Tag: racism

Can You Read a Person’s Soul in Five Seconds?

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Daily writing prompt
What’s the first impression you want to give people?
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When I was young, they drilled it into us: “First impressions are lasting impressions.”
Dress right, talk right, act right.
Show people the best version of yourself and they’ll treat you accordingly.

Then I stepped into the world as a Black man in America and learned the fine print they never bothered to mention:
some folks made their impressions before I even opened my mouth.
They’d look at me and decide who I was, what I was, and where I belonged.
Then came the compliments disguised as praise—“articulate”—like I’d crawled out of the woods dragging a club and a grunt.

I wish I could say that nonsense is ancient history.
That we’ve evolved past it.
But I’ve lived long enough to know you can pull down statues, rename buildings, and rewrite curriculum, and still never undo the generational damage.
When I was a kid, history class felt like a bragging session: Look what we did to these people.
The day I discovered the truth about President Lincoln—his contradictions, his motives, the myth vs. the man—I blew up in class and got tossed out.
Didn’t help my GPA, but it sure helped my clarity.

Funny thing is, I didn’t let that anger harden me.
I kept reading.
And the more I learned, the more Lincoln felt like someone I could actually respect—someone I could sit down and have coffee with, contradictions and all.

Years later, my daughter came home with a school assignment about Lincoln, and I saw my opening. I had the knowledge. I had the books. I had the truth.
But something said, Slow down.
So I asked her, “Do you want the truth, or what they teach you in school?”
She chose school.
And I understood.
The whitewashing had already reached her generation.
Her innocence was intact.
Her hope was intact.
And I wasn’t ready to be the one to crack it.

That same daughter once refused to watch movies about racism.
Hands on her hips, chin up, she said, “It isn’t like that anymore.”
A moment of pride mixed with dread.
Because I knew she was wrong—not out of foolishness, but out of youth.
I knew one day the world would show her its teeth.
And the worst part?
There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

Eventually, she came back to me with another assignment—Malcolm X this time.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
The moment she said his name, I switched on like a breaker panel.
I dragged out every book I had. I told her everything school would never teach her.
That kid didn’t lift a finger for that assignment.
I did the whole damn thing.
Yep—she played me.
I still tease her about it.

But I’d be lying if I said I don’t make snap judgments of my own.
When you’ve lived long enough, patterns get etched into you.
But every now and then, life steps in and reminds me I don’t know everything either.

Once, in Wyoming, I’d forgotten my shower kit and wandered into a general store expecting the usual sideways looks.
Instead, the woman at the register glanced at my items and said, “Honey, you forgot…”
She pointed out what I missed, sent me back for it, and checked everything again when I returned.
“Now you’re ready,” she said.
Simple kindness.
Caught me off guard.
Still makes me smile.

Another time, in Montana, a freak storm trapped us in a Chinese restaurant. Power went out, candles came on, and the kitchen kept rolling like it was nothing new.
I went to the bathroom, and an older gentleman nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me.
I said, “Hell, I’m not gonna cook you and eat you.”
Let it hang there.
He burst out laughing. We walked out with nods of mutual respect—two strangers caught in something human.

Later that same night, a man walked up to my table—me and my biracial friend—and asked, “You having fun?”
Same words, twice.
Same smile that doesn’t smile.
My friend tensed. I put a hand on him to settle him.
Storm wasn’t going anywhere.
No point making our own.

And here’s the thing:
When America talks race, everything gets framed as Black vs. White.
Two sides. One battlefield.
But history wasn’t that small.

Black folks and White folks just had better publicists.

Because while America was glued to civil rights marches on TV, every marginalized group in this country was fighting their own battles:

Asian immigrants finally broke through racist immigration quotas with the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act.
The Chicano Movement reshaped labor rights, education, and political identity.
Native activists occupied Alcatraz, formed AIM, and demanded sovereignty.
In 1969, N. Scott Momaday became the first Native American to win the Pulitzer for Fiction.
Japanese Americans were fighting for redress after internment.
Filipino farmworkers sparked the grape strike.
And the Stonewall uprising ignited the modern LGBTQ+ movement.

Everyone was fighting.
Everyone was changing the country.
But America prefers a tidy narrative.
Reality never asked for one.

So let me be clear before someone tries to twist my words:
This isn’t a Black vs. White essay.
Not even close.

Because hate?
Hate is colorblind.

It doesn’t care about race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or whatever else we invent to justify cruelty.
I learned that the hard way.

I was overseas once—a situation that turned violent fast.
Not combat the way we trained for.
Not patriotic speeches or heroic music.
Just raw hate aimed at a group of Americans who looked like the whole world shrunk into one squad.
Black, white, brown—none of it mattered.
They didn’t hate our skin.
They hated our nationality.
And they came at us like it was sport.

We came home bonded by survival, only to step back into a country where the old assumptions waited like unpaid bills.

These days, I laugh—but not because any of it is funny.
I laugh out of frustration and exhaustion.
Because sometimes that’s the only release valve a man’s got.

So first impressions…
they have their uses, I suppose.
But I’ve seen them lie, and I’ve seen them reveal the whole damn soul of a person.
Sometimes they’re nothing but noise.
Sometimes they expose the heart.
You learn to pay attention—not to the surface, but to the truth leaking around the edges.

And while folks are busy misjudging me on sight, I remind myself of one truth:

We fought to protect “God and Country.”
So if you’re out here treating me falsely,
just remember—
I defended your right to do it.

Damn, I’m good at my job.

The Tulsa Race Massacre: An In-depth Exploration of a Dark Chapter in American History.

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ARTICLE – MINI BIOGRAPHY – HISTORY

The Tulsa Race Massacre, which occurred in 1921, remains one of the most horrific instances of racial violence in American history. This tragic event, often overshadowed in the annals of history, resulted in the destruction of a prosperous Black community, fondly known as the “Black Wall Street,” in Tulsa, Oklahoma. This essay aims to delve deeper into the formation of Black Wall Street, the heart-wrenching events of the massacre, and the enduring impacts it had on the community and American society at large.

The Emergence of Black Wall Street

In the first two decades of the 20th century, the Greenwood District in Tulsa, Oklahoma, became a sanctuary for African American business growth and wealth accumulation. This was an era marked by racial segregation and the oppressive Jim Crow laws. Yet, against these odds, a thriving and vibrant community emerged in Greenwood.

The district was home to a plethora of successful businesses, including grocery stores, banks, law offices, and medical services. Elegant homes dotted the landscape, and cultural institutions like churches and schools contributed to a rich social fabric. The area soon earned the moniker “Black Wall Street,” symbolizing the economic power and prosperity of the African American community in the face of racial adversity.

The Tulsa Race Massacre

On May 31, 1921, a series of unfortunate events sparked a violent racial conflagration. A young African American shoe shiner, falsely accused of assaulting a white woman, became the catalyst that ignited racial tensions. A white mob, bolstered by individuals deputized by local law enforcement, launched a brutal attack on the Greenwood District.

Over two harrowing days, the mob pillaged the district, burning down businesses, homes, and churches. The destruction was vast and comprehensive, resulting in the obliteration of 35 city blocks. The violence took the lives of an estimated 300 African Americans, leaving thousands homeless and the community in ruins.

The Aftermath and Legacy

The aftermath of the massacre was nothing short of devastating. The once-thriving Greenwood District was reduced to ashes; its prosperity was swept away in a tidal wave of violence and hatred. Residents who had once enjoyed relative wealth and stability were left impoverished, their dreams and aspirations shattered.

In a further blow to the community, the massacre was covered up for decades. No substantial reparatory actions were taken, and the event was not included in the state’s history curriculum until 2000. The victims and their descendants were left to grapple with the emotional and economic scars of the massacre, devoid of any formal recognition or justice.

However, the dawn of the 21st century brought a renewed push for recognition and reparations. The centennial of the massacre in 2021 brought national attention to the event, sparking calls for justice, racial healing, and reparations. Archaeological investigations have also been initiated, aiming to uncover mass graves and provide a more accurate account of the massacre’s horrific toll.

Conclusion

The Tulsa Race Massacre is a painful and crucial part of America’s racial history. Its legacy serves as a stark reminder of the systemic racism that African Americans have faced and continue to face. Today, as the nation grapples with racial injustices, the story of the massacre and the destruction of the “Black Wall Street” serves as a rallying cry for equality, justice, and reparations. We must remember and learn from this dark chapter to build a more equitable and inclusive future.

Chinese Immigration Discrimination: The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882

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ARTICLE – MINI BIOGRAPHY – HISTORY

While researching the Transcontinental Railroad, I discovered the involvement of African American and Chinese immigrants in its construction. Because of the post-Civil War era, I investigated Chinese immigrant involvement further. This is when I discovered how the United States treated the Chinese people. I was taken aback because of how much American culture influences Chinese culture.

This discrimination, which started in 1882 and ended in 1965, paints a dark chapter in American history that has fortunately been rectified to some degree. Over the next few days, I will post mini-articles discussing this discrimination.

The Chinese Exclusion Act:

Enacted in 1882, the Chinese Exclusion Act stands as a stark reminder of a regrettable period in American history when xenophobia and discriminatory policies shaped immigration laws. This legislation marked the first time in the United States that a specific ethnic group was targeted and banned from entering the country, reflecting a troubling trend of prejudice and fear.

The roots of the Chinese Exclusion Act can be traced back to the mid-19th century, when Chinese immigrants arrived in significant numbers, primarily seeking economic opportunities during the California Gold Rush and later contributing to the construction of the transcontinental railroad. As their numbers increased, so did anti-Chinese sentiment among some segments of the American population.

The act, signed into law by President Chester A. Arthur, was ostensibly aimed at addressing economic concerns and protecting American jobs. It prohibited the immigration of Chinese laborers for ten years and explicitly denied Chinese immigrants the opportunity to become naturalized citizens. The Geary Act later extended the act in 1892, making the exclusion indefinite.

The Chinese Exclusion Act had severe consequences for the Chinese community in the United States. Families were separated, and those who left the country faced difficulties returning. The law fueled racial tensions and discrimination against Chinese immigrants, who were often subjected to violence and prejudice. Chinese communities were marginalized and isolated, facing social and economic hardships as a result of discriminatory policies.

The impact of the Chinese Exclusion Act extended beyond its initial enforcement period. The legislation remained in effect until 1943, when the Magnuson Act repealed it, largely due to the geopolitical context of World War II and the alliance between the United States and China against common enemies. The repeal, however, did not immediately eliminate discriminatory practices and attitudes towards Chinese immigrants.

The Chinese Exclusion Act remains a dark chapter in American immigration history, representing a period when fear and prejudice influenced policy decisions. In 2012, the U.S. Congress officially expressed regret for the discriminatory laws against Chinese immigrants, acknowledging the injustice and hardship imposed on the Chinese community during that era.

The legacy of the Chinese Exclusion Act serves as a poignant reminder of the importance of upholding principles of equality, justice, and fairness in shaping immigration policies. As the United States continues to grapple with issues of immigration and diversity, reflecting on the past can provide valuable insights into building a more inclusive and equitable future.

Quote of the Day – 01162024

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Vernon Johns, often overlooked in American civil rights history annals, made significant and impactful contributions to the movement. Known as Martin Luther King Jr.’s predecessor at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, Johns was a fiery and fearless advocate for racial equality. This comprehensive essay delves into his early life, extensive civil rights activism, and enduring legacy.


Early Life
Vernon Johns was born in 1892 in Darlington Heights, Virginia. From an early age, he demonstrated a remarkable intellect and an insatiable appetite for learning. Despite the limited educational opportunities available to African Americans during this era, Johns pursued his studies relentlessly. He fully utilized the few resources available, eventually earning a divinity degree from Oberlin College.

His passion for education was not merely a personal pursuit; it became a central theme in his civil rights work. He fervently believed in the transformative power of knowledge. Johns saw education as the key to personal growth and societal change, a belief that would influence his approach to activism.


Civil Rights Activism
Vernon Johns began his pastoral work in various churches, but his tenure at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in the 1940s and early 1950s would define his civil rights activism. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Johns was unafraid to challenge the status quo. His sermons were not merely spiritual messages but powerful calls to action that highlighted the systemic injustices faced by the African American community.

His fearless approach made him a controversial figure, yet his messages resonated with many. Johns’s sermons were a source of inspiration and a catalyst for change for many, including a young Martin Luther King Jr., who would later lead the civil rights movement.


Lasting Legacy
Though less well-known than many of his contemporaries, the legacy of Vernon Johns is profoundly significant. His fearless advocacy for racial equality laid the groundwork for seminal events like the Montgomery Bus Boycott and the broader civil rights movement. His influence extended beyond these events, shaping the course of American history.

More than this, his teachings on the power of education continue to inspire generations of African American scholars and activists. Johns’s belief in the transformative power of knowledge endures, fostering a drive for education and personal growth within the African American community.

Conclusion
Vernon Johns may not be a household name, yet his contributions to the fight for racial equality in America are undeniable. His fearless activism and emphasis on education made him a pivotal figure in the civil rights movement. As we reflect on his life and legacy, let us remember Vernon Johns as a man who dared to speak truth to power, setting a path for future generations. Johns’s life serves as a testament to the power of conviction and the transformative potential of education.