Ossie Davis & Ruby Dee

Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee raised three children of their own, and generations of Americans. From the beginning, they both wove their activism into their acting. In the jobs they took, the performing of their roles, and their own writing and productions, they taught their audiences about the possibilities of a world of equity. In his own words, from With Ossie and Ruby, Ossie explained, “…we triumphed, thanks to a strategy that assured us the victory: Simply, we learned how to belong to the people for whom we worked – mostly black people. They were, and still are, the audience that never made us rich, but never let us down.”

From the beginning, their work was a reflection of their lives, and the generations of racism and hope that came before them, and the dreams they had for those who would come after. During the McCarthy era, when a communist witch hunt attempted to silence Civil Rights dissenters, Ossie and Ruby were part of the growing number of artists in New York who refused to be silenced by their own government, and instead created conscious-raising art with Jews, like a middle finger to McCarthy. “We felt that we were among people who understood and appreciated what we had to share,” Ossie wrote (With Ossie and Ruby). Their work in the play The World of Sholom Aleichem brought them to Local 1199, Retail Drug Workers Union, a union representing mostly Jewish, Hispanic, and Black people interested in using art to further their goals of creating economic freedom for their members. Ossie wrote The People of Clarendon County for Union 1199, telling the story of the Briggs v. Elliott case, which was one of five argued under Brown v. Board of Education. Ossie and Ruby would continue to work on projects with 1199, the union Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would refer to has his favorite union.

Ossie and Ruby were personally committed to the Civil Rights movement- their lives, and the lives of their children depended on it. Ruby, specifically, was interested in bringing the two seemingly polar opposite Civil Rights leaders, Dr. King and Malcolm X together. Juanita Poitier and Ruby organized an informal summit to take place a year after the 1963 March on Washington (at which Malcolm was present, behind the scenes, Ruby reminds us in With Ossie and Ruby). They invited the luminaries of the movement, Dr. King, Malcolm, Dorothy Height, Whitney Young, Lorraine Hasberry, Roy Wilkins and A. Philip Randolph. Sidney Poitier also attended. Dr. King, jailed at the time, could not come, and sent an emissary. Imagine, the static of frenzied activity, just barely contained in these bodies of those who took up the mantle of their people without questioning, why me, but only asking, how do we move forward? Ruby recalls the discussion flowed naturally, and a plan to formulate a Declaration of Human Rights for Black Americans was made. Malcolm would visit Ossie and Ruby one last time, days before he would unveil the plans he had for the movement, days before he was assassinated.

When they appeared or worked together, Ossie was clearly the more loquacious one; Ruby meted out her words, spending time listening, and considering before speaking. On The History Makers An Evening with Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee (10/18/2002), Ruby recalled an ancient regret. She had once asked Malcolm to put his iconic rifle away in a room of her home, rather than leaving it in the rear window of the truck he drove, because there were to be photographers at a party she and Ossie held for Malcolm, and she didn’t want anyone to get nervous, seeing the photos with Malcolm’s gun in them. “Oh God, I think about it now” she recalls, “and I missed all those pictures- because I was intimidated, too. And now that I am older, I feel I am no longer intimidated, I am old enough to do anything I damn well please.”

Ossie and Ruby’s activism only increased as they got older. They took roles in the upstart Spike Lee’s movies, they focused on speaking and reaching out to the next generation, on the ultimate need to educate so we would not forget the dark past and repeat it. For Ruby, this is the natural work of those “65 and older- We have a few brain cells left, a few dollars in the bank- it’s time to make it time again,” she said in 2002, her cadence increasing with the urgency of her words, “We can’t go down the sink hole behind these people who are not worthy of what this country still represents.”

Ossie and Ruby’s legacy is that of education. They educated their children, their audiences, their people, and all Americans; they sought to lift us up, using their art as a vehicle. They never faltered, never let fear overcome or cower them. “We have to make absolutely sure that the materials of our lives are available to them,” Ossie said. And Ruby expounded, “I learned we have to cross-fertilize each other, in terms of thinking. And that the generations coming in do have something to offer and the frustrations that they experience are not to be taken lightly, and we can help, we can change, we can exchange ideas- And we can help save them- I think they’re waiting for us to-” (History Makers 10/18/2002)

Ruby’s words ring as true now as they did in 2002: We can’t go down the sink hole behind these people who are not worthy of what this country still represents. And it’s time now that we save ourselves.

for more on Ossie and Ruby: http://www.ossieandruby.com/

and, a bonus clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krUzdIvsw4s

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Playing Pretend

I felt him before I saw him. Something changed the air around me, and I looked up and saw him. I drank him in. Tall, dark, broad, with this natural ease. I couldn’t pull my eyes away, and then I noticed the book he carried- one I had read recently. I don’t even remember what book it was. I do remember we happily chatted for a while, I may have even let my train stop come and go to keep talking to him. And then we sat in the station at his stop, and talked some more. Of course he had someone. He was too good not to. But, for a train ride, he was mine.

In the end, it was a really good conversation with an interesting stranger. The kind of conversation that lifts you, gives you lightness under your feet. We chastely exchanged contact information, with no plot other than a distant friendly connection. Good people are still curious. And over the years, we’ve watched each other through the safe distance of social media. We sometimes catch up with a short conversation, we often forget about each other. But, one day, I met this perfect stranger on a train.

I didn’t ask about a silly book to start a book club with this handsome man on a train. I had looked at him, and in that moment had already imagined what it would be like to kiss him, feel him against me. The book was pretext. It could have been a great book, too. But I couldn’t have cared less about the damn book. I can remember the thrill of capturing his attention. I may have blushed. I probably did.

Fantasies are tricky. They are easy to breathe life into, hard to control, you often find yourself stumbling over your own feet to decide how to move forward. What I like most about my stranger is that he is happy. He is happy to go with someone else’s plan, and he is happy to enjoy the moment he is in. He is happy to be in new places and meet new people and see new things. And it’s not about the novelty of it all, the saying he’s done this or that, it is because he actually finds happiness in these things.

That, and he is smart. Smarter than me, maybe- Smart enough certainly that I can learn a thing or two from him. An alpha in his field. Someone with ambition not just to make money, gain all those things the world around you tells you to, but ambition to excel at what he does. Ambition to do his job well and lead others to do the same. Ambition to change those things he can. So few people these days have that sort of ambition. Some never did, some have had it beaten out of them. He is these things, and compassionate and generous at the same time. Not just with things, that is easy, but with himself, his time.

I decided all this in a number of stops. I built him as he stood in front of me, with minimal contribution needed from him. Then I got on a train and went home. I left my perfect stranger- perfect because he’s a stranger- to his strange life, and rode the train back to mine. I met a perfect stranger one day. Reality doesn’t touch him, doesn’t burn the walls down around me; he’s fiction, beyond all that, and I do so love playing pretend.

 

 

Mahommah Gardo Baquaqua

Of the 130 million books published (estimated by Google) 204 are Slave Narratives; autobiographies, biographies, and memoirs written about Africans enslaved in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Only one Narrative about an African enslaved in Brazil has been published, that of Mahommah Gardo Baquaqua.

Dictated to Irish abolitionist Samuel Moore in Canada in 1854, Baquaqua’s Narrative is the only known Narrative of the approximately 5.5 million Africans brought to Brazil as slaves (4.8 million of whom survived the travel). (blackwomenofbrazil.co) Of the 10.7 million Africans who survived the Trans-Atlantic Trade (12.5 million were traded), approximately 6,000 Slave Narratives, including broadsheets and about 2,500 oral histories have been recorded, according to Marion Wilson’s 1964 dissertation, “The Slave Narrative: Its Place in American Literary History.” Baquauqua’s account is thus incredibly unique and valuable, and tragically brief, at just 20 typed pages, and with much commentary by Moore.

Brazil has been as reluctant as the United States in facing it’s dark history; Baquaqua’s Narrative was published in Portuguese (Brazil’s official language) for the first time at the end of 2015. The country has only mandated the teaching of Black History in schools since 2003.

There is no national mandate for teaching Black History in the United States. Only seven of 50 states have mandated Black History education in public schools. (King, LJ “The Status of Black History in U.S. Schools and Society” Social Education, 2017, National Council for the Social Studies). More embarrassingly, in 2014, the Teaching Tolerance project by the Southern Poverty Law Center graded 20 states as “failing” in their education standards for the civil rights era, and in five states civil rights education was completely absent. Of the 388,000 Africans traded to the US approximately 150 Narratives have been published.

Baquaqua’s Narrative depicts an Africa in which slavery is fairly common place between peoples of varying origin- slavery was used as a punishment for those who broke the rules of the kings of the lands they were living in. Prisoners of war also became slaves, and were often ransomed to their families, if they were of sufficient means. The treatment/status of those enslaved within Africa as described by Baquaqua was comparatively highly preferable to what he experienced in Brazil. The enslaved in Africa could one day be the master, and the master become enslaved, depending on which side won that day. This was not true in Brazil, where the enslaved had no chance of gaining their freedom.

After having been betrayed by his own people and sold into slavery to a rival army (a not uncommon practice), Baquaqua was sold to an African trader whose business it was to sell enslaved persons far from the individual’s home. Baquaqua was bought and sold several times as he was marched through Africa, finally to be placed in the hold of a slave ship. Before he was shipped by river to be sold to a slave ship bound for Brazil, Baquaqua fell into despair, “When we arrived here I began to give up all hopes of ever getting back to my home again…at last, hope gave way; the last ray seemed fading away and my heart felt sad and weary within me, as I thought of my home, my mother.”

In his narrative, Baquaqua seeks to educate those whom he sees as ignorant to the obvious fact of the humanity of the enslaved African. He is at times imploring, “Some persons suppose that the African has none of the finer feelings of humanity within his breast, and that the milk of human kindness runs not through his composition; this is an error, an error of the grossest kind; …the same impulses drive them to action, the same feelings of love move within their bosom the same maternal and paternal affections are there, the same hopes and fears, griefs and joys, indeed all is there as in the rest of mankind; the only difference is their color, and that has been arranged by him who made the world and all that therein is… therefore why should any despise the works of his hands which has been made and fashioned according to his Almighty power, in the plentitude of his goodness and mercy.” At other times his incredulity and sarcasm comes through, “Oh! friends of humanity, pity the poor African, who has been trepanned and sold away from friends and home, and consigned to the hold of a slave ship, to await even more horrors and miseries in a distant land, amongst the religious and benevolent.”

Baquaqua converted to Christianity in Haiti, after gaining freedom in New York where abolitionists forced the courts to interview the enslaved on trade ships harbored. He traveled to Canada when Haiti began drafting for militia. He dictated his memoirs, and looked to the future of humanity through the lens of his new, cherished faith, “Oh! Christianity thou soother of man’s sufferings, thou guide to the blind, and strength to the weak, go thou on thy mission, speak the peaceful tidings of salvation all around and make glad the heart of man, ‘then shall the wilderness be glad and blossom as the rose.’ Then will slavery with all its horrors ultimately come to an end, for none possessing thy power and under thy influence can perpetuate a calling so utterly at variance with, and repugnant to all thy doctrines.”

Dick Gregory

Dick Gregory was the first black performer to sit down and be interviewed, as a white performer would be, after his set on The Tonight Show Starring Jack Paar in 1961. On August 19, 2017, upon hearing of Gregory’s death, Dave Chapelle told his audience in Radio City Music Hall he would not be standing on that stage had it not been for Dick Gregory. For the second time, a black person changed US history simply by demanding their right to take a seat. Dick Gregory paved the way for comedic geniuses like Chappelle, Chris Rock, Bill Cosby, and Richard Pryor; all who used comedy to shine a light on the absurdity of racism.

Dick Gregory, born in St. Louis, October 12, 1932, is certainly best known for his biting and witty comedy, a talent he found after he was drafted in 1954 from Southern Illinois University. He returned to the University after his service, then soon continued to pursue a career in comedy, working for the Postal Service during the day. His big break came when Hugh Hefner saw him perform at the Roberts Show Bar, and hired him for the Playboy Club. It was during this time Gregory caught the attention of Paar at The Tonight Show who eventually personally called Gregory to ask why he had so far refused the invitation to appear on the show. Gregory told Paar he would appear only if he were treated the same way as the white entertainers, and invited to sit down with Paar after his routine. Gregory and Paar made history.

Gregory’s career turned to one of activism and service in the 60’s. He was moved by the myriad social injustices he observed in the world, beginning with racism in the states and expanding out to include the Iran hostage crisis, Northern Ireland IRA prisoners, and poverty in Ethiopia. In the United States, Gregory joined with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Selma in 1963 to speak before Freedom Day. He was arrested after speaking, but was released and joined the march the next day. In 1965, Gregory was shot in the knee helping police restore order after the 1965 Watts riots in Los Angeles. He was not afraid to put his body and life on the line to promote social change. In 1978, a self-proclaimed and outspoken feminist, Gregory joined with the heavy hitters of his day, Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Bella Abzug, Margaret Heckler, and Barbara Mikulski and 100,000 people to lead the National ERA March for Ratification and Extension down Pennsylvania Avenue.

Gregory employed public fasting as a tactic in his fight for social justice. His first fast in 1967 was in protest of the Vietnam War, and lasted for 40 days. At the end of the fast he was 97 pounds. In 1968 he fasted for 45 days in support of Native Americans. In 1969 he fasted for 45 days protesting the defacto segregation of Chicago public schools. In 1970 he fasted for 81 days to bring attention to the narcotics epidemic sweeping inner cities. And, in 1971 Gregory began a 3 year stint without consuming solid food  During this time, he also ran 900 miles from Chicago to DC to again protest Vietnam.

In 1968 Gregory, every thinking outside the box, ran for President against Nixon and to bring attention to the problems with the two party system. He garnered 47,000 write-in votes. He also narrowly escaped being jailed by the Treasury for printing money with his face on it to promote his campaign. In his book, Write Me In, Gregory writes sarcastically about the absurdity of the Treasury’s threat of arrest, “Everyone knows the black man will never be on a US bill.” Dick Gregory was intent on using all tactics at his disposal to force social justice issues. He was tireless in his pursuit of a peaceful existence.

In a 2001 Interview with Democracy Now! Gregory explained the title to his then latest book, Callus on My Soul, came from the experience of poor black people, who could not afford good shoes and thus developed calluses- “a callus will wear out a shoe before the shoe wears out the foot that was made by God.” Gregory wrote about the strength created by growing up black in the United States. Callus was the second autobiographical book Gregory wrote, after the wildly popular nigger, published in 1964. He has written or contributed to 25 books. His last book, Defining Moments in Black History: Reading Between the Lies, was published posthumously, September 5, 2017.

After a lifetime of growing up in and fighting the most egregious, bombastic- for its unapologetic openness- conspiracy known; institutionalized American racism, Gregory’s later years were fraught with the specter of conspiracies from every corner. Starting with his first protest in high school, fighting for the replacement of aging black high schools in his district of St. Louis, Richard Claxton Gregory’s life’s work was standing between the people and the governments that held them hostage- in chains or in poverty- he lived in and left this world as a warrior.

 

 

i’m… sort of… maybe… back?

along with workingwohl.com; growing my design and development business, i hope to also revive this perpetually neglected blog. at least you will have a Black History piece to read monthly. i will be reposting the article i write for the JHU Black Faculty and Staff Association monthly newsletter. i hope to add to that op eds and personal musings.

“It’s not you”

There’s a double meaning to this beloved break-up go to that I don’t think is given enough attention.

We all know the generally accepted meaning, especially as it’s almost always accompanied by “I can’t get over this ex,” or “I’m damaged,” or “I’m not in the right place…” The “it’s not you” part is meant to focus on what you have no control over- the other person. You can’t solve this problem. Over. Done. No chance. But, you know, don’t feel badly about it, you can’t do anything about it, so you should be cool, right?

But, it’s also “not you” in another way. It’s not YOU- you’re not the one they’re willing to work for, to try to be with. You’re not the one worth their time and effort to get over their shit. And, let’s be real. We all have shit, baggage, something. “It’s not you” is a lie concealing the truth out in the open: It’s not you – it will be someone else.

Some of you are shaking your heads right now. “No, no, no, It’s TRUE sometimes! It happens. Someone could REALLY like the other person, but it’s bad timing.” But, those of us who know better, who are intimately familiar with “it’s not you-” we know it’s bullshit, trite, and in just a short while, there will be someone else whom “it is.” Could be a week or a month later- how’s that for timing? you were just a week away- but, now it’s someone else. It’s wasn’t you, no, it was them. You see? We’re just not buying this, “it’s not you” line.

Because, if it WAS you- if you were the person they wanted to be with, they considered worth it- you’d be having a completely different conversation, wouldn’t you?

Have the balls, the consideration, to just be real. Say something with actual tones of respect. “Sorry, I just don’t see this long-term,”You’re not the one for me,” “You don’t even watch Breaking Bad.” Whatever, just something less trite and insincere than “it’s not you.”

Taylor Swift, or why women are our own worst enemies

I sat down to write a completely different blog tonight. But when I logged onto WordPress there was a comment waiting for me. Not from one of my amazing loyal readers, but from a troll. Not just any troll, but the woman who stalked me and threatened me after my then boyfriend broke up with me to be with her, whom he was cheating on me with. She stalked and threatened to have me raped after she successfully broke us up. Why?

And why would she, after a year has passed, still be trolling me? Still be reading my blog, following my Instagram and Facebook- and taking the time to write nasty things to me- why?

Which brings us to Taylor Swift, and the completely ridiculous backlash she has received because she has accumulated a posse of some seriously badass women. Women, who like herself, have risen to the top of their game. We should be celebrating this awesome group of friends. Women everywhere should be high-fiving each other, acknowledging what a fucking cool example Swift is, welcoming women into this circle of friends with truly endless potential. Doing what we all can do, what we all should do. Women are the greatest resource of untapped potential in the world. Instead she is met with ridicule and trolls doing what they do best, tearing others down so they don’t feel as diminished as they have made themselves.

I was at a Christmas Eve dinner tonight with one of my best friends. A woman who has been so much to me over the years: a mentor, a boss, a confidant, an older sister, an example, a kindred spirit. And I met yet another of her amazing posse of badass Baltimore women. I left that dinner buoyed by the love of my best friend and her family and friends; men and women who, while they do not agree on all things, respect and acknowledge each others’ worth. The way most Baltimore women behave towards each other is amazing. It is noteworthy. It is a page out of Taylor Swift’s book.

You can’t film a “Housewives of Baltimore” because not one of the women in Baltimore would sell out their friends. For one, we all have too much dirt on each other, but more importantly, we are a breed of woman who believes in climbing together rather than climbing over each other. We know that we reach higher heights when we build each other up instead of wasting time and energy tearing each other down. If you don’t know this about Baltimore women, you’re not one of us. But you can be.

The greatest women in Baltimore are people like Gina Geppi, Sloane Brown, and Jeanine Turner. Women who are never intimidated by other powerful women, but who are encouraged by the power they see in others. They don’t keep the next generation of powerful women out of their circles for fear they will be replaced, they mentor their replacements proudly, ensuring their mark on their city through the next generation of women.

If none of this sounds familiar to you, if you scoff at Taylor Swift and her growing universe of Amazons, if you’re thinking of snarky things to say about this sentence; you’re as hopeless as the woman who, a full year after she broke up my relationship is still so unhappy with herself that she continues to troll me (which just increases my views, of course) and wastes her time and exhausts herself coming up with mean shit to say. Why do that to yourself? Why waste yourself creating misery when you could be so much more, to yourself, to those around you, to the world?

Don’t be your own worst enemy. Be badass Taylor Swift.