Dear God, If You Please

Dear God, If You Please (1992)

Matthew L. Watley

 

Dear God, if you please, let me be paranoid.

I know this sounds like the strangest request.

But it's the only thing can fill this void.

And until it is fulfilled, I'll find no rest.

 

It seems today that the world is against me,

The only reason being that my skin is black.

I try to convince myself this just isn't true,

Yet all of the evidence shows it as fact.

 

I see poor education and unequal chances.

I see people mistreated---their skin like mine.

I am told these things don't really exist,

But I just don't think they're all in my mind.

 

Why then would I still not believe?

Because I'd lose all my hope, I'd lose all faith.

If I accepted my suspicions simply as truth,

Then wouldn't this world be an evil place?

 

So, God, you must see the need for me to be paranoid,

Then this world really wouldn't be so bad.

Then all that I see is not a true picture.

Lord, let me be paranoid so I know I'm not mad.

 

Conversations with God: Two Centuries of Prayers by African  Americans by James M. Washington, 1994, HarperCollins.



At the carwash

It was a Saturday morning. The truck had sat under a sap-producing tree for too long. While on a trip through town, my wife and I noticed a group of young people washing cars on a lot adjacent to an auto tune business.  "They'll get the sap off the truck," we both agreed.  Sure enough it was a group of college students from East Central University, the dance squad and the cheerleader team. You just might find him on this page.

One of the cheerleaders notice my t-shirt with the logo from the Negro League Hall of Fame in Kansas City, Missouri. Nice shirt he said.  Thanks, but puzzled by his comment. Yes, now to mention it, that is one of my favorite shirts and favorite spots for Negro league baseball. Said he had one with all of the Negro league teams and their logos on it.  Said I could have it if I'd give him my address, that he'd done the same a while back for a friend who'd liked a Michael Jordan shirt he was wearing.  Honored at your generous thought, but, no thanks.  Keep wearing it and showing the love about things that matter.  He could wear it in crowds where I could not go.  People need to know about the Negro leagues and their contribution to baseball and justice.

We also talked about black farmers and social justice. Not a long conversation, just a short one while they were cleaning my truck.

The point? We live in a small world. People notice. People chat things up.

I was moved by this brief conversation.

I am going to google his squad, find out his name, and follow him and his cheer leading squad through his years at East Central University. 

Thanks, young man, for the chat. Made my  day.

Shoun Hill, Photographer, Black Farmer Cause

I met Shoun Hill a couple of years ago.  We were on the land at a function sponsored by the Black Farmers and Agriculturalists Association. We had music, food, furniture, t-shirts, and golf carts all around.  The stage was Gary Grant's front porch. A marvelous occasion.

Shoun had come up from Georgia where he was doing a photography fellowship. My first image of him is that of Shoun emerging from a cloud of dust, camera in hand, as he took photographs up close and personal of a black farmer harvesting peanuts in Tillery, North Carolina.  At that time he was doing work that he describes in this video that follows.

Now, he is fund raising for an important photographic project that will tell the stories of Black farmers and their struggles to hold on to their land.  Art, photography, and music are incredible ways to tell the story.

Early on there was John Ficara, an incredible talent with his camera.

Now there is Shoun Hill. Remember that name.  Shoun Hill.

I plan on supporting his work via my pocketbook.  I hope you will consider doing the same. There are some tax write-off possibilities as well as perks that he will put in our hands.

Here is the link to his fund raising page.

Here is the link to his photography page.

Please forward these links around to your family and friends.

It is a noble cause.

No More, No More

Listening to "No More Auction Block" on spotify this morning got the blood flowing again. Versions of the song by Bob Dylan, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Paul Robeson, Ella Jenkins, Odetta, Pete Seeger, The Harvesters, Frantz Cialec, and others stirred my soul, especially Dylan's and Odetta's. That reminded me of a stirring several months back when the muse was active, to put words to that marvelous old tune that would chronicle in some ways the stories of black farmers.

On these pages and in thousands and thousands of other pages the stories have been told.  To the white farmer goes the advantages, and especially to the large corporate farmer, and goodbye to the small family farm, and more so to the black-owned family farm.

Here is Robeson's version:



Here are Waymon's words reflecting upon the plight of the black farmer. These words are copyrighted to me, but feel free to sing them.  Sing them loud and sing them with feeling.

No more sleepless  nights for me,

            No more, no more
No more sleepless nights for me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more wonderin’ when for me,

            No more, no more
No more wonderin’ when for me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more govm’t threats to me,

            No more, no more
No more govm’t threats to me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more idle fields for me,

            No more, no more
No more idle fields for me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more courthouse steps for me,

            No more, no more
No more courthouse steps for me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more land loss tales for me,

            No more, no more
No more land loss tales for me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more hangin’ from a tree,
            No more, no more
No more hangin’ from a tree,
            Many thousands gone.

No more empty promises for me,

            No more, no more
No more empty promises for me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more IRS duns for me,

            No more, no more
No more IRS duns for me
            Many thousands gone.

No more injustices done to me,
            No more, no more
No more injustices done to me,
            Many thousands gone.

No more courthouse steps for me,

            No more, no more
No more courthouse steps for me,
            Many thousands gone.

Things to ponder. Many things to ponder.

Satchel Paige: Graphic Novel

There are several comic book readers in my family. Comics got me onto the path of reading.  My youngest son gifted me recently with a 1955 Classic comic about Davy Crockett.  It brought back a lot of memories.  Those were the days of Archie,  Batman and Robin, the Green Lantern, and Superman.  In my personal collection are the Book of Genesis Illustrated, word for word from the King James text, and Miller's Holy Terror, and a couple of others, along with a few others.   Rumor has it that justice oriented graphic comics are here somewhere, gifts of my oldest son, but I can't find them.  Maybe they've been misplaced in our moves over the last few years.

While my sons and grandsons still read and collect those comics, my reading interests have changed.  I enjoy keeping up with the old favorites via them. My interests lean toward social justice themes.  One overlap popped up recently.

Satchel Paige:  Striking Out Jim Crow, written by James Sturm and Rich Tommaso with an introduction by Gerald Early, and published by The Center for Cartoon Studies, is a wonderful graphic novel.  Written through the lense of Emmet Wilson, sharecropper and former baseball player, the story gives the historical background of farming while black on someone else's land and how it was simply another version of slavery and the plantation days.  It was dangerous to speak out against the white landowners. You might wind up wounded or dead.  Ask Mr. Wilson.

Against this story of pain, suffering, and humiliation arises Satchel Paige, one of the most notable players from the Negro Leagues, a rookie for the Cleveland Indians in `1942, and an inductee into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1971.  His story is remarkable.  He helped change history. Though he came across as the consummate showman, he was a serious and gifted athlete.

I'll not rob you of the pleasure of reading the entire book.  I hope you'll purchase it and read it to the children so that our future can be different from our past.  One quote though. Long after Emmet had retired from baseball due to an injury, and during the hard days of working the land, he also had a son,  Emmet, Jr. One day he pulls out a souvenir from his baseball days, the day he got a hit off Satchel and got an autographed baseball from him.  As he gave the ball to his son, he said, "For the first time, I told Emmet, Jr. the story of how his daddy went head-to-head with Satchel Paige. And unlike them Tuckwilla boys, his daddy came out on top. For the first time since I played ball, since Emmet, Jr. was a baby, I felt somethin' on the inside. I remembered the type of man I am. I gave Emmet, Jr. that ball....I hope it reminds him of who he can be."

Here are some links.  Here is the book.  Here is a review of the book.  Here is the official Satchel Paige web page.

Red Tails, the Movie, A Must See

The story of Tuskegee airmen in WWII is a must see for those who care about justice and for those who are unwilling to let stories of courage die.  Directly from the Jim Crow rule of law at the time, facing the reality that Jim Crow ways of thinking and living were alive and well on the battlefield, these men fought Hitler's army, sometimes their own fellow airmen, and for freedom in America, creating along the way an incredible legacy.

See this link for more details.

Check out this one as well.

Put at the top of the use of your entertainment dollar that of seeing this movie.  I'm also going to go buy the book from which this movie was taken.

Hit this link for some background on the movie.

On Martin Luther King Day 2012

Today is a day of reflection and service.  My pondering has led me into such places as the current status of civil rights for people of color, for women, for marginalized populations. I am wondering how we as a society are better all of these years after Dr. King's death. How are we the same?  Some matters are heartening, others not so.

Today is also a day of personal wonderings.  How would my own personal world be different had Dr. King not given the ultimate sacrifice? What have I been able to experience because he came.  What would be missing had he not come?  Here are a few personal reflections.

Dr. King gave his life as the ultimate sacrifice and because of that sacrifice I was able to have Dr. Robert Lee Washington as a high school teacher; Charles, a friend from upstate New York, my wife, and I had that experience of looking for an apartment in Memphis long ago and were able to make sense of it; the N-word is not a part of my vocabulary; and bringing together kids of all groups, black and white, rich and poor, public school and private, middle and upper class neighborhoods and projects was an important effort at the church in Memphis.

Developing four social justice teams at Abilene Christian University in the COAMFTE-accredited MFT program happened and all of our lives are different as we explored Black farmer, Black Indian, and white privilege issues, and as we presented at various forums around the country, Christian and secular.

Meeting and engaging BFAA, Gary and the Grant family, Dr. Muhammad, Dr. Spencer Wood, and farmers in North Carolina, Georgia, Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas have been rich and challenging. Hearing story after story after story and gathering health and well being information, for me have been life changing.

Publishing a modest piece with Dr. Edward Robinson and seeing it referenced in several journal articles says that the work is being noticed. Ours was just one piece that this researcher and preacher of the gospel was working on at that time.

Walking the farmers' land in Georgia, North Carolina, Louisiana, Texas, and other places brought a gripping reality to the progress and the lack thereof in matters related to the USDA.

Meeting USDA officials at one meeting and being encouraged by one person to just tell the farmers to get over it and move on and at the same conference feeling moved as one speaker had us shut off our microphones as she spoke from the heart about injustices.

Participating in mediation hears with  DOJ and the USDA brought home the reality of how persons in governmental positions saw Black farmers versus how Black farmers viewed themselves and their stories.  I am swayed by both.  Power and privilege and the lack thereof will forever be significant concepts and realities.

Meeting Harry Young and marching on his behalf in Kentucky with Monica Davis, Charla Hinson, Dwayne Burger, and others provided an insight into organizing protests. Attending the community action meeting with Gary Grant and others in Scotland Neck, NC as that community attempted to save its local schools and their kids from six hours on a bus every day gave me a perspective on community activism and its influences.

Walking through Sweet Auburn and reflecting on a friend's words, "Several years ago we would not have been able to do this," meaning that a black man and a white man could not walk across the street in that section of Atlanta or any other black section of America had it not been for Dr. King.

Considering the fact that I now live in Indian Country, work for an American Indian tribe, bringing a family way of thinking to a people who still experience the impact of historical trauma.  Those experiences at ACU and with Black farmers prepared me for this work. Thinking, talking, and strategizing about how to bring music and lyrics of farmers' struggles into the mainstream is something I do often

The questions are still the same. In what societal ways and in what personal ways are you and I different because Dr. King came?  In what ways are we personifying his "I Have a Dream" speech that day in DC? In what ways are we helping to remove Jim Crow ways of thinking from the hearts of people?

Just wondering this evening. Just recounting a few personal stories.