The Real Problem With #BlackLivesMatter

            Sometimes genocide the slow tide

            I spent most of my college years thinking I was crazy. Things that seemed so easy for my mostly white, mostly light skinned friend group seemed really hard for me. Like maintaining a relationship with an advisor. Like finding an on-campus job. Like working on group projects. I used to write for the school newspaper. I used to be a hardcore activist. I cannot count the number of times I was emotionally assaulted by salty saltines accusing me of reverse-racism. Many of these people verbally assaulted me, but then sought to paint me as the angry Black womyn.

Sometimes genocide the slow tide.

            Fast forward to now. #BlackLivesMatter is trending. Many alumna from my alma mater have hopped on the proverbial bandwagon. Which begs the question: Where was y’all ofays when I was struggling to graduate? Where was y’all when I was getting threats for calling out white supremacy on campus? Where was y’all when I was left behind after matriculating into the real world, unable to find a job, but too burnt out to apply for grad school? What about all the others who get left behind?

Sometimes genocide the slow tide.

            We are a woefully mislead generation that is now standing up for what we believe. The only thing is, we don’t quite know what those beliefs are. In the digital age, or as James Boggs called it, “the age of automation,” one merely needs to type beliefs into a keyboard in order to substantiate them. But I am of the opinion that beliefs are substantiated through ACTION, and ONLY ACTION.

            Yes, there are protests. We must be visible. We must, to use the activisty parlance of our times, show up. But it is not enough to show up simply when the cameras and news reporters are in play. One must always be present, in the privacy of our bedrooms, kitchens and common spaces.

Sometimes genocide the slow tide.

            In addition to the ephemeral nature of the digital age, I would like to indict two other forces in our culture: 1) meritocracy and academia, 2) fame (rags-to-riches) posturing.  

            It has become far too easy to appear to be doing good work. Academia is known for using excessive language to mystify what are often simple ideas. (Of this I am also guilty, a product of my environment). Success, even in activist cultures, is measured by the notoriety of your work, arbitrary qualifiers that can’t really measure impact, and the income generated by that work. Not to mention that it is possible to speak the social justice lingo, and still be an oppressive asshole in your personal life.

           

         Furthermore, pop culture is saturated with images of excess that are not attainable for most. But in the absence of a revolutionary panacea, most folx are, as Azealia Banks put it, “on that get rich." And don’t get me wrong, it can be refreshing to see Black people eatin’. As queer entertainer Mykki Blanco put it, “You don’t have to be political anymore by screaming, you can be political by the sheer show of your success.” But liberation, if it ever comes, is not going to come through the assimilation of marginalized bodies into the existing social order. My gay ass ain’t gon’ be saved just because all of a sudden gay rap artists are checking into the W.

Sometimes genocide the slow tide.

            The prophecy of Gil Scott Heron, powerful though it may be, has been proven wholly false. The revolution will be televised. We are under surveillance. Nothing escapes the electronic gaze. However, the power of Heron’s legacy as a proto-rap icon lay in his uncanny ability to call out the subculture. Even the revolutionaries weren't revolutionary enough for that brother. 

            Our generation, those who have come of age with the internet, sincerely and admirably want to be about something. But you can’t very well achieve if you are replicating macrocosmic injustices interpersonally. And that goes for all of us. Even the Black ones. Put simply, you ain’t right, if you ain’t treatin’ yo’ people right.

Sometimes genocide the slow tide.

This piece is dedicated to all the Black folk out there who have a hard time feeling like they matter, hash tag or no.