The Deportation of a Young Man's Dreams

Someone from the school administration office called just before the rally. The people at Jordan High School said it was okay to meet there to support Fausto Palma-Guifarro, a recent graduate at Jordan High. The move across the street to the parking lot of the city park was not enough to chill the emotions of a troubled crowd. In two days, Fausto is set to be deported to Honduras.

“This is my home. This is the place I want to be,” the soft spoken 18 year-old told 45 supporters. “I feel like my dreams are going down. I don’t have the opportunity in my country to be what I want to be.” He wants to be a pediatrician.

His few words were enough to tell the story as young people held signs that said more than anyone could say. “Education not deportation,” a middle school male student held the sign high as an African American female honked her horn and waved her hand in support. She screamed out the window and the crowd of young people responded to her support. I couldn’t detect what the motorist said.

Others blew and waved. A tear dropped from my eye as I noticed most showing support were African American. Most in the crowd were Hispanic and white. It didn’t matter the race. “We are humans not a #!” read another sign held by a young man the same age of Fausto.

The clock is ticking on Fausto. He crossed the border into the U.S. when he was 12 years-old. “I was brought to this country escaping the violence in Honduras and reunite with my mother who I had not seen since I was 6 years old,” he wrote in a statement passed out at the rally. “I did not remember my mother’s face. I missed her love, hugs and company.”

In 2004, Fausto and his brother were stopped by immigration officials while attempting to cross into the U.S. He was given an order to appear in court, but did not go after his mother received legal counsel informing him not to show up.

On June 8, the day before his graduation from Jordan High, authorities came to his house and arrested him. “We need John Morton to deprioritize Fausto so that way it will give us the opportunity maybe in three to six months to keep him in this country,” Steve Monk, Fausto’s attorney says. “He had no control in coming here. He has lived the good life and wanted to improve himself.”

Fausto’s mother, Veronica Guifarro, moved to Durham in 1998 after a tornado in Honduras. She does cleaning work in Pittsboro. She has Temporary Protected Status due to the conditions in Honduras. Fausto’s is the youngest of three children. Angel Jose Lobo, the oldest son, 27, was deported last month.

Fausto is among thousands in the U.S. who qualify for the Development, Relief and Education for Alien Act (DREAM Act) which allows undocumented students to come out of hiding, pursue and obtain higher education and become American citizens. To qualify the student must have entered the country at the age of 15 or younger, graduated from a U.S. high school or obtained a GED, not have a criminal record and lived at least five years of continuous presence in the U.S.

The DREAM Act failed in the Senate in December. North Carolina Senators Kay Hagan and Richard Burr voted against the legislation. “We need to be communicating with our legislators about the importance of immigration reform that will protect especially vulnerable kids like Fausto who have such a promising future.” says Spencer Bradford, executive director of Durham Congregations in Action.

Bradford says this is a moral action that requires the attention of people of faith. “3000 years ago Hebrew prophets beginning with Moses began talking about being hospitable to strangers in the land,” he says. “God expects us to be as hospitable to strangers in our land as God is hospitable toward us as we come into his house.”

The T-shirt worn by Fausto told the message that Hagan, Burr and other critics of the DREAM Act can’t hear. “Don’t deport my dreams.”

If we are to be a nation that upholds the right for all children to achieve the best within them, how can we do that when a young person like Fausto is sent back to a land where dreams wither like a raisin in the sun?

The move across the street was a fitting illustration to how we handle problems in this country. When faced with conflict, just move it. Move it off school property, or deport it to a far away land.

The clock is ticking. Please don’t destroy Fausto’s dream. He belongs to us. If you don’t believe me, take time to listen to the people honking horns and waving out the window.

We love you Fausto. This is your home, and we are your family.

Kalkhof: "DDI is off the table"

“If I run for city council DDI is off the table,” Bill Kalkhof, president of Durham Downtown, Inc., told me during a recent phone conversation. “It would be a conflict of interest if I continued to serve.”

The conversation came after a recent blog were I mention Kalkhof as a potential candidate for city council. His name has circulated since 2009 after he shared his interest with Barry Ragin and Kevin Davis on Shooting the Bull, their radio show on WXDU. Kalkhof says he has pondered running since then with the understanding that doing so would mean leaving the post he has held since the beginning of DDI.

“I have a team in place,” he told me. “If I decide to run now they are prepared. If not this time they are in place for me to run late.”. Kalkhof was clear that serious thought has gone into his decision to run. At issue is not if, but when, and the when has much to do with if the landscape is such that he can assure winning.

Kalkhof has been instrumental in fueling growth in downtown Durham. Once a wasteland of vacant and deteriorating buildings, downtown has transformed into one of the hottest spots in the South. The city has caught the attention of the New York Times and is regarded as a national model for economic development.

To keep the wheels of progress flowing, Kalkhof led the charge to pass the Downtown Business Improvement District (BID) which created a special taxing district for augmented services downtown. Like a master craftsman, Kalkhof was able to convince the city council the BID is essential during tough economic times.

"If you believe, like DDI does, that the current level of services is simply not good enough, then we're going to have to have a public-private option to raise up the level of services downtown, and to do so in a way that does not take away from other neighborhoods," Kalkhof said during a council meeting. He convinced the council that forming a special tax district would free funds to focus on other vital needs.

Kalkhof has his share of critics. Some have argued that the emphasis on economic development downtown has robbed resources from North East Central Durham and Southside/Rolling Hills. Others are critical of how Kalkhof and DDI receives credit for all that growth while failing to acknowledge the contributions of Jim Goodman at American Tobacco, Christian Laettner, Brian Davis and Tom Niemann at West Village, and Michael Lemanski, Steve Mangano, Paul Smith and Carl Webb at Greenfire Development. They are quick to point to a series of interrelated events that led to massive growth in downtown. More than Kalkhof’s passion, they argue, it was the vision of these business folks that stirred the growth.

The critics of Kalkhof are silenced by the success of downtown economic development. His passion and consistent voice as the advocate for downtown revitalization has been influential in shifting the tide. Now that the BID is in place, Kalkhof is free to pass the baton and consider expanding economic growth in other areas as a member of the city council.

Kalkhof has talked about focusing on downtown and extending economic development from the center. He has talked about developing North East Central Durham and Soutside/Rolling Hills after building a strong infrastructure from the downtown district core.


Maybe he can follow through with the rest of the vision. One thing is certain-we have to take notice of his track record.

DDI is off the table. Sounds like he needs to be placed in a seat.

Spill the Beans Marvin!

I hope Marvin Austin spills the beans. The former UNC football standout and second-round pick of the New York Giants has threatened to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth after a judge denied Michael McAdoo the right to play football at UNC.

“I’m so heated right now…justice will prevail…even if I have to spill the beans,” Austin wrote on his Twitter account, @anchormanaustin, the night of Judge Orlando Hudson ruling. The Durham Superior Court Judge denied McAdoo’s request for an injunction against the NCAA and UNC that would have restored his eligibility.

McAdoo, a defensive end who played two years for the Tar Heels, was declared permanently ineligible by the NCAA after an investigation that uncovered academic fraud and the receipt of improper benefits among players. Austin was one of the players connected to the scandal that may have cost the team serious contention for a national championship. A record nine players were drafted in Aprils NFL draft, which tied for most draftees among one school. Many of those players were declared ineligible to play during the season that had fans drooling.

Austin claims McAdoo was “misled, misused and ostracized from the program,” and described administrators at UNC as “cowardly.” I would love to see Austin make those same comments as a witness. Who better to talk about the whirlwind of events that wrecked a promising season for the Tar Heels?

It was Austin’s comments on Twitter that began that rollercoaster ride that continues to cast a shadow over the UNC football program. In June, the NCAA delivered a 42-page Notice of Allegations to Chancellor Holden Thorp that offered nine major violations, including six related to former assistant coach John Blake or Jennifer Wiley, the tutor responsible for getting McAdoo in trouble with the NCAA.

“Same reasons that others got suspended and are able to play for because I know exactly the details in each case and its no way that this young…Man should have his dream snatched from him like the NCAA has done,” he writes. “I can tell you so many stories that would be mind boggling in comparison.” Say more Marvin. Spill those beans!

I wish he would tell the truth, on stand, about the leadership at UNC. He comes close to opening that can. “I wish the administration stood…And stop the cowardly acts when they are in front of the NCAA and tell them what you told us,” I wonder what Austin and other players were told. I wonder if we will ever get a chance to hear what athletes are told when schools are under the haunting glare of NCAA investigators. Hmm, I marvel at the possibilities.

Judge Hudson’s ruling means McAdoo, who would have started this coming season, cannot play at any NCAA level. He has been stripped of his right to play, and, ultimately, deprived his right to prove his merit as a future NFL draftee. The good news is Robert Orr, a former North Carolina Supreme Court judge, and Durham attorney Noah H. Huffstetler have just begun their fight against the NCAA and UNC. This one could go all the way to the US Supreme Court.

In the meantime, McAdoo can’t play which exposes the gross hypocrisy surrounding the way the NCAA rules the lives of college athletes. The lack of due process and consistent decisions renders the NCAA a laughingstock among those who believe in the American judicial process.

Putting Austin and other athletes on the witness stand may be what’s needed to restore standing to the NCAA sanctioning body. The way the NCAA ruled in the McAdoo case can best be described with the image of putting his name in a hat. The NCAA just grabbed the sentence du jour. They destroyed the life of a young man who made a bad mistake and confessed his role in what appears to be an issue within the administration. Put another way, McAdoo played by the rules given him as an athlete while the university uses him as the goat to be slaughtered.

Spill the beans Marvin. While you’re at it, get some other players to step forward with their can of beans.

A sip of coffee and reflections on the next city council election

I’m sitting at the Beyu Café sipping coffee. It’s one of my local hang outs. I don’t go to the Beyu as much as I would like. You only get one hour to park on the street. That’s an issue for the city council to tackle.

I’m sitting a few tables away from Donald Hughes. Hughes made an unsuccessful bid to serve on the Durham City Council during the last election. Everyone I’ve talk to regards Hughes as a rising star among the countless other political wannabes. His biggest political liability is his mother Jackie Wagstaff, who gets a bad rap for being too outspoken. Many are unwilling to forgive her outburst when she served on the school board.

Hughes was there too. I’ll never forget his rants at school board meetings. He was a high school student at Hillside High. I loved his passion. I loved his courage. I loved his intelligence. Dang, I couldn’t wait to see what would happen after he found a way to channel all of that talent in a constructive way.

After taking the most recent sip of coffee, I fought the urge to ask him if he plans to run for office in the next election. The word in the streets is he will sit this one out. It’s also rumored that his mother has her eyes on one of the three council seats. That hasn’t been confirmed, but Victoria Peterson has announced her intention to run this fall. Bill Kalkhof, president of Downtown Durham, Inc, has been mulling a potential run for city council since 2009. That could stir an interesting conflict of interest debate.

This falls election speaks to the failure of Durham’s African American community to prepare a credible candidate to present to voters. Farad Ali’s decision to leave Durham for work in Durham may shift the demographics of the council from a 4-3 African American majority to a 4-3 white majority. History has proven that Durham functions best when the politics of race are taken off the table, and that normally happens when there is a majority of highly competent African Americans serving on the council.

Steve Schewel, former member of the board of education, is a serious contender to assume the spot occupied by Ali. It’s safe to conclude that Peterson, who has run unsuccessfully for the council three times and for county commission once, is a long shot to win. Those who have lost in the past normally don’t fare well when attempting to prove they are worthy after being defeated before.

Eugene Brown and Diane Catoti face minimal opposition to reclaim their seats on the council. Defeating the incumbents will require a candidate who won’t require being sold to voters. Sadly, the political leaders in Durham are aging fast, and there aren’t many prepared to step on the scene with a resume of strong consistent public service.

There are many who would be phenomenal council members-Carl Webb, Chuck Watts, Sterling Freeman, Anita Brown-Graham and Lois Deloatch come to mind as African Americans who I wish could serve. The problem is the limits based on the work they do and potential conflicts of interest. It’s too bad. A person who holds office in Durham has to be either independently wealthy, have a job that allows flexibility to stray away for those meetings, have a partner that pays the bills while you cut back from work, or be so disconnected from work and other responsibilities that you have nothing better to do with your time.

There aren’t many who trigger an aha moment. Durham has failed at locating, developing and nurturing people for civic leadership. It’s a community that quite frankly kills its youth with power play, manipulation and division. Hughes is one among many who could have served well in political office. I’m hoping he gets another chance. What he and other young leaders need are older, seasoned politicians to teach them. They need the support of our local political action committees.

I would love to see someone elected from the Hispanic community. I would celebrate the election of a person who is openly gay or lesbian. Wouldn’t it be affirming to elect an Asian American or someone who has transcended the scars of incarceration? When that happens we will know that Durham has truly become the diverse community we all say we love so much.

Until then, we are facing another election with the same players. No fresh voice has emerged on the political canvass. There’s a graveyard filled with those who died in elections from the past. Maybe some should rise from the grave. Most of them lost for good reason and should stay in the grave.

I still can’t get over a one hour limit for parking in downtown Durham. One more sip and a prayer for more faith in the next election

Cheating Schools in Atlanta: Could it Happen in Durham?

Could it happen in Durham, NC? Is it possible that the scandal that has ripped the reputation of teachers and administrators within the Atlanta public school system could happen in our own backyard?

In case you missed it, the Atlanta public schools system is entangled in an unprecedented cheating scandal involving 178 principals and teachers, and 44 different schools. A recent investigation uncovered a decade of cheating were educators erased wrong answers on state standardized test, and inserted the right ones. 82 of the 178 educators under investigation confessed.

The reason given is the massive pressure to meet state guidelines. Teachers and administrators decided to change the rules given their inability to meet expectations the right way. Maybe they felt the test creates an environment that encumbers the delivery of quality education. What does one do when funding is linked to test performance, and you have to face attacks because of the limits of those who show up at your school?

Is this what happens when the test controls the way we measure teachers and administrators? At the end of the day, the test is used to gauge more than the advancement of the pupil. It is used to determine the limits and strengths of both the teachers and administrators at the school. The pressure to meet end of the year goals is enough to tempt a teacher to change those answers.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not cosigning on the mistakes made. The purpose of education is to do more than teach things measured on a test. Schools should teach integrity. Any time a teachers changes the answers they have denounced their role as molders of character. Those heads should roll down in Hotlanta.

But there is a deeper issue on the table. It’s one that could be lost in the fury of the moment. It’s imperative that educators examine the implications related to creating a culture of competition and reprimand joined to a standardized test.

What does a teacher do when there is a federal law that states all schools have to have 100 percent of their students proficient in reading and math by the year 2014 or the school will be shut down? No Child Left Behind has helped rouse a climate of fear among teachers and administrators. The annual end of the year report card has become the sole gauge used to determine the success or failure of the school.

In Atlanta, the school system showed such amazing progress in 2009 that it led to Beverly Hall, the school system’s former superintendent, being named America’s superintendent of the year. Investigators of the scandal claim that Hall either knew of the cheating or should have. She has denied the accusation, but blames other employees.

So, is that what it takes to gain national recognition for turning a troubled school system around? It’s not the implementation of strategic plans with sounds systems of evaluations that moves schools in the right direction. It’s not facilitating parental and community involvement that makes that critical shift. Could it be that the key is to refuse to play by the rules? Simply cheat on the test. Get around the tragic execution of No Child Left Behind.

Could there be schools in Durham with teachers and administrators who have taken matters into their own hands by cheating on the test? Maybe we have a few sick and tired of being chewed up and thrown out due to a test that comes back below the line. What do we say to the teachers who can’t get the message across because the classroom needs a social worker more than a teacher?

What happens when that teacher is afraid of the consequences that come with not being able to teach in a way that meets expectations? Things are being taught, but they don’t show up in the test. Does that mean the teacher has failed? Should the principal at the school be detached for failing to show improvement?

I’m not saying it’s happening in Durham, NC, but if it is I wouldn’t be shocked. I wouldn’t be if it’s happening in Wake and Orange County. I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if we discovered it’s happening in most schools across the nation. That’s what happens when the livelihood of people is determined on their ability to prove significant growth in others.

Yeah, heads should roll in Hotlanta. Fire everyone connected to this scandal. After we clean house, let’s take another look at No Child Left Behind.

Otherwise we tempt people to change the answers on the test.

Pastors for Peace Cuba Caravan stops in the Bull City

The Caravan arrives in Durham on Tuesday, July 12 at 6pm. That’s less than 24 hours away. Since 1992, The Pastors for Peace Cuba Caravan has sent at least one aid caravan to Cuba each year. This year 140 cities will hold events hosting the caravan. They will stop in Durham at the Shepherd’s House United Methodist Church, 107 N. Driver St. To educate people on how the US embargo of Cuba causes shortages of food, medicine and other important supplies for the 11 million people living in Cuba.

The 14 routes of the caravan will congregate in McAllen, Texas, and take the aid collected on the way across the border into Mexico. Donations will be loaded on ships for transport to Cuba and participants will fly to Havana for a week of educational programs hosted by the Cuban Council of Churches and the Martin Luther King Peace Center.

Pastors for Peace founder Rev. Lucius Walker died in October 2010, making this the first “Friendshipment” since his death. Walker described the caravan as “an expression of the foreign policy of American citizens, opposed to the foreign policy of our government.”

Walker’s life was transformed on August 2, 1988, when he led a delegation on a fact-finding trip to Nicaragua where rebels were fighting the American-backed government. Their riverboat was attacked by government soldiers, and Walker and 29 others were wounded. Two were killed. The event inspired him to start an organization of pastors to fight what he termed American imperialism. That organization is Pastors for Peace.

Of Pastors for Peace’s 40 missions, 21 have been to Cuba, which has been off limits to American trade since 1963. “The Bible says feed the hungry, clothe the poor,” Walker said in an interview with the Washington Post in 1996. “It doesn’t say to starve the Communists.”

“It’s a travesty how much churches have said about social justice and how little they have done,” Walker told The New York Times in 1969.

Walker graduated from Shaw University before earning a divinity degree from Andover Newton Theological School in Massachusetts and a master’s degree in social work from the University of Wisconsin. He was ordained in 1958.

He was fired from his job as associate general secretary of the National Council of Churches for giving too much money to community organizations back in 1973. He went on to form an umbrella group of civil rights organizations to fight the Ku Klux Klan and another to help prisoners who had been accused of political crimes to obtain bail bonds.

The “Friendshipments” is the progressive faith community’s response to the US economic blockade of Cuba. Like Walker said, feeding the poor is not limited to political ideology. This year’s caravan has meaning beyond previous years. It is the first without Walker who died at 80. It is a celebration of his vision and legacy. Since the first in 1992, when 100 carananistas carried 15 tons of aid-powered milk, medicines, Bibles, bicycles and school supplies to Cuba. Since that first one that had CNN cameras film US treasury officers assaulting a Catholic priest who was carrying Bibles to take to Cuba prompting thousands of calls to Washington from around the US.

Walker is dead, but the work continues. The Caravan stops in Durham, NC, just a few miles down the road from where Walker studies English at Shaw University. It stops in a community rich in progressive theological reflection. Sadly, it’s becoming harder to find people willing to press beyond their politics to see God’s face in countries we’ve been taught to hate.

Blessed are the peacemakers-the Bible tells us. Next year I’m travelling with the Pastors for Peace. I’m headed to Cuba next year. The work of Walker has to continue. One preacher at a time. If not me, who? If not now, when?

Until then, I’ll see you on July 12th at Shepherd’s House United Methodist Church

"Duality": Jazz at the Blue Coffee Cafe

The dude plays a slappaphone. I never heard of the instrument until I heard him play it 7 years ago. It’s a Gamelan percussion instrument. I’m told that Kahlil Kwame Bell is the only jazz musician in the world who plays it. His work is a unique blend of sounds that have left me spellbound and breathless every time I hear him play.

His newest project is a departure from his work with the slappaphone. He returns to his roots in “Duality”. It’s his skill as a percussionist that has landed him gigs on over 80 recording and tours with some of the best in the business. Bell has worked with Roberta Flack, Erika Badu, Sepia, Stefon Harris and two time Grammy Nominated Russell Gunn’s group Ethnomusicology. He plays over 1,000 percussion instruments and does work on both wood and clay flutes.

He is an accomplished composer and arranger. The genres on his recording range from Jazz to Folk, Rock to Hip Hop, Classical to World Music and Spoken Word to Spiritual tunes. In “Duality” Bell teams up with Brandon MCune. McCune, who was chosen as the U.S. Jazz Ambassador to Africa, has worked as a band leader, music director or sideman for Abbey Lincoln, Terrance Blanchard, Nneena Freelon, Betty Carter, Miki Howard, Wynton Marsalis, Terry Dunbar, Larry Ridley, NCCU’s Lenora Zenzalai Helm, Mark Gross, Antonio Hart and Orbet Davis.

“Duality” is magic wrapped in sound. The two stand alone in a collection of songs that take you on a journey around the globe of musical sounds. Each takes you deeper into a hypnotic state destined to pull you away from the chaotic mess that has enraged those searching for more than a drum machine to captivate their attention.

The two will be performing on Saturday, July 9th at the Blue Coffee Café at 202 N. Corcoran St. in downtown Durham. They will be there for a CD release party. The small venue will allow for the audience to touch and feel the sounds. There is a $20 cover charge to get in. It’s well worth it. The Blue Coffee Café will be transformed into a jazz club that night. For those who have been to some of the best clubs in New York City, Bell and McCune are set to take your mind there. The show starts at 8:00 pm. with a free art show from 4-7pm.

What a gift to the city of Durham. Hope to see you there.

The Slave Master Comes to UNC

Folks following the Michael McAdoo lawsuit against the NCAA and the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill should read William Rhoden’s book “The Forty Million Dollar Slave”. Rhoden’s book sheds light on a system that reaps amazing reward for keeping young men in bondage.

What happened to McAdoo deserves to be punished. For those not keeping up with the case, McAdoo, a 6-7, 245 pound defensive end, received a permanent ban from college sports last year by the NCAA. On July 1, attorneys for McAdoo filed a lawsuit in Durham County claiming their client was “improperly and unjustly declared ineligible to play intercollegiate athletics by Defendant NCAA.

The NCAA is charged with jumping to judgment void of all the facts. The investigation by the NCAA found McAdoo guilty of accepting $110 in improper benefits and three instances of academic fraud stemming from portions of a paper composed by tutor Jennifer Wiley.

The NCAA failed to investigate the allegations themselves. Instead, they took the UNC Sept 28 and Oct 4 self-reports at face value. No one adjusted the allegations after the UNC Undergraduate Honor Code Court found there wasn’t enough evidence to charge McAdoo with one of the three counts and found him not guilty on another. The NCAA also failed to consider that UNC’s self-report stated McAdoo did not knowingly commit academic fraud.

The Honor Code Court found McAdoo guilty on one count of fraud for allowing Wiley to add citations and composing a works cited page to conform to American Psychological Association style. McAdoo was suspended for one semester.

When declared permanently ineligible the following month, the NCAA cited three counts of fraud. No one from UNC or the NCAA raised issue with the error. No one in the room fought on his behalf. Like a slave on the auction block, McAdoo’s right to play was sold in exchange for UNC’s reputation.

UNC’s attorney’s failed to mention the error. During the appeal hearing, Utah State professor Ken White, chair of the student-athlete reinstatement committee for the NCAA, stated in his opening remarks that all factual disputes had to be resolved before moving forward. Any discrepancies would result in a postponement of the hearing. No one from UNC or the NCAA brought up the factual dispute.

Also at issue is the lack of fairness in the way the NCAA hands out punishments among those who break the Master’s rules. Is one count of academic fraud and receiving 110 bucks enough to suspend an athlete for the remaining two years of eligibility? Keep in mind that McAdoo made good on repaying the money he had received.

Andy Staples column on SI.com raised the issue of fairness within the NCAA. “When a tutor provided dozens of Florida State athletes with answers for a test for an online music appreciation course, the NCAA agreed in 2007 to a plea bargain that would force the athletes to miss 30 percent of their next season. Cheating on a test and getting APA style pointers are different animals,” he wrote. “As for the impermissible benefits, the punishment doesn't seem to fit the crime. Alabama defensive end Marcell Dareus admitted to receiving $1,787 in impermissible benefits in 2010 and received only a two-game suspension.”

So, you may wonder, why the reference to William Rhoden? Is it over the top to use the analogy of plantation life in reflecting on the state of college athletics? I think not. Not when the boss man holds his whip and collects massive institutional and personal wealth from young studs in exchange for the promise of a college degree. Let’s pull our freaking heads out of the sand and face the truth. Everyone is getting paid at the expense of those who put their bodies at risk.

It appears as an equal exchange-you give us your body and we will give you a place to live, food to eat and a college education. Yeah, it seems like a fair exchange of services and goods until someone gets caught. That’s when the university and the coaches forget the rest of the story and point their finger at the stud. It’s his fault for setting up the system. Problem is he didn’t create the system, the university, coaches, agents and the NCAA created a scheme that keeps players fettered and overwhelmed. That doesn’t absolve athletes for taking advantage of what has been created. It holds others to a level of accountability much higher than the youth prone to make mistakes.

My issue is with the silence of UNC and the NCAA at that hearing. It feels like the university simply decided to play the part to make it all go away. McAdoo, it appears, was no more than a Mandingo stud sold to protect the universities reputation. They watched as the NCAA ruled on his future. They refused to speak up on his behalf. They denied his right to be judged on the facts.

Like a slave on the auction block, McAdoo stood naked before the NCAA. He exposed his limits as the university he pledged to play for allowed his future to go to waste.

Take yo beatin and go to tha shed boy!

Hairstyles, Tattoos and Piercings

Being discriminated against is an agonizing sensation. The most dreadful aspect of it is when you think it just happened, but you lack clear evidence to verify what’s in your gut.

I’ve learned that it’s best not to assume that you were overlooked because of race, gender or some other external variable. More often than not, you didn’t get the gig because there was a more qualified person who got the nod. It has helped me to process rejection by reflecting on the countless people searching for the same thing as me-a freaking job.

The fact that I have to consider employment is enough to shake the foundation of my existence. I’ve become comfortable with a lifestyle that has afforded me the freedom to write what I want when I want and to support those in need of a person emancipated from the restrictions that come with having a boss. Writing and ministry have been my passion, but I’ve discovered that it’s time to consider employment due to a drop in book sales and folks not being enamored with revolutionary minded ministry.

Walking in that space has been a serious eye opener. I’ve discovered the pain of those who suffer with being unemployed and underemployed. I’ve discovered how it feels to need to go to the doctor but not being able to because you can’t pay the bill. I’ve seen the damage done to the emotions when you fail to receive interview after interview despite the fact that you have experience and education worthy of that position. That’s when the temptation comes to utter-‘they didn’t offer me the job because I’m….

Fill in your own blanks. Because I’m black, because I’m a woman, because I’m too old, because I’m gay, because I’m….each person has their own reason behind the rejection.

Mine are simple. On the one hand, it could be my columns that have attacked virtually everyone in the city. Shucks after writing in Durham, North Carolina for 14 years, there aren’t many that haven’t received the blunt of my criticism. It comes with the territory. It has been my job to press and attack and dig deeper and deeper into the untold side of the story. No apologizes for doing that. Someone has to take hold of being bold enough not to care how their words will impact their life beyond the words.

But, let’s not get it twisted. This is not a sob story about the lack of opportunities for me. It’s more about the reason people use for not being able to climb that wall standing in the way of our dream. My situation has me pondering the stupidity of the human spirit. I wonder, and help me if I’m wrong, if people reject me because of my hair. Could it be that these locs (for the record, I don’t call them dreadlocks because I don’t dread them) are standing in the way of my moving forward?

This possibility was brought to my attention by a close friend. I was told to cut my hair. It’s only hair, I was told. Don’t allow it to prevent you from moving forward. Could that person be right, and, if so, what are the implications to the vast others who are measured by things beyond what is on the resume?

“I was denied a job because of this tattoo,” a 24-year old, white female told me while pointing at a star shaped tattoo the size of a quarter. “They told me it’s a gang symbol.”

Wow! I responded in disbelief. Given the rise of tattoos among youth of this generation, is it possible that they have made a decision that will limit their employability? It’s more than hair that gets in the way. It’s piercings, tattoos, fashion statements and hairstyles that lead to potential rejection.

The conversation about the tattoo left me distraught due to the limits others can’t cut off. There’s so much that offends others that simply can’t be taken away. Leaving that conversation left me baffled beyond a response. It left me angry about the obvious-that it could be my own decision to loc my hair that stands in the way of any progress. If that is true, and I’m not sure if it is, all of my anger should be directed toward my own decision. It also means others have made decisions with their bodies that may hinder the fulfilling of their dreams.

It’s so much easier to blame it on being a black man in America. That excuse is comforting because of the prejudices of those who simply don’t know any better than to limit a person like me. It’s easier to overcome the dismissals when a person can’t look past some preconceived notion related to folks who look like me. I can walk in pride because the bigots aren’t smart enough to see the genius in me.

But dang, what happens when it’s all about the hair, tattoos or piercings? I decided to grow my locs notwithstanding my awareness of how it would draw negative reactions. I knew that black people as well as white folks would regard it as evidence of a dude walking within a counter culture. People want team players, not employees willing to stand out in the crowd as if to say ‘look at me, everybody look at me!’

But wait just a dog gone minute. Isn’t it all the same thing? Is to appropriate to validate the assumptions people make about a person with hair like mine? Is it right to discount the strengths a person’s credentials due to their hair?

To cut or not to cut, that is the question. Should I give people the power to force me to make that decision, and if I do, have I negated a part of what it means for me to walk in my own skin?

It’s easier to deal with discrimination when it’s something that you can’t get rid of. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the reason Clarence Thomas decided to be a white man. The difference is everyone knows he’s still black.

Sadly, cutting my hair won’t change who I am, even if doing so changes perceptions involving the character of the man beneath the hair. I suppose it’s best to be true to who you are, even if it causes others to see you in a different way.

It’s only hair, but for me it’s a spiritual decision. One more thing. I have a tattoo.

New York Votes for Same-Sex Unions: I Challenge You!

Way to go New York! Lawmakers there voted to legalize same-sex marriage on Friday despite David Tyree’s warning that the vote will cause anarchy. It’s safe to say that Tyree’s statements leads one to wonder if brain damage was caused when he made that spectacular catch in the Super Bowl with the ball pressed against his head.

Most Americans are fed up with the Bible laced attacks used to limit the rights of those in love with a person of the same sex. The homophobic agenda of the Church played a significant role in stripping Americans of their Constitutional right to live void of the limits of other people’s theological framework. The fight over gay rights has forced Americans to consider how deeply we believe those words written in the Constitution. Are we a nation of diverse theological and ideological perspectives rooted within a context willing to embrace the views on the other side; or, is America a Christian nation given the task of promoting and protecting the claims of a select few?

The discussion related to gay rights is a complex one. On the one hand it is about the integrity involving the way we decode the Constitution. It is also a study concerning the way hatred and ethnocentricity is transferred from one generation to the next. It is about how positions of privilege ultimately minimize the credibility of those on the outside of cultural normality.

As a pastor, theologian, journalist and advocate of the marginalized, I’ve decided to use my voice to attack the countless inaccuracies surrounding the Biblical injunction against homosexuality. As much as I appreciate those who have stood behind the position that the Bible clearly states gay relationships are wrong, I have to give prophetic voice against that presupposition. My reading of the text does not make that claim. My reading of the text, within its proper historical context, supports the conclusion that the Bible makes no reference to relationships between two people engaged in a loving, caring partnership. I interpret the Bible while critiquing a culture where power is used to subvert the weak.

My reading of the text is an injunction against pedophilla, insect and rape. There are those who will vehemently argue against the validity of that interpretation. I accept their right to counter my claims. What I find heartless and objectionable are those who use their theological declarations as fuel for the construction of laws limiting the rights of those on the other side of the argument. Doing that circumvents the authority of our assetion of being a nation of diverse views and identities.

So, some may wonder how a pastor can take on the cause of gay and lesbians without nullifying the supremacy of the Biblical text. That’s easy. I’m not a Biblical literalist. I regard that approach a simple solution to a complex problem. It leads to error due to the assumptions we make when we deny the suggestions of the former culture. It places those of this generation within a context that affirms the marginalization of women and slaves, justifies the murder of women and children regarded as the enemies of faith, deems illness as a curse caused by the sin of the inflicted or a family member, legitimizes the sexual indulgences of men while encouraging the stoning of women for doing the same and upholds a system embedded in a culture that regards women as no more than the property of the men who use them for sex and to deliver their children.

Biblical literalists are incapable of being critical of the narrative due to the assumption that each word was uttered by God. An attack of the text is perceived as a questioning of God’s voice. Each word is true, even when those words contradict the claims we make as the people of God. Thus, literalists are unable to affirm the call of women to ministry, justify the enslavement of others and denies the humanity of people in love with a person of the same sex. This approach creates a paradox of confusion that renders the Church, as I see it, trapped in the hypocrisy of its own claims.

That’s why I do it. Faith is under attack. The attack happens on two fronts: faith in the claims we make as a nation, and faith in the claims we make as the Church universal. The good news is more and more people are beginning to see past the rhetoric that has dominated this discussion for too long. Allowing people to love and marry who they want is a basic human right-even when another person objects to their taking that leap of faith.

If you are a member of a church that decides to endorse a homophobic agenda-have fun with that. If you refuse to concede the merits of people of the same sex getting married-that’s fine with me. What irks me are those who use the Bible, the Constitution, notions of the sanctity of marriage, or, in the case of David Tyree, the view that society, as we know It, will come to an end, as veils that hide their prejudices toward those they fear.

Today, I celebrate with those who seek a same-sex marriage in New York. My prayer is that the same will happen in North Carolina and across the country. I’m thankful that our President is supporting this action, and that numerous allies are voicing their solidarity.

They are coming out of the closet one by one. Republicans who vote with their hearts rather than the fear of their constituents are standing despite the ramifications of that vote. Pro athletes like Steve Nash, Michael Strahan and Charles Barkley have supported same-sex marriages. Their endorsements go a long way toward undoing the deep-seeded hatred gays and lesbians have felt.

This is my challenge. Stand up pastors! Stand up and denounce the claims that limit those who seek a place to be loved and affirmed. Stop hiding behind the dogma of faith and be a prophetic voice. Yes, that applies to my African American clergy. Put an end to the venom laced words that fuel hatred among those you lead. Stand above the fear of their attacks. Stand above what you fear they may say about you. Stand above the fear of enduring a vote to end your work of faith!

I challenge you to stand and be a prophetic voice. More than that, I challenge you to be a Christian and to act like Jesus.

Any takers?

Soul Food and Snicthing

I sat in the chair as my barber placed a cold towel on my face. The chill followed the warmth of the hot towel that helped close the pours opened after my shave. I took a deep breath in celebration of my pampering session. I did my best to block the chatter in the room. Too much had happened over the previous weeks. I was gasping for air after reflecting on the murder of three girls followed by a suicide, the death of a friend’s sister after falling through a hotel window in Atlanta, tornadoes, floods, and more that kept me on my knees in prayer.

The towel blocked the faces of those in the room. I listened as they discussed encounters with the police. They talked about snitching-a term used to discount those who informed the police about the misdeeds of a person of color. “I would tell in a heartbeat,” I murmured to myself as they continued to minimize those who talk to the police.

“I have to get out of here,” my barber uttered as he took the towel from my face. “Things are different over here.

So true. Things had changed since my barber moved to another location where the customers echoed life in the fast lane. I then noticed the man in the chair next to mine. His arm was wrapped in bandage due to a recent chase for his life. The night before my shave two vehicles, a dark blue Charger and a white or gray Acura, pulled up next to him as he drove on the Durham Freeway. Men in those cars took shots forcing him to flee from the car and run for his life.

That incident followed the death of Michael Orlando Hunter on Saturday. Motorist in another car pulled next to his BMW 323 and sprayed bullets into the car. He died after crashing into a tree near the Durham Bulls Athletic Park.

Something didn’t feel right. God knows I hate making assumptions, but why all that talk about snitching? It left me wondering about how much is known that no one has the guts to tell. I left feeling the pulse of life in a warzone.

Something didn’t feel right. I remembered the last time I felt that way. I was walking across the street on Garfield Avenue in St. Louis with my sister. A car pulled up, a man jumped out and started shooting in the direction of me and my sister. The bullets fell near our feet. We both remained frozen. What just happened, I thought at the time. What just happened, I thought as I left the barbershop.

It was time to get something to eat. I drove South on Fayetteville Road as I considered my options. I stopped at the Chicken Hut and ordered baked chicken, mashed potatoes and lima beans and corn. I needed something to erase the memories, the fears and the uneasiness that was tormenting me. What is that feeling, I thought as I took my seat.

Another deep breath to settle my heart beat. “Looks like we have another DC sniper,” a woman at the table next to mine alleged. “Those two shooting had too much alike.”

The man and the woman sharing the table agreed with her conclusion. “You know the police don’t want to tell us the truth,” the man said.

“I think the two are connected in some way,” I said. They listened and nodded. The words brought to the surface what I was feeling. I had no evidence to support my assumption. All I had was a gut seeking resolution after receiving the comfort of a shave.

I took a bite of my chicken. I don’t get to eat down home cooking that often. The best place to get it is at one of those holes in the wall-like the Chicken Hut. You have to find a place in the “hood”-where people function in a counter culture. The food is different there.

It’s also a place where people don’t talk to the police. People know things related to unsolved crimes. They don't talk because you don’t snitch in the “hood”. If I knew I would snitch. I have my gut, but guts can’t testify in the court of law.

F-: The State Legislative Report Card

Can someone help me understand North Carolina’s recent state budget? The budget, combined with a number of hard to understand decisions, makes it virtually impossible to uncover how lawmakers perceive their roles as crafters of public policy.

Thanks to Lisa Sorg of the Independent Weekly for providing a timely and concise review of what happened during this past legislative session (Truth in Legislative Bill Naming: June 15). After reading her column it seems that the goal of this past legislative session was to undo the hard work that progressive minded folks have fought to secure over the past few decades while shifting the burden of human service delivery to the local level.

As countless citizens of the state continue to endure life void of medical insurance, legislators pushed the Protect Health Care Freedom Act that would force the state to sue the federal government to protect insurance companies from the implications of Romney Care. The notion that health care reform is a bad idea was further enhanced by lobbying in support of Medical Liability Reform which places caps on the damages one can claim from medical malpractice in emergency rooms.

While most North Carolinians celebrate the contributions Latinos add to our state, legislators sought ways to limit their political power by proposing measures comparable to the voting tax and test that disenfranchised African American voters prior to the passage of the Voting Rights Act. They pushed bills that would require all voting material be in English and Voter Identification at the Polls which would make it difficult to vote if you don’t have a driver’s license. The Safe Students Act requires that parents disclose the immigration status of their children prior to enrolling them in public schools. This legislative session was an attack on Latinos who overwhelmingly vote Democratic.

They fought to repeal the Racial Justice Act, passed in 2010 after it was proven that race played a major factor in how the death penalty was handed down. They also passed the NC Firearms Freedom Act which prohibits the federal government from regulating the sale of firearms in the state. It’s the old state versus federal government argument that landed us in the war between the North and the South.

The Consumer Finance Act Amendments allows predatory lenders to increase the size of loans they offer to an amount one is incapable of paying while adding fees and increasing the interest rate to as much as 36 percent. This pro business session left most citizens worse off than before it all got started.

This session was an attack on public education. The cap on charter schools was lifted. Tax credits are now available for parents with incomes less than $100,000. They can receive a tax credit of $2,500 per child if they withdraw them from public schools and enroll them in private schools or homeschool them. The measure paves the way for the private school industry to reap the benefits of those seduced into believing public schools are the highway leading to educational death.

The state budget was cut leaving local governments pressed to find a way to continue the level of service needed to meet the needs of the children in their district. Members of the Durham County Commission will vote on a quarter-cent sales-tax increase for Durham schools. If approved during the June 27th meeting of the Board of County Commissioners, it will be left in the hands of voters in November.

It all comes at a time when the county is considering a half-cent sales tax for public transportation improvements. That increase would support the much anticipated rail system that would connect Durham with Raleigh and Chapel Hill.

Local leaders are forced to go to voters to approve a tax increase while state legislators push to decrease funding for public education. Put another way, voters are receiving less from the state to support the education of their children while having to, potentially, pay more just to keep pace with the local education needs.

It could be argued that both proposed tax increases are regressive taxes-placing a greater burden on the poor. Given that they are proposed increases in sales taxes, we must be careful not to shift the burden on those unable to keep pace with the cost of living.

It is clear that state legislators are decreasing the size of state government at the expense of local municipalities. I’m certain the folks we voted in to serve on the national front would say the same thing-that we need to downsize government. There’s one problem with that notion. The cost to maintain those services we all need is simply passed down to the citizen at the local level. It is up to us to vote for more taxes-either sales or property-to pay for the advancements we need.

So, when we listen to politicians talk about government out of control and the need to reduce taxes to stimulate spending, ask yourself how those reductions impacts those on the local level. What can be done to continue to provide services when those at the state and federal level play politics with our dollars? It only comes back on those at the local level to decide. One way or another, we have to pay for those services.

As for the rest of what was voted on-who profits from those decisions? Someone help me understand.

Durham: The City that Moves Like Jazz

There’s so much to love about Durham. The stunning buildings that once served as the cottages for the tobacco industry are the perfect link between the past and present of a city like no other. Durham is a village that moves like jazz music. The sway of our collective bodies anticipates the next shift like the adding of a new instrument bringing solo to rich harmony.

Durham is that big band grooving in a way that transcends the burden of boundaries. We bring to this composition the strength of our historical claims. Can you hear the drum swing over in Hayti? Can you hear the trumpet blow blue notes over in Walltown? Listen to the sax moan in Braggtown. It’s the blend that makes it swing.

Yes, Durham knows how to dance to melody made possible by the varied voices in the band. Oh, what an astonishing sound we make. It’s not the clatter of chaos; it’s the blending made possible due to mutual respect and admiration. Those myriad of voices can’t play until each understands the contribution of the other players.

The great temples of our city are there to remind us of our sacred claims. An illustrious sanctuary serves as the focal point on Duke University’s campus. It stands as a cue to all who come that our hope is for a community grounded in universal truths. Truths like love, compassion, peace, mercy and justice. Sprinkled across the city are temples of hope-White Rock Baptist Church, St. Joseph AME Church, Watt Street Baptist Church, Greater St. Paul Baptist Church, Judea Reform, First Presbyterian-they are everywhere reminding us of our purpose and potential.

Durham has stood in faith. We, as a community, have grappled with the burden of unraveling the common thread. This is the significance of Marry Durham. March 19 is our day to celebrate the strength laced in the range of our difference. Ours is a universal movement. We dance salsa, ballet, yakum natima, bhangra, waltz, tango, ballos and jota. We are more than our particular ancestries. We are that pot stewed by the worth of the other ingredients melting in our company.

We are better because of our differences. We strive to honor and respect the magnitude of each contribution. Yes, for better and for worse. Yes, when your position challenges mine. Yes, when I’m incapable of understanding the yoke of your years-I will stand with you Durham. I will wrestle with my own presuppositions until I see the face of God through all of you.

We are Christians. We are Jewish. We are Muslims. We are Buddhist. We are Atheist and Agnostics. We are beached in the lumber of racial and ethnic distinction. But more than the determinants of our ideological and corporeal existence-we are Durham. We are a community that swings like an improvisational groove. Each of us serves a role in the band.

On March 19, 2010, we will marry the city we love so much. Like Coltrane’s “Love Supreme” we will stand as a universal community engaged in the potency of massive particularity. We will act as one band with a sundry of voices playing a new composition crafted by our union.

Come play with us.

How Long Lord?: Seeking Justice When Four Men Are Killed

I can’t believe it’s been five years. Five years of waiting for justice. Five long years of waiting for the judicial system to work the way we’re taught in school. It hasn’t worked.

Do you remember the news from the evening of November 19, 2005? Four young men were brutally executed that night. The community was shocked to discover the men murdered were from middle class families. They were college students with promising futures. They had no criminal records. In other words, they didn’t fit the conventional profile of black men killed.

I was shocked to get the news that Lennis Harris, Jr. was one of the men killed. Harris, 24 at the time of his death, is the son of Lennis Sr., a firefighter in Durham. Lennis and his wife, Donnamaria, are close friends. I conducted their wedding ceremony in my office close to 15 years ago, and often tease Donnamaria due to her claim that she has the best husband in the world. She might be right about that. There are few people like Lennis.

I remember weeping all day when I got the word. I also remember the agony caused by going to the funeral at the White Rock Baptist Church. I cried so hard that morning that I got there late. Too late to get a seat. People came to grieve the loss of Harris, Juan Coleman, 27, Jamel Holloway, 27, and Jonathan Skinner, 26. Each person at the church was familiar with death. We all know too well what it feels like to hear of a young black man taken too soon. There was something different this time. It hurt more than past tragedies.

It’s been five years. A year after the homicides, police charged Rodrick Venard Duncan, with four counts of first degree murder, one count of attempted murder and one count of attempted robbery. Police claim victims were the targets of a drug-related robbery. Witnesses told police they saw four men fleeing the scene of the shooting after they heard gun shots. It’s been five years, and no other arrests have been made.

“We were told the case was placed on the backburner due to the Duke Rape case,” Harris told me five years ago when I interviewed him for a story in the Independent Weekly. He was told they didn’t have enough resources to investigate both cases. The case with national exposure took precedent over the death of four black men.

After five years it’s time to march. Keep in mind that I retired from marching a few years back. I’m tired of singing “we shall overcome” and yelling “no justice, no peace”. There was a time for passive resistance, and there are times when we have to stand today. It’s not that I don’t understand the need to march. My feet have been worn by the multitude of causes that demand a protest.

This isn’t a protest. “Five years later the case is not solved, the murderers still roam the streets, the families are still deeply grieved and the community is still waiting for answers,” wrote Donnamaria Harris. “We have not forgotten.”


There will be no singing. There will be no chants. The family will lead us in a silent “Memory March” around the Durham Police Department’s administration building in downtown Durham. It takes place five years later-Friday, November 19, 2010, beginning at 7pm. We walk in silence twice in memory if each victim. Eight times. Five years later.

How long lord? How Long?

I've Got Tha Funk In My Dry Bones

It was one of the stupidest things I have ever done. It can be tough being caught in between. I was fragile due to the confusion related to merging my old life with the new. The old life wanted to cling to some of the stuff that came with being a radio announce and party DJ. My new life as husband and minister seemed to conflict with the claims of my emerging world.

Someone told me to let go of all of the evils from my past. I was reminded of it every day when I stepped into my living room. There it was, all those albums used to entertain people who came to my parties and who listened to me on the radio. Hundreds of them were stacked against the wall. The voices within me were too much to bear-you hypocrite. They had to go. I had to exorcise them from my life, and I did. I took my albums and placed them in front of my house for the sanitation workers to take away. I was relieved.

I missed them, but felt like Abraham on that mountain that day when he was asked to sacrifice his only son. I killed that part of me that enjoyed the beat of the bass. Lord knows I loved my Jazz and Funk. I placed Miles’ “Kind of Blue” next to Con Funk Shun and Parliament. I was diverse in my collection. They were like my children, and I cried as the garbage truck took them away.

Later, I came to regret my moment of stupidity. I began to process why people consider music evil and place labels to minimize the significance different genres can play in molding a life beyond the moves made on the dance floor. I came to grips with discovering how the Gospel can be found in music that isn’t called Gospel, and that some of what we call Gospel should be ashamed for using that word to define its lyrics.

Suffice to say, I feel silly for throwing away all those albums. More than that, sometimes I get angry at how Church Folks seem bent on robbing people of having a good time. That’s why I get excited whenever there is a concert that takes me back to those days before I was manipulated into throwing my jewels to the swine.

So, get this. This Preacha’ Man loves that funk. I’m not ashamed of it, and it really doesn’t bother me if people look at me strange when I show up to reminisce on the good ole days before Lil’ Wayne and the crew of madness (that’s what I call them) made music a thug thang. I’m tired of listening to beats made by a machine, and lyrics that reduce women to sperm depositories.

You can imagine how excited I got when I received the news that a few of my favorites are coming to town. Con Funk Shun, Zapp and Taste of Honey will perform at the Carolina Theatre on Saturday, October 30 at 7p.m. They will be in town to help North Carolina Central University celebrate their Homecoming. The Eagles who will be in the house need to prepare for the good Rev. and Connie, my preacher side kick, as we do what we do best-shake our groove thangs until the party stops.

For the Holy rollers too sanctified, saved and full of the Holy Ghost to participate in all of that, ‘cuse me for knowing how to have a good time. My reading of the scriptures makes it clear that Jesus was hip on the benefits of having a good party.

And, if you are going to have a party, the best way to get it all started is with some old school grooves. I’m all pumped up and ready to get up and move to Zapp performing “More Bounce to the Ounce.” Come on people, you can’t get funkier than that! Oh, let’s not forget one of my all time favorites “Computer Love”

I’ve got to hear Taste of Honey give me some “Boogie Oogie Oogie” and Con Funk Shun’s “Shake and Dance With Me.” The only issue is if I will have energy to preach on Sunday. You know what Parliament says, “The Funk moves and removes.” I can feel my help coming! The Funk is more than music to me, it’s an experience. It moves the body and it removes the pain by taking you to a place where having a good time is all that matters

Tickets on sale now at the Carolina Theater box office and Ticketmaster. For tickets visit www.carolinatheatre.com or www.ticketmaster.com . Ticket prices: $25 and $39.50.

See you at the show! I need to purchase some CD’s.

Sandra's Heart

There’s so much in life that we take for granted. Like the people we love. How often do we allow a day to pass without saying “I love you”? Like the beauty of nature. How many times have we allowed the sun to set without taking notice of God’s creation? Like the beat of the heart. How many of us take for granted the constant beat of the organ that sustains life?


Sandra Jones Thompson is in need of a heart transplant. For years she has suffered from Congestive Heart Failure. Her condition has deteriorated and the only suitable course of action is a new heart. To do so she has to be placed on the waiting list. She can’t be placed on the list until she pays $7,500. That’s right, she can’t be considered until she pays to get on the list.


Issues like this that gets under my skin. It’s confirmation again, after all of that talk about health reform, that the granting of quality health comes down to who has the money to get access to the best in healthcare. Who among us has $7,500 sitting around just in case we need a new heart? What should we say about a system that reduces access to who has the cash to be placed on the list?


I in no way intend to minimize the stress placed on the system. I’m certain there are more people who need new hearts than there are donors. However, This is yet another example related to the complexity of the provision of health in our nation. With that being said, I would rather focus on the need and beg my readers to do what they can to help Sandra get on the list.


It’s easy for me to get motivated around this issue. I know Sandra. I know her tender spirit. I know her love for her daughter, Erica, and her faith in God. I have witnessed her cry in the midst of worship. I have seen her praise God for the gift of life, and for the gentle beats of her heart. Put another way, I love this woman. That love is rooted in my relationship with her and her daughter.


So, I beg you to help my friend. There are a few ways for you to help. The first is easy. The family is conducting a pre-sale Spaghetti Meal Fundraiser in which funds will assist in getting Sandra’s name in the national transplant waiting list. These funds will also be used for after care medication following the heart transplant.


Spaghetti meals are $8.00 and includes salad and breadstick. Pre-sales are from October 6, 2010 - October 13, 2010. Log on to www.PayPal.com and send $8.00 to sandras_heartbeat@yahoo.com. Meals will be available for pick up at Dillards BBQ located at 3291 Fayetteville Road, Durham NC on Saturday October 16, 2010 from 12pm - 12:30pm.


The second way for you to help is to pull out the old check book and write a check. If you prefer to make a monetary donation, contact Erica Jones by calling 919-824-5038 or send an email to sandras_heartbeat@yahoo.com. You can also donate via the PayPal information above.


There’s so much we take for granted. I’m thankful for the way my heart functions. Can’t imagine what it would feel like to have to live with an inconsistent beat. Its times like these that we should pause to be thankful for every thump. After we give our thanks, why not help a person living without what we take for granted.

Backslide: The Story Continues

Purchase Backslide by going to the link below. Available in book soft and hard cover

http://www.trafford.com/Bookstore/BookDetail.aspx?BookId=SKU-000193762

Writing a book is an arduous task. My first novel, Preacha’ Man, served as a cathartic release from the drain caused by serving as the pastor of a booming ministry. The work of the kingdom became too much of a job. The call to minister was exchanged for serving more like public relations manager and employee of the masses than a prophetic voice. It became too much for me to bear living with the unrealistic expectations of others given the tug at my soul to be more engaged in the lives of the least of these.

I completed the first novel less than a month before being asked to leave the church I had worked tirelessly to build. For those looking from the outside, the story reads like a sad tale of a man going through some form of identity crisis. It appears as an account of failure among those standing on the side of maintaining traditional mores, while seeming like a reminder of the evils of Church folks among those fed up with the way churches have changed.

My own story serves as a lab test for those seeking to make sense out of the transition taking place within the Southern black faith community. Critics are quick to point o the emergence of prosperity motifs that have rendered the prophetic converge of black faith lacking in emphasis and direction. It is easy to recount those good ole days when men like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Wyatt T. Walker stepped to the beat of a different drummer. I contend that our fascination with those glory days are no more than a myth conjured in the aftermath of the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the passage of Civil Rights legislation. The Black Church has never been a harmonious community that transcended denominational and cultural barriers.

With that being said, it is hard to deny Black faith is enduring a metamorphic process that is hard to define. My first book forced a critique of the implications related to building works of faith designed to replicate the most recent fad. Our desire for bigger and better collectives of faith has blinded many to the amazing truth often found where small groups gather. When faith is measured it renders the prophetic message rankled by the façade of impotence. We simply can’t see hope in places that fail to enumerate our expectation for more. It simply isn’t real when the numbers fail to reflect what we claim to be true.

Preacha’ Man is the story of a pastor who finds the strength to walk away. He leaves the comforts shaped by his faith to capture the freedom to live within a faith not limited by the constrictions of the Church. The book is a reminder that the work of the Church often diminishes faith rather than to facilitate the nurture of authentic spirituality. Releasing the first book was a thorny task. As much as I knew it was an important message, I feared how my baby, my book, would be dragged through the mud of public humiliation.

Now comes the second novel. Backslide exposes more of me than the first novel. This is a book about a man broken by innuendos and the stripping of security. Simon, the main character, comes back. Back into ministry. Back into the shambles that comes with allowing the imagination of others to damage the integrity of the work he does. He confronts the continued stabbing at his credibility and the fabrications told to explain how all the changes came to pass.

Underneath the sadness of change is a deeper truth. Those forced to rekindle lives, after the locus come to eat hope away, are given spiritual task far deeper than the words of our hallowed hymns. Once stripped of leftovers and reserve accounts, faith demands answers that no sermon can address. This is the story of what happens when faith no longer works in ways that help keep the tears away.

My newest baby has been released into the universe. Baby Backslide is certain to be disparaged for failing to speak in ways common to folks who call faith their home. This is my truth. More than that, this is my story. The sad truth is there are countless others who share the pain sprayed on the pages of my books.

Paul Tillich says there is a God above the God of our understanding. A God beyond the God we sing about on Sunday morning. A God present with us when all we know fails to counter the pain. Sometimes we cry alone. Often, those who claim to care walk away because they can’t take the sadness we bear. It especially hurts when the Church adds to the madness. Backslide is a going back to the work that makes us cry; even when that work should be the very thing to stop the pain.

My book as available at all bookstores across the nation and on the internet. Please, read it and tell me what you think.

Eddie Long: "I Have Five Rocks"

“I have five rocks, and I haven’t thrown any yet,” I listened as Eddie Long rallied the masses. He used an old story to portray himself as the victim. Like David confronted with a massive Goliath, Long pleaded with his mega-congregation to support him in a battle waged to destroy his empire.

He hasn’t thrown rocks yet. I was saddened by the usage of this metaphor. I was moved more by what wasn’t said than with what Long preached. I was prepared for his claim that this is spiritual warfare pitting good versus evil. I’m not shocked that he positioned his spiritual army to stand with him as he approached the giant in the court of law.

Those rocks waiting to be thrown trouble me. Should we affirm the shedding of spiritual blood among those hurting enough to file a lawsuit? Have the people calling for the death of these young men forgotten that they are members of the family with spirits in need of ministry? Has Long become so entrenched in his own quest to be liberated that he is willing to do anything to prove his innocence? Is this the image of the crucified Christ who stood before his own court of law?

In a previous blog posting, I challenged readers to consider the distinction between king and prophet. Long’s response places this conversation within a working framework. Kings fight while prophets humbly endure. Prophets seek ways to teach beyond the intentions of others while kings seek to punish those who come against the kingdom. In other words, kings throw rocks.

There is a theological truth that is spoken within Quaker thought. Quakers contend the spark of God is present within all of us. The work of the kingdom is to seek the presence of God in others-no matter how deviant they become. The challenge of people of faith is to find the good and to minister to it, even when doing so leaves us broken due to the manipulation and abuse coming from those we love. It is the loving response of the people of God that stands as witness to the transformative power of the resurrected Christ.

We are challenged to love those who despitefully use us. We are asked to humbly seek ways to impact the lives of those desirous of our destruction. Long’s response to throw rocks bears witness of a deeper theological mandate. Long, and the members of his congregation, are positioned to protect the kingdom. They will do so in the court of justice rather than in the court of love. They will throw rocks to further humiliate these young men.

No word was uttered regarding the need for the church to prayerfully seek ways to minister to the brokenness created by this scandal. There was no word of forgiveness, no word of the love that should be shown for those who filed the lawsuit. These are family members hurt enough to bring voice to their pain. The congregation has chosen to stand by their king and daddy, and to blame these young men for falsely accusing the man they worship.

This dynamic should not surprise any of us. It’s what transpires when a child accuses an adult of abuse. We are quick to come to the defense of the father or mother, aunt or uncle, friend or minister. The victim is ostracized as the family defends the character of the person accused. This is classic family dynamics. The thing that makes it different is the family, in this case, is the church.

One would think Long would use the message of Christ to guide him in handling this matter. That’s hard to do when you have made yourself into a king.

Prepare for the slingshot.

Lessons From Gay Pride

It could be said that I have been a hypocrite. I have vocally supported my gay brothers and sisters. I spoke at a protest when Proposition 8 passed in California. I have written and encouraged readers to fight against homophobia. I have preached about the need to become open and affirming communities of faith. With all of that being said, I have been a hypocrite. Until Saturday, I had not been to the Gay Pride Parade in Durham, NC

I wish I could say it has been due to some conflict in schedule. Not the case. I would be dishonest if I said it has been due to the location of the event. Nope. It takes place within walking distance of my downtown loft. I have stayed away due to fear. I dreaded having to contend with the assumptions people would make when they saw me in the crowd. I was afraid that people would assume I’m gay.

The fear is rooted in my journey as an advocate for gay rights. Sadly, I have carried the label for some time now. The whispers began after my second divorce. People wanted to uncover the truth behind why it all ended. That’s when the rumors started-that he must be gay.

It took years for me to discover how deep the lie had become embedded into the lore of black folks in Durham. It became lucid to me when I was asked to write an article for the Independent Weekly. The editor wanted me to share how I transformed while serving as Pastor of the Orange Grove Missionary Baptist Church. I became perplexed when she continued to send it back asking me to share more about my personal change. Later, I discovered she assumed I’m gay and wanted me to discuss how my coming out of the closet impacted my life and work.

I soon discovered the impact of the rumor. The gossip mutilated my spirit. Being an advocate comes with a price. It was then that my admiration for the non blacks of the Civil Rights movement escalated. The real heroes and sheroes of change are those who stand when doing so creates discord in their lives.

I imagined being called ‘Nigger lover” by members of the family. I considered those willing to literally take bullets for people they love for reasons deeper than family ties. It was then that I became disgusted with my own grapple with not attending the Gay Pride Parade. I had allowed bitterness to distort my message of unity. I was more concerned with what people thought of me than I was of my need to stand in solidarity with those who endured much more than the scandal of a rumor.

I sucked it up on Saturday. I made the walk to the Duke wall. People were gathered in preparation for the unveiling of their pride. With each step, my courage rose above the venom of the rumors. I passed people I know along the way. “Hey Mr. Kenney,” a young photographer called my name with a smile as he prepared to take a picture. I kept walking.

I found a place on the wall and embraced the pride. I celebrated the bravery of those bold enough to resist years of discrimination. Tears began to pour as I witnessed the procession of churches there to support a prideful community. I cried because the church I pastor was not in the parade. We were not there because of my fear. My words weren’t strong enough to transform my own fear into action. I needed to march. Instead, I stood on the wall and watched as others made their bold statement of faith

I walked in the direction of Whole Foods to purchase items to cook. Then, I heard a scream. “Pastor, Pastor,” one of the congregant screamed as I approached. We embraced. “This is my Pastor everyone.” I felt the release of fear. His embrace said more than enough to eradicate the disappointment of my hypocrisy. Yes, I’m your Pastor.

From there I approached that dreaded intersection-the corner of Main and Broad St. Hate stood there with signs of damnation. The van that transported them had the name of love-JESUS-on the side in bold print. They were there, the church folks, to remind people of their fate. One sign spoke of the rapture. The urge to preach love came to me. I carried the rage that led me to my hiding place. I rekindled the memories related to how people like these spread hearsay on me. I reflected on how they used the sacred truth to damage the souls of the people I love so much.

“I don’t care what you think of me,” I screamed to myself as I considered the hate that robbed me of my former life. Hate sucked my work and robbed me of my security. Lies damaged my integrity and ruined the promise of a blooming work. Gossip stagnated the proclamation of truth and prophetic message of a world where love eradicates hate.

I stood and glared at the hatred on the other side of the street. A float passed by. On the float was a man with a microphone. He said more than I could. “God loves you too,” he spoke as he passed the holy folks on the side of the street. “God loves us all. God doesn’t discriminate, people do that.”

Amen my brother. Amen. That’s the good news. It doesn’t matter what people think of us, God loves us. Each of us must stand for truth. When we fail to do so we give power to the hatred that reduces others to the mind of their imagination. Love has to stand, even when labels come with taking that position.

So, forgive me for my hypocrisy. Forgive me for allowing fear to rule. Next time my truth will participate in the parade. I’m calling other people of faith from the African American tradition to walk with me. It’s the least we can do.

Eddie Long: Prophet or King

These pictured are allegedly of Bishop Eddie Long taken while he was in a hotel bathroom before sending to the plantiffs of the lawsuit

We should be careful before we throw stones at Bishop Eddie Long. The reputation of the prominent Atlanta minister has been tarnished by the claims of three men that Long, the overseer of Atlanta’s New Birth Missionary Baptist Church, used money and power to coerce them into having sex. The story is not the first time Long has been connected to scandal, but it is the first time the news has captured the attention of the national press.

An investigation by Atlanta Journal-Constitution reporter John Blake uncovered serious questions about the compensation Long collected from the nonprofit, tax-exempt charity he created in 1995 to help the needy and spread the good news. Between 1997 and 2000, Bishop Eddie Long Ministries, Inc. provided its founder with at least $3.07 million in salary, benefits and use of property. In those same four years, the charity only made $3.1 million in other donations. It was impossible to tell to whom those donations went as the records aren’t itemized-a violation of IRS rules.

On the surface, this appears as a tragic epic of a powerful man gone wild due to the trappings of his defects. The press clippings are reminiscent of other clerics unable to tame the demons lurking deep within. The hall of shame is enough to kindle questions related to the motivations of those who decide to give themselves to the call they profess. From Jim Baker to Jimmy Swaggart and all the way back to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., people are left with a sour taste in their souls due to the misconduct of those who verbalize a faith they are unable to reflect in their actions.

As saddening as all of that may be, this is more than a story about a minister who may have been on the down low with boys in his own church. The noise in the crowd is to tag Long a hypocrite if these allegations are true. And, why not? His anti gay message has harmed many of the gay and lesbians in need of a place to worship void of the negative rhetoric that challenges them to change their evil ways as they find their way to Jesus. The real critique of Long transcends a conversation about what happens when the lights go out. We should pause to reflect on both the theology and ethics that make Long’s bent on ministry in grave discord with the elementary claims of the Christian faith.

Eddie Long, T.D. Jakes and Creflo “Give Me Some” Dollars have become the forerunners in shifting the way African American ministers process the design of faith movements. The departure away from the Church as a community of social reconstruction emerged with the awakening that money can be made in that sacred space. The prophets have been transformed into kings and people are more than willing to bow before their leaders and lavish them with impious riches.

These are multi millionaires who hide behind the words of faith to assemble their businesses. Their marketing strategy is to manipulate people into embracing the notion that God desires them to walk with fame and fortune as a way of modeling what could be in the lives of those who sign on the dotted line by dropping money into the collection plate.

This is a story about how Long uses the money dropped in that collection plate. The public wants to know if he had sex with those young men. We want the gruesome details to unlock the closet of Long’s sex life to bring more fuel to the flame that proves the evils of those in the pulpit. Others will claim Long is only human, and we should be careful not to judge him for what each of us is capable of doing.

So true my friends. Ministers are only human, but who placed Long on the pedestal he stands? Who gave him the power to purchase not one, not two, but four Bentley’s. Who gave him the right to stand before his people and rant about his God given right to be a symbol of success for all to praise? Long created a world that imprisoned him into fulfilling the hollowness of his own claims. He made himself into a king, and the people in return worship him for giving them someone human to praise.

25,000 members believe the charade of his prosperity message. It’s a theology that strips the Christ of humility and replaces the crucified Christ with David on the throne. It takes the message of servant hood and trades it in for a system that opens the door to more money in the bank. It seduces people into giving more and more, while their spirits remain bankrupt due to the superficial theological claims erupting from the pulpit.

Yes, these are serious allegations. If true, and we should give this time to play out, Long used his money and power in a way that tarnished the spirit of these three men. If not true, some things are still true. Long, and those who desire to be like him, should be challenged for using God and the work of the kingdom to lace their pockets with mo money.

Some call them pimps in the pulpit. If they’re pimps it’s time for the ho’s to be set free. So, for those who have participated in a work of faith void of theological substance, run away my child. Find a place where people aren’t being tricked and seduced into pouring buckets of money into the lap of the king. Last time I checked the king was killed and rose on the third day.
He didn’t come back looking for a Bentley.

He came looking for men and women carrying crosses on their backs.

Tiger Woods: More Than Just Sex

For the past six years, I have met with a group of highly analytical people every Saturday. We call ourselves the Saturday morning breakfast club. We gather to discuss a variety of topics. This past week’s talk got a little heated once the name Tiger Woods was placed on the table. Pat Hoffman suggested Woods should apologize for objectifying women. Two hours later I began to see Pat’s point.

I placed the question in my status box on Facebook. I wasn’t a bit shocked at what came back. From, “I’m tired of this topic,” to “You must be kidding” it was clear most believe Woods owes no apology for having sex with “those women.” They grown enough to know what they were getting into. They should apologize to his wife. They participated in this fiasco by coming after Tiger because of his fame and cash.

The consensus among most is the same. The responses to that question leaves me brooding the implications of a world where sex is viewed as no more than a game pitting men versus women for the sake of whatever comes their way. The humanity of the people under the sheets has been stripped and transformed into objects there to satisfy the desire of the one in need of a release.

The names of the objects don’t matter. It doesn’t matter that there is a family back home, that there is a history connected to that warm body. She or he (yes, women do it too) is reduced to a depository there to stimulate his or her need for something missing. She becomes his crack fix. He becomes her mood altering sedative. People aren’t present in that space. They are toys to be played with.

The public has spoken. They knew better. They participated in his act of play. That may be true, but there is a deeper issue to bear in this matter. If Tiger is engaged in a therapeutic process, and he is, then he must dig deeper and deal with the way he has reduced women to no more than those objects for his self-gratification. Until he does that he will remain stuck in a place where he contends he deserved to be the recipient of their offer to play due to his entitlement as a man with money and power.

Having willing participants doesn’t resolve a man or woman of a deeper obligation to consider the humanity of those they use for play. Failing to make that apology absolves responsibility for the way one views those used for sex game. Tiger was able to do it because he minimized those women. In doing so he not only disregarded the worth of those women, he did the same with his wife. He engaged in a practice that has become common within the larger society-the placement of people within boxes to be used at the discretion of the one in control.

Tiger’s wife served a purpose-take care of the children and to make him look good in public space. The women he had sex with served another role-to give him the space to engage in behavior that he felt he deserved as a man. He viewed women like the little white ball he hits on the golf course. They are there for play.

This conversation should not be relegated to a quarrel regarding Tiger’s personal business. As he so eloquently put it, he needs to be left alone to rebuild his relationship with his wife. I raise the question for reasons beyond how the King of the golf course fell in the bunker. Critical in this matter is how the humanity of the other has been detached from the act of sex.

It’s easy to get caught up in the game of sex when no person is connected to the act. To move forward, men and women like Tiger need to examine how they have used others for the sake of their self-gratification. It is true the other has willingly participated in that game, but that doesn’t absolve a person of their responsibility to consider the worth of the people used in the game of sex. Failure to make that acknowledgement creates space for the continuation of the same form of manipulation.

Sorry folks, it’s more than just sex. There’s a person connected to that climatic experience. When women and men are used for the purposes of self-gratifications, the manipulator needs to apologize for living with a screwed up concept regarding the worth of those used in their game. It’s not just Tiger’s cross to bear.

So, go apologize for the game you’ve played.