Monday, April 13, 2015

Dear Mindy Kaling's Brother - I.O.U. Confession #2

Dear Mindy Kaling's Brother A.K.A. Jojo,

I don't blame you for using your childhood nickname Jojo.  Though you could have just spelled your name VeeJay and people would have assumed you were Black and your parents were named Veentrell and Jayqwando, right?  But then again, I guess Vijay is just so hard to say.  Almost as hard to say as Chokingonaham or Chachinglingheim or Chimichangaland or whatever your last name is.  And don't worry.  It's not racist of me to make fun of your name.  I'm just underscoring why your sister Mindy might have changed hers to the easier-for-non-Indian Americans to say, "Kaling."

Considering how hard it must be for a woman to crack TV being a woman and brown and thick (and very nicely so I might add... um, digression), adding to that a name that screams "I'm not from Boston (where the original tea partiers died for our sins)," well that would just spell career death.  So me making fun of your name is really just a harmless attempt to commiserate with how bad you Indians have it here in the (former) land of the braves.  Kind of like you commiserated with being Black when pulled over by cops for no reason and sexually assaulted by lusty, jungle fever-crazed White women while pretending to be Black.

And I don't blame you for pretending to be Black to get in to medical school.  I believe I may have inadvertently pretended to be non-white Hispanic to get into Yale Law School even though I'm like Black creole or something.  And when I got there and realized I was one of the three other light-skinned Black men in my class from New Orleans (out of the 7 total Black men in my class),  I immediately grew an afro and beard, and started wearing dashikis to clarify myself as a proud Black man.  (Okay I worn a dashiki like twice, but I did wear a Tupac shirt once a week, but again I digress).

And while several other Black men dropped out over a series of mental breakdowns tied to feeling inadequate despite being outstanding in every way, I graduated and immediately turned down any hope at a high-paid lawyer career by spending 15 years working in the non-profit sector as a way to earn the privilege I had been given.  This privilege was somewhat due to the guilty, good-hearted liberalism of Yale admissions and mostly due to the back-breaking effort and indestructible hope of my parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and former-slave ancestors from Louisiana, Haiti, and the Philippines.

And I didn't just say that to make you feel like shit for taking a potential opportunity at medical school away from a Black male student, then dropping out to write a book lambasting Black folks for taking advantage of anti-Indian discrimination.  I'm just saying that to say this.

I don't blame you for riding your sister's coattails.  We all stand on the shoulders of some giant.  My wife, a brilliant brown Indian woman from Kerala, got me through Yale Law School.  While she earned Honors in almost every one of her classes, I scratched and clawed to Ps.  But she didn't get me through by teaching me how to pull myself up by my bootstraps or teaching me the Queen's English.  Quite the contrary, she got me through by empathizing with my struggle through her own experience of discrimination growing up in Boston and attending Harvard, and by her own deep reflection on how to better America while studying African-American History and working with civil rights living legend Bob Moses in Mississippi after finishing Harvard early.

She got me through by offering an understanding ear when I lamented feeling inadequate.  She gave me an encouraging word when I questioned whether I belonged there.  She opened warm arms to cry into when my mother died at the start of my second year.

And I didn't say that to make you feel like shit for being an ignorant callous fool who has no clue of all the Black hopes, dreams, and bodies left by the wayside in the hundred years between slavery's "end" in 1865 and the civil rights movement (measured in inches) that produced the (endangered) Voting Rights Act of 1965.  I wrote that so you could know that I can't be racist against you because my best friend is Indian.

And I don't blame you for any of what you are up to now.  This is, after all, America, where you can "find a way to earn a healthy buck and still keep your attitude on self-destruct" (quoting MF Doom is a religion, but I again digress again, damnit.).  Sell out all you want, Coco (nut).

I blame you for what happens from this point forward.  What will that be, Mindy Kaling's brother?  Will you stand in front of a bunch of Black leaders and apologize like the reckless frat boy you were?  Will you go on TV and blame Obama for dividing America after you killed some Black man's opportunity to attend St. Louis University Medical School and wrote a book to make money off of it?  Will you shave your head, pretend to be Black and get shot in the back or choked to death in cold blood by a cop or a vigilante?

I hope you do none of these things.  I hope you get your "Negro [sic]wake up call" sooner than later.  Then you can write a book about being a recovering douchebag.

So what will it be Mindy Kaling's brother?

Eagerly awaiting your response,


Dr. Anthony L. Molina Sr.'s son



Thursday, April 9, 2015

Killer Cop Might Walk and Here's Why - I.O.U. Confession #1

Cellphone video of a cop shooting a fleeing man in the back 8 times
is frozen in this image on Web media around the world.  Considering that North Charleston police officer Michael Slager is then recorded walking up and tossing a taser next to Walter Scott's dead body, it's not a stretch that the cop would be arrested and charged with first degree murder.  Slam dunk, finally a cop will pay for being a murderous bully.  But wait.  Who shot the video?  A young Black man?

My first thought:  "they" are gonna claim the witness, (obviously a nefarious special FX mastermind, a veritable young Black Spielberg who probably hates white people almost as much as Spike Lee hates white people) the young Black male witness doctored the cell phone footage, with the Instagram skills he learned making new crap look old and turning sunsets green, making "slap cam" vines and George Jefferson memes.......  Yeah, and that would be my stuff.  Even if some White folks don't trust Black folks as far as they can shoot them, why would I temper my own sense of righteous indignation by dwelling on what some White folks do and don't trust, will or won't think.  It's demoralizing and useless I.O.U. (Internalized Oppression Uncovered) that will have me angrily reacting in comment sections rather than thoughtfully responding in blog posts.  I'll leave it for the stink bugs to roll balls of that crap around.

My second thought, though:  the lawyer in me knows that first degree murder requires proof of premeditation.  Proof that Michael Slager pre-meditated, that he deliberated and thoughtfully considered murdering Walter Scott.  Slater might be a registered KKK member who considered the terrorist organization's successful track record of raising money for cops who kill Black people and intended to hit the GoFundMe lottery by killing an unarmed Black man.  How exactly is a prosecutor (presumably a District Attorney who has absolutely zero incentive to convict a cop with first degree murder unless he plans on running for office in majority minority (the ridiculousness of that phrase not-withstanding) North Charleston)... how is a prosecutor supposed to prove murder-cop Michael Slager woke up that morning and intended to shoot Walter Scott?  And why would a DA charge the cop with that specific crime, one which requires such a high burden of proof?  

Prepare yourself.  The cop may actually walk and that ain't I.O. crap.  That's oi crap.

There is a boiling point America.  Every cop or vigilante that walks for murdering a Black man is another cup of salt in the cauldron.

P.S.
Here is the news article that reported on the murder before the video came out.  It reports officer Michael Slager's lies word for word.  But Black on Black crime, though!

Sunday, December 21, 2014

One Man Show Trailer

Mass Transit Muse is a one man show written in rhymed blank verse a la meta-modern Shakespeare.  This is the opening verse of the performance that features spoken word poetry, dance, song, and dramatic interpretation against a back drop of digital video images of New Orleans, where the blues was born...

Mass Transit Muse to a Stage Near You!

Friday, December 12, 2014

Amel Larrieux dedicated to Jessy Molina

Until this woman gets her due the music industry ain't spit...

...from Bravebird and dedicated to the love of my life Jessy Molina.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Hip Hop Overthrow

According to the great of agitators of aggregators Huffington Post...

Apparently USAID, United States Agency for International Development, enlisted Creative Associates International, a consulting firm, to invest American tax dollars in an "amateurish and profoundly unsuccessful" attempt to build a network of young people seeking "social change" in Cuba.  If they wanted to get young people to overthrow the Cuban government, Americans they could have just sent all the materialistic, nihilistic, me-me-me rappers of mainstream hip hop to co-opt the real Cuban hip-hop scene and flip it into public demand for whips, chains, and molls.   Well maybe that money is already spent paying those same mainstream rappers to keep young Americans out of the business of social change by promoting messages of tribal warfare (gang life), pleasure at all costs (sex and drug life) and money-by-any-means (especially those means that will promptly get you locked up and not voting).


On a serious note, I was recently reminded by a friend of Third Eye Movement, a Bay Area hip-hop activism movement.  Now what if the American government had invested in promoting "social change" in Americas hip hop movement?  If they find hip hop so powerful as to be key in ending a 60 year cold war, why can't they see the value of hip hop in uplifting communities suffering in the 60 years since Jim Crow?  To quote dough boy... "either they don't know, don't show, or don't care..." or maybe that money is already spent making sure Hip Hop promotes social apathy?

Friday, December 5, 2014

Stop Victimizing and Start Galvanizing

We activists and our cousin victimization addicts are complicit in creating the image of Black men as boogie men... so are we artists (and I'm being far too generous with Chief Keef et. al).  A Black man (or any woman or man) should certainly not become a murder victim for standing up to being disrespected by a punk with a gun like Darren Wilson or a pack of wild bullies led by the likes of Daniel Pantaleo.  Blaming the victim is the first step to rationalizing injustice away.  But how does believing we are victims help us fight?  And more importantly, how we do to prevent the next police murder?  Here are three ideas:

1.  Continue protesting, galvanizing ourselves and gaining allies by powerfully pointing out how the death of these Black men is injustice against all Americans, all people.  Police power being used to enforce submission of the people is dangerous enough.  Police power being used as an expression of fear against the citizens police are charged to protect is horrifying.  Continue to expose the essential contradiction:  people trained in combat, clothed in combat gear, armed with weapons of submission (tasers, clubs, and cuffs) and lethal force (guns), with a posse at their beacon call, a badge and shield, people paid to do the dangerous job of "protect and serve", those people using fear as a justification for killing an unarmed citizen is a complete perversion of the notion of society and civilization.  And Black people are yet again canaries in the coal mine.  Beware: The funny (and not at all) #Crimingwhilewhite will be a distant memory if white allies let this stand unchallenged.

2.  Challenge the other essential contradiction of a justice system that allows D.A.'s and prosecutors, trained to destroy reputations by any means, who work closely with police every day of their jobs, who depend on cops to do their jobs well, whose career advancement depends on a close relationship with cops... any justice system that allows these people to set foot near a grand jury charged with disciplining a cop is a complete and utter foolishness.  Prosecutors who lead the Grand Jury process should be pulled from a pool of defense attorneys, judges, and others completely uncolored by the thin blue line.  Here is a very clear demand with a potential victory that could have some impact on whether cops feel impunity with regard to killing people.  Don't take my word.  Listen to retired NYPD cop Noel Leader in this Essence article.

3.  Control what we can control, which is the narrative we tell ourselves about ourselves and thus generate for the general populace.  We can stop playing in to white supremacy with victimization narrative or rage without discipline, without organization.  We can support and nourish the newly politicized young people with some historical perspective on the current state of things.  Systems thinking folks...  First step?  Read this The Root article:  "More Black Men in Jail Than in College?  Why It's Not True."

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

#theantidote

If you read Wilson's testimony, he says Mike Brown looked like a "demon" (as opposed to maybe angry), that he "grunted" before "charging" him (as opposed to the sound one makes after being shot), that his eyes were "cold" when he looked at him. He basically described him as an animal and a monster. 






This is racism in it's purest form (and I use the word carefully). When you can't see a person's humanity because of their race. When the psychosis of racism makes you live out some horror movie where the forces of evil have a skin color... Add a gun and a badge and you get Darren Wilson.

And we are the antidote.  Our lives.  Our work.  Our art.  We have to keep our humanity and be ourselves beautifully.  Mourn the dead.  Call out wrong.  And live to create a new world!

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Good news...


So I'm early these days working on a new novel, joining in with National Novel Writing Month thanks to a reminder by Myke Johns of WABE and Write Club, and I'm getting really frustrated with myself for using the passive voice.  Not for any particular reason other than the fact that I'm breaking the rule I was taught in elementary school "gifted" English.  I love you Mrs. Zimmerman, but I just got some good news... In this article, Mother Jones says that Science Says You Can Split Infinitives and Use the Passive Voice says Harvard psycholinguist Steve Pinker.  Yes they all say that.  I'm having fun breaking rules here and freeing up my free writing.  Thanks Mother, Science, Steve and even you Mrs. Zimmerman for giving me rules to use and to rebel against.  hee hee... Here's Steve Pinker on it all:



Wednesday, November 12, 2014


Keep faith in what you are up to
No matter what you're down to
#lastdollarlastchancelastbreath

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Numb Me Now Beneath the Noise...

If you know me, you know how I feel about my nephews and my sister for raising them. A while back my second oldest nephew Xavier Smooth Molina expressed anger, hurt, and disbelief about the Michael Brown murder. He's taken that emotion and put it into his drumming, trumpet playing, and vocals (the burst of emotion towards the end of the song) on this beautiful outpouring of creative critical thinking with the Dominic Minix Quartet. In the video, they re-enact the outrage and the killing... it is very powerful. Please share this, especially now as the decision on whether to charge the officer looms. This is healthy, thoughtful, beautiful democracy at work.   



The refrain, "Numb me now beneath the noise" expresses beautifully how these youngsters refuse to go numb, instead turning the madness into music. 

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

100 word me

Check out my homework for this amazing project I'm helping to facilitate called Clarkston Roving Listener (a program initiated by De Amon Harges of Indianapolis).  It will train children ages 12-18 to gather the stories and talents of neighbors in their community as an effort of asset-based community development.  Tomorrow we have to present 100 word stories of ourselves.  Of course mine rhymes...

I am a Black Filipino Native American Mestizo
Yale law graduate social justice activist
Revolutionary poet and community development strategist
I have seen the valley of tragedy
Watched my parents die of cancer
I have seen the sunrise of life
Caught my children with these hands bruh
And all I got is questions
And if I ever find the answer
I will pen a book, spit a poem, or sing a song
To increase human understanding
And even though I chose
Making change over money
There is not a soul on this earth

that can take a thing from me

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

100 Posts Deep

In honor of my 100th post (it only took 5 years), here is audio of my third of four straight write club victories.  Still undefeated son!  I listened to this one and actually felt certain of it's worth, which is rare.

The Write Club battle:  Shallow vs. Deep.
My topic:  Shallow

I suggest you listen to both stories as Myke Johns opening piece is a lovely take on love.  If you are short on time, my story starts at 8:37... Enjoy and share!

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Glad Jack Wasn't Black

Just learned from this Huff Po article that John Mellencamp's classic rock song 'Jack and Diane' was originally about an interracial relationship.

Here's the video for your frame of reference:



Besides Mr. Mellencamp's hilarious Kunta Kente touche at the end of the Huff Po interview, there really was nothing of note here.  Back in 1982, studio execs thought he shouldn't make the song about an interracial relationship.  Stop the presses.

But as always I went to the real action in the comment section.  And there I found this useless pimple of a thought from one of those provincial provocateurs from the pro-racial slur bloc of the Generally Obtuse Party:
and this waste of eye-use from one of those people who know random, useless facts and make conversations miserable by adding said useless facts like a fart adds to ambiance:


Thanks Matt.  Thanks Lisa.  Maybe you two should hook up in the back seat of a car and prove that stupidity knows no race.  But if either of you had made a salient point, I would disagree with you both.

I am glad that Jack wasn't Black and that 'Jack and Diane' were faceless, even if they were ultimately white in the video and in most people's consciousness.  If you listen to this song, it could be as true for a couple in Lower 9th Ward New Orleans as for a couple in Orange County or a couple on the Jersey Shore.

Art should let the listener imagine and create meaning for themselves.  Now I charge a spoken-word poet to reframe the song into a piece about an interracial couple or about two girls (Jack short for Jackie) or two boys (one of whom calls himself Diane).

And oh yeah, life goes on long after the Lisas and Matts of the world take the fun out of everything.

Mazel Tov.