Heart Attacks

I remember Freaknik era Atlanta, GA. The funk was in the air. You could taste it, although I'm sure the best stories were told in coded language or while I was in Mandisa's room, exploiting the Bo Jackson reverse on Super Techmo Bowl. I just remember it was different. It made me feel different. I felt at one with an environment that was of me and bigger than me simultaneously. It was spiritual, but not religious.

I didn't know half of these people, but was family. It was culture. Blackness: celebrated like I had never seen before. My in-laws owned the barbershop. Everyone had a nice house. There was a tangible support system. It was...

It was just different. Desirably so...

Breaking from the whatever streak I felt I was having with these blogs, I'm going to be honest with myself in this moment: I have no idea where I was going with this. I mean, I understand that I'm obviously reminiscent for a time where amazing things were happening around me, and my youthful mind was scrambling to grasp it all. That's understandable. But how does that reflect on the here and now?

I guess reading Malcolm X's biography scared me. When he addressed the difference between Nothern and Southern Negroes, I felt a sense of pride and comfortabilify with handling the devil that I knew. I also felt a sense of responsibility to speak for and to those who shared my developmental experiences. Now, I can't help but feel a sense of naïveté, like I loved and trusted an environment that never loved me to begin with. After all, Kermit left The Swamp because there is better out there for a frog that can speak like a human.

At the same time, you can't hate the process that made you great. I've said in a previous blog that certain lessons are preparing me for the next level. How can I be of The Swamp if I've never felt the muddy basin between my toes? I have come face to face with alligators in the darkest nights. I can now speak to that fear with power and resolve.

All in all, I further resolve not to fall into nostalgia. I've come to love this Heartland as Johnnie Mae did. I loved Stalley's album in contrast to some of the biggest named releases of 2014, simply because it was the sound of our science, and our sound has historically echoed throughout the world. I'm proud of that. I hate having the color red in my wardrobe, but when it comes to these Buckeyes...

#RIP John Crawford & Tamir Rice.