Hotep,
December 21, 2k12 marks another positive milestone in my personal
life. That’s right, the so-called
expiration date of the Mayan calendar.
The scheduled date to the end of all days was nothing short of a
blessing for me. I mean, from the hours
of 11am to 2:35pm EST, my mind was at ease, and the deepest part of my soul was
on full display. A mere few hours of
evading the daily turmoil and strife that surrounds me; a much welcome change
of pace. Ya heard?
“Beautiful” is the word that best exemplifies this short but
sweet escape from the racism that shackles my physical existence. The only way 12/21/2013 could’ve been any
sweeter, was if this wall – that I’ve lived behind for nearly two decades – was
no more than a blemish in my rearview mirror; a precursor sharing the holidays
with my fam. Feel me?
The penitentiary environment has a unique was of eclipsing the
warm feelings manifested by the holiday spirit.
The hostility that chills the walls of this box is nothing more than a
slight breeze blowing through the mane of a lion; it rarely shakes me. Na mean?
But, there are times when my days may feel like the storm of
the century. The fact that I’m garbed
with the love and support of people I’ve known all of my life, makes the
chances of my heart being frost bitten, a non-issue.
The stories of my parents – well into their golden years –
serving Meals on Wheels warms my heart the way a steamy cup of hot chocolate
does my insides, on the coldest of days.
The excitement in the voice of my Nyse when she speaks of receiving her
Bachelor’s Degree, in Web Design, this coming spring fills me with 500 degrees
of emotion; an explosion of happy feelings is inevitable.
Recently, I received the news that my home girl/editor
Rochelle, has been named “Top Female Talent of Central, East and West
Africa.” That’s what’s up!! I mean, our connection has been a gift that
never loses its relevance. To know that
she’s making a positive difference in the homeland of my ancestors is another
example of the term “Black on Black,” not being linked to something
negative. Keep doing what you do, Ma.
I’ve given three different connections, to me that reveal,
“Black on Black,” as a term of endearment.
Now, prepare yourselves for the sudden drop in temperature as I share
the sub-zero effects of “Black on Black,” within a penitentiary setting, so
button up.
If there’s one thing the history of American slavery has
taught us; it’s the psychological impact of self-hate-indoctrinated by slave
masters – has a congenital effect. From
our ancestors, to today’s newborns, it was the strategy of the slave master to
play one black against another.
You see, race can be a factor when a C.O. has a grave dislike
for a prisoner; even if the prisoner and the C.O. are both
African-Americans. I’ve witnessed black
C.O.’s insight confrontations involving black prisoners, while in the safety of
their control station, as a means of settling a grudge with another African-American. SMH.
Inside of the box, the C.O. is the authority figure. This particular brand of insidious contempt
(in-house racism) is the primary reason why assaults and murders are taking
place in prisons, across the U.S.
So, to this type of C.O., that’s yakking it up with his
buddies over a cold beer about his chess moves at work, The aphorism:
“Everything ain’t always black and white,” holds true. Sometimes its simply, “Black on Black.” Word is bond!!
Doing What I Do,
MannofStat
Copyright © 2013 by Leroy Elwood Mann
