News — END OF RACISM

We interviewed The Entreprenerial Sulaiman the Founder of BlackChild Promotions (@blackchildpromotions). In this Episode he explains the importance of Self Reliance, Racial Pride and a Family Structure inthe Blak Community! Filmed by @Thinkweike + @mrghostrain6 / Edited by @Thinkweike

In this episode of The Perspective, the influence community leaders discuss the question of which came first, racism or slavery? The guests share their opinions based on their experiences and understanding. They all represent different communities and interests. Their views really challenge the foundations and views laid around the concepts of racism and slavery. What comes out from the conversation is the importance of understanding the impact of both racism and slavery on the black community. What are your thoughts? Which one came first?

In this episode of The Perspective, the influence community leaders discuss the question of which came first, racism or slavery? The guests share their opinions based on their experiences and understanding. They all represent different communities and interests. Their views really challenge the foundations and views laid around the concepts of racism and slavery. What comes out from the conversation is the importance of understanding the impact of both racism and slavery on the black community. What are your thoughts? Which one came first?

Racism is a social construct and a system that has many layers. Therefore, when trying to determine whether someone can be racist, the individual should have the power to implement racism. So when the question is, can black people be racist, the answer gets quite complicated. In this podcast, the hosts try to answer this question. They cover race, racism, prejudice, discrimination, oppression, racial indoctrination, and structural and institutional racism as a systemic way of life. What do you think, Can black people be racist?

There is no questioning that the racial disparities in the US are evident in different areas of society. An excellent example is the attention black people versus white people get when they go missing. The media and police give more attention to the latter than the former. Dr. Whitehead calls this the “missing white woman syndrome.” She states that it goes back to slavery, where white women were lifted up, and the rest were crushed.  To some extent, the media plays a huge role in promoting this as they cover cases of missing white people more than missing black people. What do you think?

Martina Big has had injections to turn her into a black woman. Martina Big explains that she admires women of color, their skin, and their curves. She has had three melatonin injects costing 170 pounds each. Her skin color, hair color, and eye color have all changed to match those of a person of color. Her husband, Michael, is also taking the necessary steps to change his skin color. Martina has spent time in Africa to learn more about black culture and their way of living. She now identifies as 100% black. What do you think about Martina's choice?

The “Saltwater Railroad” refers to the coastal waterway followed by many enslaved people escaping from the Southern slave states into the British-controlled Bahamas. The saltwater railroad served a similar function as the Underground Railroad, a land pathway, that allowed enslaved people to flee to northern states and ultimately to Canada.

Movement to the Bahamas began as early as 1821. In 1818, future President Andrew Jackson, a supporter of slavery, invaded Spanish Florida which had previously served as a slave refuge. The official American takeover of Florida in the 1819 Adams-Onis Treaty prompted the flight of hundreds of blacks into the British-held Bahamas, beginning the four decades-long movement.

In the early 1800s, enslaved people from the deep South were limited in their options for escape: the northern states and British Canada, where slavery was either restricted or abolished by the 1820s, were thousands of miles away, making the Bahamas a more viable option.

The Bahamas were an attractive destination for numerous reasons. The majority of the population was black, a condition that allowed for slave resistance movements in the islands to take root. Free blacks in the Bahamas began to fight for rights not yet acknowledged in the slaveholding South. Black residents of the Bahamas could own land, marry and seek education. In 1825 the British government declared that anyone who traveled to British grounds, regardless of their prior status, was free and nine years later in August 1834, slavery was abolished throughout all British territories including the Bahamas. As an island chain which at some points was only 154 miles from Florida, growing numbers of black slaves sought and used the Saltwater Railroad to gain their freedom.

Fugitives who escaped Southern plantations took refuge on the beaches of Southern Florida. Those with money paid for their passage to the Bahamas on Bahamian boats, while those without embarked on the perilous journey in handmade canoes. Once in the Atlantic, runaway slaves faced recapture by pirates as well as ocean storms.

Those who made it to the Bahamas assimilated into a community populated by the Bahamian descendants of African slaves and “Black Seminoles,” runaway slaves from the deep South who first took refuge with the Seminole Indians in Florida, and then made their way to the Bahamas as the tribe was forced to Indian Territory on the Trail of Tears.

By the 1830s, an estimated 6,000 enslaved people had escaped to the islands. Notably, in 1841, a revolt on the Creole, a ship transporting slaves from Virginia to Louisiana, led to the liberation of over 100 people who sailed the ship to Nassau, Bahamas. Their escape inspired many other escapes, especially from Florida Territory.

Given the proximity of Florida (whose population in 1850 was 40% enslaved) to the British-controlled safe haven in the Bahamas, the potential for drastic losses led American officials to demand the return of fugitives from the United Sates. The British, however refused to returned fugitives but negotiations with U.S. diplomats led to the compensation of slave owners under the British Emancipation Act. The British-American relationship however remained strained by the saltwater migrations until after the Southern secession in 1861.

Today, the traditions and stories of the Southern runaway slaves and their journey on the Railroad are kept alive in the Adelaide and Gambier communities in the Bahamas, which are mainly populated by descendants of the early black escapees.

Sundown Towns are all-white communities, neighborhoods, or counties that exclude Blacks and other minorities through the use of discriminatory laws, harassment, and threats or use of violence. The name derives from the posted and verbal warnings issued to Blacks that although they might be allowed to work or travel in a community during the daytime, they must leave by sundown. Although the term most often refers to the forced exclusion of Blacks, the history of sundown towns also includes prohibitions against Jews, Native Americans, Chinese, Japanese, and other minority groups.

Although it is difficult to make an accurate count, historians estimate there were up to 10,000 sundown towns in the United States between 1890 and 1960, mostly in the Mid-West and West. They began to proliferate during the Great Migration, starting in about 1910, when large numbers of African Americans left the South to escape racism and poverty. As Blacks began to migrate to other regions of the country, many predominantly white communities actively discouraged them from settling there.

The means to announce and enforce racial restrictions varied across the country. In its most blatant form, signs were posted at the city limits. One in Alix, Arkansas, in the 1930s, for instance, read, “N—-r, Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On You In Alix.” Others stated, “Whites Only After Dark.” Many sundown towns used discriminatory housing covenants to ensure no non-white person would be allowed to purchase or rent a home. In the 1940s, Edmond, Oklahoma promoted itself on postcards with the slogan, “A Good Place to Live…No Negroes.” The town of Mena, Arkansas advertised its many charms: “Cool Summers, Mild Winters, No Blizzards, No Negroes.” In other cases, the policy was enforced through less formal norms and sanctions. Businesses that served Black customers or hired Black employees would be boycotted by the white townspeople, ensuring that Blacks had few, if any, job opportunities in those communities.

Racial exclusion in sundown towns was also achieved with violence. African Americans who lingered in sundown towns even during the daytime experienced harassment, threats, arrest, and beatings. It was not uncommon for Black motorists passing through these communities to be followed by police or local residents to the city limits. In extreme cases, hostility toward African Americans resulted in extrajudicial killing. The lynching of two Black teenagers in Marion, Indiana, in 1930, for instance, resulted in the town’s 200 Black residents moving away never to return.

The rise of sundown towns made it difficult and dangerous for Blacks to travel long distances by car. In 1930, for instance, 44 of the 89 counties along the famed Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles featured no motels or restaurants and prohibited Blacks from entering after dark. In response, Victor H. Green, a postal worker from Harlem, compiled the Negro Motorist Green Book, a guide to accommodations that served Black travelers. The guide was published from 1936 to 1966, and at its height of popularity was used by two million people.

Historians have found that most sundown towns deliberately hid the means by which they became and remained all-white. Apart from oral histories, there are often few archival records that describe precisely how sundown towns excluded Blacks. Laws and policies that enforced racial exclusion have largely disappeared, but de facto sundown towns existed into the 1980s, and some may still be in evidence today.

Rapper and actor Romeo Miller recently opened up about a tense encounter with a Black police officer after he allegedly pulled him over at gunpoint while he was driving around the University of California, Los Angeles campus.

Speaking on FOX Soul’s The Mix, the 31-year-old said the officer moved to him with his gun drawn and went ahead to ask if the car he was driving was stolen. “UCLA, you better have that camera recording, because they don’t play no games. But the guy pulled me over at gunpoint, a Black cop, and was like, ‘Is this a stolen vehicle?’” he recollected. “I’m like, bro, relax. Just come check my registration and get my driving license.”

“Is this a stolen vehicle?” Miller repeated, playing the role of the officer. The Jumping the Broom actor, however, said the hostility ceased once the officer recognized him. “And then he saw it was me and was like, ‘Oh, Romeo Miller? Oh, you’re good. I thought you were just some random Black dude,’” he recalled.

Though Miller, who is the son of veteran rapper and business mogul Master P, fortunately walked away unharmed, he lamented on how things could have gone south had it been just another regular Black person. Miller used his younger brothers as an example, saying the police could be hostile to them because they’re less famous and their towering physiques could pass them off as intimidating and mature – though they aren’t.

“I don’t care, you don’t have to be ‘some random Black dude.’ My brothers ain’t famous. They’re bigger than me –– these guys are 6’4, 6’5. These guys are ‘intimidating Black men.’ I have little brothers that literally look like grown men,” he said. “What are they going to go through when they don’t realize ‘Oh I know you from TV? You’re not a threat, or this or that.’ It’s sad that we’re seen as threatening. I been through that situation too many times.”

Miller’s encounter with the armed officer comes on the back of a recent and similar incident involving Power star Michael Rainey Jr. In an Instagram post, the Black actor claimed he would have been shot by a police officer after he was pulled over during a routine traffic stop had he not instinctively started recording their encounter.

In the video, Rainey, who is popularly known for his role as Tariq in the popular television series, Power, is seen trying to produce his license after the officer makes a demand for it. The officer, who is leaning over from the driver’s window of Rainey’s vehicle, appears to have his right hand on his gun at a certain point. He, however, appears to cover it after he realizes he is being recorded. Rainey claimed the decision to film the incident may have saved him from being shot by the officer.

Offensive lineman Justin Herron, who just finished his rookie season with New England Patriots, is being hailed a hero after saving a 71-year-old retired schoolteacher from being sexually assaulted in a public park last Saturday.

Herron, 25, who is training for the offseason in Arizona, and Phoenix resident Murry Rogers, who was also at the park for his daughter’s 15th birthday party, heard screams from the victim and rushed to the scene of the assault.

“At that moment, I was in shock,” Herron said at a press conference Wednesday, according to reports. “I wish I could tell you what I was thinking, but I could just tell someone needed help. All I could do was rush myself over there to make sure I could help the victim and I could comfort her and be the best person I can be.”

The retired teacher was going for her daily walk in Kiwanis Park in Tempe when the assailant, identified as Kevin Caballero, 30, jumped her to the ground and attempted to take off her pants, per a police report.

Herron, who is 6-foot-5 and 305 pounds, intervened, not wanting to be “too aggressive” when he pulled the assailant from the victim.

“I’m a football player, I’m kind of big,” he said at the news conference. “I try not to be too aggressive with people knowing I could potentially hurt somebody. I do have a loud voice. I yelled, told him to get off of her, and then yanked him off and I told him to sit down, and I told him to wait until the cops come.”

Herron said he always thought these sorts of things happen in movies and he never expected to experience this. Both he and Rogers were presented with Outstanding Service Awards by the Tempe Police Department.

“If not for the swift actions of Mr. Justin Herron and Mr. Murry Rogers, this vicious attack could’ve been much worse,” Tempe Police Detective Natalie Barela said.

The two got the chance to meet up with the woman briefly before their press conference. She was grateful they came to her aid when she was most vulnerable. “She thanked us. She called us her angels,” said Rogers. “I’m a little bit of a crier, so it was very emotional.”

According to the police, the victim suffered “minor injuries” and was immediately treated by the crisis unit for any emotional trauma from the attack.

“My parents always talked to me about it, if there’s someone in need, make sure you can help them and be the best you can be,” Herron said. “I don’t want this to happen again, I don’t want to have to save someone else’s life again, but I’m glad I was able to save someone’s life on Saturday.”

Caballero has been taken into police custody and faces charges of attempted assault and kidnapping, according to the police.

A Black F-22 stealth fighter pilot and the great-nephew of a distinguished Tuskegee Airman recently revealed he had to quit the United States Air Force because of racial bias and discrimination.

In an interview with David Martin on CBS’ 60 Minutes, Major Daniel Walker said he had always felt relegated to the background because of his skin color during his 11-year service as an Air Force officer. Walker alleged his fellow White officers weren’t treated with the hostility that he received.

“The way you stand, the way you walk, the way you sit, the way you speak. In what is supposed to be an objective field, [they] are subjectively rating you to others in the sort of unofficial grapevine of evaluation,” he said.

Walker alleged he and other people of his race in the military have had to check their demeanor to mitigate the way they’re perceived by their fellow White officers, telling 60 Minutes that the unspoken perception that got into his head is: “You’re big, you’re Black, with a deep voice. You’re intimidating.”

Walker said that even before heading to pilot training after graduating from the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado, he was warned by Black veterans about the reception he’ll receive once there.

“They’re going to treat you poorly. When you wash out, they’re probably not going to keep you in the Air Force,” he recalled on what the Black veterans told him.

And though Walker said he persevered and performed impressively during his time at flight school, he was still viewed in a certain way because he was lively. “I got feedback at the end of this course, however, that it was very evident that I was having a good time, and maybe I shouldn’t have been. Or [that] I talked too much…,” he said.

Walker was eventually assigned to an F-22 squadron in Virginia after graduating flight school. Initially feeling welcome, Walker said he later started experiencing an ironic but similar reception because he was a bit more reserved as compared to flight school.

“He’s too quiet. It seems like he thinks he’s too good to be here or too good for this place,” he said about his Air Force counterparts’ sentiments.

Walker decided he had had enough and quit. There are currently less than 50 Black pilots in the U.S. Air Force, according to 60 Minutes.

Bias despite integration?

The United States Armed Forces may have been integrated over 70 years ago, but allegations of racial bias by African-American officers remain strife as they claim their White counterparts climb up the promotional rank faster than them, 60 Minutes reported.

A report conducted by the U.S. Air Force Inspector General on racial disparity revealed “2 out of every 5 [African Americans in the Air Force] do not trust their chain of command to address racism, bias and unequal opportunities” and “3 out of every five [Black Air Force service members] … believe they do not… receive the same benefit of the doubt as their White peers if they get in trouble.”

Close to 2 million residents of the Rio de Janeiro’s impoverished favelas are struggling to cope with two lethal threats. The first, Covid-19, affects us all, but is a heightened risk for those who live on cramped streets where social distancing is hard and homes lack decent ventilation, sanitation, and access to potable water. Most favela residents rely on informal jobs and cannot work from home. About 300 residents have died of coronavirus.

The other threat is entirely man-made. In the first four months of 2020, Rio police, by their own count, killed 606 people. In April, as isolation measures came into place, robberies and other crimes dropped dramatically, but police violence surged. Police killed close to six people a day, a 43 percent increase from the same month last year. They were responsible for 35 percent of all killings in Rio de Janeiro state in April.

To put that in perspective, imagine police in the United States killing at a similar rate; they would be responsible for more than 36,000 deaths each year. Instead, US police shoot and kill about 1,000 people per year. That number includes cases where the use of deadly force was excessive and unwarranted, and too often indicative of flagrant discrimination against African-Americans. Some of those cases have led to public protest and unrest, as with the recent killing of George Floyd.

More than three quarters of the close to 9,000 people killed by Rio police in the last decade were black men. Nationwide, police killed more than 33,000 people in the last ten years. There have been some protests, particularly in the communities that suffer the brunt of that violence, but not the uproar seen in the United States.

The numbers alone cannot convey the tragedy. On May 18, three police officers, supposedly pursuing suspects, entered a home in the Salgueiro favela where six unarmed cousins had gathered to play. They opened fire hitting 14-year-old João Pedro Matos Pinto in the back. A relative drove João Pedro to a helicopter used by police in the operation, which took him away. The family spent  more than 17 hours not knowing his whereabouts or condition, and finally found João’s body at the coroner´s office.  

Three days later, as teachers, students, and other volunteers outside a school in the Providência favela handed out food packages to families left hungry by the economic fallout from Covid-19, the police opened fire. They said they were responding to gunfire from unidentified suspects. They killed Rodrigo Cerqueira, a 19-year-old whose teacher described him as a “wonderful boy” who always sat in the front row in school.

In the May 18 and May 21 operations, the police made no arrests and no officer was injured. The police routinely excuse themselves in killings, saying they opened fire in self-defense. Sometimes, it is true, as they face dangerous gangs. But many times, it is not.

The same rules for the use of lethal force apply in Providência or Salgueiro as in Copacabana and other wealthy Rio de Janeiro neighborhoods, but you wouldn’t know it. Human Rights Watch research over more than a decade shows that in poor neighborhoods, police open fire recklessly, without regard for the lives of bystanders. Sometimes they wantonly execute people.

That they only behave so abusively in poor neighborhoods may explain the lack of an uproar over the killings in a society as deeply unequal as Brazil´s.

Police operations resulting in injuries and killings make law-abiding citizens of poor neighborhoods see officers as the enemy and a threat to their children. Such brutality does nothing to dismantle criminal groups. Instead, it feeds a cycle of violence that also puts officers at risk.

Rio de Janeiro state authorities need to draft and put into effect a plan with concrete steps and goals to reduce police killings. And when those killings occur, the Rio de Janeiro prosecutor´s office needs to ensure prompt, thorough, and independent investigations, including by opening its own investigations, in addition to those undertaken by the police.

While Covid-19 will affect favela residents for a long time, effective public health policies can help bring it under control. But as long as officers responsible for reckless shootings and cold-blooded executions are not held accountable, we’ll keep losing innocent young people in Rio de Janeiro, with no end in sight.