Citizenship Homelessness

I grew up everywhere but nowhere. I can divide my youth into thirds. The first third of my school years were spent in University City, a middle class suburb of St. Louis, where Mr. Rice who lived on the corner taught every kid on the block how to ride a bike and led weekly neighborhood rides in the summer. The second third of my life was spent touring East St. Louis and making friend on my bike and the third division was spent ironically back in University City three blocks away from where I lived before. Before graduating from High School I lived in eight different houses and attended seven schools. In reflecting on this experience, I am sure that not only did I suffer socially and academically from this nomadic lifestyle but the communities themselves were cheated as a result of our transience. Living everywhere but nowhere creates a type of Citizenship Homelessness. I belonged to no place and no place belonged to be.
Communities are living ecosystems. For every community resource that is consumed, it has to be replaced to maintain a balanced system. It’s like the first rule of living in the wilderness “take only what you need and live only footprints. However, in the healthiest communities, the members moderately take what is needed and give back generously. Unlike nature, communities need its members to regenerate that which was consumed. In my family’s coming and going we took from several communities and never really gave back to those communities.
Apparently, we were not the only family practicing this irresponsible behavior. Often my brother and I will drive though the old neighborhoods where we lived. Sadly, they are desolate places with scarce populations, barely surviving off a bankrupt community. In the worst case, most the businesses have closed. Where there were once houses, there are now trailer homes scattered about; and where there are houses, it’s hard to tell which ones are inhabited and which one are condemned. Under these conditions, it is no surprise that schools would be underfunded and jobs would be in short supply. Thus there is a perpetuation of poverty and neglect. This is a common place in black urban America.
It is clear that few young people in urban areas feel connected or responsible for the places where they live. Even dogs understand that you don’t poop where you sleep. Yet our kids deface trash, destroy, and yes sometimes piss right on streets the rights where they live. These are clear signs that there is no ownership or value for the black community.
In my mind, we must reinvest in the value of our communities, if they are to survive. To create this value, the very people who have benefited from it must reinvest in it. I am a proponent of volunteering and mentoring. However, I would not consider what Mr. Rice did for us volunteering. We need to be a part of the black community to benefit it. It depends on us on a daily basis to be there; to been seen, to be heard, to be present role models and to be examples of staying back to build up. Communities need the people who have benefited from it, to give back to it in a real way.

Wanted: Generational Icon

It seems that every generation has a person who embodies the highest values, thoughts and ideals of its culture. Three generations ago, my grandparents’ generation, it’s was FDR, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He was more than a president. This man was the true embodiment of Americanism. He was strong in tough times. He was good to our friends and tough on our enemies. He united us at a very divided time. Then there was MLK, Martin Luther King, an international trademark for humanity. Not only did he voice the hopes and dreams of Blacks, but he represented the highest ideals of the world. He forced us to answer the question, “can we deliver on the promises of justice and equality.” His life and untimely death brought the world face to face with our need to fulfill our highest potential.

This past week we lost MJ, Michael Jackson, not only what some consider, the greatest performer of all time, but maybe the best icon for my generations highest values. Although couched in dance moves and passionate melodies, our generation’s highest values were etched in every aspect of Michael’s life. As a “Gen X’er”, I know that we have benefited from relative peace and harmony in the world. Not to be confused with the current generations “war on everybody”, my generation was one of peace and innovation. Ours was a generation dedicated to creativity and invention. My generation gave computers and rap music to the world. Michael was the embodiment of this creativity. When he performed, we waited to see him do the impossible. We stayed up late on Fridays to see the newest Michael Jackson video; because we knew something transformative was going to happen. All weekend we would watch Billy Jean, or Beat It or Thriller, only to practice our moves for the impromptu dance competition on Monday morning.

What Michael did for us went far beyond entertainment. His songs, videos, and performances were our statement of purpose. Michael Jackson spoke on my behalf to the world. Telling everyone that through passion and creativity we can heal the world.

FDR, MLK and MJ surrendered a potion of themselves to take on the highest character of their generations. Somebody, somewhere, in the not so distant future is counting on you to do exactly what you were designed to do. We need you to live passionately aware of the need for a generational icon.

Treated like a Bootlegger at the B.I.G. Movie

NOTORIOUS B.I.G. Preview Engagement
was an insult to decent people.

It is a well know fact that the movie industry is losing a lot of money because of "bootleggers." "Bootlegging" is a term used to describe the unlawful distribution of copy written material. This term has been used most recently to describe the illegal recording and distribution of movies. Well, It seems that because of the bootleggers, we are all destined to be treated like criminals at the movie theaters.

On Thursday of last week, I went to the pre-screening of NOTORIOUS, the new movie bringing the life of Christopher Wallace, aka rapper B.I.G., aka Biggie Smalls, aka Notorius BIG, to the Big Screen. I was surprised to find that the preview engagement included several openning activites. These activities included music, prize give-aways, several local radio personalities, local celebrity personalities, and a live performance by a local rapper, accompanied by scantily clad dancers. He performed his hit song, "Dunk Dat Butt." But the most surprising event of the evening was the strip search at the door.

That's Right! Every movie goer on this night was subjected to a pat-down and metal detection. I couldn't believe it. My first instinct was to take my popcorn and run for cover. I knew the hip hop world had grown violent but damn! Were they expecting an East Coast West Coast shoot out in the theater?

My 60 minute wait to enter the theater came to an end as I approached the armed guard. "No cell phones are allowed in the movie theater." What the hell? "Anyone with a cell phone will have to leave it on the table or take it out to your car."

It turns out that as a precaution to criminal video taping, the theaters are now preventing watchers from taking in any devices that could be use to record the movie. On a six foot table at the entrance to the theater lay piles of cell phones and gadgets, suspected as tools of the bootlegger. My Treo 755 smartphone and I are very good friends. Actually, until I can afford a secretary, my phone has served as my assistant who handles all of my business. Therefore, I naturally opposed the ridiculous request. I assured the security officer that I was not a bootlegger and I needed to retain my cell phone. He replied in a loud voice for everyone to hear, "If you have a device that lights up during the movie you will be asked to leave or be charged and arrested."

At that moment, I was ready to leave, but the people I had come with had already surrendered their devices and entered the theatre. Reluctantly, I turned over my beloved assistant to these strangers, who tagged her with a cheap ticket and placed her in the pile. I turned and walked into the chaos on the otherside of the door.

Last Thursday, I not only left my phone on that table, but I left my right to be innocent until proven guilty on that table. I left my deginity and respect on that table. Moreover, the thought that the crowd on this night was filled with mostly black faces left me to question, "is this going to be the norm in all theaters?" Is this what we can come to expect on a date night? First the airport and now the movie theater. Maybe, I''m getting old but I just don't think its right to pat down an old lady at the airport or take a man's phone at the movie theater. But one thing is for sure, last Thursday night we were all treated like bootleggers and I went along with it.