r/BlackHistory

Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin co-authored the line: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal..."

Yet equality remains an elusive ideal 250 years after they wrote it down. And, America, I think we should still make that a reality.

I hope it's self-evident that black people really are just looking for equality and not revenge--to paraphrase the immortal words of Kimberly Jones. Look at all the race massacres in the last 250 years and you'll see that we have a clean record. (Except for that one time when Nat Turner had to bust a move.)

In the next 250 years, we will continue to demand and fight for equal opportunity, equal justice, and equal treatment for all. Even it feels like "reverse discrimination" to some of your citizens.

But.

It.

Ain't.

In the antebellum South, the 4th of July was basically a whites-only holiday.

White folks celebrated their freedom with a drunken intensity, shooting off guns, and wrapping themselves in "liberty" while actively holding human beings in chains.

For free Black communities, participating in these celebrations was very dangerous. Any display of Black patriotism was viewed as a threat and met with instant violence. In Cincinnati, Philadelphia, and Boston, white mobs wielding bricks routinely attacked free Black citizens who dared to celebrate America.

So, Black Americans pivoted. They refused to celebrate on the 4th.

Instead, they claimed July 5th to observe their freedom. They also celebrated on other dates, like January 1st (the banning of the transatlantic slave trade) and August 1st (the British abolition of slavery in the West Indies) as true Black Independence Days.

July 4th was observed as a day of protest, so much so that Nat Turner originally planned his 1831 rebellion on Independence Day, looking to strike when the enslavers were distracted and drunk. The only reason it didn't happen is because Turner fell ill, forcing him to delay the strike until August.

Black folks always understood the white hypocrisy of the holiday, and some were willing to expose it in blood.

(Note: I run Black history project and just wrote a article on what happened next, how Black folks actually took over the 4th of July during Reconstruction, and how white folks violently stole it back check out "The Lie of the Fourth" )

https://onemicblackhistorypodcast.substack.com/p/the-lie-of-the-fourth

The "Double V" campaign was initiated by the Pittsburgh Courier in 1942 signifying victory abroad and victory at home. This became a symbol pride and honor for Black American women and men who sacrificed abroad during the ravages of war only to face prejudice back in a country they gave so much for. We will not let their legacies die and as one body, one sound, one soul we will achieve victory against racism if we do not surrender.

“Having escaped a French colony in Latin America, Pierre Alexandre fled to Sweden. He worked in the harbors and, when the docks froze over in the winter, modeled at the art academy. Alexandre may have been the only Black person many of the art students knew. They often used costumes and props to cast him in exotic poses.

But in this portrait, young Karin Bergöö, one of the few women students at the academy, captures Alexandre's individuality. Because he is close to the picture plane, he feels physically present, even if his far-off gaze suggests his mind is elsewhere.”

(Currently hanging in the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, USA)

Some of you may read this and say "well of course it is we all know that" other may read it and say "what the hell are you talking about"

While tipping in general was not originally based on racism I think it is evident that U.S tipping culture is. What do you think?

Also did you know that the minimum wage for tipped jobs is only $2.13 in all but 7 states.

For more information read, U.S Tipping Culture Is Rooted In Racism

Artwork- Kwaku Ntow

My brother, I cannot fully relate to the constraints you endured during your time on earth, yet your reflection and spirit stretched far beyond those bars and continue to fly today. I remember being thrown behind those same walls, the tightening of cuffs meant to constrain my message since they could not constrain my voice. I remember feeling like a piece of property, a possession of the state. Those were my earlier years, arrested for protesting.

I believe that was when the journey, the urge for self knowledge, began. I was filled with questions, but more importantly with a hunger for solutions. That fire was fueled by something we both share, a love for our people and a need to see change. Not just a desire, but a necessity. Only recently have I begun putting my words and thoughts on paper and relaying them to our people.

For this reason, I consider it both an honor and a privilege, and a learning opportunity, to share this stage with you.

The system

You exposed the systemic oppression of the state to the people right under their noses. It is no secret that fascism, whether enforced militantly or politically, exists to keep power in certain hands. If you did not believe in reform then, it is hard to imagine where we stand now. So called democratic efforts keep falling on deaf ears, offering only false sympathy. Too often we are baited into savior hopes, like Dr King’s dream, which never came true and may be farther away now than it was then.

This belief and hope in reform has pushed our generation into a whirlwind of hope paired with prayer that becomes an excuse, restraining us from real action. Instead of trying to restructure a system that was never framed for us, my passion has grown from the examples of self sufficiency advocates.

Marcus Garvey often pointed to the over 20 million in the diaspora in the 1920s and their potential. That number has multiplied more than tenfold, yet we remain unaware of our power and opportunity to achieve without relying on outside sources.

This truth extends to the hood, to impoverished Black communities, to rural towns, anywhere potential exists but examples of work turning into reward are hidden. Inward lie the numbers and resources to forge the solutions, justice, and future we demand today. The question remains, what are we doing toward the ultimate goal. How can we commit ourselves selflessly to the greater whole.

This action and mindset is the first step toward reclaiming pride in our race. When one selfless person is joined by another, the results double, and keep doubling, until change becomes inevitable, happening without needing to be seen and impossible to deny.

Militancy and defense

Militancy and discipline go hand in hand. I learned that from the influence you had with the brothers locked inside with you. The so called violent savages, according to outside society, showed and promoted unity and structure in the face of oppression and control. But that only came through education. The mind is the first tool of militancy, the ability to make informed decisions built on thought rather than emotion. Though the loss of you and your strong willed brother saddens me, the tools you left behind still lie in the hearts and minds of militants today.

Kobrani, the sacred art of defense in Tokanji culture, was built off principles of Kulanshi ancestors like yourself. Our core centers on protecting the Black family, which has been the target of every attempt to destroy our existence. Broken homes, lost bloodlines through slavery, systemic operations, all have played a role in weakening the Black family’s impact on our survival today. Kobrani is how we turn the wheel back in the right direction, our feet pressed firmly on the gas. It is the sacred duty to prepare and, when the moment demands, to protect our bloodlines at all cost.

This begins with our men but must live through us all. We have to ignore the stereotypes culture has branded on our skin. Black men must recommit to protecting Black women and child. Part of that responsibility is that every Black man must be armed and experienced with his tools. Not only because it is our legal right, which we should express openly, but to show examples in our communities, proof of self sufficient protection. Moments where our people can feel safe among themselves again.

Protection of the collective does not stop there. Every woman, and every child once of proper age, must be trained in the art of protection. This begins as a sacred responsibility taught in childhood and passed down through generations so the past never repeats, and if it does, we are prepared. Young men, though society sees them as children, must be molded into manhood in their teen years. Young women must learn the art of protection, trained in militant techniques while still holding their motherhood character, nurturers of our society.

This is not just change. This is growth, growing the mind into a state of love among each other again, no longer automatically seeing someone who looks like us as an enemy, but accepting the duty of the collective. That if a threat intrudes, they must get through the men, the women, and, if necessary, even the child. Our commitment becomes so deep out of compassion for ancestors like you and all who sacrificed.

To remain in the best position of defense, we have to learn, practice, and educate ourselves daily. As the world grows, we must grow. Comfort keeps us behind. Protection is something we must stay ahead in. Never let society paint the picture for us. Kulanshi ancestors like you, Robert F Williams, Huey P Newton, and others were labeled violent for your stance on protection. In truth, it was Kobrani, the sacred duty placed on us all.

Unity amongst the walls

As we recap from the sacred duty of protecting the Black family, something we both saw as sacred, I have to express to you the need for the unity you established then, right now. Unity among Black men continues to appear mainly when they are in chains, behind walls, with no other choice.

Selfless leadership is the best leadership. Too often we get caught up in titles or recognition. When you were caged at eighteen, your concern was the people themselves and the urge to bring change. People followed you out of respect, not demand, yet you kept structure and order. That loyalty and commitment brought unity among the brothers, uniting them around one cause, one purpose, one set of principles. Your letters flew beyond prison walls with this same message. The unity among our people then seemed stronger than now.

The systems that be have placed us in an internal war, and I cry to the Kulanshi for assistance. Gangs formed as resistance to protect our people now ultimately destroy our people. This is not an attack on the gang member himself, but even they must face the reality of what has become of us. We kill, take, and steal from each other because all other options have been stripped away. Then, when we end up behind the wall, when sentences come down like hammers and judgment is placed on our lives, only then do some of us learn about you, if we are lucky. Education is where we keep missing the ball. It must begin at birth.

Behind the wall, opposing enemies who have spilled blood against each other, who carry hate and long term vengeance, still end up setting differences aside and committing to the mass. Why must that form of unity only come when they lock away the keys.

This is a bridge we have to cross urgently. If not, there will be none of us left. What I have learned is the priority of healing. There can be no unity outside the walls until we present healing stations for our people to take up this work and mindset. Inside, stripped of life by the prison system, men are forced to heal or suppress, forced into survival instincts to just fall in line. Outside, we suppress and fall in line in other survival modes. It is unorthodox for us to heal. We have never truly healed. Yet through healing, through our own conception, through confronting systemic oppression, we can turn the wheel of the

internal war I describe as genocide.

The sense of Black pride, brothers standing in unity, large cookouts, Black love filling the streets, has been replaced by drivebys at those cookouts, where youth and innocents become unintended targets. Fear walks our streets. Fear to show love on them. Fear even of our own skin. Unity is needed more than ever.

You were right about the group that can bring unity the fastest and in its purest form, the hood itself, the streets, the same ones committing the acts. They are the keys to unlock the doors of the change we need. I refuse to be a victim who accepts that this is how it will always be. Through the work of the ancestors and our efforts today, things will change. There is no time better than now.

Prisons and fatherhood

For everything you gave the people, I think about everything they stole from you. Caged at eighteen, you were never granted the opportunity to have children to continue your bloodline. So we carry your bloodline in our hearts everywhere. You still generated and established strong Black men, men who took on and accepted responsibility and accountability. These are the essence of Black fatherhood, the core principles of our grandfathers.

The prison system that held you stripped fathers from the home one by one. Then systems and agencies came disguised as assistance, removing our role as Black fathers and replacing it with dependency on the same system that entraps us. This becomes possible when our educators do not look like us, which is why I stand strong on education beginning at birth, by us ourselves.

Today, as generations pass, the number of active Black fathers decreases. We still have fathers fighting on two fronts, those blessed to be in the home leading with their queen, and those who co parent, refusing to be ghosts though not with the mother of their seed. Society will tell you Black fathers do not exist. Many Black women pride themselves on surviving alone, raising sons and daughters without the presence of their own fathers. Many fathers, themselves byproducts of single mother homes, abandon responsibilities, continuing the cycle like a cancer.

This is the battlefield of the Black family today. Like being dropped into Vietnam, a Black man with nothing familiar around him and everything against him. Where is the purpose.

Yet we few still hold the line, and we fight to restore Black fatherhood. That starts with recognizing ourselves and our bloodlines as sacred. What happened before you is not your fault. What happens after you is in your hands. Black men must understand this. When fatherhood arrives, we must jump into the calling. Our survival depends on it.

We must fill gaps of inexperience with brotherhood.

This builds a bond through work, a sacred bond. Elder fathers can mentor younger fathers. Young fathers can learn and build from one another. Presence alone is half the battle. It tears down the stereotype of absence.

Black women have their own work in restoring Black fatherhood. That includes healing from the absence of their fathers or from conditions with the father of their children now. You are the creators of us. There can be no restoration without you.

This is sacred work of Tanzafoka, a Tokanji principle meaning turning distortion into power. Everything built or labeled against us must be turned into fuel. Stereotypes alone among Black men and women around parenthood should be enough to start resistance.

Fatherhood must become collective work, brothers uniting to carry the load of absent fathers. The village must be built first. We cannot rely on women alone to build strong Black men. We have our own commitment to brotherhood and legacy.

Black on Black violence

I regret to report that a war has started among ourselves. As I write, young Black men are probably plotting to take each other’s lives or already doing so. Hear my cries as this paper bleeds the way our blood bleeds onto the streets.

I believe you and all the Kulanshi cry for the war we endure. If there are heaven’s gates, the lines are backed up with our youth, youth who should be having families and raising children. That is our reality. Your efforts brought unity against the state and systems of control that created these conditions. Yet those messages have been buried, hidden like the tombs of Egypt.

When the drill wave came, at first I thought it was just music. Nobody realized it was the war horn of genocide. Young artists began making music about hurting each other as far back as the 90s. In the 2000s it normalized. Now it is the staple, the heartbeat of our musical culture, followed by actions in the streets.

Our youth are not killing each other for territory or for money. They are killing for a name, for clout, with no one warning them of consequences until it is too late. No father to give discipline and guidance. The streets themselves have even lost control, no structure, just chaos masquerading as survival. And we do not even own the music that fuels this cycle. The system profits off Black death. This is the battlefield.

I still cannot deny the truth, the music is part of our culture. I refuse to deny what shapes our identity. Across the diaspora, music has always been more than violence, it is therapy for stress, the sound of family events, the soundtrack of friends, the rhythm that binds us. Through struggle we have always turned assets into survival. History shows we make beauty out of pain.

But it is our responsibility to define the meaning of our culture. We must stop letting narratives be forced on us and begin telling our own stories. The businessman, the nurse, the social worker listens to Boosie just as much as the streets. So is it the music, or the collective.

This is Tanzafoka again, taking what was meant to destroy us and using it as fuel to build us.

Music must become the bridge to what the Bloodline is destined to be. Instead of destroying bloodlines, restoring them. English words of hate over beats must be transformed into Tokanji conversations of love, unity, and fellowship, especially during 808náshira sessions where we play this music, praise and connect with ancestors, uncensored, unfiltered. That becomes the new norm, where we freely exist as ourselves.

Some Kulanshi might close their ears and shake their heads at our culture today. I urge you to ask about our principles and meaning. Because this way works. It is authentically us. The culture is the culture, but we do not have to live out the destruction in it. This is where we turn the wheel. If we show visible examples of unity through culture instead of hate, we can restore bloodlines. That alone is sacred work.

Resistance from birth

We are behind in the eyes of the ancestors who paved the way. As a result, resistance must begin earlier, from birth. The first form of this resistance is restoring the village, creating a natural habitat for our youth that resembles us again. Before colonization gets its chance to grab our lineage, our children must already be prepared.

It is each family’s responsibility to make this readiness through education. We should not be hearing names and roles of Kulanshi ancestors like you for the first time at forty. Children should learn these names at four, five, six. Resetting mindsets will reset generations.

This sacred duty can only be accomplished by us. Outside influences have shown they can destroy, dilute, or diminish our identity. The construction stages of rebuilding communities must be done from the inside out, relying on Zanáfamu to do our part for the greater goal. To see our contribution, big or small, as sacred duty.

Resistance stages never have to be large. If everyone does a little, a lot is accomplished. Our younger lineage deserves protected spaces to learn their culture before being handed to modern society. If school begins at a primary age, then resistance for us must begin at birth.

Digital education

Your letters will always be powerful, carrying messages that still weigh heavy today. Yet in this time, where media is consumed in seconds, our approach has to go beyond pen and paper.

The first requirement is to reclaim our stake in national identity by race. Whenever one of us claims to be focused on our race or prioritizes a Black focus above all, we are attacked, called racist or self serving. How ironic. In your time this unapologetic tone was normal. Tánari is the sacred work of bringing that aura back. Black, across the diaspora, an unapologetic sense of identity and pride.

Digital media is the first battlefield. It is where we must restore shows that once represented us but were stripped away. Cartoons that look like us. Heroes with our features. Stories, news, and history told from our lens as standard. Our children deserve these models. Without them, the models placed before them rob confidence.

Tánari is the sacred work to ensure that confidence never fades.

Religion and unity

I am sure that behind the walls, in your circle, different religions were present. Some Christian, some Muslim, and some whose only religion was the duty owed to ancestors and people.

For Zanáfamu to work, religion must be set aside in matters of unity. It has long been a divisive mark among our tribe. Tánari prioritizes Black over all religious standings. If your religion requires you to put anything above the existence of our people, then I urge you to question it.

The Bloodline is woven from grandmothers’ prayers, from teachings in mosques where Malcolm stood, from Garvey’s Orthodox church, all in one. It leaves space for those picking their own path. In the end, we all share the same melanin. Our ancestors bled the same blood since the beginning, and we have all faced similar challenges.

This is where we must turn the wheel. To refuse classification by anything less than Black is Tánari. It is reclaiming identity. No other nation has a single religious background, but we are the only ones letting it divide us from the ultimate goal. How has that worked for us so far.

We will still write letters

As the journey continues, we embrace it. Each step and challenge is a lesson. No matter how advanced technology becomes, I will still take time with pen and paper to write to you. Sometimes out of anger, sometimes joy, sometimes fear.

Our similarities and differences are what make us special in the diaspora. We honor the path you paved for us, brother. Keep watch as we walk this path.

May the ancestors guide and protect us always.

Chuck King