“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.” ― Albert Einstein
Words are powerful. The deafening words of Willie Lynch have systematically brainwashed. Malignant fears, parasitic thoughts, and reprehensible actions have echoed throughout America. Constitutionalized ideals, mocked by savage institutionalized racism, continues to incite cultural chaos. The first enslaved Africans made an impressive 1619 début; welcoming English colonies greedily accepted and oppressed.
Today, the President of the United States is a Black man. A change is gonna come! The more things change, the more things stay the same! Please, insert any overused, underwhelming, clichéd phrase here. Undoubtedly, things have dramatically improved since the 1600s. The President is Black. Jeezy may also tell you that the courtroom has replaced the auction block. The penal system is the new plantation. When inmates are more valuable than free-Black men, then one man, President or not, is unable of eradicating a country’s racism. National consistent action must reinforce the change that we seek.
Racism is real. Racism is alive. Corrupted shadows provide clandestine cover for malignant actions. Clogged metropolis, or one-stop-light-town, racism and hate are intricately woven into the tapestry of American society. Is it a neighbor?
Tulsa, Oklahoma, like many other unassuming American cities, hoards a malevolent past. Putrid motivations lead to the utter destruction, and mass-murders of its 1921 race riot. These resilient thoughts have survived the years. Once again, on April 9, 2012, Tulsa had a Good Friday Slaughter.
Five residents were stalked. Their enriched melanin made them targets. Senseless trigger fingers turned a wicked contest into tragedy. Tulsa is talking, ‘How many of them dirty n*ggers you reckon we can get?’ The more things change, the more things stay the same. Read what Tulsa has to say:
Some of you ni—have been getting out of line; way out of line! Here, that is severely frowned upon. Ask your granny, or your great mammy; we have a way of corralling the incorrigible. Your pappy or your grandpappy will tell you about the Good Old Days. That is, if they are still around. Do you even know who your daddy is?
Now, ever so often, drastic measures are required. We can look to the glorious year of 1921 as a way to rectify social snafus. Greenwood was a cute experiment. The only Wall Street belongs in New York! And, there it will stay. When too much self-righteousness begins to clog an animal’s mind that animal must be forcibly Broken. There are several ways to break the spirited. Proven AmerICan standards set forth by, Grandfather Willie, and Unkle Jim have worked well throughout generations; yes, sir. All this hooting, hollering, and carrying on about change is worrisome. Really, what has changed? Your president has a white mother; never forget that! All this silly yelling about, “I am Trayvon Martin” is pure hilarity! Yes, you are! Please, continue to waste your breath. That will make the chase easier. You ARE Trayvon Martin, ha!
When I wear my hoodie, it is just a little different than yours. This family heirloom has impacted several accepting generations. While you are, Trayvon Martin, I am George Zimmerman! I am Jake England; I am Allen Watts! I am Sarah Page! Perspective is best reflected with accurate and true realization of self. The only warranted change is to that of Yesteryear.
Listen up, and I’ll teach you some proud AmerICan history. Force will be used. It is Our birthright to continue Our legacy of Dominance. What would happen if control were lost? I tell you what, anarchy! Sometimes a cleansing fire brings about Purity. For the record, the only black that is praised is that, bubbling crude. Now, that is one black natural resource that reigns supreme. I will always condone that type of slippery black.
At one time, back in 1921, those jiggaboos had the gall, and sheer audacity, to actually poke out their hollow chests and pretend to behave as Human Beings. Stores, and businesses, and professional practices began to thrive like a resilient Virus. No, no, no! Who were they to attempt to reverse the Institutionalized Order? They are to serve the Master. If Tulsa’s damned Greewood District were left uninterrupted, it forever would have been a smudge against OKlahoma, and against our great nation! Just think if our cunning relatives failed to act—it brings terror to mind! Some of us grew sad and grew bitter about witnessing those, Shouldn’t-Haves, amassing more than they We owned. A plan was formed and it was certainly enacted. Meetings were held. Under pristine sheets our secret was whispered; that defiant whisper turned into a valiant shout of Righteous and necessary action! May 31, 1921 was the start of the reclamation of “Little Africa.” Sure, collections of kind-hearted folks acted passionately to ensure that Our way of life was not destroyed.
Order had to be reasserted! It was Our duty to forever halt the social purgatory those mooncrickets were trying to cultivate. Planes armed with combustible devices, accurate snipers, armed militia (bearing guns, bayonets, or the Trusted rope) were Our defense against an undercurrent of blatant aggression. What would have happened if we did not intervene? Our love prompted us to Purify their plague of pestilence. That infection threatened to disease our normal economic infrastructure. Those pitiful monkeys did not stand a chance.
I remember a story that’s enriched my family’s history. June 1, 1921, My great-great Unkle Bob, returned a weary family of monkeys back to the woods! Yes, he sure did. You know, I never seen a monkey that did not like to swing from a tree. So, after he stills the male monkey, he pitches him right up into that tree. He was just a swinging and carrying on. So, then he gets that female monkey. This was a little trickier; because, that she-monkey was pregnant as ever. After the jerking and the swaying, that female monkey was tired of swinging. That is when great-great unkle Bob, and his animal-loving audience nearly left.
The story goes, a mere toddler was the one who intervened in an almost tragedy, “What about the baby monkey?” That’s when great-great unkle Bob acted in a flash. His Christian principals would not allow that baby monkey to continue to exist parentless, in a cruel world. Expertly, he flicked his wrist, his knife slicing the way; the intruded womb spat forth. A fully developed little monkey fell kicking and screaming to the ground. Just a few devout Christian stomps silenced its shrill cries. It’s a good thing he wore his sturdy boots! Following Our quick action, that Greenwood nonsense was swiftly righted! Today, there are barely any remaining relics of that awful time. The ashes have lifted, the bodies were burned, or tossed into the Arkansas River (Hey, fish have to eat, too). Sure, there may be a monument, or two; so what! Yeah, yeah, a few memorialized placards signify Greenwood’s, “Walk Of Shame.” Again, who cares? Right has reasserted itself, thank you, Lord.
Social Order will stand; especially, here. I am Tulsa, Oklahoma! Let’s fast-forward to March of 2012. Again, another socially-conscious, responsible resident, took it upon himself to champion his father’s memory. Yes, it certainly was a Good Friday. As you may know, a Rightfully concerned AmerICan sought to avenge his family legacy. Good job, brother! Even though he had a partner, only five spooks were trapped and emancipated. Today, bullets are lot more convenient than lugging around the proper accoutrements. If you ask me, most of these youth can’t even tie a proper and secure knot. We must to get back to AmerICan fundamentals. So, Jesse Jackson, brought his putrid face to town and polluted our air. So what! We are working together to make sure that Our Jake England, and that Our Alvin Watts receive a Just trial. Why do We need to go through the rigmarole of even wasting tax-payers money on this? If you ask me, it was neighborhood cleansing. You have to pay the pest-control; so, why are We not paying Jake and Allen? Time sure has a way of twisting what’s Right.
Rest assured that Our resources will again aid Our brothers. Brothers, do not fret. The puppet show will soon be over. As always the man behind the curtain has everything in Order. The appointed robe is on Our team. How does the, Chief Public Defender, get appointed to such a case as this? There are no mistakes; but, We all know that! Greenwood is gone, and isn’t animal cruelty just a misdemeanor? This has happened before, and it will happen again. Stop and think about it; it happened on Good Friday! As always the Lord is on Our side!
For more insight into Tulsa’s 1921 Race Riot, purchase Riot on Greenwood: The Total Destruction of Black Wall Street.