I wanted to follow my man Wayne over at Electronic Villages' lead, and post on some shit that's seriously relevant to black folks tonight. My man is asking the Afrospear to focus on this lamentable and deplorable shit that's going on in our neighborhoods. The same shit that is wiping out our young men in a genocidal fashion. It's called black on black violence.
In truth, I felt like Jessie Jackson today. I remembered his feeling apprehensive at the ATM comment while I was driving into West Philly to get some eats at my favorite Jamaican spot. There I was at 52nd and Market, a fucking sea of humanity around me; everyone hustling and bustling while they get their day to day grind on. And then, I did the Jessie move. I noticed my door wasn't locked and I locked it. Someone standing on the corner peeped me do it, and I was ashamed for about two seconds. I mean I wouldn't have done that shit in Chestnut Hill, or in Somerton would I? But fuck that, my feelings along those lines were fleeting. These little knuckle heads out here don't care who they are jacking. "Yeah field Negro, why don't you give me that nice field Negro ass whip you are pushing? Don't mind this cannon in your face, this is just what I use for protection around here. And every now and then, to convince some fucking field Negro, that he will be a dead Negro, if he doesn't comply with my wishes." So click! The field is down with his people, but he ain't stupid.
Damn I hated feeling that shit. But this is what people live with every day out here. And it ain't white folks living with it, it's us. Shit, over 250 murders and counting don't lie. Unless you are the mail man, the po po, or a bill collector; if you are white, you ain't seeing 52nd and Market anytime soon. When you pass that shit on the El., you don't even want to look down , because you are afraid of what you might see. And you know what; I can't blame you white people, this is our problem. When you want to eat some authentic Jamaican food, you just pack up the family for a vacation, and go down to Jamaica. I shouldn't have to do that, I should be able to go and eat some authentic Jamaican among my peeps without worrying about getting jacked.
But I have an immediate solution for all this shit. (Notice I said, immediate solution, the long terms solutions are too complex and involved. That's another post) More cameras, more cameras, and more cameras. Swamp the city with cameras like they do in London, and some other European cities. (And make sure the shit works) Cops, get out of your squad cars and start walking the beat again. Learn more about the people in the neighborhood you are patrolling. Know which one of Mrs. Johnson's grandsons is good and which one is bad. Use discretion when you pop these kids out here. Not every street crime is a major felony. Please, please, please, go after these straw purchasers of guns who buy hundreds of guns legitimately, and then sell them illegally on the streets. (I swear Pennsylvania is a backwards ass state) And finally, clamp down on suburban, and college kids who come into the hood to buy drugs. If you take away the demand for it, I guarantee you the money on these corners will dry up, and you want have knuckle heads killing to protect their turf.
Hey, just a few suggestions from the field. So that the next time I want some Jamaican Patti and co co bread; I won't have to feel like I am driving through a war zone to get it.
