As Your Black World Turns

Though I haven't posted anything major on my blog lately partly due to shifting gears and life's other changes, I wanted to take a moment to share a bit of my research with some of those who either read my blog or manage to contact me on Facebook.

I called this little rant "As Your Black World Turns" based on the soap opera many of us watched with our moms and grandmothers. You know? "As The World Turns"? I can hear the old theme music now. It was an horrible shot at some humor surrounding the discussion of an horrible topic.

Yesterday I had the unfortunate and fortunate opportunity to sit in on a training session with my employer discussing how we might be able to integrate both the understanding of, and treatment for Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome with our African-American clients. Now if you haven't heard of it until now, STOP! Go do some healing homework. And if you are an American of post or pre-industrialization America and you think that this is a bunch of spooky bologna and excuses by Black people to keep making excuses for Black people, then know that PTSS has a weird, psychological effect on you too.

At one point the lecturer asked if anyone in the audience could relate to any of the ideas and postulates she had mentioned. I looked around the room waiting for someone, anyone, African-American or White-American, to chime in with an observation; after moments of silence my own guilt raised it's hand.

I confessed that a few days ago I strolled home to what used to be a very beautiful and quiet community of rowed townhomes to find ten or more teen-aged, shirtless, knucklehead Black boys and a few White boys, all with earrings in their ears and their pants hanging down past their butts, playing tag football in a small cul-de-sac parking lot, a parking lot full of what? Parked cars. And what was the first word under my breath? "Nikkas!" Then I wondered if any other adults had noticed these guys coming thisclose to hitting their cars or the windows of their homes. Better judgement suggests that an adult in at least one of the eight townhomes had to have looked out the window at some point just to see what the noise was about. But did anybody say anything I wondered? Probably not. How do I know? Because I didn't say anything to them either. I got my bags full of Ivy League books out of my van and walked right into my house like a simple-minded monk. Yup, from the smartest to the dumbest of us Negroes, if you think you are immune to PTSS , think again, you've just been misdiagnosed due to having insufficient mental health care coverage! Have you ever wondered what makes Black folks eventually lie down, roll over and accept some of the B-S we see in our neighborhoods? What makes us see all sorts of head-banging, mindless behavior around us everyday followed by the simple response of "times are changing", or "that's just how it is", "nikkas will be nikkas", and "whachu gon do"? The answer? Yup, there is an answer, it's the same affliction that makes a battered woman deal with an abusive man for a long period of time; the same affliction that makes a child with low self-esteem recall how often his parents told him he was a piece of shit; the same affliction that makes a tortured prisoner of war flinch, break out into cold sweats, hallucinate or kill a family member due to paranoia; the same affliction that makes a young girl believe you're gonna walk out on her because everyone else in her life deserted her, is the same affliction that causes Black Americans to just give in, give up, and accept what we needn't. But it didn't just start a few years ago!

Let's open a book.(Malcolm X and Lavar Burton would be proud!)

Out of a little book entitled In Search of the Promised Land: A Slave Family In The Old South, comes some letters from Mr. John Rapier Jr., a grandson of Sally Thomas, a female slave who gave her life to freeing her children of 'mulatto' blood from slavery, to his brother.

John Rapier Jr. was a man of great curiosity, possessing a zeal to emigrate to a country of Blacks who were fully free at a time when the succession of the South started to gain massive strength. The following is some of what Mr. Rapier Jr. had to say about his search in Haiti and Jamaica. Speaking of Haiti he writes, "I came here considerably tinctured and spotted with abolitionism, and universal freedom...but I am now entirely cured of those symptoms of insanity...[I] am now ultra pro-slavery and am satisfied that a greater curse could not be imposed upon the United States or any other country, than the emancipation of the Negro slaves".

Rapier also asserted that "once free, Blacks laid down their shovels and hoes, took up their fiddles and banjos and tambourines, and devoted their lives to dancing, drinking, and playing, interrupting such activities only to steal something to eat and to support their time in idleness". He went on to say that he would only settle in a country full of Blacks if they were slaves only. Yes, he was mixed, but his mother was a slave! He had to be a very sick man to wish people the lot of his mother, a slavewoman who tried to, and succeeded providing freedom to him. This IS Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome.

Weeks later, this time writing from Jamaica, Rapier Jr. says "Kingston is certainly the most woe begone City in the West Indies". He took note of the deserted wharves and wrote in awe that "fine fire proof store houses [were] locked up unoccupied." Laying around at every turn were "lazy and sun stricken negroes...semi-nude women...in every form under the heavens, upon nearly every corner, and cross lane".

I could go on but I will not. Mr. John Rapier Jr. has said enough in my own estimation, for I have the book and many other of his personal letters, to suggest that PTSS is indeed real and worthy of recognition in the world of psychology. Not only that though; there are many other instances and accounts of PTSS which should make it a valid psychosomatic illness, an illness the white world of psychology has been all too quick to dismiss or ignore.

Now, I'm beginning to question the motive for the American Colonization Society. Did the men of this organization want to ship Blacks off because they were so lowly? Did White men see how awful slavery was and couldn't bare to treat the psychological effects of it? Did they realize that they couldn't treat it's effects, that they made an horrible monster that eats everything in it's way and it's own self? Or were they just scared?

Here is another question though. Are Black folks afraid too? Afraid of knowing just how sick we really are?

Weekly Gathering

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Insha'Allah, we will meet with Shaykh Husain for the weekly gathering on Friday, May 8, after Maghrib at the Islamic Center of Chicago (ICC.) Maghrib Salah is at 7:58 pm CDT. Event details are available on the Weekly Dhikr page.

In case you missed last week's talk, you can listen online - Judging Ourselves Honestly. Audio archives of past talks are available on the General Talks page.

The program will be broadcast live over the Internet. The link will be active on the home page shortly before the talk begins (approximately 8:15 pm CDT - Convert to Local Time.)

A Father's Promise

An old college buddy recently posted a note on Facebook and with his permission, I have placed it here for all those Black fathers out there who rarely get their due, for those who hardly ever hear a voice just like their own. Enjoy.

By Darius Miller

This year I turn the big 3-0. As the day of reckoning approaches, I’ve found myself looking back while also thinking ahead. Now that I have children, my thoughts tend to drift toward fatherhood. It’s probably the same for most parents. You sit there looking eye-to-eye with someone who looks weirdly like you, or in my case, just like you. It’s cool, it’s scary, it’s unsettling, all at the same time. I was out rough housing with my three boys over the weekend (a pick-up game of tackle football – they loved it!), and it struck me.

These are “your” children. I mean, I know I contributed to their conception, and I know that I feed, clothe and shelter them, but it really hit me that their “mine.” It wasn’t just that we shared the same DNA. I was struck by the fact that I have the responsibility and the privilege to help shape their character and to help them grow into their purpose.

The interesting piece to the parenthood puzzle, is that no parent is perfect (I say that as if you didn’t already know it). Regardless of income, occupation, or station in life, most parents, like most people, are broken. Some in obvious ways – others in far more subtle respects. Many are still trying to find themselves; indeed, some are still tending the wounds of troubled childhoods, while others are wrestling with the effects of poor choices or tough circumstances in adulthood. It wouldn’t strike any of us as odd that many new parents feel incomplete and insufficient for the task before them. All parents carry with them their own hang ups and bang ups, shortcomings and blind spots. Nevertheless, the mystery of it all is that God knows all of this. God knows that we’re all still struggling with our own issues. God knows that we often carry the baggage of real and/or perceived past grievances with us into parenthood. He knows that at the core, many of us are still self-absorbed, dare I say self-centered. Even so, God entrusts the imperfect, for the seemingly impossible task of rearing children.

I recall sitting in the ultrasound technician’s room, as my wife and I went for the big “20-week check up.” We were expecting our third child. I sat there with my oldest son, who was just 1 ½ on one leg, and my second-born, who was just 6 months old, cuddled in his infant carrier next to me. I sat staring at the monitor waiting to hear, “It’s a boy,” or perhaps, “It’s a girl!” (Note: I know some of us prefer to keep the gender of our children a secret until delivery, but after having three children in a row, we weren’t really up for surprises.) Before the technician even parted her lips, I knew it. I was the father of another boy. (After all, I had been reviewing ultrasound images for almost two years. I was turning into an expert in my own right.)

Now, one would think that I’d be ecstatic. Three boys in a row…Three boys to go fishing with, to wrestle with, to go camping and backpacking…to play football in the backyard. Three boys to teach to shave and to defend themselves…three boys to command to do yard work (I’m still looking forward to that day!), three boys to watch grow strong in mind, body and spirit. But, I wasn’t. Instead, it felt like a 500-pound weight landed on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I was at a loss for words. All I could think about was the responsibility that came with rearing three boys. The Herculean task of shaping the lives of three boys who would, God willing, one day become men. What did I know? I was 28 years old. My dad, although there, had not “really” been there. Who was I to nurture, to protect, to love and to discipline three boys? How would I rear them in an increasingly perverse and corroding culture or prepare them to be strong, wise, God-fearing men, to be proper future husbands and fathers?

Lost in a web of self-doubt and fear, what I did in that moment was to make a promise. I promised that while I couldn’t ensure that I would be equal in my treatment, after all, with three kids, there’s no way to ensure equality, I would promise to be just. I promised to take care and time in learning how God had fashioned each one of them. I promised to learn each of their personalities and proclivities, their natural bends and inclinations. (To date, I’ve learned that Camden is strikingly bright, yet often hard to satisfy ( aren’t most toddlers). I’ve learned that Case has a giant’s heart, but reacts disproportionately to perceived wrongs (middle-child syndrome). More, I’ve learned that Cade is fun and inquisitive, but always looking for a fight (younger-child syndrome).)

I promised that although I wouldn’t be perfect, I would be hyper present and ever practical. I promised to shield them when needed, and to expose them to life’s truths when ready. I promised to pray over them daily, to read to them regularly (not just Dr. Seuss, but Garvey, Dubois, Frost, Whitman, Sanchez, Hughes, Poe, Hemingway, Cullen, Gates, Gregory and Karenga)…to tell them I loved them before I left for the day and as soon as I returned home in the evening. I promised to discipline them consistently and soundly, yet without breaking their spirits. I promised to be the best husband I could be, after all, the quality of that relationship would have as much of an impact on them as anything else I might do.

Further, I promised that when they became men, I would unselfishly and freely release them…trusting that I had done what I could to prepare them for their individual callings. I promised not to be too hard on myself, when I was too quick to chastise or too slow to listen. Rather, I promised to always apologize promptly, earnestly, completely. I promised to forgive myself, not if, but rather when I fell short in one or more of the aforementioned areas. I promised to remember that I too rely on God’s grace and mercy each day.

More aptly, I promised to always remember and take solace in the fact that God had entrusted me, the wholly imperfect, for the seemingly impossible.

That was my promise...

A Prophetic Example, The Most Beautiful Conduct

The following words are displayed outside a college in Gulbarga, India:

In short, a life which fully represents all aspects of human existence and combines all that is best and noblest in terms of sentiments and behavior is the life of the Prophet Muhammad(peace be upon him)-the highest standard for everybody, in all times and places.

1. Supposing you are a rich man, you have an ideal to follow in the merchant of Mecca and the treasurer of Bahrain.
2. If you are poor, you must emulate the example of the internee of Shahab ibn Abi Talib and (later) the guest of the people of Medina.
3. If you happen to be a king, you had better acquaint yourself with the biography of the Sultan of Arabia.
4. If you are a commoner, learn a lesson from the conduct of the subject of the Quraish.
5. If you are a victor, think of the commander of the battles of Badr and Hunain.
6. If you belong to the vanquished, seek inspiration from the events of the battle of Uhud.
7. If you are a teacher, let the guide of Suffah [the Bench] be your ideal.
8. If you are a student, conceive of the one whose guide was the archangel Gabriel.
9. If you are a preacher, listen to the sermons of the orator of the mosque of Medina.
10. If you wish to spread the message of truth, remember the performance of the benefactor when he was lonely and helpless.
11. If you succeed in establishing the power of Islam and overpowering your enemies, think of the role of the conqueror of Hejaz.
12. If you want to build up your business and improve your lot, follow the example of management set by the owner of the lands of Bani Nuzair, Khaibar, and Fidaq.
13. If you are an orphan, do not forget the beloved son of Abdallah and Aminah.
14. If you are a child, recall the childhood of the ward of Abdallah Saadiyah.
15. If you are a judge, refer to the life of the arbiter who entered the Kaaba before sunrise and fixed the black stone at its proper place

Then, wherever you may be and whatever state you are in, the Prophet Muhammad(peace be upon him) is indeed the light which can illimunate your life.

This sign provides an array of contemporary and hadith-based ethics.

Saudi King Says, "Make us proud boy".

Okay. Okay. Enough already. Before you all get out the green Saudi flags and learn the Saudi National Anthem(what? do they really have one?), you might want to take a second, third, or fourth look at the New York Post article about this 'Saudi Obama'(I didn't make this up) that some folks are apparently in a tizzy over. I guess since it was reported just days ago that BLACK is BACK, or just IN and NEW if you've been drinking haterade, finding out about a Muslim with Black skin being invited to recite the Quran in the holiest city in Saudi Arabia can be rather shocking! But you have no idea how shocking all of this really is. Lets take a look... for real.

Right off the bat upon reading that Shaykh Adil was "the son of a poor immigrant from the Persian Gulf" I wondered just where his people came from in the 'Persian Gulf'. Today, using that term to describe people and their ancestry is rather vague and certainly throughout Arab history they used names that connoted where they were from, so who in the heck chose the words 'Persian Gulf'? True, further along in the article the author informs us that his father was from modern-day United Arab Emirates. Hmmm, either there were a whole heck of a lot Black people there that folks were never told about or SH. Adil's mother was, in all likelihood, an Arab of low stock herself. I'm just saying.... since when do poor immigrants in the Kingdom get hoity-toity valley girls?

Gosh, over the last two years, Muslims the world over have been confronted with and are confronting intra-religious and extro-religious racism with definitive splits developing throughout. Now if we are to take the author's report as true, saying that leading prayers at the Grand Mosque is "usually reserved for pure-blooded Arabs from the Saudi heartland" strikes of a long-lasting racism, one that bumps its head against a very historical moment in Islamic history(keep reading).

The article goes on, "...he was taken aback when the phone rang last September and a voice told him that King Abdullah had chosen him as the first black man to lead prayers in Mecca." Why is the West, or segments of the 'West' being informed about this now? "Since then, Sheik Adil has been half-jokingly dubbed the “Saudi Obama.” See, and you thought I was joking. But this is where things get a little more serious. Suggesting that SH. Adil is such a man, there are all kinds of questions to be asked. How about, was his mother from the upper echelons of Saudi society? We now know Obama's white side has some pretty elitist genes. Or what about the fact that as an Imam at the Grand Mosque he still has no political influence? Say what you want, but being appointed by one King to sing(I know thats wrong but laugh anyway-we Muslims still need to learn to do that at ourselves) doesn't equate being the elected official of a country with veto powers and access to that football. We know what President Obama has said about racism and classicism in America. You know, that there is no White America, no Black America, no Hispanic America, etc., etc., but in this article SH. Adil throws out a very questionable statement attributed to Prophet Muhammad(peace be upon him). Though SH. Adil said, "Any qualified individual, no matter what his color, no matter where from, will have a chance to be a leader, for his good and his country’s good." He also said "The prophet told us that social classes will remain, because of human nature,...these are part of the pre -Islamic practices that persist." I'm not so certain this is the official view of the Saudi ruling family nor should we assume folks on the ground really feel this way either. And as for what the prophet said, can somebody please find this hadith and compare it to his farewell speech? You know, the one Muslims, well some of them anyway, have used to negate certain folks' historical battle against Arab racism? Duh. If it is out there today you better believe it was the order of the day centuries ago and the 'Islamic ummah' in the world, but especially in Saudi Arabia, hasn't done a whole lot to curb it. I mean, its not like the Mutawayn are down for EOE rights(ponder the irony of its founder) and civil liberties or anything.

I also found it funny that SH. Adil cautioned the author that any racism was not the result of Islam but from pre-Islamic ignorance. But wait, since we know Muslims love being trendy and following the next Islamic Idol(did you get it?) casting their votes from their iphones today, how about considering how Muslims of yesteryear felt about dark-skinned folks? There are countless writings by prominent theologians throughout Islam's history extolling the virtues of Arabs over Blacks and everybody else. The writings have been swept under the rug by some Muslims somewhere with some major cash(hinthint). So maybe he was right, its not the fault of Islam, its the fault of a whole bunch of respected Islamic scholars!

SH. Adil also stated that "Our Islamic history has so many famous black people,...It is not like the West." Okay, so where are all these famous Black people in Islamic history? Why don't we have compendiums to this effect? According to much of what many Muslims in the West have seen, Islamic historians tried hard to white-wash Black figures in the religion's history. And I can't imagine that the brother is that ignorant of famous Black people in the West. Here is a tantalizing piece for debate(on someone else's blog), but I wonder just how many Black major players the West has had since, say, um, 1500 AD or so. Barring the history of Muslims in West Africa and to degrees less, East Africa, what Blacks have had an impact on global Islam or Mecca and Madina besides the wealthy Mansu Musa and Jahiz(and he was thought to be crazy)? I should be able to cite many others right? Wonder why I can't.

The author mentioned the former Saudi ambassador to the United States, Bandar bin Sultan, and the son of Prince Sultan and a dark-skinned concubine from southern Saudi Arabia. I don't think his mom was "from" southern Arabia. By most accounts, the woman was Sudanese or 'African'. He failed to mention the controversy surrounding ibn Sultan's lineage, a lineage that made others in the royal family fear his rise to ruling status among the almost-white Saudi pimps, nevertheless, he is currently sitting quietly by his father's side.

I hate to burst the celebratory balloon but this simply isn't a praiseworthy action on the part of the Saudi government. It is a form of riyya' and can constitute shirk. Thats right, the King himself said he had something to prove, something to show the world, that Saudi Arabia isn't that racist after all. Try convincing Allah man, get real, and stop using Blacks as political pawns.