If we continue
to keep ourselves in a box defined by a society that doesn’t embrace our
uniqueness, we will be forever bound by stereotypes, hatred, and the idea that
blacks can be fractionated, our culture easily defined, and bodies worth
nothing. The bank account for passivity is bankrupt and the percentage of those
who are angry is steadily rising.
I am not 3/5.
I am not my melanin.
I am not my
hair.
I am not my gpa.
I am human.
I am morgan Siobhan green
Thursday, December 4, 2014
The complexity of the human race
To those that ask me what I am...
I don't know. I am Morgan. I was born in Illinois. My parents were born in Illinois. Regardless where I'm from or what I am my skin is brown.
My parents are educated, as am I, and it hasn't kept me from being pulled over.
Sat on the pavement. Searched. Followed. Etc.
To assume that any two people in any culture are the same is simply impossible.
To assume that all blacks are capable of heinous crimes is preposterous.
I'm advocating for the complexity of the human race. Not by color gender socioeconomic etc but by humanity
While still understanding the issues we are dealing with right now are rooted in stereotypes. Racism and the idea that their is a cultural hierarchy.
Those that are committing these crimes. Killing innocent men believe that they are justified in their actions
1. Because the victims were black therefore they had to be up to something
2. They could get away with it
It's that simple. To them.
I am more complex than my race and the color of my skin. I have dreams, desires, hobbies etc that make me who and what I am. My race is but one facet of that but while we are killing those of my race simply because of their skin I will continue to advocate for a world in which we don't see color and tack on traits. We don't see race and assume the worst and judge. History, literally, keeps repeating itself. Over and over again. To be upset that we are upset is to say black lives don't matter. Human lives are expendable and the anyone can project their own personal Darwinism upon me.
I don't know. I am Morgan. I was born in Illinois. My parents were born in Illinois. Regardless where I'm from or what I am my skin is brown.
My parents are educated, as am I, and it hasn't kept me from being pulled over.
Sat on the pavement. Searched. Followed. Etc.
To assume that any two people in any culture are the same is simply impossible.
To assume that all blacks are capable of heinous crimes is preposterous.
I'm advocating for the complexity of the human race. Not by color gender socioeconomic etc but by humanity
While still understanding the issues we are dealing with right now are rooted in stereotypes. Racism and the idea that their is a cultural hierarchy.
Those that are committing these crimes. Killing innocent men believe that they are justified in their actions
1. Because the victims were black therefore they had to be up to something
2. They could get away with it
It's that simple. To them.
I am more complex than my race and the color of my skin. I have dreams, desires, hobbies etc that make me who and what I am. My race is but one facet of that but while we are killing those of my race simply because of their skin I will continue to advocate for a world in which we don't see color and tack on traits. We don't see race and assume the worst and judge. History, literally, keeps repeating itself. Over and over again. To be upset that we are upset is to say black lives don't matter. Human lives are expendable and the anyone can project their own personal Darwinism upon me.
To those who can't see themselves on the pavement...
For those that can't find the issues with these crimes and want to
play devils advocate. To those that believe that the world is black and
white. It's not. We are complex beings. Saggy pants doesn't equal
laziness. A college degree doesn't equal intelligence. We are a society
engrained in visual verification. Show me. Show me.
It infuriates me that we still make comments like "wanting to be white". I'm a person. I have traits too complex to be bound by stereotypes. Too unique to be confined by idiocracy.
It infuriates me that we still make comments like "wanting to be white". I'm a person. I have traits too complex to be bound by stereotypes. Too unique to be confined by idiocracy.
Unfortunately, in these types of situations you are forced to pick
sides (I pick the indictment side, just to clarify). We defend these
issues not because we are black but because we are human. Because it
should sicken anyone to see a person lose their life at the hand of
those who are employed to protect them. To watch wives bury their
husbands. Mothers buying their sons.
These men are not animals. There is no such thing as black rage. For hundreds of years black bodies have been a mystery to the western world. The way we are shaped. Our laughter. Our existence has been a mystery. Not one worth exploring but one worth exploiting. Not one worth delighting in but destroying.
I'm angry. I'm sickened and frankly I'm pissed.
I have a right to be and for those who don't see or understand why, I would say look around but unfortunately I can also say, pick up a history book and tell me what progress we have made? We have replaced ropes with bullets.
Maybe the reason some black fathers aren't in the home is because institutionalized racism has stolen them. Police brutality has taken them and Justice didn't defend them.
#nojusticenopeace
#toomanynames
#blacklivesmatter
These men are not animals. There is no such thing as black rage. For hundreds of years black bodies have been a mystery to the western world. The way we are shaped. Our laughter. Our existence has been a mystery. Not one worth exploring but one worth exploiting. Not one worth delighting in but destroying.
I'm angry. I'm sickened and frankly I'm pissed.
I have a right to be and for those who don't see or understand why, I would say look around but unfortunately I can also say, pick up a history book and tell me what progress we have made? We have replaced ropes with bullets.
Maybe the reason some black fathers aren't in the home is because institutionalized racism has stolen them. Police brutality has taken them and Justice didn't defend them.
#nojusticenopeace
#toomanynames
#blacklivesmatter
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Nacht des broken Herzen
Today I am on my way home from Brooklyn, New York where I reside while attending graduate school. It's a culture shock. When I say culture shock I mean there is actually culture there. Sitting on the Amtrak next to a white woman, who I'm sure could glance a peek if she wanted, I feel an unsteadiness. Her world seems to keep turning. Her core seems engaged and she seems to be content with the world, her place in it, and what's to come in her life. Sitting next to her I realize the likelihood of my son being buried compared to hers. They could grow up as friends. Live in the same neighborhood, and go to the same private high school, yet her son would most likely attend my sons funeral rather than vice a versa. When I was about 7 years old I distinctly remember being adamant about BABY BORNS. If you're not an early nineties kid, baby borns were this doll that pooped, peed, and cried like a real baby. The commercials made it seem glorious. Especially appealing to a little black girl who had been engrained with the idea of motherhood since God knows when. See parents receive immortality by giving life to children. By extending their bloodline, name, traits, and raising an individual to be better, do better, become better than their predecessors. As I become older the statistics and cruel, harsh reality of the world begins to rear it's ugly head more frequently and without remorse. I've often said, I'm doing what I can. My hard work will speak for itself and will just be one step towards progress. No. On November 24 2014 I realized what was brewing in my soul like a ferocious unapologetic natural disaster: revolution.
Now keep in mind I'm only twenty three but my ideas, opinions, and humanity have lead me TODAY to finally start a blog I procrastinated creating since the idea became a thought. The idea of being vulnerable and showing weakness is something I've been avoiding, trying to hide for years. It's affected my acting work, relationships, and even made me questioned why and who has made me this way. Regardless of the reason, some subconscious fear has definitely held me back. In academia I have always found myself as the "other". Coming from a middle class family and having two degree holding, master recipients to call parents, has put me in classrooms where the faces are white and the seats are cushioned with inherited privilege. I've often found myself saying things such as," the slaves were free, yes, but they were economically,socially, politically, and geographically in bondage", "how do you justify the hosing of women, and lynching of black men" to name a few. I found myself on the defense. Constantly fighting to shed light in classrooms where a voice such as mine may never have been heard. I tried to not fumigate the dialogue with sadness but with anger. Anger to mask. Anger to isolate. Anger to emotionally detach. Nights such as yesterday broke a heart I spent so long cementing. Want to know why? I learned my life doesn't matter. My sons life can be taken. Days such as these where the weakness of the black community is exposed: our children.
When I say children I don't limit that to just infants but to those whose lives and innocence are taken before they know the definition. Our children, who never get the chance to raise children or attempt at bettering society by contributing to its progression. I imagine sitting in the back yard watching my son play basketball enjoying his youth. Letting him go out with his friends. Praying to God he becomes more than I can even take credit for. Instead I'll be praying that he buries me. Praying that he, if he's anything like his momma, can keep a cool head in hot situations. Praying some cop, some vigilante, so bigot doesn't take matters into their own hands and make a hashtag about my son.
I don't know what I'm gonna do yet but something's going to be done. It has to be done. To the white woman sitting next to me, I hope our children do meet. In a land, the kind, Martin Luther King Jr. dreamed of. Fought for. Died for. Cause this right here is a black mans fear and the black mothers worst nightmare. Black lives matter. Life matters. I matter.
"See I like to think training day was a joke and Denzel didn't study real cops to get real noms or real inspiration
see this nation tends to poke its neck and set other nations straight
when we lynch our own and give a slap on the back to the pig that put the cap into black, red, and white skin.
See what's the difference between Anne frank hiding in the basement and a black mans face on the pavement because hate killed both of them.
See we as a people perish because we have a lack of knowledge. No officer it's not that I can't get out of the car it's that I don't have to. See I wonder what Jesus would do if he knew he could come down from the cross instead of saving the lost who choose to lose knowing they can live through repentance. "
- MORGAN GREEN
Now keep in mind I'm only twenty three but my ideas, opinions, and humanity have lead me TODAY to finally start a blog I procrastinated creating since the idea became a thought. The idea of being vulnerable and showing weakness is something I've been avoiding, trying to hide for years. It's affected my acting work, relationships, and even made me questioned why and who has made me this way. Regardless of the reason, some subconscious fear has definitely held me back. In academia I have always found myself as the "other". Coming from a middle class family and having two degree holding, master recipients to call parents, has put me in classrooms where the faces are white and the seats are cushioned with inherited privilege. I've often found myself saying things such as," the slaves were free, yes, but they were economically,socially, politically, and geographically in bondage", "how do you justify the hosing of women, and lynching of black men" to name a few. I found myself on the defense. Constantly fighting to shed light in classrooms where a voice such as mine may never have been heard. I tried to not fumigate the dialogue with sadness but with anger. Anger to mask. Anger to isolate. Anger to emotionally detach. Nights such as yesterday broke a heart I spent so long cementing. Want to know why? I learned my life doesn't matter. My sons life can be taken. Days such as these where the weakness of the black community is exposed: our children.
When I say children I don't limit that to just infants but to those whose lives and innocence are taken before they know the definition. Our children, who never get the chance to raise children or attempt at bettering society by contributing to its progression. I imagine sitting in the back yard watching my son play basketball enjoying his youth. Letting him go out with his friends. Praying to God he becomes more than I can even take credit for. Instead I'll be praying that he buries me. Praying that he, if he's anything like his momma, can keep a cool head in hot situations. Praying some cop, some vigilante, so bigot doesn't take matters into their own hands and make a hashtag about my son.
I don't know what I'm gonna do yet but something's going to be done. It has to be done. To the white woman sitting next to me, I hope our children do meet. In a land, the kind, Martin Luther King Jr. dreamed of. Fought for. Died for. Cause this right here is a black mans fear and the black mothers worst nightmare. Black lives matter. Life matters. I matter.
"See I like to think training day was a joke and Denzel didn't study real cops to get real noms or real inspiration
see this nation tends to poke its neck and set other nations straight
when we lynch our own and give a slap on the back to the pig that put the cap into black, red, and white skin.
See what's the difference between Anne frank hiding in the basement and a black mans face on the pavement because hate killed both of them.
See we as a people perish because we have a lack of knowledge. No officer it's not that I can't get out of the car it's that I don't have to. See I wonder what Jesus would do if he knew he could come down from the cross instead of saving the lost who choose to lose knowing they can live through repentance. "
- MORGAN GREEN
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