DrewRicketts Fakes: http://tinyurl.com/odxq36 - May 20 add/view comments (0)

I'm reading a book on nonviolent protest and the young people who incited the most aggressive tactics in history with the civil rights struggle and sit-ins. The book is called The Children, by David Halberstam, and has me questioning the depths of my faith. To be specific, even if I'm not a labeled Christian, or Buddhist or Muslim, I have (and need) faith in the heavenly process that brought me here in order to live peacefully.

But even in the limited human awareness I have of a general "purpose" in this world, that purpose is constantly tested by both the outside world of temptation, and by my own inner struggles. The Freedom Riders of the 1950s and 60s who made their way through the hostile, hazy highways of Birmingham, Alabama and Jackson, Mississippi with only the knowledge that what they were doing was just, and that they might get severely beaten for defying segregation law, were not passive spirits at all. They were militant and bold to embrace a practice that, in the worst cases, could get them killed. John Lewis, Bernard Lafayette, Martin Luther King, Andrew Young, Diane Nash and countless other participants vowed not to ever act or react with violence when confronted. They had to have a sense of resolve even as they had violence committed against them.

It's true that I'm no civil rights activist in the thick of social combat, warring for my right to be human. On the contrary, I have benefited from their bravery, and the bravery of any one who voiced the right to human equality in history.

But in knowing I am the same as they are, because we each breathe air and pump blood, I recognize that violence is the ultimate danger between two people. The Freedom Riders resisted violence as a matter of resolve to move things from disharmony to harmony in their environment.Because we are social, humans thrive on the best and simplest means of communication. It could be as simple as a shrug, or a moan, but we need the assurance that we are in commune with our fellow man. When we abandon that principle, we violate. Violation breeds violence. As soon as we let go of the morals that bind us, to treat the next person with true reciprocity and love, we stray into violent territory. Whether it's by words or by actions, violence is the acid that gnashes away at the sinews of love and faith.

Recently I dealt a violent blow to someone I love without even raising a hand. I lied to her, betrayed her confidence and hurt her in the process. I have all this violent resentment toward outside love and affection that shows itself in undesirable, chronic ways. In this way, I'm sure many of us have traumas and past grievances that affect us in profound moments of unconscious surrender. My traumas, like yours, are many. Rather than facing the consequences of my trauma, with the guide of my neighbors' and ancestors' experiences, I reacted in a violent way. I wondered if I could control the impulse to act against misdeeds done to me, forgive the past so I could see clearly in the present. Choosing the destructive path of violence and sinking faith will always hurt us and the ones we have been close to.

She explained to me that I had been violent to her in the way that men sometimes are: choosing another woman and then concealing it. It amounts to bringing the strange, antagonistic force of deception quietly into your bedroom. Even if you never inflict the worst real consequence -- disease -- you are inflicting grave harm to someone who unknowingly has been made susceptible and vulnerable. To bring that kind of harm to my most trusted, beloved ally is a grave mistake and a violent act at least. Yet men do it all the time, using mostly our instincts as a reason, not realizing that we could temper our instincts with empathy for our partner's way of thinking. I did it with no real thought to how much I could be violating her feelings of worth or her secure reality.

The speculation around Chris Brown and Rihanna (and that is exactly where it starts and ends: speculation) is that Brown was making himself known to other women, essentially violating the songstress's trust and sullying her appearance to others. She reportedly wasn't fond of his affairs with women, and became violent in response to the sexual violence of his cheating. Since the photos surfaced of a grotesquely battered Rihanna, every man and woman from every walk of life has had a take on who suffered the greatest injustice. Foolishly, we compare our resentments and our pains instead of looking to heal them by looking at their common origins.

Some claimed that she brought it on herself if she introduced physical violence or external anger. Others also saw what he did as reprehensible because of his gender, and the assumed strength of a man over a woman. While it's true that Rihanna may have been unduly violent, and that Chris Brown escalated the level of physical violence with a still more virulent attack, the moral has been lost. Both Brown's acts of infidelity and his blows of force were violent toward his mate. Rihanna's verbal threats and later physical attacks (again: speculation), were borne from a breakdown in communication. They will now be relegated to a courtroom, where jurors and media members will force whatever communication they can out of two young ex-lovers. Sadly, they will be mantled with the embarrassment of a long legacy of violence that they did not create in their affair, but that played itself out in their homes and in ours.

Violence is never the correct approach.

Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Jesus and our other heroes of lore show us that violent reproach is never an acceptable end point when spiritual connection is the goal. Violence is the opposite of faith in their minds, and it should be our ruling theory. I am sorry that I cheated on my girlfriend. I am also regretful that I did not have the strength to resist the violence of deception as the answer to my trauma, or to recognize how much of my will I had to summon to be a person of faith. Now I have wrapped myself in a tussle with the universe, where only violence has been, and I must calm it as persistently as I drummed it up. Is there a way we can get past violent behaviors? Man to woman? Woman to man? Adult to child? Black youth to black youth? Or are we doomed to neglect the origins of our deepest violations? I hope this issue becomes clearer as I get on in this world.

-Drew Ricketts

When I walk around the neighborhoods of Brooklyn (and mostly the poor ones) making daily runs to the library and the basketball court, I notice there are a lot of people out these days.

That scrolling bottomline on CNN with the headlines keeps flashing numbers in the six-figure range of people reporting unemployment. It reminds me of the Richard Pryor sketch where he plays the first black president and is asked about his plans for the economy as the the jobless rate rises. He replies with indignation at the notion that the "national" unemployment number has just started to match that of black folks. In fact, we tend to be way ahead of the curve on the unemployment rolls.

I

feel like Tommy because, fact is, I ain't got no job. But for the first time in my life, I'm fairly proud to be self-educated, self-employed (sometimes) and looking for enterprise outside the normal lanes of opportunity.

We mortgage our houses, but also our lives with endless leasing. Student loans build up mounds of debt, all because we want the chance to become part of someone else's money-stuffed pie.

Rather than look to the corporations that have failed us time and again, I have resolved to give self-sufficient living a shot. There are so many ways to exist that we never take into account because of fear. The lack of faith in anything other than Wells Fargo and Fannie Mae has hurt our willingness to be creative.

Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. DuBois seemed at odds because of their competing philosophies. Washington wanted the underclass of black citizens in the South to adopt skills that were irreplaceable so that the larger white community had to rely on those skills.

DuBois wanted to be accepted by mainstream America as Americans, without having to lose blackness or humanity in the process. Turns out they were both right even though history sets them up in a Biggie-Tupac style rivalry.

I would rather pursue a private source of income, but all the money in the world won't necessarily earn me any respect. Million-dollar athletes, chained to a system that generates much more than they'd ever dare spend on a kit for their Escalades, are the best example of the cultural poor: they still face brutality, disrespect and denigration when the game's buzzer sounds.

We have to live in both realities, where we can be independent because of special skills, but also where a man can earn a decent wage if he works for a larger business. But those days are long gone. It's come down to the haves and the have nots. It's Craig and Smokey on the porch or Mr. Business goes to work with few in betweens.
                                    
Thomas Jefferson wanted an American society fueled only by our resources being turned into profit. By his estimation, we either had to innovate or become obsolete. Can we give up what's comfortable in the name of creating our own means, in other words? For the jobless, listless and soon-to-be helpless legions of black folk out there, the world will not wait on us to acquire skills or to catch up.

The United States, despite our black president, has not been sympathetic to the black plight -- or any plight of the "victim" for that matter. What our nation has been sympathetic to, however, is the person who can make and keep his own. And that's my challenge: become the next self-sustaining writer who can chronicle the black experience.

Sometimes it seems like writing is more of a calling than a choice. Artistry comes in many forms, and God knows there are plenty more artists in the world than there are people to read their work, praise their paintings or listen to their music. A recession is one of those times when the immediate rewards of writing are few. I came to BP with a lot of hopes for the relationship I could forge with the company by applying as an intern. All of the time, effort and passion I had for covering news stories during a historic year was met with the same enthusiasm from all my colleagues. NewsOne.com remains a unique voice in black news, and I was fortunate to be surrounded by such talent and integrity. Casey Gane-McCalla writes with a forceful, convincing voice that combines wit, awareness and a sense of moral equity. He is an influential blogger, nay producer, of note in a growing group of black modern writers.

But I also learned some painfully important truths about working with others that I hold with me. First, always greet your superiors with respect and polite candor. Second, the best creative projects are collaborative, and will only be as successful as the strength of the teamwork that manifests them. I had some philosophical differences with a smart, opinionated editor that nearly ruined a terrific project. In hindsight, I see that arrogance was blinding me, and that the passion I intended to show seemed more like misguided energy.

All the same, I take the black perspective very seriously. More still, I take the human perspective seriously. In writing about who I am and how I identify, I hope to offer people some insights into how to find their inner compass, or at least a measure of faith in our connection to each other as people. Back like I never left, I'll be writing on all my favorite topics like news, sports, culture, music, relationships and fantasies. Anything under the sun is my favorite topic, I guess, and that dialogue will move me along in my journey, and hopefully touch yours in some way.

Also, don't be afraid to hit me up with topics for discussion. This week I'm thinking about the movie "Obsessed" because I haven't seen it, and I want a reason to.

-Drew Ricketts

p.s. Hit me up with topics for discussion. Supreme Court choices? NBA playoffs? Got that. Got that.

If any of us were looking intensely for the moment that President Obama differentiated himself from the Eurocentric, Western apologist presidents of the past, he had it in his first official interview. Al-Arabiya broadcast the newly minted head of state speaking in realistic terms about the potential for renewed mutual respect between the Arab world and the U.S. When the events of 9/11 tested our understanding of enemy extremists lurking abroad, that confusion awakened anew an anti-foreign sentiment that America scarcely needed. For all of our years of domestic racism against American Indians and enslaved Africans, we had similar spells of distrust for Europe's first immigrants, Catholics, Asians, Latinos and every possible shade and creed in between. The problem with distrust in our melting pot is that it impedes our ability to work and to welcome new workers to our cause as a nation.

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