BEHIND THE MUSIC
For centuries black newborns have made up roughly 15.7% of all births in the U.S. It is astonishing how a joyous delivery can be fueled with such merciful mourning. The ugly truth is, its nearly impossible to separate the birth day bliss of a black child, without weeping at the historical horror that awaits them. There is a deep subconscious feeling that cutting a black child’s umbilical cord is simultaneously igniting a fuse tied to an explosive. Naturally the newborn isn’t aware of when, why or how this explosive got attached to their innocent, infant frame. But, like clockwork, one day the child will be [acutely] aware that it’s there. And the only thing worse than not knowing how a bomb got there, is not knowing when it will detonate. The only constant with black American babies is: “the talk” that every black household should have about walking gingerly through the U.S. streets. After all, you’ll never know what will provoke the deranged assembler.
On June 5, 1993, in Grand Rapids, Michigan, a beautiful, chocolate baby girl named Breonna Taylor entered the world. And just like that, a mere 312 months later, Breonna’s bomb exploded and the 26-year-old young lady was dead. Her only crime was being born black in America.
Breonna didn’t stand a chance because, from birth, her scripted fate was sealed. Like so many others that resemble Breonna, this “random bomb” will eventually explode, and like clockwork the black survivors will take to the streets to protest the injustice.
Yeah, we will march up & down the bloody streets, dancing
around the blue uniforms that triggered the protest. On some special occasions, we may even burn some
sh_t down. The hope is that one day this
450-year-old exercise will change the hearts and the minds of the society that
rewards the bomb’s designer.
Breonna Taylor wasn’t unlike any other 26-year-old. She often shared her stream of consciousness on the millennial digest, Facebook. One of the many posts from the budding
EMT worker was describing her love for helping others.
“Working in
health care is so rewarding! It makes me so happy when I know I’ve made a
difference in someone else’s life!”
-- Breonna Taylor
Had Breonna lived a bit longer, her youthful optimism would have
been "greeted" by four centuries of systematic hate. In fact, these tsunami of troubles are often
pacified with a dangling carrot of illusive justice. For example there is some delusional reason
this historically disfranchised black community is pinning their (new) hopes on a
77-year-old pale, white Joe Biden..., and a half-black, Kamala Devi (feel free to
add the missing L) Harris, as the ticket to salvation. You can almost feel Breonna – who only lived
long enough to vote in 2 primary elections—tumbling in her soiled soil.
Like a season full of hurricanes, we are running out of names to
describe this reign of terror that is devastating the black community: slavery, Jim
Crow, redlining, discrimination, xenophobia, racial profiling, willful neglect,
inequality, or just good 'ole fashioned hatred. No matter how you slice this sea of sorrow,
the only real way to achieve true salvation, will be to change the way you
fight the powers that be.
Well, two decades before Breonna’s umbilical cord was cut, there was a 19-year-old budding artist that was two thousand miles west of Grand Rapids; fiddling with the cords of a new single called “So Blue”. Growing frustrated with the artist’s “secret session,” a label executive summoned two oddball gophers to expedite the delivery of the long-waited recording. Lenny Waronker and Russ Thyret packed their bags and headed west to finally hear the brilliant song. Captivated by the song, the "enforcers" wanted the artist to add a bass line to the single. The artist snapped back..., “There is no f-ing bass line, now get the F@!# out of my studio!” It should be noted the record label that paid for Lenny and Russ to check on the artist’s progress, was also paying for the (now) not-so-sercet studio session.
On April 7, 1978, “So Blue” became the 8th single on a 9-song debut LP. The freshman album was called For You, on Warner Bros. Records, by a 20-year-old named, Prince Rogers Nelson.
There is a statue waiting to be sculpted for a man like Prince; who fought to his death to change the way black newborns navigated through life in AmeriKKKa. There is absolutely no way to sum up Prince’s contribution to how much Black Lives actually Matter-ed to him. In fact, most of his contributions were behind his music. There are people right now in Oakland (as we speak), that are living under solar-paneled roofs that Prince quietly paid for. Ready for more of Prince's Purple Heart?
After getting diagnosed with cancer, the legendary JB’s drummer, Clyde Stubblefield racked up $90,000 worth of hospital bills. Prince somehow found out about Clyde's illness, called the hospital room that Clyde was in, and sent his wife a check for $80,000. The Stubblefield family didn’t even know that Prince was aware of the hospital stay. And when Lauryn Hill went to jail Prince wrote a check
So…, if you ever want Black Lives to really Matter…, we need to cut this noose that is masked as an umbilical cord and pay attention to the Sign of the Times.
1 ❤
Ray Lewis
1 comment:
How appropriate! This album not only fits the current climate, but it speaks volumes to the call we should all be heading. Prince (if you'll allow me to call him by that name) was light years ahead of of his time, and yet so very present at the same time. True legend that will be surely missed.
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