Only God Can Judge Me...

After class yesterday, I think the main issue we will run into is not the act of opening up to each other about race, but clinging to frivolous and arbitrary points of view derived solely from the places in which we are comfortable. We don't want to feel that the places where we are coming from are in some way flawed. They are what we know as home base. Wise talked (or yelled) about white guilt and privilege. Valid points to discuss, though in some ways highly detrimental. Entitlement kills ambition. This can work on both sides of the proverbial fence. It involves all colors. And though the point can be made that it was whites who have constructed the social structure, leading to institutional inequality, it is an issue that grips all of us (though, I, as a white person, can only feel "guilty").

In all reality, I don't feel guilty. I haven't done anything. I understand that I am entitled luxuries that people of color may not be afforded. That angers me. But the way I combat that is to treat all people as I would want to be treated. I read it in a book somewhere. Some billboard on the highway said it was a bestseller or something...oh, yeah, the Bible. And regardless of faith or morals or whatever you live by, if it's worth anything, this principle should be front and center.

There's no easy fix. It requires patience and a willingness to be bombarded with negative images of the ignorant acting out, still knowing that what you are doing, in your diminutive space, is the greater good. Simple things, like holding your tongue when it might be easy to make a joke at someone else's expense.

It falls on ALL OF US. There's no exclusions. There is always someone to blame.

I leave it to the Rose That Grew From Concrete, warrior poet, beautiful human, regardless of color, to spell it out.

This song should not be taken lightly. A telling excerpt:

Perhaps, I was blind to tha facts
Stabbed in tha back
I Couldn't trust my own homies
just a bunch a dirty rats
Will I, succeed
paranoid from the weed
And hocus pocus try to focus
But I can't see
And in my mind
I'm a, blind man doin' time
Look to my future
cause my past is all behind me
Is it a crime
to fight for what is mine
Everybodies dyin'
Tell me, Whats the use of tryin'
I've been trapped since birth
Cautious, cause I'm cursed
and fantansies of my family
in a hurse
And they say
It's the white man
I should fear
But, it's my own kind
Doin' all the killin' here
I can't lie
Ain't no love, for the other side
Jealousy inside
Make 'em wish I died
Oh my lord
Tell me what I'm livin' for
Everybodies droppin'
got me knockin' on heaven's door
And all my memories
is seeing brothas bleed
And everybody grieves
But still nobody sees
regulate your thoughts
Don't get caught up in tha mix
cause the media is full of dirty tricks
Only God can Judge me....

Tupac makes a clear statement here. Though there be inequality from the start, he can't help but observe that it's mostly other black men doing the killing in his neighborhood. And he is told to blame the white man. He's uneasy about the other side, he states, as he observes hatred there too. Yet, this defines a clear cut theme.

We're not getting anywhere without everyone taking responsibility and dropping the finger pointing at the door. That's when we will make progress.