Monday, May 16, 2022

A Family That Shoots Together...

 

Family Values

Well looka' here!  A "family" that shoots together...

Are these your neighbors? 

Has this "family" been persecuted by the media for raising such an egregious subhuman masquerading as a child?

Has anyone called this 18 year old a full size "man" or is he still cast as "teenager" suggesting youthful indiscretion and some expectation of understanding and eventual forgiveness?

Have these "parents" been condemned by the media for rearing this young killer thug?

How about endangering the welfare of children? Have these breeders, AKA "parents", been arrested for exposing the gendron minor children to firearms?

Are the young ones in the photo still in the "family" home or have they been emergency removed for their own safety pending investigation?

Oh! Silly me! The drill I describe is reserved for when the accused is Black or non-white. What was I ever thinking?

White families are not dragged through the mud. The accused is not called a murderous thug POS or a victim of neglectful, uncouth, uneducated, poor or single "parents" who likely bred him on beer, fear, prejudice and overdoses of racism while taking pictures of themselves teaching "sweet little johnny" and the other of their offspring how to shoot, but an innocent, precious child, who's just a little disturbed, a victim of bullying, and/or of course, suffering from mental illness, better referred to as, delusions of white superiority.

Forgive me, I got stuck on this stupid notion of fairness and equality in  reporting, in arrests, in social service intervention,  in legal response.

This guy walks away without even a cut or a hair out of place. Buffalo PD said something about not being able to shoot because the murderer was wearing a bullet proof vest. I am told that it is for this reason cops are trained on the "Mozambique Technique", 2 shots to the body, 1 shot to the head. So, they forgot? ALL of them? The entirety of the force at the scene? Shall there be discipline for failing to perform? Not ONE shot fired at the menacing AR toting, sweet little innocent mass murdering payton [gendron]. You mean, they weren't fearful for their lives or the lives of others who they are sworn to protect and serve? Amazing! It has been proven that a Black "suspect", could have been holding a bag of Skittles, a toy gun, a cell phone, a butter knife, his body would be so full of gun holes, not even his Mama would have recognized him. SMH... Something has to give y'all. The inequities cannot continue.

Are the cops afraid of Black men in general or are they afraid of karma because of that which they have done historically and/or while out of sight to Black men? Are they fearful of the revenge they would seek against those who have harmed, violated or trespassed against them? Are these cops fit to police? I'm Just Askin'...

To take these young white killers into custody without incident or harm to them is to send a message of approval and to encourage copycats. What is the deterrent? Hell, the cops will all but high five these murderers and even roll them by Burger King on the way to the pokie'. It becomes a game and instead, when/because they live unharmed after killing innocent others, to include innocent children but especially Black folks, they are hailed as heroes in the warped minds of their community of fellow racists who are likely encouraged by this lackadaisical police response to become police officers themselves. The beat, more sadly however, the mass shootings, goes on...


#stopthemadness 



Role Model Parents 
 
Harmless suspect taken into custody by friendly police. Next stop Burger King 

Your Co-workers 
Your supervisor at work 
Your friendly neighbors 
Your child's scout leaders 
Your child's school teacher 
Good Christians...

Future school, church, mall, supermarket mass shooter in training 



Wednesday, May 4, 2022

My Choice

With all this talk going on about the end of a woman's right to CHOOSE abortion and the leak of the decision from the Supreme Court to abolish that choice, I am moved to share my views on choice. A lot of people claim to be pro-choice but are you really?

Most believe in choice or one's right to regulate her body as stopping at abortion, stopping at gender. That's limited choice, still in judgment of the choice(s) of others.

To believe in real choice, extends to anything that one chooses to do with their body. There is no judgment nor need to understand or endorse personal decisions of choice made by others about what to do, or not to do, to or with their body. It's their body, their choice, their business...

I choose to mind my business about your choices. Let people do with their body, that which they choose. If there is to be a problem with their Maker, they will find out in due time. I have nothing to do with it.

You want to have the baby? Have the baby.

Want to abort the baby? Abort the baby.

Do you want to take the medicine that might save your life? Take it. Don't want it? Don't take it.

Wanna' end your life? It's your life, end it. But be respectful however, of those you will leave behind. Don't do it in the living room where your loved ones will gather to watch TV after you are gone. Don't even do it in the house or other personal space where they must live.  If you're planning it, be mindful and do it somewhere that will not haunt your loved ones daily. After all,, they will be hurt by and mournful of your choice. Yes, there should be etiquette to even this choice. I digress. I actually could write several essays on that...

Wanna' tat' your body beyond recognition risking your bloodstream and God knows what else? Do you. Pay my facial expression no mind. I'm working on it. LOL!

If everyone could just mind your business and let people do with their bodies that which they will, as they leave you to do with yours what you will, we'd be a whole lot better off. How about that?

It's dreadful that the Courts are even considering reversing long ago decided law, a Woman's Right To Choose. It is legal meddling that really has very little to do with the constitution, law, religion, morals or preserving life. That too, is another story for which I have a whole other theory. Ending one's right to choose abortion is just as dreadful as when the court punished Dr. Kevorkian and imprisoned him for honoring the will or choice of others to die with dignity. He's an unsung hero in my book. I celebrate the man and his work.

How is it that immoral hypocrites, who have chosen abortion in the[ir] past or who actively exercise the choice to abort in the dark of night, get to judge morality by which others should live? Help me to understand...

I can't say it enough. Mind your business and your religion. Leave other folks to their business and their religion or whatever might be their moral compass. They get to choose.

This is my truth and you don't have to agree. Really, you don't. I get to choose...

#proALLchoice
#promindyourdamnbusiness
#proshameonthecourts

Saturday, April 16, 2022

Messages In The Music


This is a Stevie Wonder and 70's music kind of day in my house. What beautiful, beautiful music. This new generation is sadly so culturally deprived of the brilliance of sheer musical genius innate to Black people. Music formerly called jazz, blues, soul or rhythm and blues. Black people are the creator of most genres of music, which, throughout history, has been stolen from us. I remember as a kid looking forward to watching the music award programs, because Black folks were sure to dominate and far outshine all other entertainers. No contest! We went to school on the following day, chests poked out and no short supply of bragging rights! We took full advantage of all such opportunities as they availed themselves. Of course, we did.

It has been taught to me recently that Black music was deliberately destroyed because they knew that's where we received our strength, our guidance and our positive messages to keep us strong, defiant and mindful of our value and worth no matter what was being said about us, told to us or done to us. 

From picking cotton in the blazing sun under the threat of lash, to the injustices of jim crow, to infiltration and destruction of the Black liberation organizations by the US government, flooding our communities with drugs and ultimately, all efforts to destroy the Black family, they could not break us, our spirit, our resilience or our will to fight. We were never intended to be strong, confident, independent or to survive. But we have...

Our music reminded, fortified and spoke to us. When all else failed us, our music lifted us, be it spiritual or secular. It was our source of pride and brought us common joy that sometimes only we understood.

So, they changed our music to what is now void of musical instruments, beats and melodic voices. Instead, it is now replete with self-demeaning, vile and negative messaging. It is so hurtful to my ears [and to my heart] that in the summer when stopped at a red light and someone pulls up next to me with the outrageous "lyrics" blasting from their car, I roll up my window and pull up if I can. I don't want it wafting in my window, not even for a minute.

Instead of building the minds of the listener, today's "music" is destroying the minds and the will of far too many and that folks, is deliberate, VERY deliberate and we are complicit in either our silence, purchase or performance of this "music". I believe that. Even some who perform and/or produce the junk "music" know the long term effects. They don't let their own kids listen to it. Yet they "sing" it feeling no responsibility to the collective. These individuals, with their individual focus, are responsible for loading the musical gun aimed directly at us and killing us, the collective, ever so slowly but ever so surely...

There is no way that one can repeatedly hear the same message, be it positive or negative, and not be effected to respond accordingly. Wanna' stop the violence? First step is to change the message in the music. Nothing about that is rocket science. It's actually pretty elementary...

Blow the dust off your old albums and play them! MAKE your kids listen. Share with them the happy stories and now abandoned traditions from your youth. Inspire them and as you are inspired to remember who we are, why we are, how we are, how we have come to be and how we have maintained, no matter the odds, no matter the hate and racism, no matter the obstacles. We are a phenomenal people and still we rise...

Beautiful, beautiful Black people. Beautiful, beautiful Soul music! Cherish It and Celebrate Us!

Tuesday, March 29, 2022

After The Debacle...



A day later after the fall out from the 'Will Smith Does The Oscars' debacle and I really, really hate that it ever happened. I am imagining that by now Will has assessed what he did and knows that it was terribly wrong. He has since released a public apology to Chris Rock, the public and the academy and probably wishes that he could take back or redo that one horrible minute of his life. I don't know what he was thinking or how he didn't, in that walk toward the stage, take time to [re]consider or take stock of what he was about to do. Take the mic, yell at or upstage Chris, anything but assault him...


I cannot imagine how Chris Rock, who demonstrated commendable restraint and who I think is a really nice guy, must be feeling. Surely he didn't think that he was about to be assaulted as he acknowledged Will's approach to the stage. Certainly, he didn't deserve what his friend, fellow comedian and/or colleague did to him on the world stage no less. Despite the shock of it all, being blindsided with a slap that has now been heard around the world, he was the consummate professional. He maintained his dignity, did not yield to cocky male ego or a need to "save face". Instead, he tried his best to rebound or salvage civility. In the midst of crazy, he did his best to manage a truly shocking, unpredictable and unexpected situation.


Thankfully, Chris did not respond in kind to Will's violence. There was nothing to have been gained from witnessing two rich and professional men all dressed up and physically fighting. Even from his seat however, Will was resistant to Chris' cooler head prevailing. He rejected following his lead of mature composure and further exacerbated an already bad situation.


I do not believe that Chris knew about Jada's alopecia. He does not have a history of being that kind of person. Heretofore, both Chris and Will have been thought to be nice people given their roles in Holly-weird. Recently Will has been open about coming to terms with a misplaced ego in certain aspects of his career and marriage and deeply remorseful about the horrible way he treated his co-star Janet Hubert (Aunt Viv). He used his power to ruin her and her career. It was refreshing to see him come to terms with and own the truth of his youthful arrogance and now this. It is all so unnecessary and so unfortunate...


Hopefully this is reparable and will result in a teachable moment for all of us. For right now however, it is still really bad. Will lost a lot, so much more than Chris. He has enjoyed a stellar reputation as a nice guy, the good guy with the good Grandmother who demanded clean rap lyrics. He has always been a decent role model for our children and an example of a roadmap for grace and success for many. He was a West Philly favored son, born and raised. That's a lot of pressure. We all have our breaking point. Sadly, his was in the most public of settings and is forever memorialized. We must give him grace and space to be fallible, to be human...


This is all so unfortunate but yet another test for Will Smith. Others have rebound from adversity. It is my sincere hope and belief that he will too...

~ Miss Higgi

Sunday, March 27, 2022

Don't Dance on My Pain...


A high school friend posted on her Facebook page that she attended a wedding at a plantation in Florida. I posted the forthcoming comment in response. Just say NO to invitations of celebration at plantations! It ain't cool! 

Plantations are former torture camps! The history is real. The history is painful. To celebrate at these venues is the height of insensitivity toward Black Americans, some of whom you may call "friend". Don't invite us. Better yet, don't you go! 

Partying at a plantation is like dancing in Germany's gas chambers. These places should not be celebrated and in no way can they be sanitized. Their history is real...

Want the truth of what happened on America's plantations? Visit Whitney Plantation in Louisiana. NOTHING good came from the barbarity of slavery as NOTHING good came of the torture of people of Jewish faith in concentration camps across Germany. Nothing! Somehow, Germany understands that. America wants [us] to erase or forget. Never shall I forget. My Ancestors won't allow it. They [We] shall not be canceled... 

Wanna' cancel something? Cancel these venues! #Boycottplantations 

I hope my classmate understands what triggered this emotion. In the spirit of raising her level of [racial] consciousness, increasing her [and others] sensitivity to the realness and existence of Black pain, in fulfillment of my civic duty to say something when I see something, satisfying my duty to say "ouch" when it hurts, here is what I unapologetically wrote on my classmate's page: 

Getting married, creating a Bed & Breakfast, or having any other kind of happy occasion at a plantation is akin to having a party at Auschwitz in Germany. It just ain't gonna' happen and no explanation of why it ain't gonna' happen need be spoken. It is as understood as is the inhumanity of the holocaust. So, what makes a plantation in the US different than a Jewish concentration camp in Germany, I ask in all sincerity??? 

This is more of America's history she refuses to face, what she is trying to erase. There is nothing happy or joyous about plantations. Horriific and atrocious acts of barbarity were committed at plantations. In no way should these places be beautified or glorified. To do so is the height of insensitivity to Black Americans and by extension, persons of Jewish faith. I hope neither community support these venues... 

There is no sanitizing or washing away the history or the pain of rape, torture and other acts of inhumanity that happened upon that soil. There is blood in the soil that cannot be washed or danced away... 

I wish ghosts were real or that  trees and walls could talk. My Ancestors would have plenty to say. There would be no joy or happy occasions to be had at America's southern plantations, as there is nothing joyous, happy or beautiful about them. As they are torture chambers, they should be boycotted.

Don't Dance on My Pain...






#Americandenialisreal #Boycottplantationsp

Wednesday, March 9, 2022

Protect Your Peace

I said to a friend a few weeks ago advice that I need to take for myself and that I gladly share with others. We must be intentional about protecting our peace. Once you find it, don't let others disturb it, no matter who they are... ~Miss Higgi (Photo, Ghana 2014)

Monday, February 21, 2022

Good Parents; Our Greatest Gift


 In preparing a lesson for my class to talk about poverty, I could not help but think of my Mother raising five children by herself and imagining the many, many sleepless nights she must have had trying to figure out how to keep us together and make ends meet.


Of course we were poor. She was a single woman with five children. Crazily however, people in the neighborhood used to say, "those Higginbothams got money!" How could we possibly have money? We were one of very few single parent families in the neighborhood. It was the 60s and 70s and yes, many Black families were still intact. Don't believe the hype! Against all odds to destroy our family structure, many were holding it down, poor and otherwise.


Despite a great start, my father gave up really early. He and my Mom had worked so hard that by the time I started kindergarten, we were the third Black family to move into an all white neighborhood, which is a story in itself. Let's just say, our white neighbors were not so welcoming. My Mom told us their stories of putting cherry bombs in our   mailbox, throwing for sale signs in our yard, of course, their children were forbidden to play with us and as more Black families moved in, municipal services like school bus transportation, just stopped. We were five so we played with one another.


Thanks to my father, and my Mother who also worked, we were living the dream, "moving on up!", so to speak. My parents were in their 20s. Once however, my father decided not to come home anymore, the court ordered $25 per week child support for FIVE kids! Laughable! He never paid. He lived and died in arrears...


My Mom raised us singlehandedly as did many other Black Women. Therefore, hashtag, I AM NOT A FEMINIST! Black Women were "roaring", if you will, burning their bras, bringing home the bacon and frying it up in the pan long before it became fashionable, courageous or some catchy soundbite for white women to  wear as a badge of honor symbolizing having found herself or announcing to the world her newfound freedom demanding to be seen, validated and heard.


Not necessarily by choice and certainly not to make a political statement, somehow single Black Mothers found the strength to protect and make sure that her children never went without. I know nothing of being hungry, cold, wearing tattered or shabby clothing, bearing the responsibility of raising my younger siblings or going without the necessities of life. We had as much in terms of material things, and maybe more love, as did most other children in our neighborhood.


It was a different time. Kids were not hung up on overpriced designer labels. Some kids got teased yes, but no one got killed for a pair of sneakers.


Designer labels hit the scene somewhere during my high school years. Mommy bought us knock offs or moderately priced slightly "irregular" Gloria  Vanderbilt or Calvin Klein jeans or Chuck Connor Allstar sneakers. Remember that? LOL! There were whole stores specifically selling "irregulars"!


Despite the odds, my Mom sacrificed, likely her life with stress and worry dying of cancer at the tender age of 45, so that we could live a decent life. My Mother was not unique. Many a poor Black child never knew or felt poor thanks to many a Black Mom. Since slavery, the Black Mother  has been the epitome of the "tiger" or  protective Mom, born likely not by choice but from necessity,  probably having  to do with bearing the pain of her husband being sold away from her and having her suckling babies literally snatched from her breast and also sold on an auction block. Let us never forget...


The Black Woman knows pain, thus giving birth to the facade of  Strong Black Woman. Is she real? Are all Black Women strong or us it an ill-gotten perception? How does she show up in the world when she is not strong? Is her strength an asset, a burden or is it the mask she wears to cover her [our] pain? Sistah love is real and imperative to feed our soul, so Black Women, we MUST Gather...


Although outwardly strong, our Mothers were not super women, they were tired women and we must always honor, revere and protect them where we can. I have always said, if I must be poor, I choose being Black and poor. So many times we manage to wear "poor" or mask it in pride so well, such that even we forget.


Many a Black Mother shielded us to never have poor mindsets, despite our financial reality. I remember my Mom saying we were "poor kids with rich ideas". I recall her ever so clearly saying that to me when I told her I was going to study abroad in Spain. We had never been on an airplane before. I was 21. She was 39ish. She died never having flown. Never did she get to meet the jetsetting spirit she unintentionally unleashed in her daughter, who would travel the world,  during that long reluctant drive to JFK Airport wherein she prayed all the way that I would not dare get on that big ole' airplane to parts unfamiliar, beyond her reach and protection of her wing. She really did pray that I would come to my senses and drive back home with her but still, she let me fly. She was proud. She loved bragging rights about her kids. Me living in Spain, was one of those rights for sure! Seemingly she was oblivious, never fully realizing or  understanding that it was she who planted those "rich kid" seeds in our minds. My greatest regret is not being able to take care of and spoil her in return. I did little things before she died, but I wanted to do so much more.


I'll Always Love My Mama! STILL, she is truly my favorite Girl!!!


Pass this blog post on and share your stories of love about your Black Mother or Father with others, especially your children, preferably with her or him if s/he is still here to receive your flowers. While the story of my father is woe, leaving my frame of reference maternal love, I fully appreciate being deprived of the great love many a child knows of their father. Celebrate him too! Don't wait until your parents birthday, Christmas, Mother's or Father's Day or God forbid, theit funeral. Give them their roses everyday! If we are blessed, one or both of our parents are our gift that never stops giving. Miss Higgi Says, Thank them...