Hearing Black?

A black guy in his mid-20's named Mike called into a radio show the other day, and he commented that "black people don't hear things the same way whites do."  We blacks apparently  "hear black." 

So blacks don't hear the statement "Take me back to the good ol' days" the same way as whites.  Blacks are not nostalgic at all about "the good ol' days", and believe this to be "code" for taking blacks back to the bondage of slavery.

To illustrate his point, Mike said that when he was in the second-grade, he and his classmates had listened to Reagan one evening, and Reagan commented that America should go back to its "glorious past."  The next day at school all the black kids were crying, and asked their teacher, "Is Reagan was going to make black people slaves again?"  Neither Mike nor his classmates had ever experienced slavery, so he seemed to go a long way back to consider the good ol' days.  And why blame Reagan?

My upbringing was different.  I never had learned to "hear black."  So when I hear of going back to the good ol' days, I think of being a carefree kid and having the loving support of my family.  I would get out of school, take the bus home (about 15 miles), where my grandfather was usually waiting to take me and my brother fishing.

We would return early evening to clean the fish, and then the handoff occurred to my grandmother who fried the fish in Crisco.  Meal fully prepared, we ate together, saying Grace before the meal.

Afterwards, we would usually play dominoes, the TV on in the background for added distraction. 

The next morning my cycle of carefree life began anew with the two mile drive to the gate, where the bus picked me up, and I was off to school. 

Education was stressed, so you didn't skip out on school. Well I did once.  I was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and I was eventually found out, as were my three co-conspirators.  Even though all we did was go to the park to "hang out," I got in big trouble-grounded in fact.  It seemed the whole town knew about our devious plan. Needless to say, it never happened again.

We took road trips as a family, usually going to visit relatives.  Life wasn't much different for them.  We always stopped to buy chicken and cokes before ascending on them.  Our arrival almost always had the feel of a mini family reunion.  Lots of big smiles, hugs, and eventually cards and/or dominoes.  We caught up on happenings, and got up to date on the latest gossip, family or otherwise. 

Day two of any visit was usually greeted with music and as with most black gatherings, we were there for fellowship "and a barbeque broke out." 

Ribs, watermelon, corn-on-the-cob, potato salad, and BBQ beans were mainstays, and orange, red, and grape soda quenched our thirsts.  At some point friends and acquaintances joined in, and a pickup football or basketball game would inevitably ensue. 

The tape decks would appear, and music blasting.  If the group was big enough, then somebody would "sport" their new car stereo, popping the trunk.  The party was official-base-beats loud enough to pop welds.  This scene would repeat itself many times during my childhood.  All great memories of the good ol' days.  But for many blacks the music stopped, as times changed.  I remember it in my family like it was yesterday.

It happened when I was around sixteen.  One of my inebriated cousins misheard a statement made by one of our uncles.  In her mind-altered chemically dependent state she accused our uncle of trying to rip off her father.  He hadn't.

Regardless, she threatened to get her pistol, and the hardware from other family members came out of the woodwork.  Pistols were being brandished like afro picks.  Family members took sides, without even knowing the reason for the conflict. 

Amazingly, no shots were fired, but a lot of drunken truths were exposed.  The family gatherings had ended.  Just like that.  In an instant, decades of tradition over.  Perhaps this was when I should have begun "hearing black?"

I do still remember the good times, before the black community changed so dramatically.  There were no Republican bogeymen around, speaking in unintelligible code language when part of the destruction of my family occurred.  There were just a handful of chemically-inspired Democrat-worshipping black folks, "hearing things differently."

I thought to myself when thinking of that young black man's comment, that if you want to create a group of people who are victims, don't teach them about their "glorious past." Just teach them that they are victims, but not victims of themselves.

Black kids are not being educated about the glorious past of our families and our culture.  We just believe that the destruction of the black family is what it is. We don't even think to equate it to Democrat policies that offered blacks the "easy" button.

Because of tepid responses to questions of racism, Republicans miss wonderful opportunities to educate misguided black youngsters to the racism of Democrats.  We also miss opportunities to empower other conservatives-conservatives who are so thoroughly tired of being called racists-by explaining the facts of historically irrefutable Democrat racism against blacks.

Black people hear things differently, because Republicans allow them to hear and interpret differently, then essentially revise things as the black community sees fit-usually with the help of a complicit racist system run by the liberal media and Democrats. 

Republicans should embrace discussions of slavery, because these discussions allow Republicans to set the record straight and take blacks back to the good ol' days...in proper context.  More importantly these discussions allow parallels of Democrats racist tactics of the past to their tactics of today.  This parallel showcases how blacks have replaced the old, very real plantation, and dependence on "Massa," with the metaphorical plantation of dependence on government.

Republicans should invite all blacks back to the good ol' days, so they can understand the Republicans' commitment to blacks.  When that happens, I suggest to you that all of America will begin "hearing things the same way."

Kevin Jackson is author of The BIG Black Lie and the writer of The Black Sphere blog. You may reach him at theblacksphere@gmail.com for articles or speaking engagements.
A black guy in his mid-20's named Mike called into a radio show the other day, and he commented that "black people don't hear things the same way whites do."  We blacks apparently  "hear black." 

So blacks don't hear the statement "Take me back to the good ol' days" the same way as whites.  Blacks are not nostalgic at all about "the good ol' days", and believe this to be "code" for taking blacks back to the bondage of slavery.

To illustrate his point, Mike said that when he was in the second-grade, he and his classmates had listened to Reagan one evening, and Reagan commented that America should go back to its "glorious past."  The next day at school all the black kids were crying, and asked their teacher, "Is Reagan was going to make black people slaves again?"  Neither Mike nor his classmates had ever experienced slavery, so he seemed to go a long way back to consider the good ol' days.  And why blame Reagan?

My upbringing was different.  I never had learned to "hear black."  So when I hear of going back to the good ol' days, I think of being a carefree kid and having the loving support of my family.  I would get out of school, take the bus home (about 15 miles), where my grandfather was usually waiting to take me and my brother fishing.

We would return early evening to clean the fish, and then the handoff occurred to my grandmother who fried the fish in Crisco.  Meal fully prepared, we ate together, saying Grace before the meal.

Afterwards, we would usually play dominoes, the TV on in the background for added distraction. 

The next morning my cycle of carefree life began anew with the two mile drive to the gate, where the bus picked me up, and I was off to school. 

Education was stressed, so you didn't skip out on school. Well I did once.  I was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and I was eventually found out, as were my three co-conspirators.  Even though all we did was go to the park to "hang out," I got in big trouble-grounded in fact.  It seemed the whole town knew about our devious plan. Needless to say, it never happened again.

We took road trips as a family, usually going to visit relatives.  Life wasn't much different for them.  We always stopped to buy chicken and cokes before ascending on them.  Our arrival almost always had the feel of a mini family reunion.  Lots of big smiles, hugs, and eventually cards and/or dominoes.  We caught up on happenings, and got up to date on the latest gossip, family or otherwise. 

Day two of any visit was usually greeted with music and as with most black gatherings, we were there for fellowship "and a barbeque broke out." 

Ribs, watermelon, corn-on-the-cob, potato salad, and BBQ beans were mainstays, and orange, red, and grape soda quenched our thirsts.  At some point friends and acquaintances joined in, and a pickup football or basketball game would inevitably ensue. 

The tape decks would appear, and music blasting.  If the group was big enough, then somebody would "sport" their new car stereo, popping the trunk.  The party was official-base-beats loud enough to pop welds.  This scene would repeat itself many times during my childhood.  All great memories of the good ol' days.  But for many blacks the music stopped, as times changed.  I remember it in my family like it was yesterday.

It happened when I was around sixteen.  One of my inebriated cousins misheard a statement made by one of our uncles.  In her mind-altered chemically dependent state she accused our uncle of trying to rip off her father.  He hadn't.

Regardless, she threatened to get her pistol, and the hardware from other family members came out of the woodwork.  Pistols were being brandished like afro picks.  Family members took sides, without even knowing the reason for the conflict. 

Amazingly, no shots were fired, but a lot of drunken truths were exposed.  The family gatherings had ended.  Just like that.  In an instant, decades of tradition over.  Perhaps this was when I should have begun "hearing black?"

I do still remember the good times, before the black community changed so dramatically.  There were no Republican bogeymen around, speaking in unintelligible code language when part of the destruction of my family occurred.  There were just a handful of chemically-inspired Democrat-worshipping black folks, "hearing things differently."

I thought to myself when thinking of that young black man's comment, that if you want to create a group of people who are victims, don't teach them about their "glorious past." Just teach them that they are victims, but not victims of themselves.

Black kids are not being educated about the glorious past of our families and our culture.  We just believe that the destruction of the black family is what it is. We don't even think to equate it to Democrat policies that offered blacks the "easy" button.

Because of tepid responses to questions of racism, Republicans miss wonderful opportunities to educate misguided black youngsters to the racism of Democrats.  We also miss opportunities to empower other conservatives-conservatives who are so thoroughly tired of being called racists-by explaining the facts of historically irrefutable Democrat racism against blacks.

Black people hear things differently, because Republicans allow them to hear and interpret differently, then essentially revise things as the black community sees fit-usually with the help of a complicit racist system run by the liberal media and Democrats. 

Republicans should embrace discussions of slavery, because these discussions allow Republicans to set the record straight and take blacks back to the good ol' days...in proper context.  More importantly these discussions allow parallels of Democrats racist tactics of the past to their tactics of today.  This parallel showcases how blacks have replaced the old, very real plantation, and dependence on "Massa," with the metaphorical plantation of dependence on government.

Republicans should invite all blacks back to the good ol' days, so they can understand the Republicans' commitment to blacks.  When that happens, I suggest to you that all of America will begin "hearing things the same way."

Kevin Jackson is author of The BIG Black Lie and the writer of The Black Sphere blog. You may reach him at theblacksphere@gmail.com for articles or speaking engagements.