Shake The Dust

I know this may anger many people, but it's something I felt the need to get off of my chest.

Last week marked the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech, which has since been dubbed one of the greatest pieces of rhetoric from the 20th century. And, although many black people will blow up social media today with praise and accolations for this moment in history, I can't help but feel even more disappointed than I already am in my fellow African Americans. Let me explain...

MLK envisioned an America in which all races were treated equally, where you weren't discriminated against because your skin tone was a tad bit darker than the person next to you. And our ancestors fought for acceptance, and they won it (to a degree), and subsequent generations of blacks are actively pursuing to ruin any forward progress that was made.

My ancestors were slaves, humans that were treated like wild animals. Caged, whipped, fed scraps off the dinner plates. Fortunately, you can't buy or sell a man's desire, his intestinal fortitude... his strength to endure. And although they were often physically weak, they stayed strong within. They learned to read, they learned proper grammar and syntax, and they learned their rights as human beings. They, to paraphrase Langston Hughes, learned that they too were America.

And as generations passed, so did that strength, that desire to be equal. But somewhere along the way, blacks began to settle... the most dangerous thing you can ever do in life. Because we felt we were "legally" equal, we felt that we were "socially" equal.

This wasn't as apparent when my grandparents were around. Although I was never lucky enough to meet them, the stories people have told me about them made them sound like demigods. Hard workers who didn't make excuses and didn't look for handouts. They carried themselves with pride and expected their offspring too as well... they appeared as they expected to be received. They didn't expect handouts, if they needed more, they worked extra. If the country that had given them freedom needed help, they volunteered without hesitation.

But somewhere along the way, America began to become pussified. Somewhere along the way, blacks began losing all respect for themselves. And now, for some reason, few blacks actually represent the colored American MLK was so passionate about helping to create.

It's sad to know that when I go to a restaurant, a server will automatically expect a shitty tip because of my skin color. What's even worse is that when I open my mouth, they'll be shocked to not hear ebonic-ridden speech.

Is this what my ancestors fought for? For someone who realized their dream and is living it to be considered an exception?

Did they want their children to kill each other over a pair of expensive sneakers? Did they want their children to start sagging their jeans below their ass as if they were in prison, constantly pulling them off the ground opposed to wearing a belt? Did they want their children to spend thousands of dollars on gold chains even though they can't put food on the table for their families? Did they want their children tossing around the word nigga in common talk as if its really any different than the word nigger?

Far too often people make the mistake of thinking that where they start is where they are stuck. Freedom means there are no shackles holding you down... it means if you stay somewhere and refuse to progress, it's only your own damn fault. 

I hope too that someday we will be judged by the content of our character and not be the color of our skin. Sadly, I understand why that may never happen in my lifetime. Until then, I can only hope more black people continue to challenge the status quo. Having respect for yourself and defying expectations is not "acting white" as many people may tell you. Success and progress know no limits, nor qualifications. No matter your race or gender, your creed or your sexuality, America is open to what we make it.