When I hear things like “why don’t the blacks get over it,” or white supremacist and racist rhetoric that compares Black People in the United States to others, for me to characterize it as infuriating is violent understatement. As one fascinated by words, their origins, history and meanings, I am cognizant that Black People in the United States are subject to linguistic insult constantly. The constant linguistic insult is accompanied by other types of constant insult from stereotypes to murder; insult that absolutely no other people, on planet Earth, are subjected to. In the words of Adrienne Rich “Language is power…language can be used as a means of changing reality.”
As a fitting prelude to my upcoming article on the symbology of white supremacy and terrorism, and given “the season,” I am inspired to write this piece on “Black Friday.”
It is true that I am the Black Sheep of my family and society at large. I am neither Black As Sin nor Blackamoor (more of a honey-brown) but I have been indicted for having a Black Heart (in more ways than one). Resultantly, I have been Blacklisted on more than a few occasions; Blackballed as well. You see, a man that behaves in a dishonorable or contemptable manner is called a Blackguard.
There are those that read this article that might wish to beat me Black and Blue.
Once, I attended a funeral and most of the attendees were clad in Black garb. The cars in the procession were Black. That morning, as I prepared to depart, my toilet overflowed with Blackwater. Wretched, indeed. During the funeral, the eulogizer mentioned the Blackness of Death.
On my way home, I noticed The Omen of Darkness flying overhead; a Black Crow. As I walked up the pathway to my home, I saw a Black Cat staring intently at me. It had yellow eyes. Black Cats are bad luck and people kill them due to this brainless belief. For reasons I cannot quite put my Black Finger on, I felt the cat and I had something in common.
The “war on terror” familiarized many with Black Operations in the military. Black Ops are, basically, the equivalent of military lawlessness (yes, quite the oxymoron). Many of those rendered “terrorists” resultant of Black Ops were sent to Black Sites. Black sites are clandestine detention facilities operated by a state where prisoners who have not been charged with a crime are often kidnapped, incarcerated without due process or court order, mistreated, murdered, have no recourse and bail is not afforded them.
As a child visiting my grandparents in Kansas each summer, I learned of a terrible illness that caused necrosis in cattle called Blackleg. The animal would have to be “put down.” Ironic. In all fairness, Blackleg is also a term used for a cheating gambler. Luckily, I gamble only with life itself and there is no cheating life because no one gets out of this world alive.
Though my reputation may be Blackened by this writing, I don’t much worry about being Blackmailed as a Black Male. I’ve never gone to a Black Friday event, I don’t like crowds; especially crowds full of superficial, greedy, materialistic idiots. No, no. I think I’ll just keep my Black Ass in my humble abode and eat and drink until I Blackout.
Happy holidays, enjoy your White Christmas.
Black-out.
This prompted me to listen to an old song by a group called Stories, "Brother Louie"