The start of another semester. I must say, part of me is very excited because I've done nothing but sit on this ever spreading ass of mines for the last month.
It's so interesting to watch my insecurities hard at work in my life. I am constantly reflecting on what Ms. Celie said about Shug: "People don't like nobody too proud, or too free." So I am constantly battling in between being 'chill' Eris or the outrageous Eris that I always am. I am never sure if I am being authentic. In the end...I am who I am. I love to talk about food, love, music, and sex. Everything about me is always too much or not enough. I'm not sure how to create a healthy medium. But...whatever.
So...in the mistd of my infirmity I am awake in between large doses of NyQuil. I left the television on as I always do, and this time when I woke up, I awakened to the sound of black debate. Weird right? Right. It was the "Our World" show by Black Enterprise hosted by Ed Gordon. Their topic was on black education. Needless to say, I walked away from the show not gaining much because they were all yelling and screaming, and at the end there was no tangible solution to the african-american education problem. So me...being the person I am, had to write into the show! This is what I wrote:
I am a 23 year old college student from Cleveland Ohio, and this morning was the first time I caught your show. I think that this show's concept is excellent. But with a lot of the debates on black issues my consistent complaint is the lack of black youth available to voice their opinions.
So often we as young black people get put into the box of "reckless, careless, individuals that need to be protected" When it comes to education issues, or any issues, why not engage the young black voice? When it comes to civil and social issues of today, why not the young black voice? We live in a day where the revolution could be televised but we have our elders who are too afraid to let go and let the youth fend for themselves on these issues.
Sharpton, Jackson, and all of these other leaders are from a different generation. The fact of the matter is, is that marches are no longer effective. Yelling and screaming on TV is no longer effective. The revolution of the young black man and woman is going to have to be more streamlined. And every time I watch a show on the topic of education and on civil rights I get disheartened because the elders of our community feel the same way that the over riding majority of our country feel about black people: You all feel like we are incapable of effecting change, when in actuality, change is being made as we speak.
My initial reason for writing was to say that I think it’s a shame that this show airs in Cleveland at five in the morning, but now that I have been exposed to it, I will be setting my alarm so I can watch it. I wish your show can switch slots with Flava of Love & I Love New York. Now…there’s a conversation to have.
So yeah, hopefully they will get in contact with more young idealists who are making the changes that need to be made. I feel like the biggest problem we have is thinking that we can save the entire black race. This is (I can't believe I'm quoting Master P) Captain Kirk syndrome: "Don't save her...she don't wanna be saved." Everybody doesn't want to be saved from themselves. So what has to be done is locate those "Mustard Seeds" of hope and faith and work on cultivating them.
Peace People. I leave you with my Mustard Seeds Poem.
Mustard Seeds
I remember a time
When we wanted to be doctors
Living in the year 2000
I thought we would be further
Living like the Jetson’s
Flying to galaxies above
But we’re stuck
I remember a time when…
My first pony was a commercial
Of things we couldn't get
Domino rally, Barbie and Ken
We went outside to play…
Any bounce vs. whiffle ball
Big wheels with the handles that slid off
(Rolling down the street on my big wheel sippin’ on orange juice…)
Now kids want to be rappers
and drug dealers
Videos hoes turned strippers
And I have to turn the TV off
Sit in my corner and cry
Cause no matter how hard I try
When I look into a kid’s eyes
I see the burdens of the world
We don’t cry for the little girls
Who’ve been molested
We don’t cry for the little boys
Who will never make it
beyond their block
When will the buck stop?
We lack the grandma’s
That instilled the fear of Jesus
The grand dads to watch wrestling with
My God don’t we miss the switch…
The ones we had to pick on our own
The mama that makes us
get of the phone
During a rainstorm
Hoping her new boyfriend was
The father you prayed for
We all wanted to be so much more
We all wanted to live long enough
Just to play house,
But instead we play the lottery
Dishing out so much money that
If we actually win
We’re just winning a fraction
Of the money we already spent
Living just enough for the city
Surviving for the first
And the fifteenth of the month
And if we can’t make it
We check into cash
And it’s not until someone dies
That we realize that life moves fast
I’m so glad
That my mother told me
To do what I know is right to do
Struggle to be more
Stay in school
Be more than what I could fathom
But kids today can’t handle
Being pushed forward so fast
That they end up being left behind
No child right?
This poem is for the children
That still dream at night
And see rainbows on my eyelashes
In the sunlight
For the children that will grow up
Seeking the revolution
To be part of the solution
Versus part of the issue
You…
My little ones
Are the mustard seeds
That keeps me alive.
©Eris Zion Venia Dyson All Rights Reserved
