Word to the Masses: Black in the Box, Volume 3: Black on Black

Hotep,

December 21, 2k12 marks another positive milestone in my personal life. That’s right, the so-called expiration date of the Mayan calendar. The scheduled date to the end of all days was nothing short of a blessing for me. I mean, from the hours of 11am to 2:35pm EST, my mind was at ease, and the deepest part of my soul was on full display. A mere few hours of evading the daily turmoil and strife that surrounds me; a much welcome change of pace. Ya heard?

“Beautiful” is the word that best exemplifies this short but sweet escape from the racism that shackles my physical existence. The only way 12/21/2013 could’ve been any sweeter, was if this wall – that I’ve lived behind for nearly two decades – was no more than a blemish in my rearview mirror; a precursor sharing the holidays with my fam. Feel me?

The penitentiary environment has a unique was of eclipsing the warm feelings manifested by the holiday spirit. The hostility that chills the walls of this box is nothing more than a slight breeze blowing through the mane of a lion; it rarely shakes me. Na mean?

But, there are times when my days may feel like the storm of the century. The fact that I’m garbed with the love and support of people I’ve known all of my life, makes the chances of my heart being frost bitten, a non-issue.

The stories of my parents – well into their golden years – serving Meals on Wheels warms my heart the way a steamy cup of hot chocolate does my insides, on the coldest of days. The excitement in the voice of my Nyse when she speaks of receiving her Bachelor’s Degree, in Web Design, this coming spring fills me with 500 degrees of emotion; an explosion of happy feelings is inevitable.

Recently, I received the news that my home girl/editor Rochelle, has been named “Top Female Talent of Central, East and West Africa.” That’s what’s up!! I mean, our connection has been a gift that never loses its relevance. To know that she’s making a positive difference in the homeland of my ancestors is another example of the term “Black on Black,” not being linked to something negative. Keep doing what you do, Ma.

I’ve given three different connections, to me that reveal, “Black on Black,” as a term of endearment. Now, prepare yourselves for the sudden drop in temperature as I share the sub-zero effects of “Black on Black,” within a penitentiary setting, so button up.

If there’s one thing the history of American slavery has taught us; it’s the psychological impact of self-hate-indoctrinated by slave masters – has a congenital effect. From our ancestors, to today’s newborns, it was the strategy of the slave master to play one black against another.

You see, race can be a factor when a C.O. has a grave dislike for a prisoner; even if the prisoner and the C.O. are both African-Americans. I’ve witnessed black C.O.’s insight confrontations involving black prisoners, while in the safety of their control station, as a means of settling a grudge with another African-American. SMH.

Inside of the box, the C.O. is the authority figure. This particular brand of insidious contempt (in-house racism) is the primary reason why assaults and murders are taking place in prisons, across the U.S.

So, to this type of C.O., that’s yakking it up with his buddies over a cold beer about his chess moves at work, The aphorism: “Everything ain’t always black and white,” holds true. Sometimes its simply, “Black on Black.” Word is bond!!

Doing What I Do,

MannofStat