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Parable of the man who didn't want to leave prison

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"Sir, your time is up and you must leave prison now, without delay!""Please, the man cried, "I don't want to leave prison, my family is here, I have no family outside these walls. There is nothing for me outside. Even my friends who've passed on are over there in the prison cemetery."
"Sir, for the last time, pack your belongings and depart now. Your presence is not wanted. You cause disturbance even when in solitary confinement. Your words get out to the others in the general population so we want you to go now. What part don't you understand?"
"What if I bust you upside the head, would you return me to my cell?"
"No, sir, by no means. We want you outta here now. Let's go! Pack your shit, roll it up!"
"I'm not going nowhere!"
"Yes you are. Security, come git dis nigger outta here. I'm the warden but if dis nigger don't leave I'm leavin'."

So the man who didn't want to leave prison departed. He wanted to stay but the authorities demanded he depart. They told him they knew who he was and did not want him infecting the prison population with his radical ideas. Actually, the guards threw him out the prison gates, punching him in the ribs with their nightsticks, making him break down into tears, but once they had him outside the prison gates they slammed the gates shut in relief he was gone, no matter where.
--Marvin X
2/19/19





Marvin X Notes on BAMFEST 2019: Monday Night Drama at the Flight Deck

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Don't miss this rare appearance by West Oakland raised internationally known and honored poet/author Marvin X. He will read and sign his latest book Notes of Artistic Freedom Fighter Marvin X. Growing up in West Oakland, Marvin attended McFeely Elementary and Prescott, also Lowell Jr. High, later Oakland City College (Merritt) with Bobby Seale and Huey Newton, founders of the Black Panther Party. Marvin is a co-founder of the West Coast and National Black Arts Movement.

He obtained his B.A. and M.A. in English/Creative Writing. He's taught at Fresno State University, University of California Berkeley and San Diego, Mills College, San Francisco State University and the University of Nevada, Reno, and elsewhere.

He's received writing awards from Columbia University, National Endowment for Arts and planning grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Marvin X Notes  
Oakland's BAMFEST 2019
Monday Night Drama 
at the Flight Deck
1540 Broadway
Downtown Oakland
2/18/19
Black Arts Movement Business District
Oakland California




The Black Arts Movement Business District BAMFEST 2019 presented three solo theatre pieces tonight: Thomas Robert Simpson's Courage Under Fire: The Story of Elroy; Glory by Dr. Ayodele Nzinga and Voice of the Voiceless by Nisa De'lovely. The evening at the Flight Deck began with Nisa's poetic monologue on the theme of female sex abuse and exploitation. It is the narrative of many women in this #Metoo Era. Our Black Arts West Theatre presented Papa's Daughter by Dorothy Ahmad on this theme in 1966.

Marvin X and Danny Glover
photo Ken Johnson

Danny was an actor in Marvin X's Black Arts West Theatre, Fillmore Street, San Francisco CA, 1966. They were both students at San Francisco State University.


Danny Glover began his career at Black Arts West as Papa who had a sexual relationship with his daughter, a role that undoubtedly prepared Danny for Alice Walker's Color Purple. When we participated in the Crack Cocaine Recovery Program at San Francisco's Glide Church, the majority of the female Crack addicts testified they were sexually abused by fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters before succumbing to drug addiction and prostitution. Voice of the Voiceless was a dramatic narrative on this theme that has been revealed as a pervasive pathology in the North American African sojourn. Nisa De'lovely did a great job telling her story experienced by so many women today, from Color Purple to Vagina Monologues, and even Ayodele Nzinga's Glory touched on the subject. 


Nisa De'lovely is Voice of  the Voiceless

What disturbs me most is the entire history of sexual debauchery during and after North American African enslavement in the American system of dehumanization. Why should we not expect the horror of sexual pathology to permeate our culture as oppressed people, after all, did not the slave master have free rein at all African bodies, women, men and children, including his own? Nisa told her story and exited the stage with good-bye. Her message was clear that human beings are more than sexual organs and we need to rise up from the low information vibration, yes, black women matter, black lives matter and #metoo matters. 


Thomas Simpson recounts radical evolution of his family
from Civil War to Civil Rights

Thomas Simpson's solo piece was a great and wonderful family narrative of how North American African families survived the worst treatment any human beings ever experienced in the history of the world. He told how his family endured our communal suffering but participated in the Civil War and the Civil Rights struggle. His great grandfather's name is on the statute honoring the 200,000 North American warriors who fought and were decisive  in winning the Civil War and his sisters were Freedom Riders in the Civil Rights era. We had no idea Thomas Simpson came from such a grand genealogy. We thought he was a San Francisco Negro doing drama. He is founder of the San Francisco Afro-Solo Theatre Festival--we had no idea of his radical roots until enjoying his story of Elroy, his father. His video effects of family and North American African history  in this wilderness were excellent archival images revealing his family's participation  in the matrix of our 400 year liberation struggle and recorded narrative. We enjoyed his dramatic monologue and the images solidified his narrative. 

The evening ended with Glory by Dr. Ayodele Nzinga, founder of the Lower Bottom Playaz and Producer of BAMFEST. Of course, she is my star student after enrolling in my  Theatre class at Laney College, 1981. All teachers appreciate seeing their student mature and evolve into greatness as Ayodele has done. Glory is a dramatic narrative of her family history, totally dysfunctional as are most of our family histories, alas, we were not kidnapped and sold into the American slave system (Ed Howard term) to have "normal" families, hence we suffer generational psycho-social pathologies--and in the words of ancestor James Baldwin in my 1968 interview at his apartment in NYC, "It's a wonder we all haven't gone stark raving mad."

Glory recounts the roots of Ayodele's family, but most importantly her survival and thrival to be a multi-talented Theatre Grand Diva, Black Diva Warrior Queen, in residence at the Flight Deck Theatre on Oakland's Broadway. She narrates in her inimitable dramatic manner of portraying multiple personalities as she is known to do in her presentations. In Glory, she is simultaneously grandmother, mother and daughter. As producer, director, actor, playwright, Ayo has fulfilled the dreams she told her mother in Glory, a mother who derided her to the most detrimental degree any parent can  do to destroy the dreams of a child.

Thank you Ayodele Nzinga for catching the Black Arts Movement baton. We know Amiri Baraka is smiling on you. For sure, you teacher is proud of you!
--Marvin X/El Muhajir
2/18/19

 Left to Right: Dr. Ayodele Nzinga and her Master Teacher Marvin X
Flight Deck Theatre
1540 Broadway
Downtown Oakland

In Residence 
The Lower Bottom Playaz
founder and director
Dr. Ayodele Nzinga

Dr. Nzinga's Lower Bottom Playaz is the only theatre company in the world to perform August Wilson's ten play cycle in chronological order. 


Wilson by Gayle
August Wilson
by James Gayles
Please Note
Iconic artist James Gayles of Oakland CA has generously donated this portrait of America’s Shakespeare, August Wilson, to Oakland’s premiere North American African Theater Troupe, The Lower Bottom Playaz, to help fund their historic production of his seminal work The American Century Cycle. The work is for sale by auction with an opening bid of $1800.00. Please send all inquires to wordslanger@gmail.com


Master Teacher Marvin X and his star student Dr. Ayodele Nzinga, founder of the Lower Bottom Playaz and Producer of the Black Arts Movement District Festival BAMFEST 2019. 


Cover art by Black Arts Movement Master Artist and Playwright Ben Caldwell
On Wednesday, February 20, 6PM 
You are cordially invited
to the 
Blue Dream
West Oakland honors
West Oakland raised international poet/author/activist
Marvin X (Jackmon)

Dr. Ayodele Nzinga will honor 
Her Master Teacher 
Marvin X 
Co-founder of the West Coast, National Black Arts Movement 
and Oakland's Black Arts Movement Business District 
along the 14th Street Corridor 
approved by the Oakland City Council
January 19, 2016

The Blue Dream
1300 7th Street, West Oakland 
presents 
An Evening With Marvin X
reading and signing 
his latest book 
Notes of Artistic Freedom Fighter Marvin X




Poet/Playwright Marvin X
photo Kamau Amen Ra (RIP)

Poet/playwright/director/producer/educator/organizer/planner/historian/philosopher
grew up on the streets of West Oakland, attended McFeely, Prescott and Lowell Jr. High,
attended Oakland City College (Merritt) with Huey Newton and Bobby Seale. Huey Newton said, "Marvin X was my teacher, many of our comrades came from his black arts movement theatre, e.g., Bobby Seale, Eldridge Cleaver, Emory Douglas, George Murray, Samuel Napier, et al." Bobby Seale says, "After Marvin X performed his play Flowers for the Trashman at the invitation of the Soul Students Advisory Council (BSU), the black liberation struggle ignited at OCC or Merritt. His play showed us the powerful role of art in the liberation struggle."


The Power of Blackness and the tragi-comedy of our present condition

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Forgive me and permit me to deconstruct the term tragic-comedy in the Cheikh Anta Diop paradigm. In his paradigm of the Northern and Southern Cradle of civilization, Diop made it crystal clear the dramatic notion of tragedy was of Northern cradle mythology and ritual as expres, essed in the European dramatic tradition expressed in Greek Drama and Shakespearean drama, with the dominant themes of murder and lust for power, hubris or the tragic flaw of overweening pride originating in narcissism or self love. Diop made the distinct contrast between Northern Cradle civilization and the Southern Cradle of Kemetic or Nile Valley civilization in which there was not the tradition of tragedy but tragi-comedy, after all, the primordial Southern Cradle drama is the Osirian drama of Resurrection based on the Hapi or Nile river annual renewal and invigoration of crops and the concomitant culture and civilization throughout the 4,000 miles of said culture, i.e., from the delta to the Congo.

As Diop noted in his classic Cultural Unity of Africa, Nile Valley culture had no concept of tragedy since life and nature enjoyed an annual renewal and resurrection in harmony with the annual harvest provided by the inundation of the Hapi or Nile River.
Thus, Osiris or the Crucified Savior, prototype of the Jesus myth and ritual, was indeed crucified but resurrected and ascended in harmony with the annual rebirth of crops and vegetation along the 4000 miles of Kemetic or Nile Valley civilization. Thus the annual renewal was the paramount understanding of Kemetic or Nile Valley civilization that life was not tragic but enjoyed a rebirth annually as opposed to the notion of tragic eternal suffering and death in the European and Christian mythology. But, alas, no matter how the Europeans were steeped in their myth/ritual, the Southern Cradle mythology overwhelmed their mythological order, thus we must peruse The Sixteen Crucified Saviors by Kersey Graves to understand how global culture incorporated Southern Cradle mythology and ritual.










When I consider the entirety of Black history and civilization, I am horrified at our present condition after 400 years in the wilderness of North America. My feelings are similar to the Hausa Muslims enslaved by the Portuguese in Brazil. The Hausa Muslims from Nigeria were indignant that they were forced to suffer servitude under the ignorant, illiterate, uncultured Portuguese, after all, the Hausa spoke Hausa, Arabic, Portuguese, Yoruba and other languages while the Portuguese were totally illiterate and uncivilized, despite a thousand years of Moorish African culture and civilization in their area across the Straight of Gibraltar, named after the African general Tarik who conquered Spain in 711AD. Gibraltar is a combination of the Arabic Jibral (rock) and Tarik (the African general).
See African Glory by Chares DeGraff Johnson; the works of J.A., Rogers;Chancellor Williams;The Story of the Moors in Spain by Stanley Lane-Poole, The World and Africa by WEB DuBois, et al.

I have said all the above to consider our present condition in the wilderness of North America wherein the savages are not the indigenous, aboriginal people and the kidnapped Africans, but the European colonial savages delineated by J.A. Rogers in his classic Africa's Gift to America and Frazier's sociological classic Race and Culture Contacts in the Modern World. Frazier main conclusion is that it was not the guns of the European savages that perpetuated genocide but their diseases that eliminated the native populations by the millions. Alas, we are yet suffering the pervasive European diseases and mythological notions that are the direct cause of our mental and physical aberrations and toxicity.

Alas, the more we adhere to the fake narrative of white supremacy culture, the more we suffer the loss of our mental equilibrium or sink lower into the depths of the low information vibration mentality.

If we submit to a nano-second of white supremacy mythology and ritual, we are lost and turned out on the way to grandmother's house (Whispers song).

Dr. Nathan Hare, clinical psychologist, says, "Don't believe the hype:everything the white man says is  fiction until proven to be fact." Let me add that the elders informed me that white supremacy is more than a system of domination, most importantly, it is a mental illness of the most severe degree based on the DSL classification of mental diseases as mild, moderate and severe. In short we are under the subjugation of motherfuckers who are totally psychotic, who have no mental foundation in reality, whether Democratic or Republican, Right Wing or Left Wing, Capitalist or Communist/Socialist. If and when you drink any of this Kool Aid, from any of these motherfuckas and their black sycophants you are soon addicted to the Fentanyl of white supremacy and death is certain!

So here we are, down here on the ground, seeking a straight path out of the matrix of Pax Americana
and its plethora of maladies so pervasive, problematic and profound that one must indeed be a rocket scientist, no, more especially, Superman and Superwoman to extricate ourselves from this conundrum!
--Marvin X
2/19/19

Oakland's Black Arts Movement Business District honors Marvin X, BAM and BAMBD co-founder

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 Saturu Ned and Marvin X discuss the Black Panther Party and the Black Arts Movement
at San Francisco Apple Store, Union Square, in celebration of Black History Month, 2019


Black Arts Movement and Black Arts Movement Business District co-founder Marvin X received the BAM Award and Reward from Dr. Ayodele Nzinga, founder of the BAMBD CDC and the Lower Bottom Playaz. The occasion was BAMFEST, the month long celebration of the Black Arts Movement Business District, established by the Oakland City Council, January 19, 2016. The poet/activist was honored last night at the Blue Dream, a venue at 1300 7th Street, West Oakland, the neighborhood where the poet grew up. Two of his childhood friends were present at the event: Tom Bowden and Leon Teasley. The poet read from his latest book Notes of Artistic Freedom Fighter Marvin X, accompanied by Dr. Nzinga, his former theater student at Laney College and actress in X's Recovery Theatre. San Francisco. They read A Fictional Interview with President Obama, Driving Miss Libby (Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf) and Ayo ended with Woman on the Cell Phone.
The poet will return to the Blue Dream in March. In March he will join poets reading at the San Francisco Main Library in honor of the 50th anniversary of the Black and Third World Strike at San Francisco State University.

West Coast Black Arts Movement associates, left to right: Cat Brooks, Marvin X, Dr. Ayodele Nzinga, Geoffery Grier, Cheryl Fabio, Tom Bowden and Eric Arnold
photo Adam Turner






Marvin X  Bay Area Tour  2019


February 20,  Wed. 6pm
BAMFEST Oakland 
Blue Dream
1300 7th Street, West Oakland
 Reading/book signing
  Notes of Artistic Freedom Fighter


February 22, Friday
5:30-7:30
 Hunters Point, San Francisco
5:30-7:30
Hunters View Community Room
901 Fairfax Avenue
Call 510-575-7148 for more information.
Refreshments served 

March 24
Blue Dream 
1300 7th Street. West Oakland
 presents 
Art of Storytelling
Marvin X et al.
6:pm-11pm 

March
San Francisco Main Library
Larkin Street
Marvin X reads with poets in
celebration of the 50th Anniversary of
the Black and Third World Strike at
San Francisco State University

At the 2014 UC Merced 50th Anniversary of the Black Arts Movement, Marvin X announced the
Black Arts Movement Poets Choir and Arkestra



Breaking News: Dr. Julia joins Ancestors, the female Malcolm X

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Surely we are from Allah 
and to Him we return!
"I know of no politician with truth at the top of their agenda! --Dr. Julia Hare

SHE ALWAYS STOOD BY ME: IN PRAISE OF JULIA HARE

by Dr. Nathan Hare

"Adopted nephew" Marvin X, Drs. Julia and Nathan Hare, Attorney Amira Jackmon


SHE ALWAYS STOOD BY ME
By Dr. Nathan Hare, 
In Praise of Dr. Julia Hare
She gave me a private piano concert every time I came to their apartment. 

I had seen her singing and dancing but didn’t know her – call her Julia, the name I gave her, her mother named her Julia Ann – when my high school principal took our senior class to the Tulsa, Oklahoma Booker T. Washington High School’s legendary annual production of “Hijinx.” I remember I was sitting in the upper balcony, far out of reach of her, and didn’t pay her that much mind. It was all a dream world. White folks called the balcony “Nigger Heaven,” but there were no whites around in those days of Jim Crow segregation, Hijinx was nevertheless put on downtown in the city of Tulsa’s Convention Hall, the place where the state militia less than three decades earlier had detained over six thousand black men for their safety, after more than 800 were hospitalized and an estimated 300 killed during the bombing of Black Wall Street, the only time whites have bombed blacks from the air in American history.

But, two years after I saw her for the first time, I was walking across the all-black campus of Oklahoma’s Langston University with a friend one afternoon when I suddenly stopped and told him: “There’s that l’il ol’ skinny girl who was playing that piano last night, and won first prize in the Freshman Talent Show; I think I’ll take her to the movie.” And he laughed and bet me a dollar she wouldn’t go to no motion picture show with me, but he didn’t know she had made eye contact with me in the Dining Hall the year before when she came to visit her pal sister for Homecoming Week and, no sooner than she left to go back home, her sister slipped me a note from her, and I answered  it, telling her I would like to get to know her better too; but my letter somehow fell into the hands of her over-protective mother, who was hoping to save her from the unhappy experiences with men that had befallen her older sisters. So that was the end of that. 

I myself was just a country boy, at the top of my class scholastically but born and raised on a farm forty miles from Black Wall Street, outside of Slick, Oklahoma, while Julia Ann Reed (eventually Dr. Julia Hare) was a city girl with personality and sass. So when we took up with each other, everybody said our relationship wouldn’t last, that even our sun signs didn’t match.

But in less than two months I had given her a birthday gift of a recording of Nat King Cole’s hit song, “Unforgettable,” because I had seen she liked it so. I could see that she was thrilled to high heaven that I had even given it to her; and she would play it over and over on the juke box, and she and I would sometimes slow-dance together.  But, while I could slow dance alright, especially in dark and familiar but unchaperoned places, and halfway jitterbug -- I didn’t know how to huckle buck at all, let alone to Suzie Q -- but Julia was a dancing queen.

Sometimes when everybody was on the dancing floor in the Student Union Building, a gay artistic dancer, say, might take her hand and they would do the tango around the edge of the crowded dancing hall while we all stopped what we were doing and watched them go.  And she was equally adept at the ballroom and the waltz.  Students eventually voted her “Best Girl Dancer” campus-wide, as well as “Most Popular Girl”; and “Most Talented Girl.” For, not only was she one of the best piano players on the campus, in time she would become the regular university organist.

When I graduated and left Langston on a Danforth Fellowship to study for the Ph.D. at the University of Chicago, a pretty big thing there in those days, Julia soon went to California in her childhood dream of someday making it in the music and entertainment world, and to help her older sister, an impregnated high school dropout with five children, whose husband had gone down to the drug store one night to get some medicine for one of their sick children and just kept going, never to be heard from until he turned up trying to make it in the jazz world in New York.

Suffice it to say it was after considerable agony and ambivalence that Julia tabled her dreams for fame and fortune and rendezvoused with me in Tulsa and we were married in her mother’s house two days after Christmas when we were all of 23. Then in Chicago, rather than get by on my budgeted fellowship and a part-time job as a statistical clerk, Julia got a job as a substitute teacher.

I used to feel sorry for her when she would get up winter mornings and cook me eggs and waffles and pancakes and bacon in time for her to be ready when her teachers van came in the cold to take her from the Southside of Chicago to teach unruly children in the Westside slums on the other side of the windy city. 
Soon her girlfriends and female coworkers began to cock their heads to the side and crow that they “wouldn’t work while no man went to school.” The reason I know she wasn’t lying is one of my sisters and her teacher friend upstairs told her that in my presence, to my face. They quipped that I was getting a Ph.D. while she was getting a PHT (Putting Hubby Through) and then go on to warn her that as soon as I got the Ph.D., I was going to leave her for a younger woman -- never mind that we were still in our twenties. 
But Julia stuck by me and persevered. Julia was the kind of woman who would stand by her man until he was headed in a better direction and she could get in front of him.

I got the idea of persuading her to study for a master’s degree herself, so they would be jealous of both of us and by the time I got the Ph.D. she had earned an M.M.ED. from the music department of what is now Roosevelt University’s College of the Performing Arts.  Although she would later also pick up a doctorate in educational psychology, an Ed.D., she was always fond of saying that she was proudest of her MRS, allowing that she had had to work so much harder for the MRS.

When we left for Washington D.C., in part so I could join with E. Franklin Frazier, though he would end up dying before the end of  the school year. Julia still had her own ambitions on hold, and she was taken aback when we got to D.C. and, in spite of her years of teaching experience in Chicago, plus one year each in Virginia and Oklahoma, the Board said she wasn’t qualified to be a substitute teacher in D.C., compelling her to commute in winter weather to teach in a white school in Maryland for a year before the black Board in D.C. deigned to hire her to teach in the black schools in the slums of the District.

Yet In just four years, she would go on to win the Outstanding Young Educator Award (teachers 35 years old and under) from the Junior Chamber of Commerce collaborating with World Book Encyclopedia, with the expert judgment of the Department of Education at American University to recognize her as the most commendable teacher thirty-five and under for every grade level for all of the city of Washington, D.C.
But the following year, I myself was fired from Howard University, along with another black professor and five white ones, for so-called “Black Power activities.” I returned to boxing, this time under my own name – I had quit before when two world champions were killed in the ring one year apart and she had already been getting the heebie-jeebies over the boxing, making big mirations over some cut lip or bloody nose. I’d tell her you ought to see the other guy. Then, after promising her I was going to quit, and did, two weeks later on All Fools Day, I took a shot or two of vodka and went down to the old Capitol Arena to see a friend fight, and was visiting in the dressing room, when  somebody’s opponent didn’t show up and ,I agreed to take the fight, which was an easy win, but two deans recognized me fighting under the name of Nat Harris, and the top dean called me in in a day or two and gave me an ultimatum which almost motivated me to return if I hadn’t promised Julia. Anyway, I had one fight in the comeback under the name of Nathan Hare, winning by a knockout in the first round, before I was asked to become the Coordinator of Black Studies at San Francisco State University.

Now Julia was not a conscious herself at that point, but a bourgeois lady suddenly challenged to become a revolutionary’s wife and drown her dreams in a revolutionary life. But San Francisco had always been her favorite city, and her two older sisters were still living in the Bay Area, and her school teacher coworkers had sometimes been snide to her about  the things they read in the newspaper about me and Howard, and she had never wanted me to box anyway, let alone under my own name and everybody was waiting to see me on my back on the front page of the Washington Post with my feet sticking up -- so she pushed me, like most other people did, to accept the offer from San Francisco State.

After closing out our apartment and her job as a laboratory teacher headed for the Board of Education, she came to San Francisco  and went down to the Board of Education here, armed with the citywide award from Washington, D.C. and thirty units beyond the master’s degree and a passing score on the National Teachers Exam, only to be told that in order to be a substitute teacher in San Francisco, she would have to take a course in Teacher’s Arithmetic and another in California History.
Makes you wanna holler.

She declined the psychotic suggestion and within a couple of months the Director of the Oakland Museum preparing to reopen happened to be in the audience when she, unemployed, was speaking on a panel at the Black Today conference I was chairing at San Francisco State, and the museum director recruited her as Director of Education. She had worked the previous summer in a program directed by one of the bigtime museums in New York City.

Julia was in her element at the Museum, and got on well with the society set. Aside from her interest  in the arts, she was in her dream world social element, as she had come to admire Jackie Kennedy and was always studying the women’s and the fashion magazines, even before she worked at the Oakland Museum, and had a Saks card but was not a spendthrift and loved to shop anywhere, including the thrift stores, using Jackie Kennedy once  more as an inspiration. She knew how to put what little clothes she had together. Sometimes her affluent friends would be affronted when they would throw down big money for something they saw in a clothing store window, then get to an occasion and everybody would be praising Julia’s outfit from the thrift shop, though, like I said, she was not averse to using her Saks card. One night we wound up at a high level reception where a blue collar woman I happened to know was also taken with thrift stores and also appeared to me to be an unusually creative dresser.  I determined to introduce them to each other, but before I could do so, they had spied each other from across the room, though total strangers, and introduced themselves to each other.

But that was the way she was.

She worked at the Oakland Museum maybe a year while it was preparing to reopen and she and the white multimillionaire Director got the idea of making it a people’s museum and carry the art like Meals on Wheels to the people in the community. This horrified he museum’s docents, who had discovered her connection to me and hence the five-month strike for Black Studies raging at San Francisco State. For instance, one night Julia sat with the Director and his wife waiting for me for dinner at a downtown restaurant when they looked up and saw me getting arrested on the Walter Cronkite CBS Evening News, along with five hundred and fifty seven predominantly white Black Studies strikers at San Francisco State. The Oakland Museum Director was fired and eventually became President of the California Historical Society, but meanwhile I backed Julia’s wish to resign.

Julia’s black consciousness also took a leap when James Baldwin’s sister, Dr. Rena Karefa Smart, invited me to speak to the Conference on Racism put on by the World Council of Churches in London in the spring of 1969, and I took Julia with me, stopping at St. Louis University on the way to pick up her fare, impressing her at the Custom’s window by nonchalantly counting and talking of pounds and shillings. She enjoyed the week in London, where I also took part in a demonstration with the daughters of Richad Wright, Rachel and Julia Wright. When we returned to San Francisco, Julia announced to me that she was going to start wearing an Afro.

Her next job was as Public Information Director of the West tern Regional Office of the National Association Against Discrimination in Housing. Then, after two years she beat out seventy finalists for Community Affairs Director of Cowboy Gene Autry’s radio station in San Francisco, KSFO, where she flourished for all of ten years, including eventually some on-air broadcasting time in a sidekick role in the morning drive, until she ran into trouble with a new manager and took a part-time job as a talk show host with the number one talk show station in San Francisco. ABC’s KGO. However, in spite of the fact that she appeared to be one of the very best they had, they would not give her air time in the day time on weekdays, so she eventually sued the station for harassment and her three year contract was not renewed.

Despite picking up a course for a while in the broadcasting department at the City College of San Francisco, unemployment at forty-eight was her darkest hour. Plus she was a people’s person, a performer, and didn’t like sitting at home, while I was a thinker and a writer and would have loved to change places with her as it was no accident that she became a radio talk show host and had married a psychotherapist, for whom listening had achieved the status of both an art form and a healing art.

It hurt me to see how hard she was taking her fate. At the time, I was going around the country on the chitlin college lecture circuit pushing a male/female relationships movement on the wind of an incredibly popular editorial I had written for Ebony magazine, speaking out for a better black family based on Kupenda (Swahili for “to love”) black love groups I had been experimenting with at the time. I thought that it would be natural and nice to have a couple speaking on black male/female relationships instead of a solo spouse. I also was inspired by the fact that we had made our own poem rhyme as a couple, and wanted to share the love, so I asked her to come with me, and she agreed, and I named her “National Executive Director” of the Black Think Tank I was running at the time.

Julia had always been a very good speaker – she’d won the award in “Auditorium” in the third grade in Tulsa, and the experience as a radio broadcaster and talk show host also seemed to augment her impromptu facility. Plus, people didn’t know she was farsighted and could see the copy standing back from the podium while also exploiting her radio broadcaster’s ability to read-talk off of next to nothing, causing it to appear that she wasn’t using any notes or anything at all.

Having time all day, she used the time and worked hard learning the sociological material and preparing and practicing her speeches and was soon being hailed as “one of the most sought after motivational speakers in the country.” She spoke to most of all of the black women’s groups and even men’s groups, especially the mentoring conferences and began to be included in selections of distinguished black women. For instance she became a regular at the annual Essence Cultural Festival in New Orleans, but she spoke to all the leading black women’s groups and they all seemed to think a lot of her.

Then, though not at her best when she appeared on the Tavis Smiley’s State of the Black Race Conference at Plymouth Rock in 2008, her comments went viral and seemingly all at once she got more than a million hits from around the world; but later, I stood perplexed after the widest circulating newspaper in Great Britain, “Black Voices,” gave her the two-page centerfold, under the headline, “The Female Malcolm X,” and offered to bring her for a tour of Europe, but she declined, saying she was afraid to fly over the ocean.
Then, she began to forget and lose important and familiar things; which should have alerted me, but I was blinded by psychological denial as well as a lack of knowledge and familiarity with Alzheimer’s, up close and face to face. I should have been alerted because she had never gotten over the fact that her mother put her father in the rest home after he went and got a rifle to her and her mother fell and injured her foot and couldn’t keep up with him.

But I was not there, though I visited him with her briefly in the rest home, but he always had a quiet and retiring disposition, a man of very few words, and I had no idea of the difficulties a demented elder can present, how unmanageable some can be, and how to relate to them and manage their behavior. 
But by 2011, it was clear that something was wrong with Dr. J, despite her trying to hide it, and such a good actor at that. Her mother didn’t know that and drove her to play the piano, but her talent was more in her voice box and her being than her fingers. Plus, she had always relied on me for information, seeing me as a fountainhead of knowledge (she said she thought I was a “genius”). So I continued to play the role, but she wound up in confinement, with me duped by the medical establishment and conventional wisdom and custom.

First it was 72 hours for her safety and mine, then it’s two weeks for hers when I opt out, then a month. They told me I’d have to have a “power of attorney” to make any decisions over her niece and them, but by then I had seen how oppressive involuntary confinement was to her: involuntary because most people will stay and just be bored and lonely, because after a while people don’t visit that much. Sometimes I would leave the office for visiting hours and be the only one there visiting anybody in the “Acute Psychiatric Ward,” for they have a mixture, which is demoralizing in itself to be in a place of the openly and acutely insane – like how did I come to this? – and people bellowing and moaning, sometimes in a different language, so you don’t know what they’re saying they will do to you, all day long. One night the house psychiatrist came out unsolicited by me and opined that I shouldn’t visit so often, but I paid her no mind.

And yet, I admired how the staff could handle her, though she was the hardest patient of all for them to handle in a locked up condition. They liked her nevertheless and brought in a portable piano and allowed her to to entertain the other inmates anytime she wanted to. One night in casual conversation with me, she referred to her situation as “incarceration.” I knew for a fact she had never read Psychiatrist Thomas Ssazz, though I had, but even I hadn’t read his “The Medicalizaton of Everyday Life,” in which he independently called involuntary confinement of patients “incarceration.”

Each night when the visiting hour was over, I would have to conspire with the staff to distract her while I sneaked out the door without her; but, by the time I would hear the  ominous prison-like click of the closing of the door, the nonchalant staff would have turned her loose and I would hear her sorrowfully knocking on the door and desperately calling out my name to help her, like Maria calling Roberto at the end of “For Whom the Bells Toll.”

I thought of the marital vows when I had stood with my hand on a Bible and promised to love her and protect her until death do us part. I also wondered and imagined what she would have done if they would lock me up against my will for medical treatment of a condition they admit they can’t cure or rightly treat and don’t really even know what causes it.

What would she have done if I was the one on the other side of the door of sanity in an insane world, where the  most powerful man in existence is collectively described as mentally ill by thirty top psychiatrists and such. I recalled how she would sometimes say in other random but serious circumstances and idle speculation: “If anybody ever bothers you [or do harm in any way], no telling what I would do; I will tear up this town.”

The next morning I woke up early from a largely sleepless night and called some of the  San Francisco State College BSU leaders from the 1960s Black and Ethnic Studies Strike: including a physician who consults worldwide on Alzheimer’s, a retired judge, a retired lawyer or two, a community organizer in San Francisco and another visiting from the East Coast, and went out and brought her home.

That was almost six years ago, when she was diagnosed in the late moderate stage. However, my collaborators had noted and remarked on Julia’s visible improvement after an hour of freedom. But later she would develop a bed sore and go through hospice, at home under a visiting clinic, indeed two, as the one who refused before now wanted to come in under new Medicare guidelines from Obamacare. They brought in the death apparatus and stored it in the apartment in full anticipation. A physician sat for at least twenty minutes explaining to me why the bedsore wouldn’t heal, but it did, though I do believe that if Julia had been confined again she would have died, literally, under categorizing and caring staff prescript.

Mind you, they’re good in what they do, they just need to do it in the home and community.. We have the technology to do so: computers, internet and social networks, cars. S.U,B’s, bicycles, scooters, cellphones with cameras in the back while pointed at you. It would be cheaper as well, for people in their home are already paying rent.

In any event, I did what I had to do: stand by my wife who had stood by me; but more than that, it just seems there is something wrong with incarcerating a proud and dignified lady in the final stage of her life cycle, against her will, don’t care if she has never had so much as a parking ticket in her life.
Mental Health Is Tied to Social Health

I have learned on a deeper level that mental health is tied to social health, and I am gratified and impressed by the way people are getting behind the movement to deal with the Alzheimer’s epidemic and coming pandemic. I liked it when Barack Obama called for a cure by 2025, and it looks to me if interest keeps mounting as it has in recent years, we will meet that goal; but though it would be a blessing to so many others, it won’t do Julia any good or mend a broken heart.

I want to acknowledge that I could not have stood by Julia in her present ordeal, if so many people hadn’t stood by me, or the few hadn’t stood by me so well. While it is true, and has been said, that most people, especially the ones you’d most expect, will not lift a finger to help a flea, I have been amazed by the quality and the quantity of help and the quantity of the quality of help Julia and I have received from too many to mention. I must find a way some day to thank them in a circumstance that might prevent leaving somebody out.

When I jumped out with promises and parachutes that didn’t open or got snagged, I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I was so ignorant of Alzheimer’s it’s a shame. Partly because people had been prone to hide the demented in the closet, so to speak, or put them away altogether, lock them away if necessary. 
I often stand and look back now and realize how many people I encountered in the past  who had Alzheimer’s and I didn’t know it: we just lumped them in the loose category of “senile,” a net big enough to encompass almost anybody elderly individual. Two things people think about an old person they meet: they are senile and got some money or something of value under the mattress or somewhere, and the young person is going to try to get it if  they can; not that they necessarily need it, just so they can get it and have it.
As for Julia, I regret to say that at this point she is going down slow, fast. She is doing well in her physical health and emotionally but Alzheimer’s is a progressively deteriorating disease, and you can see her going down in a cognitive way, something like month by month.

She has lost much of her ability to speak and function by now, but I can tell that she knows more than she can say.

People ask me if she still remembers me, if she knows who I am, and I am compelled to quibble, but I say yes, on her current level, she has forgotten much of the old me but she knows me as she knows me now, and of course what is more important, is I know who she is.

She still knows herself well enough to answer to her name, if you are trying to get her attention, though you can usually get her attention without calling her name, say by simply using the remote to raise or modulate the volume on the cablevision, or by playing her one of her favorite songs on the computer, something I do for an hour or two on many an evening after the sun goes down, and you can tell she is exceedingly gratified, just to have the attention but she will use her hand to direct the music in the air. When we were 24 years old and I was teaching for a year at Virginia State College in Petersburg, Virginia, she was the Minister of Music, including choir director, for the oldest black Baptist church in America, the Harrison Street First Baptist Church, which still exists. At one point, needing more male voices, she even recruited me to sing in the choir and once gave me a solo part to sing. I just acted like I was in the shower.

So I know there will inevitably come a time when she will have forgotten me altogether without a doubt, but I will remember her: that she sometimes gave me a hard time in good times but always stood by me in times of trouble, always took my side.

She continues to live at home with Alzheimer’s and find exquisite enjoyment in the instrumental music on 24/7 cablevision, as she was a pianist by background and training and by temperament a dramatist but became a scholar primarily as my longest and most continual student. Though going down slow these days in a cognitive sense, she is doing well physically and emotionally, enjoying interacting with her caregivers and me and the special attention I try to give her because maybe I didn’t always love her quite as often as I could have when times were good, little things I should have said and done but didn’t take the time. So I just try to fill her life with whatever joy I can and always love her all the time.

So, even when it comes to the point that she no longer remembers me, I will remember her, and I will recall that she was unforgettable and thought I was unforgettable too.
***


 Marvin X outside the door of the Hare's apartment they've resided at since 1973 on Jackson Street, San Francisco
photo Adam Turner


Marvin X, Dr. Julia Hare, Dr. Nathan Hare, Attorney Amira Jackmon, Yale and Stanford Law School graduate, baby daughter of Marvin X




 Marvin X, daughter Muhammida, Julia, Nisa Ra (former wife of Marvin X and mother of Muhammida), Nathan Hare:
Black Love Lives interview







 Marvin X and Auntie Dr. Julia Hare, Praise be to 'Allah!
Time is a mother, no more private concerts for Marvin X, et al.

After a restful night, I got up early this morning to make my daily round: to the bank, cleaners, community medicine man and distilled spirits store. As I had ample food at home, there was no need to go to the supermarket, although I have been wanting to cook some popcorn for several days. When I had to babysit for my daughter over the weekend, I started to take some her popcorn, but I forgot about it when my babysitting duties were over, happy and relieved to go home to my own bed, although I see I must spend more time with my seven year old granddaughter Naima, especially since I was chided by my daughter, "You taught Jahmeel black history, teach Naima some too--you slacking, Dad!" said Attorney Jackmon as she exited to a Black Excellence affair.

But after finishing my daily round, I returned home to my apartment by Lake Merritt and entered my apartment as my cell phone rang. It was Dr. Hare. I saw he had called three times and since I hadn't talked with him in a few days, I knew it was time to return his call. First I said my usual prayers when entering my house, i.e., the Fatihah and Ikhlas, just to be thankful I returned home safely from the "Danger Zone" (See Ray Charles song by the same name).

I took a sip of the distilled spirits and indulged my package from the medicine man. Then I returned Dr. Nathan Hare's call. Although I often do not return his calls because I cannot understand his rapid fire speech as those who know him know he is often incomprehensible, after all, he is the writer, Julia was the talker. This day I understood when he told me Julia had passed during the night, yes, his wife of 68 years. Trying to lift his spirit, I said, "Doc, we lucky to stay together 68 minutes these days." He laughed. He told me again why he did not confine his wife as Alzheimer's took her down slowly, as the medical authorities suggested and some friends as well. He'd told me many times, "I don't know how to confine my wife of 68 years! I don't know how!" In this loveless world of today, who cannot understand the true love of Julia and Nathan Hare? They are the supreme couple who model Black Love Lives!

Now, let us understand that Julia was a personality in her own right--a newspaper in the UK said she was the female Malcolm X! One need only view her perhaps greatest performance at Tavis Smiley's Black Forum when she stole and stopped the show completely and totally. Check out the video on Youtube.

FYI, after becoming the elder cousin of my tribe (Jackmon/Murrill), I adopted Julia and Nathan as my aunt and uncle. 

What I miss most about Dr. Julia Hare and what I shall miss forever is the private piano concerts she used to give me when I visited the Hare's at the apartment they have resided at on San Francisco's Russian Hill. Aside for her mastery of public speaking, Julia was a trained classical pianist and she never failed to give me a private concert when I visited this most endurable couple in the history of North American Africans.

I told Dr. Hare to catch his breath but if he agrees, we shall celebrate the life of Dr. Julia Hare at Geoffery's Inner Circle, where we celebrated his 80th birthday, at which he was not able to attend because he was attending to his wife. Black Love Lives!
--Marvin X
2/25/19












If every country run by a black is a shithole, what was america under obama?

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If every country run by a black is a shithole
what was america under obama
utopian land of heavenly peace
black man bashed into a white man
whiter than white man to prove he american
we see black police out brutalize white police
black jailers more sadistic than white jailers
wasn't america white shithole before obama
half white black man






so america must be white/black shithole
let's be equal
fair balanced


who colonized the world
shitholes the world over
jungle savages into urban savages
tattooed 
pants sagging 
ass showing savages
what christian cross created shithole dwellers
what good ship jesus john hawkins amazing grace motherfucker
what islamic star and crescent eunuchs 

what democratic party jim crow 
reconstruction
sham freedom sharecropping minstrel show 
white negroes
dancing shuffling watermelon eating fake negroes imitating 
africans trying to be free free free

of shithole mentality
flip the script
false narrative
history his story 
ain't mystery my story
Sun Ra say



sho' ain't herstory





mama don't lie
you don't want mama speak



mama tell how you suckled her breasts
stole her pussy in the hut
stole her man in the hut
stole her child in the hut


America!
yr head is shithole 
mind body soul.
America America
Great Shithole
if truth be told.



--Marvin X
2/27/19


A Love Poem for Julia and Nathan Hare

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What do I know about love
I never loved like Nathan and Julia
never
only ephemera love
momentary
ten years at most
though some loves lasted 40,50
yet did they love me
though I loved them
one lover said
I was a lover with perks
I was confounded
what perks in love
love is unconditional
I will do all for my lover
without question
I don't care what she will do for me
don't matter
my love is unconditional
yet she comes to my room as I am writing
says to me
can I masturbate while you write
darling no
let me lick you pearl
forget my poem
your pearl is sweeter to me
let me lick the juices of your sweet pussy lips
what does a poem matter
in truth, I came to her as per her request
and forgot the poem forever
as I sucked the sweet lips of her pussy
so sweet to me
her juice was like the food she cooked
tasted the same
sweet honey juice pussy
wish somebody could help me
I am helpless this night!
What do I know about love
like Julia and Nathan
forever love eternal
who cares of vows
words of death due us part
who cares of this
meaningless today
in the name of love
we fake the funk
not Julia Nathan
real love
eternal
death do us part love
a model
black love lives
black love matters
black love lives
forever
eternal
black love lives
--Marvin X

Black is Beautiful

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From Muhammad Speaks to ‘Soul on Ice,’ Black remains Beautiful


Annual “Naturally” fashion shows, spotlighting the Grandassa Models, began with Naturally ’62 in the basement of a Harlem nightclub, which was so popular that Naturally ’63 attracted one of the largest audiences ever seen at the Audubon Ballroom. This photo is of Naturally ’68 at the Apollo Theater, featuring the Grandassa models and AJASS founding members Frank Adu, Elombe Brath and Ernest Baxter. – Photo: Kwame Brathwaite, Courtesy of Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles
by Segun Brathwaite
Nowadays, “Black Is Beautiful” is a corporate slogan and often used hashtag for millennial and I Generation social media users. However, applications of the term have been received with various results in the Black community.
This 1968 photo of Grandassa model Pat Bardonelle was in the recent show, “Kwame Brathwaite: Celebrity and the Everyday,” at the Philip Martin Gallery in Los Angeles.
In a March 1858 speech, abolitionist scholar John Swett Rock coined the phrase “Black Is Beautiful.” During the 1920s the Pan Africanist leader Marcus Garvey adopted the term “Black Is Beautiful.” Upon his deportation and eventual death, the concept waned, and calling somebody Black was grounds for a fist fight.
When Carlos Cooks arrived in Harlem from the Dominican Republic, he started a resurgence of Garvey’s teachings. As the head of the African Nationalist Pioneer Movement (ANPM), Cooks started an annual beauty contest called “Miss Natural Standard of Beauty.”
Kwame Brathwaite’s photos, such as this one taken at a Garvey Day Parade in Harlem, encouraged people to see the beauty in Blackness. The New York Times, on Nov. 27, 2018, writes: “Kwame Brathwaite … and his brother understood back then, years before hair and beauty became strongly associated with black politics, that people, sometimes even black people themselves, were blind to how black is beautiful.” – Photo: Kwame Brathwaite, Courtesy of Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles
Carlos Cooks’ beauty contest inspired many, including some of his own ANPM members. One such was Elombe Brath, the lifelong president of African Jazz Art Society Studio (AJASS), which he co-founded along with his brother Kwame, Robert Gumbs, Chris Acemendeses Hall and others in 1956.
Their goal was to reclaim jazz as the music of contemporary African traditions that should be controlled by Black artists. AJASS ended up doing more than that, as they created the Grandassa Models a few years later.
The Grandassa Models were the foot soldiers and ambassadors for the Black Is Beautiful Movement. Initially, they were a group of eight Black women of who wore their hair in its natural state and modeled fashion for the world to see “Black Is Beautiful” in a new way.
“Black Is Beautiful” became the slogan of the Black Power Movement. Kwame Brathwaite and his brother Elombe Brath founded the African Jazz Art Society and Studios, or AJASS, an  artist collective that selected models known as “the Grandassas – black women the group recruited to model. Black women with kinky hair, full lips, dark skin, and curvy bodies. Black women who could show other black women that blackness was something to take pride in,” the New York Times wrote in a Nov. 27, 2018, story about the photography of Kwame Brathwaite, who created this 1971 poster from some of his photos.  – Art: Kwame Brathwaite, Courtesy of Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles
The “Naturally” shows sparked the Black Is Beautiful Movement of the 1960s in New York City that spread to the rest of the United States, the Caribbean and across the globe.
It had some documented resistance at times, but the steam it gained as a movement was undeniable. Jazz music was still reflective of Black culture in America in this time and the Grandassa Models were popping up on jazz album covers everywhere, while at the same time the Grandassa Models’ runway fashion shows were expanding nationally.
In February of 1963, Naturally ‘63 attracted one of the largest audiences ever seen at the Audubon Ballroom with the Grandassa Models becoming a front-page story in Muhammad Speaks. – Photo: Klytus Smith
In February of 1963, Naturally ‘63 attracted one of the largest audiences ever seen at the Audubon Ballroom with the Grandassa Models becoming a front-page story in Muhammad Speaks, the Nation of Islam paper, which Malcolm X developed from a small column featuring the group’s leader, Elijah Muhammad, into the largest weekly national Black newspaper in the country. This support continued for years.
Featured here is an August 1965 story highlighting one of the Grandassa Models, Jean Gumbs, with a story about the influential ladies going strong after four years while modeling and wearing natural hair styles, putting natural Black beauty on its proper pedestal in its community.
This page from Muhammad Speaks newspaper in 1965 features a photo of Jean Gumbs by Kwame Brathwaite.
The same model, Jean Gumbs was again the center of focus when Eldridge Cleaver expressed adulation for the ambassadors of the Black Is Beautiful Movement.
What makes this tidbit so notable is that it’s no secret that when the former Black Panther boss Eldridge Cleaver released his controversial book “Soul on Ice” in 1968, he upset many when he used disparagingly hateful rhetoric about Black women.
However, it was not always his sentiment. Prior to writing his book, Eldridge Cleaver sent a letter from San Quentin Prison to AJASS offices in Harlem on 125th Street. The letter was addressed to AJASS President Elombe Brath (Cecil Brathwaite at time).
Kathleen Cleaver and Bob Gumbs, AJASS co-founder, are surrounded by pictures of Grandassa Models at the BlackPower50 exhibition at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. Grandassa Models are shown as part of a committee to restore racial pride picketing a wig shop and in a group photo of AJASS and the models. Below that is a relevant but unrelated picture of the young Pan Africanist Chokwe Lumumba and his wife, Nubia. Chokwe was later elected mayor of Jackson, Miss., died in office and is now succeeded by his son, Chokwe Antar Lumuba. – Photo: Cyril Innis, East Coast Black Panther Party
In the letter, Eldridge was ecstatic and fawning over seeing the Grandassa Models. His letter showed total adulation for Black women with natural hair, marketed and promoted as beauty icons. He was especially effusive about Grandassa Model Jean Gumbs, who was the sister of AJASS member Robert Gumbs.
Eldridge thought the Grandassa Models were the greatest way of marketing “Black Is Beautiful” and hoped to see them in person eventually. After “Soul on Ice” was released, the words inside made it obvious Eldridge had changed his fascination with Black Is Beautiful, but nonetheless that is the effect that seeing the Grandassa Models for the first time had on many people.
Happy Black History Month!
Segun Brathwaite can be reached at elombebrathfoundation@gmail.com.

Black Bird Press News & Review: Breaking News: Dr. Julia joins Ancestors, the fema...

Toward Vol.2: Notes of Artistic Freedom Fighter Marvin X

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"The real problem is that you don't know the real problem!"--Ancestor Amiri Baraka





North American Africans have reached a consensus, especially among the grass roots and conscious
sector of students and intellectuals, that we were living throughout the Americas as free people
centuries before our induction into the Euro-American slave system kidnapped us into chattel slavery.
As we "celebrate" the 400th year of our sojourn in the wilderness of North America, it is surely time
to consider where we go from here! Shall we continue our integration into the burning house as MLK,Jr. concluded after his abject failure to free us from Jim Crowism or post-slavery de facto slavery that has now morphed into wage slavery and Constitutional slavery known as involuntary servitude--sounds nice, doesn't it? While I enjoyed involuntary servitude for refusing to fight in Vietnam for US imperialism, I observed inmates doing hard labor. Because I could type 80 words per minute, I was assigned a clerk job in the yard office. I used to cry when I saw the brothers return from hard labor each day, dusty and crusty from working in construction level jobs. I was so thankful my typing skills and college education spared me the hard labor of my brothers.

But out here in the "big yard" I am yet horrified that my wage slave brothers and sisters are yet one
paycheck away from homelessness, one paycheck away from living in tents under freeway
overpasses, while simultaneously the children of the domestic colonialists, known as gentrifiers and
millennials enjoy the displacement of the suffering masses. And the supreme irony is that we are
supposed to accept the pseudo liberal white supremacist Democratic Socialists Green Agenda  as the panacea of our pathological pandemic condition steeped in structural political and
economic inequities. Can I sell you the Brooklyn bridge?

Brothers and Sisters, we have come to a cul de sac in our marriage with America! There is no solution between married couples with irreconcilable differences except Separation and divorce.
Four hundred years of slavery, suffering and death, down to the present moment of police murder under the color of law, incarceration of almost three million mostly North American Africans and poor people, the time has come, I repeat, the time has come to separate into a nation of our own!


I am not the first to say this. Our ancestors said this throughout the 19th centuary in numerous pronouncements at Black conferences and meetings. There were back to Africa movements then as their are now with the Blaxit Movement of our children returning to our Motherland and being fully embraced by our African brothers and sisters. I am proud to say my daughter Muhammida El Muhajir is among those of our children who have returned home after realizing America is not the cradle of freedom for North American Africans, no matter their skills and potential. She reached the glass ceiling and now lives in Accra, Ghana.
--Marvin X
2/28/19

Dr. Nathan Hare and Marvin X enjoy trout in memory of Julia Hare

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Dr. Nathan Hare and Marvin X enjoy trout in memory of Dr. Julia Hare



Earlier this week Dr. Nathan Hare called to inform me the love of his life, Dr. Julia Hare, had passed away in her sleep at their apartment on San Francisco's Jackson Street, where they'd resided since 1973. Dr. Hare was waiting for the coroner to arrive to take away his wife of 62 years. When I asked if he wanted me to come over, he replied it was not necessary. I said OK, Doc, I'll let you catch your breath. A day or so later I called to ask if I could take him to breakfast on Friday, March 1st.? He said yes. I don't know why I told him breakfast when I usually have breakfast between three and five in the morning. But most often when I tell Dr. Hare I will come see him in the morning, usually around ten or eleven A.M., I will leave from Oakland around five or six to avoid the impossible morning traffic across the Bay Bridge than can take 45 minutes to get to the toll gate. So I would get to the city and kill time until my appointment with the esteemed sociologist and clinical psychologist, aka, father of black and ethnic studies in America, who was removed for his black radicalism from Howard University and San Francisco State University, where his controversial chairmanship of Black Studies ignited the longest student strike in American academic history, 1968.

Dr. Julia Hare
Classic Black Woman like no other
Let a thousand years produce another Julia
Stand by your man 62 years


Often I would kill time drinking coffee at Peet's on upper Fillmore, not far from the Hare's Jackson street apartment in the Russian Hill diplomatic neighborhood. I would sometimes enjoy a slice of banana nut bread. But there were also times when I would kill time by driving to Ocean Beach through Golden Gate Park to absorb the greenery and Pacific ocean. I could have gone to the ocean this morning but I had a thought that I would take Dr. Hare to the ocean to enjoy the blessings of Oshun and Yemanja, in the Yoruba tradition.

So even though I had breakfast around three a.m., I did not rush to the City since I had made a tentative appointment with someone between ten and eleven, but I was conflicted since I also knew between ten and eleven is a good time to cross the bridge because the traffic is momentarily better at this hour. Most of the wage slaves have made it to work by this time. I decided to delay the ten a.m. appointment and go for the bridge. I was in luck or shall I say I followed my first mind, entering the route to the bridge from West Grand Avenue, my favorite route to San Francisco.

Once I got pass the toll gate and onto the bridge, I called Dr. Hare to tell him I was en route. He informed me he was in the shower but would come downstairs when I was outside. When I got outside and called him, he said he was coming right down but took an inordinate time so I called him again as I was sitting outside.

I was getting a little nervous sitting outside Dr. Hare's apartment in this exclusive white neighborhood since on past occasions when I had him come downstairs and we talked in my car, he told me to lower my voice because the white people might get upset at the noise. And on an occasion when I brought him some money owed for sale of his books and gave it to him, he said don't do this like this because the white people might think we are exchanging dope money. I thought to myself the Doc might be a little paranoid, though I know full well we have been under surveillance the last 400 years. It is not paranoia when people are watching and you know they are watching you! Another of my San Francisco ancestors, mentors, Alonzo Harris Batin, said, "If we had done what the white man did to us, we would be watching him closely too for the Big Payback!" Is this not one reason the white woman will secure her purse when she sees a "Negro" a block away or on the elevator alone?

Finally, Dr. Hare came outside with a walker. I didn't know he had a walker, and insisted he needed no assistance because he could handle the walker better by himself and thus insure he didn't fall. He mentioned how many elders die after falling. I joked seriously that I have "No fall insurance," i.e., I know if I fall it will take a long time to heal. Young people can fall and keep moving on but not seniors.

I let get into the car by himself as I put his walker in the btparack seat. He wanted to go to the bank so I took him there but when he was taking rather long, I went inside to find him at the Versateller. I needed some cash so I used the one beside him. I immediately he was having problems negotiating his cash but I was too. I was putting my card in the wrong way and he was doing something wrong and decided to use mine after my cash was dispensed. I got my cash and told him I would be outside waiting. After a time, he did not appear so I went for him but he wasn't at the Versateller so I assumed he was inside the bank handling his business. I returned to my car. As I sat in my waiting, a white man entered the parking lot looking at me as if he suspected I might be a bank robber since I backed into the parking space backwards. Then another "colored person" saw how I parked and parked the same way, so perhaps a black man and colored man were both bank robbers, although I never saw the white depart the bank parking lot. I guess the "colored man" parking the same way as I did cooled the white man out that we were not bank robbers! What a day in the motherfuckin USA!

Dr. Hare finally returned from the bank and said we could go to breakfast except he needed to go to his house to meet Meals On Wheels, then when in the car he got a call from them and told them he was ok for the day, thus we were now free to do our thang.

I wanted to take him to a Black place to eat, but when I Googled such I found nothing open until later in the afternoon. I told him I will drive down Geary Blvd where I used to eat with Eldridge Cleaver after he returned from exile, where he used to order Pigs in a Blanket. I knew the place was now run by Orientals and Doc remembered the place where he used to eat as well, but when we arrived it was shuttered and a homeless person was sitting outside. So we drove down Geary toward Ocean Beach and we saw a Thai Cafe. He said let's go there as he preferred Thai food rather than Chinese. I agreed because Thai is more spicy than Chinese but when I turned the block and parked we were closer to Mel's Diner so we went into Mel's and when I saw the menu with their Trout Special, I told Doc that's what I wanted and he wanted the same, so we ordered Trout with mixed vegetables and rice pilaf.
After coffee, the meal arrived and Doc said, "Meals on Wheels don't serve no spread like this!" Indeed, the Trout covered the plate and I devoured it as Trout is my favorite fish. And rich my favorite dish since my father was from Kentucky's rice country. We ate rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I saw that Dr. Hare left an ample serving of rice on his plate long after I had devoured all my rice and I wanted to tell him to give me his but I was silent. After all, I was not starving from my three a.m., breakfast.

My ten a.m. appointment was calling as well as a San Francisco appointment. I told them I would be dropping Dr. Hare off at his apartment and would connect with them ASAP. But Oshun and Yemanje were calling me, telling to bring Dr. Hare to the ocean, and so I did, driving out Geary Blvd. to Ocean Beach, and as I neared the ocean, Dr. Hare suddenly came alive, especially when we got to the Cliff  House Restaurant, which I could have taken him for our repast if I had known his past with Julia in the area. I did not know they had lived in the area until we arrived and  Dr. Hare came alive with memories of eating at the Cliff House and jogging on the beach, and their apartment nearby with the fireplace where they enjoyed wine time after time, lovers for life!.

We parked at the beach looking out at the ocean. He continued telling me his memories with Julia when they lived in the area. We drove around searching for the place where  they used to live but couldn't find it, although Dr. Hare has fond memories where the Fat Lady used to laugh, and the apartment where he and Julia used to drink wine and look into each other's eyes with love and passion that lasted for Black eternity.

I told Doc of my eating at the Cliff House and I would have brought him there today if I had known it was a favorite spot of theirs, after all, my undercover project was only to bring him to the ocean. I informed him during my recovery from Crack cocaine I used to come to Ocean Beach and jump into the freezing cold water as part of my recovery. I used to tell my associates who wanted to converse with me to come to the beach near Cliff House and meet me in the water which they did. It was my therapy, yes, I would go from Ocean Beach freezing water to the Berkeley hot tub on University Ave. to facilitate my recovery. It was after my session in the hot tub on University and taking the 88 Bus home that I discovered my partner had joined the ancestors where I passed her house on Harmon Street and saw her car parked that I knew something was wrong since she was a teacher and her car was parked outside her house during school hours, plus her car was dirty when I knew she kept it washed and clean.

I say this to say I know as I never got over the loss of my love, I know Dr. Hare may never get over the loss of Julia, most surely after 62 years. During our trout dinner, he repeated how he fought to keep her from confinement that her friends and relatives only knew to do. He said today and many times before today, "I didn't know how to confine the woman I loved for 60 plus years. I didn't know how, no matter how her relatives and friends persisted in their abysmal ignorance of love.

On the way home from Ocean Beach that Amelia Ashley, Publisher of the San Francisco Sun Reporter Newspaper and close friend of Julia was publishing an article in her paper next week and was organizing a memorial for Julia at San Francisco's Third Baptist Church on March 30, 2019. He told me to proceed with the memorial I planned to do in Oakland at Geoffery's Inner Circle at which I will announce the date. "Go ahead and do what you want to do, Marvin, because the Third Baptist celebration will not be the same crowd that will come to the celebration you organize in Oakland.

Indeed, the Oakland Celebration of Dr. Julia Hare must be an inter-generational discussion. The Hip Hop generation, especially the young women, must know the greatness of Dr. Julia Hare, a model for them to emulate in the tradition of Harriet Tubman.

But Dr. Nathan Hare made it clear to me Julia did not start out as a revolutionary or radical, rather she was of black bourgeoisie origins and opposed his radical notions until he radicalized her consciousness. Dr. Hare said to me that she was not a scholar but a speaker and he wrote the books under their joint title. For sure, Julia was the speaker, Nathan the writer supreme,  the English major taught by the subject of the film Great Debaters, Melvin B. Tolson. Nathan informed me he had tried to enroll in the creative writing program at San Francisco State University, although they rejected him because he was too old at 24 years of age. Marvin X, who received his B.A. and M.A. in English/Creative Writing from San Francisco State University, told Dr. Hare, "Doc, I knew of many black writers at SFSU who were rejected and some, especially sisters, who suffered mental depression when told they didn't have the qualities to be a writer."

Such is the American academic educational system as per North American Africans. FYI, when I submitted my thesis for the Masters Degree, my thesis adviser approved it but refused to sign it because he didn't like my subject matter, a dramatic script on the SLA, i.e., the kidnapping of Patty Hearst based on first hand information. He said he didn't want the FBI coming to him asking about me.FYI, I obtained my Masters in one semester! Check my transcript!

I dropped Dr. Hare at his apartment, connected with my appointment in San Francisco in the Fillmore where a brother Johnnie Burrell told me I could get a copy of the Sun Reporter Newspaper with Dr. Julia Hare on the front page, then I made my way across the bridge to a meeting in Berkeley and navigated the rush hour traffic to my hovel in Oakland,  up the street from Lake Merritt.

On March 30, San Francisco will celebrate the life of Julia Hare at Third Baptist Church. Soon after Oakland will celebrate Julia at Geoffery's Inner Circle, an inter-generational celebration with the Black Arts Movement and the Hip Hop Generation. Call 510-575-7148 for more information.
--Marvin X
3/1/19

Bay Area celebrates the life of Dr. Julia Hare

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Family, San Francisco will celebrate the life of Dr. Julia Hare at Third Baptist Church, Saturday, March 30. Call Amelia Ashley-Ward at the Sun Reporter Newspaper for more details.


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Drs. Nathan and Julia Hare in the UK. They enjoyed 62 years of marriage. "Sisters, I didn't wait for my ship to come in--I swam out to meet it," and then she called out her husband in audience, "Nathan, didn't I swim out to meet you?" Then blew him a kiss! Black love lives!

Marvin X and his adopted aunt Dr. Julia Hare RIP

"When Marvin X calls you to do something, it's like God calling. When he says jump! You can only say how high?" --Dr. Julia Hare

"I only know one thing: when I was in the presence of Julia Hare, I knew I was in the presence of a Classical Black Woman, down 100% with her man and her people. What else can one expect? I applaud them for sticking together 62 yeas, yes, til death do us part! These days, we can't stay together 62 minutes! Their life is a model of how to stick together--my life is a model of how to fuck some shit up time after time! So study the Hare model, not the Marvin X model."--Marvin X

Family, join Oakland in celebrating the life of Dr. Julia Hare at Geoffrey's Inner Circle. Date and time to be announced. If you would like to support and/or participate in the Oakland Celebration, please call 510-575-7148. Thanks
Marvin X

Oh, Merry men of Jerusalem and other myths of pussy and dick

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Oh, Merry men of  Jerusalem

You come into my house of peace
with no desire for my daughters
you only inquire for the angels
my daughters desire husbands
yet you desire them not
you want to don high heel shoes
the kind my daughters wear
when they go to the ball
who shall they be after the clock hits twelve
where is their black shining prince
fathers of their children
so urgently needed
as their clock strikes twelve
rocking the bio-chemistry of their souls
with whom shall they connect
with whom shall they sire generations of warriors
to complete the freedom vision
some mulatto syndrome babies
am I black
am I white
what shit is this
not ancestor dreams
miller lite fantasy
world of make believe
ma mama white
I don't eat soul food
what foolishness
what good was mama's food when Whole Foods guard pepper sprayed yo white black ass
what you nigger then
blinded with white majic kkk love of yo half white ass
nappy white ass nigger face lips nose
tragic mulatto syndrome ass

Don't call me hater
granny grandfather blood
mama blood run through veins of hunid mulatto cousins
I love for mama's blood ancient as the river nile/hapi
all my mulatto cousins nieces nephews I love
no matter their thoughts I hate
how can I hate Mama's blood in your veins
get real
New York City style reality
get real
blood is thicker'n water
join the sucker free club!
Love is love
the world is love
God is love
--Marvin X
3/8/19

The Tragic Mulatto Myth

Mulatto caricature cover photo

Lydia Maria Child introduced the literary character that we call the tragic mulatto1 in two short stories: "The Quadroons" (1842) and "Slavery's Pleasant Homes" (1843). She portrayed this light skinned woman as the offspring of a white slaveholder and his black female slave. This mulatto's life was indeed tragic. She was ignorant of both her mother's race and her own. She believed herself to be white and free. Her heart was pure, her manners impeccable, her language polished, and her face beautiful. Her father died; her "negro blood" discovered, she was remanded to slavery, deserted by her white lover, and died a victim of slavery and white male violence. A similar portrayal of the near-white mulatto appeared in Clotel (1853), a novel written by black abolitionist William Wells Brown.
My Baby is Black movie poster
A century later literary and cinematic portrayals of the tragic mulatto emphasized her personal pathologies: self-hatred, depression, alcoholism, sexual perversion, and suicide attempts being the most common. If light enough to "pass" as white, she did, but passing led to deeper self-loathing. She pitied or despised blacks and the "blackness" in herself; she hated or feared whites yet desperately sought their approval. In a race-based society, the tragic mulatto found peace only in death. She evoked pity or scorn, not sympathy. Sterling Brown summarized the treatment of the tragic mulatto by white writers:
White writers insist upon the mulatto's unhappiness for other reasons. To them he is the anguished victim of divided inheritance. Mathematically they work it out that his intellectual strivings and self-control come from his white blood, and his emotional urgings, indolence and potential savagery come from his Negro blood. Their favorite character, the octoroon, wretched because of the "single drop of midnight in her veins," desires a white lover above all else, and must therefore go down to a tragic end.(Brown, 1969, p. 145)
Vara Caspary's novel The White Girl (1929) told the story of Solaria, a beautiful mulatto who passes for white. Her secret is revealed by the appearance of her brown-skinned brother. Depressed, and believing that her skin is becoming darker, Solaria drinks poison. A more realistic but equally depressing mulatto character is found in Geoffrey Barnes' novel Dark Lustre (1932). Alpine, the light-skinned "heroine," dies in childbirth, but her white baby lives to continue "a cycle of pain." Both Solaria and Alpine are repulsed by blacks, especially black suitors.
Most tragic mulattoes were women, although the self-loathing Sergeant Waters in A Soldier's Story (Jewison, 1984) clearly fits the tragic mulatto stereotype. The troubled mulatto is portrayed as a selfish woman who will give up all, including her black family, in order to live as a white person. These words are illustrative:
Don't come for me. If you see me in the street, don't speak to me. From this moment on I'm White. I am not colored. You have to give me up.
These words were spoken by Peola, a tortured, self-hating black girl in the movie Imitation of Life (Laemmle & Stahl, 1934). Peola, played adeptly by Fredi Washington, had skin that looked white. But she was not socially white. She was a mulatto. Peola was tired of being treated as a second-class citizen; tired, that is, of being treated like a 1930s black American. She passed for white and begged her mother to understand.
Imitation of Life, based on Fannie Hurst's best selling novel, traces the lives of two widows, one white and the employer, the other black and the servant. Each woman has one daughter. The white woman, Beatrice Pullman (played by Claudette Colbert), hires the black woman, Delilah, (played by Louise Beavers) as a live-in cook and housekeeper. It is the depression, and the two women and their daughters live in poverty -- even a financially struggling white woman can afford a mammy. Their economic salvation comes when Delilah shares a secret pancake recipe with her boss. Beatrice opens a restaurant, markets the recipe, and soon becomes wealthy. She offers Delilah, the restaurant's cook, a twenty percent share of the profits. Regarding the recipe, Delilah, a true cinematic mammy, delivers two of the most pathetic lines ever from a black character: "I gives it to you, honey. I makes you a present of it." While Delilah is keeping her mistress's family intact, her relationship with Peola, her daughter, disintegrates.
Peola is the antithesis of the mammy caricature. Delilah knows her place in the Jim Crow hierarchy: the bottom rung. Hers is an accommodating resignation, bordering on contentment. Peola hates her life, wants more, wants to live as a white person, to have the opportunities that whites enjoy. Delilah hopes that her daughter will accept her racial heritage. "He [God] made you black, honey. Don't be telling Him his business. Accept it, honey." Peola wants to be loved by a white man, to marry a white man. She is beautiful, sensual, a potential wife to any white man who does not know her secret. Peola wants to live without the stigma of being black -- and in the 1930s that stigma was real and measurable. Ultimately and inevitably, Peola rejects her mother, runs away, and passes for white. Delilah dies of a broken heart. A repentant and tearful Peola returns to her mother's funeral.
Audiences, black and white (and they were separate), hated what Peola did to her mother -- and they hated Peola. She is often portrayed as the epitome of selfishness. In many academic discussions about tragic mulattoes the name Peola is included. From the mid-1930s through the late 1970s, Peola was an epithet used by blacks against light-skinned black women who identified with mainstream white society. A Peola looked white and wanted to be white. During the Civil Rights Movement and the Black Power Movement, the name Peola was an insult comparable to Uncle Tom, albeit a light-skinned female version.
I Passed for White Movie poster
Fredi Washington, the black actress who played Peola, was light enough to pass for white. Rumor has it that in later movies makeup was used to "blacken" her skin so white audiences would know her race. She had sharply defined features; long, dark, and straight hair, and green eyes; this limited the roles she was offered. She could not play mammy roles, and though she looked white, no acknowledged black was allowed to play a white person from the 1930's through the 1950's.
Imitation of Life was remade in 1959 (Hunter & Sirk). The plot is essentially the same; however, Peola is called Sara Jane, and she is played by Susan Kohner, a white actress. Delilah is now Annie Johnson. The pancake storyline is gone. Instead, the white mistress is a struggling actress. The crux of the story remains the light-skinned girl's attempts to pass for white. She runs away and becomes a chorus girl in a sleazy nightclub. Her dark skinned mother (played by Juanita Moore) follows her. She begs her mother to leave her alone. Sara Jane does not want to marry a "colored chauffeur"; she wants a white boyfriend. She gets a white boyfriend, but, when he discovers her secret, he savagely beats her and leaves her in a gutter. As in the original, Sara Jane's mother dies from a broken heart, and the repentant child tearfully returns to the funeral.
Peola and Sara Jane were cinematic tragic mulattoes. They were big screen testaments to the commonly held belief that "mixed blood" brought sorrow. If only they did not have a "drop of Negro blood." Many audience members nodded agreement when Annie Johnson asked rhetorically, "How do you explain to your daughter that she was born to hurt?"
Were real mulattoes born to hurt? All racial minorities in the United States have been victimized by the dominant group, although the expressions of that oppression vary. Mulattoes were considered black; therefore, they were slaves along with their darker kinsmen. All slaves were "born to hurt," but some writers have argued that mulattoes were privileged, relative to dark-skinned blacks. E.B. Reuter (1919), a historian, wrote:
In slavery days, they were most frequently the trained servants and had the advantages of daily contact with cultured men and women. Many of them were free and so enjoyed whatever advantages went with that superior status. They were considered by the white people to be superior in intelligence to the black Negroes, and came to take great pride in the fact of their white blood....When possible, they formed a sort of mixed-blood caste and held themselves aloof from the black Negroes and the slaves of lower status. (p. 378)
Angelo Movie Poster
Reuter's claim that mulattoes were held in higher regard and treated better than "pure blacks" must be examined closely. American slavery lasted for more than two centuries; therefore, it is difficult to generalize about the institution. The interactions between slaveholder and slaves varied across decades--and from plantation to plantation. Nevertheless, there are clues regarding the status of mulattoes. In a variety of public statements and laws, the offspring of white-black sexual relations were referred to as "mongrels" or "spurious" (Nash, 1974, p. 287). Also, these interracial children were always legally defined as pure blacks, which was different from how they were handled in other New World countries. A slaveholder claimed that there was "not an old plantation in which the grandchildren of the owner [therefore mulattos] are not whipped in the field by his overseer" (Furnas, 1956, p. 142). Further, it seems that mulatto women were sometimes targeted for sexual abuse.
According to the historian J. C. Furnas (1956), in some slave markets, mulattoes and quadroons brought higher prices, because of their use as sexual objects (p. 149). Some slavers found dark skin vulgar and repulsive. The mulatto approximated the white ideal of female attractiveness. All slave women (and men and children) were vulnerable to being raped, but the mulatto afforded the slave owner the opportunity to rape, with impunity, a woman who was physically white (or near-white) but legally black. A greater likelihood of being raped is certainly not an indication of favored status.
The mulatto woman was depicted as a seductress whose beauty drove white men to rape her. This is an obvious and flawed attempt to reconcile the prohibitions against miscegenation (interracial sexual relations) with the reality that whites routinely used blacks as sexual objects. One slaver noted, "There is not a likely looking girl in this State that is not the concubine of a White man..." (Furnas, 1956, p. 142). Every mulatto was proof that the color line had been crossed. In this regard, mulattoes were symbols of rape and concubinage. Gary B. Nash (1974) summarized the slavery-era relationship between the rape of black women, the handling of mulattoes, and white dominance:
Though skin color came to assume importance through generations of association with slavery, white colonists developed few qualms about intimate contact with black women. But raising the social status of those who labored at the bottom of society and who were defined as abysmally inferior was a matter of serious concern. It was resolved by insuring that the mulatto would not occupy a position midway between white and black. Any black blood classified a person as black; and to be black was to be a slave.... By prohibiting racial intermarriage, winking at interracial sex, and defining all mixed offspring as black, white society found the ideal answer to its labor needs, its extracurricular and inadmissible sexual desires, its compulsion to maintain its culture purebred, and the problem of maintaining, at least in theory, absolute social control. (pp. 289-290)
George M. Fredrickson (1971), author of The Black Image in the White Mind, claimed that many white Americans believed that mulattoes were a degenerate race because they had "White blood" which made them ambitious and power hungry combined with "Black blood" which made them animalistic and savage. The attributing of personality and morality traits to "blood" seems foolish today, but it was taken seriously in the past. Charles Carroll, author of The Negro a Beast (1900), described blacks as apelike. Regarding mulattoes, the offspring of "unnatural relationships," they did not have "the right to live," because, Carroll said, they were the majority of rapists and killers (Fredrickson, 1971, p. 277). His claim was untrue but widely believed. In 1899 a southern white woman, L. H. Harris, wrote to the editor of the Independent that the "negro brute" who rapes white women was "nearly always a mulatto," with "enough white blood in him to replace native humility and cowardice with Caucasian audacity" (Fredrickson, 1971, p. 277). Mulatto women were depicted as emotionally troubled seducers and mulatto men as power hungry criminals. Nowhere are these depictions more evident than in D. W. Griffith's film The Birth of a Nation (1915).
The Birth of a Nation is arguably the most racist mainstream movie produced in the United States. This melodrama of the Civil War and Reconstruction justified and glorified the Ku Klux Klan. Indeed, the Klan of the 1920s owes its existence to William Joseph Simmons, an itinerant Methodist preacher who watched the film a dozen times, then felt divinely inspired to resurrect the Klan which had been dormant since 1871. D. W. Griffith based the film on Thomas Dixon's anti-black novel The Clansman (1905) (also the original title of the movie). Griffith, following Dixon's lead, depicted his black characters as either "loyal darkies" or brutes and beasts lusting for power and, worse yet, lusting for white women.
The Birth of a Nation tells the story of two families, the Stonemans of Pennsylvania, and the Camerons of South Carolina. The Stonemans, headed by politician Austin Stoneman, and the Camerons, headed by slaveholder "Little Colonel" Ben Cameron, have their longtime friendship divided by the Civil War. The Civil War exacts a terrible toll on both families: both have sons die in the war. The Camerons, like many slaveholders, suffer "ruin, devastation, rapine, and pillage." The Birth of a Nation depicts Radical Reconstruction as a time when blacks dominate and oppress whites. The film shows blacks pushing whites off sidewalks, snatching the possessions of whites, attempting to rape a white teenager, and killing blacks who are loyal to whites (Leab, 1976, p. 28). Stoneman, a carpetbagger, moves his family to the South. He falls under the influence of Lydia, his mulatto housekeeper and mistress.
Austin Stoneman is portrayed as a naive politician who betrays his people: whites. Lydia, his lover, is described in a subtitle as the "weakness that is to blight a nation." Stoneman sends another mulatto, Silas Lynch, to "aid the carpetbaggers in organizing and wielding the power of the vote." Lynch, owing to his "white blood," becomes ambitious. He and his agents rile the local blacks. They attack whites and pillage. Lynch becomes lieutenant governor, and his black co-conspirators are voted into statewide political offices. The Birth of a Nation shows black legislators debating a bill to legalize interracial marriage -- their legs propped on tables, eating chicken, and drinking whiskey.
Silas Lynch proposes marriage to Stoneman's daughter, Elsie. He says, "I will build a black empire and you as my queen shall rule by my side." When she refuses, he binds her and decides on a "forced marriage." Lynch informs Stoneman that he wants to marry a white woman. Stoneman approves until he discovers that the white woman is his daughter. While this drama unfolds, blacks attack whites. It looks hopeless until the newly formed Ku Klux Klan arrives to reestablish white rule.
The Birth of a Nation set the standard for cinematic technical innovation -- the imaginative use of cross-cutting, lighting, editing, and close-ups. It also set the standard for cinematic anti-black images. All of the major black caricatures are in the movie, including, mammies, sambos, toms, picaninnies, coons, beasts, and tragic mulattoes. The depictions of Lydia -- a cold-hearted, hateful seductress -- and Silas Lynch -- a power hungry, sex-obsessed criminal -- were early examples of the pathologies supposedly inherent in the tragic mulatto stereotype.
Mulattoes did not fare better in other books and movies, especially those who passed for white. In Nella Larsen's novel Passing (1929), Clare, a mulatto passing for white, frequently is drawn to blacks in Harlem. Her bigoted white husband finds her there. Her problems are solved when she falls to her death from a sixth story window. In the movie Show Boat (Laemmle & Whale, 1936), a beautiful young entertainer, Julie, discovers that she has "Negro blood." Existing laws held that "one drop of Negro blood makes you a Negro." Her husband (and the movie's writers and producer) take this "one drop rule" literally. The husband cuts her hand with a knife and sucks her blood. This supposedly makes him a Negro. Afterward Julie and her newly-mulattoed husband walk hand-in-hand. Nevertheless, she is a screen mulatto, so the movie ends with this one-time cheerful "white" woman, now a Negro alcoholic.
Lost Boundaries is a book by William L. White (1948), made into a movie in 1949 (de Rochemont & Werker). It tells the story of a troubled mulatto couple, the Johnsons. The husband is a physician, but he cannot get a job in a southern black hospital because he "looks white," and no southern white hospital will hire him. The Johnsons move to New England and pass for white. They become pillars of their local community -- all the while terrified of being discredited. Years later, when their secret is discovered, the townspeople turn against them. The town's white minister delivers a sermon on racial tolerance which leads the locals, shamefaced and guilt-ridden, to befriend again the mulatto couple. Lost Boundaries, despite the white minister's sermon, blames the mulatto couple, not a racist culture, for the discrimination and personal conflicts faced by the Johnsons.
Pinky movie poster
In 1958 Natalie Wood starred in Kings Go Forth (Ross & Daves), the story of a young French mulatto who passes for white. She becomes involved with two American soldiers on leave from World War II. They are both infatuated with her until they discover that her father is black. Both men desert her. She attempts suicide unsuccessfully. Given another chance to live, she turns her family's large home into a hostel for war orphans, "those just as deprived of love as herself" (Bogle, 1994, p. 192). At the movie's end, one of the soldiers is dead; the other, missing an arm, returns to the mulatto woman. They are comparable, both damaged, and it is implied that they will marry.
The mulatto women portrayed in Show Boat, Lost Boundaries, and Kings Go Forth were portrayed by white actresses. It was a common practice. Producers felt that white audiences would feel sympathy for a tortured white woman, even if she was portraying a mulatto character. The audience knew she was really white. In Pinky (Zanuck & Kazan, 1949), Jeanne Crain, a well-known actress, played the role of the troubled mulatto. Her dark-skinned grandmother was played by Ethel Waters. When audiences saw Ethel Waters doing menial labor, it was consistent with their understanding of a mammy's life, but when Jeanne Crain was shown washing other people's clothes audiences cried.
Even black filmmakers like Oscar Micheaux made movies with tragic mulattoes. Within Our Gates (Micheaux, 1920) tells the story of a mulatto woman who is hit by a car, menaced by a con man, nearly raped by a white man, and witnesses the lynching of her entire family. God's Step Children (Micheaux, 1938) tells the story of Naomi, a mulatto who leaves her black husband and child and passes for white. Later, consumed by guilt, she commits suicide. Mulatto actresses played these roles.
Dorothy DandrigeFredi Washington, the star of Imitation of Life, was one of the first cinematic tragic mulattoes. She was followed by women like Dorothy Dandridge and Nina Mae McKinney. Dandridge deserves special attention because she not only portrayed doomed, unfulfilled women, but she was the embodiment of the tragic mulatto in real life. Her role as the lead character in Carmen Jones (Preminger, 1954) helped make her a star. She was the first black featured on the cover of Life magazine. In Island in the Sun (Zanuck & Rossen, 1957) she was the first black woman to be held -- lovingly -- in the arms of a white man in an American movie. She was a beautiful and talented actress, but Hollywood was not ready for a black leading lady; the only roles offered to her were variants of the tragic mulatto theme. Her personal life was filled with failed relationships. Disillusioned by roles that limited her to exotic, self-destructive mulatto types, she went to Europe, where she fared worse. She died in 1965, at the age of forty-two, from an overdose of anti-depressants.
Today's successful mulatto actresses -- for example, Halle Berry, Lisa Bonet and Jasmine Guy -- owe a debt to the pioneering efforts of Dandridge. These women have great wealth and fame. They are bi-racial, but their statuses and circumstances are not tragic. They are not marginalized; they are mainstream celebrities. Dark-skinned actress -- Whoopi Goldberg, Angela Bassett, Alfre Woodard, and Joie Lee -- have enjoyed comparable success. They, too, benefit from Dandridge's path clearing.
Mafam Jones pressing oil advertisement
The tragic mulatto was more myth than reality; Dandridge was an exception. The mulatto was made tragic in the minds of whites who reasoned that the greatest tragedy was to be near-white: so close, yet a racial gulf away. The near-white was to be pitied -- and shunned. There were undoubtedly light skinned blacks, male and female, who felt marginalized in this race conscious culture. This was true for many people of color, including dark skinned blacks. Self-hatred and intraracial hatred are not limited to light skinned blacks. There is evidence that all racial minorities in the United States have battled feelings of inferiority and in-group animosity; those are, unfortunately, the costs of being a minority.
I Crossed the Color Line movie poster
The tragic mulatto stereotype claims that mulattoes occupy the margins of two worlds, fitting into neither, accepted by neither. This is not true of real life mulattoes. Historically, mulattoes were not only accepted into the black community, but were often its leaders and spokespersons, both nationally and at neighborhood levels. Frederick Douglass, W.E.B. DuBois, Booker T. Washington, Elizabeth Ross Hayes,2 Mary Church Terrell,3Thurgood Marshall, Malcolm X, and Louis Farrakhan were all mulattoes. Walter White, the former head of the NAACP, and Adam Clayton Powell, an outspoken Congressman, were both light enough to pass for white. Other notable mulattoes include Langston Hughes, Billie Holiday, and Jean Toomer, author of Cane (1923), and the grandson of mulatto Reconstruction politician P.B.S. Pinchback.
There was tragedy in the lives of light skinned black women -- there was also tragedy in the lives of most dark skinned black women -- and men and children. The tragedy was not that they were black, or had a drop of "Negro blood," although whites saw that as a tragedy. Rather, the real tragedy was the way race was used to limit the chances of people of color. The 21st century finds an America increasingly more tolerant of interracial unions and the resulting offspring.
© Dr. David Pilgrim, Professor of Sociology
Ferris State University
Nov., 2000
Edited 2012

1 A mulatto is defined as: the first general offspring of a black and white parent; or, an individual with both white and black ancestors. Generally, mulattoes are light-skinned, though dark enough to be excluded from the white race.
2 Elizabeth Ross Hayes was a social worker, sociologist, and a pioneer in the YWCA movement.
3 Mary Church Terrell was a feminist, civil rights activist, and the first president of the National Association of Colored Women.

References

Barnes, G. (1932). Dark lustre. New York, NY: A. H. King.
Bogle. D. (1994). Toms, coons, mulattoes, mammies, & bucks: An interpretive history of Blacks in American films. New York, NY: Continuum.
Brown, S. (1969). Negro poetry and drama and the Negro in American fiction. New York, NY: Atheneum.
Brown, W. W. (1853). Clotel, or, The President's daughter: a narrative of slave life in the United States. London: Partridge & Oakley.
Carroll, C. (1900). "The Negro a beast"; or, "In the image of God". St. Louis, MO: American Book and Bible House.
Caspary, V. (1929). The white girl. New York, NY: J. H. Sears & Co.
De Rochemont, L. (Producer), & Werker, A. L. (Director). (1949). Lost boundaries [Motion picture]. United States: Louis De Rochemont Associates.
Dixon, T. (1905). The clansman: an historical romance of the Ku Klux Klan. New York, NY: Grosset & Dunlap.
Fredrickson, G. M. (1971). The Black Image in the White Mind: The Debate on Afro-American Character and Destiny 1817-1914. New York, NY: Harper & Row.
Furnas, J. C. (1956). Goodbye to Uncle Tom. New York, NY: Apollo, 1956.
Griffith, D.W. (Producer/Director) (1915). The birth of a nation [Motion picture]. United States: David W. Griffith Corp.
Hunter, R. (Producer), & Sirk, D. (Director). (1959). Imitation of life [Motion picture]. United States: Universal International Pictures.
Hurst. F. (1933). Imitation of life, a novel. New York, NY: Harper & Bros.
Jewison, N. (Producer/Director). (1984). A soldier's story [Motion picture]. United States: Columbia Pictures Corporation.
Laemmle, C. Jr. (Producer), & Stahl, J. M. (Director). (1934). Imitation of life [Motion picture]. United States: Universal Pictures.
Laemmle, C. Jr. (Producer), & Whale, J. (Director). (1936). Show boat [Motion picture]. United States: Universal Pictures.
Larsen, N. (1929). Passing. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf.
Leab, D. (1976). From Sambo to Superspade: The black experience in motion pictures. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin.
Micheaux, O. (Producer/Director). (1938). God's step children [Motion picture]. United States: Micheaux Film.
Micheaux, O. (Producer/Director). (1920). Within our gates [Motion picture]. United States: Micheaux Book & Film Company.
Nash, G. B. (1974). Red, white, and black: The peoples of early America. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Preminger, O. (Producer/Director). (1954). Carmen Jones [Motion picture]. United States: Carlyle Productions.
Reuter, E. B. (1918). The mulatto in the United States. Boston, MA: Badger.
Ross, F. (Producer), & Daves, D. (Director). (1958). Kings go forth [Motion picture]. United States: Frank Ross-Eton Productions.
Toomer, J. (1923). Cane. New York, NY: Boni and Liveright.
White, W. L. (1948). Lost boundaries. New York, NY: Harcourt, Brace.
Zanuck, D. F. (Producer), & Kazan, E. (Director). (1949). Pinky [Motion picture]. United States: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.
Zanuck, D. F. (Producer), & Rossen, R. (Director). (1957). Island in the sun [Motion picture]. United States: Darryl F. Zanuck Productions.

Marvin X poem, message from the Last Poet in America and the World

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Oh, Merry men of  Jerusalem

You come into my house of peace
with no desire for my daughters
you only inquire for the angels
my daughters desire husbands
yet you desire them not
you want to don high heel shoes
the kind my daughters wear
when they go to the ball
who shall they be after the clock hits twelve
where is their black shining prince
fathers of their children
so urgently needed
as their clock strikes twelve
rocking the bio-chemistry of their souls
with whom shall they connect
with whom shall they sire generations of warriors
to complete the freedom vision
some mulatto syndrome babies
am I black
am I white
what shit is this
not ancestor dreams
miller lite fantasy
world of make believe
ma mama white
I don't eat soul food
what foolishness
what good was mama's food when Whole Foods guard pepper sprayed yo white black ass
what you nigger then
blinded with white majic kkk love of yo half white ass
nappy white ass nigger face lips nose
tragic mulatto syndrome ass

Don't call me hater
granny grandfather blood
mama blood run through veins of hunid mulatto cousins
I love for mama's blood ancient as the river nile/hapi
all my mulatto cousins nieces nephews I love
no matter their thoughts I hate
how can I hate Mama's blood in your veins
get real
New York City style reality
get real
blood is thicker'n water
join the sucker free club!
Love is love
the world is love
God is love
--Marvin X
3/8/19

Parable of the Patriarch and Misanthrope

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Parable of the Patriarch and Misanthrope




No misogynist
homophobic
sexist pig
no racist
hater white nationalist
hater
Democratic Socialist
Communist
Marxist
Troskyist
Maoist 
been there did that
just don't like humans
fake phony fraud motherfuckas
all up in yo face
fake love rapper say
I say
low information vibration 
humankind
world of make believe
material girls and boys
ignut of spiritual world
parents/ children on animal plane
no seekers of truth
lovers of lies
lie to me lie to me
my lover said
you lie so good
lie nigga lie
but I told truth
my over  said goodbye
low information vibration
Qur'an say
animal plane
human plane
divine plane
are you animal human divine?
you fine fine fine
but what's on yo mind?
Girl T shirt said
Cute but Psycho!
you fine
big behind
what's on yo mind?
treat ya like a ho'
ya love me so
treat ya like a queen
ya hate me mean
children same
abandon neglect
you love me
give you everything
ya hate me
ungrateful bastards
we call them
how you smarter'n yo daddy
did you suffer exile jail prison
black listed white listed
house arrest
hated by friends and foe
traveled wit baddest niggas to and fro'
what do you know
goin' to and fro'
square nigga in round world
what did you do
went to school where yo daddy put his life ona line to teach
made things better fada whole town
but you got a frown
ain't never went down
funky town
you daddy's twin
you say where similarities end
you fool
school can't help a fool
material things can't help a fool
monkey in tuxedo still monkey

I say call me
you say fa what?
cause I'm yo daddy motherfucka
call yo daddy motherfucka
think you got forever
they say child abuse when parent don't call child
What about elderly abuse when you won't call mama daddy
I love what Tupac told his Mama
"You might be a Crack fiend Mama
But you still a Black Queen Mama!"
Call me fa what? Cause I love you.
Is this enough
you got my DNA
in deep structure of mental spiritual

I don't hate you
love you beyond love
if you knew
fool
school can't help a fool
don't know a good deck
four Ace of Spades
But I love you still
stop fakin' ya doin' God's will
you and your Father are one
fool
How can you hate Father
Are you not Father's number one son
Shall your children hate you
for all good you have done 
under the sun
what goes around comes around
did they teach you dat in school
fool?
For my abuse of women
I lost eye
I understand why
what goes round comes round
low information vibration
My barber say mis-information
bless his heart
moved his shop from mis-information colleagues
barber said he needed to be round more mature personalities
don't wanna kill a nigga owe him fifty dollars
just know there are fifty dollar fools in da world

Again, why I hate human beings?
They pitiful
Chris Rock say to women
"Everything bout you is a lie!"
I say of men and women
Everything bout you is a lie!
truth ain't in ya.

Feed a nigga
dope a nigga
Hennessy a nigga
pay a nigga
nigga hate ya guts
nigga jealous envious

Sun Ra say
What kind of people are these
ain't people I used to know
Birmingham Alabama people
They say brother
What kinna brother
Sunny say to me
What kinna brother
brother man
brother beast
brother girl

I say long ago
what kinna people are these
really make ya wonder
Hurry Allah
wit da fire water!

you sacrifice fada people
will da people sacrifice
fada people?

Black Panthers say
Power to the people
US Constitution say
power to consent of the governed
do you consent to the present order of terror
economic terror
military religious terror
slave wage terror
90% don't have $1,000.00 in bank
99% survive from check to check

Elijah said it best
trick trick out  trick!
Reverse Tricknology 
bring nigga back from dead
deaf dumb blind

Granddaughter Naima say
Can deaf dumb blind
see
no
hear
no
speak
no
I say Stevie Wonder can see
Ray Charles could see
better'n you and me
Ray told bout Danger Zone
Ray say
Look round
you will see
what's troublin' me
Danger Zone everywhere
Read yo papers
you will see
Danger Zone Everywhere.

I ain't no hater
I'm a lover
like no other
just don't come at me wit willie foo foo bullshit
been wit coldest niggas in da world
I know shit from Shinola
Know Ginger Ale
from Coca-Cola

I love my chidren
a thousand times than they shall ever know
love their mothers
my siblings too

I only have a minute more wit you
So I shall be true true true
Love the family God bequest to you
love them for their negrocities (Amiri Baraka term--he told me don't steal his term!)
love them beyond similarities of the physical
love them for the DNA  the metaphysical.
--Marvin X
1/15/19

Marvin X poem: I saw Toby today

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Marvin X at Frank Ogawa/Oscar Grant Plaza, 14th and Broadway, downtown Oakland. 
photo Pendarvis Harshaw

 Marvin X established his Academy of da Corner at 14th and Broadway, also on Lakeshore Ave. and the Berkeley Flea Market.
photo Adam Turner

After 400 years
I saw Toby today
down from Kunta Kinti
royal robes of Maa't
today funky
stinkin'
Toby
came in Peet's Coffee
Lakeshore Oakland
sat down at black woman table
she don't know what to say
Terrified Toby at her table
sippin' her Latte
tried to sit cool
Toby fool sick
Kinti mind dead
way backin' time
1619
was it Kinti's crime
Toby Villain victim
African army of Tobys
disabled veterans of US war on Toby
call Toby drugs crime in the street
deranged disoriented
I love the Whispers line
Lost and Turned out
on way to Grandmother's house
Toby
Elijah say lost-found socalled Negro
I call him North American Africa
Elijah say he Aboriginal Asiatic Black Man
Maker Owner Planet Earth
Really
This Toby in Peet's Coffee
If he own it will he claim it
too sick to claim own mind
Young dread lock brother ask Toby to leave
dread brother know Toby
know Toby sick
he kind to Toby
Young dread brother know Elijah lesson The Proper Handling of People
Tony pull up pants
Black woman sign relief
And this is my king
this Toby thang
no thanks
Where is Kunta
rise Kunta
Rise and take me home
yes
through door of no return
Malcolm X said we left our minds in Africa
rise Kunta
don royal robes
let us depart as we came in the water
submerged
we sail path Baraka told
"In the Atlantic Ocean
railroad of human bones....
King sold farmer to ghost
King sold farmer to ghost...."

Take me Kunta
no more Toby please
kill Toby hang him please
Toby no good nobody
Recycle Toby
let Kunta speak
speak Kunta
spit your royal rap
spit Hebrew Christian Muslim Yoruba Ma'at Sufi Sunni Democratic Socialist Communist Troskyist
Vudun Santeria Candomble' Holy Ghost Five Per Cent Noble Drew Ali Democrat Negro Republican Negro spit
gender sex gods
ocean gods rivers
mountain gods money gods
kill mama daddy money gods
speak
King Kunta speak
no silencia por favor
digame digame digame
stand Toby as Kunta
once again
at the crossroads of Legba Eshu Ptah Peter
Can Toby wash in river ocean stream
wash baptism of return
wash
drum ancestor rhythms
bata
djembe
conga
listen Toby listen good
let drum heal heart.
listen Toby listen good
God hears those who praise Him
Our Lord to Thee is due all praise.
Sami Allahu liman al hamida
Rabbana na laki al hamd.
---marvin x
1/17/19

Marvin X Speaks and Reads 
coast to coast. 
Now booking.
jmarvinx@yahoo.com




Marvin X  Tour  2019

February 16, Sat
Alameda CA
Reading/ book signing
Back 2 Nature Wellness Salon
and Barber Shop
475 Central Avenue
3-6pm

February 22, Friday
Reading book signing
Hunters Point, San Francisco
5:30-7:30
901 Fairfax Avenue

February 23, Saturday
Oakland 
Reading/book signing
BAMFEST


Marvin X reading at Charles Wright Museum, Detroit MI, December 15, 2018. He has been invited back at another venue for Black History Month
photo Leona McElevene 

February 28, Thursday
Detroit, MI
TBA


March 2, Saturday
Reading/book signing
Philadelphia PA
Brothers Network
TBA

May
Reading/book signing
Seattle WA
Host Hakeem Trotter
TBA

August 
National Black Theatre Festival
Winston-Saleem, North Carolina
TBA

October
Austin, Texas
How We Got Ova 1619-2019
A poetic myth/ritual dance drama 
by El Muhajir, aka Marvin X


Train in da Water
poem by Marvin X
"In the Atlantic ocean is a railroad of human bones...."--Amiri Baraka

Train came to ocean
we riding in da water
Riding waves bout to go under
How sweet da waves
train went under
Passing da many fish
As we submerged
How pleasant da train
Going down slowly
another space for peace
Let da ocean wash us with love
We connect the bones of Baraka's railroad
train rides down into darkness
where no light is needed.
we  black ocean same.

--1/13/19


The X Men: Marvin X, son Marvin K, grandsons Jordan and Jahmeel

Dear Black Folks,

Stay out of white folks bizness. They stay out of our bizness in the hood, even though they supply the guns, dope, sick religion, . mis-education, toxic food, water, air; death music rap beats, perverted psycho-sexuality of  do yo thang, be what ya wanna be; totally insane political policies  that violate their own laws at the drop of a hat, e.g., sanctuary cities and states. Imagine what white folks would do if we declared the hood a sanctuary space that excluded Europe American entrance and jurisdiction and banned them from arresting North American African criminals for any reason without our consent. We establish and adjudicate all violations in our space. Imagine this!

Stay out of white folks bizness. They suffer a malady far worse than white Supremacy. Our ancestors and elders called their condition white lunacy.

Let them fight among themselves. Let them have their second Civil War. That's their bizness not ours. Our  business is to establish a sovereign, independent nation. The master and slave do not have the same agenda.
--Marvin X
1/14/19

Poet/Essayist/Educator/Activist Marvin X after his lecture/discussion in Davey D's Hip Hop class at
San Francisco State University, Marvin X's alma mater. He was a founding member of the Black Students Union.
photo Davey D

Notes of Artistic Freedom Fighter Marvin X 
Now Available
Order your copy from
Black Bird Press
requested donation
$29.95
call 510-575-7148
credit cards accepted


Marvin X
Poet, playwright, essayist, educator, activist
speaking/reading
University of Chicago, 2015

photo Burrell Sunrise


In Honor of Women's Herstory Month: A Memoir of Poet, Critic, Novelist, Professor Sherley Ann

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In Honor of Women's History Month: A Memoir of Poet, Critic, Novelist, Professor Sherley Ann Williams

Sherley Anne Williams's picture

Sherley Anne Williams


USA flag (1944 - 1999)

Sherley Anne Williams was born in Bakersfield, California and was an African-American poet. Many of her works tell stories about her life in the African-American community. When she was little her family picked cotton in order to get money. At the age of eight her father died of tuberculosis and when she was sixteen her mother died. In 1966 she earned her bachelors degree in English at what is now California State University at Fresno and she received her master's degree at Brown University in 1972. The following year (1973) she became a professor of English Literature at the University of California at San Diego. Her works include collections of poetry such as The Peacock Poems (1975), the novel Dessa Rose (1986), and two picture books.




Mama told her star child, Marvin X, who didn't know he was her star child, although his eight siblings knew, not to get married, rather she prescribed that he needed a maid, secretary and mistress, not a wife. Mama knew his high school girlfriends, especially his main two, Catholic School girl Patricia Smith, a year ahead of him, whom he married and gave him his two sons. Mama knew his other high school girlfriend as well, Shereley Ann Williams, with whom he experienced from the fifth grade through high school graduation.  Yes, Mama knew both girls, but told him he should marry Sherley Ann because she was smart. Mama loved intelligence and hated ignorance, after all, she was a self educated woman who only graduated from high school but became the top black business woman as a real estate broker in Fresno, California. Even before she became a businesswoman in her own right, she and her husband, Owendell Jackmon I, were real estate brokers in the late 40s and 50s and sold homes to most North Americans in Fresno, yes, during the era of redlining. Additionally, his parents published a black newspaper called the Fresno Voice. Yes, his parents were called Race man and woman. His father was without influenced by the Marcus Garvey Movement. He told his star child son that he'd seen Marcus Garvey in Los Angeles, 1923. Father Jackmon was a WWI veteran who'd served in the cavalry as a bugler. Yes, he rallied the troops. He used to awaken his children with the cavalry mantra, "Dismount, unsettle your horses and clean your equipment!" Marvin X childhood memories are hearing his parents discuss the N double A, CP, endlessly, along with his father's constant talk of the Black Belt South, Communist terminology for the Jim Crow South.

Marvin X, in his Gemini madness, loved Pat and Sherey but wanted to marry Pat after she got pregnant in his senior year. His mother told him because a girl got pregnant, it was no reason to marry her. Again, his mother had advised him not to marry at all but if he wanted to marry, Sherley was the girl because she was smart and most of all, his mother loved intelligence and hated ignorance.

Marvin and Pat enjoyed a sensual relationship, especially in the 100 plus degree heat of the Central Valley. But when he and Sherley Ann Williams got to high school, their intellectual love affair began.
They were in the Honor Society, lifetime members of the CSF, California Scholarship Federation, State Honor Society; members of the drama club and speech club. Marvin and Sherley performed in the school production of Dino, made famous by actor Sal Mineo, with Marvin as Dino. Intellectually, Sherley was Marvin's teacher. She turned him onto Cervantes' Don Quixote but more especially novelist Frank Yerby.

Sherley educated Marvin to literature and blues. He educated her to revolution.

After a failed relationship, an aborted child that Marvin X regrets to this day, Sherley concuded, "Marvin X and I are friends and sometimes we fuck!"

A tenured professor at UC San Diego, she died at 51 years old. When she died, famed author Dr. William H. Grier, co-author of the 60s classic Black Rage, told his son, Geoffery Grier, brother of David Allen Grier, also an actor to portrayed Black Panther co-founder Huey P. Newton in Marvin's docudrama One Day in the Life, "Tell Marvin, Sherley didn't die from asthma but from toxic white supremacy at UC San Diego." Indeed, Sherley had told Marvin for years that she was in a toxi relationship with her white female colleagues at UC San Diego, she hadn't spoken with them in years were her last words to Marvin X.

The Blue Dream proudly presents the Honorable Poet Marvin X

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What is it?
The Art of Storytellin’ is a concept created for people to be able to share stories. The objective is for people to be surrounded be like minded individuals and share stories from their past. Good, bad, positive, negative, non-fiction, or real life everyone has a story to tell. This platform is also a community bonding event. Made for people to be able to meet people who actually live close to them. The bazaar is a collective of various vendors who range from jewelry makers, painters, app builders, 3D designers, and other creators. This event will be able to empower our small businesses in giving them a place to build clientele, as well as sell their respective products.
This Art of Storytellin' installment will feature West Oakland Native Marvin X
He grew up in Fresno and Oakland, in an activist household. He graduated from Thomas Alva Edison High School in Fresno in 1962. His parents published the Black-owned paper of Fresno, California, called the Fresno Voice.[1] The 1947 paper advertised community events, local businesses, including their own real-estate business, and focused on national and state events including: the promotion of anti-lynching laws, Jackie Robinson Day, New York Freedom trains being integrated, the mission work of the Catholic church with Indian and Negroes, and the $350 million expansion of PG&E in California.
Marvin X has four living children and one son who preceded him in death.

Art of Story Tellin' + Creators Bazaar

Event InformatioDescrip

Parable of pitiful ass white folks and their global sycophants

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Firstly, let us establish that the Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad said it best for all times, "The white man is the devil!" But let us be clear that this does not mean to suggest that there are not black devils since Elijah told us we are the father of the devil, although we are gods, the Aboriginal Asiatic Black man. So we enjoy a kind of schizophrenia in that we can don multiple personalities, god and the devil among them. In our acquired skills of shuffling, dancing and head scratching, we can perform as the devil's imps! Such has been the role of house negroes so eloquently delineated by ancestor Malcolm X and demonstrated by neo-colonial Pan Africans from the Motherland, throughout the Americas and Caribbean or Diaspora.

But the arrogance of the blue-eyed white devil is unsurpassed. Alas, we have been hoodwinked and bamboozled (again, Malcolm X term) into believing the Euro-American-Latin system of slavery was long ago terminated. Yet, we know full well slavery or "human trafficking" is alive and well as I write, especially sex trafficking of children, women and men, as in the old days. Even babies in the womb and immediately out of the womb are being sold for body parts and human sacrificial rituals.
In this global trade of bodies, body parts and sex for religious myth/ritual and satanic rituals, there is an almost universal consensus by all religions and mythological societies and institutions that human beings are expendable. Among this global cabal, in the name of Jesus, tell me who is without sin? Jews, Christians, Muslims, Yoruba, Buddhists, Hindu, same gender loving people?

Alas, I did not begin this discourse on the theme of sexuality but rather the pronouncement that the white man is the devil. Let us congratulate President Donald Trump for his profound desire to stay white as in MAGA, and every sensible person can decipher the meaning in the deep structure of his remarks, especially those of us cognizant of psycho-linguistics. But is it not clear in the surface structure of President Trump's white nationalist pronouncements that he does not distinguish between Democrats and Republicans when he rants about draining the swamp? We are fully aware of the Never Trumpers in leagues with the traditional political establishment that is ultimately not loyal a party but to lobbyists, lobbyists for globalists, lobbyists for the military-industrial-university-technological complex that transcends what President Eisenhower warned us about.

Moving closer to my point, there is so many contradictions and conundrums in the multiplicity of tricknology designed by the devil to snare the deaf dumb and blind that one would and must indeed be a rocket scientist to extricate oneself and most especially one's people from the snares of the devil.

As I more toward my conclusion, I want to expound on the latest news from academia, especially since the only employment I ever had was mainly in academia, yes, it was short-lived but I enjoyed enough temporary tenure to speak with limited authority on the subject, after all, at 25 years old I was invited to teach Black Studies at Fresno State University but removed on orders of Gov. Ronald Reagan, 1969, yes, 50 years ago, the same time he demanded the removal of Angela Davis from teaching at UCLA. And three years later I was invited to lecture in Black Studies at the University of California, Berkeley, then San Francisco State University where I obtained my B.A. and M.A. in English/Creative Writing, then was a Visiting Professor at the University of California, San Diego, also University of Nevada, Reno, Mills College, Laney and Merritt Colleges in Oakland.

Therefore, do you think I am not qualified to speak on the mythology and rituals of American academia? After all, I married two of my students who gave birth to three of my most wonderful daughters. Do you think I am shocked as America pretends to be at the power of wealth in academia?
I am not. I was told to give a passing grade to athletes who were totally illiterate and the entire university knew so, faculty, students, alumni, trustees, everybody, but these "slaves" were worth millions to the university.  Enough!
--Marvin X
3/14/19




Marvin X book review: Just Another Nigger by BPP Field Marshall Donald Cox

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As an unrepentant user of the N word, Donald Cox's memoir of his life in the Black Panther Party made me sympathetic to the book from the title alone, even more so when I learned he gleamed the title from W.E.B. DuBois who said the same when introduced by Chairman Mao before a million people in China's Tienanmen Square, "Thank you, Chairman Mao for your gracious introduction, but in my country, i.e., USA, I am just a nigger!"

But at the memorial service for BPP member Elbert Big Man Howard, DC's former wife and BPP member Barbara Easley Cox, told me about the book and said she was not a happy camper about it.
I forgot about the book until a supporter of my Academy of da Corner, Lakeshore Ave., Oakland purchased the book and after reading it, passed it onto me, requesting my critique. Only a few days before, my dear friend from Oakland City College, aka, Merritt College, Sister Ann Williams, had gifted me a copy of Donna Murch's history of the Black Panther Party, Living For the City. Ann was featured in the book. Donna had tried to interview me for the book at Amiri Baraka's house in Newark, NJ, where she is a Professor of History at Rutgers University. Ann didn't press me to review Donna's but my supporter did so I took up his offer even thought I read very litutle these as I am blind in my left eye.

My Academy of da Corner supporter told me he especially wanted to know what I thought of DC's ungracious comments about Eldridge Cleaver and David Hilliard. As per Eldridge, I told him when I wrote my memoir of Eldridge Ceaver: My Friend the Devil, people were aghast, but I replied, "Didn't you guys call him the devil from the beginning, i.e., after I was the first person he hooked up with  upon his release from Soledad Prison, late 1966; organized the political/cultural center with him, Black House; introduced him to my friends from OCC/Merritt College, Huey Newton and Bobby Sealse, after which he joined the BPP as Minister of Information. He and I hooked up again when he returned from exile as a Born Again Christian. I was variously his chief of staff, secretary, photographer, bodyguard, driver and organizer of his ministry Eldridge Cleaver Crusades. After he joined the ancestors on May Day, 1998, I officiated his memorial service in Oakland. In Stanley Nelson's documentary film: Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution, after interviewing me for several years coast to coast, the only footage Nelson used was my comments about Eldridge.

Thus, I knew quite a bit about Eldridge but DC's filled in some gaps in my knowledge as per EC in exile, although EC had told me much more than DC revealed in his memoir of the BPP, yet I am thankful for what DC did reveal, after all, it was from another horses's mouth. And yet one must be careful about information presented from primary sources, e.g., at the memorial for Elbert Big Man Howard, Chairman Bobby Seale had to be relieved of the mike when his remarks about Big Man morphed into Bobby as the solitary genius of the BPP, originator of all BPP programs, policies and wisdom! Yet, we love you Bobby Seale, just know that!

With my visual disability, I was yet able to devour DC's book as it was an easy read, in simple language. DC noted that many of the BPP members were totally illiterate and this was true in the Black Arts Movement and Black Studies as well. Alas, when I taught English on the university and community college, when I asked my mostly white students to read orally, I discovered, much to my surprise, white students are equally as illiterate as black and chicano students.

His narrative is a coming of age or coming into consciousness journey of that white supremacist terror inflicted on North American Africans. DC descended from John Brown Abolitionist roots in the Kansas area, including biracial heritage. Alas, what North American African doesn't have biracial roots, after all the motherfucker fucked our mothers, fathers and us? And don't leave Miss Ann out of this interracial drama cause she was fucking niggers too!

What becomes clear from DC's narrative that must be instructive for young generations if they are to transcend the patriarchal mythology, the revolutionary woman were as busy as the men sexually. DC relates Eldridge's infatuation with a 14 year old Algerian girl, no matter he was married to Kathleen, yet declined to participate with the BPP International Embassy when the BPP members demanded
he end his relationship with the 14 year old, even after it was disclosed she was having a sexual relationship with a fellow BPP member. Most critically, of course, was the BPP member Rahim who was killed after EC learned he had a sexual relationship with the love of Cleaver's life, his wife, Kathleen.

I think what younger generations of men and women need to understand as I delineated in my 18 page monograph The Mythology of Pussy and Dick, DC made it plain in his treatise that men and women were equally sexually free during this era, except the men suffering the patriarchal mentality and mythology couldn't accept the fact that were equally as free sexually as the men, yet the men sometimes resorted to homicide to claim their masculine superiority.

My Mythology of Pussy and Dick tried, yes, 2009, before the #Metoo era, to let men know they don't own the female as chattel property, i.e., personal property as per the slave laws, and likewise, the women don't own the men, no matter they claim ownership to the point of cutting off the man's penis for sexual transgressions as per the marriage rites, i.e., til death due us part!

What disturbed me and yet what I appreciated most about DC was his honesty and sincerity no matter how much the internal and external rats tried to devour him mind, body and soul. No matter how deeply his soul, mind and body was submerged in the rat hole of revolutionary socio-pycho-pathological madness, whether internal or external--for sure, the Panthers and the FBI/CIA and international governmental institutions  attempted to destroy the BPP, DC kept his head up high, even though he suffered revolutionary "negrocities" himself.

He was honest enough to delineate the contradictions of BPP members when they became victims of Marxist-Lennist-Stalinist ideological dogmatism that made them don the persona of revolutionary romanticism and domination that made them feel superior to fellow members below the Central Committee and masses or lumpen. We hope that in the present era of neo-Communism and Democratic Socialism the present generation does not fall victim to such ideological madness that will lead them to such actions as imprisonment and homicide.

We wonder why DC did not describe the brutal murder of Samuel Napier in the west coast/east coast struggle of the BPP. He comes close in his narrative of the New Haven BPP madness and the NY Panther 21 who were eventually expelled in the BPP fratricide.

He tried to explain why the New York Panthers did not accept the official BPP line of "integration" because of Harlem's long history of Black Nationalism from Marcus Garvey, Elijah Muhammad and Malcolm X. We appreciate his narrative of Chicago's Chairman Fred Hampton's attempt to involve his rainbow coalition of Puerto Ricans and poor whites into the black liberation movement.

DC was ultimately overwhelmed by BPP psycho-pathological personalities and external forces, including the FBI, CIA and other global entities.











--continued
Marvin X
3/18/19
Donald L. Cox, who was at the center of black radical politics as a member of the Black Panther Party high command and who earned a moment of celebrity in 1970 when he spoke at the Leonard Bernsteinfund-raising party in Manhattan made notorious by the writer Tom Wolfe, died on Feb. 19 at his home in Camps-sur-l’Agly, France. He was 74.
His wife, Barbara Cox Easley, did not specify a cause. He had been living abroad since the early 1970s, when he fled the country after being implicated in a Baltimore murder.
Known as D. C., Mr. Cox held the title of field marshal with the Panthers, the socialist movement founded by Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale in Oakland, Calif., in 1966. Mr. Cox was living in San Francisco at the time and became part of a group known as the central committee, which included Mr. Newton, Mr. Seale, Eldridge Cleaver and a handful of others.
Mr. Cox’s job was to travel the country to establish and supervise branch offices. But he was also the Panthers’ arms expert — writing about the proper use of guns in The Black Panther, the party newspaper, teaching party members to shoot and even procuring guns. The Panthers embraced the use of guns in defense of what they saw as black liberation from a white racist establishment; Mr. Cox liked to say he was in charge of the Panther military.
He also served the Panthers as a spokesman, and in January 1970 he appeared with a handful of Panthers and some 80 other guests at the Bernstein apartment on Park Avenue. The occasion was a fund-raiser for the legal defense of the New York Panther 21 — 19 men and 2 women who had been indicted on charges of plotting to kill police officers and blow up several sites, including Midtown stores, police precinct houses and the New York Botanical Garden.
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“Some people think that we are racist, because the news media find it useful to create that impression in order to support the power structure,” Mr. Cox told Mr. Bernstein’s guests. “They like for the Black Panther Party to be made to look like a racist organization, because that camouflages the true class nature of the struggle.”
The fund-raiser was notable for its clash of cultures. As Charlotte Curtis of The New York Times reported, “There they were, the Black Panthers from the ghetto and the black and white liberals from the middle, upper-middle and upper classes studying one another cautiously over the expensive furnishings, the elaborate flower arrangements, the cocktails and the silver trays of canapés.”
Among the conversations Ms. Curtis noted was an exchange between Mr. Bernstein and Mr. Cox.
Mr. Bernstein: “Now about your goals. I’m not sure I understand how you’re going to achieve them. I mean, what are your tactics?”
Mr. Cox: “If business won’t give us full employment, then we must take the means of production and put them in the hands of the people.”
Photo
From left, June Hilliard, Donald L. Cox and Elbert Howard, all Black Panthers, around 1970.CreditStephen Shames & Alan Copeland/Polaris
Mr. Bernstein: “I dig absolutely.”
The event raised nearly $10,000, Ms. Curtis reported. In May 1971 all 21 of the accused Panthers were acquitted. In June 1970 Mr. Wolfe’s article, “Radical Chic: That Party at Lenny’s,” was published in New York magazine. A skewering of Mr. Bernstein and his guests, it advanced Mr. Wolfe’s career as a leading proponent of the so-called new journalism. But it was reviled by Mr. Cox. The guests that night, he told Roz Payne, who documented the history of the Panthers in a series of films, “were really a concerned bunch of people.”
He added that “it was those media freaks and that bloodsucking Tom Wolfe” who exploited the cause of black liberation to make money from it and “to be part of the machinery that tried to ridiculize it.”
Donald Lee Cox was born on April 16, 1936, in Appleton, in west central Missouri, where he grew up hunting small game and reading everything he could find about nature and the outdoors.
“I read all the books in the library about snakes,” he told Ms. Payne for her film series. (That series has been released on DVD under the title taken from the Panther party platform: “What We Want, What We Believe.”)
He moved to San Francisco at 17, by his own account an ignorant country boy who was politically naïve until he joined the Panthers.
But as he explained in interviews, anger had been building up in him over attacks on black people, like the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala., in 1963, which killed four black girls, and, closer to home, the shooting of an unarmed black teenager by policemen that set off a riot in the Hunters Point neighborhood of San Francisco in 1966.
“It was a steady accumulation of pressure, like a volcano,” he said.
Shortly after the Bernstein dinner, Mr. Cox was charged as a conspirator in the July 1969 murder of Eugene Anderson, a Panther who had been a police informer in Baltimore. Mr. Cox said he had had nothing to do with the killing. One of several co-defendants was convicted of the crime.
After a warrant was issued for his arrest, Mr. Cox left the country, first living in Algeria and then in France. His first marriage, in San Francisco, ended in divorce. He met Ms. Easley, who lives in Philadelphia, in the 1960s, and though they had not lived together since he left the country, she said, they married in 2006 so that she would have legal standing in his affairs.
In addition to Ms. Easley, he is survived by a daughter, Kimberly Cox Marshall of Vallejo, Calif.; two sons, Donald, of Dallas, and Jonathan, of Philadelphia; five grandchildren; and a great-grandson.
“He created a very comfortable life here,” his wife said in a phone interview from Camps-sur-l’Agly, where she was tending to her husband’s matters, though she added that the isolation had begun to wear on him.
“Exile will do that to you,” she said.
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