First things first, yes I'm aware that the title of this blog post is so long that it could easily double as a Fall Out Boy or PANIC! at the Disco song name (and that my posting is as erratic as their song release schedules, I'm sorry!).
I haven't written much lately for a number of reasons: Primarily because I spent the entire summer grieving with my family (I'll share more on that later), but also because my granny always taught me that if I had nothing kind to say, not to say anything at all...
and I have YET to be able to speak on current events or this Trump administration without my petty monster clawing its way outside of the closet where I try to keep it satisfied with videos of Auntie Maxine, Angela Rye, and the weekly episode of the Read.
So late last week when Crissle was sick (so she and Kid Fury, hosts of the Read couldn't tape their podcast), and President Trump stretched his tiny twitter fingers just a few hours ago (which he's verified to be the only part of him to get any regular exercise) for their daily cyberbullying workout, I knew this post was coming.
His comments last week deriding NFL players as "sons of b**ches" who should be fired for peacefully kneeling in protest of this country's passivity towards and compliance with police brutality against black people seems to have struck a chord with his base (who to be clear, I'm still deeply distrustful of and will perpetually side-eye for their "questionable" judgement, but that too is another blog post). This morning, in response to the hundreds of athletes joining the demonstrations across the country on game day, I've seen dozens of inspired, seemingly patriotic (but anti-protest, which is an oxymoron?) comments mirroring the President's most recent tweets decrying the players' actions and attitudes as wrongly disrespectful down my usually serene Sunday morning Facebook/Twitter feed.
Now don't get me wrong, I like the national anthem as much as the average American I'd suppose (the first verse anyway - we all know how racist the second verse gets), especially when Beyonce is singing it, and Whitney's Super Bowl rendition always leaves me with my jaw dropped (but she could do that with the ABC's). Its ideals in a vacuum are honorable, even if their implementation has far too often excluded non white/cis/het/Christian/able-bodied citizens of the U.S. - all of whose freedoms the anthem is purported to represent.
The irony of the differing perspectives being vocalized today is in the ire that these national anthem protests elicit from people whose strong feelings of love of country have been challenged by what they perceive to be "disrespectful" to a symbol - many of whom have shown they have absolutely no belief in or care to fight institutionalized racism and state-sanctioned violence against black and brown bodies the system represents and even sometimes advocates for.
How is it okay that their hurt feelings matter more than our lives? It's almost as if they'd expect us to accept oppression for their comfort.
This country has been singing that same, tired song as its dominant narrative long before Francis Scott Key found words and melody for it.
This country's wealth was built on my people's slave labor, on the backs of men and women treated and bred like less than chattel, the decimation of their families and the dismantling of their cultural identity.
And the song played on.
My people were expected (and during draft time, demanded) to fight for this country often with half the resources as their white comrades-in-arms, only to be treated as second-class citizens when they returned home from war.
And the song played on.
This country has methodically assassinated my people's leaders and in their absence successfully conspired to flood our communities with drugs only to declare a war on black people and fill the jails with the very people they set up to fail.
And the song played on.
Even today, with its mass criminalization of people of color, particularly young African American men, this country has perfected its most efficient system of racial control (outside of slavery) with legal wage free income since the days of the Jim Crow sharecropping Dixie.
So no, considering it has been an institution of our oppression since its inception, black people don't owe this country a damn thing, much less our respect. Any notions of fondness or goodwill we may feel for this nation are benevolent, and honestly, it's probably for the best that we haven't been keeping score because I'm almost certain this country owes us a hell of a lot more than the mere dignity and equality we're presently demanding.
PS: If you're wondering, I'm still waiting for someone to show me Jemele Hill's lie.