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LITTLE ‘BLACK’ BOX

BY PAUL WOLFE (a.k.a. FIELDHAND)

A short time ago I had conversation with a close friend of the Caucasian persuasion or type

Good heart, strong mind, just and right.

With his beautiful Black wife he seemed to be colorblind but digging a bit deeper he was having an internal fight.

The product of their love was a beautiful baby girl.

With her caramel skin and kinky hair she would be labeled as mixed in this world.

The question he posed to me; how did you deal with the issues of being Black?

Wanting to be down, unprotected sex, addiction to crack;

Pressures to play the fool and underperform in school.

In his mind I had made it out the hood, the projects too.

The message I am delivering now versus then is a little bit different, to listen is his decision.

Take a step back and open up the peripheral vision; one step further, shut off the television.

Because that’s the inaccurate projection of what it is to be Black in America,

Broadcasted by folks that have financial gain to misrepresent us in this era.

Similar to your contribution to your baby girl, we have folks all across the spectrum;

Extremist to facilitators, illiterate inmates to the great debaters,

So called hood brothas to the ones trying to take back our corners.

But compare that to the dudes that push pills without FDA approval;

The ones selling toxic shit on legal markets when they know it’s going to screw you.

But then there’s the compassionates, the Buffets, the humanitarians such as Gates.

In the end your baby girl is probably similar to what you see at dinner on her plate.

You probably see the good, the bad and the ugly in a somewhat nutritious meal

The heritage from both of her parents has that same appeal;

Too many carbs in the creamy white potatoes and too much fat in the succulent dark meat.

Your job, my brother, is to help her figure out when, what and how much to eat.