Happy 83rd Birthday Reverend Wright!!!

Happy 83rd Birthday Reverend Wright!

September 22, 1941

Over the years I have called myself a Jeremiah Wright groupie. If he was preaching at a church that I was anywhere near, I was sure to be there.

I have always been so inspired by his words of Black liberation, Black empowerment mentally and economically, Black governance and Black self-determination. He exudes confidence and wisdom. It is impossible to attend his sermon and not walk away a bit wiser because of it. Thank you Reverend Wright...

The Good Reverend is unapologetically proud. He is unapologetically Black. He is unapologetically committed to lifting Black people and our community. I just love me some him...

One of the first considerations for me to support Barack Obama was the fact that he was a member of Jeremiah Wright's Church. I knew, that he knew... So did others, which lead to Reverend Wright being on the outside looking in during Obama's administrations. That is unprecedented for any other president. Of course, their spiritual or faith leader is an intricate part of their inner political circle. They provide that place of calm and guidance that helps to give balance or anchor a POTUS in a very trying and stressful environment. It is unfortunate that such was not the case for Reverend Wright. Shame on the Obamas for not correcting whatever caused the riff, the details of which I do not claim to know. But what I do know, because Barack said it, is that Reverend Wright introduced him to his faith. If I'm not mistaken, he called him something akin to his spiritual Father. Reverend Wright and his lovely wife Michelle, both gave candidate Obama credence and acceptance in the Black community as a viable presidential prospect. Reverend Wright is up in age. President, Spiritual son, etc., needs to fix it...

There is such an interesting story behind this picture of Reverend Wright and me. I was at the first inaugural weekend for President Obama. Every year for Martin Luther King weekend, Reverend Wright is the special guest preacher at Howard University's Sunday service. This holiday weekend just happened to fall in line with the inauguration. Of course I was there to hear him preach, I'm a self proclaimed groupie and a Howard University alumna. I was there early to get what was surely a coveted seat.

This photo was taken as we were lined up to exit and show love for our good Brother and thank him for his "word". As you can see in the picture, he loves us back. As I was exiting the line, a young man walked up to me and told me that he had just gotten a really good picture of Reverend Wright and me and that If I had a business card, he would send it to me. Of course I thought nothing of his request. Fortunately I happened to have a business card, which I gave to him. I gave our exchange not another thought and went on with my lovely day of celebration.

The next morning my phone is ringing off the hook. I think Dean Barron Harvey was the first to call to tell me that "I'd done it again". To which I said, did what again. He said, "you're in the newspaper with Jeremiah Wright". The young man who asked for my business card turned out to be a photographer for the Washington Post. My picture was featured in the paper along with others marking the historical day. That was really exciting and such a nice way to forever memorialize the respect, adoration, and "groupie love" I have for this really positive, proud, and inspirational Black man who just happens to be a Great Preacher.

Happy Birthday Reverend Wright!!!

Note: Oops! Failed to post yesterday, September 22

A Walk Down Memory Lane, Inspired by Frankie Beverly

Miss Higgi & Frankie Beverly

St. Maarten, Memorial Day Weekend, 1995!

Sinbad's 70's Soul Music Festival. It was the best and most soulful vacation ever! Mature Black folks, between the ages of mid 30's to maybe late 50's, from major cities around the country, heeded Sinbad's call to board private planes, fly to St. Maarten where we converged on the island for 5 solid days of funk and celebration of the 70s, in music, in dress, and in spirit! We enjoyed concerts by night and beach parties by day. 

The parties actually began aboard the planes. Music was blasting, drinks were flowing, folks were cuttin' up like families reuniting, because that's what we do. We were having a good time even before we landed. By the time we arrived, everybody knew who was going to be their vacation crew. I was living in DC at the time so I was a part of that crowd. It was great! 

In planning for the trip, I purposely reached back into my past to invite someone to join me with whom I had actually partied in the '70s. I invited my college Sistah Friend, Gilda Cooper, nee Hawkins, who I had not seen in many years. It was just an all-around reunion with music, with friends, with nostalgia, in the hot sun on a beautiful island with perfect weather, beautiful beaches, and lots, and lots of Beautiful Black people. Sheer paradise. 

I booked a lesser expensive package thinking that we were not going to stay in the room anyway. How bad could it be? Well, little did I know... When our shuttle, filled with other passengers from various planes, arrived to our respective housing locations, many of which were small hotels/motels or private homes, and this is long before Airbnb, Black folks were greeting us telling us not to let the shuttle leave because we were not going to like our rooms. LOL! We're so special... 

We didn't like our room and that shuttle wasn't about to leave us! Back then there was no cell phone to call a taxi or to flag a not yet even imagined, Uber. Those shuttles were not getting away. We piled back in and the drivers dumped us back at the host hotel where Sinbad was in the lobby doing his very best to sort this housing debacle. He had left this part of planning the event to a travel company that seemingly didn't do such a good job at vetting the housing. This festival was happening in his name. It was his brand, formerly known as his reputation, at stake and he genuinely wanted everybody to have a really great time. 

Gilda and I, who remember, had purchased one of the cheaper packages, ended up staying in the host hotel for not a dime more! It doesn't get better than that. So, we definitely were in the mix with the celebrities who were obviously staying at the same hotel. It was great! Understandably it was taking Sinbad a while to negotiate these unexpected changes for his unhappy "guests". Gilda, who was obviously still spoiled (LOL), threw a hissy fit and almost blew the deal for us. Sinbad looked at me and said you better control your friend. I told her, you need to be quiet so that we can get this room. It was crazy but we got a great room with a balcony and all (there's a balcony story to be told at another time)! I don't recall the name of the hotel. I think it was something like Maho. It got destroyed in a hurricane the next year. 

Sinbad's vision was to relive music from the '70s. Already, back then, we were missing real music. It has only gotten worse over time. We are a talented people who seem to have lost our way musically. I digress...  

All sorts of celebrities responded to Sinbad's call to help create his dream vacation for all of us. Frankie Beverly, whose death, sadly announced earlier today, triggered this walk down Memory Lane, was but one of many celebrities performing at the festival. The talent line up was incredible, and I still have the t-shirt to prove it! 

The t-shirt!

The O'Jays, Ms. Gladys, Teena Marie, EWF, Ohio Players, WAR, AWB, Confunkshun, Al Green, who folks booed because he was now Reverend Al Green and didn't want to sing his secular lyrics. He would just be quiet and let the music play and not say the words. People were wanting him off the stage. LOL! As I recall the Commodores and Stephanie Mills were there also. I might be confusing 1995 with the next year in Jamaica but were there all kinds of celebrities supporting the festival. Not everybody was performing. I remember Isaac Hayes being there and Ms. Angela Bassett groovin' with the peeps in the crowd. She hadn't exhaled yet! The celebrities were cool performing by night and hanging out with the regular folks by day. 

Everyday there was a party on a different beach. I will never forget Orient Beach. It is a clothing optional beach, meaning you don't have to take off your clothes, but you didn't have to keep them on either... Well, when we started showing up in mass numbers, little by little, white folks were getting off of that beach, which was good because we wanted their beach chairs. I think some fearful that Mandingo was going to whip it out at any minute mesmerizing their wives and daughters. LOL! There they were just chilling on the beach, they looked up and out of nowhere came all these Black people, with a DJ in tow spinning the records from big loud speakers, Black folks dancing and electric sliding in the water. Nobody took their clothes off. A few women took off their tops. There was some men in the water waving their shorts over their heads but never exposing themselves. In short, there were no Mandingo moments. LOL! It was just a great day at the beach. 

Every day was filled with absolute Black joy. Of course there was breakfast in the morning, exercise with Donna Richardson, who had not yet married Tom Joyner, who was also at this event, we then piled on buses to go to whatever was the designated beach for that day to have nothing but a party! Food grilling, music playing, a little bit of weed smoking, of course people were drinking. It was just pure adult fun, no fuss, no muss, just Black people lovin' each other. It was beautiful. 

After the beach party we would head back to the hotel and change for the concerts, which were recorded and aired on HBO at a later date. After the concert, we would hang out at the club til' some crazy hour in the morning, MAYBE get a nap, because it sure wasn't sleep, get up the next day, which was actually later the same day, and do it all over again. It was non-stop fun! I recall barely sleeping and mostly forgetting to eat. It was just a great time for everyone. Mission accomplished Sinbad. It is truly one of my fondest travel memories. 

So how did I "meet" Frankie? He was minding his business having dinner in a restaurant when I saw him. I probably screeched like a crazy fan before I said, "Oh Frankie I hate to bother you". To which he said, "Come on, sit on down" I'm sure he called me Suga', or Baby, or something like that. LOL! Of course he didn't have to ask twice, I sat on down. And then, as any silly 35-year-old star struck woman truly infatuated with this sexy man would say, I said, with glazed eyes and all 32 pearly whites on full display I'm sure, "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?" (something goofy like that)? Yes, I really said that. He just laughed because of course he'd heard it all his life! He was so gracious and posed for the above picture with me. I don't know where Gilda was. I was hanging out with Scarla, a woman from MD, who I met on the DC party plane. She took my picture with Frankie, with a real camera, a 35 MM. Do you remember those? There were no cell phones back then. We actually had to wait for the photo to be developed and pray that it came out good. There were no do-overs. Scarla also got a picture with Frankie Beverly that night. It was pure magic. 

Another Frankie moment occurred at some other of his concerts I attended. He threw his bottled water into the crowd, or did he hand it right to me? LOL! I kept that 1/2 bottle of water for the longest time because he had actually drunk from the bottle before he screwed the cap back on and tossed it to the crowd, I mean, tossed it to me in the crowd. I swear it is only in very recent years that I actually got rid of that bottle. Creepy right? I agree. I was just a HUGE Frankie fan. 

My first Frankie concert was high school graduation 1978, Ohio. It was a gift from my cousin Carolyn. For many years after that, rarely a summer went by that I didn't don an all-white outfit and make it my business to see Frankie perform somewhere. Not to mention, there has been many a road trip where Frankie and I performed in concert together as I drove to the sound of his music blasting from my car speakers. In later years when his voice gave out and he couldn't reach the notes, it didn't matter. Loyal fans at his still sold-out concerts, took over and sang the words for him. He was adored by us, and he loved his people. He never crossed over. I am sure many folks not of our community have no idea who he is and how deep this loss is for us. I can't believe I was not intentional about making his farewell tour. I have a CDs, records, t-shirts, pictures and great memories to sustain me. He will truly, truly be missed...

The More Things "Change"

So you guys know that they stripped Ms. Chiles of her medal. Ironically, or not so ironically, it happens after the infamous photo of two Black women bowing to another, which got millions of views and gave significant pride and joy to many Black folks seeing Black Women celebrating, not competing with, one another, that they make this decision to reverse themselves from an error they still own but have the audacity to blame the reversal on some 4-second rule. Give me a break! 

Also don't lose sight of the fact that we had white woman, Mykayla Skinner, weaponizing her tears against her former teammates when she publicly criticized that her teammates were lazy, undisciplined, or not focused, despite their winning gold medals WITHOUT her! 

Don't get it twisted, this action of taking back the medal is a repeat of the backlash in 1968 received by Tommy Smith and John Carlos, when the Olympic officials and the United States could not stand their display of Black pride and activism they demonstrated for the world to see. Did you miss the similarity? Don't be fooled. Racism is as strong today as it was in the '60s... 

Insecure others are still intimidated by Black pride. Our self worth must be sanctioned by them or it will be destroyed by them by any means necessary. 

Shame on the Olympics once again! In 56 years it seems they have learned absolutely nothing! Still, I bow to my little Sistahs, each and everyone of them AND our Brothas, who showed up at the Olympics and represented! We see and we love you!!! 

👊🏾❤️🖤💚👊🏾

https://www.nytimes.com/athletic/5693972/2024/08/11/jordan-chiles-bronze-medal-olympics-ioc-reallocate/

The Black Mother

Where can I find love that never changes

Smiles that are true and always just the same,
Caring not how the fierce tempest rages,
Willing ever to shield my honored name?

This I find at home, only with Mother,
Who cares for me with patient tenderness;
She from every human pain would rather
Save me, and drink the dregs of bitterness.

If on life's way I happen to flounder,
My true thoughts should be of Mother dear,
She is the rock that ne'er rifts asunder,
The cry of her child, be it far or near.

This is love wonderful beyond compare;
It is God's choicest gift to mortal man;
You, who know Mother, in this thought must share,
For, she, of all, is Angel of your Clan.

My Mother is Black, loveliest of all;
Yes, she is as pure as the new made morn;
Her song of glee is a clear rythmic call
To these arms of love to which I was born.

I shall never forget you, sweet Mother,
Where'er in life I may happen to roam;
Thou shalt always be the Fairy Charmer
To turn my dearest thoughts to things at home.

Marcus Mosiah Garvey

Celebrating Black Mothers especially and All Who Know Her Love...
~ Miss Higgi

The Juice Is Dead

 Note: I wrote this on the day of OJs death. I got distracted and never proofed or posted it... 

The Juice is dead! 

For you young people, "Juice" is what they used to call OJ Simpson. 

I will never forget where I was when the news broke that he was acquitted by a majority Black and female jury for murdering his white wife. I was having lunch with colleagues at TGIF in Greenbelt, Maryland. There were five or six of us, 50/50 Black and white.

Over the years, I have described the scene as like being at a funeral and a wedding at the same time. Black folks were jumping for joy and cheering loudly, not for OJ, but for what felt like a taste of justice. White folks were sobbing and jeering, for what presumably, felt like a denial of justice, a response completely foreign to them in a legal matter such as this.

For Black folks, finally, the criminal "justice" system, rigged and used against us, had worked in our favor. 

So often in America, Black defendants enter a courtroom where the prosecutor gets up to bat and already is on third base. S/he need only punt the ball for a homerun conviction. That didn't happen in this case and white America is still angry...

The white patrons on that day at TGIF were visibly shaken, shocked to their core, and quite angered by our elation. Some were even crying as they paid their bill and got the hell out of there! 

The remainder of lunch with my colleagues was awkward as we struggled to suppress our emotions of joy or anger out of courtesy and professional respect for one another. 

I will never forget my exchange with Dennis, a white male colleague and lunch partner that day. He was mad at me and probably never really liked me after that afternoon. He couldn't believe I was so happy as he had heard me speculate that OJ might have done it. I wasn't yet an attorney, but still, I understood enough to explain to him that it wasn't about OJ or what I thought, it was about a crooked criminal justice system that unjustly or unfairly convicts Black men everyday. I told him my joy was because OJ, notwithstanding guilt or innocence, had the money and the resources to afford his legal defense, therefore justice, typically reserved for white Americans. To  his chagrin, and that of many other white Americans, the[ir] criminal justice system failed them and  inadvertently was extended to OJ, a Black defendant.

Most importantly, however, the prosecutors failed to prove the case - bottom line! They were so inept at proving the case, the jurors passed on even the theater of long deliberation and promptly delivered a speedy verdict. 

Chris Darden, the Black male prosecutor, is still crying to this day about his very public smack down from the late and great legal genius and icon in the Black community, Johnny "If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit" Cochran. May he rest in peace...

The prosecutors over played their hand and wrongly assumed a jury of majority Black women would deliver the verdict they wanted, conviction of a Black man known for his attraction to white women. They abandoned their golden rule, to strike Black jurors from the jury pool. They bet wrong on their "Angry Black Woman" trope. Justice prevailed over any presumption of resentment of OJ harbored by Black women who were not swayed by planted evidence and shoddy testimony from racist cops, jaded and rehearsed in-laws, or lazy house guests.  

From the slow speed Bronco chase, to the trial, it was sensational and televised every day.  People were glued to the tube. Isn't it interesting however, that almost  three decades later, Bill Cosby's case was not televised? It was just as sensational. It was not televised because the state knew they had a BS case, based on mostly BS witnesses who could not have withstood public scrutiny. They knew their witnesses to be so weak, that once observed in a court of law, the court of public opinion would have swayed in Cosby's favor. Be reminded, the first trial ended in a hung jury. The jurors were not convinced. TV is a powerful medium. I digress... 

The OJ verdict was, and remains, another stark reminder of just how deeply, some say divided, I'll say different, are our experiences as Black and white people living, breathing, and just trying to be, in America. 

The Juice is dead. I guess white folks, especially the Goldmans, now get to have their "wedding". The difference is, Black people are not having a funeral because it was never about OJ for us. May The Juice rest in peace. If he did it, may he meet his maker.

My Sister's Journey; Ice Chips & Applesauce!

 

For those who are following my sister's journey, I have been in California since Friday, and there has been nothing but good news to report. Thank you for your prayers... 

She is talking in FULL sentences, most times coherent, sometimes not, but she is speaking, remembering, giving advice, shelling out orders, sending us home when she is tired, all of that and it is good! 

Yesterday, she passed the swallow test and had her first morsel of food since Feb 2nd. Imagine that! No liquids and no food for 38 days! She was rhet' to eat! Ice chips and applesauce are her new best friends! 

When the therapist asked her to write something, she wrote with her left hand, she is right hand dominant, so even that should have been a challenge, but she wrote, "I mean buzinezz", indicating immediately to the therapist that she purposely misspelled business. My nephew said it's an inside joke. 🤷🏾 All that matters is that she is moving toward recovery AND that she means Buzinezz' in doing it! LOL! 

We have a very long way to go but we are on our way! We now pray that she is accepted into a very rigorous and intense rehab program so that her fight for recovery can continue. I tell you, that she is still here, is a miracle! I keep telling her that. She has quite a will to live, a strong  purpose to live, or both. Either way, when she is ready and able, she will have one helluva' story to tell...

She knows that you all are praying for her, which also fuels her fighting spirit. I join her in thanking you all VERY MUCH! Please keep praying and/or sending positive affirmations. If ever it takes a village, it is in times like this. I will keep you posted...

🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

Happy Kwanzaa 2023!

 

In my current professional role, in the spirit of promoting inclusion, I share with my organization nostalgic information celebrating holidays across diverse communities. This is what I shared for Kwanzaa. Enjoy!

Kwanzaa is an annual celebration honoring African-American culture and heritage culminating in a communal feast, usually on December 31, the sixth day of Kwanzaa. The annual celebration of festivities is from December 26 to January 1. 

The holiday was created by Maulana Karenga following the Watts riots in 1966, which is also the year of the first celebration of Kwanzaa. Mr. Karenga, a noted figure in the historic Black Power movement during the 60’s and 70’s, based the holiday on the spirit of African harvest festival traditions from various parts of West and Southeast Africa. In response to criticism by some Christians that the day was intended to replace Christmas, he defined Kwanzaa as “a cultural holiday with inherent spiritual qualities celebrating African American and Pan-African history, values, family, community, and culture”, not a religious holiday intended to replace Christmas. Today, many African American families celebrate Kwanzaa along with Christmas and the New Year.

There are seven principles of Kwanzaa, each representing an idea or concept expressed in Swahili, one of the most widely spoken languages in Africa. The greeting for each day of Kwanzaa is Habari Gani?, which is Swahili for "How are you?"  Mr. Karenga derived the name Kwanzaa from the Swahili phrase matunda ya kwanza, meaning "first fruits". First fruits festivals exist in Southern Africa and are celebrated in December/January with the southern solstice. It was decided to spell the holiday's name with an additional "a" so that it would have a symbolic seven letters in accordance with the seven principles.

During Kwanzaa, families display seven candles in a kinara, a seven candle candlestick holder. The red, black, and green candles are placed in strategic order. The black candle in the middle represents unity, the three green candles are placed to the right and represent earth, and the three red candles are placed to the left and represent the struggle of African Americans’ shedding of blood in struggles for freedom, civil rights, representation, and equality in America.

The kinara is placed on a mat, the Mkeka, on which other symbols are placed, the unity cup commemorating and giving thanks to African Ancestors, crops to include corn, representing the children, and gifts. On each night, one candle is lit to observe the nguzo saba, the seven principles of Kwanzaa which are as follow: 

1.    Umoja (Unity): To strive for and to maintain unity in the family, community, nation, and race.

2.    Kujichagulia (Self-determination): To define and name ourselves, as well as to create and speak for ourselves.

3.    Ujima (Collective work and responsibility): To build and maintain our community together and make our brothers' and sisters' problems our problems and to solve them together.

4.    Ujamaa (Cooperative economics): To build and maintain our own stores, shops, and other businesses and to profit from them together.

5.    Nia (Purpose): To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.

6.    Kuumba (Creativity): To do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.

7.    Imani (Faith): To believe with all our hearts in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders, and the righteousness and victory of our struggle.

Kwanzaa ceremonies are hosted privately with family and friends and by the larger community for all to gather and participate. Many participants decorate their homes in African art, artifacts and displays of Kente cloth, which is also used for dress for many who dress in traditional African attire for the holiday season. Ceremonies may include African drumming, exhibitions of African art, African dance, songs poetry, and African storytelling, affirmation of pledges, libation to the Ancestors, and lots and lots of traditional African or soul food.

Children are purposely included in Kwanzaa ceremonies to teach them to value, give respect and gratitude to and for their ancestors. It is a special time for friends and family to gather and give thanks, exchange gifts, and share feasts. Traditionally, gifts to be exchanged during Kwanzaa were to be handmade, not commercially purchased. Over the years, however, it has become commonplace that gifts are deliberately purchased from or produced by vendors of African descent. 

In 1997, United States Post Office issued the first stamp commemorating the holiday. In that same year, President Bill Clinton gave the first presidential declaration marking the holiday. Several presidents have since acknowledged the holiday.

Kwanzaa is a very festive and joyous time for cultural and historical reflection by African American and Pan African communities worldwide. Kwanzaa is also celebrated in the United Kingdom, Jamaica, France, Canada, Brazil, and certain provinces in Canada. Festivities culminate with a large feast on December 31, the sixth day of Kwanzaa.

Thank you for reading this information compiled from various souces. Please share with someone else who may not know and be sure to check your local social media or newspaper listings for a Kwanzaa celebration near you!

Happy Kwanzaa 2023!