Does Bill Bell Have a Problem With Black Voters?

I did a double take when I heard the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People endorsed Sylvester Williams for Mayor. The deep breath I took was enough to rob me of the oxygen needed to survive. I exhaled when I read that Lavonia Allison set the record straight by informing the press that Williams falsely asserted the endorsement. I wondered how the Committee could support Williams over the Bell.

It wasn’t enough to consider the Committee’s recent flirtations with all things absurd. When considering Durham’s political landscape it’s quite clear that the group entrusted with being concerned with the affairs of black people is out of touch with the people they serve. That’s a sad indictment worthy of a miniseries dedicated to illumination. The once powerful political action committee has been reduced to public scrutiny related to internal squabble. But, could it be, that the Political Action Committee of the Durham Committee’s consideration of Williams speaks to a deeper issue? Could it be that Bell’s popularity among dark hued folks is wearing thin?

My close call with whiplash upon hearing of Sylvester Williams’ premature endorsement is due, in part, to my personal interactions with the good Rev. My first encounter was at a community festival. He approached me and accused me of supporting gay rights due to his claim that I must be gay. The old dude locked up in the basement of my inner thoughts came close to running up the stairs, knocking down the door and giving the preacher a taste of what it felt like to give a few beat downs back in the day. I inhaled, exhaled and released.

I soon discovered that Williams’ comments had more to do with his hatred toward gays than his issues with me. Oh, ole dude is just homophobic. What he needs is a lesson on how to engage in that type of conversation void of the verbiage that leaves him resembling a deacon with a 4th grade education. I do respect him for standing by his views, and admire him for the passion he brings to the discussion. My disagreement does not negate any of that.

Which leads me to the broader conversation involving the close call endorsement of Williams over Bell? Is there any rationale in believing people have just cause in searching for a replacement of the man who has served in public office since Moses parted the Red Sea? Even more critical to this discussion has to deal with the fading support among the PAC concerned with the affairs of all things black.

As popular as Bell has become over the years, that popularity has a few major holes in the armor. Many are chopping their lips at the possibility of someone taking hold of his office. Some feel he has become comfortable as Durham’s Mayor. More than that, far too many contend he lacks a genuine concern for the affairs of black people. Oh gasp! Say it’s not so!

It is vital to this conversation to take into account the massive economic development in Durham. To his credit, Bell has been the champion of the growth. He has helped lead the way in promoting economic development within Downtown Durham. With that being said, Bell has not, in the view of many, been one who has helped facilitate opportunity for African Americans interested in getting a slice of the pie.

Critics of that contention may argue that advancement has one color, and that color is green. As impactful as that argument may be, it is reasonable to suggest that a Mayor with the political clout of Bell has an obligation to help facilitate the advancement of African American owned and operated businesses. Durham has a rich African American heritage, and it would seem, one would think, that Bell would make promoting and supporting that legacy as a key priority to his work as Mayor.

This in no way implies that African American owned businesses deserve privileges different from other companies. What it does assert is the same level of treatment as other companies. One would think that the Mayor would go the last mile to support African Americans hoping to build their work in Durham. Many feel slighted by Bell.

That’s not to say any of the criticism is deserved. What it does aver is a matter of perception that Bell should consider as he prepares to take hold of another term in office.

Wanted: Five New Commissioners for Durham

Finally, our local Board of County Commissioners has proven they can compromise. After months of internal fighting, Joe Bowser decided to take a walk on the side of the street where sane people travel. He did the right thing by casting a vote for Pam Karriker to assume the seat vacated by the early exit of Becky Heron.

True to her uncompromising posture, Ellen Reckhow cast a dissenting vote remaining true to her claim that she would stand behind Wendy Jacobs until the ship sank. The remaining three Commissioners decided that cooperation meant more than personal agendas and opinions. At the end of the day, what mattered most is putting an end to the public image that the board needs group therapy.

It’s sad that Reckhow was unable to cast that last vote as a statement of board solidarity. As it stands, the local political climate resembles the war among politicians in DC. The hostilities among the Democrats and Republicans elected to serve us can be understood due to political ideological differences. This local muddle of indifference is harder to justify due to the common political affiliation of those who serve on the board. They are all Democrats.

To his credit, Bowser took the high road by compromising. To her fault, Reckhow placed her personal agenda above what the community needed to witness. For those standing outside the power strains of Durham’s political system, selecting a replacement to the board meant more than what the People’s Alliance, The Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People or any of the other PACs in Durham desired. It meant more than what Heron wanted in a replacement. Durham’s citizens deserve from their local politicians the same as they require from those who serve in office beyond a local concern. We desire politicians able to compromise when needed.

Reckhow’s dissenting vote exposed a weakness that voters should consider in the next election. There is no place for stubbornness in political office. This is not a place to stand by a promise made to a former Commissioner. The public needs unity and that last vote would have gone a long way to dispel the tension that has wrecked the reputation of the board.

All of the Commission members have tough questions to answer leading into the next election. It is the Rev-elution’s contention that Durham deserves a new set of leaders to serve this community. Yes, it may be time to replace all five members of the board with a group able to move past the inconsistent leadership that has fractured this group of misfits.

The good news is a strong cluster of candidates has emerged from this process. Hampton Delinger stands out among a group of highly qualified people willing to serve. Anita Daniels, who I can vouch for as a person of integrity, and Wendy Jacobs join Denlinger as serious contenders to the post. That’s three out of five. Any takers on the final two slots?

Citizens have a right to demand better from those we elect. If they can’t get along, and they have proven they can’t, get them out! Replace them with a group committed to making decisions best for the masses.

Again, anyone else willing to serve?

Can I have this dance: You lead

I’m not a fan of “Dancing With the Stars.” It’s not that I have a problem with ballroom dancing. I plan to dabble in it myself. The dance style is on my list of things to learn within the next few months. It’s up there with salsa dancing with my girl, skydiving and driving a race car. Yep, I have my own bucket list void of a death sentence from my doctor.

With that being said, I took an interest in this year’s line-up due to two steppers. I tuned in to support Chaz Bono after the homophobes slammed the network for allowing him to dance. The daughter of Sonny and Cher made that leap into manhood in 2009 due to not being comfortable with the body he was born with. Those conservative minded Christians wanted to boycott the show for allowing a transgender person to do the jitter bug on national television.

My disdain for reality television wasn’t enough to sway me away from this seasons “Dancing With the Stars.” It’s not entertainment, this is about affirming inclusion. But, there is more to this cast of boogie artist. I wanted to support the power of human transformation. Bono isn’t the only one who has made a shift worthy of attention. I had to support Metta World Peace.

Who? Metta, formerly known as Ron Artest, is the basketball player who made his way into the stands after being confronted by a fan. World Peace was known more for his off court antics prior to that brawl in Detroit. What happened on that day affirmed what many assumed-that Artest was a trouble maker, a bomb ticking. Tick, tock, he was ready to blow, and he did.

I celebrated with World Peace when he was kicked off the show. His response in defeat said more than a celebration in victory. In the world of games, we have to be reminded that it is only a game. Watching Mr. Peace dance and fail inspired me to celebrate the victories and defeats of life. Not everyone understands that important lesson.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Nancy Grace. The queen of Court TV seems to have a hard time with not being in charge. Watching her exposed a major rule of dancing. It’s a lesson that women like Grace have a hard time accepting. You see, in the world of dance, men lead. Women follow. Grace has a hard time in not leading.

That notion forced me to ponder the implications of such a rule. What happens when the woman is better at leading? What happens when the man isn’t able to lead? Why should gender hinder the beauty of the dance? I had to brood over that one for a few hours.

Gender rules have a way of getting in the way of productivity. Women should lead if they are better at the dance. Men should learn to follow if they don’t know how to lead. Gender identity shouldn’t obstruct the splendor of the dance. This has bearing beyond the dance. I can’t help but think that many relationships would work better if we learned to free ourselves of the massive restrictions that come with gender roles.

This brings me back to Chaz Bono dancing with the stars. The critics of her participation on the show have issue with failing to understand Bono’s gender role. Is he a she, or is he still a she? If he is a she then she is dancing with a she and there is no one to lead. It all boils down to folks failing to respect Bono’s decision to identify as a man. In other words, he is a he, and he was dancing with a she. In this case, Bono was taking the lead, but is it appropriate to assume that he should lead when she is a better dancer than he?

At the end of the day, the only thing that really matters is the dance. Who leads isn’t as important as the fun of the bop. Dancing isn’t a power move; it is a celebration of movement. This brings me back to World Peace’s celebration in getting kicked off the show.

I shed a few tears for him. You see folks; he celebrated because he was allowed to dance. After what happened during that brawl one would think that he would never be allowed to dance. He was chosen, and that may have been enough. The fans voted him off, but not because of his attitude. The dude can’t dance. No biggie. He was given the chance to try.

He didn’t have to lead. All he had to do was dance. Beyond gender identity, beyond past mistakes-he was there with Chaz Bono. Two transformed people on a national stage.

Come dance with me. Before we start, can you lead?

Hate killed Troy Davis

What does it take to kill a person in this country? Beyond reasonable doubt has become beyond reasonable hate.

After praying most of the day, the state of Georgia took the life of Troy Davis. The last minute efforts of his attorneys to stay the execution failed when the U.S. Supreme Court denied their plea. At 11:08 p.m. Davis was murdered by lethal injection.

No, I didn’t use the wrong term to describe what happened. I’m convinced, beyond all doubt, that Davis was murdered last night. It was hate that secured his fate. Davis, like so many other men and women caught in an unjust system, was murdered to protect the reputation of today’s version of the plantation.

It wasn’t enough that seven witnesses recanted their testimony. It wasn’t enough that there is a possible confession of another suspect. There were too many doubts to take a life. The legal system established to protect the innocent from the bias of jurors has failed once again. Over and over again, we have observed that costly crack within the system. People lie. People are willing to do whatever it takes to win a case. They hide evidence. They determine guilt based on the way a person looks, and they refuse to see past their stereotypes and hatred.

In cases like this, prosecutors tend to place the desire of the victim's family above discovering the truth. The weeping family deserves closure. They simply want the pain to go away. Taking pain away equates to killing the person who killed the one they love. Once the courts zero in on a suspect; hatred takes center stage.

Hatred discounts the humanity of the person accused. Someone has to pay for that evil act that robbed the family of the life they miss so much. Hatred has a way of hiding truth. It seeks the image of what they hate to hate even more. Hatred can’t hear the screech of reasonable doubt. Hatred has no doubt. It hates beyond proof. It functions with its own set of rules.

It is easy for hate to murder what it hates. Hatred feeds on the conditions of bigotry and assumptions. “This is what black men do,” hatred yells in the face of evidence. “He looks like a person who could have done this. He must be guilty.”

Hatred can’t see humanity. Hatred didn’t see Darryl Hunt when the DNA evidence didn’t match. Hatred wouldn’t give time to consider the possible innocence of Troy Davis after reasonable doubt was raised. Hate can’t listen.

A system fueled by hate is managed by those willing to circumvent the suppositions of the system they represent. The Supreme Court embraced the law of hate above the mandate of innocence beyond reasonable doubt. The hate of the family meant more. The consuming hatred of black men numbed the power brokers from hearing beyond that hate.

"I'd like to address the MacPhail family," Davis said, according to The Associated Press, before taking that last breath. "Let you know, despite the situation you are in, I'm not the one who personally killed your son, your father, your brother. I am innocent.”

"The incident that happened that night is not my fault," he added. "I did not have a gun. All I can ask ... is that you look deeper into this case so that you really can finally see the truth.

"I ask my family and friends to continue to fight this fight," he said. "For those about to take my life, God have mercy on your souls. And may God bless your souls."

Hate didn’t hear what he said. "Justice has been served for Officer Mark MacPhail and his family," state Attorney General Sam Olens said in a statement.

He calls it justice. I call it murder. Another black man has been killed despite evidence that could prove his innocence. The protection of his rights doesn’t matter in a system soured by the site of black skinned dudes.

There is no reasonable doubt for black men. There is only hatred.

When faith crosses the line

From all accounts, what happened resembled a scene from a John Wayne movie. “I haven't lost my temper in 40 years; but, Pilgrim, you caused a lot of trouble this morning; might have got somebody killed; and somebody oughta belt you in the mouth. But I won't. I won't. The hell I won't," Wayne howls before belting Leo Gordon in the mouth in the movie McLintock.

I’m told a group of Christians deserved to be punched in the mouth after storming into the office of Marcus Brandon (D-Guilford) and forcing his Legislative Assistant to become the focus of a prayer meeting. After attempting to lay hands on him, I’m told, they prayed for his deliverance. He was left baffled and disgusted by the assumption made by those on a mission to set him free of his affliction.

The missionaries were in Raleigh to support the band of legislative homophobes consumed with a plan to place a ban of same-gender marriage in the state Constitution. On last week, The Rev-elution reported on the actions of the group led by Donald Fozard of the Mt. Zion Christian Church in Durham. In that blog (“Black Pastors Stand to Ban Gay Marriage: What Up With That”) it was reported that Fozard continually called Brandon, the state’s only openly gay legislator, a liar after Brandon brought attention to a poll that shows 61% of African Americans living in North Carolina oppose an amendment that would ban same-gender marriage.

The group left the press conference and headed to Brandon’s office. Once there they confronted the Legislative Assistant by accusing him of being gay. Once they announced the evil within him that led him to work with Brandon, they compelled him to pray. They surrounded him like a lynch mob from the sitcom “Gunsmoke” and prayed for the demon of homosexuality and his support for the rights of the sodomites to depart.

“It’s a shame what they did to him,” an assistant from another legislator told me. They embarrassed him. They singled him out due to their disdain of his boss’s agenda. They transformed the building into a Pentecostal revival and, by doing so, crossed that line separating church and state. What they did reflects my greatest fear related to the efforts to place a ban of same-gender unions in the constitution. It’s not good to force all citizens to walk down the same street. Doing so denies people the beauty of the landscape on the street on the other side of town.

Those holy folks rolled into Raleigh and knocked that door of separation down. They took advantage of their time on the stage and used it to make another point-they were there to do more damage. They were there to identify all of the enemies to their faith and to cast that devil out of them-one person at a time. This was not lobbying, it was the Inquisition reaffirmed. They stormed into that office to defeat the heretics fighting for same-gender inclusion.

In doing so, they made a major blunder in judgment. They failed by assuming the sexual preference of the person they prayed over. I suppose the gift of prophesy went array on that front. The person they prayed over isn’t gay. I know him well enough to know this to be true. I know him through a mutual relationship with a person I love and respect. My daughter.

My Daughter, Krista Kenney, and that Legislative Assistant have dated since she was a freshman in college. That Legislative Assistance has eaten food from my table. He has loved my daughter when she was sick. He has respected me, but more than any of that, I love him like my own son. I love him because of the way he loves my daughter.

When Krista called me upset, I got upset. That’s what daddy’s do you know. We stand by our children. When you mess with one of my kids prepare to get slapped in the face. So, back off with your duplicitous prayers and efforts to save the world from the spirit of homosexuality. Back off with your scolding of those who live the faith the best they can. Stop your pretentious battle to substantiate that your God is bigger than their God.

In the words of John Wayne, “I won’t be wronged. I won’t be insulted. I won’t be laid a hand on. I don’t do these things to other people. I require the same from them.”

Step back Pilgrim and spend some more time reading that big book you call the Word of God.

Hey Hayti. Thanks for the memories!

Liz Jackson and Tamisha Waden swayed on the stage as they belted the lyrics to my favorite old school funk anthem. “Flashlight,” it was like old times on the dance floor as my girlfriend Connie and I did what we do best. We moved and grooved until we couldn’t take it no more.

It didn’t matter to either of us that people were watching. We have an understanding. We’re both ministers. We both have a respect for those old sacred hymns, but when John Brown and the Groove Shop Band fired up my all time favorite-Parliaments “Flashlight”-it would have been disrespectful not to “tear the roof off the sucker”.

Besides, we were there to celebrate all that makes Durham special. “Everyone who doesn’t like Durham can kiss my ass,” a vivacious Jackson declared. “There’s not a place like Durham anywhere.” So true. The thrill of the moment reminded me of the shout after one of my feel good sermons. It was part revival, part reunion and whole bunch of sure you rights.

I must say I was taken by surprise. All of this happened at this year’s Bull City Blues Festival. It’s not that the festival is impervious to the gratification of a good time. This was year 24 of the festival, and, from all accounts, a good time has been had since year one. What made this one different were the circumstances behind it all. There were no big name national acts. There were no ticket sold and it was held at a new site. Despite all those changes, this year’s festival far exceeded the expectations of everyone.

“My son in law is going this year because it is free,” Naomi Quinn, my friend, and Saturday Morning Breakfast Club member, informed me earlier that day. It is true that the attendance at past festivals has been hindered by the steep price attached to getting in. During these tough economic times it is difficult for a person to afford to make that sacrifice. No, forgive me, it’s hard to make that sacrifice even during good economic times.

This year’s festival was billed as a thank you party for all who supported the Hayti Heritage Center over the years. The promise given is for a big gig next year in celebration of 25 years. There’s one big problem. The staff at the Hayti Heritage Center will have a difficult time in surpassing what happened on September 10th.

I couldn’t count the people present. “There must be 10,000 people here,” Connie said as we approached the line at the Joe Diners food truck. Connie and her daughter Deja wanted one of those famous hotdogs. It took us 45 minutes to get to the front of the line. I enjoyed the wait as Bobbie Hinton pumped the crowd up with his blend of blues, soul and funk. I did a two step as my friend Aaron Mills, the bass man for the group Cameo, plucked until we all smelled the funk.

There was only one problem with the night. I had to leave earlier than I wanted. I missed hearing my friend Shana Tucker’s performance. I always giggle when I watch her play that cello while startling folks with her captivating voice. Her gift is the perfect marriage of all things classical and things found in the back room of a liquor house. I also missed Mel Melton and the Wicked Mojo’s. I’ve never heard the group, but I’ve eaten enough crawfish at Papa Mojo’s Roadhouse to make up for my omission. Mel is the owner of the restaurant.

I’m not sure of what we can expect on next year. I know the festival is Hayti’s big fundraiser. They need the money to continue all that great work they do at the center. It’s too bad we can’t expect the same on next year. They have to make that money, and a free concert isn’t a workable business model.

Hmm, I wonder what would happen if everyone present that night decided to give a $100 contribution? I’m not sure if it would be enough to justify another free concert, but it would go a long way toward us saying thanks for the memory.

My check is on the way.

Commission Split Raises Serious Doubts

I’m not stunned one bit that Durham’s Board of County Commissioners couldn’t decide on the person to replace Becky Heron. In a previous blog I stated that this group of dysfunctional leaders lacked the guts to appoint Hampton Denllinger. Despite the overwhelming endorsement of the party they all represent, two of the members voted for Wendy Jacobs and the other two voted for Pam Karriker.

Everyone expected Ellen Reckhow and Joe Bowser to stand behind Jacobs. The tie between Reckhow and Jacobs seems to be thicker than the blood normally found among folks in the same family. One is left to speculate about an allegiance that causes a person to vote in opposition of the clear intention of party leadership.

The wild card is Joe Bowser’s strong stance in supporting Jacobs. Unconfirmed rumors have leaked that Jacobs has promised to vote for Bowser as chair if she gets his support. I suppose we will have to wait and see what happens if Jacobs gets the nod. What is clear is the intense conflict between Reckhow and Michael Page. From all accounts, Reckhow is on a mission to unseat Page as chair of the board. Is the rift between Page and Reckhow is disturbing enough for Reckhow to form and allegiance with Bowser to oust Page?

The REV-elution obtained an email sent to Page from Reckhow through her county government email address. The email exposes the inner madness among members of the Board of County Commissioners and can be instructive in understanding why it has been difficult to replace Heron.

“Your anger has continued over the past few weeks. At the board meeting last Monday you turned your chair and your back to Joe and me such that we had to verbally interject ourselves to speak at the meeting (since you would not have seen a raised hand.) I learned from several citizens who watched the meeting on TV that they could not understand why you had your back to us during the meeting,” Reckhow writes.

“It did appear that you were not listening to the question that Joe and I asked since you closed out the discussion by saying that everything we raised had been discussed at the meeting,” she continues. “That was not the case! In fact we raised many new points. Usually, when a lot of questions get asked, an item is deferred to get answers. However, our questions were dismissed-showing a total lack of respect.”

It is significant to note that Reckhow perceives this as an issue with her and Bowser, not her Bowser and Howerton. It gets worse.

“What do you mean by ‘I can assure you that I am not through with your past actions?’ Please don’t threaten me. I could say the same thing to you since there are witnesses to a previous verbal tirade directed at me. I do not deserve to be treated the way you have treated me the past few months,” can you feel the tension.

Then comes the kicker. “Michael-I have been through more than you have concerning Durham County politics; you need to tone down your rhetoric if we are to move forward and serve the citizens of Durham County.”

One thing is clear, things are out of control. Reckhow may be justified for calling Page out for his management style. Who among us hasn’t dealt with a coworker who gets under our skin? As much as I understand dealing with personality conflicts, this goes deeper than he say she say crap. The rift between Reckhow, Page, Bowser and Howerton is seriously impeding county business.

Voters have a right to know if Bowser is pushing for Jacobs due to a promise made. If that is true, and Reckhow is a coconspirator in that maneuver, shouldn’t voters be a tad bit concerned about the implications of having a board with Bowser as the chair? Someone needs to press that question.
Howerton and Page don’t get off the hook. Their action raises serious concerns related to their ability to adhere to the interest of voters. The failure to give credence to the endorsement of Hampton Denllinger says more than the two votes they bring to the party. It says that they lack respect for the group that took time to consider who would best serve the citizens of Durham County.

It’s a dangerous rope to walk. Howerton and Page discounted the process taken altogether by voting for Pam Karriker who didn’t receive one vote from those representing the Democratic Party. What statement is sent to voters after no one on the board considered the intent of the party they represent?

The argument used to support Karriker is missing on many fronts. Howerton and Page were moved by Karriker’s promise not to seek the post during the next election. That argument supports the argument made on the Rev-elution in a previous blog-that board members fear appointing a person with the credentials to unseat them. Some may regard that as a way to dig out from under this pile of dung, but it fails due to the efforts of a notable citizen early in the game.

Many within the community, me being one, pressed the board to consider Chuck Watts to hold the seat for the remainder of the term. The hope was to convince Watts to take the seat with the caveat not to run during the next election. It’s the same offer made by Karriker. The difference is that Watts refused to place his name in the hat due to the Democratic endorsement process. It was a game that he didn’t want to play. Can’t say I blame him for that.

I respect Watts for standing by his principals and for refusing to get into the frail due to his support of Denllinger. Watts, like those within the Democratic Party, saw Denllinger as a good fit. Who in their right mind would discount the endorsement of the party? The answer is simple. Those who care little about what the masses think.

A number of questions need to be raised by voters. The good news is an election is coming soon. From where I stand today, we need to get rid of all of them.

Black Pastor's Stand to Ban Gay-Marriage: What Up With That?

Now I’m being told I’m not a Christian. I’ve been called a heretic and a disgrace. Shucks, I’ve been called things that I can’t print on this page. I can deal with being ostracized by the good ole boys and girls club of the Christian elite, but questioning the faith I love so much is stepping on butt whip territory.

“They aren’t Christian if people support same-sex marriage,” Donald Fozard, pastor of Mt. Zion Christian Church in Durham, claimed during a press conference to show African American support for House Bill 777/Senate Bill 106 (the anti-gay marriage amendment). Other speakers at the press conference included Kevin Daniels of the Frederick Douglas Foundation of North Carolina, Patrick Wooden of Upper Room Church of God and Christ in Raleigh, NC and Johnny Hunter of Cliffdale Community Church in Fayetteville, NC.

Things got crazy when Rep. Marcus Brandon (D-Guillford) brought attention to a recent poll from Elon University that shows 61% of African American living in North Carolina oppose or strongly oppose an amendment that would ban same-sex marriage. Fozard repeatedly called Brandon a “liar.”

Fozard’s comments follow a pro-amendment press conference on August 30, held by Rep Paul “Skip” Stam (R-Wake) during which Stam compared same-gender relationships to polygamy, pedophilia and incest. Conservatives are hoping that this issue will forge a relationship with African American voters that will severe the tight grip between African Americans and Democrats.

The strategy is a simple one. There is only one thing that goes deeper than black folk’s allegiance to the Democratic Party, and that is their faith. The religious conservatism of African Americans has long been divergent from the progressive political agenda of those who attend those churches. The rise of the mega-church movement can be, in part, linked to a union between a conservative evangelical political agenda and the charismatic worship experience of the African American faith tradition.

Fozard’s comments should surprise no one. His conservative theological agenda is instructive in gauging the radical departure the Black Church has taken in leading the charge in constructing a progressive theological agenda. One need only consider an article that appeared in the Independent Weekly on March 3, 2004.

"Faggots across the nation, heading churches. Homos on the pianos. Faggots in the choir. What kind of spirit is leading that church?" The Independent Weekly quoted him as he preached to 150 people after watching “The Passion”. “And now? Men with men, women with women? Let me remind you of Sodom and Gomorrah, That sin will bring fire from heaven. I tell the homosexual man: repent, turn and get a woman. I tell the woman who wants to get married: get yourself a man."

He then defines the difference between a true believer and those who play games with God. "The Reverend Al Sharpton says it doesn't matter who you sleep with?" he says. "I'll tell you one thing: the Reverend ain't no Reverend. All of them are running around saying it doesn't matter who you sleep with! They want that little 1 percent of faggots that go to vote."

Could this be our generation’s version of the Reconquist and the Crusades? The war of words hurled by African American evangelical Christians is one that forces a definition related to what it means to be a Christian. It is one thing to discuss and ponder the significance of these matters politically, but it is quite another when a person is questioned due to the position they take. One can be a Republican or Democrat and a Christian at the same time. But, according to Fozard and his cohorts, you can’t be a Christian if you support gay-marriage.

It’s troubling when people have an obsession with forcing others to think the way they do. The last I checked that’s why we have a Constitution in this country. It has something to do with protecting the rights, liberty and pursuit of happiness of all who call America home. I suppose, for some, those who decide to love a person of the same sex aren’t people. They shouldn’t be given rights because they forfeit being created in the image of God due to a decision they make. That’s what some Christians will tell you.

The last I checked, the Constitution is about protecting rights, not taking them away. It’s about shielding those who are different. Not all of us are Christians. Many cling to no faith claim. Does that make them less American, or, as Fozard would have you think, less of a person. I think not. America is a nation of free expression. We have the right to follow happiness in the way that speaks to our unique personalities.

Sorry Mr. Fozard. I am a heterosexual black man. I was born in Missouri. I am an American. I support the rights of those who love a person of the same gender. I believe in their right to get married if they desire living within a committed relationship that will be sanctioned legally. I will stand with them in that struggle. I do so not because I am gay, but because I am a Christian.

That may sound strange to those who claim you can’t be a Christian if you support gay rights, but, for me, you can’t be a Christian if you don’t. It all comes down to how you read what Jesus would have done.

Would he call them faggots, or give them a hug and call them brothers and sisters? I’ll take the hug.

Green Space Feeding On Old School Ways

“We act as if all of this is brand new,” Melanie Wilkerson says when discussing the labels used to describe food. “We capitalize on something that is not. Whatever is natural, whatever is organic, whatever is native, that is nothing new.”

Those labels cost big bucks. Shucks, a trip to Whole Foods will take your whole paycheck. It’s sad that it cost so much just to eat the right way. That’s why Wilkerson and her partner Kifu Faruq have teamed up with Tahz Walker and Christina Rivera Chapman of Tierra Negra for a fundraiser to be held on Friday, September 9th from 5-8pm. They hope to move food justice and food insecurity to the forefront of the food movement in Durham.


“Both of us come from a small black business tradition,” Faruq says when asked about the motivation behind Green Space Initiative, the company she and Wilkerson formed. “There was always someone in our house or in our family with a side hustle. Be it doing hair, doing nails or cooking food that they then turned into a lucrative business.”


Faruq and Wilkerson began thinking about creating their own side hustle in 2009. Faruq was doing clinical research at Duke and Wilkerson did hair at Perfection, a salon owned by her family. They wanted to quit their jobs by finding a way to pay their bills while supporting the community at the same time. The inspiration came when they picked up two magazines-Mother Jones and Yes.

On the cover of both magazines was Will Allen, founder and CEO of Growing Power. Allen, the son of a sharecropper and a former professional basketball player, has worked to transform communities by supporting people from diverse backgrounds and the environments in which they live through the development of community food systems.

“We wondered why couldn’t we do this in North East Central Durham,” Faruq says. “Why couldn’t we help create an alternative food system that is for people of color, run by black and brown folks and our leadership comes from people who are most affected by food insecurity and food scarcity?”

Allen’s work in Milwaukee and Chicago reminded the couple of how their families made the ends meet in the 70s. Wilkerson grew up in Durham on Plum St. Every family living in her neighborhood had a garden.

“They had no idea of what it meant to go without food,” Wilkerson says. “They only brought sugar, coffee, things to clean the house and meat, and sometimes there was someone who still lived out in rural Durham who would slaughter the meat and bring it in.”

Faruq’s mother moved to Durham from California as a vegan. ”She wasn’t going to be able to get tofu, beans, organic rice cornmeal and oatmeal,” Faruq says. “So, she contacted Tree of Life and told them she had to have food delivered to her.” She discovered others with the same needs-Muslims, Jehovah’s Witness, Amish and people from Jewish communities who wanted to maintain their kosher lifestyle-and formed a buying club.

Faruq and Wilkerson formed Green Space Initiative to connect urban Durham communities back to their agricultural roots. So much has changed since life in the 70s in Durham. Processed foods and meat laced with hormones has helped rouse increases in obesity, diabetes and heart disease among African American, Latino and Native Americans. Green Space hopes to create an infrastructure to manage gardens within Durham’s urban community. The fundraiser will help support that effort. The end result is affordable food not laced with pesticides.

Wilkerson and Faruq have come a long way since they saw Allen on the cover of those magazines. Faruq’s Kukia's Cookies is the rave among those in love with her organic, chocolate chip, lavender cookies. Wilkerson has a catering company-Chow Chow- which she describes as Diaspora inspired soul food. “It’s everything from Soul Food to Thai Food,” Faruq says. “It’s food from wherever black folk have been.”

They have called on friends to help support their vision for connecting community gardens. Thomas Justin Robinson, Shirlette Ammons and Shana Tucker will perform at the fundraiser. Tickets are $20. A cadre of local chefs will create a menu using vegetables and herbs from the garden and meat from local farmers. It will take place at the community garden at 2158 Charles St. For tickets call Kifu Faruq at 919-949-4195.

I’m planning to get my vegetables and herbs at Green Space. It’s cheaper than Whole Foods. Besides, it reminds me of my daddy’s garden. I didn’t have to pay two bucks for a pound of tomatoes back in the day. I pulled it from our garden.

They call that old school.

Living By the 3-P's

I live by what I call the 3-P’s. In dealing with group dynamics, never, and I mean never, allow for decisions to be made out of personal differences or political divides. I try to remain focused on policy-the P that matters

I learned that lesson at the age of 23 while serving as the pastor of the Sugar Grove Baptist Church in Columbia, Missouri. I arrived at the church one day for what I thought was a normal business meeting. Instead, I was cornered into a fight between the old establishment and those who had united with the church since my arrival. The bad news is those on my side weren’t invited to the party.

I sat and listened as they chastised me for moving the church away from what it had always been-a small family church hidden from view by the long gravel road and trees at the end of Rolling Hills Road. I was too young to understand what was happening to me. It was personal and political. What happened had nothing to do with my leadership style of ability to draw people to the church. I was condemned for being successful while undermining the comforts of those who had made the church their home.

Years of maturity have taught me that most battles are about something deeply personal or political. It’s sad that we can expect the same within congregations . You would think that all of that teaching about being humble and becoming a servant would sway the way church folks handle their business. Sorry to say that the games of the church make the wars between Republicans and Democrats look like a tussle between toddlers over who gets to throw the ball next.

It’s my devotion to the rule of the 3-P’s that compels me to stand up in defense for one of my brothers in ministry. Michael Page is the Pastor of First United Antioch Baptist Church. He is also the Chair of the Durham Board of County Commissioners. In a recent blog I declared the severe dysfunction in the way board members relate to one another. I maintained that their inability to move past two of my P’s-personal and political-is seriously hindering their ability to make decisions best for the citizens of Durham County.

One can forgive the political games played by politicians. I can even turn the other cheek when a few stones are thrown at personal integrity. What gets under my overly thick skin is when a person challenges the credibility of one of my colleagues in ministry. Them are fighting words, as the old folks say.
The first attack came from one of Joe Bowser’s dedicated supporters. Lois Murphy has attacked me on numerous occasions after my questioning of Bowser’s competency as a member of the Board of County Commissioners. She has blasted my work in ministry. She is an expert at making things personal. I laugh it off and walk away knowing she doesn’t know me or my work well enough to walk down that street. Negro please!

Like I said, I have tough skin, but back off Rev. Page. Murphy crossed that line drawn in the sand when she questioned Page as a Christian and a minister. She took her stabs on the blog “Bull City Rising” in a blog that quotes commentary from the REV-elution. Her statement appears in the comment section of the blog “Civitas investigation alleges conflict of interest, open meeting law violation in DSS change”

“Unfortunately, Commissioner Page has reduced himself to spreading and endorsing rumors although he claims he is a Christian,” she wrote. “He of all people should know the power of the “tongue” and how the word of God tells us to chasten it. In addition, he should also know that God wants us to spread brotherly love not rumors and hate.”

Murphy then does the very thing the good books talks about. She looks at the spec in Page’s eye while failing to consider the boulder in her own. “It saddens me that Commissioner Page and Kenney are not interested in the truth although both claim to be Christians. Thus, it is not an anomaly why the world is in such turmoil. I am sure neither of them consulted with God regarding their input in matter. I am hopeful in my lifetime blacks will stop being used to destroy blacks.” What is this, two preachers for the price of one day?

It gets worse when she digs up a rumor certain to put her in danger of going to the Hell she talks so much about. “Certainly, there are rumors regarding both Commissioner Page’s and Kenney’s preferences, but they are just rumors. Aren’t they?”

I did a double take after reading those words. No she didn’t! She pulled a move from Hip-Hop by accusing me and my brother in ministry of being gay. It’s an old tactic used in the African American community to destroy the reputation of a person when the accuser lacks the words or intellect to make a statement that requires words bigger than three syllables. It’s the type of play pen attack that separate those with no argument from those who do the best they can to rise above those two P’s-personal and political.

They say birds of a feather flock together. Murphy and Bowser are two hawks searching for anyone who refuses to play by their rules. I could excuse Murphy’s comments as passionate pleas hoped to defend the integrity of her bird mate, but it is difficult for me to overlook Bowser’s attack of my brother in ministry and Commission Chair.

“He’s a flat-faced liar, and he’s a disgrace to the clergy for saying that,” Bowser told the Herald-Sun after being told comments were made by Page that suggested he had meddled in hiring decision at DSS. My problem isn’t with Bowser defending his integrity. My issue is with anyone who takes a stab at a person’s spirituality and work in ministry.

There’s too much of that going around in Durham. From a homophobic candidate for mayor quick to label a person gay for standing behind gays and lesbians, to those in public office bent on lashing out at those who they simply can’t get along with. The blogsphere is filled with personal attacks that have nothing to do with the P that matters. People are being called gay, liars, cheaters and questioned for their take on Christianity. The only time any of that becomes a matter of public concern is when it gets in the way of that one P that matters-policy.

The upcoming election will force voters to consider more than the important P. Sadly; citizens should consider how personal attacks and politics gone wild can get in the way of another important P- productivity.

In other words, grow up or get out of the way.

"The Help": Slavery by Another Name

“My mama was a maid, my grandmother was a maid and my great grandmother was a slave,” is a paraphrased line from the beginning of the movie “The Help”. It’s a line among others that thrust viewers back to a time not too long ago. It reminds them of days when nannies were used to raise white folk’s children and take care of those household chores beneath white women bred in the ways of high echelon.

It’s a line that speaks to the colossal disconnect between white and black women. White women may have a hard time dealing with their mean ways from the past. Black women watch the movie fuming due to the conjuring of memories from not so long ago. “The Help” is not about how race was used as a weapon to disconnect people way back in the bad ole days. It is about the discord between black and white women in our own lifetime.

Yes, it is about the treatment of our parents and grandparents when we were old enough to remember the tension on their faces when they returned home from long days of feeding into the insecurities of white women who used words to discipline them into submission. The movie strikes a chord due to the work done by kinfolk to feed their children and send them off to the university to secure an education to end the cycle of abuse.

Yes, it stirs all of those memories, but there is a point that goes even deeper. I have listened to white folks talk about how Ms. Sally was like a member of the family. I’ve heard countless comments about how Aunt Becky meant more than mama did. The recollections from back in the day are glamorized in a way that leaves those who speak seduced by their own denial. Ms. Sally was not a member of the family. Ms. Sally and Aunt Becky, and the countless other black women who served white families, were no different than the slaves who preceded them.

Kathryn Stockett’s book “The Help” reminds me of another book written by a white woman. In 2003, Valerie Martin unveiled the drama on a sugar plantation near New Orleans during the 1830s. Her novel “Property” tells the story of Manon Gaudet, the wife of the plantation’s owner, and Sarah, the slave Manon was given as a wedding present and who she has brought with her from the city. The private furor is played out against the backdrop of civil unrest and slave rebellion.

Both authors are white women. Both deal with the tautness between white and black women. Both deal with movements to undo the injustice hindering the lives of black people. More than any of that, the two novels expose a deeper truth related to the role of nannies-they served in a way in common with slavery.

That line early in the movie reveals the way black people internalized the work they performed in 1960 America. In their minds, things had not changed. They were not members of those white families. They continued slavery under different terms. The men remained enslaved as sharecroppers and in performing other task considered beneath the white men who called them boys. Women worked in the big house for the women who used them to maintain the image of class privilege.

The movie exposes how black people remain enslaved, which lends credence to all the hostility felt by colored folks who have issue with the movie. The Oscar buzz frustrates those doing their best to break free from Mastah’s whip. The movie reminds us of how white capital can be built on the backs of black folk’s pain. The stories of black women need to be heard, but why can’t they be the recipient of the cash made after the story is told.

Both books are about the assumptions of class privilege. Beyond the telling of the stories that appear in theaters is the story of how the story gets financed. It’s about who decides what gets told, and how often stories aren’t told due to the lack of power among those who have a story to tell. You can call it what you want, but that, at the core, is another form of slavery.

Slavery is any institution that allows a group to advance on the backs of those who lack power. Slavery is about a lack of power and privilege. We see it when people are forced to take certain jobs due to a lack of power. It happens whenever a set population is found begging for the crumbs at the table of opportunity.

Stockett told the stories of black women and sold 5 million copies of her book. It wasn’t her story; it was their story to tell. Sounds like slavery to me.

“My mama was a maid, my grandmother was a maid and my great grandmother was a slave,” Hollywood is a slave master. The crack of the whip can be heard if you listen. I don’t blame Stockett. I blame a system that fails to acknowledge the voices of those who have a story to tell.

In 2011, white folks continue to make money on the backs of black folk’s pain. You can call that capitalism or opportunity in the making. When those on the plantation can’t break free of the system that keeps them enslaved, that is slavery.

It’s time for an uprising!

Durham Attempts to Model Harlem Children Zone: No Kool-Aid for Me

I’m not ready to drink the Kool-Aid. I simply don’t buy into the hype. From all accounts, replicating the model that has changed Harlem is the best thing since sliced bread met ham. It’s another example of how folks are quick to duplicate success and other places rather than create from the strengths they have at home.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big Geoffrey Canada fan. His Harlem Children’s Zone has revitalized a community left for dead after the emergence of crack cocaine. The hub of black artist expression was known more for drugs, crime and low academic performance than for being the home of the renaissance that changed the way people think about being young, gifted and black.

The Harlem Children’s Zone has garnered national exposure for Canada who is the subject of the documentary “Waiting for Superman”, and the model of transformation used by the Obama administration. People in Durham have taken a deep swig of the Kool-Aid. A few took the trip to Harlem, came back with talk of replication, and have garnered enough support to hire an Executive Director and receive money from notable foundations to recreate the magic of Harlem.

As much as I love what Canada has done with the Harlem Children’s Zone, it’s critical that folks from across the nation consider the dynamics that led to success in Harlem before jumping on the truck with hopes of seeing the same thing in their backyard. You can’t pack all of that charisma in a box. A changed community isn’t a prize wedged in the middle of the Lucky Charms.

Durham has a fascination with chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Back in 1999, a group of leaders took a trip to Minnesota and returned with the fix all formula for Durham. The public was told the Youth Coordinating Board would remedy the duplication of service delivery and lack of collaboration that resulted in youth falling through the cracks.

It didn’t take long for that vision to end on top of the pile with Durham’s other botched initiatives. The saddest part of the hunt to find that gold is the way the process exposes a much deeper issue related to the way things get done in Durham. What Durham needs isn’t a program from another place. What Durham needs is to face the truth regarding how the culture of this community makes it difficult to replicate what works in other places.

Durham leaders have functioned like the proverbial chicken without a head. Missing is serious dialogue regarding how past efforts failed to achieve promised outcomes. What happened with the Youth Coordinating Board? What went wrong with the North East Durham Reinvestment initiative? A close gaze at each will unfold a number of common elements that should be taken into account.

To begin, the Youth Coordinating Board, the North East Central Durham Reinvestment initiative and East Durham Children’s Zone all attempt to do the same thing. Ultimately, the purpose and design of each is the same. Each addresses the need to rethink human service delivery by connecting services from the beginning of life through adulthood. Each addresses the need for greater collaboration. Each has a massive price attached to fulfilling the vision.

Canada is what makes the East Children’s Zone stand out from among the rest. He has the endorsement of the President, a media campaign and a documentary to boast the credibility of his work. This despite reports that the Harlem Children’s Zone hasn’t proven, yet, that it is working. Many have questioned the validity of attempting to replicate a model that is so expensive to maintain.

The Brookings Institution has questioned the credibility of using the HCZ as a national model. The Brookings team writes:

Our issue is not with the HCZ as a philanthropically supported endeavor to improve the lives of children in Harlem, but with the use of the HCZ as evidence that investments in wraparound support services and neighborhood improvements are a cost effective approach to increasing academic achievement. In an era of stress on public budgets, we think there should be good evidence that an expensive new approach works before it is scaled up and widely implemented with taxpayer funds. Our findings and our view are that the HCZ does not provide that evidence. Our quarrel is not with the HCZ but with the evidence for the Obama administration’s request to Congress for $210 million to replicate the HCZ in 20 communities across the nation.

There are a number of points that need to be addressed in Durham. To begin, this is not Harlem. The dynamics of Harlem are different. Harlem is a borough with both a historical and cultural identity of its own. People have rallied in support of Canada due to Harlem’s position as the hub of African American life and culture. Harlem is more than a section of a city; it is the community that epitomizes the emergence of African Americans as intellectuals with creative gifts.

Beyond that, there is no Canada heading the charge of Durham’s children zone. The structure of Durham’s version is limited by the influence of local government and the barriers created when decisions are made void of a clear understanding of what the community needs and feels. Durham isn’t modeling the Harlem Children’s Zone. Durham is modeling business as usual. What that means is finding loads of money to throw at a problem while failing to engage in a real conversation regarding why that hasn’t worked in the past.

Harlem was prepared for change due to its role in ushering the mind of the new Black Man/Woman. You can’t model that by throwing dollars in the direction of a problem. Change begins when people get tired. When they get tired they move.

It’s the same ole, same ole in Durham. Will we ever learn our lesson?

Dellinger Endorsed by Democratic Leaders: What Will County Commissioners Do?

Attorney Hampton Dellinger has received the endorsement from Durham Democratic Party leaders to fill the vacant seat of former Commissioner Becky Heron. Heron, 83, resigned earlier this month due to health issues. It seems like a done deal, but I wouldn’t open the champagne.

Dellinger beat out three other nominees: former planning commissioner Wendy Jacobs, social worker Anita Daniels and Duke University professor Will Wilson. The recommendation comes from members of the Democratic Party’s executive committee which includes officers, elected officials, and precinct leaders. Votes were weighed based on the size of the precinct. In the first round Dellinger earned 248.5 points compared to 139.5 for Jacobs.

It seems like a done deal, but, like I said, don’t open the bubbly. The final decision belongs to the remaining members of the Board of County Commissioners and they aren’t obligated to take the recommendation of the Democratic Party.

So, why, you may ask, would members of the Commission vote against the body they are affiliated with? It would be comparable to taking a few jabs at mama and papa after they remind you of who pays the bills. As mind-boggling as that may seem, don’t be shocked if this all ends with a 2 to 2 split.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the Durham County Commission resembles a dysfunctional family. It looks like a family with a father with a paranoid personality disorder and a passive aggressive mother. The children have taken on the personalities of their parents-one has a borderline personality disorder and the other has a narcissistic personality disorder. I’m just saying it’s hard to get things done when family members are stuck with contending with their own inner demons.

It all reminds me of the playground antics from my days in elementary school. “I don’t like her so I’m not gonna play with her,” comes very close to the way the narcissistic child operates. “I won’t vote for this person if he or she is behind the recommendation.” You must be kidding me. Somebody needs to call this group to the office for a tough talk about how the needs of the community outweigh personal bullshit.

Sorry for cursing, but do you feel me? What do you say when one of the Commissioners decides to run for Mayor due to personal beef with the current Mayor. “I’m gonna beat him up cause he didn’t play the way I told him!” I could spend months in dealing with the drama of the Commission member who has issue with the police department for failing to resolve a problem with a neighbor who, according to the Commissioner, has damaged both home and automobile, placed poison in shrubbery, cut wires to a security camera and placed chemicals in the air conditioner causing severe eye damage to a child.

The lack of credible evidence seemingly tied the hands of local law enforcement. Not saying nothing is going on. Maybe there is a legitimate conspiracy to undermine our local Commissioner, but bullies do what bullies do best. When no one listens beat them up!

Maybe it would help if we forced our leaders to get therapy. This Board of Commissioners could sure use some help with wading through the water of their personal problems with each other. The he say she say mess can seriously undermine the integrity of the work they do in making a community better than when they took office.

What a load to carry. An insecure member may feel overwhelmed with placing a person like Dellinger on the Commission. His vita is enough to scare the residue out of a person barely holding on to the last bit of self-esteem left. If the Yale Law degree doesn't scare you, his 2008 candidacy for the nomination for Lieutenant Governor of North Carolina will. If that doesn't do it, his holding a state government post under Mike Easley will.

To say he can beat anyone on the current Commission is an understatement. The truth is there are a number of people who emerged from this process with the juice to oust a couple of the current members. All of that insecurity may be too much for this family of dysfunction to deal with. They may be crazy enough to allow their personal need to be seen and heard to overturn the vote of their own party.

Stay tuned folks. Until then, maybe we should give them all a hug. People craving attention need lots of hugs and affirmation.

Give me a freaking break.

Lessons From The Bus

I took a ride on a bus the other day. I hiked the short distance from my loft at West Village to the parking lot less than a football field away. It was there that I jumped onboard the Bull City Connector and made my way to Whole Foods near Ninth Street. I picked up a few items in the produce section and ran to the corner of Broad Street and Main just in time to catch the bus headed back downtown. It didn’t cost me anything.

Yeah, I got a bit heated when the driver stopped at the Shell Station to pick up a few munchies. It’s hard to complain when the ride is free. I looked at the only other person riding the bus. It didn’t seem to trouble him that our chauffer took a break in the middle of our journey. His lack of concern forced me to back off from the emotions of the moment and deal with my own ego. The swanky side of my makeup was creeping to the top. I sat back and chilled as I reflected on the gift of the quick ride down the street.

Normally I take the 20 minute walk to pick up my items for the day. I considered walking, but dang it was too darn hot and my feet hurt. When I saw that big orange bus gliding in my direction I waited and jumped on board. Did I mention it didn’t cost me anything?

Walking and catching the free bus is part of a lifestyle change that I’m embracing with passion. If I could I would do away with the car thing altogether. The cost for petro combined with the impact on the environment has me rethinking the comforts of cars loaded down with all the creature comforts. My two feet serve me well, and the bus comes in handy every now and then.

The trip back from my Whole Food excursion was interesting. I took a phone call from my friend Mariann Aalda. Aalda is known for being the first full time African American female soap opera star. She portrayed DiDi Banister in The Edge of Night. She is also known for being the daughter of Redd Foxx and Della Reese in the sitcom “The Royal Family”. I’ll never forget the scene where she kissed O.J. Simpson on the HBO series First & 10. The fact that she played his wife makes it worse.

She shared with me her thoughts on the new movie “The Help”. I normally don’t use my phone in public spaces, but the discussion held me captive. It felt strange having the talk on a bus. It made me think of the women portrayed in the movie. They had to ride the bus to get to work. We talked about our mothers. Most people of color have stories of mothers, grandmothers, aunts, cousins or sisters who cleaned the home of white people.

Aalda loved the movie. Her review was a stark contrast to her views on Tyler Perry. Then it happened. I noticed the people on the bus. Most of them were students from Duke who made their way on the bus somewhere between Duke Hospital and Whole Foods. It felt strange having the conversation within earshot of those far removed from the context of the movie.

Aalda mentioned the dense air at the movie theater due to the older white women who filled the space. The story took place during their lifetime. It must be hard sitting in places that ignite some thought from those days when black and white folks remained distant both in space and way of life. I imagined that the distinction between me and others on the bus has been lessened since the time capsule exposed in the movie.

I said goodbye just before my stop. “Things have really changed,” I whispered upon taking further notice of the people on the bus. Mostly white, obviously not poor, holding backs filled with books, untainted by the labels connected with riding a bus. It was one of those moments within a moment that causes one to exhale. I did.


The bus is for poor people. It’s for those who lack the funds to afford a car, auto insurance and the cost for registration. It’s a haven for criminals and welfare recipients. The bus is for “those people”. Those being jargon used to refer to anyone other than us. This trip was different. In that space and time came the budding of a re-defined community. Small space can do that. It finds people joined together by a common need-to get from point A to point B.

Isn’t it funny how that happens? The image of black women working for white people was transformed into the celebration of new place and time. Those riding the bus were not limited by hue, caste or credentials. Some road because they had no option but to ride the bus. Others road because it’s our way of minimizing the burden on our globe and pocketbooks.

Did I mention it didn’t cost me anything?

Why Can't We Talk About Race

The UK has endured more than 30 years of race riots. Themost recent riots and the 1981 Brixton riots

Have you ever watched a rat trapped in a corner? That sucker will do whatever it takes to break free. Sort of like what’s happening in the UK. Curtis Blow said it best, “I’m gonna lose my mind, up in here, up in here.”

The global community is awestruck by imagines of youth taking their rage out in the streets. The media has depicted them as a lost generation fuming due to economic policies .What is missing in most reports from the BBC and the Associated Press is the race of the rioters.

“The argument that this doesn’t have anything to do with expenditure cuts or economics doesn’t stand up to the evidence,” Matthew Goodwin, politics professor at the University of Nottingham, told the Associated Press. “If that’s true, then what we have here are hundreds of young, crazed kids simply acting irrationally. I don’t think that’s the case.” Goodwin, and others, fails to mention what trigged the riots.

The BBC cut short an interview about the riots with Darcus Howe, a former member of the British Black Panther Party. “They have been stopping and searching young blacks for no reason at all,” Howe told a BBC reporter. “I have a grandson; he’s an angel.”

Howe, who was born in Trinidad, defied the reporter after his claim that the riots are about police racism. “I don’t call it rioting. I call it an insurrection of the masses of the people. It is happening in Syria, it is happening in Clapham, it has happening in Liverpool, it is happening in Port of Spain, Trinidad.”

The reporter contested Howe’s claim that the police actions justified the riots. “Where were you in 1981 in Brixton,” he lashed back in anger. “Have some respect for an old West Indian negro’ and to stop accusing him of being a rioter”

Howe’s mention of the 1981 riots in Brixton helped place these riots within a cultural context. The Brixton riot was a mêlée between the Metropolitan Police and protesters in Lambeth, South London on April 10-12, 1981. The worse of the riot took place on April 11th. Called “Bloody Saturday” by Time Magazine, close to 280 police were injured and 45 from the public were injured. More than 100 vehicles were burned, including 56 police cars. 150 buildings were damaged, with 30 burned. 82 people were arrested, and more than 5,000 people were involved.

Brixton was an area facing serious social and economic problems. As the UK endured a crippling recession, no one suffered more than the African-Caribbean community. High unemployment, poor housing and high crime fueled enormous tension.

In January 1981, there was a house fired that was believed to have been a racially motivated arson. A number of black youth were killed, and, after the police investigation was criticized for failing to uncover the murderers, a parade for “Black People’s Day of Action” ended in a confrontation with the police

The British National Party has been quick to use the riots to stir hatred. “Seeing the lawlessness which was mainly perpetuated by one race allowed by the police to spiral so far out of control that large parts of our country resembled a Third World nation riven by civil strife, allowed so that members of that ethnic community don’t feel discriminated against any more than they usually do, and then comparing that with the treatment of indigenous Britons who gathered solely to protect their communities from these rampaging lawless thugs, British people may be forgiven for thinking that there are one set of rules for us and another set for them,” the Neo-Nazi group posted on its website.

“As the indigenous people of Britain and the peaceful, law-abiding and hard-working members of immigrant communities have found out by the events of this week, the reality of law and order in a supposedly civil and peaceful country is just a Lib/Lab/Con illusion and lie. Their policies over decades have directly led to the lawlessness and anarchy on our streets and the impotence of our police forces, leaving good and upright citizens from all communities the job of physically defending their homes, businesses, families and communities. For them and us, there is no law and order unless we impose it ourselves,” the National British Party continues on their website.


Like it or not, this is a conversation about race. There is little reported related to the police brutality that led to the riots. Little is written and reported about the history of racial tension in the UK. Maybe it is easier to make disgruntled youth the primary story. Maybe we feel better when we make the story about young people mad because they can’t find work, or even more, maybe it’s the result of a decaying society. Then we can blame the press, music and parents for the actions of young folks.

But, when we open the can of racial hostility we have to face something deeper. We have to face a truth that glares at us from across the pond. The truth is things are the same wherever you go. There are angry black kids all over the world, and maybe, just maybe, we could see the same result over here in the good ole USA.

If you don’t know, you betta ask somebody.

I Heart Chocolate

It’s better than a scene from one of my favorite movies-“Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”. I prefer Gene Wilder over Jonny Depp. Depp’s depiction of Charlie takes the fun out of chocolate.


I feel like one of the kids who unwrapped a Wonka bar to win a Golden Ticket. Off to the chocolate factory I go! “We have so much time, and so little to do. Wait! Stop! Reverse that,” remember that line from the movie.


Imagine this, fifteen chocolate vendors inside one building while people dance to music. The thought of two of my favorite things in one place at the same time seems as farfetched as the adventures in the movie. Brace yourself! It’s happening within walking distance from where I live.


Kokyu BBQ truck will offer Cocoa Braised Brisket. Dang Good Dogs will have a hot dog with chocolate chilly. Did I say fifteen vendors with trucks on the outside and tables on the inside and music thumping and people strutting. You better get there!

Cocoa Cinnamon, Kukia’s Cookies, Locopops, The Parlour, KoKyu, The Chocolate Door, Berenbaum’s, Pearl Gray Frozen Custard, Bike Coffee, and Parlez-Vous Crepe are a few of the venders who will be present at I (HEART) CHOCOLATE. It’s a chocolate lover’s dream with dancing. The dancing is optional.

I’m going to chomp on those Kukia cookies. The first time I devoured one of the organic, lavender, chocolate chip thangs my tongue went into a coma. Triangle organizers Jeff and King will team up with Casbah of Durham on Friday, August 19th to host this event to bring attention to my favorite aphrodisiac.

Food trucks will take over the parking lot next to Casbah at 1007 West Main Street. Inside those vendors will please us with their culinary artistry. Willy Wonka can’t touch this.

The ‘chocolate bazaar” will be accompanied by the sounds of disc jockey, are you ready for this, Chocolate Thunder. The Thunder will do his usual blending of sounds from around the world. There’s nothing like a sugar high to get your feet moving.

I have a week to prepare for the night. I’m working out twice a day to offset the poundage certain to come after I do my share of damage. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem since I can dance the chocolate away after each cookie eaten.

I’ve got my Golden Ticket. Hope you can join me. Those tickets will sell for five bucks. I’ll be there after hanging out at the Brightleaf Square to listen to live music with Swift Creek. It’s my Friday evening hang out. Free live music at the Square every Friday beginning at 7pm. The chocolate factory opens at 9 and won’t close until 2 am.

Willy Wonka says it best. “A little nonsense, now and then, is relished by the wisest men.”

Hunting For Negroes in Mississippi

Deryl Dedmon, Jr., right, could face two life sentences in connection with the killing. John Aaron Rice, left, has been charged with simple assault.


From all accounts, they went looking for a black man to kill. On our day of worship, Sunday, two carloads of white teenagers drove to Jackson, Mississippi to make a statement. It all ended with the brutal death of James Craig Anderson, a 49-year-old auto plant worker.

Anderson was standing in the parking lot at a hotel near his car when a gang of teens allegedly beat him repeatedly while yelling “Nigger” and “White Power!”, according to those who witnessed the act. Robert Shuler Smith, Hinds County district attorney, says the gang climbed into their Ford F250 green pickup truck, floored the gas, and drove over Anderson, killing him.

Smith says the murder was racially motivated. What the criminals didn’t know was that the hotel surveillance camera captured the murder on videotape. Officials say the gang was led by 18-year-old Deryl Dedmon, Jr., of Brandon, Mississippi.


"This was a crime of hate. Dedmon murdered this man because he was black," Smith told CNN. CNN released the footage of the surveillance tape. "The evidence will show that." CNN asked Smith if he thought the intent was to actually hurt and kill a black person, Smith responded: "No doubt about it. They were going out to look for a black victim to assault, and in this case, even kill."

As the teens were partying and drinking miles away from Jackson that night, Dedmon told friends they should leave, saying "let's go fuck with some niggers," according to police accounts. Then, the hoodlums climbed into Dedmon's green truck and a white SUV Cherokee, and drove 16 miles to the western edge of Jackson, a predominantly black area.

"This is the first business that you get to coming off the highway and so that was the first person that was out here and vulnerable," says Smith.

The videotape obtained by CNN shows the teens pulling into the parking lot, stopping where Anderson is standing and then going back and forth between their cars and Anderson. Police say this is when the beating took place. After the beating the teens piling in the white SUV left and some jumped into the green truck.

The videotape then shows Anderson staggering toward the truck. The truck rushes ahead, running over Anderson while continuing to speed away from the scene. After the incident, Dedmon was heard boasting and laughing about killing a nigger. “I ran that nigger over,” Dedmon allegedly said to the teens in the white SUV on his cell phone.

Dedmon is thin, weighing only 130 pounds, and short -- at 5 feet. He has been charged with murder and now faces a possible double life sentence. During a bond hearing his attorney told the court he saw nothing to back up the "racial allegations." A second teen, 18-year-old John Aaron Rice, has been charged with simple assault for participating in the beating. What about the thugs in the other vehicle? Why haven’t they been charged, and why is Rice only being charged with simple assault?

Locally, people are outraged. “That one person(s) can brutally, heinously, inhumanely take the life of another, with such unadulterated, hateful premeditation and then celebrate it is unspeakable,” says Cheryl A. Kirk-Duggan, professor of Religion at Shaw University Divinity School. “I have no words. My soul, my being vacillates from nausea to deep wailing, ancient moaning rooted in the Maafa, the Middle passage. My soul simultaneously asks, "How long O Lord, How Long," and "Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabachthani!" At this moment too numb to be enraged, my heart aches for James Craig Anderson, for his family and friends. What allows, what serves as a catalyst that gives teenagers permission to do something so horrific in 2011?”

Yes, this is a question for people of faith to ponder. After all we, those who believe in the worth of every life, have done to move past the words and ways of separation. After all that has been done to lift the youth of this generation past the idiotic decisions that frustrated the dream for a better world. After all of that, we have to face this-again.

“It becomes apparent that even in 2011 black life has no value in the “America melting pot,” because we can be murdered by white teens for sport,” says James Blackwell, a 21-year-old graduate student majoring in history. “We live in a nation as the hunted.”

So true James, so true. Time to sing an old song-“We shall overcome, someday.”

The REV-elution to Discuss Sex at Black Theater Festival

On tomorrow, Friday, August 5, 2011, I will take the quick trip to Winston-Salem, NC for the Black Theater Festival. At noon, I will team up with Mariann Aalda and Iona Morris for a 90 minute talk back symposium entitled “Good Sex/ Bad Sex and Safe Sex”. Aalda and Morris are at the festival to present M.O.I.S.T., a play depicting the lives and struggles of women grappling with menopause, life after divorce and that thing called sex.

I first met Aalda and Morris at the Black Theater Festival when they were there to perform “3 Black Chics”. Since then, they have reworked the play that is a festival favorite. It now comes with a safe sex message. Aalda contacted me to participate in the 90 minute talk due to the lengthy conversations we have had related to greeting space for conversations about faith and sex. We get our chance to do just that tomorrow at noon.

We will talk about: When is the best time for the first time? Is there a difference between having sex and making love? What’s God got to do with it? A discussion of sex from a religious and spiritual context and safety first.


My two novels, “Preacha’ Man” and “Backslide” delve deep into the internal struggles facing men and women who lead the people of God. By stepping into that deep water that no one wants to come and swim, I have attempted to force a conversation that many are afraid to address. Sorry folks, we have to talk about sex.

A few years back I wrote an article that I submitted to ESSENCE Magazine. It followed an article written by a woman scorned due a relationship with her pastor. I felt it prudent to write from the perspective of a man who has travelled in those sacred shoes for over 30 years. Not the scorning of women part; the minister part. ESSENCE decided not to publish the work, so, I’m presenting it here for the first time.

Things have changed for me sense I wrote it. I’m still single, but in a great relationship. The lesson still has bearing for those who try to make sense of what to do when the flame burns! Enjoy
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She stepped into my office with every intention of enticing me. I could see it in her eyes-that look just before the first kiss. Her wrap around skirt accented her firm body. Her voice was not the usual sanctified tone that came with those changed by the power of the Spirit. Her walk reminded me of the lure of a fashion model. She was on a mission, and the assignment was me.

She was new to the congregation. It was a Wednesday evening, and I had just completed Bible study. As always, I was met with a barrage of questions following the class. She waited patiently as I did the best I could to address each issue. She waited with a glare. I couldn’t help but notice her despite the large crowd. She asked to speak to me privately. I could sense trouble coming.

“My name is Mary,” she whispered in my ear. “I was driving when something drew me to this building. I don’t understand what it was, but I think I’ve been drawn to you.” Her words attracted me. There was something about her look that made it difficult for me to focus on things Holy.

I wanted her. I could tell that she sensed my weakness. I wanted to believe she was attracted to the church by the Spirit. I wanted to believe that God had created a way for her to find me, that our meeting was not by chance, but a plan orchestrated by God.

It was getting late. The door to my office was closed. I could hear the chatter of those who had attended the Bible study. They were departing the church, leaving me to fend with the seduction alone.

“So, why did you ask to speak with me,” I knew the answer, but grappled with keeping things on a professional playing field. “Was there something I said in the Bible study that triggered your request?”

“There’s this guy I used to date,” she began. “We were perfect for one another. He was everything I needed in a man if it weren’t for one thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked, believing the conversation was taking a turn in the right direction.

“He couldn’t satisfy me in bed,” she repositioned her legs, exposing her red underwear. “Pastor, is it wrong for me to leave a man because he can’t please me in bed? Is it wrong for me to seek another man to give me what he can’t?”

I paused long enough for her to know the question had startled me. “You can’t help what you feel,” I answered. “What matters is what you do with what you feel.”

“What do you do when you feel something?” she snapped back

“I pray for strength”

“What do you do when prayer isn’t enough?”

“I run from the situation”

“What happens if the situation runs after you?”

“You stop and deal with your weakness,” I answered. “You ask yourself, why is this a temptation? You ask yourself is it worth everything that you have to endure after the sun rises.” I was talking my way through the struggle.

It disturbed me that I was frazzled. We’re taught that ministers possess a level of strength that stands as a model for others. Ministers are challenged to lead the people by their example. No temptation is too strong for them to overcome. That’s what we’re taught. They stand before the people as representations as success. They are more than flesh and blood. They are illustrations of the benefits of living the walk of faith.

As strong as I wanted to be, my time behind closed doors reminded me of how vulnerable I was to the attraction of a beautiful woman. It was after my separation from my wife. The word had spread that I was free. With that word came something I wasn’t prepared to endure-singleness.

I was married at the age of 20. For close to 20 years, I stayed married to the same woman. I led churches in Missouri and North Carolina. I believed in the oracles of my faith. I regarded the institution of marriage as one of the strengths of the Church. Marriage was the goal. I regarded sex outside of marriage as the demon that undermined the stability of the community.

I believed in marriage, and I wanted mine to last. It didn’t. Over the years my wife and I grew further apart. It’s one of the consequences of being a young, Black professional couple. I worked hard to obtain the credentials needed to legitimize my work in ministry. She did the best she could to prepare herself for her own professional career. All of that while raising three children, and leading a mass of Black people.

The marriage was over, and now I had to endure the new challenge of life without a wife by my side. I didn’t know how to be single while engaged in ministry. I wasn’t prepared with the skills needed to manage my sexual urges void of a wife. Celibacy was the goal placed before me. The church demanded accountability, and, for them, that meant abstaining from encounters with women.

There was a problem with that expectation-I needed the embrace of a woman. My marriage was over, but I wasn’t dead. What was I to do with the urge to date? Was I to place the need of the people to have me live a life according to their expectations above my own need for intimacy? I was told to put my life on hold. The other option was to go underground, and to date women behind closed doors.

I struggled with that notion. Why should I be forced to hide? Isn’t it contrary to my faith claims to keep from the people things that are known by God? We’re taught that God grants the strength to overcome all temptations, and that those in leadership are given more of a share of strength to aid in their pursuit of all things spiritual.

I wasn’t supposed to feel the urge to reach across my desk. I shouldn’t desire kissing this strange woman, and taking her home with me to help soothe all the pain related to doing the work of the kingdom. I ached because of my urge. I did my best to keep the conversation focused, but the more I talked, the more I allowed my imagination to take control.

Where did this weakness come from? Was it some flaw of mine that created this heated moment? Had I failed to pray enough, or was it another lapse in my spiritual discipline that caused me to want to be intimate with this stranger in my office? Was I so weak that I could no longer control the part of me that I’d prayed to go away?

I could have blamed it on the recent separation from my wife. It is easier to contend with temptations when you have a woman at home waiting for you. The Apostle Paul’s words were beginning to take on new meaning, “It is better to marry than to burn with passion.” I was burning in my office and all I had learned and taught failed to protect me from the woman setting on the other side of my desk.

As I spoke and listened, I explored my mental files for some truth to lift me beyond the craving. I found no sermon, no teaching, no word of wisdom that helped me with that moment. In that instance, in my office, I was forced to deal with one of the failures of the church. We have botched in providing a real understanding around the correlation between human sexuality and spirituality. Our only answer is to assume that the urge is a demon that demands exorcism. In making the claim that sex is bad, void of an explanation as to why, we leave people limited in their ability to understand the meaning behind the yearning that takes one by surprise.

I couldn’t pray myself out of this situation. I couldn’t run away. I was forced to sit and endure it, to face it and to come up with a way of dealing with the real reason for the temptation. I had to do more than call it a trap of the enemy. I had to admit that what I was feeling was because I wanted to feel it. There was something within me that wanted to come out and play, and the woman on the other side of my desk was merely a rude awakening to what was deep within me.

This is what comes with being single. The label of minister isn’t enough to reduce my humanity. I’m created as a sexual person, and although the church is not willing to have a real conversation about the meaning of sexuality, I had to deal with it for my own survival. I had to wake up and face the reality of my being a single person. My desire for attention and intimacy was real, and this woman triggered that part of me that wanted to be touched. If not her, someone else would come along to stir up the same emotions. The problem wasn’t her; it was my desire for human touch.

Maybe that’s why so many ministers get caught up in sex scandals. We, the people who make up our churches, assume they should never feel the urge. We put them in positions of power, and, in doing so; strip them of all their humanity. It doesn’t go away. It remains in tact. Those who survive best possess the skill of keeping the desire to themselves. They find ways of fulfilling the urge without getting exposed for being human. They trick the people into believing they are different than the others-they are a rare breed of strength.

Some cheat on their wives. Others, who are single, find a way to play the game behind closed doors. A few remain true to the expectations of the people. Some do it out of fear. Others haven’t been given the chance to explore the possibility. One thing is certain, that burning desire doesn’t go away upon ordination. The collars and robes we wear aren’t enough to exterminate the desire for intimacy. It comes knocking, and, when it does, it’s essential that one examine the root of the desire.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered to myself in the middle of a meaningless sentence. “I can’t manipulate this situation for my own gratification.” I knew the answer for that moment. She was a stranger. I hadn’t formed a relationship with her. I couldn’t take her home, have sex, and feel good about myself the next day. I could not jeopardize my position in ministry to lure women to my bed.

“I would love to talk some more, but I have to get home,” it was time to put an end to this game.

“Can I come see you later? she asked.

“Here’s my card,” I handed it to her from across my desk. I knew I couldn’t give her my home number. “You can contact my administrative assistant to arrange an appointment.”

We stood to depart. She reached for a hug. I allowed it knowing trouble could follow. It felt just right. I pulled away just in time. Another second would have been too much. I pulled away as her hand stroked the middle of my back. “Thank you,” she said. “It was nice meeting you.”

Temptation has a way of finding those in ministry. When it comes sometimes you can pray, sometimes you can run, sometimes running and prayer aren’t enough to help you through. Sometimes you have to consider the reason for it all. Sometimes it’s because something is missing. Sometimes it’s because you’re hurting. Then there are those times that you feel the urge because of that thing called love.

We’re told not to feel desire. Desire isn’t the problem as much as it is the wrong type of desire. We all need human touch, even those in ministry. The touch should mean more than a moment. It should open the way for more meaningful moments between two people.

Check out the website for M.O.I.S.T

http://www.moistonstageonline.com/index.html