I Have a Reality. . .

There is something truly awkward, yet sensational to see little black boys and little black girls all bright-eyed and espongeful (I know this isn't a word, but I like it) when it comes to reading and learning.

What's awkward about it? Awkward because all this desire stems from a mind who probably doesn't either know or has begun understanding life through the lens of their blackness. And make no mistake about it, it is a lens like no other.

Awkward because if you add 10 years to that kid's age, chances are reading and learning will become like a personal offense to his accreditation. Almost like, if they become interested in doing it, the consequence is social jail; beatings and rapings of their social agenda by their own kind, forced to march to the beat of a hip hop drum. Wearing doo rags and clothes too big for their too small bodies. And shoes using as little lace as possible to keep them on their feet. Yes, jail would be the perfect way to describe it.

Sensational because it is a glimpse of how strong black people could be if they stuck to their natural tendencies. Most of which involve learning and professoring. Who else you know could have over 200 songs memorized, learn how to play every instrument in a 5 piece band or confront a society not designed for their success?

Sensational, because it gives you chills to know that chances are, someone will enter that child's life and lead them to believe that becoming smart is becoming white. Oh, it pains me so to know that the institutionalization of education, has acted as such a hindrance, a barrier to black social elitism. And not elitism as defined through the capitulations of capitalism. But elitism defined as a race, acting and living with all of its proper cogs in place.

I once wrote that I have a dream. I now write that I have a reality. And its eating me whole like a boa constrictor without an appetite to chew, but rather suffocate its prey. I am prey.