Posts Tagged ‘BLACKS’

AARE,AARE,AARE!- IYA AGBA WITH THE AARE ONA KANFO GANI ADAMS IN NIGERIA OOO!

September 20, 2018

YORUBA KING APPEALS TO THE BLACKS IN THE DIASPORA TO EMBRACE AFRICA !!!

August 4, 2018

ASO OKE OOO!–THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOTH IN THE WORLD !!!!

July 31, 2018

BABA OYIN OOOO!AFRICAN HERITAGE RESEARCH LIBRARY AND CULTURAL CENTRE CELEBRATES HIS FIFTH “OJO IBI O!”

July 20, 2018

Lllll0l0 ,s

JAY Z MADE A KING IN NIGERIA OOOO!

July 24, 2017

FROM NAIRALAND.COM

 

WE MUST HAVE A BLACK STANDARD OF BEAUTY BASED ON THE BLACK SKINNED BLACKEST WOMAN

Monday, July 03, 2017

Jay Z conferred as Chief during Visit To Nigeria In 2006 – Celebrities – Nigeria

http://www.nairaland.com/2324640/photos-jay-z-conferred-chief

Music mogul Jay-Z was in Nigeria in 2006 and he visited Ilorin , Kwara State, to see the efforts being made by the state government to provide clean portable water.

Jay Z is a Chief in Nigeria , the title was conferred by Alhaji Ibrahim Gambari, Emir of Ilorin. He also had a road renamed Shawn “Jay Z” Carter road and was present during the commissioning .Pics below:

source>> http://www.kingebuka.com/2015/05/photos-from-jay-zs-visit-to-nigeria-in.html




Re: Photos: Jay Z conferred as Chief during Visit To Nigeria In 2006 by Nobody: 8:50pm On May 19, 2015
See as e resemble sanusi lamido grin
Reporting from ilorin… It was 2006 nt 2008
Re: Photos: Jay Z conferred as Chief during Visit To Nigeria In 2006 by KingEbukasBlog(m): 9:02pm On May 19, 2015

achemedez:
See as e resemble sanusi lamido grin

Reporting from ilorin… It was 2006 nt 2008

grin I don change am , tanx

Re: Photos: Jay Z conferred as Chief during Visit To Nigeria In 2006 by Sandydayz(f): 9:27pm On May 19, 2015
Nice!!!
Re: Photos: Jay Z conferred as Chief during Visit To Nigeria In 2006 by Nobody: 9:46pm On May 19, 2015

KingEbukasBlog:
grin I don change am , tanx

BLACKS–FIGHT BLEACHING LIKE THIS SISTER OOOO!-FROM MENAYE IDEAS ON WORDPRESS

June 9, 2017

A poem to support Sarah Nana Adwoa Safowaa, face of kasu 2016, in her campaign against skin bleaching 💐 She’s bold She’s beautiful She can hold She’s not shameful She’s neither fearful 👩 SHe’s not white Yet She’s bright SHe signifies authenticity And portrays purity A great masterpiece 👨 SHe and she Are you […]

via BLACK IS LIT — Menaye Ideas

THE BLACKEST BEAUTY MUST BE CELEBRATED!!

February 4, 2017

JOOO fight all this bleaching by Celebrating the Blackest beauty like the white boy celebrates the ugly white/girl/no/lips/no/hips/no/nose/no/ass/no/color as beautiful! Everywhere you go salute these Blackest Beauties and let them know that they are the most beautiful ! Put them back on top of the Beauty Pyramid like God did in the beginning!

YORUBA VILLAGE IN amerikkka!-SOUTH CAROLINA-OYOTUNJI VILLAGE WHERE YORUBA RELIGION IN PRACTICED!–FROM VICE.COM

August 2, 2015

from vice.com

WE MUST HAVE A BLACK STANDARD OF BEAUTY BASED ON THE BLACK SKINNED BLACKEST WOMAN

Sunday, August 02, 2015

OYOTUNJI 000000!–A YORUBA VILLAGE IN SOUTH CAROLINA!-FROM VICE.COM

from vice.com

An Oral History of the West African Village That Has Been in South Carolina for Four Decades

July 30, 2015

By Christopher Kilbourn

The king on his throne. All photos of an ancestor worship ceremony at Oyotunji by the author

At the tail end of the 1960s, elements within the Civil Rights Movement were having a debate about how the African-American community at large should confront the hostile and ignorant society in which it resided. Some advocated peaceful assimilation; others raised the idea of a violent, apocalyptic insurrection. And a few suggested moving to rural South Carolina, establishing a polygamous religious commune, and creating an outpost of West African culture through regular acts of ancestor worship, animal sacrifice, and other rituals.
On VICE News: Road-Tripping to South Carolina With the ‘New’ KKK This outpost is the Oyotunji African Village, founded by a man known as His Royal Highness Oba Oseijeman Adefunmi I, who in the late 60s was inspired to leave New York, purchase land in the Deep South, and establish a community born from the idea that black empowerment needed to focus on culture, not just economic independence.
More than four decades later, Oyotunji persists, providing a pleasant setting for converts to the Yoruba religion to live out their spiritual lives. According to a 1995 Essence article, the village had about 120 inhabitants during its mid-70s peak. Today there are around 25, and leadership has passed on to one of its founder’s 22 children, Oba Adejuyigbe Adefunmi II.
Tourists are welcome to stop by the village, which sits about 50 miles outside of Charleston, near Sheldon, South Carolina. Its atmosphere of inclusiveness and cultural education stands in stark contrast to the recent church shooting and the intense fallout that resulted nearby. By all accounts, Oyotunji is not just a place to live, but a way of life: Its inhabitants construct temples to the pantheon of spirits called Orishas and pray to them every day. Curious about the life and perspectives of these traditionalist back-to-the-landers, I traveled to Sheldon, South Carolina, to learn a bit about Yoruba culture and gain some insight into Southern life in 2015. This is what they said:

Continued below.

Akintobe: I heard about it in Germany. I saw a little article in the military newspaper about a voodoo village in Beaufort [County], South Carolina, and it showed the king sitting on a throne that perhaps he made himself. I cut that picture out and placed it above my bed, and that’s where it stayed until I left, 30 months later. I don’t know why I did it. I was compelled by a spiritual force that I couldn’t resist. And I came here in December of ’74.

Ofalaya: I met the Oba in 2003 in Key West, Florida, when he was a prince. He came to Key West to declare one of the beaches there an African burial ground. And I met him there. And I did some volunteering at the African museum in Key West that he helped start. My sister’s a Shango priest, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with the culture.

Oba Adejuyigbe Adefunmi II : I was born in Oyotunji in 1976, right here on the property during a storm. And the house blew over. I remember my dad telling me the story. And he came over there to rush and see if my mother was OK, and he said she came crawling out holding me from under some boards.

Olpeju

Olapeju: It’s not so much a religion as it is a culture or a lifestyle. We’re here to honor our ancestors. That means I honor yours. That means you honor mine. It’s a different dynamic than just going to church on Sunday and praying.

Akintobe: This is not part-time. Full-time. Twenty-five hours, daily. Sleeping, wake up, it’s part of you. Go to bed saying certain things, wake up saying certain things. God, God. To the Orishas, to the ancestors, daily. All day long. Praising. Giving thanks.

Ofalaya: After you go through your initiation, you spend three weeks with your Iyalosa. She would be your godparent who helps you go through the transition of becoming initiated, becoming a priest or a priestess. You have your physical parent or your biological parent, and then you have your spiritual parents. One of the Orisha will be your father and one of them will be your mother.

I have done things that I never thought I would ever do. Like chopping wood, and not using a cell phone.

You get up at 5 AM and spend your time with yourself, really. Because after that, until the time you go to bed, your time belongs to everyone, and whatever needs to be done in the nation. The farming is a big thing that we work together on. Someone weeds, someone waters, someone plants.

o2Olapeju: I have a job outside, so I also have to take into account my work schedule. But I assist with the raking.

Olayatan: Tours come. They invite us out for lectures and presentations. We do cultural events. We have priests who do consultations for people. They read them and give them counseling.

Akintobe: I’m a priest. I’ve been initiated into the secret mysteries of Obatala, who is my father. That was 1978. And then I went to the high priest of Ifa in West Africa in 1992. And I went back again in 2000 to finish it up. So I’m Babaaláwo, “father of secrets.”

HOW OYOTUNJI WAS FOUNDED

kingOba: My dad, he was born in ’28. He was about 41, 42 [when Oyotunji was built.] He had two temples in New York, and he was the first African American to tell black people that, Look, not only are you African, you have a culture and a religion, and here it is.

He said he was nothing until he ran into African culture. He was bumping in the dark.

Akintobe: He was a man who loved art; he was a commercial artist. And he was a dancer with the Katherine Dunham dance troupe. That’s when he toured Egypt and Cuba, and that’s when he really got into African culture. His mother and father came up under Marcus Garvey, so he came up early.5

Oba: He married a European woman, a Dutch woman in Greenwich Village. It was with [her] that he became radicalized as this African traditionalist. And he said it was because he noticed she had a culture: They had holidays and pageantry and all these sorts of things, and my dad was very interested in it.

And he asked her one time, and she said, “You don’t have a culture. You don’t have a religion. Because you have not been taught it.” And she opened him up. And she introduced him to a black nationalist, Harvey. And Harvey started taking him from Greenwich Village to Harlem, and that’s when it all started. He got fired up at those rallies and speeches. Malcolm X and Stokely Carmichael and Martin Luther King.

He said, “We’ve got to get out of the city. We’ve got to do like they’re doing in Africa. If we’re nationalists, we’ve got to have a land, at least.” And so he started to design it. They chipped in and bought this property here for about $500. They began to build temples and institutions first. This is back in the 60s.an-oral-history-of-the-west-african-village-that-has-been-in-south-carolina-for-four-dec0

Akintobe: We didn’t have any electricity, we didn’t have any indoor plumbing. [This was] back in the 70s to ’85. We were so into studying, the initiations, learning as much as we could get our hands on, and trying to absorb and prepare ourselves as custodians of the culture. This place was like a university.

Olayatan: Kerosene lamps, outhouses. Wood stoves for cooking and heating. I loved the energy then. And I love the energy now, but it’s—that’s the way it was then.o3Olapeju

Oba: The early people who came here were not builders. They were PhDs and doctors and stuff. So they were building [houses] out of cover sheets and pallets. Not that you can’t build out of pallets, but you’ve got to do it right. And so the houses leaked, and they got blown over by storms.

Watch: ‘Triple Hate,’ our documentary on the KKK

Olayatan: Technology came in. We got electricity. We got running water. But somewhere between Nixon and Reagan, somewhere in there was a kind of turnaround. The economy started getting tougher. Folks were struggling for money. Then the oracle says, OK, things are going to get really tough. And we didn’t know what it meant at that time, but [he was predicting] the onslaught of drugs and crime in the city.

So he says, “OK, the priests have to go out and form other communities like this.” So [since the 80s,] they have [established] shrines and temples in various parts of the country and priests that administer to the community. To try and let them know you can reconnect with your ancestors and your ancestors’ culture.

Oba Adejuyigbe Adefunmi II

THE NEW KINGo5

Oba: [In 2005], I was traveling across Seven Mile Bridge [in Florida] one day and I got a call from one of the elders. He said, “I’ve got to tell you something. Where are you?” I said, “I’m over the water, the best time. Going over a long bridge.” He said, “Oh, perfect.” And then he told me: “Your father passed away this morning.”

I couldn’t even hear what he was saying before my mind was racing. And I came back to Oyotunji, and I went through three months of traditional preparation for coronation. It was the second time that we had done it on North American soil. For three months, we had to wear black and be secluded in the room. And we had to serve all of the chiefs.

They would ask the spirits, How are we doing? Each day, they would check in with the divinities, with the oracle, to find out exactly what’s needed. How’s my spirit? How’s my character? And so I had to feed them and cook for them every time. Basically, they had to demean my character all the way down from whatever I had picked up in my life.

I remember the day after coronation, people were saying, “That didn’t even look like you out there!” It had really changed me.

And so I remember what I always said to myself was, I want to be able to build Oyotunji. I want to be able to build it standard, nice.

So we’ve remodeled this temple here. We did the Oshun temple down the road. We built the bathroom, the shower house, the media center. All of these buildings here, we remodeled them. Redid the palace. We redo the road twice a year. We’ve been able to just continue to just build and build and build. The only thing we didn’t redo is my house.

RACE IN THE SOUTHo6

Akintobe: That young man [Dylann Roof, the Charleston shooter] just turned 21. To have such hate. And why? Not once did he say that he was discriminated against. Nothing of that sort. [It was] something that he just felt. That he could do it, get away with it.

Can the stroke of a pen change the heart of our enemy? That’s the question I always ask. Passing a law? Taking down the Confederate flag? How do you change the heart of our enemy?

Oba: America never went into repair mode. It’s always been, put a new tablecloth on the dirty table because we’ve got guests. And over time, you’re going to smell it coming through the cloth.

After the Civil War was won, the Klan would still carry the Confederate flag. So our ancestors got used to seeing the Confederate flag not as a symbol of culture and heritage. Fuck no. They rode in and burned your house down. That was your visual. If they came in and grew gardens to help poor black people, it’d be a different thing. But they didn’t. It was always segregation.

If you steal a person’s culture, then you stole the most precious thing that they have. –Olayatan

WHY CULTURE MATTERS

Olayatan: It’s important for us as Africans in America to know who we are, so we can know what we have brought to the world, and what we can bring to the world in the future.

If you steal a person’s culture, then you stole the most precious thing that they have. Because that culture talks about history, contribution, and all of those things that we as a species stick our chests out about. What my people have done. What my ancestors have done. And basically, Africans in America have been told, You ain’t done nothing. You ain’t nothing, you ain’t done nothing, you’re not gonna do nothing. Because you never did anything. And so many of our people have bought into that. And that’s a tragedy and it’s a sickness.

Oba: Europeans have to know this culture, especially in America. You’re talking about healing. Taking the flag down and all these superficial things are not healing. Understanding each other’s culture is healing.

Akintobe: Oyotunji is the solution. Something was missing, but I found it here. When you know thyself, nobody can say anything to you. Once you know thyself, if you know your historical past, your ancestral past, what your people were, what they did before captivity… You walk with your shoulders and your head high. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about and everything to be proud of. Everything.

Christopher Kilbourn is a freelancer in New Orleans. Follow him on Twitter.

Topics: Oyotunji, South Carolina, Yoruba, Oba Oseijeman Adefunmi, Sheldon, ancestor worship, religion, black separatists, Charleston shooting

COMING TO OYOTUNJI

Olayatan: I came for a two-week visit on August 6, 1978. So I guess that’s coming up on 37 years.

Olapeju, wife of the king: It’s been about a year [since I moved here]. My aunt was married to the first kabiyesi (“king”—literally, “the one who no one opposes”), so my family’s been familiar with the culture for a while. I started coming down with her a couple years back, and I fell in love with the culture, my daughter fell in love with the culture. So we decided last year to go ahead and make the plunge. I don’t know if I’ll be here forever, but I definitely am enjoying the time that I’m here right now.

Akintobe: I heard about it in Germany. I saw a little article in the military newspaper about a voodoo village in Beaufort [County], South Carolina, and it showed the king sitting on a throne that perhaps he made himself. I cut that picture out and placed it above my bed, and that’s where it stayed until I left, 30 months later. I don’t know why I did it. I was compelled by a spiritual force that I couldn’t resist. And I came here in December of ’74.

Ofalaya: I met the Oba in 2003 in Key West, Florida, when he was a prince. He came to Key West to declare one of the beaches there an African burial ground. And I met him there. And I did some volunteering at the African museum in Key West that he helped start. My sister’s a Shango priest, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with the culture.

Oba Adejuyigbe Adefunmi II : I was born in Oyotunji in 1976, right here on the property during a storm. And the house blew over. I remember my dad telling me the story. And he came over there to rush and see if my mother was OK, and he said she came crawling out holding me from under some boards.

Olapejuo3

Olapeju: It’s not so much a religion as it is a culture or a lifestyle. We’re here to honor our ancestors. That means I honor yours. That means you honor mine. It’s a different dynamic than just going to church on Sunday and praying.

Akintobe: This is not part-time. Full-time. Twenty-five hours, daily. Sleeping, wake up, it’s part of you. Go to bed saying certain things, wake up saying certain things. God, God. To the Orishas, to the ancestors, daily. All day long. Praising. Giving thanks.

Ofalaya: After you go through your initiation, you spend three weeks with your Iyalosa. She would be your godparent who helps you go through the transition of becoming initiated, becoming a priest or a priestess. You have your physical parent or your biological parent, and then you have your spiritual parents. One of the Orisha will be your father and one of them will be your mother.

I have done things that I never thought I would ever do. Like chopping wood, and not using a cell phone.

You get up at 5 AM and spend your time with yourself, really. Because after that, until the time you go to bed, your time belongs to everyone, and whatever needs to be done in the nation. The farming is a big thing that we work together on. Someone weeds, someone waters, someone plants.

Olapeju: I have a job outside, so I also have to take into account my work schedule. But I assist with the raking.

Olayatan: Tours come. They invite us out for lectures and presentations. We do cultural events. We have priests who do consultations for people. They read them and give them counseling.

Akintobe: I’m a priest. I’ve been initiated into the secret mysteries of Obatala, who is my father. That was 1978. And then I went to the high priest of Ifa in West Africa in 1992. And I went back again in 2000 to finish it up. So I’m Babaaláwo, “father of secrets.”

HOW OYOTUNJI WAS FOUNDED

Oba: My dad, he was born in ’28. He was about 41, 42 [when Oyotunji was built.] He had two temples in New York, and he was the first African American to tell black people that, Look, not only are you African, you have a culture and a religion, and here it is.

He said he was nothing until he ran into African culture. He was bumping in the dark.

Akintobe: He was a man who loved art; he was a commercial artist. And he was a dancer with the Katherine Dunham dance troupe. That’s when he toured Egypt and Cuba, and that’s when he really got into African culture. His mother and father came up under Marcus Garvey, so he came up early.

Oba: He married a European woman, a Dutch woman in Greenwich Village. It was with [her] that he became radicalized as this African traditionalist. And he said it was because he noticed she had a culture: They had holidays and pageantry and all these sorts of things, and my dad was very interested in it.

And he asked her one time, and she said, “You don’t have a culture. You don’t have a religion. Because you have not been taught it.” And she opened him up. And she introduced him to a black nationalist, Harvey. And Harvey started taking him from Greenwich Village to Harlem, and that’s when it all started. He got fired up at those rallies and speeches. Malcolm X and Stokely Carmichael and Martin Luther King.

He said, “We’ve got to get out of the city. We’ve got to do like they’re doing in Africa. If we’re nationalists, we’ve got to have a land, at least.” And so he started to design it. They chipped in and bought this property here for about $500. They began to build temples and institutions first. This is back in the 60s.

Akintobe: We didn’t have any electricity, we didn’t have any indoor plumbing. [This was] back in the 70s to ’85. We were so into studying, the initiations, learning as much as we could get our hands on, and trying to absorb and prepare ourselves as custodians of the culture. This place was like a university.

Olayatan: Kerosene lamps, outhouses. Wood stoves for cooking and heating. I loved the energy then. And I love the energy now, but it’s—that’s the way it was then.

Oba: The early people who came here were not builders. They were PhDs and doctors and stuff. So they were building [houses] out of cover sheets and pallets. Not that you can’t build out of pallets, but you’ve got to do it right. And so the houses leaked, and they got blown over by storms.

 

Olayatan: Technology came in. We got electricity. We got running water. But somewhere between Nixon and Reagan, somewhere in there was a kind of turnaround. The economy started getting tougher. Folks were struggling for money. Then the oracle says, OK, things are going to get really tough. And we didn’t know what it meant at that time, but [he was predicting] the onslaught of drugs and crime in the city.

So he says, “OK, the priests have to go out and form other communities like this.” So [since the 80s,] they have [established] shrines and temples in various parts of the country and priests that administer to the community. To try and let them know you can reconnect with your ancestors and your ancestors’ culture.

Oba Adejuyigbe Adefunmi II

THE NEW KING

Oba: [In 2005], I was traveling across Seven Mile Bridge [in Florida] one day and I got a call from one of the elders. He said, “I’ve got to tell you something. Where are you?” I said, “I’m over the water, the best time. Going over a long bridge.” He said, “Oh, perfect.” And then he told me: “Your father passed away this morning.”

I couldn’t even hear what he was saying before my mind was racing. And I came back to Oyotunji, and I went through three months of traditional preparation for coronation. It was the second time that we had done it on North American soil. For three months, we had to wear black and be secluded in the room. And we had to serve all of the chiefs.

They would ask the spirits, How are we doing? Each day, they would check in with the divinities, with the oracle, to find out exactly what’s needed. How’s my spirit? How’s my character? And so I had to feed them and cook for them every time. Basically, they had to demean my character all the way down from whatever I had picked up in my life.

I remember the day after coronation, people were saying, “That didn’t even look like you out there!” It had really changed me.

And so I remember what I always said to myself was, I want to be able to build Oyotunji. I want to be able to build it standard, nice.

So we’ve remodeled this temple here. We did the Oshun temple down the road. We built the bathroom, the shower house, the media center. All of these buildings here, we remodeled them. Redid the palace. We redo the road twice a year. We’ve been able to just continue to just build and build and build. The only thing we didn’t redo is my house.

RACE IN THE SOUTH

Akintobe: That young man [Dylann Roof, the Charleston shooter] just turned 21. To have such hate. And why? Not once did he say that he was discriminated against. Nothing of that sort. [It was] something that he just felt. That he could do it, get away with it.

Can the stroke of a pen change the heart of our enemy? That’s the question I always ask. Passing a law? Taking down the Confederate flag? How do you change the heart of our enemy?

Oba: America never went into repair mode. It’s always been, put a new tablecloth on the dirty table because we’ve got guests. And over time, you’re going to smell it coming through the cloth.

After the Civil War was won, the Klan would still carry the Confederate flag. So our ancestors got used to seeing the Confederate flag not as a symbol of culture and heritage. Fuck no. They rode in and burned your house down. That was your visual. If they came in and grew gardens to help poor black people, it’d be a different thing. But they didn’t. It was always segregation.

If you steal a person’s culture, then you stole the most precious thing that they have. –Olayatan

WHY CULTURE MATTERS

Olayatan: It’s important for us as Africans in America to know who we are, so we can know what we have brought to the world, and what we can bring to the world in the future.

If you steal a person’s culture, then you stole the most precious thing that they have. Because that culture talks about history, contribution, and all of those things that we as a species stick our chests out about. What my people have done. What my ancestors have done. And basically, Africans in America have been told, You ain’t done nothing. You ain’t nothing, you ain’t done nothing, you’re not gonna do nothing. Because you never did anything. And so many of our people have bought into that. And that’s a tragedy and it’s a sickness.

Oba: Europeans have to know this culture, especially in America. You’re talking about healing. Taking the flag down and all these superficial things are not healing. Understanding each other’s culture is healing.

Akintobe: Oyotunji is the solution. Something was missing, but I found it here. When you know thyself, nobody can say anything to you. Once you know thyself, if you know your historical past, your ancestral past, what your people were, what they did before captivity… You walk with your shoulders and your head high. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about and everything to be proud of. Everything.

Christopher Kilbourn is a freelancer in New Orleans. Follow him on Twitter.
Topics: Oyotunji, South Carolina, Yoruba, Oba Oseijemoyotunji

BLACK SELF-DEFENSE! -MARCUS GARVEY,MALCOLM X SAID IT!-BLACKS FIGHT BACK!-FROM SLATE.COM

March 9, 2015

from slate.com

In 1919, white Americans visited awful violence on black Americans. So black Americans decided to fight back.

Red Summer

African-Americans gathered on street corners in the riot zone to share news and to form self-defense forces.

Men outside of the office of black Chicago businessman Jesse Binga, summer of 1919. “During Chicago’s riot,” writes David Krugler, “African-Americans gathered on street corners in the riot zone to share news and to form self-defense forces.”

Photo by Jun Fujita. Courtesy of the Chicago History Museum (ICHi-65481).

In Longview, Texas, in July 1919, S.L. Jones, who was a teacher and a local distributor of the black newspaper the Chicago Defender, investigated the suspicious death of Lemuel Walters. Walters was a black man who was accused of raping a white woman, jailed, and ultimately found dead under “mysterious” circumstances. When the Defender published a story about Walters’ death, asserting that the alleged rape had been a love affair and Walters’ death the result of a lynching, Jones came under attack, beaten by the woman’s brothers.

Rebecca Onion Rebecca Onion

Rebecca OnionSlate’s history writer, also runs the site’s history blog, The Vault. Follow her on Twitter.

Hearing a rumor that Jones was in trouble, Dr. C.P. Davis, a black physician and friend of the teacher, tried to get law enforcement to protect him from further violence. When it became clear that this help was not forthcoming, Davis organized two-dozen black volunteers to guard Jones’ house. That same night, a mob surrounded the dwelling. Four armed white men knocked on the door, then tried to ram it down. The black defenders, who were arranged around Jones’ property, opened fire. A half-hour gun battle ensued, in which several attackers were wounded; the posse retreated.

Hearing the town’s fire bell ringing to summon reinforcements, Jones and Davis went into hiding, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves against a larger mob. Davis borrowed a soldier’s uniform, put it on, and took the first of several trains out of the area. At one point, he asked a group of black soldiers he found in a train car to conceal him in their ranks, which they did, contributing to his disguise by giving him an overseas cap and a gas mask. Later that day, Jones also managed to escape. But their successful resistance and flight were bittersweet victories: Before the episode was over, Davis’ and Jones’ homes were burned, along with Davis’ medical practice and the meeting place of the town’s Negro Business Men’s League. Davis’ father-in-law was killed in the violence.

In his new book, 1919, The Year of Racial Violence: How African Americans Fought Back, David F. Krugler, professor of history at the University of Wisconsin–Platteville, looks at the actions of people like Jones and Davis, who resisted white incursions against the black community through the press, the courts, and armed defensive action. The year 1919 was a notable one for racial violence, with major episodes of unrest in Chicago; Washington; and Elaine, Arkansas, and many smaller clashes in both the North and the South. (James Weldon Johnson, then the field secretary of the NAACP, called this time of violence the “Red Summer.”) White mobs killed 77 black Americans, including 11 demobilized servicemen (according to the NAACP’s magazine, the Crisis). The property damage to black businesses and homes—attacks on which betrayed white anxiety over new levels of black prosperity and social power—was immense.

The history of black responses to the violence of 1919—which ranged from the use of a single weapon against a home invader, to the organization of defensive posses like Davis’ that were meant to protect potential victims of lynching, to the deployment of groups of men who patrolled city streets during unrest—makes it clear that armed self-defense, far from being an invention of Malcolm X and the Black Power movement, is a strategy with deep roots. As we celebrate the 50th anniversary of the civil rights movement, the story of nonviolence—a beautiful strategy with uncontestable moral force—has taken center stage. However the story of active self-defense against violence—a tradition that developed before, and then alongside, nonviolent resistance—is too often dismissed or simply ignored. Even before slavery had been outlawed, black Americans took up arms when their lives and livelihoods were threatened. Their experiences make the familiar history of marches and peaceful protest more complex. But the story of the civil rights struggle is incomplete without them.

Why was there a spike in violence in 1919? Krugler argues that black service members’ experience in World War I was one of the catalysts. In many places, demobilized black veterans, having fought for their country, had a diminished tolerance for racial discrimination—and their families, having sacrificed on the homefront, felt the same way. Meanwhile, white civilians resented what they perceived as an excess of pride (what an Army captain, registering his concern with the Military Intelligence Division, called “social aspirations”) in those who had served. Servicemen were allowed to wear their uniforms for three months after being “demobbed.” Georgian Wilbur Little was lynched in April 1919, reportedly for the sin of wearing his after the cutoff date—a crime that suggests how much the vision of black men in uniform threatened the racial regime.

The black community’s defensive actions in response to racial violence were also shaped by the war. Veterans took the initiative in armed self-defense, using their combat experience and knowledge of tactics and organization. But communities around them—many of whom had worked for the war effort in civilian capacities—were also energized by their wartime experiences and by the presence of the returned service members. (C.P. Davis and S.L. Jones were not veterans, but they were affected by the prevailing climate nonetheless. Davis’ escape took advantage of the cover provided by his borrowed uniform and relied on solidarity from black soldiers who were willing to vouch for him.)

Meanwhile, writers and journalists in the black press—some of whom had served—turned out prose that was increasingly bold, calling for armament and self-defense, and shaping the image of what came to be called the New Negro. That year, poet Claude McKay published his sonnet “If We Must Die” in the socialist magazine the Liberator:

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

Activists followed these calls for resistance with attempts to work within the legal system to defend those who fought back. After each episode of violence, the NAACP took new legal initiative in prosecuting white rioters and representing black people who had acted to defend themselves. Sometimes, as in the aftermath of the violence in Longview, Texas, NAACP lawyers were able to get prisoners who had been found with weapons released by arguing that their actions were taken in self-defense. These legal victories—though somewhat diminished by the difficulty lawyers had in landing convictions of white rioters—were nonetheless significant.

While there is a notable cluster of examples of black communities fighting back in the racial conflicts of 1919, the history of armed self-defense goes back even further. Law professor Nicholas Johnson points to fugitive slaves who armed themselves against slave-catchers as some of the earliest examples of the practice. In another dark period of racial violence at the end of the 19th century, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, a journalist and investigator of lynching, advocated “boycott, emigration, and the press” as weapons against white aggression, outlining the rationale in her 1892 pamphlet Southern Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases. When those peaceful strategies failed, Wells-Barnett thought a more active strategy was the answer, observing: “The only times an Afro-American who was assaulted got away has been when he had a gun and used it in self-defense.” For this reason, she wrote, “[A] Winchester rifle should have a place of honor in every black home, and it should be used for that protection which the law refuses to give.”

Some citizens caught up in racial violence at the turn of the 20th century shared Wells-Barnett’s philosophy. Krugler cites instances of self-defense in turn-of-the-century racial strife in Wilmington, North Carolina, in 1898; Evansville, Indiana, in 1903; Atlanta in 1906; and Springfield, Illinois, in 1908. In Evansville, Krugler writes, “[A]pproximately thirty black men assembled to drive away white vigilantes attempting to break into the county jail to lynch a black prisoner.” In Springfield, “[B]lack snipers fired on white rioters from a saloon window, and twelve armed black men formed a patrol and fired on members of a mob leaving the site of one attack.”

Members of a white mob run with bricks in hand, during the Chicago race riot of July and August, 1919.
Members of a white mob run with bricks in hand during the Chicago race riot of July and August 1919.

Photo by Jun Fujita. Courtesy of the Chicago History Museum (ICHi-65495).

In his research on the unrest of 1919, Krugler found evidence of self-defense that was both highly coordinated and ad hoc. “In Chicago,” he told me, “we have examples of individual stockyard workers who go to work, are attacked, and turn and fight. That’s not premeditated; that’s a human response to a life-threatening danger and risk—but it still counts as self-defense.” Also during the unrest in Chicago, “The veterans of the 8th Regiment put on their uniforms, found weapons, and took to the streets to try to stop the mob violence”—a preplanned action that took advantage of their military training and status in the community.

One of the problems with writing a history of armed self-defense during episodes of racial violence lies in establishing what actually happened. The events are obscured by the motivations of the authors of many of the historical sources, as well as the simple fog of war—these conflicts were complex events unfolding, in some cases, over many city blocks. Krugler triangulates between sources, looking at black and white newspapers, records of the tribunals held after some of the riots, and the reports of investigators from the Military Intelligence Division and the Bureau of Investigation (as the FBI was called in its first two decades of operation).

Comparing-and-contrasting these sources, as Krugler does in a section on the Chicago unrest called “The Fictional Riot,” shows how self-defense could look very different depending on the point of view of the witness. The soldiers from the 8th Regiment, who, black onlookers reported, instilled a sense of calm in the community merely by their presence, showed up very differently in the Chicago Daily News’ coverage. One detachment of veterans was described as “a group of twelve discharged negro soldiers, all armed,” who had “terrorized small groups of whites in various parts of the south side all afternoon.” The Herald-Examiner reported that several thousand decommissioned members of the 8th Regiment had stormed the regiment’s armory, wounding more than 50 people as they seized weapons. “Black Chicagoans, menaced by gangs and mistreated by the police, now [confronted] a white-written narrative about the riot that cast them as the wrongdoers,” Krugler writes. This was one of the drawbacks of self-defense, which, in a racist society, put those who resisted in perilous positions, vulnerable to further violence and legal prosecution.

GABOUREY SIDIBE-OUR BLACK SKINNED BEAUTY ON BEING CONFIDENT About her weight!

February 20, 2013

BLACK BEAUTY MEETS BLACK BEAUTY!

BLACK BEAUTY MEETS BLACK BEAUTY!

Gabourey Sidibe On Being Confident With Her Weight: ‘I get shaken a lot in this business’

WhіƖe the crіtіcs are bashіng femaƖe ceƖebrіtіes about theіr bodіes, gabourey sіdіbe іs the most recent kіck-ass femaƖe іn the spotƖіght to not Ɩet the crіtіcs wіn.

Speakіng at wіe, the women’s іnspіratіon and enterprіse [wіenetwork. Org] conference іn manhattan Ɩast weekend, sіdіbe spoke about beіng happy and body confіdent, somethіng she mastered іn her earƖy 20s:

“і dіdn’t actuaƖƖy get to grow up hearіng that і was beautіfuƖ a Ɩot, or that і was worth anythіng nor dіd і grow up seeіng myseƖf on tv. Then at some poіnt іn tіme when і was 21 or 22 і јust decіsіve that Ɩіfe wasn’t worth Ɩіvіng whether or not і wasn’t happy wіth myseƖf so і јust took aƖƖ the steps that і couƖd to estіmate how to Ɩove myseƖf and become confіdent. Truth fuƖƖy speakіng whether or not і hadn’t found thіs person before that movіe [precіous] і wouƖdn’t have even be іn that movіe”, says sіdіbe.

WhіƖe the 29-year-oƖd treasured star takes every day steps to buіƖd up her confіdence, whіch іncƖudes smaƖƖ thіngs from Ɩіstenіng to musіc that makes her happy and gettіng her naіƖs done, to gettіng advіce from oprah and countіng her bƖessіngs, she admіts that Ɩіke most peopƖe іt’s a every day exercіse and an actіve choіce to be happy.

“peopƖe see me as a confіdent person but і get shaken a Ɩot, specіaƖƖy beіng іn thіs busіness. More than one weeks ago і was on vacatіon and і went іnto a cvs [a pharmacy chaіn of shops іn the us] and as і’m payіng і see a pіcture of myseƖf on the cover of a magazіne and they’re guesstіmatіng what my weіght іs? The headƖіne was ‘gabourey sіdіbe 250 pounds’”, says the actress. In that moment she had to deaƖ wіth not onƖy the cashіer seeіng the horrіbƖe and іnaccurate artіcƖe, but as weƖƖ everyone eƖse іn the shop and іn other shops.

SadƖy, іt’s a taƖe that countƖess other women іn the іndustry face. The debate about how much a femaƖe ceƖebrіty weіghs іs wіthout varіatіon anaƖysed іn the medіa, wіth thіngs comіng to a head when Ɩady gaga strіpped to her undіes and Ɩaunched her body revoƖutіon crusade to get back at crіtіcs who sƖammed her weіght benefіt.

For sіdіbe, іt’s aƖƖ about creatіng your own ruƖes: “і have to keep goіng and Ɩіvіng my Ɩіfe, so when thіngs Ɩіke that troubƖe me і have to fіnd thіngs that buіƖd my confіdence back up”, says sіdіbe, who as weƖƖ hopes to begіn wrіtіng and workіng behіnd the camera to enhance the range of coƖours, shapes and sіzes we see on the screen, and “because і don’t want to waіt for work і want to make work”, she adds.


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