Jason Toney

The One With Blacks on Blacks on Blacks

"In my head I'm only half together." - Donny Hathaway and Roberta Flack, Be Real Black For Me

It was fitting to end the long weekend in Atlanta Airport's E Concourse in a restaurant, One Flew South, that features a Black Executive Chef and sitting two tables over from Nikki Giovanni. A few yards away from the restaurant entrance stands an exhibit celebrating Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

This is America. This is Blackness. This is Post-Blackness?

I ask the question because it's been the topic of conversation with my wife, with my in-laws, and in my head for most of the last week. I read Touré's book, Who's Afraid of Post-Blackness? over the course of the last two days, essentially in two four-hour sessions, and, as usual, my mind was set ablaze by discussions of Black Identity, this fluid intriguing thing that used to be the primary focus of this here blog. This is not a review of the book, though. That'll come later.

No, this is just an acknowledgment of how much "Blackness" can dominate the psyche. My mother-in-law likes to talk. But, invariably, my conversations with her always turn to her life experience, her Black life experience. How does she herself and how does she see the world? How does that conflict with my father-in-law's experience who sees the world differently than she does. Beyond that, how does that jibe with how I see the world? How Tiffany sees the world? How we see ourselves?

We all know the Black narrative. We know it's tropes and it's confines as well as its many layers. And yet, our four experiences of what it means to be Black in America today are wholly different.

And...And what? My president is black. My boss's boss, too. And I'll be goddamned if I know what that do. To me. And how I see myself. Anything? Everything? Nothing?

Maybe Baratunde's upcoming How to Be Black will help me figure this whole thing out.

Soundtrack to this post

 

Grandma Tales

Soundtrack to this post: Matthew Halsall's Colour Yes

I want to tell you a story of a woman born in the 1930s in a small town in Arkansas. Born to a father who came into the world at the turn of the century and a mother who was half his age. Her father's parents are a mystery shrouded in whispers of murder. I want to tell you of the only "grandparents" she knew, an anomaly of the day -- a white family who wasn't afraid to openly show kindness to a black child in the Jim Crow South.

I want to tell you that story but even though that's the beginning, it's the one I know the least well.

I want to tell you the story of how she migrated north to Detroit at the age of 9. How she was already strong and independent (something she would instill in all her daughters) and how, at 17, she got it in her mind to go to Chicago and see the world. How she'd meet a handsome man, just a few years older than she. He was a smooth talker and knew how to show a girl a good time and before long they were with child. And not long after that, they were married.

I want to tell you the complicated story of their love but I'm not sure it's mine to tell.

I want to tell you about the Brown vs. Board of Education and the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the removal of barriers to education that that brought, which sent this woman, who had only worked as a housekeeper, back to school. I want to tell you how she became a librarian so that she could be sure to always have her own money and never feel like she needed that man she loved but... (like I said, it's complicated). And, also because she adored books. I want to tell you how everything they owned, from the house to the cars, were in her name. Bought, generally, with her money. And, you should also know, that all her children, most of whom, like her, had children at a young age, all went on to college or the military and all of whom, those that still walk this earth, are at the top of their fields.

I want to tell you that story so that you know, and I know, that my good fortune isn't from magic but from the hard work and determination of generations before me. Women, mostly. But my story isn't her story.

I want to tell you that at 76 years old, this woman is still vibrant. She may walk slowly and have to rock herself out of chairs. She may repeat her anecdotes often and confess that she's lonely in that empty house of hers and still broken hearted by the losses that living this long brings. But, she's alive. Her laughter and her eyes still light up a room as bright as they ever did. She is still excited to learn and see new things. She can still spin a delicious yarn when she gets going. It is still the best thing going when she forgets she's talking to her grandson and lets out a curse word in the most jaw-droppingly delightful way. It is still a pleasure to spend time in her presence. She's alive and doesn't have plans on quitting this plane anytime soon. And I'm all the better for it.

And that's the story of a life worth telling.

L.A. Noir (23)

"In the night." - Exile, In The Night 22

L.A. Noir by John Buntin (Harmony Books, 2009). After the Watts Riots, our city's (and the nation's) Top Cop:

"They're attempting to reach these groups...by catering to their emotions," declared Parker (an emotional man who had no patience for that quality in others." 'You're disolacted, you're abandoned; you're abused due to color,'" Parker continued, mimicking and mocking the attitudes of civil rights supporters. The civil rights movement had unleashed the virus of civil disobedience—the belief that people "don't have to obey the law because the law is unjust." At the same time, a huge surge of black migration had "flooded a community that wasn't prepared to meet them." (Parker didn't hide his own feelings about the matter: "We didn't want these people to come in," he told the panel.) Both factors laid the foundations for the uprising. One thing was for certain: The LAPD was not to blame.

This is what L.A. Noir and L.A. history in the 20th century is really all about. While Buntin focuses his story on the intersecting lives of two men—Chief William Parker and gangster Mickey Cohen, what becomes obvious both at the beginning and end of the novel is that Los Angeles, like most american cities, is overwhelmingly impacted by the intersection of "the races".

I don't know what happened in Watts except for what I read and see in books like this but I know what an L.A. riot looks like. I was attending Van Nuys high school and living in the valley in 1992 when the Rodney King riots took place. As I read through the final chapters of this, the images of that time ran through my head constantly. With this reading, however, was more anger and less confused frustration. Now knowing where we had come from, it's obvious that a city that should have learned, that should have understood it's population, simply didn't.

But maybe that's not surprising. We live in Los Angeles, once touted as the last "white spot" of America. The last bastion of safety for those disinterested in mingling with their darker skinned brethren. A city that once believed it was better than Selma but that voted consistently to keep de facto segregation in place. A city whose black population connected more with Malcolm X than Martin Luther King. A city whose police force kept tabs on everyone (and probably still does) and who thought Communism and the Nation of Islam is what riled up black folks not injustice.

We're a complicated lot, Angelenos. Our city created the modern form of policing while, at the same time, much of our city's culture and charm has been birthed out of organized crime. My idea of Los Angeles is one of that salad bowl mix of cultures and I think that's true. But what is also true is that there is this constant tension between us all. L.A. remains a pressure cooker waiting for something to set it off.

Buntin's book conveys that well. While not as elegantly and entertainingly written as A Bright and Guilty Place, it covers a much larger swath of time and gives a much broader view of this city of dreams. And while I would have liked to spend much more time learning more about how the formation and growth of LA's Black community came to pass, as well as the deeper impact and history of figures like eventual Mayor Tom Bradley, that's not what this book is about.

Ultimately, L.A. Noir serves as a reminder for me of one thing: I love this town.

Revisiting #BrownBirds and #BlackTwitter

The dulcet tones of John Dankworth and His Orchestra, Return From the Ashes

When I've complained about the short-sighted writing about black folks and twitter (whether satirically or earnestly), what I've really been looking for is for someone to go deep with what we know about the different ways people are interacting in the digital space broadly. Basically, take findings like this from the Pew Research Center and go all in.

In the case of Twitter, I suspect this is really important

Minority Americans are also relatively likely to use digital technologies to keep up with what’s happening in their neighborhoods. This is especially true of folks who don’t know many of their neighbors by name—tools such as blogs, social networking sites and neighborhood listservs can serve as valuable tools for keeping up with local issues.

This requires more research but this suggests some completely different views of services like Twitter, not just because of some racial factor, but because of how a broad range of social elements impact how we interact in both the digital and physical worlds. It also suggests some different views on community and it's importance to individuals that feel increasingly disconnected from their neighbors in a way that's distinctly different from generations prior.

That's powerful. Forget the hashtag nonsense, let's talk about this. And, then, let's showcase what, based on that same research, seems to be a gap in the marketplace:

Minority attitudes towards social media also diverge notably from those of whites. For example, minority Americans were very active using social technologies to share information during the 2008 election campaign. And when we asked about government outreach using social media, minority respondents were significantly more likely than whites to say that this type of outreach “helps people be more informed about what government is doing” and “makes government more accessible”. They are also much more likely than whites to say it is “very important” for government agencies to post information and alerts on social networking sites.

That's a giant hole that, at this point, seems woefully under-fulfilled. Who is serving this need? And, if you are, are you doing it in ways that resonate with these communities? Are you on myspace and facebook? Do you have mobile apps? Is your app going Android first?

What's your strategy for reaching an audience that leans heavily on mobile devices (non-Apple mobile devices) and is thirsty for deep and meaningful interaction via social media? If you think you can do it the same way you're doing it for your larger customer base, you're wrong.

Black (Twitter) Power

"Perfect verbal architecture sparking lectures." - Jurassic 5, The Influence

Black Web 2.0 posted two conversation spurring lists over the last week or so —one each for black men and women with "power" on twitter. The lists are pretty much terrible and here's why: neither actually measures power. Power suggests some level of influence that actually matters and these two lists are overly weighted to consider follower counts more than other qualitative measures. Anil Dash already debunked the relevancy/accuracy of follower lists earlier this year. I don't mean to suggest that the celebrities that dominate these lists don't wield power, of course they do. What I am suggesting, however, is that in an online social experience like twitter, the impact one has on organic meaningful relationships is more important. Also, influence is constantly changing. I'm not one to usually care about these things but I'd find much more value in a power grid like Mediaite has which takes into account of myriad of factors in establishing their lists relevancy and also is focused, man. To just pull together a list of "Black" people (and I put black in quotes here because the actual blackness of some of these people—see Kat Stacks who self-describes as Venezuelan and Trinidadian—is questionable) doesn't provide any context for why anyone would want to follow these people or care where they rank.

But, this gives me an opportunity to dig through my own lists and suggest the Black folks that influence me. I'll try to keep my friends out of this mostly and focus on two areas: people who consistently post thought provoking tweets (from my brainiacs list) and smart/interesting people that I lovingly call music-headz. Also, just because I'm obnoxious like that, I'm going to kill the gendering. Why can't men and women hang out together in the same arbitrary lists? Hint: They can.

Brainiacs

• Colson Whitehead - just another down on his luck carny with a pocketful of broken dreams
• Ta-Nehisi Coates - Strength: 13 Intelligence: 14 Wisdom: 16 Dexterity: 3 Constitution: 15 Charisma: 13 Spells: Light, Silence, Otto's Irresistible Dance
• Farai Chideya - Multi-media journalist; reporter on race, generational identity, and politics; and author of four books including novel Kiss the Sky.
• Lynne d Johnson - The SVP Social Media for the Advertising Research Foundation @The_ARF. I tweet about music, motorcycles, pop culture, kicks, Android, and social media.
• Baratunde Thurston - Comedian | Vigilante Pundit | Co-Founder @JJPolitics | Web Editor @TheOnion | TV Host @FutureOf
• Elon James - I Spits game like my name is Hasbro! #FallBackSon #YesIDidHashtagMyBio #TisHowIdo #YesIdidUseTheWordTis...
• Rebecca Walker - Award-winning author. Multiplatform catalyst. Eye of the storm.
• Ludovic - Dad, drapetomaniac, activist, music snob, world traveler, cuisine-lover, snarker, and a whole lot more.

Bonus link, just because: negrophile

Music Headz

• Garth Trinidad - fighting the war against musical mediocrity and cultural ignorance
• Talib Kweli - MCEO
• Amir ?uestlove Thompson - your favorite twitterer's favorite music snob.
• Jay Smooth - I do web video at illdoctrine.com, and hip-hop radio at WBAI 99.5 FM in NY.
• Harry Allen - Educate and excite, inform and infuriate.
• Rob Fields - Black rock evangelist | Music entrepreneur
• Erykah Badu - i will not pop 4u or break 4u or hate for u or even hate u

Bonus link, just because: Wax Poetics Mag

In light of Slate's recent tone deafness on this subject, I would have hoped that Black Web 2.0 would put together lists showing the broad diversity of "blackness" online.

#FAIL

SXSW 2006 03.12 - Blogging While Black Revisited: Reloaded

"Could you ever find the love that you would not place yourself above?" - 22-20s, Shoot Your Gun

We had a well stacked audience again. I hope we shut up more this year. Last year, we talked a lot. It was our first time on stage and we felt like we had a whole lot to say so there wasn't much room for questions or interaction. This year, we wanted to let people talk to us, talk with us, talk at us if need be. It worked. I still worry that I might have talked too much and that my college diversity programming leadership training kicked in and I tried to lead the discussion instead of letting the amazing Lynne D Johnson do her thing. If I was a blabbermouth, I apologize.

There's an unedited transcript by Liz Henry at badgerbag (Liz was awesome by the way on her panel today and I want the chance to talk to her more about tags, folksonomies and other "softly viral" tools that bloggers can use to become more accessible) and a wonderful write up by Kevin Lawver at ultranormal. I won't hold it against him that he likes the negrophile seemingly more than this old negro because he talks about feelings and when does a man ever really do that?

No one asked me about my "Shut up, Honky" shirt or Tiffany about her "I *heart* black people" baseball tee. I kind of wanted to have that conversation.

We did, however, talk a lot about language and audience and voice and the importance of identity online. Last year, I was on the fence about the importance of identity on the web. As I said today, I have privacy concerns. In the offline world, I'm a very private man and have struggled with what my verbosity online means for my personal & professional relationships in the "real" world. I've come to grips with that, though. I don't want a job that would be uncomfortable with the content of my blog. I'm willing and ready to defend or talk about things I've written about my family and friends on this blog and if i'm not, please read the blogger's disclaimer and cram to understand.

There were great questions about how knowing who my audience is might now change the way I write and about Black vernacular English. There was discussion of angry words and online beef and the differences in responsibility and protection between the citizen journalist and the media professional. Aaron Hawkins's name was invoked again and I was honored to be able to speak loudly and proudly about his voice, spirit and uppitiness in the presence of Dru and Irina Slutsky (who eulogized Aaron at Red Herring) .

I have to admit that when I met Dru yesterday, I was caught a little off guard. My connection to her, which has waned since his death, will forever be linked to him and a lot of "stuff" came rushing back. It has been a pleasure to be able to see her and get to know her more offline and to begin to build a new relationship that moves past Aaron.

Bonus: Dru has a great liveblog of the panel as well.

But anyway, I still have pretty much a whole week here in Austin but I've already started to think about some things differently. I want to do a lot more for web professionals of color. Blogher and it's power and presence has really inspired me. I want similar tools, resources and community for those who look like me but don't show up here or at eTech or CES or at barcamps or the other places where smart folks like us should be. Not only for the professional connections it affords us but simply because it is a good time, it is an opportunity to collaborate and learn and because I'm guessing, based on a lot of the conversations I've had this year, we afrofuturists/black geeks don't often get the chance to interact with like minded folks.

And we need more opportunities like tonight where we all can get together and dance to our favorite jams, laugh and be comfortable in our own skin.

And to have the opportunity to share with others who don't look like us, make and further those connections and have honest discussions about culture and technology.

We need more time to stop. collaborate. and listen.

"George Bush Doesn't Care About Black People"

"We can make it better (better we can)" - Kanye West, We Can Make It Better (featuring Talib Kweli, Q-Tip, Common & Rhymefest)

Speaking Truth to Power.

That's my favorite phrase this week. "Speaking truth to power." I loved it when Anderson Cooper and Soledad O'Brien and Ted Koppel and Ray Nagin (who isn't above rapproach for his actions prior to the hurricane but who has been a stand up human being in the aftermath) did exactly that earlier this week and I love that an artist who will sell well over a million copies of his sophomore album this week (making him likely the most significant musician of the Fall) put it all on the line to say what he felt.

I'd quibble with the semantics a bit and say that George Bush doesn't care about poor people but you can extrapolate to his point. If you don't care about poor people and poverty effects black people at a much higher rate in this country than any other community then, by extension, you can't really care about black folks right?

If you don't have an urban renewal program, you can't care about poor black people who still live mostly in ghetto-ized urban communities.

If your recently passed bankruptcy bill that goes into effect in October will make it almost impossible for these poverty stricken disaster refugees to recoup much of anything from their losses or get out from under the massive debts they will accrue, then you can't really care about poor people.

If you continue to ignore infrastructure problems in a gulf coast community that is predominantly black while making sure that the oil and trade interests that also are based there are taken care of, you can't really care can you?

Read Sploid this week. Read Amy's Robot this week. Read the Huffington Post. Check out CNN's incredible coverage this week (welcome back to real news, CNN). The New York Times and the LA Times have been great.

Soledad O'Brien pointed out earlier in the week that it only took two days to start airlifting food to Sri Lankan Tsunami victims. It took 4 days. 4 DAYS. 4 FUCKING DAYS!!!! for New Orleans and Waveland and these other gulf port cities to start getting food and water. 4 DAYS for there to be a National Guard Presence. 4 Days for the President of the United States to survey the damage. To get on the ground. To provide leadership.

To be fucking Commander in Chief.

And still people are trapped. Still people sit on rooftops and doors and in shopping carts floating along poisoned water in the humid Southern Summer air waiting for rescue.

And all American cities should be considering what would happen if a disaster struck. In LA, we don't have much to worry about in the world of natural disasters besides a big quake and, thankfully, we seem structurally sound and prepared for such an event but we have nearly 100,000 homeless people in this city. What happens to them? What happens in South Los Angeles when a disaster strikes?

As a society are we doing the best for our weakest members?

What saddens me about that question is that that used to be a regular part of American political discourse. While fighting Communism in the 60s, 70s and 80s, we were still talking about how to help the destitute, the downtrodden, the less well off.

Now we only talk about the rich and the middle class. And our underclass grows.

And dies in domes and convention centers.

The truly disadvantaged.

If our President and our government won't care for them, who will?

Her tenement was rat infested
Her heart is like gold buillon cuz she went and protested
cuz her best friend's man got popped
He was 16 years old and a cop thought his phone was a glock
In the hood it's an every day happening
In front of the precinct she chews out the captain
She yells out, "Why you do this to Black men?"
Come on...We can make it better (better we can)
-Q-tip's verse on We Can Make it Better

The America Some of Us Live In

"The world is mine can't you see, I'm just trying to be all I can be." - The Notorious B.I.G. (featuring Too $hort & Puffy), The World is Filled (Life After Death) 

Humiliated, Angry, Ashamed, Brown. Just read it. I have no words. (found via punkassbitch.com)

Ain't we lucky we got em? Good Times

"You love me, especially different, every time. You keep me on my feet, happy, excited by..." - Jill Scott, He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat) (Who is Jill Scott? Words and Sounds)

So, in this entry, Lynne says in the comments:

i'm feeling a lot of black bourgeoise up in here. but maybe i'm reading incorrectly. anyway, those kids do act out. but maybe that's why they were put on television in the first place. it's like on the news, when they go into the black neighborhood to report on something, and they always pick someone who can't complete a sentence to ask questions of. it's that kind of putting a lock on the stereotypes to keep folks in their place or in check. oddly enough, i can stomach MTBII. b/c there are a lot of kids like that out there. kids with limited education and a dream of being a rapper. this show is just exploiting that. ok...off my soap box now...

and then in this month's XLR8R, they received this letter:

In your year-end issue there was a section of "Bests and Worsts" of 2003 where King Britt stated that one of the worst things about 2003 was Southern rap. He follows this by using African-American Southern vernacular as an example of something that is hindering the progress that black people have made. I know his views are not those of XLR8R, so it ain't really about y'all, but it is about how white supremacy and Eurocentric values have a lot of uppity, bougie black folks making snide comments about a culture they don't understand, despite being black themselves King Britt does not have to like SOuthern rap! But he does have to respect the fact that a lot of black people who do not come from Philadelphia don't speak like him. This does not set black people back, especially if that is the way that they learned to talk from their family and community! I read a lot of these "alternative" magazines 'cause I'm into the music they promte. It never fails that an artist or writer in some backwards way shows that they don't come from the same ethnicity, culture or class as I do. Maybe their parties and concerts are not filled with 24-year-old African American males from East Oakland, but y'all gotta know that you do have readers that are from the ghetto. They see some of the ways that black culture is being ridiculed through masked racism...So next time Britt's boosie ass (that's East Oakland for wack) writes something, he should think about how this language is not his black peoples' original language. Peace, Whiz

So, my question is, as black folks, is it a requirement of cultural criticism that we must first give respect to all actions, styles, and trends before criticizing it? Do I have to say, "I love my southern black peoples and the way they talk" before saying "Damn this crunk shit is so wack!" That "Bourgie" term stings because it suggests, to me, that someone has lost touch with what's really going on in the black community. It's a class dis in the same way that "ghetto", in the way that I hear it, is a class dis. Are both terms acceptable? Is neither? And what does it say about how black folks think about themselves? Anyway, King Britt responds:

Most Southern Rap is very derogatory. I am from the streets of Southwest Philly. There is nothing uppity about me, and I know that certain language is used to communicate and it stays in our community as a code, so to speak. This dates back to slave days. But when you are selling millions of records, you have a responsibility to our people and history to represent yourself in a positive way. That means no degrading of women and showing our people in a positive light instead of emphasizing material things like rims, money, jewelry and alcohol. We have too many young black boys and girls who fall into the cycle of emaulating the bullshit they see in videos. It's not just Southern rap videos, but I chose that as an example because I haven't seen any positive ones...If you can touch that many people, say something! Don't perpetuate the Amos and Andy stereotype-change it!

Yeah. So, I was watching MTB2 last night and as they go into the studio to record again, they are talking about guns and killing with regularity. When was the last time they rolled like that? And then I was watching MTV this morning and T.I.'s Rubberband Man came on which showcased his selling records like it was a drug dealer. But T.I. today invests in construction and his company rebuilds houses in the community. Why isn't he rapping about that? So, yeah. What King Britt said.

Hangin' in a Jorry...Good Times

"Climbing out this hole with a frown on my face in the place to be" - Outkast, Ghettomusick (Speakerboxxx) 

"That show is so ghetto." 

We were discussing reality TV, as people who work in reality TV are want to do. I had mentioned earlier in the week that the only two reality TV shows that I'm watching that I'm not paid to view were American Idol and Making the Band 2. "I'm not ashamed to watch A. I. this year but MTB2 is terrible. That said, I can't look away," I had explained. 

"I watched part of Making the Band," she said later in the week, "and that one girl, Babs. Oh My God! You're right, that show is so ghetto." 

Now, I knew exactly what she meant. Outside of Ness, and Miss Stokes on occasion, these fools run around like they ain't got no sense. In the first episode, the men in the group all leave Babs at the venue while they run off with some groupies. Their manager, Jason, who at the start of the season looks early 20s but by the end of this tour will probably look 50 having to coral these fools, just wants the guys to apologize so that Babs can feel like people care about her but they aren't willing to do it. 

Not willing to apologize for some stupid shit is pretty ghetto. 

In the second episode, the band members split Dylaun's tour money because he refuses to leave New York claiming it's a probation violation (and we won't even talk about how ghetto that is) and what do we see them all doing? Going into clothing stores to buy throwback jerseys and visiting jewelers to get iced out. 

Ghetto ass motherfuckers. 

And finally, in the most recent episode, after Sara Stokes goes on some real diva shit for a minute, these negroids run around a park avenue apartment like it's the local miniature golf park jumping around and breaking shit. As Teck Money said to Ruthie, "We livin' in this beautiful house. It's beautiful! We gotta keep it nice. What if we have company?" But this person, this white person, says to me, "That show is so ghetto" and for the next 30 or so seconds my head is spinning like the carousels of a Vegas slot machine. She doesn't mean anything prejudicial by it, at least not specifically. I can't really disagree. Da Band is mad ghetto. But. But what?