Lemme let Pac bust first. RIP. Also RIP to Eric J. Grant, my high school homie who dropped the intel that some Gardena-Compton Southside Crips knocked Pac down on Monday. Chuck Philips confirmed for the LA Times later. Eric was then was killed himself, because being a pretty boy in Gardena made him susceptible to ill will. But not before he gave me a copy of It Was Written on that school bus outside Downtown Business Magnets in 1996.
The headline at BBC News with copy from New York correspondent Nick Bryant asks the US about what I like to sum up in one fused phrase: niggality. As in, “nigga” and “reality.” Considering my original reaction to Los Angeles-based photographer Tiffany Hobbs’ quip below, and the edited version, screenshot below, I think the answer should be in question form.
How much further do American-Africans need to go as a people to be less aggrieved?
But, that’s apparently not a conversation that an Eastern European who had a child out of wedlock with a Tanzanian national should have. Niggality should be the law of the land, and non-black people need to acquiesce and apologize for slavery? While we as a nation hold our collective breath, I’m just over here browsing my Google Voice to find the recording of a YG interview I did some 6 years ago. Instead I found a recording of a media relations staffer at the Grammy Museum advising me that executive director Bob Santelli would be willing to meet and hash out my grievances against his organization after I brought Leila Steinberg to a meeting with Nwaka Onwusa, who skyrocketed from ticket sales agent to exhibit curator and produced the late great Tupac Shakur exhibit – that Steinberg, a persona non grata with Afeni Shakur, before her death, was not allowed to attend at the opening ceremony. That the exhibit was even produced, some five years after that initial meeting, is legendary. Much like Pac’s mouth.
I will expand and update this post soon, since, let’s just say, I have a lot more to write about on this topic? In a perfect world, I could maybe even contribute something to BBC News, if John Mervin in New York can actually open his email and choose to respond. I’m reporter looking for that kind of opportunity. For the time being, this blog will more than suffice. I’m not here to force anyone’s invisible hand, because Adam Smith I am not. Ultimately, it’s the young people that are going to need to remove the race blinders and race-based hate mongering on social media and engage in real life. I can only do my part and that’s to have laser focus on helping raise my half-Tanzanian daughter to rise about the race dilemma. Having read BHO’s “Dreams From My Father” in 2005 while living in Bucyrus, Ohio, I feel that it is my nasibu, which is the Swahili word for “destiny,” itself rooted in al massir, the Arabic equivalent.