4 Your Eyez Only

Nobody died around me lately. The city’s been heating up but my circle stays cool, mostly. It’s hard though, trying to do the right thing and stay out-of-the-way. I logged onto Facebook the other day, I know somebody who knew somebody that was killed. And another somebody who knew somebody did it. Both sides of the story, right in front of my eyez. One real nigga and one bitch nigga, depending on who you ask… the roles reverse. Both families, attempting to preserve their loved one’s legacy in the court of public opinion. In all actuality, the only thing that occurred was each post serving as an accelerant to the opposing side.

Mediators posting subliminal statuses about what may or may not have occurred. Speculation turned into acceptance and acceptance into anger/hatred. And I just watched. And would do the same again, if I had a 2nd chance. Why? Because I scrolled through the feed of the victim and the accused…

That confirmed the shit I learned in the streets was true
That real niggas don’t speak when they beef with you
They just pull up on your street, let the heat achoo
And if a real nigga hungry he gon’ eat your food

J Cole – 4 Your Eyez Only

One page, for months leading up to the events… full of fight reposts and “real nigga” status updates about “fucking other niggas bitches” amongst other things. The overwhelming insolence was but the buds of a more deeply rooted problem. Maybe he was a product of his environment or more likely, a victim of the circumstances within that environment.

The other page, as silent after the murder as before. Nothing but spam posts, for years leading up to what occurred. The dude definitely had the means to be more active on Facebook, yet he chose to separate. Right, wrong or indifferent he completely immersed himself and remained committed to the streets in every aspect. He was dedicated to the omerta lifestyle.

From what I’ve seen afterwards, I don’t see an end or resolution in sight. The people who’ve chosen certain paths, will lead to similar, unavoidable destinations. Their family members will speak of how great they were. The truth hidden amongst an intertwined web of grayish, mixed, black and white reality.  The cycle will continue to repeat itself. My only hope is, for our childrens’ sakes, myself & my homies can avoid being on either side.

See world, you’re no good.

Pinkies in the Air Drinkin Hennessy

I should’ve plotted out my major points, before writing this. But the fact that I didn’t, is essentially what this entire piece is about…

I find it difficult to relate to most of the writers/bloggers that get mainstream shine or even popular independent support online, on an educational level. Yet, in the same space, I aim to one day create content as influential as theirs. I don’t believe that my lack of a degree constitutes me being any less creative than them, it’s just a general perception thing. See, I went to a major university but only for a semester before I left. When I got there I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about what the future held. I was going to be involved in campus activities, I’d pledge Alpha after my freshman year and be involved with the young, black future leaders I was sure to be surrounded by. I wanted to be apart of something established and to have my voice heard…

But as I attempted to integrate my  former life & habits, into the jumbled, mix of events and occurrences that is college… the square peg never fit into the round hole. I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as those people who surely once had the same dreams and aspirations I did. College is probably the first place I saw major division within the community. Classmates, whose parents live on the same street and have been good friends for years, grow apart. The artistic kids go to open mics, the smart ones live in the library, the social ones join frats and sororities and the leftovers sort of drift. I was a drifter. I saw how the organizations and groups divided those who were once close, into splintered factions of special interests. The place I always dreamed of coming started to become less appealing and once the shine wore off, I left.

While everyone else was finishing up at university, I was out fucking up. Bullshitting at community college, selling mid grade for kush prices and smashing all the chicks that never even went to college. All the while unhappy, because I knew this wasn’t me or at least who I wanted to be… But I also wasn’t the pretentious, degree waving asshole my former classmates were growing into. I was in a tough spot. Was I being resentful and a hater? Or just marching to the beat of my own drum? What would I have become if I stayed in college?…

That question is irrelevant. Until H.G. Wells lists that time machine on Amazon, I’ll never know. But, what I’ve realized on my life journey, is that there is an untapped demographic. One that content rarely reflects the life of. The young black male, lacking a college education but works hard. He’s intelligent and aware as anyone else, but is constantly overlooked. He absorbs media, yet there is none reflective of his situation. All he sees is the cookie cutter image of what a “successful”, black male must have accomplished or look like. I hope to create content for the intelligent, black men (and women) who didn’t go to college. The ones that don’t own any tailored suits or polished Cole Haans, yet have interests and concerns no different from the Summa Cum Laude brothers. The true silent majority.

The thought within the “established” of the black community that says if you didn’t graduate college, your voice, thoughts and ideas are somehow inadequate, needs to die. And it will. God willing, I’ll deliver the fatal blow to those ideals myself.

Stop drinking Hennessy with your pinky in the air.

Thank you all for helping me realize my worth and find my voice. What you read is but a skeleton outline of what I hope to become & produce.