TUESDAY THOUGHTS: SAVAGES?

In the 70's, we had ZERO business sitting in a movie theater watching the string of Blaxploitation films that were produced, but it was so exciting to see Black actors on screen. No one at the box offices was conscious of ratings, nor asking how old you were. 

When I was a kid, there were three, one-screen theaters to which we had access: The Atlantic, The Congress, and The Anacostia. 

Every now and then, we'd go to 'The Town". 

There, we could see people who looked like us. Every film based on slavery was entertaining, but sad and maddening. 

Everyone left the theater boasting what they would have done if they had lived during slavery times. (Ummm hmmm...stuff that would have left them beaten or dead). 

Everyone left thinking that we hadn't quite overcome, but any advancement was better than being a slave.

Today, as the word "savage" gets tossed around in reference to Ferguson, Missouri protesters, and women continue to emerge with accusations against "America's Dad", I was reminded of Warren Oates' closing lines in the film "Drum", the sequel to "Mandingo" (starring Ken Norton and Pam Grier). Oates' character Hammond Maxwell, a slave trader, had been rescued by Drum as his plantation was on fire as a result of a slave revolt. 

As Maxwell, Marianna (Drum's white mother) and Drum took refuge in a barn, Maxwell said, 

"You zany not to kill us while you got the chance, Boy...You better run. You better run like Hell...Run, you goddamn nigger. I don't wanna have to kill ya. I don't wanna have to kill ya! Run!...

Them niggers. You never know about niggers. They act like humans sometimes, then all of a sudden they go crazy like some kind of mad critter. 

Once they get human blood in 'em, they just can't act like proper niggers no mo'."

Clearly, people today share his ignorant views--and have obviously not seen (or deliberately ignored) the images of sports fans rioting in Arizona, Minnesota, San Francisco, Vancouver, Connecticut, Kentucky or San Francisco after athletic games. But I digress.

I don't know why hatred and prejudice ever surprise me. I'm a Jesus fan. I know why he had to leave his throne in glory. The creation that God once deemed "very good" had gone buck wild, and lost its collective mind.
"He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness even until now." 

1 John 2:9 is true, but it doesn't apply to the person who sees another human being as less than human. Surely a savage isn't a brother. Is he?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." 

Matthew 5:43-45 is true, but it doesn't apply to the person who sees another person as unworthy to occupy the house next door. Savages can't be neighbors, can they?

People who have never experienced discrimination can only empathize. People who are convinced of their superiority, and totally negate the role of grace in their lives, don't care. 

They will never fully understand. 

Being inflammatory, insensitive, and clueless is their only mode of operation.

I remember summer trips to Louisiana. 

My grandmother always gave us the speech before she sent us off to the store. 

We had to make sure we were polite--extremely polite. 

We were not to sass anyone at the store. 

Just give the clerk her list and watch our mouths. 

We were children. 

Why would anyone want to hurt us? 

We were the children of the "uppity niggers from up to DC", but we were also "Miss Ethel's grand". 

The respect they had for her made life easy for us. 

It was up to us as children, however, to make sure we didn't get too big for our britches as we navigated Addis. We were in their town. What flew in DC didn't fly there. 

We had to remember that.

I don't know if you got the speeches from your parents that I got from mine: 

"Know when to turn it on and when to turn it off"; "You have to be twice as good"; 

"You have to have a college degree to compete". 

I imagine we were groomed to become the "acceptable" brand of Negro. 

We had to dress up to go shopping. 

We had to be respectable. 

Years later, my respectability still didn't stop a white woman from getting out of her car and calling me a "filthy Black bitch" when I pulled into a parking space downtown to let my friend Alice get out in front of a dry cleaning establishment. 

The woman said it as if that was precisely what I was. The words of a stranger stung. Something snapped. I just stared at her. Although I never moved or said a word, suddenly she was afraid, screamed for her husband to come back, got back into her car and locked the doors. 

He shrugged his shoulders, and told her that she shouldn't have spoken to me that way. 

He kept walking into the store. 

That day, I wanted to fight. 

Her husbands words were calming, amusing, and informative. 

I was reminded that not everyone is ignorant and bigoted. Some people will leave you to get just what you deserve.

We were taught to be peaceful. We were taught how to stay alive; how to diffuse situations; how to minimize the waves we made; how to put our best foot forward. 

Here we are in 2014. 

There is a hated Black man in the White House, yet the lives of young black men are being snuffed out with painful regularity. 

Is it because they are more like Yaphet Kotto's character "Blase" than Ken Norton's character "Drum"? 

Are young Black men tired of being patient, polite, and subservient? 

Are they deciding that if they're going to be referred to as "savages", then they may as well play the part? Is their motto "No discretion, no fear, no filters, no regard for systems, rules, laws, or authority, no finesse, no self-control, no bowing, scraping, tap dancing, singing, dancing and no cotton picking"?

Fathers. 

Brothers. 

Black men, retain your authority in your homes and communities. 

Talk to your sons, grandsons, nephews. 

Go and get them. 

Embrace them. 

Show them the history. 

In the words of comedian Paul Mooney, "Know your history. You've got to know your history, You have to know". 

Show them the images. 

Tell them the truth. 

Teach them how to play the game, and explain that the rules are always subject to change. 

Tell them who they are--valuable, loved, filled with God-given greatness. 

Resurrect the speech that preserves dignity, self-worth and at the same time, keeps your sons alive. 

At the end of the film, Drum ran. His master told him he had to. Either he was going to kill him himself, or watch him be killed by an angry mob. What he said he could not do, was vouch for the fact that Drum neither organized, nor wanted to participate in the revolt. 

He took his master's advice and ran. 

We don't know if he was shot in the back, escaped, or captured and returned to the fields. 

He was running, but the look on his face revealed that he had no idea where safety, fairness, and freedom ruled and reigned.

I listened to Stevie Wonder's "Love's In Need of Love Today", and "Heaven Help Us All" last night. His composition, "Misrepresented People", featured in Spike Lee's film "Bamboozled", is profoundly fitting today.