Today’s video of the day comes from Tavis Smiley’s 2006 State of the Black Union event. In this clip, The Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan basically disses Smiley’s “Covenant With Black America” as naive and misguided. Although I do not agree entirely with Farrakhan’s analysis –he is far too conservative and reliant on a rugged individualism that amounts to a rejection, as Robin Kelley has said, of our fundamental rights and entitlements as American citizens– I applaud his courage to speak his version of the truth in front of Tavis Smiley, Cornel West, and a host of other elite Black public figures. Unfortunately, many people have dismissed his statements and dramatic exit as grandstanding (which it was!) without acknowledging the importance of his commentary.

Lord I’ve really been real stressed
Down and out, losin ground
Although I am black and proud
Problems got me pessimistic
Brothers and sisters keep messin up
Why does it have to be so damn tuff?
I don’t know where I can go
To let these ghosts out of my skull
My grandma passed, my brother’s gone
I never at once felt so alone
I know you’re supposed to be my steering wheel
Not just my spare tire (home)
But lord I ask you (home)
To be my guiding force and truth (home)
For some strange reason it had to be (home)
He guided me to Tennessee (home)

Take me to another place
Take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me
Let me understand your plan

Lord it’s obvious we got a relationship
Talkin to each other every night and day
Although you’re superior over me
We talk to each other in a friendship way
Then outta nowhere you tell me to break
Outta the country and into more country
Past Dyesburg into Ripley
Where the ghost of childhood haunts me
Walk the roads my forefathers walked
Climbed the trees my forefathers hung from
Ask those trees for all their wisdom
They tell me my ears are so young (home)
Go back to from whence you came (home)
My family tree, my family name (home)
For some strange reason it had to be (home)
He guided me to Tennessee (home)

Now I see the importance of history
Why people be in the mess that they be
Many journeys to freedom made in vain
My brothers on the corner playin ghetto games
I ask you lord why you enlightened me
Without the enlightenment of all my folks
He said cuz I set myself on a quest for truth
And he was there to quench my thirst
But I am still thirsty…
The lord allowed me to drink some more
He said what I am searchin for are
The answers to all which are in front of me
The ultimate truth started to get blurry
For some strange reason it had to be
It was all a dream about Tennessee

“Arrested Development” – Tennessee

Yesterday, I received a flurry of e-mails asking why I hadn’t posted any commentary about the tragic murder of Sean Bell at the hands of undercover New York police officers.

To be honest, I just didn’t have anything to say.

Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty of thoughts about the incident. How could I not recognize the absurdity of 50 shots being directed at three unarmed Black men? How could I not identify the outright lie that police brutality had followed Rudy Giuliani out of office? How could I not see that this shooting was a public declaration about the emptiness of Black life?

Despite these thoughts, and countless others, I simply couldn’t muster the energy or power to say or write anything. Instead, I did the only thing that I was able to do.

I cried.

The thing is, I didn’t cry because of the absurdity of 50 rounds of unreturned gunfire being shot at three unarmed men as they were driving away. After all, this isn’t the first time that the police have used Black bodies for target practice. I didn’t even cry because Bell was murdered hours before his wedding. In fact, I find the whole “he was one of the good ones” conversation disturbing and counter-productive. Should we not be equally outraged if he were unemployed or homeless?

Upon hearing the news, I cried for a much simpler reason: I’m tired of Black people dying.

In spite of all of the protests, marches, speeches, books, articles, and legislation, Black people are still dying from poverty, drugs, violence, and preventable diseases. Even worse, very little about the world suggests that anyone cares. Although I refuse to believe that our efforts are worthless, I’m nonetheless struck by a deep and nagging pessimism of the intellect that clashes with the dogged optimism of my will. Most days, the optimism wins out. Yesterday, it didn’t… It couldn’t.

And so I cried.

I cried because another Black life was lost for no good reason. I cried because a wife lost her husband and a daughter lost her father. I cried because I knew that Sean was merely a proxy for millions of Black men whose very existence demands the use of deadly force. Most of all, I cried because there was nothing that I could do about any of it.

But that was yesterday. Today, I refuse to remain prisoner to this or any other event. Today, I choose to be different. Today, I will help to fight (and write) back. Today I will be neither helpless nor hopeless. Today, I know we will win.

2006 continues to be a very tough year for Black geniuses. Yesterday, best-selling author Bebe Moore Campbell died of complications from brain cancer.

In her groundbreaking novels, Campbell, discussed critical yet sensitive issues in the Black community, such as racism, poverty, and mental illness. Her detailed characters and complicated narratives have earned her comparisons to literary legends Edith Wharton and Anton Checkhov.

In addition to her books, Campbell’s journalism appeared in the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, Ebony magazine and elsewhere.

Born Elizabeth Bebe Moore in Philadelphia, she received a bachelor’s degree in elementary education from the University of Pittsburgh before she began a career as a schoolteacher. She married Tiko Campbell. The couple settled in Washington, D.C., and had a daughter, Maia Campbell, before the marriage ended in divorce. Campbell later married Ellis Gordon Jr., and they settled in Los Angeles. They had one son, Ellis Gordon III.
She was 56-years -old.
Contributions in her name can be made to the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill at NAMI Urban Los Angeles, 4305 Degnan Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90008; or to the United Negro College Fund, 8260 Willow Oaks Corporate Park Drive, P.O. Box 10444, Fairfax, VA 22031.

May she forever rest in peace.

Now explain your choice!!!