Christopher Dorners, Bigger Thomas, and their Native Sons, merged into a "perfect" storm during the Presidency of Barack Obama and global warning.

Standing in the ruins of another black man's life

or flying through the valley

separating day and night

I am am Death,

cried the Vulture,

for the People of the Light.

Caron brought his raft

from the sea that sails on souls

and I saw the scavenger departing

taking warm hearts to the cold

he knew the ghetto was a haven

for the meanest creature ever known

-Gil Scott Heron 

Ex LAPD Officer Christopher Dorner's death hung in the balance.

Beleaguered, Black America wanted him captured alive so he could talk to the world, for he had a lot to say. And by the time that he would have been executed by the state of California in San Quentin Prison, he would have been transformed into Nat Turner Rising in the Black Community.

 Christopher Dorner, memorialized in tattoo 

White America wanted him to die as Bigger Thomas, which required him to die mute, which is how he died.

Years ago, like most works of Black fiction,  I read Richard Wright's Native Son, outside the classroom.  It was far different than Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, which I loved.

 I was greatly disappointed.  For a while, I read nothing more from Richard Wright. 

Native Son left me cold, substituting literary value, for brutal shock. Unlike protest novels, painstakingly lists the sins of the oppressor, Native Son simply tells a bleak story of the "trigger"
of every white man, the rape and murder of an attractive white women by a big Black male, unknown. I am equally sure, most Black men, to varying degrees intrinsically feel this connecting if they have frequent interactions with any white women. 

I call it "Emmett Till moments", when you're laughing with a white female neighbor while walking your dogs, or spiritedly debating an issue left unresolved from the classroom outside the doors of the library,  and all of a sudden, it comes over you, wow I could have been brutally murdered for this, not that long ago. 

James Baldwin's essay Notes of A Native Son,  taught me the importance of Richard Wright's novel Native Son.

Langston Hughes

Native Son answered the question of what really happens to Langston Hughe's "Dream Deferred", that's deeply rooted in our emancipation from 400 years of slavery, when the Federal Government:

implemented Reconstruction policies that began to inject full Black representation and participation at all levels of government,

and,

promised forty acres of land and mule to every Black family.

After slavery, Black people wanted to be left alone, so we could begin to heal, while doing for our selves with our land what we did for white America for over four hundred years as objects of labor and toil.  Because these "objects" instead of being wood and steal, were made of  flesh, blood, and bone, we had to be "managed", by whip, bible, rape, castration, mutilation, torture, etc, to make round pegs fit into the triangular pyramid of American Chattel Slavery.  Then, smashed back in, when we popped back out, due to this highly unnatural fit.

Forms of "management" 

The process of being"managed", has created an organic and highly toxic cancer inside us today, which is what Langston Hughes meant when he said "sags like a heavily load" It is also the question of "does it explode"

Bigger Thomas answered the question, by doing both

 Once my 145 pound French Mastiff, Truth, and I watched over my neighbors house cat while she went home for the Christmas holidays.  Twice a day, Truth and I would trek through the snow to her house.  I would take care of the cat's needs, while Truth explored the house, followed by the cat at a safe distance, every day coming closer, once it discovered that the only interest Truth had in it, was as a source of smells.

Truth

My neighbor knowing of my love for James Baldwin, brought me back an itching of his grave stone located in the Fern Cliff Cemetery in Westschester County, New York, where she's from.

I was surprised that not only does James's mother,  Emma Berdis Jones Baldwin's mortal coil rest beside his- and that she'd outlived him-, but also, there are no other words marking the grave stone of this Black man of infinite literary ability, who was also a radical Black activist, that bore the burden of both Blackness and homosexuality, with so much amazing grace, humor, and courage, that it deepened the roots of his love for Black people.

It's therefore not surprising when James Arthur Baldwin wrote about Bigger Thomas, he combined his socratic literary gift with deep love, which  in this rare case weakened an otherwise brilliant analysis. James's love, liberated Bigger out of the dark dungeon, that Richard Wright created him in, as America's Frankenstein Monster.

Baldwin states;  

Its' an idea which is the frame work of the novel, presenting Bigger as the herald of disaster, the danger signal of a more bitter time to come when not Bigger alone but all his kindred will rise, in the name of the many thousands who perished in the fire and the flood and by rope and torture, to demand their rightful vengeance." But it is not quite fair, it seems to me to exploit the national innocence in this way. The idea of Bigger as a warning boomerangs not only because it is quite beyond the limit of probability  that Negroes in America will ever achieve the means by wreaking vengeance upon the state but also because it cannot be said that they have any desire to do so"

Then Baldwin goes on to write;  

Native Son does not convey the altogether savage paradox of the American Negro situation of which the social reality which we prefer with such hopeful superficiality to study is but, as it were, the shadow. It is not simply the relationship of oppressed to oppressor, of master to slave, not is it motivated merely by hatred; it is also, literally and morally, a blood relationship, perhaps the most profound reality of the American experience, we cannot begin to unlock it until we accept how very much it contains of the force and anguish and terror of love. Negroes are Americans and their destiny is the countries destiny.

James Baldwin, writing is all too current today,  yet he was writing at a more optimistic time
for Black America.  Martin Luther King's Civil Rights Movement was gathering strength in an era of legendary Race men and women.  Malcolm X was just released from prison where he converted to Islam, Angela Davis was talking back in high school, and Congressman Adam Clayton Powel  was using his office (the only politician to ever do so) to mobilize and organize the whole American Black Community.  DuBois and Robinson were still around, along with numerous other progressive, great Black Artists, and activists .  James Baldwin was angry enough to "get all up" in Attorney General  Robert Kennedy's Face, but he was also part of a wave of radical change sweeping the land, and yes it would bring lot's of death, lots of blood and loss, especially in the Black south, but white violence could not stop it.

Today, like that Biggie Smalls song "Things Done Changed"

"Back in the days, our parents took care of us 
   Look at em now, they even fuckin scared of us 
call'in for help cause they caint maintain
 damn shit don changed! " 

Richard Wright was a lot less optimistic than James Baldwin even though James was more vocal and confrontational.  Maybe it was because, unlike James who group up in the north, Richard was born on a plantation in Roxie Mississippi.

Richard Wright

Richard's construction of Bigger Thomas as a warning, wasn't 100% accurate.
James was right that we've not risen up against white America, nor shown any inkling to do so as a group.  But unfortunately, America being a purposefully optimistic nation, mostly chose James's side, over Richard's gut feeling, which now bleeds out  all over urban Black America today.

Moments before Milton Wardlaw kills Kiyanna Salter
On a CTA Bus by "mistake"

Black youth mob in Detroit 

Black youth morns killing of a friend in Chicago

 Black youth mob of looters in Philadelphia   

Two generations of Black youth have "risen-up" with a least two more in preparation to follow. They are being trained by US.Corporations, including the entertainment industry, who funded Urban Generals like Chief Keef.

And like Biggie Smalls said even their parents are "fucking scared of them" and so are we.

Chief Keef "loyal" to a fault representing
the O'Block Black Disciples  

And it's a generational family affair
Chief Keeps mother represents O'Block 

Don't forget,  unlike Bigger Thomas, Keef isn't one dimensional,
besides for guns, he also loves "S.O.S. A."

More alarming is that James was wrong when he said "Negroes are Americans and their destiny is the countries destiny" Like a rubber band, contraction and expansion are natural to our economy. The various levels are debatable,  but clearly our economy was not designed to be systematically looted 
by plutocratic corporations simply for profit. What they are not telling us is that the robber band has broken given rise to alternative and new cynical economies supported by government that feed off   Black bodies.

Finally, James writes that Native Son doesn't convey "the savage paradox of the "American Negro situation"  which we prefer with "hopeful superficiality". What it does conveys, James says, is "the shadow" that is too constricted as a "black and white relationship of oppressed to oppressor,  master to slave, motivated merely by hatred".

What he seems to be saying is,  not only is Wright missing the Savage Paradox by focusing solely on it's  ethereal shadow, but that  "America" does  prefer his savage paradox although with "hopeful superficiality". It seems like James is speaking for himself as an optimists. 

James makes the case, often made by both Black and white liberals today, that this relationship is symbiotic and and what will save us  "literally and morally, a blood relationship, perhaps the most profound reality of the American experience", that "we cannot begin to unlock it until we accept how very much it contains of the force and anguish and terror of love." This the deeply moving prose,  chocked-full in every paper he put ink on. it's wrong

I think if James was with us today, he would be the first to admit, that if America was ever interested in his concept of  the his "savage paradox" it was at such a "hopefully superficial"  level that the interest was at best meaningless and at worse was a hoax (perhaps unconsciously) to protect the status-quo.  

Further I think James Baldwin's  "savage paradoxes with hopeful superficiality " has become a well paying part of the Non Profit Industrial Complex, which continues to status quo while exploiting poor black people. Of course James could not have foreseen this part.

Bigger Thomas was the Black Shadow that Brother Richard set loose upon America as a clarion angry baleful warning of things to come if we did not heed to what white America was building. We failed numerous times to listen and the dark shadows have been released from the vast urban dungeons,  Ironically merging into a perfect storm during the during the Presidency of Barack Obama and global warning.         

Shadows in real like are more damaged than those of fiction. These shadows "say fuck it", and gleefully roll the dice of life and death every day on the block. They are American child terrorist, who unlike child soldiers in Africa did not have to be kidnapped into it. 

 They are now the shadows you feel following close behind (be you white or Black)
 and you can feel their scorn because they know the truth. White America created them, but Black America allowed them to be created and also profited off their misery and suffering. 

purveyors of post race 

A mainstream Black church at worship of material idiols

 We will not face these Black shadows let alone admit our culpability. When we see them we cross the street or pass them quickly head down between hope and prayer. Richard warned us. Now they don't give a fuck cause you never really did. And I know he could not have predicted they would first devastate their own communities.

I wish Richard Wright and James Baldwin were still around though. There was a socratic and proud earthy boldness in Black artists and activists back then. Black music was a sound track for struggle and revolution. And as Cornel West said, Black children could turn on the TV and see that somebody loved  and was willing to die for them.

Gil Scott Heron

 Today art and activism are controlled and commodified by corporations,  universities, and white liberal non profits.

The late great Manny Marable in his ground breaking biography "Malcolm X A Life Reinvention"   wrote about a meeting between Chole Ardelia Wofford aka Toni Morrison and Malcolm X
at a coffee shop in Harlem. He had just returned from Africa and she needed his help and influence with a struggle she was engaged in with the Pan African Community in New York.  Today Wofford  is at Oberlin College and this is a good thing. But Oberlin is far removed from the diminishing organic Black radical left in America partially because ending segregation  did opened doors of opportunities in academia and the philanthropic world. Yet a price was to be paid. To be there a silence was demanded when you first walk into the door. The problem then comes when you get big enough to challenge the silence, you have forget what it was that you originally came to do.    

I got them Bessie Smith Blues. I need some of that good Potlikker

 Yestrday, I woke in a cold sweat.  

I dreamt that the Chicago Police Department had been privatized and small deadly drones were patrolling the streets of Chicago and that Penny Pritzker had purchased the rights of the word, "Revolution". 

I'm so sorry Hadia, Peace. 

It's dark more often than not in Chicago and today was the funeral of 15 year old Hadiya Pendleton who was gunned down by an anonymous Native Son. But that doesn't matter, because if any one cared about responsibility for this sweet child's tragic murder, their was more than enough culpability sitting in the front row VIP section of her funeral, and I certainly don't mean her parents and family who are victims as well. 

 Tonight I've turned up all the lights and am burning saffron, nagi, and sandalwood incense, to keep the bad spirits away, a large dog barks in the distance, and my body feels cold.

So I put a mess of greens on my stove and turned on some Bessie Smith, cause I got the blues and I need some Potlikker.

Bessie Smith St. Louis Blues 

My crazy but  much loved Aunt V left Chicago years ago after all most killing an abusive boy friend who was trying to kill her.  I never liked him, he came off as  robotically nice and quite, in the way of men who've learn to hide their violence behind a thin practiced calm, but as a child I could also sense fear of him on his younger daughter, the child of another women.  My Aunt's relationship with him finally ended, with his hands around her neck and a knife in her hand, both unconscious and close to death inside his white Cadillac wrapped around a light poll on 80th and Cottage Grove. She wasn't supposed to walk again and he still can't, which at least provides some safety for women, because apparently he was a smooth talker.

Aunt V never looked back, except for her yearly New Year pilgrimage to visit my mother and to remember why she left this city for good. 

This year she looked me up and down and said "boy you aint drinking enough Potlikker!" She's the only person besides for my late Grandfather ( my mother's father) to call me boy. 

Taking umbrage I said I work out and can do 100 push ups and sit ups, straight. 

"Boy, don't bullshit me!  I'm talking about yo life force, it's all gray. You need to drink your Potlikker once a month in the summer and twice a month during the Winter.  Didn't you learn nothing from Englewood?" Yes she's part of the old Englewood crew, some good people gone.

I informed her that generally, I eat greens about once a month. 

Well niggah,  she said (like me my aunt has no problem appropriating the N word of course she says it better than I), " then you aint making em right". 

So the next day my Aunt dragged my non cooking mother along as her driver, over to my house to supervise the making of Potlikker. 

I purchased a large quantity, colloquially called a "mess" of collard, mustard, and turnip greens.  My Aunt had no problem with the way I cleaned them.  I experience taught me how grime will ruin a mess of greens and I also I finally checked my desire to over season food, common for a man who is alone trying to maintain a tradition of great southern women cooks in the family .  


I put the large pot on the stove and as soon as I turned up the heat high, she snapped. " Niggah  you free! You aint cooking for white folks. Turn that dame flame all the way low. The fire needs to be blue just dancing around the burner, boy, just flickering.  And you gotta keep watch on it to make sure the flame don't go out on that old stove of yours.  For the first time my greens cooked for four hours, which is the difference between regular greens and greens with Potlikker. 

 My Aunt and mom only stuck around for the first two hours because they had a card game to hosts and Aunt V had already diagnosed the problem ( I was cooking them for around an hour and a half on high heat as oppose to four hours on very low heat) while explaining the history and importance of Potlikker, while teaching me to make corn bread.  V now informed me that corn bread is generally served as part of a meal along with just the Potlikker, but she wanted me to know how to make both. The rest of the history I filled in with old New Orleans and African cook books that I've been purchasing on line as part of my collection.

Greens were originally from West Africa where they were cooked as a sauce and served over rice as they are still today. In America they came over with the enslaved Africans, becoming a staple not just for them but for their captors as well. The captive Africans and Black people shared many of their traditions, which drastically changed the drab European food for the better,  but they kept important aspects for themselves, like Polikker. 

When they cooked the greens for their captors, they took the Potlikker back for their own families to supplement the often meager and poor quality rations provided them. Potlikker is the most beneficial part of the greens because it's loaded with vitamins including A, B, C and E and nutrients like potassium and iron, that flow from the greens to what becomes with regular tap water an elixir at the bottom of the pot, that is generally stored in the refrigerator or frozen for later use.

Potlikker separated from the Greens

 During the days of chattel slavery and Jim Crowism, Potlikker was often proscribed by rural doctors and healers as a cure-all for any thing that ails from common colds, to colic, rabies, and fatigue. 

Clearly I'm feeling well enough to write this tribute to Potlikker and the African Diaspora who created it.



    

 Potlikker and Corn Bread