Who Are We? Are We Pimping Our Black Culture?

It is perplexing that we as black people want to embrace our culture, but at the same time are offended when someone of another race tries to embrace it. Whether it is our music, urban way of dressing, dance moves, etc.

I understand why, perhaps it is because of the not the rich, but poor history of our race. Our ancestors for the most part were brought here against their will and were forced into slavery. Through all of the heartache, they learned how to survive and created a legacy rich in culture with the little that they had. Creating sumptuous meals from the scraps of food they were thrown such as bones left over from animals (neck bones) and pigs’ intestines (chitterlings or chitlens). These and many other dishes such as collard greens, pig’s feet, ham hocks, etc. are what we call Soul Food and our part of our beautiful Black heritage.

And the songs that slaves sung helped to form such music genres such as Jazz, Gospel, and the Blues which also led to other genres such as Rhythm and Blues and even Hip-Hop with its funky beats.

Now we are in a new millennium, and have more liberties and are able to embrace who we are, we are in essence a mixture of what our ancestors were before slavery and what we are now that slavery has been legally abolished. But many are still slaves in their minds, torn between the two, most Black Americans would not want to go to Africa, nor would they be accepted in Africa. But as we continue to learn more about our past, sometimes we find it difficult to swallow all of the injustices our ancestors endured and the racial profiling that still continues today, not only for not only us, but Latinos as well, need I mention Sonia Sotomayer?
Have we become so complacent that we do nothing at the risk of leaving our comfort zone?

We want to be accepted by white people as long as they don’t cross the line and start to carry on in ways that are considered only acceptable by Black people. We have a few token White people that we embrace in the music world, such as Justin Timberlake and Eminem. Just as White people have a few token minorities that they embrace in film, for example, Will Smith and Eva Mendes. But everyone is cautious to keep the lines clear so that the melting pot is still divided into shades of black, brown, and white, never allowing for it to become grey in any culture.

So then what do we want? We simply want respect and our culture to be respected. But in order for Blacks to be respected as a whole, we have to be respectful. We cannot act like a fool and then demand respect, because when an individual of black color acts inappropriately, it affects the entire black culture. But when a White person does, the person is focused on, not the person’s ethnicity.

Most people that are currently famous have wealth attached to their name. But do those who manage, publish, and distribute what those people sell such as music really respect the individual artist? Or do they respect what they get from that artist in terms of residuals. Think of some of the most influential musical artists currently, who respects Lil Wayne; many respect his dollars, but not him. But a person’s soul is not defined by their wealth but their character.

So if these artists do not believe in what they are saying, and are doing whatever sells, then they are pimping themselves, much like the prosttutes that I see when I drive down Long Beach Blvd in Compton, CA.

Are you pimping yourself, or are you as real in front of people as you are behind closed doors?

The Obama’s cannot do it on their own; neither can Dr. William Cosby, or Oprah. We are all responsible for our actions and like it or not, our actions collectively represent what is perceived by the media. The media does not look at the 20% of the black populous that is pushing forward; they concentrate on the 80% that makes our culture look bad. What percentage are you?

By Veniece Wesson - No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Music is My High

“Music is my high…
I inhale, I exhale, and I breathe music…
From Rhythm N' Blues to Classical (especially the romantics) to Rock to Blue Grass to Jazz to Hip-Hop as long as the Hip-Hop has some meaning to it other than, “Shawty, you look good, now come ride in my Benz and drop it like it’s hot.”
I said Hip-Hop, not slip-shot.
And from there my list still continues…
I like music while driving in my car, in the studio, or live in a venue.
My list of artists is so long that I cannot relay it to you in one simple Blogger column.
But if I started at A and randomly made it to the to the bottom
I probably start out with Al, who has translated "Love and Happiness into my mind,
As I have played many of his poignant songs time after time
Then I would throw in Bonnie Raitt in the "Nick of Time",
I have Cried Me a River with Ella
And then swam through that same river to get with that Muddy Waters fella
Lalah, Mozart, Stone Mecca, Raphael Saddiq, Teena Marie, and Sting,
For he is the "King of Pain" and I have often felt like his Queen,
And my music would not be complete without the King of Pop
I get chills every time I see his majestic facial expressions & moves in "Dirty Diana", and don't stop because I never get enough"
To Ludacris' "Release Therapy"
To the Emancipation or Mimi
To New Edition's "Heart Break"
To Ice Cube's "Today Was a Good Day"
Public Enemy, En Vogue, the Supremes, Amerie, Beyonce, oops my flow in not in alphabetical order, I need to rewind
I only type 55 WPM, but words are moving at 1055 WPM in my mind,
You see my memory bank is filled with the majestic sound of pianos, cellos, saxophones, and trombones
And the list of instruments goes on and on
Music makes me smile, laugh, cry, dance, and “shake it like a tail feather" in the privacy of my own home, it sends subtle and not so subtle messages methodically and harmoniously to my mind
Those messages remind
Me of the “Inner City Blues”
And serve as a reminder to the one I love that “I Can’t Stop Loving You.”
I don’t need illegal substances or alcohol
I need God & music
God gave me life
And music helps to translate my life
Going through my veins like water through a pipe
I inhale
I exhale
I breathe music”


Copyright 2009 by Veniece Wesson. All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

You Didn't Even Fight For Me

"You didn’t even fight for me
You just let me go
Couldn’t your gut sense the need in me?

All of these feelings laying dormant

Like a storm on the rise
Released by the tide of your loving force
But now the force and the pangs of waning love has taken the storm way off course
Brewing initially was a minute storm that would saturate a few weeds
And hopefully drown them out so that our love would flourish and we would better ascertain one another’s needs
But my insatiable hunger for you has turned into a tsunami
The end result being two broken hearts not fit for recovery
Because I cannot bear the constant separation
I use to take pride in my lack of need for a man
I could see the man I was dating every once in a while
Let him caress me and leave content with a smile
Because although that man was accommodating
He was in no way at all exhilarating
Besides I was a woman with purpose, and anything more would cramp my style
And then one day, just as fashion trends changed, so did the weather
And humidity seeped into my pores
Leaving me dripping wet at your door
My guard began to drop
Because you kept seeping through every crevice of my pores
Eventually reaching my carefully guarded soul
It was no exageration when I said that for two years plus I was not attracted to another man
You imply that it is impossible for a female not to be attracted to other men
But you are thinking from that bulge in your pants
I am not merely attracted by what I see visually
But also viscerally
Though aesthetics are pleasing , they are not the deciding factor
Just like I hope that you don’t choose a women by her looks complete by Max Factor
Men of various background have approached me and have all sunk like the Titanic, they had impressive portfolios
But in the end they were lacking the proper credentials
At least for what I needed
I needed a man to completely fill me in spirit, soul, and body and not leave me with gaping holes
When your tugboat came in to guide my cruise ship
I was hesitant at first
But I begin to see that your actions were natural and simplistic, and not at all rehearsed
And I adore your complex, multi-layered, soul that is bottomless like the deep blue sea
Now I am sailing despondently, never thinking that I would be blue in the oceanic because of lack of time with you
But somehow you touched a part of me out in ocean of love this summer
I’m so wet; I regret that a life jacket cannot save me
I was cruising along fine on my Princess Cruise line
Good times, stimulating talk, and wonderful friends; like fine wine
Mostly sunshine, little rain, no storms, and no love fatalities
Just like the weather you crept up on me gradually
You rescued my heart when your life saver appeared
And now that you’re here
You are not going to even fight for me; you are just going to disappear?
I never cared enough about anyone to care what they did
I enjoyed the separation and the separate lives that we lived
My ex was always at dock a and I never sailed out of dock b
Except for that occasion we would meet at dock c
The distance was never an issue
My ex and I could love and leave each other on cue
But when you and I are close at heart we are far in distance
And when we are close in distance we are far apart at heart
My head is filled with confusion, which is the devil’s workshop
You can’t see the tears through the oceanic, but my rudder is off course
My eyes are red and my voice is hoarse
And all I can hear now is noise in the bottomless sea echoing my heart beating for you
Yes, I am confused
Because I have become unglued
Thinking about you
And why this weather love pattern occurs on every blue moon
And why life and commitments seem to consume
Our lives leaving us with so little time
I don’t even have time to unwind
My work, my kids, and you have me consumed
I could see this coming, our course doomed
Because you chose to dwell in a complacent realm
And instead of loving me, you took a nap at the helm
And in the end, you didn’t even fight for me
How could you not fight for me?"

Copyright 2009 by Veniece Wesson. All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Co-Depen-DEBT

The majority of our black community is failing, in co-depen-DEBT
Looking good without a cent left
Pay day to pay day
Always on lay-a-way
Credit cards maxed
Obtaining clothes but no land
Wearing Russell’s and Kimora’s Phat clothes
But owning no phat portfolio
Car registration’s past due because you chose to procure the status symbol of assurance
Driving a nice car with no insurance
Car’s not maintained, you hope it has endurance
Co-depen-DEBT where is your wealth?
If asked what FICO is?
Will your reply be is that some new kind of designer trend?
And then hop merrily to the store
Too ignorant to realize that a FICO is a credit score
They admire you at work and in your hood
Because on the outside you always look good
But you have no wisdom within
Otherwise you would save often and rarely spend
When you take off the bling at night
You know that you ain’t right
Because while looking good you neglect to pay your bills
Too busy feigning and fronting and now you’re beginning to feel ill
You may be top dawg or diva now, but soon you’ll be bankrupt
With your hand stretched out with the proverbial homeless cup
With a sign that says, “Will work for bling and trivial things”
Standing near the freeway off ramp, in last year’s trends
Top Dawg and Ms. Diva, you had better realize what time it is
It is time to wake up
And stop looking fly while being Co-depen-DEBT

Copyright 2009 by Veniece Wesson. All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Diamonds Are a Girls Best Friend

"Diamonds are a girls best friend

Forever blingin' through the thick & thin"

"My best friends are my diamonds & me

Faux treatment has taught me to appreciate the finer things

Diamonds don’t bail once they adorn you or go soft
They always look good & stay strong & hard
Forever looking pretty & paying a girl compliments

Diamonds don’t leave for another girl, another gem

They are the real deal & no CZ man

The type of man that looks genuine on the outside, but is fake within

Not rhinestones or CZs , a girl needs a stone of a man that can cut glass & is built to last

Not a phony made of glass; Fabricated in some lab

A man that knows how to respect a woman

Not a "wham, bam, thank you maam" man

Loving & leaving handing out Cracker Jack rings as consolation prizes randomly as he walks out her door

A girl is worth a ten-carat canary diamond in platinum, engraved & more

Some women choose not to wear their best friends on their ring finger

Because one day a girl may let a soldier battle her heart for that finger

And if a girl chooses than her ring finger should have a best friend

Given to her by a diamond of a man who is all genuine… "

"Diamonds are a girls best friend

Forever blingin' through the thick & thin"

Copyright 2009 by Veniece Wesson. All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Michael Jackson, the Link that United the World

There are few events that link millions of people together. We as a country and all across the world have all experienced our own personal share of pain and sorrow. We probably have all lost someone who was close to us, but to us only. Whose life was only celebrated by a small select group of people, for example, the death of a family member, a relative, a neighbor, a friend, or even a co-worker. And when that loved one died perhaps a few hundred people grieved.
We have also in our own right felt a personal loss when a public figure of great magnitude has died. But usually that person’s demise fell within a certain genre; whether it was based on social status, political status, ethnicity, musical style, etc.

But on June 25, 2009 shortly after hearing of the death of Charlie’s Angel, Farrah Fawcett, the world simultaneously grieved together all at once and was silent when the KING OF POP spirit’s descended above the Earth.

Years ago, I remember watching a television program celebrating the life of Elvis, (I was a young girl when he died and didn’t understand the impact at the time). So as I was watching this broadcast the thought crossed my mind what would the impact if Michael Jackson died. And then I immediately dismissed the thought. I realized that my mind was just relating Michael to Elvis because of their enormous popularity that transcended race, creed, and culture.

Moreover, I just never thought that it would actually happen. I just could not fathom the thought of his death. Even though I know that all people die, I simply could not imagine the King of Pop’s departure. I don’t know why, but I just thought that he would keep reinventing himself, and continue to come back out on top.

Many of my first recollections of music began with Michael and his brothers. Me and my classmates chanted to the tune of ABC as we jumped rope and played other childhood games. And then I vividly recall being mesmerized as I often enjoyed watching the Jackson Five perform on Soul Train and American Bandstand. I remember how my Uncle Maurice (two years my senior) would dance in the family room spinning around and doing the splits entertaining my family and visitors at holidays.

When I was a preteen I took modern dance classes and at a dance recital I danced to Don’t Stop until You Get Enough. But somewhere along the line, my peers got enough and moved on to Rick James, Prince, Ray Parker Jr, Luther Vandross, and Zapp. Jermaine had married into the Gordy family, and the Jacksons were no longer that cute little group of brothers that my peers and I grew up listening to.

But while my classmates and I were living the typical teenage life of football games, dances, etc., Michael refused to stop. And then suddenly… there was an immersion of a young man who reinvented himself. He arose into this untouchable musical icon and then the entire world took notice and recognized Michael Jackson as a rare talent, a gifted performer, the King of Pop.
Some talents can sing, but they cannot dance, or if they can dance, they don’t have stage presence, but Michael had it all; in just one word; phenomenal.

He found himself and suddenly we embraced him all over again, and not only the black culture, but the entire world. He was put on a pedestal that reached the sky. He was dancing with a glass slipper and that glass broke, because the pedestal was just too much for him or anyone to maintain. And when the glass broke, so did his heart, piece by piece. Michael effortlessly tried to reinvent himself to reach the next level, but it was “Too high to get over, too low to get under”, he was stuck in the middle, and the pain was thunder.”

Yes, I am not denying Michael was eccentric, but did we not put him there? We the thirsty blood sucking so called fans. Yes, we are fans, fanatics, always searching for something new, always wanting to top or outdo each other and in turn expecting that from the people that entertain us. But when those entertainers go home to their place of residence, their solitude, they are human just like us. Often we forget this. We think that actors, singers, musicians, etc. exist in a realm outside of the norm. But when you discard the mansions, the cars, and the lifestyle, underneath it all is still a man or woman, boy or girl, who cries, bleeds, and dies just like we do.

Fans like to praise celebrities when they do well, but when they mess up we want to not only criticize, but dissect each mistake as if we were performing surgery. But when you do well at work or school, you also like the accolades, and when you mess up, you don’t want criticism, you say what Michael sang, Just Leave Me Alone.

Stop and think for a minute, we all have places where we feel the most comfortable, safe, at home. It may be in your favorite chair, your chaise, behind the seat of your sports car, or simply surrounded by your family. But what if the only place you felt safe was on stage? Can you imagine, if your security was based in solely in performing? And then not performing for years, what that might do to you? What it did to Michael?

Mozart was supposedly eccentric but today, we embrace his music and not his odd behavior. So as cliché as it may sound please look at the Man in the Mirror before you judge him and remember Michael Jackson for the true talent that he was, his music and talent deserves it, for he was BAD.

By Veniece Wesson All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.