Who will survive in America?
“I am a Negro…my skin not black but a chestnut hue of my saviors make…a nigger in the white America that is America. They see me a dark boy (Nigger) doing “white” things “white” things no nigger boy does…so now my fellow niggers call me white!”
A young black preacher named Joseph stood overlooking the sea of chestnut hues that lay before him. He looked into each one of their dark caramel eyes and stared solemnly. His hands arose above his full head as he spoke his words of wonder to the ocean. Joseph continued
“So now I am white! I am white because I do not kill my nigger brother…I am white because I do not rape my nigga sister…and I am white for I do not steal from my nigger father or fall into the observers view of the nigger tendencies.”
The sea of black ripple with waves, the cheers of victory erupted from the frothing foam of the deep. An upsurge of pride came rushing forward from the mouth of the typhoon the wild calls of encore swirling by the head of the prophet. Joseph continued.
“TO INSULT A NIGGER YOU CALL HIM WHITE! To insult a nigger that aint a nigger you tell him he belong nowhere!”
The black kept rising. Higher and higher the black rose and the light from their dark faces glared upon the chin of the young teller as did the luminosity of the sunshine behind him. Joseph continued.
“You call him white but when that nigger wants the same rights as the white man you remind him!”
Praises echoed from the wave. So Joseph continued.
“For when you are a nigger in that white, white world…evil is what you are! When that nigger child or the nigger man begs for the same rights as his white brother men, he is reminded…he I just a nigger…and everyone knows aint no nigger surviving in America.”
Silence became the crowd; the sea finally calmed itself and looked up at the man that had commanded them. Joseph looked out upon them…and Joseph continued.
“Aint no niggers surviving in America…aint no niggers working in America…aint no niggers making no difference here in America…But like I told you I am a nigger in white America! In my world I am as beautiful as any white boy or cracker child…I am not a nigger in my world!
In my world I am the new Negro. I am that proud Negro that pulls his creaky bones out of his crib everyday to help build the white man’s America! I am that New Negro waking up everyday to fight! To fight for the rights entitled to every man on god’s green earth! Imma tell you now I am the New Negro! You are the New Negro! And I can
promise you…I’ll tell you I know damn well! The New Negro will survive in America!”
Who will survive in America?
“Mr. Ahmad what is your view on the African- Americans excuse of “victims of the environment”?
“Could you restate the question cracker? I am not familiar with the term.” Ahmad snapped.
“How so many Afro-American people site their environment as the reason they fail.” The senator replied rudely.
“Well that is quite simple my hillbilly adversary…take your mother for example. Take you mother, put her in a cage, and lock that cage. Every once and a while beat that cage violently in front of her dearest loved ones so she may feel shame…then rape your honky mother violently all while antagonizing her as the evil that rots the world.
After said rape project your feces upon that cage and chuckle dumbly as you watch her squirm and shiver in the cold putrid cage…remember at all times to refer to her as a whore and an abomination in the eyes of the lord. Do this all for one hundred years (figuratively of course) then release the lock from the cage, setting your mother free.
Now that she is free, make her thank you for you mercy…hold over her head that you set her free. Once she has praised you tell her she must find a job…knowing nothing but that cage, tell her she must work…Now knowing your mother in all she will ask for your help, believing that you are of the same species, but you must refuse and remind her you have already done her favor by setting her free.
Fast forward three months, your mother is now a crack whore fucking with the same nigger men you preach against…when your friends tease and whisper what will you say? That she is a victim of her environment?”
Who will survive in America?
“Coming down the street today I met with a young nigger boy who stopped me and told me…he told me he had seen me on the TV peaking through the crack of his mamas door…he told me he had seen my on the TV and he believed I was wrong…he told me he had seen me on the TV and that he was proud to be living in America…And this little nigger boy frowned at me with his big nigger lips and told me his mommy was proud as just as he was…proud…
Well I told that nigger boy my viewpoint on this America. I told that nigger boy don’t you listen to what they say on the TV…that censorship they must be feeding you, portraying the black man as a villain on the news when I bet they didn’t even tell you. Two hundred years ago when your nigger ancestors rode like cattle in a slave ship they were experiencing what America would be for the black man.
For when the Black Man entered the “Land of the Free” there was no congratulations…no greeting or sign of acceptance…no instead your nigger relatives were greeted by a “fuck you” and a horde of shackles around their ankles for the next hundred years…when I said this that nigger boy began to cry and running from a store came his mama who yelled at me.
She told me I had no right…I had no right clouding his mind with thoughts for older people. So I asked her…I asked her how she could be proud of a nation with a document called the Constitution. A document special crafted to endow every child of America…every American with the rights to pursue their dreams…I guess they meant every child that isn’t black.
How can you be proud of a country built upon the rape of your people? Proud of the fact they see the Negro as a burden that is luck? Proud of the fact they take credit for the Negroes in America…the niggers in America…”
“What did you to do after that?”
“I told my wife and son to go home.”
Who will survive in America?
“How can you as a black man use the N-word? My question to you is how can you use such a word so frequently.”
“When I was nine years old growing up in Alabama. Growing up living with my father mother, my grandmother after my parents passing, I walked down the lane that led from our house into Montgomery. I would walk happily down that lane thinking not of the stares from the white little boys that lived near me…I would walk down that lane all the way into that town every day and by candy from Mr. Jacobs’s drug store every afternoon.
I would eat that candy on the stoop of his store while he swept up broken glass. I never did understand at that age why his window was always breaking…anyways I would feast on sweets all afternoon until Mr. Jacobs finished his sweeping and sent me back home to my grandmama’s house. Now growing up in Montgomery it didn’t rain very much until that summer…one day it began to rain so hard Mr. Jacobs closed down his store.
I however did not know this fact…so I marched my way through the rain to the drug store and saw it was closed….what should I do? Where will I get my candy? I looked down that Alabama lane and saw another store with lights flashing in the rain, beckoning me to come buy some sweet delight…so I marched my way down that Alabama lane to that bright store with eyes wide open.
It was the nicest store my dark eyes had ever seen…so many shiny new things the black stores did not have. But when I walked into that store… I felt strange…I perked my head up and realized all the eyes of the white folk in the store were focused on me…I also realized the only people in that store were the white folk…now being a young negro boy I did not understand they hate for me these people held.
So I did the normal thing and picked out my candy all while being watched and set it on the counter…I will never forget get as I smiled at the white store clerk like I smiled at Mr. Jacobs, he looked at me and called me…a Nigger…Nigger…Nigger. I went home that day and cried my eyes out…I cried and I sobbed for hours and hour embarrassed by the fact I was black.
“Ladies and Gentleman you have the power…you have the ability…you have the soul to touch the sky and paint it with color for the first time. You have the power to run to the ocean and fill it with the essence of what black is…the power to turn to your white brothers and sisters with the better hand and tell them “I am beautiful!”…I’ve seen power in the race that is black! Mothers on at sixteen struggling to make ends meet, but in the end and through it all they walk with the swagger only a black woman can.
I do not disown my white counterparts for their past transgressions…that is not what Black Power is about…black power; black power is about the evolution of the Negro in America! The evolution so that sixteen year old black girls will not have to worry about putting food on the table for their children…Black Power is here to make sure that little black girl stays on track and gets her education! So that all little girls and little boys of the Negro persuasion may have a taste of the America Pie!
Evolution, Black Power, America…these are the words we need to be preaching to our children, not the hatful words of racism.”
© Copyright 2016 Kenny Pinstil. All rights reserved.
Book / Literary Fiction
Miscellaneous / Historical Fiction
Short Story / Literary Fiction
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