Never Forget…What You’ve Done.

In Uncategorized on September 12, 2014 at 2:55 am

Every year 9/11 comes around I feel funny about it. Kinda been that way for a while. It’s not that I have no sympathy for the lives lost that day or subsequently after from war. It’s not because I don’t care about America. This is my home but, to be honest as I’ve grown older and began to understand my place in society as a black man I have come to realize that I don’t love America like other people do. More specifically like White people do.

I don’t feel American. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to feel like. As the public lynching of Ray Rice permeates the media a Black man is once again public enemy number one. Michael Brown’s body has been cold for a month as Ferguson is no longer a hot topic on Twitter or the blogsophere, and George Zimmerman walks the streets of America today freely.

When those attacks happened on that fateful day who ever responsible didn’t do this to hurt people who look like me. They did it as a giant fuck you to the white man who has pillaged and plundered his way through humanity for hundreds if not thousands of years. They did it as a repayment for the innocent people we’ve killed abroad and as a response to our horrible decisions based on foriegn policy

I can’t sit by and act like America is this beautiful land filled with opportunity. It’s filled with opportunity for people who chose to come here. My people didn’t have a choice and repeatedly America shows the black race that we DON’T have a choice. That we don’t matter. That we don’t exist.

I hope this Ray Rice debacle is really getting through to people. It’s cemented somethings for me. I’ve come to a really harsh truth about Americas attitude toward  Black people.

If we don’t make you laugh, cheer, or cum America doesn’t give a fuck about you. The minute you do something they don’t approve of they will remind you how three-fifths of a person you are.

So on 9/11 as we remember the horrible attacks that happened I ask for America to also remember:

Emmitt Till

Rodney King

Jim Crow


The slaughter of the Native American people

The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

Japanese internment camps

Public Lynchings

The Klu Klux Klan

Hurricane Katrina

…and a host of other really fucked up things that you’ve told us to get over.

A Place For The Freaks and Geeks: Celebrating 10 years of Afropunk

In Uncategorized on September 3, 2014 at 12:52 am

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Have you ever had that feeling that you just didn’t fit in where you were from? Or that maybe the way you thought was more broad than what was immediately surrounding you? Strangely enough I’ve felt like this for a large portion of my life.



As a child coming from a West Indian household I came to Pittsburgh with a strong sense of language and an accent which the black kids would later tell me sounded white. When I went to be with my Guyanese family in the summer they told me how American I was becoming; wearing two earrings, baggy clothes, slang, etc. You know sometimes the 3rd world and the ghetto clash.

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I’ve always had an affinity for Rock music but particularly the rock/rap hybrid of the late 90’s:Korn, Limp Bizkit, Kid Rock, Rage Against The Machine. You know shit like that. I bonded with some cool yet very weird white kids who were probably a couple phone calls away from being the next recruits for the Trenchcoat Mafia. Thats kind of a joke.

What I really mean is that I’ve never had a spot in black culture that actually tried to connect with all those facets of my existence. Its like I could only be one thing at one time in only one particular place. Im sure many black millennials can attest to what Im saying. In an era where taste can easily become the biggest part of ones personality being an individual is now cool. Being a wierdo is cool. Being up on the shit that ain’t nobody else up on is what separates the lames from the movers and shakers.

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 Nowhere is that more evident than Afropunk, the music festival held in Brooklyn,NY for the past 10 years. In my second year of going I can just say that it feels like all is right with the world when I’m in that park. All of the beautiful Black people, cultures intermingling, the smells of food trucks and marijuana dusting the air, so many different sounds of music all coming from the heartbeat of the diaspora. Its all pretty fucking magical to be honest.

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Afropunk started out as a documentary that turned into a festival that to me has turned into a lifestyle. I could tell you how I liked the artists, or the vendors, or the people, or the food but no words would truly be able to express what I saw and experienced these past two years. I will however give you a list of people, places, and things that I have seen that are quintessentially Afropunk and wouldn’t exist if not for the growing acceptance of the culture.

1. Rap artists wearing nail polish, facial piercings, and facial tattoos

2. Dreads of all styles but particularly the “Mad Max”

3. The Yeezus Album


4.Celebration/Recognition of Esoteric Knowledge 

5. Designer jeans with holes in ‘em

6. Death Grips

7. Black girls with septum piercings

8. Lil B Da Based God

9. Ian Connor

10. Antwuan Dixon

11. Shirts with sideboob exposed

12. Fusion Caribbean food

13. Ironic Streetwear

14. Retro Shit

15. Natural Hair

16. Erykah Badu as Mother Earth who can do no wrong

17. Playing the guitar

18. Doing shrooms, acid, salvia, and/or any other drug that your local black drug dealer hasn’t even tried


19. Beads, dashikis, gold jewelry, tribal colors, Afrocentric colors

20. Pharrell’s Happy Song.

Could There Be…

In Uncategorized on April 22, 2014 at 12:52 am


When you called me I came.
Crawling. Walking. Running.

When I called you, you came.
Taking your time, showing reluctancy
to commit to something greater than yourself.

But, you loved me when I didn’t
and maybe that’s why I care so much.

And perhaps the selfishness of wanting you exclusively felt stifling but, after seeing your resume of recent lovers
I know you deserve better.

You know you do too…don’t you?

I wish you saw what what I see.
So that the walls you’ve built to protect yourself can become a room in our house you don’t visit anymore.

Are you scared of having something sacred?

Don’t answer that.

Just be receptive to what I want to give you…
-Signed a man who loves you regardless.


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