Forget It

Oftentimes, we forget. We forget who we are, who we once were, the progress we have made, the effort and struggle it took to get where we are, the opportunities afforded us, the people who helped us, etc. Being back on the bike after a year of not riding has reminded me of this and of the fact that we also tend to go easy once we have reached a certain point or when things get a little tougher. Just tonight, I was 2mph faster and took a full minute off my previous fastest time. Yes, I was sore. Yes, my legs burned. Yes, I was tired. But I simply told myself to push through it.
We never accomplish anything when we take it easy. We never break barriers when we coast through life. We never accomplish anything when we settle for what we know we can do. Part of success is finding your limits and going beyond them. We are only capable of what we tell ourselves we can do. Many times, most times, we handicap and defeat ourselves from the start by what we tell ourselves. "I cant do it. It's too hard. It's too long. It's too much. It's too hot, too cold. I'm too weak." We tell ourselves it is always "too" something, but we never say "It's too easy."
In the Army, where I learned most of my life lessons, we have two phrases: "No excuse" and "Too easy." An excuse is an explanation you use to justify failure, lackluster performance, not giving 100, etc. So when the Sgt. asks you why, "No excuse Sgt." They teach us to go beyond what we ever thought we could. In the Army, that point beyond your limits where you never thought you could go, THAT is your baseline, your MINIMUM. So, in the face of an obstacle or insurmountable odds, when you think you can't take anymore or go any further, your only reply is "Too easy Sgt." We have hundreds of excuses why not, when all we need is one reason why. Instead of hundreds of excuses, the only things we should be thinking is No Excuse and Too Easy. If you deny yourself the excuses and tell yourself you can, you will, and that it's too easy, IT WILL BE.
We forget this. In forgetting this, we forget the work and determination it took to get there. We begin to take it easy. We slow down. We push less. We feel entitled to more progress simply because at a previous point, we pushed hard. Your life is a mountain, and over the years, you are climbing that mountain. Some never climb it. Some climb to a certain point and stop. Some go all the way to the top. The thing is, the mountain itself never gets easier to climb. YOU just get stronger. But, you only get stronger if you continue to climb and push yourself.
No one goes through life without someone at some point doing something, a helping hand, a guide, a shoulder, an open door, a recommendation, something. We tend to forget those people. We succeed, we progress, we improve, and we look back and say, "Look what I did." But at some point, if someone hadn't done something, we wouldn't have done that. For my part, I had forgotten, for the past few months, God's part in my life. I began to have success, I began to improve, God began to show me clips of what could be if I stayed humble and focused. For my part, I began to look back and say, "Look at all I have done." For a short time, I focused on what I thought I had done instead of what God has allowed me to do. Many doors would have remained closed had God not opened them. Many opportunities would have never presented themselves had He not allowed them to. We forget God in our lives until we need Him for something. We forget the people in our lives until we need them for something. We are all guilty of it.
The entire point is that we forget all the things that have gotten us and get us where we are. We remind ourselves of tv show times and game scores and song lyrics and celebrity relationships and so on, but we forget the very things that propel us forward in life, only to stand by and wonder why we aren't moving. Forget the scores and the show times and whatever else, and let's focus on the only two things that actually matter, there is NO EXCUSE, and it's TOO EASY.

A Different World

I love going back and re-watching shows that defined periods of my coming up. There are shows that defined my teenage years, shows that defined my early adult years, shows that defined my time spent overseas. And there are three shows that defined my childhood and pre-teen years: A Different World, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and The Cosby Show. My parent’s generation and many of my generation remember well these shows. Sadly, most of the younger generation do not even know of their existence or of the impact any of these shows had on black youth and the black community.

I have had both the honor and privilege to meet both Kadeem Hardison and Jasmine Guy from A Different World. I met Kadeem Hardison when I was a pre-teen at Allen Iverson’s Celebrity All Star Classic baseball game at the Virginia War Memorial Stadium. While I did not spend the day with him or converse with him like I did Jasmine Guy years later, I remember walking down the bleachers and sliding the program through the fence next to the dugout, asking for his autograph and telling him I used to always want flip up glasses like his character Dwayne Wayne had, and telling him that I used to think he was the coolest brother on the show. My contact with him lasted a minute tops, but I remember him looking at me and asking, “You’re going to college, right?” I told him yes and that my parents would kill me if I didn’t and he replied, “Good. That’s good to hear lil man.” As a kid, hearing Dwayne Wayne tell me, “That’s good to hear” and calling me “lil man” was so ridiculously cool.

I met Jasmine Guy just a few months ago while I was finishing my first associate’s degree. My school had put on an exhibition for Black History Month about black men and women in sports and entertainment, and she, along with Nikki Giovanni, was one of our main guests. I was Student Vice President, and part of my student governmental duties included assisting college guests from time to time. I had the distinct pleasure of being Ms. Guy’s aide and escort for the event. You never know how famous people are in real life, and sometimes you, as a fan, are disappointed when you learn they are not what you thought. However, Ms. Guy turned out to be one of the nicest and most down to earth people I have ever met, famous or not. When she learned I had a baby boy, she demanded to see pictures and I swear I probably went through all 400 of them on my phone, with her gushing about him at each picture change. I told her how, as kids, my older sister and I couldn’t wait for the next episode of A Different World to come on, how we never missed a show, and how much it meant for her to play a role in one of the most influential shows during one of the most influential times of a young black kid’s life. Many actors just play a role and get paid. But I was impressed by her candor and her dedication to and belief in her role and in the show, because it was much more than a role and much more than just a show.

At that time, A Different World was revolutionary. Never before, and sadly, never since, has there been a successful major network show about successful black youth in college. This show in particular, took black youth from different backgrounds, different skin tones, different parts of the country, and put them all on a campus of a Historically Black College. It covered topics we in the black community still struggle with today: early/unplanned/unwed pregnancy, rape and sexual assault, abusive relationships, drugs, drinking, gang violence, our health, differences between rich and poor, HIV and AIDS, politics, slavery and racism, etc. If you can think of it, I can probably guarantee there was an episode about it. The shows were only 20 minutes long, but those episodes packed life lessons into them. Here, we had a group of young black men and women who were searching for their identity and a place in this world. Through triumph and failure, tragedy and blessings, heartbreak and fondness, they rose above whatever obstacles life could throw at them. They became successful black men and women, despite their obstacles and despite their backgrounds. Dwayne Wayne was an engineer, and Lena, played by Will Smith’s future wife, Jada Pinkett, was studying at Hillman with Dwayne to become one. Whitley Gilbert-Wayne became a teacher. Kimberly Reese became a doctor and married one of her fellow med school students. Jalissa Vincent became a marketing executive and operated her own temp agency. Unlike most of Tyler Perry’s work, which portrays even successful black men as cheap, cheating, abusive, insecure men, A Different World took both the perspectives of the Black Man and the Black Woman and showed them as equally strong, loving, and capable black men and women who complemented each other.

The same goes for The Cosby Show and The Fresh Prince. Heathcliff Huxtable was a doctor and his wife Claire was a lawyer, with 5 kids between them, living in a brownstone in Manhattan. Uncle Phil was a circuit court judge with a wife and three kids, living in Bel Air. In all three shows, none of the characters were athletes or rappers or famous singers. There was a strong emphasis on education. In both The Cosby Show and Fresh Prince, ALL of the kids ended up going to college. Denise Huxtable, from both The Cosby Show and the first season of A Different World, is the only character to have dropped out of college. Along with ADW, both of these shows also had episodes that dealt with issues we continue to deal with today.

Young black boys grew up watching these shows, wanting to be a Dwayne Wayne, an Uncle Phil, a Dr. Huxtable, a Walter Oakes, or a Col. Taylor. I did. Young black girls grew up watching them, wanting to be a Claire Huxtable, a Vivian Banks, a Kim Reese, a Whitley Gilbert, or a Sandra Huxtable. We watched these shows and thought to ourselves, “I can do that one day.” Not all, but many of us have dealt with racism. . I was 7 years old in 1993 when A Different World ended. At the time, it was interesting-to say the least-to be a young black kid in the early 90’s. If you remember that time, you know what I mean, if you don’t, it would take a book to explain I remember my grandma and grandpa telling me growing up, “As a black man, the world expects you to end up either dead, in jail, or both. Prove them wrong.” The sad thing is that this still rings true. As black youth, we were expected to dress, walk, talk, and act like we were “ghetto.” We were, and still are, expected to get in trouble with the law, kicked out of school, have babies, etc. The world at large did not, and does not, look at us and expect us to be successful. We are expected to be a statistic before we reach the age of 21. These shows took those expectations and threw them out the window. These shows gave us examples of what we could be, the opportunities and success we could have. When the world told us, “You’re not and you can’t,” these shows told us we could stand, face the world, and declare, “NO! I AM and I WILL!”

The Cosby Show ended in 1992, A Different World ended in 1993, and The Fresh Prince in 1996. All three, because of their casting, backgrounds, plots, and settings were revolutionary. All three gave young black kids like me examples past basketball/football star or entertainer. All three told kids like me, “You CAN go to college. You CAN have the same opportunities. You CAN be successful. You CAN.” Sadly, since the Fresh Prince series finale, there have been no shows like that. There are shows for nearly every demographic you can think of, but since these three, none for a young black kid. Our young black boys don’t have any Dwayne Waynes to look to, no Uncle Phils, and no Dr. Huxtables. But we do make sure to give them Lil Waynes and Jay-Zs and Kanyes. We make sure to teach them, instead of going to college, educating yourself, conducting yourself with poise and class, go ahead and act a fool. We teach them to disrespect women. We teach them to disrespect and disregard anyone who isn’t giving them money or a handout. We teach them that working hard for 4 years to get a degree is pointless when you can throw on some baggy…or skinny…jeans and a hat 3 sizes too big, rhyme some words, and if you can’t do that, then you can just make words up. We teach them that all you have to do is make a shocking video and put it on YouTube and you’ll be famous. Our girls don’t have any Claire Huxtables. But they do have Beyonce’s and Rihannas. We make sure to teach them that their minds don’t matter, that success isn’t getting an education and positioning yourself in the upper echelons of top scientific/medical/business fields. We teach them all they have to do is dress skanky and twerk. We don’t teach our Claires and our Whitleys and our Vivians to seek educated, strong, and loving black men like Dwayne and Uncle Phil and Dr. Huxtable. But we make sure to point out the Jeezys and the Weezys and the Chris Browns.

It saddens me to no end, partly because since then, we have done nothing of the sort to keep telling our youth that they ARE and they CAN. It saddens me because the Whitleys and the Vivians and the Claires of these shows were not just successful business women, they were mothers and housewives. Now, our girls aspire to be like La’Bonquiqui’tisha from “Real Housewives of…” For years before, we cried for something other than the cheap, toxic, and foolish colorings of the blacksploitation” films. When these shows came out, it was like a breath of fresh air and the black community sighed a sigh of relief. We thanked God…and Bill Cosby…for these shows. Then, they ended. They ended and, it seems, so did our self-respect and sense of dignity.

There is one thing I know for sure, when my son grows to a certain point, despite his beautiful almond shaped eyes, despite his mixed heritage, the world will stop seeing him as a cute little mixed baby and they will see him as a black man. I know what the world and those in it will tell him and expect of him. Hopefully I’ll be the right example for him and hopefully he’ll have others. But, if I’m all he’s got, more than anything else, I will teach him, like my father, grandfather, Dwayne Wayne, Uncle Phil, and Dr. Huxtable taught me: Forget what everyone else expects. Expect more from yourself and always strive to do and be more. After all, when you get out there, it certainly is a different world.

An Angry Black Man

I tend to shy away from racial articles, for they are admittedly not my forte and they are so fully embroiled in controversy. I am of the belief that race should not, and ultimately does not, matter. The only reason it matters is because we make it so. I am, by definition, what you would call a redneck. I am overly fond of Texas, my truck, jeans, cowboy boots, NASCAR, guns, country music, and Budweiser. But, if you have never seen me, you would not know that I am a black man. I do not like what I like in effort to “be white.” I like it because I like it. However, you will tell me I am the “whitest black guy” you know. And I laugh and carry the joke. But not because I think you are funny. I laugh because I know your ignorance knows no bounds. Certainly, I will be the first to rail against the stereotypical black man, the stereotypical group of black people. But not because I want or need your approval. Not because I am “trying to be white.”

 I decry the stereotype because as soon as I walk out my front door, that is what you expect me to be. I decry the stereotype because too many of our young black men and women have fallen prey to the stereotype and believe that that is what they are supposed to be, so much so that, in many respects, it is not even a stereotype anymore. It saddens me to watch this happen to our black youth, to watch them grow up, to hear them called “angry black men.”

In truth, these are not angry black men. They are lost, misguided, and self-destructive black men. Our original angry black men marched in the south. They were lynched, chased by police dogs, dispersed with fire hoses, imprisoned, assassinated, mutilated. They fought and died to prevent what is now happening to our black youth.

America’s first angry black men witnessed and were victims of the racial injustices of the American social system. They realized that these injustices had to stop. Their hearts were torn at the sight of the reality of the times. Not for fame or glory, these angry black men refused to bow their heads and avert their eyes from the crimes perpetrated by the system that told them they were less than human and no better than cattle, only good for manual labor and service. Their eyes blazed with the fires of equality and justice and their hearts were burdened with glorious purpose.

Some advocated non-violence and civil disobedience while others took a more direct approach-an eye for an eye-by any means necessary. Nat Turner, Malcom X, Huey Newton, Bobby Seale, Dr. Martin Luther King. These are just a few of the names of these angry black men. These are also the names of men that we, as children, learned about, talked about. These are the men that we flocked to hear, that we followed down roads and across bridges in Alabama, that we were imprisoned with, that we emulated.

For decades, an angry black man refused to accept the status quo that told him his place was in the ghetto, or the cotton field, or the sharecropper’s shack, or in prison. For decades, an angry black man fought to get an education. When he succeeded, we applauded him, we praised him, we aspired to follow in his footsteps. This angry black man would put on a suit, get his education, and enter the world to which he was previously forbidden. He would make this world his own. Then he would take a younger angry black man and guide him and teach him so that he would one day surpass him.

I was fortunate enough to have a mother that, from the time I could recognize words, simultaneously taught me Scripture and Black History. As an adopted mixed child, I did not have the benefit of tracing my ancestry back through many generations. My mother did the only thing she could, as all great mothers do: she made sure that, while I did not know who conceived and birthed me, I knew full well the caliber of the people from whom I descended. From the kings and queens of Africa, to Hatian princes, to Moorish scholars and warriors, my mother made sure I knew the history of my people. It had partly to do with pride. I was taught to be proud to be a black man when the world told me I should be ashamed. But, it had more to do with knowing that I stood on the shoulders of giants, that these men and women paved the way for me to be great and to do great things that will pave the way for those that come after me, like my son. It was so that I would know that even though the world, and my own country, tell me I am of little value, those who came before me built and shaped the world and that I am capable of the same.

Sadly, as I see and hear our black youth today, these lessons have been lost. The stories are not told anymore. A majority of the youngest generation only knows Dr. King as a holiday, a day they don’t have to go to school. Most of them do not know who Brothers Malcom X and Huey Newton were or what they did. They do not know the names of Marcus Garvey, Daniel Hale, Toussaint L’Ouverture, Dredd Scott, Booker T. Washington, George Washington Carver, Generals Benjamin O. Davis Sr. and Jr., or Lt. Henry O. Flipper. These men, and more like them, are what we used to idolize and look up to. These were our role models, men who lived their lives and served their people and their country with distinction and honor. Ask our youth who these men were and what they did and you will be met with silence and blank stares while they try to google them. Yet, they know Michael Jordan, Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, Jay-Z, Weezy, etc. They know all the stats and lyrics to men who have made fortunes either putting points on a board or rapping about hoes and money and drugs. These are our new role models.

It is a great thing that the major sports leagues desegregated, it truly is. But I feel it has done more a disservice to us as a people. Once, college, an education, an opportunity to service your community and to change the world were our ambitions. But for quite a while now, our ambitions have been to be an athlete or an entertainer. Of all the doors that have opened to black men and women, these are the top two, many times the only two, choices of most of our youth. Again, I was fortunate to have a mother and father who taught me that knowledge and character are power. While I was athletic, I never had an ambition to professional sports. And while I have always been gifted with words, I am by no means a rapper or singer. First through the military and second through education, I have been able to see just how vast the opportunities can be.

Up until recent decades, black men and women have always been proud people through all situations. They have been proud and righteously angered. They have fought to prove their greatness. They have fought to leave a better world for their children and their children’s children. Somehow, we began to defeat the very purposes of those battles and those sacrifices. We began to lose sight of our history. We cannot say the white man took it from us. We cannot say it is because the white man enslaved us. It has been controversially said that no one can enslave you unless you let them, and I firmly believe that to be true. We were once kings and queens who built, conquered, and ruled nations, until we sold ourselves into slavery for trinkets and empty promises. We brought ourselves out of slavery and we still demand compensation and special treatment. We demand what we have not yet earned. In older times, at the age of manhood, a young boy was sent into the wilderness alone, to fend for himself until he came back as a man, wearing the skin of a predator and having communed with the ancestors. Our youth today grow a few pubic hairs, impregnate a young girl, get a gun, smoke a joint, and demand to be recognized as men without ever truly learning what it is to be a man. And the fault belongs to no one but us. The fault lies with our parents for not being parents and with our children for the choices they make. We can only blame it on the economy, on the financial and education systems, and everything else for a short time until we must accept that it starts with the choices we make in our homes, in our schools, in our streets, and in our lives. We must realize that being proud to be hood, or ghetto, or rachet, is NOT what it means to be a proud black man or woman.

We were once a beautiful, strong, proud people, and we can be again. But we have to take responsibility for our own destiny and we have to choose to be strong and proud black men and women.

To the Men

Seriously, I am sick and tired of hearing you women talk about these fathers as if they are the lowest scum on earth. **I use the term "you women" in a loose and general manner.** But real talk, let a man talk any type of junk about a mother, about her personality, her character, her decision making process-or lack thereof-and all hell breaks loose. "How dare you!" "Oh no he didn't" "He ain't nothin but a deadbeat anyway." All I ever hear is what the man has or hasn't done in regards to the relationship and to the child/ren. Well, what the hell have you or haven't you done women??? It's like elementary school man. Yall gonna run and tell the world what he's done or hasn't done, but you don't say a damn thing about yourselves! Nah, hell nah yall ain't tellin on yourselves. But then scream for fairness. Ok, so he's made some mistakes. What mistakes did you make? On a few, VERY few personal cases, I've known some of these women for years and I can personally vouch that the dude is an assclown. But that ain't what I'm talkin about. I'm talkin about the dudes scratching and pinching, trying to make a better life, but it ain't what, where, when, or how the mother wants it, so it's not good enough and he's not doing anything. I'm talkin about the women who keep these kids away from their fathers and then complain about the fathers not being around. I'm talking about these women who use these kids as bargaining chips. I'm talking about these men who are doing the best they can but have to see their children in the arms of another man. I'm talking about these men who are being punished by these mothers and by the courts simply because the relationship didn't work out. I'm talking about these men, strong men, godly men, hardworking and loving men who don't let the world see the tears they shed because they can't be there for their children. I'm talking about a system that will automatically give a child to his/her mother without knowing what kind of mother she is/will be, but at the same time automatically denying the father. I'm talking about these women and this system that radically systematically emphatically breaks and beats these men down. And we wonder, "Where have all the good men gone?" Nobody is perfect. The father ain't perfect, but neither is the mother. I think it ironic that in a world where everyone screams "sexism!" and "inequality!", when it comes to the flesh of our flesh and blood of our blood, it is inherently irrevocably unequivocally blatantly biased against anything with a penis. Despite the character, despite the work, despite all the accomplishments and achievements, you are a man, and because things did not work out, you are to blame, you are at fault, and you are unfit. I cry for these men. I know these men. I hear their voices crack when they talk about their kids. I see their eyes water when they think how much they miss them. I watch them choke back a sob, breathe deep, and play it cool. Because despite the supposed gender inequalities of our society, we are not supposed to cry. I watch these men work hard, day after day, hoping one day to be in their children's lives. And I hear these ignorant and trifling women speak ill about these men, and all men. First, no, woman, you can't take an immature boy who's never had a father figure in his life and expect him to know what a good father is. Second, woman, you wouldn't have to deal with these assclown dudes if you stopped picking them out of the gutter. Third, woman, contrary to what Oprah and Michelle Obama and the rest of the sunshine and rainbows brigade keep telling you, you are NOT the center of the universe. Your wants and desires are NOT the paramount consideration. Everything is NOT about you. It is about that child. It is about what that child needs, what is best for him/her. If you and the father don't work, then you don't work. But instead of tearing these men down, beating them, breaking them, then complaining about them, work WITH them. Because either way, your child will see what you do. YOU set the example for your child/ren. Stop demanding these men be fathers while at the same time destroying their ability to do so. Let these men BE fathers to their sons and daughters. But, all this falls on deaf ears. This story's not going to change. It never does. Because the only ones who want it to change are the ones it's set against. I hurt for these men. I know what it's like to have a gaping hole where your heart used to be because your child is miles and miles away. I know what it's like to steal pictures from Facebook just so you can watch your child grow up. I know what it's like to feel like a part of your soul is missing. I know what it's like to wake up because you heard a baby crying, only to realize it was you. I know what it's like to be closer to your friends' kids than your own. I'm not saying this is about me, just that I know how these men feel. It's hard to be a man in a society that condemns you for being born with a penis, that punishes you alone for the decisions of two, that praises you if you decide to be a woman, but then turns around and degrades you if you want to cry. It's hard to be a father when your ability to do just that is taken away from you simply because you were not the one to give birth. I don't have the answers. In truth, no one does. But stay strong, my men. Keep your heads up. Keep the faith. Because above all else, that is the one thing these children will see. Men, be strong, kind, wise men. And women, let these damn men be men! Maybe then we can start to repair all the damage we have done so that our children will not be left with our mess.

We...

Just because society glorifies doing things in a wholly irresponsible, instantly gratifying, and inherently unstable and inadequate manner does not mean that a legitimate and responsible manner of action no longer exists. It does. It's just easier to "go with the flow" rather than hold ourselves to any sort of moral, spiritual, or ethical code. It's easier to tell yourself, "There are no rules" because then you can absolve yourself of any guilt. It's easier to excuse yourself by saying "Everyone does it" or "No one does that anymore." Instead of measuring ourselves by the standards of our morality, spirituality, and/or ethics, we measure ourselves by the society's overwhelming lack of those standards. As a result, our standards are hacked away until there is nothing left, until there is no distinction between right and wrong, until "It is what it is," at which time, we feel slighted, we feel betrayed, we feel lost, we feel hurt, we feel wronged. But, because we failed to take a personal stand for whatever we may believe, and because we allowed all baseline standards to be devolved so that we could fit in with whatever "everyone else is doing," we find ourselves without a reference point to define our offense. We have allowed ourselves, and our children, to become morally and ethically fat and lazy by suckling from the breasts of "Whatever I Want" and "Whatever Is Quick And Easy." We have trashed and done away with the notion of "What am I going to do to make this world better?" and replaced it with "What is the world going to give me?" We fill our bellies with junk, don't exercise, and blame the restaurant for making us fat. We have illicit and meaningless sex with multiple men and women, "because we can," and blame the world for our low self-esteem and broken hearts. We indulge ourselves to excess with everything we can, and then when we have nothing to show for our lives, we blame God or Life or Fate for not giving us enough opportunities. We enter into relationships, impassioned and over emotional, without taking the requisite time to actually get to know the person, only to find out the hard way that we were wrong, and then we blame them. We jump into relationships because we crave the security, affection, comfort, and attention, and we settle for those external balms without taking time to get to know who the other person really is. We get our hearts broken and we tell ourselves, "They just changed," or "That came out of nowhere." We absolve ourselves of any responsibility for any of our actions. We spend so much time and effort making excuses for ourselves and lying to ourselves and making ourselves the victim that we eventually miss out on the blessings that God or Life or Fate had prepared for us. We are always chasing something, a bigger paycheck, a nicer car, a prettier girl, a more handsome man, more fame, more-more-more. We take and take and take, but when life or our environment requires something of us, we deny it and sit idly by, waiting for someone else to do it, to give it, to be it. We want the change, but we refuse to do the work required to get it. We want the opportunities, but we refuse to go out in search of them. We pass our lives in front of computer screens, living in virtual worlds, playing fantasy games, because in a digital universe, we can take without having to wait, or work, or give. We waste the time we have in the real world living in fake ones. Video games didn't make kids violent, we did, because we glorified violence. Fast food didn't make us fat, we did, because we bought it. The media doesn't poison our minds, we do, because we listen to it. The opposite (or same) sex didn't make us jaded and untrusting, we did, because we jumped from person to person and relationship to relationship out of lust and selfishness instead of a true desire to share our lives with someone. Racism and slavery didn't put my black brothers and sisters in the situations we find ourselves today, we did, because we refused to let go of the feelings of entitlement and recompense for things that happened hundreds of years before we were born. Gays didn't destroy marriage, we did, because we took our oaths for granted, we turned marriage into a movie rental store where we can try it out, return it, and pick another one. We found it easier and quicker to simply divorce than to own up to our mistakes, improve ourselves, and work things out like adults. Our parents didn't fail us, we did, because instead of learning from their mistakes, we just made the same ones. We blame the "downfall of society" on this and that, when in reality, we ARE society, we ARE our own downfall. WE failed ourselves, we failed our ancestors, we failed our children. A blacksmith bends iron to his will with fire, muscle, and tools. If he needs a tool, he forges it. We have stopped forging our tools. We have stopped stoking the fire. We have stopped bending the iron to our will. We sit, before a cold furnace, with no tools, blaming the universe for not bending the iron for us. But, the day is not yet done. Our days are not meant to make the wold better for us, rather, they are to make the world better for our children. We give our children the foundation upon which they will build their world, their lives. We teach our children how to use the furnace, give them our tools, so they may use them to make better tools and stronger metal. Our children will either stoke the fires we put out and use the tools they have forged, or they will continue to wonder why the iron is not bent.

Wake Up!!!
Nevermore-Actual