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.

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.