Slave Day Trading

Every now and then an errant memory will pop into my head and I'll wonder what the hell were any of us thinking at the time the actual event occurred. Like the time my three friends and I were at Disneyland in Anaheim, California and we were watching this 3-girl group onstage. The girls seemed to be staring right at us as they sang their songs and we were all blown away that these 3 beautiful young ladies were showing us all this attention. It never dawned on us that we were the only people watching them, so who the hell else were they supposed to sing to? Young minds are easily led astray-anyway, that's not what I wanted to discuss. Around about the same time, maybe a few years prior, my 2 friends and I were in junior high school and one of the annual activities we'd have was slave day. Yes, you read correctly, slave day.

On slave day, we'd all go to the assembly area and we would auction off certain students (of all racial make up) to the highest bidder. Of course the cute guys and girls usually went for the highest price. There would be chains manufactured out of construction paper, and the highest bidder would retrieve their slave for the day.

I never bid on anyone (I don't think the slave would participate in the events that existed in my deviant mind), nor would I allow myself to be humiliated by being auctioned off. The day always left a sour taste in my mouth. And this morning it dawned on me, (some 30 years later), how ridiculously insulting such an event was. How could you actually have a school in America, with approximately 3/5 of the students of African descent, participating in such an awful event. Yes, I know it was in fun. But to me it would be synonymous with having a Holocaust day where we put students on trains destined for concentration camps, and conducted simulated exterminations of students in gas chambers, all in fun. There's not a Jew on the planet, not one, that would stand for such ridiculousness. So why is it that we had almost 100% participation in this event? I'll answer it for you, we're an unconscious people. I admit I didn't care for the day at all, but I wish at the age of 13 I would have launched a protest. I was a pretty Afro-conscious kid. I once challenged my history teacher to an impromptu debate in front of the entire class regarding America and her supposed unblemished war record. I summarily reminded Mr. Rhett Gray that America had just had her ass handed to her in the Vietnam war. The impromptu debate abruptly ended. Final score- Young Black Impoverished Student-1, Uninformed Propaganda Spewing History Teacher-0.

In retrospect I do know why I didn't launch a protest. First of all, I didn't really understand how systematic racism was. I thought it was based solely on individuals. For instance, Mr. Gray is a racist, but Miss Brandsberg isn't, (that's because Ms. Brandsberg was too busy being a pedophile...seriously, but that's an issue for another blog). When you slice racism up into small bite-sized pieces, it's much easier to swallow isn't it? You have this notion that you can pick and choose the people you associate with. You can work for companies where racism is nonexistent. But what the mind of a 13 year old doesn't realize is that racism is built into the very fabric of American society and the only way you can get around it is to a). leave, like so many did in the 60's when they emigrated to Europe, or b). dismantle the entire racist system.

It took years for me to accept that racism would never go away in this country; that it would always be a part of my every day living. I would always have to be conscious of the fact that my skin is dark (beautiful, but dark), and that my actions would always be judged based upon a perceived notion that black people are all lazy, shiftless, unintelligent, criminals steeped in anti-social behavior. When I walk into a department store, I'm going to be watched. When I sit down at a restaurant, the assumption is that I can't pay for the meal I am about to consume-and everyone (including myself) breathes a sigh of relief when I pay. I will always have to answer for the crimes of other blacks and the level of trust I might of earned from my coworkers and non black associates has been reduced to zero because Johnny Cochran got O.J. off, or the Rodney King riots, or the Jenna 6 were released. I will always be viewed with an air of suspicion because to be black and accused of a crime in America is as good as being guilty.

When you infiltrate the minds of young people at an early age, it's easy to get them to accept certain things in life-be those things positive or negative. Just as easily as we participated (without protest) in the slave day festivities, a young mind can be persuaded to start a business or focus their attention on the more positive aspects of life. Those early years are extremely vital. Although I didn't protest the slave day, I definitely didn't care for it. I can see the difference between some of my former classmates and myself-we definitely have entirely different views about the world. They seem to have accepted their station in life, whereas I've always raged against the machine. I've always tried to rally people to institute change. Maybe not so much in the world in general, but at least in the small world in which we live. Alas, I've exhausted myself trying to not only drag the mule to water, but also have him drink. Now, I'd like to simply walk away from it all. From the slave days; from the Jenna 6 situations; from the racist mindsets that compel white people to scream "OJ did it!" when it was the very system that they designed that freed the man.

I get exhausted when I think of how ignorant and naive the majority of us all are. Who knew that our big brains could be so flawed? How is it that in the 70's, not long after a decade of intense struggles for civil rights, that we would voluntarily participate in mock slave trading? How could this happen? We were supposed to be the successive generation to further the struggle-and there we were, participating in a mockery of the tragic events our ancestors were brutally forced into. To this day I am ashamed. Not so much because I participated, but because I didn't stand up to the establishment and tell them to knock that fucking shit off! No matter how you sliced it, this event was an abomination.

Perhaps the 44 year old me is being too hard on the 13 year old me. But if you knew me at 13 you'd wouldn't agree. I was a militant and I had my ideas and beliefs about the establishment-and often I voiced them. I remember once when I was about to whip a white classmates ass, an African-American kid intervened...on behalf of the white kid. I never looked at that boy the same. To me, he was a race traitor and at the age of 13, I decided if ever I was in a position of power, I would imprison him for his treason. Fortunately for Noble, that day never came.

It makes me wonder at times exactly what the black students of today are experiencing in school. What else have they slipped under the radar that is a mockery of our experience here in this country? What I do know is this: we've definitely been tarnished by our experience here. It has shaped us in ways we don't realize. It might not have changed our physical appearance, but mentally, we've become something other than human. And we don't even know it.

So today I am officially announcing my plan to expatriate myself. I'm not sure where I will settle, but within the next 5 years my goal is to leave the United States. Europe comes to mind, but I haven't decided. Paris or Spain would be my initial choices, but there might be a place in a warmer climate that I might prefer. One thing's for certain, I have no intentions of being buried on U.S. soil.

TPOKW?