Sound is Inspiration

Hotep,

Advanced technology makes traditional telephone communication seem primitive, like using a sundial to tell time, or dipping a quill into ink for the purpose of writing a scribe.  

The deaths of my beloved Aunt Mary, Nana and most recently Aunt Lena have been cause for the prison administration to “grant” me a single phone call to my immediate fam.  Other than that, the administration’s “generosity” for phone calls is limited to one visually monitored call every December.

My personal boycott of the prison’s annual holiday scam began December 2013.  I wholeheartedly refused to continue exposing my people to this establishment’s outlandish long distance service.  Ridiculous rates, designed to sever familial ties within the sum of 10 measly minutes.

The yearning to hear the voices of my parents during the holiday season, made the sacrifice feel like I was tiptoeing through a quagmire of desolation.  At times, I had to question my motives for abstaining from the pleasantries of their holiday cheer: “Is this my way of letting go?  Have I finally accepted this existence?” As you can see, this was a rough stretch for me.  SMH.

The struggle continues, yet the odds have tilted in the favor of the Underdog.  In April 2015, Vanderbilt University Divinity School hosted the REVISIONING JUSTICE CONFERENCE.  Our phone crisis was discussed and greatly frowned upon.  

We then submitted petitions – signed by condemned men – and sent to the street for the “FREE WORLD” to catch, process, then act on the state’s display of denying condemned prisoners, who are under appeal, the right to have regular telecommunication with our appellant attorneys.

By August 2015, the majestic sounds of legendary speaker and phenomenal legal mind, Bryan Stevenson, stood before us – delivering a powerful message.  He strongly encouraged the writers of “the row” to continue pushing our pens because proximity breeds awareness; a sound that drew a standing ovation, while unifying our sights on a change that would bring us closer to our loved ones.  Feel me?

Along came December 18, 2015.  The performance of SERVING LIFE broke new ground.  I felt these cold walls of covert injustice crumble when my character (PHILLY) warmed the hearts of the audience with this line, “The worst is when you want to tell someone you love about something, and you can’t.  You got one ten-minute phone call a year.” Man, I swear! That was one of the most liberating moments of my life.  Word is bond!

Three short months later, those same words left hundreds of people stunned and outraged when the monologues that makes up SERVING LIFE were performed at U.N.C. Chapel Hill’s Genome Sciences Building; a conference titled, RACE, INNOCENCE, and the END of the DEATH PENALTY.  

It was a blessing to have my parents attend such an event, and I don’t mind telling you; the sounds of their enthusiasm during the following visit, reaffirmed that our position of protest had grown legs, and was methodically beginning to stand firm.

On June 7, 2016, the sound of a dial tone – that may have been annoying at some time in our lives – inspires the men of death row to purchase phone minutes at the rate of 10 cents per.  The sounds rumbling from the cellblocks, rec yard, and corridors that make up Unit 3 (death row), no longer exudes despair.  

I am now captivated by the sounds of Moms feeling refreshed after her “silver sneakers” workouts, and Pops handling business down at the state building.  Real talk.

I have been floored by the sound of my son handling L.A. traffic on the 110.  And then, the very next morning listening to him wake up my beautiful grandseeds for another day of school.  Their sleepy tones may as well have been bullhorns in my ears, because both of them told me they loved me.  SMH. You should have seen me attempting to maintain my composure at that phone.  If concrete could melt like ice cream; this Mann was it.  G-Dad loves you too. Lil’ Manns.

Then there is the sound of my Queen saying, “good morning” or “good night.” Listening to her travel the Ben Franklin Bridge; arriving home and inspecting her mailbox – only to find a scribe from her Mann – is the sweet addiction that encourages me to continue creating expressions for the benefit of positive change.  Having the inspiring sounds of my peoples back in my ear makes the last 2 tumultuous decades feel like I’ve gone from a Euro to a hundred in a matter of minutes.  Holla if ya hear me.

Still Livin,’

MannofStat

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Gallows of Skepticism

I have no problem admitting that I tend to be skeptical whenever a group dynamic is presented, and I am invited to partake.  I guess this would be considered my defense mechanism to impede the potential distractions that collide with the theory of interdependence.  

North Philly is the urban subculture that taught me the difference between “Bullshitters” (actors), and those who can smell their stench (perceivers) a mile away.  I consider myself one of the latter.

From 1991-1994, I was a respected MC in the underground hip-hop circuit.  DOC TERRA (me) was one third of a three-man crew known as the CONCRETE CHILDREN.  Our independent label was call, Products of the Urban Streets (P.O.T.U.S.).  We promoted this label by selling t-shirts, posting fliers, and “rockin’ the mic” from North Philly to Brooklyn, NY.

We once shared the same stage with the Notorious B.I.G. and Mic Geronimo.  We were on our way.  So close to a recording deal, but individual interests began to conflict with the mutual understanding of achieving success as a collective unit.

Approximately one year prior to everything falling apart, my instincts told me that individualism would sink our music careers into the depths of chasing the unattainable dream.  A single person’s selfish actions changed the course of three lives.  Now, none of us have a record deal, only the memories of the best thing that never happened; a cautionary tale.

When I first came to this class, I saw my current circumstance to be very similar to my days as a member of the CONCRETE CHILDREN.  The furtherance of programs made available to death row prisoners will require a collective effort to defeat the stigma of being “the worst of the worst.” This alliance is not necessarily synonymous with friendships, however it is the embodiment of the interdependence theory, and has no room for the prior scars stemming from group association.

I can only hope that my optimism for the best outcome – concerning these programs – is not a direct result of the endowment effect.  I take great pride in my capabilities to facilitate; therefore I have a tendency to see beyond what is expected.  For me, commitment is synonymous with success.  But, at the end of the day, the “actors” still play a part in this equation.

Someone once told me,

“no matter what the circumstance, the cream

will always rise to the top.”

I conclude with this:

My skepticism instinctively hangs another individual’s character, but I could just as easily be hanging myself by allowing the taint of incredulousness to detach me from productive communal functions.

Keeping it 100,

MannofStat

Copyright (c) 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Capital Entertainment: the cognitive dissonance of humanity

A man promulgates his firm position on pro-life, yet he chooses to murder a doctor for performing abortions.

A person who professes Christianity is deeply opposed to the practices of justice in Middle Eastern countries – where Muslims are the vast majority.  However, they will quote scripture from the Bible – hissing, “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand, and a foot for a foot,” Exodus 21:24, in support of capital punishment on American soil.

Life seems to be a merry-go-round of hypocrisy for the human species.  Theoretically, we stand at the top of the social animal food chain.  Does this give us the authority to encage, domesticate and showcase other social animals that we deem as inferior?

A little while ago, the legendary Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus announced that they

would retire elephants from the center ring of “entertainment.”

This entails a residential upgrade to a 200-acre “conservation” enclosure, which is owned by the same ringmasters of death defying feats, human paradox of conserving life as a form of entertainment.

For years, animal rights activists have made it their business to speak on behalf of the voiceless pachyderm.  The brutality and mistreatment of these fellow mammals leads one to believe that social animal hierarchy is a direct contrast to moral principle.  Just how far would we go for the sake of “entertainment?”

When these enormous, majestic mammals stand on their hind legs, or perfect a pirouette without the slightest hint of dizziness, we humans convince ourselves the elephants enjoy our manmade spotlight.  When all the while, the elephant is simply replaying a nightmarish reality - over and over again – in its head.

Decades and billions worth of revenue dollars later, the ringmasters decide to exercise humanity by “retiring” the ever-so-grateful elephants.  Well, what about the tigers, bears and show ponies?  The price of “entertainment” is extremely costly for any animal under the human umbrella of THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.

Disturbingly enough, the capital punishment discussion bears a similar tone.  Many death row sympathizers are under the impression that North Carolina’s 10-year de facto moratorium favors the prisoners whose lives are being held in abeyance.  

Some might even argue that this is humanity coming to the forefront.  Maybe this would hold true if that degree of humanity did not hold a sentence of life without the possibility of parole over the heads of the many mammals residing here that have fallen prey to injustice.

Capital punishment is a form of “entertainment” where humans kill other humans after a prolonged showcase of litigable grandstanding.  It is a circus of justice that makes a mockery of the “ringmasters” who choose to believe their business of death dealing is an appropriate display of social supremacy.

Much like the elephants, death row prisoners will always have their fair share of support from

humanitarians, but how many lifetimes away are we from seeing the cognitive dissonance of considering ourselves as the socially dominant species?

MannofStat

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann