prepare for clapback and absolutely avoid telling black women what they should or should not do and stick just to your point of view on the video.

2. It takes a village to make lemonade

The visual album to Lemonade is a powerful and beautiful piece of work crafted by a team of young artist and creatives. remember, even Michelangelo didn’t paint that whole ceiling alone. While Queen Bey reigns as the artist, like lots of famous artists, she farms out the massive work here. On the visual album, Kahlil Joseph is listed as co-director with a classroom’s worth of amazing directors and cinematographers taking on parts of the visual album.

In addition to the music of lemonade, poet Warsan Shire is heavily featured in the visual album. I must admit the most moving words of Lemonade for me belonged to the poet. Her language is powerful and spare, leaving no words to hide behind. Here’s hoping we hear much more from this young lion.

Let’s not forget the fashion that made the video a feast for the eyes.

From the streets to the spirits to the days of the old south Lemonade proves the power of Bey and associates to slay…..as long as you don’t want to wear pants, not a lot of pants..just a few, but not really about pants.

Lemonade’s look is a world of black girl magic with nary a press and curl in sight. While many of Bey signature looks are from high-end designers like the Roberto Cavalli Dress, the whole is interspersed with street wear and plenty of African wax prints to render the style her own. Be careful of spreads that promise you the look for less–

Not sure any of these will really give you the look of a $4000 gown. While Bey’s original look is beautiful, like all things associated with Lemonade, this look takes long cash.

3. Lemonade isn’t cheap

As amazing as Lemonade is as art, when we I to check the price tag, I notice committing to Lemonade fully is going to cost you. Lemonade premiered on HBO with solid ratings–though notably behind Dragonball Z. Initially, the album could only be downloaded via Tidal. Guess she wasn’t too mad at Jay to throw a bone to the company the couple took a hit on last year. The album sold nearly 654,000 copies the first week and all 12 tracks made the charts, breaking Taylor Swift’s record. Seems like breaking up is good business for Bey.

The Queen is also launching a 40 city tour with tickets priced like used cars that’s selling out and adding shows. Before the tour gets hot she’s already grossed 100 mil. Can’t make the show? She had updated merch on her website that is sure to sell out just like her athleisure line. All in all, this stands to be one of her most lucrative year in years. Maybe she should be thanking Becky with the good hair. Hmm, is there a Lemonade weave line potentially?

Bey assured us in Formation that the best revenge is getting your paper and she sure seems hell bent on massive revenge. Seems like her fans are willing to pay to make it right. Even Jay-Z will get a cut with his credits and a boost to Tidal. Who said cheaters never win?

4. Lemonade is problematic (great, but problematic; chill please, Beyhive)

I watched the video, and I listened to the album and surprise : they are not the same. The visual album is rich with the words and work of a whole host of people and seems to tell a big story about being a black woman in this world. The musical album, by contrast, seems a more intimate and personal story. Stripped of Warsan Shire’s poetry, and the powerful visuals that call up our ancestors from West Africa and the south, the album is the personal story of a woman scorned. Fox News criticized Beyonce for being angry and militant in her new work but [with the exception of Formation which stands as its own piece separate from the narrative and I think is not part of the visual album. It seems much newer than other work, just tacked on at the end] the album is apolitical. Nowhere in the album are any words that directly address the storms being weathered by Black America nor the women shepherding us through it.

Instead, Lemonade is full of emotions, the pain of love lost, and the fight to get it back. These emotions are deeply relatable for anyone cheated on, not just black women. That’s important because a large part of the buying Beyhive is not young black women fighting for justice. The album speaks to her wider fan base. If you have a broken heart, this will help you for sure. If you are down for fighting patriachal oppression and systemic racism…umm…the vibe is there but the ablum lacks any substative take on today, unlike to Pimp a Butterfly or Talib Kweli’s collective Indy 500. What has been roundly hailed as an ode to black female empowerment seems to contain very little liberation.

In Lemonade, Beyonce tells a story where she discovers him cheating (Pray You Catch Me), tells him he done her wrong (Hold Up and Don’t Hurt Yourself), and goes out without him (Sorry). But then the storm has passed and the rest of the album is devoted to the work of getting back with Jay. All of the righteous anger turns into acquiescence, and acceptance. If even Beyonce puts up with doggish behavior, then what chance do any of us have to be women free from disrespect? Here is the first time in the piece that we see Jay Z, just a hand to cover her mouth, much it seems to her pleasure.

For sure relationships are complicated, and marriages even more so, but young women intent on overturning harmful structures could use a roadmap that includes some truth with the reconciliation. They are looking for new options, not a romantic return to gender roles. Detrmined to have their cake and eat it too, why not use the fantasy of music to show how liberated women get themselvs–and their men, if they choose –free. Romance? Cool, but could you put some respeck on it?

5. Lemonade is supposed to have a bite

Beyonce opens up a can of whoop-ass fueled with the pain of black women only to sweeten it with love songs and finish with sweet love all night long. How is this supposed to gel with the powerful women fighting for freedom that she shows in the film? Should Zendaya look to forgive people that said she smelled like a dirty hippie? Should Mike Brown’s mother’s “torturer become her remedy”? That certainly wouldn’t look like the freedom Beyonce sings about.

Like most stories about revolution these days, the revolution always seems to have a simple happy ending. Nice as that may be to end an album, it does little to help us envision a world where we’re truly free. If we tear down the culture, we have to build something else in its place. If the new something is the same as the old something, then the revolution failed. As exciting as it is to see black women represented in different and complex ways unless we have new endings, its all bullshit.

Black female empowerment isn’t a music video or a gap ad, but a real shift that is going to take a baseball bat to existing structures without a neat end to the love drought just two songs away.

The power of the best artists lay not only in their ability to show you the now but their skill and imagination to show us what’s next. There can be no doubt that Lemonade shows us a more sophisticated and woke Beyonce. Her careful read of her audience and the culture give us an exciting companion to other protest works like To Pimp a Butterfly or Indie 500. Here’s hoping that she keeps developing as an artist and blazes us a trail to better endings full of Freedom instead of swag.

Self Care in 5 Easy Steps

These times are hard: if you’re woke and paying attention, each day brings its own two-day sized dose of pain and heartache. The good news is that that feeling that you’re feeling is a side effect of revolution. But while you wait for the revolution to not be televised, how do you keep from dissolving into a puddle of woke up tears and anger? Smntks has a few tips to keep you in the struggle, no matter how real it gets.

Breathe: the first go to for some chill is surrounding that big heart of yours. Use those lungs to expel the poisonous energy we drink when we engage in spiritual battle with injustice. There’s a reason that yogis, sufi and puppies all expel breathe to reach maximum zen.

The conscious regulation of your breath calms your mind and floods your body with what it needs to make it to the next breath. String those breaths together and wha-la you’re meditating. Meditation is shown to increase all kinds of good things without the side effects of oh say Xanax and wine. Most importantly, give us a big dose of connection and empathy that can help us love our way through this crazy world. So take a breath–one that fills your lungs until you feel your own potential, and then push it out with all the fight I know you have in spades. Take five minutes of breaths. Take 500. They’re free.

Disconnect: You’re conscious. Me too. We’re not alone in this fight. It’s okay for you to take a break from the battlefield. There are a million of us here, so when you feel like you can’t take it anymore you have permission to exit, stage left, until you’re ready to reload. Sometimes the pressure–and the injustice itself makes us feel like we can never rest, but that is a sure recipe for failure. Shut off your media for a few days–studies say a three-day media detox can help you feel more balanced. Time away from the struggle can also help us remember what it is we are fighting for.

Find something nice to look at: What is your favorite thing to see? Kitties? Beaches? laughing children holding balloons? Go seek those things out and fill your eyes as deeply as you’ve filled your lungs. Research show that just looking at a large body of water can reset your inner workings. Besides, if eyes are the window to the soul, then our windows have surely been tainted by all we have been witnessing these last years. Clean your window with beautiful visions. Somewhere in your soul must reside the template of the utopic world you want to make. Every once in while, recharge that vision.

Make something: Fighting chaos and destruction can make us lose our way from the creator inside of us. Making something beautiful–whether it is a sock or a meal or an arrangement of flowers–can remind us of the power we have to complete copacetic constructions. Craft projects, unlike race and class, are constructions that you can control on your own. Making something–sock or society–is a process: slaying at the micro process of crafting will have you ready to slay the bigger beast of social process. You also might make something awesome for the battlefield!

Reconnect: Family and friends are not just for Facebook. Go see people that you love and who love you. Touch them (appropriately, please, unless they’re into it!), talk to them. look at how awesome the people that you know are. Ask the kids in your life about the future–and believe them. Talk about springtime, and spaceships and the time you laughed so hard milk came out of your nose. Give them something you made, and let them give you some love so you can top off for the next time the struggle gets too real.

These times, these times. We will look back and know that these were the times that changed everything. The moment is now, but don’t let that stop you from taking a moment to reconnect with the now inside of you. We need you–yes, you– to be a healthy conscious happy warrior for justice. So take a break. The fight will be here when you get back.

P.S. If you make something post a pic in the comments and I’ll share it out!

Smells Like Teen Spirit

I was in line at T.J. Maxx in the gauntlet–you know the line that’s lined with socks and kitchen gadgets and stuff you don’t need but are likely to buy if you’re stuck looking at it long enough–and I saw this little gem:

I saw this candle with no frame of reference for how “ivy league” would smell but like cops and presidential politics, the old Ivory towers have faced their own waves of upheaval over the last two years. So maybe it smells like old money and racists S.A.E. frat boys? Perhaps it smells like a mattress worn by the girl next to you to bring attention to the lack of administrative response to sexual assault. Or is it the heady fragrance of pepper spray and banner paint. It certainly doesn’t smell like sunshine and roses.

Higher ed is a microcosm of the wider society–and if done right, should be first to incubate, test and perfect new ideas and ways of being. Campuses roiling with tension need real solutions that–when developed thoughtfully–can help the rest of society follow into post-apocalyptic paradise. And they’re full of young people fired up and ready to go.

This grey candle of college sure didn’t smell like like America’s shiny future, but it’s not too late to cook up some new scents–humility and transcendent humanity? superstrings and singularity? Let’s just start with the simple scent of justice and love. Anyone have a match?

New Walls, New Ways

How many words can you hurl at the behemoth of hate before your arm falls off, or worse yet, you come to despise the futility of your own meager weapons?

2015, by any measure, was pretty shitty. Unless you don’t watch the news, you know the past ~~month~~ ~~season~~ year has been intense–full of bad news, real tragedies and a world wide wrestling match with the most difficult issues humanity faces. I teach about media and race so this is my wheelhouse–writing about it all the time should be a given with so much to address.

But this year has tested even those of us who are comfortable in the challenging arena of isms. How many times can you explain that yes, racism exists, and no calling out racism does not make you a racist. How many words can you hurl at the behemoth of hate before your arm falls off, or worse yet, you come to despise the futility of your own meager weapons?

Tucked in between 1,134 black men killed by police, racism also made a come back in higher ed: remember the threats at University of Missouri, racism at fraternity SAE in March and at a different chapter in November and, in case you missed it, a heated debate in higher ed around professors’ using the n– word in class. Between writing, teaching about race and media, and fighting the local battle in my own tower, I ended the year despising more than just the futility of my weapons.

As an nontenured faculty of color at a predominately white college that focuses in part on social justice I believe I have a duty to prepare students who will combat structural inequality with a solid understanding of systems of oppression. Not surprisingly, our little community is not unlike many of the other higher ed institutions “dealing” with diversity issues.

I have been reminded that to speak out against racism, to name that racism exists in our community is a brave thing to do. The unspoken flip side to this compliment is that to name racism at the institution is dangerous business. I work on a contract, and can be released from my job of 10 years at the end of the year with no reason given. A decade of good teaching evaluations or hard work will not protect me. Each time I open my mouth and call out the racism I see, I am at risk. And I have felt at risk. Every time. Break came just in time to retreat and lick my wounds.

But every day is a new day, and a new year? Well, that’s a time for magic. I needed to clear the deck to get writing. Since the year has been so heavy, this isn’t any average clear the deck–I’m in my writing room stripping shit down to the bare walls.

Something about working on a household project unlocks a way of working on yourself. Stripping wallpaper is a junior high level metaphor for cleansing for a new year, so no surprise as I do I’m thinking about letting go, razing the ground to grow something, anything untainted by this years infestations.

But I’m also learning about how to pull down wallpaper that has been stuck to the wall since the 1950s. While hacking away with water and an ice scraper, I learned something surprising. the best way to pull it down is gently, softly and with love. Sure the wallpaper was coming up with the scrapper in resistant tight crumpled rows, begrudgingly, and an inch at a time. but if I spray it lightly, wait patiently and pull gently at the decay it comes off in long lacy strands that fall apart at the slightest touch.

While having drinks with my parents, my father said he always wished he could be forgiving. I was surprised: I reminded him that he had indoctrinated me with a pathological ability to let go. So many days coming home from being bullied at school, he would simply tell me, “Not everyone’s going to like you. Let it go.” When I gnashed my teeth and plotted revenge he would rustle his paper, fanning away the evil deeds of the world with a terse, “Get over it.”

He laughed when I reminded him. “I may have told you that, but that doesn’t mean I did it. I’ve never been able to forgive.” Quick to reinforce the old lesson, he added, “It’s good to forgive. Then you’re free and you don’t carry it your whole life.” I’ve spent years forgiving and this year more than any, trying to be free of the pain of racism big and small.

The promise of forgiveness is freedom. But when people refuse to acknowledge your humanity, much less take responsibility for trying to diminish you, forgiveness starts to feel too much like granting permission. I have been pained to learn that sometimes forgiveness means you carry the memory for those who forget they victimize you, and it is them that goes free, unburdened by having to confront their own small mindedness and bad acts.

Google wallpaper removal and their are lots of choices: chemicals to burn it off, machines to blast steam to disintegrate it off, paper tigers to shred it off. I thought that ripping off the wallpaper would give me a chance to rip something up, to release the burden of all I have forgiven, but instead I find just another reminder that this slow gentle relentless attack, for me, is the only way. Two days later I am still in there, peeling it off, rubbing it gently with water and then easing it off, sliding it to the floor and patting the wall clean.

Why? I want a clean room but I care about the wall underneath–I don’t want to be left with holes to fill and scratches to heal. My soft strategy rewards me. At the cost of checking my desire to destroy, the wallpaper comes off in long strands still holding the memory of all it saw. The war that I thought I wanted turned out to be a long moving mediation–both on the walls and in the work.

So I’ll scrape the walls slowly, and when they and my mind are clean I can return to the larger battle. With each strand in the pile I remind myself of the reasons to keep scraping away at racism. Fuck forgiveness and the risk of raising your fist. I speak out anyway. Because that’s who I have chosen to be. Because the students deserve teachers willing to advocate for their dignity. Because that is the job of a teacher–to provide a space for students to learn and grow. Because I have a responsibility to model what I teach. Because I will not be silent when something must be said. Because with no justice then can never be peace. Because racism hurts white people and they deserve to know the truth. Because hate will not eradicate itself. Because I believe that we can be better. Because I am black. Because I am human. Because we the people are still trying to form a more perfect union.

Because the moment is now. Happy new year.

Your First Holiday Gift is Here!

With the end of Halloween starts that most intimate of season–the shopping season. Ahh, a time to curl up with a warm credit card, surround yourself with brand name goods, and share with your loved ones that most important of human emotions–the joy of opening a gift from the Apple store.

Let the onslaught of advertising begin! Deck the halls with piles of flyers selling disposable goods made unethically! Don you now an extra fifteen pounds from the constant push of candy and comfort foods! And rest you merry gentleman on the bench at the mall!

Lest you forget the real meaning of the season, I remind you that the period of time from Thanksgiving to Christmas is the most important time for retailers to turn slow summer sales into bottom line black ink magic. While people from both left and right fight for a less commercial Christmas season, the battle is not with bah-humbug atheists, but with bless-us-every-one businesses whose profit is tied up inextricably with your desire to give and receive love through the proxy of consumer goods. Do you really think they are going to abdicate profit to your childhood nostalgia? Not likely.

This graph shows retail sales by month from 2003-2011, showing the majority of retail sales come between October and December.

If you think those decrying to direct connection between family, feelings, and black Friday are forcing it, take a look at this ad from Best Buy, the first Christmas ad to air nationwide.

The ad, entitled “Win the Holidays” starts the season like the opening of a competition. we are thinking or feeling, but competing to kill it this Christmas. Don’t forget, its not just a gift, it is the key to love, as the ad explicitly reminds us.

So I give to you your first gift of the holiday season: freedom from the big lie of a consumer driven holiday season. iPads and bags from Macy’s and the right flaky biscuits and a beautiful sparkly rock are not love. Buying gifts for the holidays will not make your family happier beyond the morning of when they rip open gifts like wolves.

Believing that your love and relationships are paid for in black Friday lines or wrapped in Amazon boxes is a lie we choose to buy into when we are crushed beneath a tsunami of ads full of hugging families. I free you from believing this. I assure you that nagging feeling that you have that none of this shopping will deliver the promised intimacy is right; That suspicion that you will be equally happy hanging out and saving your money for snacks and warm blankies for cuddling in is confirmed. I gift you this reminder that the magic of the season comes from inside you, not inside a plastic shopping bag.

A Year Without Sleep

This week marks the one year anniversary of the death of Michael Brown. The recent graduate was walking down the street when he encountered former Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson. Three minutes later he was dead. Within hours of his death the first protests formed on the very street he was shot on. The protests have not stopped since.

Nor have the deaths of unarmed Black men and women at the hands of the state. The last year has seen the largest number of people killed by police, even as the nation has paid more attention to the issue, and the calls for action have been the loudest in decades. For anyone passing through America’s race problems unaware, this year provides an answer to a question that floated gently over America on the night of Obama’s first election–is racism over?–with an emphatic no.

From streets echoing with cries for justice to politricks and cable news echoing with old school racism, this past year has served to shake the sleepy giant of the American masses from their slumber and awaken it from its dream of racial harmony. Americans wake to find some of we the people are suffering the outrageous slings and arrows of white supremacy. They wake to see young leaders of the new civil rights movement taking up the arms of protest against a sea of troubles.

Even as republican presidential candidates bemoan the rise of political correctness, we sail past the tipping point, unlikely to make a full return to times when it is acceptable–and sometime good fun, wink, wink–to disparage blacks openly in the media. Significant because behind the battle over the words we use floats the scepter of power, hanging in the balance as the country moves towards a majority minority population. Make no mistake, this new world we find ourself in is not the promised land, but the wide murky territory between what we used to be and what we ought to be, a land full of deadly mines, traps and open warfare.

blacklivesmatter-455x301 — photo credit: Tim Pierce, https://www.flickr.com/photos/qwrrty/15353495103/

Being awake this year has been difficult at some times, soul-crushing others. Bearing witness and speaking truth and two heavy burdens born by the conscious. It does not alway feel good to be awake, but to close your eyes to the reality of the world you pass through isn’t really living. To ignore the oppression of the people of your own nation stands as treason to the dream of a people created equal. So stay up, and pay tribute to the life of Michael Brown with eyes that stay open.

For People of Color Witnessing Police Homicides When the Body Cameras are Not Enough

Ockham’s razor tells us that the simplest answer is the best answer. Just under a year ago, there was a massive push to get cameras on cops after the Mike Brown shooting. But this simple answer has not been enough. What cameras have given us, instead, is a front row seat to police violence. We can watch and judge for ourselves what is happening. We can point to the murderous truth of bad police shootings. Still it keeps happening.

The recently released footage of the stops of Sandra Bland and Sam Dubose are shocking only in the scope of tragedies contained in their footage. Those who already know Black lives matter are heartbroken again. What the police video assures us is that if we step out of line, some cops will not hesitate to hurt or kill us. That if you speak out, your rights will mean nothing. That if you hesitate, they will not. That if you run, you are as good as dead. No matter if you are a man, woman, young, old, wholly innocent or unadjudicated suspect.

We watched them kill Tamir Rice. We saw Sandra Bland’s bad stop before her death in police custody. Poised for reaction, Cincinati officals released the the footage of Sam Dubose murder along with a warrent for the killer cop. What these incidents tell us is that cameras are not enough. The video in none of these cases helped to preserve the lives of the victims of police violence. While two of these three cases will lead to charges against the officers involved, the introduction of video into policing has not stopped officers from taking the law into their own hands.

The fact that cameras alone have not stopped extrajudicial police killings means that there are deeper issues at play. So, what are the other blocks in this justice jenga?Implicit bias in individual and the system, and a public slow to condemn violence against blacks (even as they weep about Cecil the lion). Camera are giving us the data we need to acknowledge some of these deeper issues so the real work can begin.

Why would a cop murder someone knowing he is wearing a body cam? Perhaps he doesn’t care–he is a true “bad apple” lacking conscience or control. He’s a socipath. Maybe the murder of Sam Dubose was so out of control that he didn’t care what the tape caught. In this case, the body cam could prevent future crimes against citizens now that he is behind bars, but the broader fix is to address hiring and training of police to prevent disturbed individuals from holding rank.

Maybe a cop would act out on tape because he believes his partners and fellow cops will hold the thin blue line and cover for him or her. Crazy? Like a fox. We’ve seen countless cases this year when the official story was a cover job to keep a bad cop from facing deserved justice. In this case, we need an overhaul of our justice systems, a radical reimagining that creates checks and balances, systems that ensure that law enforcement is accountable and responsible to those whom they are hired to protect and serve.

Think about your job. How many of your customers could die at your hands before you would be fired and policies would be reviewed? I’m a teacher–the answer is 0. If a student dies in the care of a school, or a customer dies while eating at a restaurant, the public cries for justice and reform. If a citizen dies at the hands of the police, the public may ask what he or she did to deserve it. Racism has pervaded American culture since the introduction of enslaved Africans at Jamestown. The bias against people of color must first be acknowledged and then addressed before we can celebrate the achievement that is the America of the Declaration of Independence.

I remind you that the police have no legal justification for shooting unarmed citizens. but our discourse languishes in the relative culpability of the victims. For those of us who value black bodies, these videos traumatizes us. We are watching people die time and time again, people who look like us, like the people we love, people that are us. Just as a fabulous commercial with your favorite celeb is engineered to make you think that you too can be that, so too do dash cams remind us, like a burning cross, to stay in our place or be executed. I say to you don’t despair, don’t give up, don’t believe the hype. Black lives matter isn’t a slogan, it’s a simple truth and a siren song that has guided us from slavery and jim crow to civil rights and the white house. As protesters in Cinicinati chanting Kendrick Lamar’s words last night reminded us–we gonna be all right.

https://youtu.be/Y8lXXU_0ehM

Build Media Mind Muscles

Learning to think about media, or media literacy, is both fun and functional. Sure we live in a media saturated world, straight mainlining image and messages 24.7–but do you think about it? Do you ask yourself why are there 1000 channels and nothing on? Why is the news so bad at the news? What is the payoff to tastemakers to work so hard to manufacture our tastes? Thinking critically about the content we see and the conveyer belt that shoves images our way can help us make meaning out of the mush.

Media messages shape the way that we think about ourselves, our planet, and each other. The unreal world created by movies, TV and new media can define for us what is real, what is happening, who deserves the very best, and who deserves what they get. Big issues, like the definition and redefinition of race class and gender

the state of the planet and our responsibility in it

and even the line of right and wrong

are framed for us but the media that surrounds us.

You can combat the consequences of believing everything you see and hear by thinking about the media that surrounds you. Start to notice what media tells you about who’s who and ask if that lines up with the real wold we inhabit. Notice the way that music, images and words are combined to create stories–that may or may not be true. Watch the way one story can stand in for a whole group of people. Be aware of how media sells you some dangers while helping others hide in plain sight. Start small, but just think.

Here are a couple of sites that are finding interesting ways to get us to think about the media that we see every day and encourages us to explore that most critical of questions: why?

If we live in a country with nearly 40% people of color, why are the movies like another country? If you think they aren’t, try out Every Single Word. Actor and playwright Dylan Marron has edited down Hollywood films to only the words spoken by a person of color. You can check out some of of your favorite movies and–spoiler alert–it won’t take you long. Here my favorite, Noah. As you see the movie cut to include only utterances of people of color, I remind you this story is set in Turkey.

In the middle of summer nothing is more pleasurable than a dip in the deep blue. Just in time, the discovery channel gives us a one week dose of shark fear in Shark week programming. These shark horror stories along with sensational news reports of shark attacks highlighted in the news makes it seem like Jaws is hiding behind every wave.

But what if we thought of sharks as beautiful and majestic and mostly uninterested in eating people–which they are. VW gives you a chance to remix the shark-track and wha-la a kinder friendlier shark is just a few string instruments away.

Keep looking for ways small and big to think about the messages you see. Media literacy is a practice, and like knitting or running, the more you think about media, the more you’ll build your critical thinking, and free yourself from unnecessary shark nightmares!

Flying Underground

The confederate flag is slated to come down over the capitol of South Carolina–long overdue and worth the celebration. Public opinion was enflamed to this political movement by the terrorist attack at Emmanuel African Methodist Episcopal church in Charleston, resulting in the death of 9 people. While the flag is coming down, the racist ideology that it represents won’t go in a museum, just underground.

In our 24/7 media saturated world, an event like the Charleston massacre takes over the airwaves, igniting public debate and sometimes–like with the flag–can result in a groundswell of movement that results in real change. Sometimes, like in the weeks after the Newtown massacre, the public pressure to create political change isn’t enough to overcome obstructionist policies and plays.

When we are done celebrating this latest victory, remember that the flag is gone from the capitol, but Dylann Roof has yet to be convicted of the terror attack, and the racist hate groups that radicalized him operate unabated. Just 2 days ago the prosecutor in Roof’s case reminded us he is innocent until proven guilty. I get that this is how the justice system goes, but it is a real reminder that in the furor over the flag little has been done to increase the accountability for domestic terrorists. This is not over.

Symbols play an important role in society, especially because we are an image based culture. Simply put–optics matter. At their heart, though, symbols are the visual representation of some object or idea. Here is a graphic called a semantic triangle that illustrates this:

In South Carolina, we can pull down the flag, but that has not actually destroyed the ideology of white supremacy that the flag represents. In the weeks since the debate over the flag began, there was a sharp spike in sales of confederate flags, and despite Nascar’s best effort to eradicate the flag at it’s latest race, their flag exchange program was a bust.

Dozens of articles and hours of information have painted a clear historical line from the white supremacist ideology in the civil war, through segregation, past burning crosses and leading into the still-active and quite deadly white supremacist groups that operate in America today. The flags innocent appearance in Lynard Skynard t-shirts and Dukes of Hazards episodes are not separate from the more nefarious incarnation of the flag–same flag, same southern pride. The politicians that resurrected the flag during segregation explicitly intentionally tied the symbol to southern pride in it’s tradition of segregation and slavery so that a million –sometime unwitting–voices would keep their message alive.

The wave of public pressure on this issue has come to wipe the flag off the pole.The flag is down, the referent is gone, but the ideology persists and there is not groundswell to address the real perpetrators. The internet hate machine, the very real domestic terrorist groups who have killed more Americans than ISIS, The kings of hate who cozy up to republicans. The flag is gone, but hate survives.

So celebrate this small victory in the summer sun, but don’t forget that there still lurks terror beneath. We’ve going to need more sustained public engagement. We’re going to have to admit that the most deadly terror attacks to Americans are perpetrated not by ISIS, but by US militia groups. We’re going to need a bigger boat.