This article spells out the reasons why black men in America are stressed out and 1.7 times more susceptible to diabetes.
What is the solution?
The film “Get Out” shows other reasons why black men need to be on guard 24 hours 7 days a week!
This article spells out the reasons why black men in America are stressed out and 1.7 times more susceptible to diabetes.
What is the solution?
The film “Get Out” shows other reasons why black men need to be on guard 24 hours 7 days a week!
Columnist Al Calloway of the South Florida Times posed this question:
What’s the black strategy if Trump wins?
The largely Republican-right white nationalist Trump crowds roar approval when the Donald cites years of African American loyalty to the Democratic Party for which, he alleges, they have nothing to show for it. Trump indicts Hillary’s boast of 30 years in public service and exhorts African Americans to vote for him, stating, “you have nothing to lose.”
Here’s Calloway’s article: http://www.sfltimes.com/opinion/whats-the-black-strategy-if-trump-wins
Before even reading the article, I responded: RUN!!!
Then, S.E. Anderson responded to me with:
To which I retorted:
Obviously, fright and flight is no joke. But running toward freedom is a viable strategy.
The Northern flight through the Underground RR was most definitely ‘running’.
Tubman’s quote still stands, “If they knew they were slaves, I could have saved thousands.”
We need a flight plan because, if Trump wins, even a railroad ticket won’t help us.
I had a nice, long talk with Patricia Hilliard, Asa’s daughter. I became a lifetime member of the Association of Black Women Historians. I struck up a conversation with George McDonald about:
to determine if his $5 million budget could be used to get an ‘act of Congress’ to set up lodgings in National Parks for homeless citizens, many of whom are women with children and veterans.
It’s ridiculous that there are 84.4 million acres in the National Parks system, while more than 500,000 people – a quarter of them children – have nowhere to live. It is ludicrous. It is criminal because there are still human beings that do not fit into the pattern of ‘civilization’ because they are, in fact, nomadic, which is how most tribes started out on this planet.
But the bureaucracy that set up the National Parks System that was lily-white, until The Petermans took the initiative to confront the NPS regime and published their first book Legacy on the Land to encourage African Americans to visit some of the 58 national parks in the U.S.A. despite their ingrained fear of forests where their forefathers, grandfathers, uncles, and brothers hung from trees.
What is it that we cannot get???
Running from the truth or running to the light?
Either way, either of the two candidates running will undoubtedly cause one or more groups in the country to RUN!!!
So, running will be the norm, whether it’s for Black people running from “Emboldened alienated white working-class folk, the police, and various white nationalists that will be deputized by Trump to ‘Make America Great [WHITE] Again,’ or those folks running from us. Somebody gonna be runnin’!!!
And ‘Black Liberation’ cannot nor will ever be attained without WHITE LIBERATION from the idiotic ideology of white supremacy, a paradigm that is shifting in ever-deepening quicksand. Their time is up. GAME OVER. WAKE UP melanated people, and push back!
Run, people, run toward the light, toward TRUTH, toward the land o’ make believe.
Run, until you reach the edge of the abyss that is human beings believing that to be civilized is to put a gate at the entrance of land that once was and should be put to good use by people living on sidewalks of the so-called ‘greatest show on Earth’ – Amerikkka!
Below is my response to this article
America is a corporation based on free enterprise, meaning that anyone, white, black, brown, yellow, or red can start their own business. Blaming others for your failure is nonsensical. Each of us, every human being on Earth has a gift that is uniquely theirs.
It costs less than $100 to incorporate a business in any state in the United States. I’m not sure what it costs in other countries. But the corporate tax per year is $150 before May 1 in the U.S. So for $100 plus $150 per year, you’re in business. Your target market can be anyone or just the people in your particular group. Advertisement is the key to doing business – letting people know you offer a product or service.
The problem is that people do not educate themselves on entrepreneurship. They are lazy and would rather get a J-O-B working to make somebody else (usually white men in business) RICH! The moment you take a job, you have placed a value on your time.
Stop blaming somebody else for your own shortcomings. Evidently Rosalind Brewster did the work to make herself valuable to Sam’s Club. She’s right about the importance of diversity. But how many women and people of color have done the work she has to be in the position she is in?
Either get an education or start your own business or do both. That is the solution in my opinion.
Today, I am more appreciative of my own life, the lives of my children and their children. However, the pain of others is vast and I AM now sending Light and Love to all of those who live a life without joy. May their hearts be opened to peace and comfort.
Yesterday, a 20-year-old white boy in Newtown, Connecticut slaughtered 26 people, including 18 children and the principal of Sandy Hook Elementary School, and himself. Last night, I found it hard to fall asleep, thinking that my grandchild is the same age as some of those murdered. It all started, when Adam Lanza shot and killed his mother, Nancy Lanza with her own guns.
My dilemma is that Wolf Blitzer on CNN said “This is the worst massacre in the history of America.” Huh? Does he have convenient amnesia?
I’m struggling with one thing. America was built by people who slaughtered thousands of Native Americans (with guns and gun powder that Marco Polo “discovered” in China). The Trail of Tears resulted in the death of 6,000 Cherokee out of 15,000 that were walked from Tennessee to Oklahoma. Now, the Oklahoma bombing in 1995 killed 168 people. Columbine massacre in 1999 killed 15 people. Four people dead in the Oregon mall shooting on December 13, 2012.
What do all of these events have in common? Young, white men considered to be “warm, loving?” by their family and neighbors???
Is there sleeper cell activity going on here?
The minds of society are NOT just now degenerating. This country was founded by degenerates whose blood flows down to this generation of murders with no consciousness.
Why this matters to me.
My great grandfather was Cherokee and, somehow, got the name Savage Logan. My grandmother, H. Maude Logan left property in Asheville, NC, to my mother Charlotte Galloway.
White Americans, particularly those who lived on the western frontier, often feared and resented the Native Americans they encountered: To them, American Indians seemed to be an unfamiliar, alien people who occupied land that white settlers wanted (and believed they deserved). [Source]
The Indian-removal process continued. In 1836, the federal government drove the Creeks from their land for the last time: 3,500 of the 15,000 Creeks who set out for Oklahoma did not survive the trip. [Source]
See this List of Massacres
Human beings kill each other at alarming rates over ethnicity, religion, land, money, competitiveness, power, fear, or a lover. The question is, if we are higher than angels and the beasts of the Earth, why can’t we stop the killing?
I call on My Mighty I AM Presence, all the Ascended Masters, guardian angels, and any and all Lightworkers in and around the Earth to STOP THE KILLING, now!!!
Be sure to see all of the videos – Parts 1-3.
Excerpt from The New Yorker’s Endorsement of President Obama:
In the realm of foreign policy, Obama came into office speaking the language of multilateralism and reconciliation—so much so that the Nobel Peace Prize committee, in an act as patronizing as it was premature, awarded him its laurels, in 2009. Obama was embarrassed by the award and recognized it for what it was: a rebuke to the Bush Administration. Still, the Norwegians were also getting at something more affirmative. Obama’s Cairo speech, that same year, tried to help heal some of the wounds not only of the Iraq War but, more generally, of Western colonialism in the Middle East. Speaking at Al Azhar University, Obama expressed regret that the West had used Muslim countries as pawns in the Cold War game of Risk. He spoke for the rights of women and against torture; he defended the legitimacy of the State of Israel while offering a straightforward assessment of the crucial issue of the Palestinians and their need for statehood, citing the “humiliations—large and small—that come with occupation.”
It was an edifying speech, but Obama was soon instructed in the limits of unilateral good will. Vladimir Putin, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Bashar al-Assad, Hu Jintao, and other autocrats hardened his spirit. Still, he proved a sophisticated and reliable diplomat and an effective Commander-in-Chief. He kept his promise to withdraw American troops from Iraq. He forbade torture. And he waged a far more forceful campaign against Al Qaeda than Bush had—a campaign that included the killing of Osama bin Laden. He negotiated—and won Senate approval of—a crucial strategic-arms deal with the Russians, slashing warheads and launchers on both sides and increasing the transparency of mutual inspections. In Afghanistan, he has set a reasonable course in an impossible situation.
[In contrast,] Mitt Romney has embraced the values and the priorities of a Republican Party that has grown increasingly reactionary and rigid in its social vision. It is a party dominated by those who despise government and see no value in public efforts aimed at ameliorating the immense and rapidly increasing inequalities in American society. A visitor to the F.D.R. Memorial, in Washington, is confronted by these words from Roosevelt’s second Inaugural Address, etched in stone: “The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide for those who have too little.” Romney and the leaders of the contemporary G.O.P. would consider this a call to class warfare. Their effort to disenfranchise poor, black, Hispanic, and student voters in many states deepens the impression that Romney’s remarks about the “forty-seven per cent” were a matter not of “inelegant” expression, as he later protested, but of genuine conviction.
If the keynote of Obama’s Administration has been public investment—whether in infrastructure, education, or health—the keynote of Romney’s candidacy has been private equity, a realm in which efficiency and profitability are the supreme values. As a business model, private equity has had a mixed record. As a political template, it is stunted in the extreme. Private equity is concerned with rewarding winners and punishing losers. But a democracy cannot lay off its failing citizens. It cannot be content to leave any of its citizens behind—and certainly not the forty-seven per cent whom Romney wishes to fire from the polity.
The Romney-Ryan ticket represents a constricted and backward-looking vision of America: the privatization of the public good. In contrast, the sort of public investment championed by Obama—and exemplified by both the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act and the Affordable Care Act—takes to heart the old civil-rights motto “Lifting as we climb.” That effort cannot, by itself, reverse the rise of inequality that has been under way for at least three decades. But we’ve already seen the future that Romney represents, and it doesn’t work.
The re-election of Barack Obama is a matter of great urgency. Not only are we in broad agreement with his policy directions; we also see in him what is absent in Mitt Romney—a first-rate political temperament and a deep sense of fairness and integrity.
[Read entire article]
“Now we are engaged in a great civil war,” said Lincoln at Gettysburg, “testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure.” Lincoln was fond of drawing attention outward, from local events to world import, from the crisis in America to the larger question of whether any democracy could survive the test the divided United States then faced. The Civil War, he argued, “embraces more than the fate of these United States.” Before issuing the Emancipation Proclamation — which would free slaves only in the seceded states that remained beyond the president’s immediate control — he fretted about “a document that the whole world will see must necessarily be inoperative, like the Pope’s bull against the comet,” referring to Callixtus III, who supposedly excommunicated Haley’s Comet because it was a bad war omen.
And when he had finally signed the preliminary Emancipation Proclamation in September of 1862, he spoke to celebratory crowds gathered outside the White House: “It is now for the country and the world to pass judgment.”
This was more than a rhetorical trope, and not just a reminder that the world was watching. Lincoln’s agonizing over the proclamation reflected a host of worries about self-government, practical politics, the future of the newly free African Americans and very possibly his own racist misgivings.
But foremost among these was the question of legitimacy and the constitutionality of the document. Even if issued as a war measure, a mere confiscation of enemy property, it was sure to be seen by many — perhaps even by Lincoln himself — as extraordinary medicine, even extra-legal. His Hamlet-like vacillating and deception during that period 150 years ago, when he pondered the document, wrote it, hid it in a drawer and finally issued it can best be understood in terms of Lincoln’s deep-seated fears about the viability of democracy: Was it capable of fixing itself?
In the late 19th century, as white Americans tried to exorcise the memory of slavery, the Emancipation Proclamation lost luster, replaced in the popular imagination by the more eloquent Gettysburg Address (which didn’t even mention slavery). And today it seems strange that we celebrate the proclamation at all, except as a precursor to the far more sweeping and triumphant accomplishment of the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, which two years later banned slavery everywhere in the country, without qualifications or geographical exceptions. We have mostly forgotten the reality of the document itself, its ignominious origins in military crisis, its lack of moral certainty, its dull rhetoric and all the other faults that led historian Richard Hofstadter to complain that it “had all the moral grandeur of a bill of lading.”
And yet this document of war remains a sacred document of democracy, testament to the messiness rather than the ideals of governing. In an age when Western democracies are confronted by new forms of authoritarianism, which offer prosperity and security in exchange for political quiescence, the Emancipation Proclamation forces us to think about the fundamental vexations of representative government: Is democracy capable of resolving grand crises? Can we defend against terrorism without compromise to liberty? Can we reform our economies and free ourselves from crippling debts? Can we stave off environmental apocalypse? In short, is democracy capable of great things?
Both celebrated and condemned
If you can make your peace with the Emancipation Proclamation, you can make your peace with Lincoln. The president claimed it as the signal accomplishment of his administration, and it established him in the minds of free slaves and the annals of popular history as “the Great Emancipator.” Parsing the document may be the most productive and inconclusive franchise in Lincoln scholarship. Over the past 150 years, it has been celebrated as the death knell of slavery yet condemned as an unconstitutional usurpation of power, a capitulation by the president to his radical left flank, proof of Lincoln’s slow and inadequate evolution toward racial justice, a mere tool in the prosecution of the war, a political gambit to demoralize the South, a reckless invitation to race war, and both the least and the most that a cautious, deliberate leader could manage at the moment.
During his presidential campaign, Lincoln promised that his personal opposition to slavery wouldn’t affect the institution where it was legal. And while the Civil War was first prosecuted with assurances that the goal was the restoration of union, not abolition, Lincoln began dropping hints of of a general emancipation in the summer of 1862.
His record on slavery up to that time had been mixed. He had countermanded or discouraged orders by Union generals freeing slaves in Missouri, South Carolina, Georgia and Florida, citing presidential prerogatives and the necessity of placating the slave-holding but still-loyal border states. But he had also signed an April 1862 bill that abolished slavery in the District of Columbia, and a few months later he freed slaves throughout U.S. territories.
His rhetoric was equally ambivalent. Lincoln’s opposition to slavery often seemed lukewarm. As Frederick Douglass said years after the war, “Viewed from the genuine abolition ground, Mr. Lincoln seemed tardy, cold, dull and indifferent.”
Historians have attempted to square these apparent contradictions in different ways. John Hope Franklin, in his 1963 history of the Emancipation Proclamation, gave Lincoln the credit of most doubts, depicting the president besieged on all sides, from radical abolitionists who denounced an urgent moral evil to slaveholders still loyal to the Union who constantly threatened to join the South if Lincoln wavered on his promise to pursue only reunification. “The pressure of individuals and groups added to the President’s woes without contributing to a practical solution of the problem,” wrote Franklin.
No matter his feelings on slavery, Lincoln felt compelled to present and defend the Emancipation Proclamation as a military necessity — a strategic blow to the South, where the economy and thus the war effort depended on slave labor — rather than a moral statement. When it came, it was essentially two documents, beginning with a threat issued on Sept. 22, 1862, that he would emancipate slaves in any state still in rebellion on Jan. 1, 1863. He shared the preliminary proclamation with his Cabinet on July 22 but withheld it on the advice of Secretary of State William H. Seward, who feared it would look desperate to issue it in the midst of the summer’s military disasters. Lincoln waited two months, until after the battle of Antietam — by no means a decisive Union victory, but at least not a disaster — to make it public. The actual proclamation, greeted by ecstatic Jubilee celebrations on New Year’s Day by African Americans and abolitionists in the North, made good on the earlier threat.
The first proclamation wasn’t universally popular in the United States or abroad. It angered abolitionists for its half measures, for being merely an instrument of military policy, for its vague promise of compensation to slave owners and for its mention of colonization — Lincoln’s scheme to send freed blacks to other countries after liberation. The working class in England loved it, but their leaders, deeply embroiled in Colonial projects, saw it as a dangerous invitation to black-on-white war and fundamentally hypocritical. “The principle asserted,” said the Spectator, “is not that a human being cannot justly own another, but that he cannot own him unless he is loyal to the United States.” Between the preliminary threat and the actual emancipation, however, feelings softened, especially among abolitionists.
Yet nothing that troubled Lincoln in the first document was cleared up by the second. Lincoln repeatedly said he believed that the proclamation was constitutional, but it was immediately declared not so by editorialists throughout the North and the South. Even former Supreme Court Justice Benjamin R. Curtis, who had dissented in the notorious 1857 Dred Scott case and resigned from the court in part because of the decision, attacked Lincoln’s proclamation as an unjust extension of executive power. When Lincoln had a chance to appoint a new chief justice in 1864, he chose the stalwart anti-slavery Republican Salmon Chase, in part because Chase could be counted upon not to overturn the proclamation.
Regardless of Lincoln’s motivations and true feelings, his delay and mixed messages had a serious impact on African Americans, according to some scholars.
“There is no making sense of such a perverse record,” writes historian Mark Neely Jr., who has convincingly demonstrated the miserable effect Lincoln’s equivocating had on free blacks. The nation was riven by race riots, and some African Americans in the North were seriously considering leaving the country: “A truthful revelation of the government policy embodied in a document in Lincoln’s desk might have changed the course of their lives.”
But likely, Lincoln was no less consistent than any other man, and though a gifted logician in argument, he was not necessarily logical in his own views on race and slavery. If he could be transplanted from his age into ours, his racial views would sound like the soft-core animus of a genteel “Bell Curve” racist: Intent on basic fairness, but convinced that whites are more civilized and better adapted to self-governance than blacks. His view on abolition might remind us of the sincerely halfhearted way that many people today embrace environmentalism or vegetarianism, convinced of their moral necessity yet unwilling to zealously oppose an entrenched way of life. This is either hypocrisy or moderation, depending on one’s perspective.
In fear of great power
Throughout his career, Lincoln was haunted by an almost superstitious fear of executive fiat, which may best explain his anguish before signing the proclamation. It showed up early, in an 1838 speech to the Young Men’s Lyceum in Springfield, Ill., in which he imagined a Nietzschean superman rising up within American democracy and threatening it with dictatorial ambition: “Is it unreasonable, then, to expect that some man possessed of the loftiest genius, coupled with ambition sufficient to push it to its utmost stretch, will at some time spring up among us? And when such an one does, it will require the people to be united with each other, attached to the government and laws, and generally intelligent, to successfully frustrate his designs.” This “towering genius,” Lincoln feared, might exploit the demagogic potential of slavery: “It thirsts and burns for distinction; and if possible, it will have it, whether at the expense of emancipating slaves or enslaving freemen.”
This was Lincoln in fear of a man just like himself. The idea of great power often seemed to flummox him. “If all earthly power were given me, I should not know what to do, as to the existing institution,” he said, as preamble to some of his more overtly racist and despairing remarks about slavery. His comparison of emancipation to a papal “bull,” and his frequent reference to it as a “thunderbolt” suggest how keenly he felt it might set a dangerous precedent for a nation of laws, even if limited in scope and justified as an act of war. Perversely, he yielded often enough to the temptation he abhorred, suspending habeas corpus and arresting a political opponent for giving a speech that might discourage the war effort.
And yet there is almost universal agreement — and Lincoln felt so, too — that while the 13th Amendment abolished slavery legally, the Emancipation Proclamation had killed it symbolically, and, short of a Southern victory, in all practical senses. So while a magnificent act of human justice, it was hardly an accomplishment of democracy. By the summer of 1862, Lincoln had despaired of a purely democratic process to abolish slavery, through compensation, containment and a natural withering away. Slavery would require an extraordinary response, a “thunderbolt” from outside the system of laws and representative government. He himself would have to hurl that bolt.
A crisis he envisioned
The unruliness of democracy, bitter sectional feeling, entrenchment of the slave system and Southern moral defensiveness had led America to the place of crisis Lincoln so feared in his Lyceum speech. Secession and war were failures of the democratic system, and the emancipation order underscored that failure.
This was not the way things were supposed to work in the City on a Hill, which looked impotent and broken in a world still full of vigorous autocrats. In 1861, a year before the American emancipation, Alexander II of Russia freed more serfs, and promised them more opportunities, than Lincoln did the slaves. In 1879, as Reconstruction was failing, the czar compared his thoroughly authoritarian solution with Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation, saying he could not “understand how you Americans could have been so blind as to leave the Negro Slave without tools to work out his salvation.”
Lincoln was long dead. But he might have said it wasn’t a matter of being blind to the problem or unaware of the dangers. He had done what he could, which might be more than the Constitution allowed. And in so doing he had righted a great wrong, paved the way for the union to survive and set a precedent that deeply troubled him.
We can sympathize today, living in a democratic system that is even larger and more unwieldy, and growing more polarized. It is a common theme of political speculation that large, Western democracies may be endangered, today: by the lethargy with which they respond to crises, the half measures and sausage making that vitiates most efforts at reform, and the sheer accumulation of threats — environmental, political and social. The Emancipation Proclamation is a terrifying reminder that sometimes the only way to fix the system is to let it break down and then hit the reset button.