Category Archives: race

Tales From The Hood

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Don't let the nice facade fool you. It's ninjas behind those houses.

Don’t let the nice facade fool you. It’s ninjas behind those houses.

Growing up in the hood, yeah boy 1984, was the year my peers didn’t know what was in store. Probably because we were all 5 and didn’t care, but that’s neither here nor there. The fact is, when young, you don’t realize how good or bad your surroundings are. They just exist as your playground.

And oh how we played.

*tear*

I’ve had the benefit of living in many different types of areas in my life. I’ve lived in the suburbs, overseas in a major world city, the inner city, some projects and in rural ass areas where I’ve never felt more uncomfortable once I found out that I was actually black. It’s amazing what a little bit of knowledge can do to your psyche. I’ve also done some time in the country; as in the town gets a street light and its news country. Well right now, I live in Washington, DC. This is news to no one. Almost a year ago now, I purchased my first home.

Glory day.

Seeing as the average home price in DC proper sells for around $400K (you read that right) and I didn’t have that in my wallet in my good clothes, I purchased a home for somewhat less (not a whole lot) and bought in a neighborhood full of people who resembled myself. Now, if you’ve been reading this site for a good length of time you know that Atlanta, GA, and more specifically the West side of the city on MLK is my former stomping grounds. I’m not stranger to living in the ‘hood. In fact, upon telling my family members I was buying a home, they all immediately assumed I’d be buying in the hood. I’m not sure if this says something about me or them. Let’s just say they’re racist. Yes. Do that.

Anyway, so I copped a house in Southeast DC (SE). From the outside looking in, SE is known as a hood destination for hoodboogers, hoodrats, and career criminals. And while there are plenty of all three there, it’s also a place full of working class people doing working class things with their friends. I do however, live in the poorest ward in the city. I do not, however, feel unsafe at all. I’m well versed in how to survive in South Central. <—- a place where busting a cap is fundamental.

All that was a long ass introduction to what I wanted to share with you all today. Since moving in almost a year ago, I’ve been privy to some very entertaining things. And since the closer I get to youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu, the more you make me feeeeeeeeeeel like we should all be best friends, I decided to share with you all some of my tales from the hood. Basically, in case I wasn’t sure I lived in the ‘hood, here are some proof positive indicators. We could call this guess the race, but, well, come on. We know this one ends. You gon’ learn today.

(And no, I will not say exactly where I live. I recently had a situation arise with somebody trying to pinpoint my location. He (yes, he) was apparently attempting to stalk me to my home. I stay strapped. No Trojan. But yes Trojan.)

PSA: Panama Jackson does not condone gun violence. Blocka blocka.

Hmm…let’s call this things I’ve learned about living in the hood that I didn’t remember from the last time I did it…

1. You can’t fully prepare for some things that you will see. At all.

Yesterday morning while coming home to get ready for work after dropping my daughter off at school I pulled into my driveway. I opened the door and stepped out. I basked in the sun. It was delightful. It kissed me. The sun. No…solaro? I picked a dandelion as it was sitting there waiting to be picked. Then I looked up and saw one of my neighbors push a motherf*cking shopping cart OUT of his house. The end.

This does beg the question though. You know how ninjas be out in the streets selling stuff out of carts? Well, when you go home you can’t really just leave it outside can you? Some other crackhead might steal it. Then you got to go steal ANOTHER one. It’s a vicious cycle. In the house it is. Bong bong.

2. It’s always time for a block party.

Since I’ve lived in my house, nearly EVERY warm weekend has consisted of a block party. I’m talking moonbounces and balloons. And quite a few of my neighbors own club quality PA (speaker) systems. How do I know this? Well they compete. Yes. Compete. They will all place their speakers outside and blast their own music. You all familiar with go-go? Well its 90 percent treble since its all club recordings for the most part. That shit pings through your home with piercing velocity. Add to the fact that folks are always outside and there’s always a party going down.

3. Crime is never too far away, but it isn’t always scary.

Only one violent crime has happened on my street since I moved there. I’m chalking that up to coincidence since a fight that happened up the street somehow ended up on mine and a teenager ended up stabbed. He’s alive. But one time at bandcamp, I was sitting in my house with my boy and we’re watching Say Yes To the Dress or some other manly show. A Ford Expedition speeds by. Except its leaning. Why is it leaning? It only has 3 tires. Yes. Not 3 and a flat. Nope. Only 3 tires. But its doing like 45 down my street. I’m a bit hood so I shrug it off as, “eh, I’ve seen worse” (it’s true, I’ve seen a dude drive down MLK in the A on two tires). Well, 10 minutes I go to leave my house and walk out my back door and in my back alley are 5 police cars and the dude in the Expedition is laid out on the ground in handcuffs. Apparently he was doing 45 because he was running from police. Which never goes well. Trust me.

4. Intra-race Color issues persist

In case you ain’t know, I’m lightskinnded. So is my child. Every time we go outside to play “play” or something, some of the little kids always come up to tell me how lightskinnded my child is. Or talk about how pretty she is and about her eyes (I make pretty babies…call me now!). I don’t mind them calling my daughter pretty, but the constant mentions of her being light throw me off. Once while getting ice cream from the ice cream truck that comes year round…literally, one of the teens who lives by me told me how pretty she was and that the light skint babies are so pretty. She also told me I needed a gun. I told her I was holding. She shot back, “respect”. Dead ass. Nows as good a time as any to mention that I live in a neighborhood that is mixed income and has some section 8 homes and some market rate homes. I hate to point out the obvious for fear of pointing it out for a specific reason, but let’s just say, you tend to notice that most of the folks in the hood are sunkissed like a motherf*cker.

Sadatay.

That’s enough. I’ve said too much. But we’ve only just begun. So tell me what lessons you’ve learned about where you live? Help us all learn about where you live. Could you tell me how to get…how to get to Sesame Street?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. TERRACE HOMES COURT aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

Does The N-word Trump All Other Slurs?

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olympicA few weeks back, one of the homeys sent me a video of an incident on a Metro train in DC. See, some wayward white man on the Green Line (notoriously known as the “Soul Train” in the area due to its propensity to run only through Prince George’s County, MD and DC), got into a kerfluffle with some riders. According to the comments, he had been rude and pushing his way onto the train; this is not an uncommon practice for anybody during rush hour in DC.

Well, apparently he pushed the wrong person and a shouting match ensued. At the point we get video we hear him refer to a woman (while being surrounded by Black people, mind you) as a “n*gger”. Multiple times. As opposed to the ass whipping you think he’d receive, folks were more like, “dog, why does it have to be all that…” I’m still baffled at the fact that he did not catch a beat down. He managed to be on the train with the most civil rights minded individuals in the DC-area, I assure you.

Anyway, when somebody asks him why he referred to her as the dreaded n-word, he shoots back with “she called me a f*ggot”. Now, on tape, we did not hear this. This doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. But we never heard it. Given the relative civility of everybody but this man I’m not completely inclined to believe him, but that’s neither her nor there. He did at some point towards the end of the video assault the person videotaping and according to the comments the police were waiting at the last station on the line for him.

That backstory is almost besides the point but I wanted to explain to you how I got to this question. Let’s imagine that somebody did call him the f-word. I’m no expert on slurs, but I’m pretty sure that’s one of the worst things you can call a gay person. It’s meant to be emasculating to the nth degree seeing as how many straight men refer to other men like that when dude is acting less than manly. Or they’re just being ignant. Either or.

But let’s say she called him a f*ggot. She likely didn’t know his sexual orientation but whatevs. That’s totes not important. She slurred him first. But what if he is gay. And hearing that offended him, so he offended her back with the n-word. Is he wrong? All those people got in their feelings (granted they’re all Black so we have some selection and location bias at work here) but what if he is gay and she shot off some gay slur so he shot back with a Black slur. Is all of a sudden he racist and therefore worse than any homophobic slur? Granted, the oppression olympics will be played forever, but can anybody really be mad if you aim one slur and they come back with another?

Confuscious says: he who strikes second, pays first.

He doesn’t really say that, I heard that in Sunday school. It’s always the n*gga who reacts who usually gets caught. But I also heard sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. This is patently not true because I’ve seen somebody get thrown through a glass window for saying something reckless at DC Live in the late 90s.

So maybe in a technical sense, you’re supposed to turn the other cheek and let words bounce off of you and pretend you’re not human. Then you go home and punch the air like Cuba Gooding, Jr in Boyz In Tha Hood. A lot. Hopefully you’ve got a virginal Nia Long there to take the edge off after. Seriously, has that ever worked? Man shows up as his girls house mad because of social injustice and he gets some for peace? P*ssy for Peace. Ignorant? Yes. But a cause everybody can support? I think so.

The more you know. *ding*

But assuming that the guy was gay and that the woman did say that in this scenario, is he wrong for referring to her with the n-word? Does that automatically make him more wrong than the person who uses the first slur? From his standpoint, sometimes you do have to take a stand and you just lose it at times. Everybody is capable of snapping. You’ve got the power. The reaction on the train would have largely coalesced on no matter what she said to him, you should never call a Black person an n-word as a non-Black person. I think most folks would agree with that.

I’m just not sure I’m one of them. If I call somebody a wop, wetback, kike, or any of a number of ethnic or racial slurs and they respond in kind, I can’t really get my panties in a bunch can I??? Like I can’t be like, “just wait a damn minute, sir, THAT is uncalled for!”

Right?

What say you? Does the n-word trump all or am I just preaching to the choir and need to run this poll on CNN?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. N*GGA AT LONDON HEATHROW WITH ME AND MY PEOPLES aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

 

What Happens When (Some) People Think You’re Marrying A White Chick

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blakeroy4

Two weeks ago, a bit of “I spent all night watching tournament games, and now it’s 11:30pm and I still can’t think of anything to write” writer’s block led me to leave WordPress for a minute and go to ESPN.com to kill some time. While there, I came across a picture of Blake Griffin.

Seeing Griffin’s Alfred E. Neuman-esque hair reminded me that he’s biracial. This led me to wonder which side he identifies with more, and that thought led me to also wonder if there was any specific way to tell which side a biracial person feels more of a connection to. I answered my own question (“Their dating patterns are probably the biggest tell“), thought about whether Blake Griffin dates mostly White girls or Black girls, wondered how each side of his family feels about his dating choices, and finally…

“Hmm. I wonder how people I know would take it if I fell in love with and married a White woman?”

Voila!

This thought effectively ended my block, leading to “How I Fell For, Proposed To, And Will Marry A White Woman”—an early April Fools joke on the VSB readership.

Between here and The Root—where the piece was republished—the responses ran from “Congrats on your upcoming marriage to a White woman!” and “Damn, you got me” to “Does she have a sister?” and “So…why does this dude feel the need to tell us that he’s marrying a White woman. Just marry her ass, have the honeymoon in a bucket of mayo, and be on your Tom-ing way” 

Most (men and women) were amused, though. That wasn’t a surprise. I know the readership here is a bit, well, smarter and a bit less prone to take themselves too seriously than what you usually find on the internet.

Again, most were amused. But, not all.

This was a comment left Thursday evening.

Another sellout. And, yes, just one more “field negro” (after the website of the same name) with a white woman.

And his writing this little essay won’t change that.

Sisters, brothers, we need to raise our children to know and do better. Life is about choices, and this brother made a bad one. If there’s a white person for you, there’s DEFINITELY a black woman for you. Ditto for the sisters with regard to white men and black men.

Once one makes a conscious decision to be with a black person, then it doesn’t matter who else one meets — because one has made a choice. It’s about a certain kind of social and political consciousness that understands the importance of modeling black love, of building strong black families.

It’s brothers like this who will shake their heads at young black kids cursing, their sagging pants, their lack of facility with standard English. But where are they? They’re MIA in the black community, leaving another sister to raise a child on her own, to battle to maintain a certain standard of living on her own, to face the world on her own without a mate.

But it’s also brothers like these black women do not — or certainly should not — miss. If this is where their head is — blown — then we’re far better off without them.

We need to return to a traditional African understanding of community and responsibility. Without it, we will never prosper as a people. *smdh*

Her follow up comment 50 minutes later:

Okay. I’m an impatient reader and am only just now seeing that it was supposed to be an April Fool’s joke.

Uh … not funny. It’s like reading an account of a lynching and then seeing “April Fools!”

The survival of the black family is too serious a matter for such silliness. And the situation it spoofs is too real to make light of.

Let me add that I wasn’t offended. It didn’t make me angry. It simply disgusted me. And then I began to think of the title of the website.

My thought: “Clearly, the brotha isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.”

Well, one thing’s for certain: He’s not as funny as he wants to be.

You know, whenever I watch videos like the one where the father was beating his daughter after catching her making a twerking video, I wonder if people who believe in corporal punishment are on the wrong side of history. I know it’s a traditional part of child-rearing—and I also know that many of us have been spanked before and turned out alright—but I think this is one of those practices that people will look back at in 100 years and think “Damn. Can you believe they still thought it was ok to beat children in 2013? How did they think it was a good thing for fully-grown adults to beat the smallest and weakest person in the house, and how did the courts allow parents to do this?”

Anyway, I’m bringing this up because although I have always been solely interested in and committed to dating Black women, I wonder if people who believe in the type of uncompromising racial solidarity as the person who left that comment are also on the wrong side of history.

I could be wrong, though. Maybe she’s right. I mean, humans are instinctually tribal, and perhaps all this post-racialiciousness isn’t necessarily a great thing.

Like I said, I could be wrong. But, I doubt it.

What do you think?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

How To Be Really, Really Good At Being A Black Man

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Lemme learn y'all asses to something

Lemme learn y’all asses to something

We received a comment last week that basically said Black people in positions where they can help people often don’t do enough, and ended by urging Panama and I to do what we can to mentor aspiring bloggers.

Although I’m still not sure how I’d go about completing that task, I do want to lend a hand to help young people do what I do best: Be really, really good at being a Black man.

I don’t have all the answers for all the people out there who want to be really, really good at being a Black man, but I do have a few tips.

How To Walk

1. Whatever your normal walking speed is, decrease it by 40 percent. If it usually takes you 60 seconds to walk from your cubicle to the office bathroom, now do it in 84 seconds. Time yourself with a stopwatch if necessary.

2. While walking, slowly and subtly bob your head and shoulders from side to side to the rhythm of a chopped and screwed version of Issac Hayes’s Walk On By. If this doesn’t work, David Porter’s version of Hang On Sloopy will do.

How To Look While Walking

Make sure to always look either slightly amused or slightly irritated. This will remind onlookers that you have a big penis.

How To Drive

1. Lean far enough back in your seat that people waiting for buses have to tilt their necks to see your face, but not so far that you have to sit up every time you need you hit your turn signal.

2. Make sure to time your music so that your hardest sounding track just happens to come on right when you’re at a busy intersection. Slowly bob your head, look straight ahead, and pretend like you don’t care if people are looking at you.

3. Only drive cars featured in commercials narrated by a man’s voice.

How To Secure a Loan for $30,000

1. Find the nearest bank.

2. Rob it.

3. Return the next day with all of the money. This will build trust.

4. Do this two more times. After the third time, the bank manager will be so impressed by your magnanimousness that he’ll allow you to keep the money.

How To Have Sex

1. Get naked

2. After getting naked, pause to put on Timberlands and Ray-Bans.

3. Admire self in mirror.

4. Charge cell phone for 15 minutes while still admiring self in mirror.

5. While phone is charging, entertain woman by allowing her to do pull-ups and dips on penis.

6. After phone is charged, instruct woman to turn around.

7. Insert penis.

8. Start recording self

9. Say “Yeah” repeatedly to no one in particular, making sure your voice gets deeper each time.

10. Don’t forget to remember that woman is still there. Do this by asking her to say your name. Hearing your name will remind you that she is still there.

11. Dougie while climaxing.

How To Be Attractive To Black Women

1. If she happens to be dark-skinned, compliment her hair.

2. If she happens to be light-skinned, allude to her “realness” and her “commitment to the struggle.”

3. Ask her if she watched the Melissa Harris-Perry show last week. If she didn’t, she’ll think “Wow. This guy watches Melissa Harris-Perry, and I don’t.” This will arouse her. If she did, she’ll think “Wow. We can watch Melissa Harris-Perry together.” This will also arouse her.

4. Be tall

5. Don’t be short.

How To Grill A Bucket Of Jerk Chicken Wings

1. Have someone (preferably a woman) purchase a bucket of jerk chicken wings.

2. Place wings on grill.

3. Wear gloves for safety, and to safely smack anyone who dares near the wings before you’re done grilling.

4. Stare at jerk chicken wings like jerk chicken wings just told you a joke, and you’re trying not to laugh.

How To Let Everyone On A Packed Bus Know That Although You Gave Up Your Seat To An Attractive White Woman, Her Being An Attractive White Woman Had Nothing To Do With It

1. Give up said seat.

2. After giving up seat, she will thank you.

3. Nod your head, don’t speak, and walk to the back of the bus.

4. Remove copy of The Bluest Eye from your attache.

5. Begin reading while nodding head and taking notes.

How To Say “Word.”

1. Grow out facial hair.

2. When sufficient amount of facial hair has been grown, give self goatee.

3. Rub goatee with thumb and index finger.

4. Shake head slowly, and make face like you’re trying to remember if you need to buy a pack of bacon.

5. Say “Word.”

How To Remind People That Telling You “You kinda look like Stevie J” Isn’t Really A Compliment

1. Kinda look like Stevie J.

2. When people ask you if anyone’s ever told you that you kinda look like Stevie J, lie and say “No.”

How To Successfully Flirt With Cashiers At Rite-Aid

1. Kinda look like Stevie J.

2. When she asks you if anyone’s ever told you that you kinda look like Stevie J, lie and say “No.” When done lying, say “Why?”

3. When she tells you that you kinda look like Stevie J, say “Word?”

4. Tell her you want a wellness card. (Even better if you already have one.)

How To Be Humble

1. Give all praise to God. Or Allah. (Whichever floats your boat)

2. After done giving praise to God (or Allah), allow stripper to finish lap dance.

3. Don’t look like you’re enjoying it too much.

How To Be A Good Dad To Your Son If You’re Not With His Mom Anymore

1. Make son your Facebook profile pic.

2. Sporadically hang around and shit

2. Coach son’s Pee-Wee football team.

3. If son is good, stay in child’s life by continuing to coach.

4. If son sucks, stop coaching, but still hang around sporadically.

Hopefully, this helps. But, if anyone still needs more assistance on how to be really, really good at being a Black man, hit me up at contact@verysmartbrothas.com

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

As Long As You Shut The F*ck Up, You Can Be As F*cked Up As You Want

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You can feel like this, my n*gga, but you can't say that sh*t, my n*gga.

You can feel like this, my n*gga, but you can’t say that sh*t, my n*gga.

The recent “flap” over New Jersey governor Chris Christie’s “controversial” use over the word boy in a speech he was giving at a Black church just proves how words can be your undoing. Granted, Gov. Christie isn’t catching too much flack for it, but still, the story that he used the word “boy” towards an African-American man made the media rounds on Twitter which is like yelling fire in a crowded room – pretty soon the fire actually exists and Brick will have killed a guy.

And Lil Wayne will have died.

To be clear, I’ve watched the clip numerous times and there’s no way you can convince me he was calling the guy “boy”.

Anyway, I’m going to make a fairly significant leap here into something that I thought about whilst picking a dandelion the other day on a particularly warm March day:

As long as you don’t say anything particularly controversial, then you aren’t controversial.

And the crowd said, “duh”. So what do I mean? Glad you asked.

Let’s paint a scenario. If I’m a white man and I never ever date another person outside of my race, or don’t really interact with other people of other races, does that make me racist?

I don’t think so. I think it just makes you white in America. That’s totally possible. Hell, if you live in South Dakota that might be your entire existence. Forever. And that’s okay. Just because options exist doesn’t mean you have to take them…right? Everybody’s got their own prejudices and biases anyway. Hell I don’t like women with one gray eye and one grey eye. The vowel change really bothers me.

But the second you utter the words, “I don’t date people of other races.” Or even, “I really don’t date Black people” then, well, congratulations, you’re a racist. And not even the fun kind like, like the kind who can appreciate Black women hugging. So here’s my point, while you might be a racist at heart, you ain’t a racist until you say some racist sh*t. Which also translates into many other facets of life. Such as?

Glad you asked.

“I don’t really want to date a handicapped person.”

I’ve heard this with my own two ears. I got what the person was saying when they said it. Hell I understand it. But you just can’t saaaaaaaaaaaay that sh*t out loud. You just can’t. No amount of volunteer work at the Special Olympics or backtracking is going to make you sound like anything but a total douchebag. Which is probably unfair since I think most people tend to be about that status quo lifestyle. Status quo kind of implies “whole” person. But, again, if you say it, you just sound like a douche.

“Those people….”

There is almost never a good way to use the term “those people…” and it not turn off somebody listening to you. And why is this? Well because 174 percent of the time that the words “those people” are being used its in order to draw a distinction between yourself and whoever it is your speaking about. This group usually includes but is not limited to midgets, Black people, immigrants of color, Muslims, gypsys, circus performers, rappers (of all colors), Asians at top tier institutions or in the hood, Black people in Europe, any and all Afrians, etc. You get the point. Any group that can and has been maligned is usually who is being referenced in the “those people…”

However, it ALSO gets used in the other direction by liberals to include (but not limited to): Republicans, Tea Party activists, gun nuts, homophobes, heterophobes, phobes, White people that don’t live in urban areas, etc. You get the point.

Everyone’s a little bit racist.

“I’m glad slavery happened, otherwise we’d still be stuck in Africa.”

I’ve heard this said as well. And you know, amid this young man’s mis-informed and utter ridiculous statement, I knew what he was trying to say. It’s just stupid, inaccurate, and insanely dangerous. Which brings a point up that, silence is golden. If you ever have to say “I don’t know how to say what I’m trying to say” then you probably need not say it. Love 40. This statement was made in one of my classes at Morehouse. By a Black dude. And he got raked across the coals for it. Rightly. You just can’t say that on television.

Which reminds me of another statement I once heard in undergrad…

“We’re all judging, but if back in the day it was common for men to take and sleep with little boys, maybe it was just okay then.”

Again, I get what he was trying to say – don’t hate the player, hate the game – but there’s just no way to make some grand statements like that ever sound okay. Condoning child sexual abuse in a historical context is going to get you the side-eye like a motherf*cker. Trust me. And no, I didn’t say that, I side-eyed the sh*t out of the cat who said that.

For more direct examples of things you just can’t say out loud, revisit the #Steubenville conversations via Twitter the past few days.

So, good people of VSB, as language can ruin your life, what are some other examples of feelings you can have all the live long day, that you just can’t say out loud for fear of reprisal?

Reprise.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. I AIN’T SAY THAT SH*T aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

****BTW: If you purchased and received your VSB crewneck, could you take a pic for us and send it in to contact@verysmartbrothas.com.****