blk4mascblk READY TO CHANGE THE WORLD. Success is imminent. - Sep 13 add/view comments (0)

"Hey mom, come look at this!" "What is it baby? I'm trying to finish a report for class tomorrow." "Kanye West just walked up and took the mic from some white girl who was making a speech at the MTV Video Music Awards. The crowd is booing." Jenelle put down her laptop and walked into the small, poorly lit living room. She got to the tv just in time to see the camera pan over to a mortified Beyonce, then back to the face of a stunned, silent Taylor Swift. As the young country singer was escorted off the stage, Jenelle asked, "What happened?" "Kanye thought Beyonce should have won the award, so he walked up and said so. And it's live tv." Mother and son broke into simultaneous laughter. They laughed because of their long running inside joke about black people and inappropriate public behavior. "They should have known you can't invite everybody to a live telecast. Don't they know Kanye is IGNANT?" Jenelle says with hands on hips. "Mom, he actually stopped her in the middle of her acceptance speech. It was her first award ever", said Joshua. "That poor girl. Hope she doesn't develop a complex about black rappers and microphones," Jenelle joked. Pun intended. Jenelle started back toward her bedroom and her homework. "Don't forget to take out the trash before bed baby." "Okay mom, I won't forget." Joshua continued to watch the VMA's. Jenelle could hear a host with a British accent in the background as she sat on her purple, green and blue striped Fingerhut bedspread. She picked up the worn but reliable Mac Powerbook as she thought about Joshua. She had done a good job raising him. She worked hard to make sure he had a fairly safe environment, the latest clothes, and the new Wii video game. The next things he wanted were a new Sidekick phone (the old one was two years old and looked every bit of it) and a laptop of his own. But he was a good kid. He was an obedient son and had always helped around the house and gotten good grades. He deserved the best a mother could provide. As a matter of fact she was in school now to get a better paying job so she could help him through college. She was two semesters away from her bachelor degree in Information Technology. In two years Joshua wanted to go to Morehouse to major in Afro-American Studies or Architechture. He hadn't decided yet. Jenelle was proud of her son. He was 16 years old, an honor student, wasn't in a gang, and didn't have any children of his own, thank God. The sound of her cell phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. She picked up the G1 next to her and looked at the caller i.d. It was an 866 number. A creditor calling to collect on one bill or another. She took a deep breath before answering. "Hello," "Hey, what's up? Could I speak to Jenelle please?" said the voice of a white guy trying to sound as cool and as ethnic as he could. "Jenelle isn't here right now, may I take a message please?" she lied. "I know this is Jenelle. We have spoken before," his voice changing quickly to that of an uptight, conservative white man. "When do you plan on paying your Mastercard bill?" he says with a nasty tone. "I will pay it when I can," Jenelle says, becoming irritated. "Well when is THAT going to be? We haven't received a payment in two months. And you are over your limit, with late fees included." "Sir, I am not in the habit of not paying my bills. I'm having a tough patch right now. I need a little more time, okay?" "You don't have much more time. If we don't receive a double payment in thirty days, your card will be cancelled and we will begin collections on your account." She could feel her blood pressure rising. "You heartless bastar..." "Mom. Is everything okay?" Joshua was standing in her doorway. She looked at him, breathed again, and nodded. Returning her attention to the bill collector, she said simply, "I will do the best I can. Goodbye." Before he could respond, Jenelle pressed the end call button. Jenelle looked at her son and hoped her dream of giving him an opportunity for a better life than hers wouldn't come crashing down around them.

MARCH 1993... Jenelle Mason waddled down the isle of the grocery store, her very pregnant belly ahead of her. She was uncomfortable in the bra she was wearing because her nipples were tender and leaking. Sometimes she felt so alone and overwhelmed. Really she didn't need to be in the store because her mother kept plenty of food around the house. But she needed to get out of the house and get some air. She loved her mother but knew they could not get along well enough to live together long. Her mother would not let her get over getting pregnant instead of staying in college after high school. And granted, her mother was right, she should have finished school first. But this wasn't planned. She hadn't intended to meet a guy at work and end up falling for him. She was as surprised as anyone of meeting someone older with a background very different from her own. Actually the most unlikely romance developed very innocently. He came into the small diner regularly for lunch with clients or potenial clients. Men in suits. There was something about how they shook hands before and after the meetings that told her they were men of importance. And she knew by the bits of conversation she overheard that they worked in the construction industry. She served them lunch one day and became his preferred waitress. Middle-aged, handsome, classy gentleman type. Asked for her by name, which made her manager happy and her co-workers envious. He had a great smile, and was a really good tipper. That always impressed her, meeting people with money who were humble and giving, instead of arrogant and cheap. But in her line of work, she experienced a little of both and a lot in between. He eventually became the little patch of joy in her days. Then it happened...one day he came in as usual with a client. They had lunch as usual. And he said "Thank you very much Jenelle", before paying the check, as usual. But this time, as he handed her the Visa card, his direct look into her eyes lingered a few beats too long to be usual. She didn't realize until she got to the cash register, that underneath the credit card was his business card with the words "call me, Robert" written on the back. She was instantly both excited and afraid to think of what this could mean...Jenelle was from West Palm Beach, Florida. A small city not far from Miami. The side of the city she was raised in was very poor and very black. Knowing he didn't understand her world made him attractive to her. But some part of her was afraid to imagine that he could be attracted in return. The question in her mind began to build, moment by moment for hours until she reached for the phone and dialed his number. They spoke for hours late at night. They planned. They met in planned places, discreet locations, rented rooms. Within a month, her period stopped. Immediately, she stopped seeing him. Soon after, she quit the diner. Eventually, the number he called daily was out of service. She would soon move to Atlanta with her newly divorced aunt, Peggy. Standing in the long checkout line of the grocery store, she shifted from foot to swollen foot. She thought back to meeting him and had no regrets. But she wondered what the future would hold for her baby, as she had decided to raise him alone. "There's an Angel around that baby." Jenelle turned toward an older woman in a yellow flowered print dress standing in line behind her, breaking from her own thoughts..."Hunh, uh what did you say?" "Honey, there's an angel with a sword guarding that baby you're carrying. God's watching over THAT one. Remember that, okay?" The woman said this as a matter-of-fact. The woman was so sure that it sounded like an ordinary thing to hear from a stranger. THERE'S AN ANGEL WITH A SWORD GUARDING THAT BABY...Jenelle repeated the words that came to her with such timing, as if in response to what she was asking. And she began to believe that her child was special in some way that is meaningful. Many nights in the coming months, she would rub her belly and tell the growing baby inside, "God is watching over you."

In the news today is a case we have not seen in mainstream news before. A female South African runner is being made to PROVE her gender, according to Olympic officials in Berlin where the sporting contests are being held. The 18 year old Caster Semenya, after genetic testing, has been found to have both male and female characteristics. "Semenya is claimed to have NO womb or ovaries—and has internal testes, the male sexual organs which produce testosterone. The row over Semenya’s biology has caused huge divisions—with South African politicians calling slurs she is a man “racist and sexist.” Her birth certificate has the teen listed as female and urine tests showed that, despite her having higher than average male hormone levels, they are within the official limits for a woman." (American Rennaissance.com) The teenaged Olympian is now under suicide watch because the gender test results have been made public. There is no indication that she knew of her hermaphroditic biology until now, as she was raised as a female. Should Semenya be banned from the Olympic games? Should she be ashamed of her genetic make-up? I say "No." to both questions. I believe this is mostly a fear by opposing teams, and negligence by the media. Because Semenya is a dominant force as an athlete, her opponents would rather not compete. Something about this rings of the sisters Venus and (especially) Serena Williams, even Tiger Woods. Another dominant black athlete shunned by their sport. Certainly, the element of race plays a part in how the situation was handled with the media. Have we ever heard of doctor-client priviledge? Perhaps the teenager should have been better protected from such a humiliating display of her personal medical information being made known to the world. Caster Semenya has done nothing wrong. All she has done is excel at her sport. Shame on the people responsible for making a spectacle out of this.

I think that by now most of the United States and perhaps much of the free world has heard about Kanye West's VMA incident. In case you live on another planet and did not see it on tv or hear about it around the water cooler at work, I will rehearse the event for you. New and very popular country artist Taylor Swift won an MTV Video Music Award sunday night. It just so happened that in the same category, Beyonce's ALL THE SINGLE LADIES video had been nominated. Just as Taylor was telling her fans thank you for her first ever award...Kanye West suddenly appears onstage, takes the microphone, and comments that Beyonce's video for her hit song ALL THE SINGLE LADIES was one of the "best music videos of all time." He hands the mic back to a stunned, silent Taylor Swift. The crowd at the VMA's begins to boo the outspoken hip hop artist and producer. Most people watching considered the unexpected outburst unacceptable behavior, especially from a well-known musical artist. That being said, the next question after "How is that poor Taylor Swift feeling right now?" is: What did Kanye think about his own behavior? He went on Jay Leno the same night and this is some of what he had to say....(follow the link to a clip from the Leno show.)

 http://video.aol.com/video-detail/today-show-today-show-kanye-west-to-jay-leno-it-was-rude/1647169976

After viewing the show, I got the sense the Kanye the person is much like an obnoxious teenager trying to find his way. He did not seem at all like the arrogant, mouthy artist he is portrayed as in the media. He was visibly upset at his own actions and expressed sincere regret for having stolen the country singer's moment. And he said he needed to take some time away to ponder how he will go through the rest of his life, how he will improve as a person. I hope this moment and its subsequent backlash will cause Mr. West and other celebs to think before they act, especially on live tv.

FRIDAY MORNING... An attractive, red-headed receptionist sits at the pale wood and glass desk, headphones on, answering and placing calls on hold as she answers the next call in cue. After about five minutes, she stands, walks over and gestures toward Harold's office door. "Mister Lewis, Mr. Bernstein will see you now..." Thank you, he says on his way inside the large corner office with a fluffy beige lambswool rug surrounded by a glossy red and brown tile floor. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the air as he enters. A small suede couch, a coffee table and a flatscreen HD tv sit in an area to the left of Harold's desk. Harold, an excellently dressed Jewish gentleman in his early forties, appears from a side door just as Robert gets seated in a swivel chair in front of the desk.

Harold sits down behind his desk, presses the intercom button, and orders two cups of coffee from the redhead.

"I must tell you I have never heard of anything like this before, Robert. Let me be clear of your intentions. You want to sign over your entire estate to someone you don't even know? "Yet", Robert says, more to himself than to Harold. "What?" says the bewildered Harold Bernstein. "Yet, I said... I dont know him yet." Robert states this as if he is sure he will meet this mystery person. "I have to tell you this is skating very dangerously around the sound mind clause in your will. Have you seen someone about the sleep problem? Maybe it's something more serious." "I'm not crazy. My mind is just fine. I had this dream...really more like a set of instructions. Aren't you a religious man? Do you believe God sometimes shows us a glimpse into the future?" "Yes, like to remind me my wife will be upset if I don't get milk on the way home. You don't go out and will everything you've got to an unnamed stranger because of a dream." Robert rises, walks around his chair, stands with hands in pockets looking out of the 7th floor window, back facing a frustrated Harold. After a few moments Robert turns back around. "Thank you for your concern Harry, but I know what I'm doing. Please trust me, old friend." Harold sits back in his swivel chair, reluctantly opens a drawer, pulls out a document on a leather bound pad and slides it across the desk to his client. Harold stares as his client browses the document for a moment before taking the heavy silver and onyx pen and signing on the signiature line at the bottom. The redhead receptionist comes in after a few moments with two cups of coffee, and to collect the documents. She stamps and notorizes them before making copies for the office file.