The B.B. King Motivation
“When I close my eyes, all I see is Negress.”
Did I ever tell you that I was obsessed with B.B. King?
I used to have fantasies about meeting him in person and asking him to run away with me. Of course, he said yes.
I remember in my twenties, B.B. announced that he was going to be at Madison Square Garden in NYC. I was thrilled. Tickets were 250.00 for front row seats and I was determined to get them. I had a part time job to help pay for school and needed extra money. So I began to think of ways to earn more money. I baked cookies, brownies, pecan pies and homemade candies and sold them at school for 3.00 a slice.
Each time I heard the announcement on the radio about B.B. coming in 2 weeks, my heart fluttered and a big grin spread across my face. I worked and worked at a job that I hated taking more and more overtime, as much as possible, to earn more money to see my idol.
When the big day came, I went to TicketMaster on 42nd street and purchased my ticket.
Being in that theater, listening to B.B. wail about how some woman left him for his best friend was like standing in the middle of heaven. It was all that I had hoped for.
As I grew, my childhood actions began to come back to me as I saw more and more of the Matrix called White Supremacy.
Even at my young age, 22 to be exact, I understood that seeing my favourite singer required sacrifice.
What were those sacrifices?
Toiling at a job that I hated.
Baking 3, 4, 5 times a day in a hot kitchen to sell my chocolate chip cookies.
NOT buying any fashions, lipstick, pretty silver jewelry from the African street vendors.
ALL to achieve my goal of raising 250.00 to see B.B. cry about some cheating, two-timing whore.
What is the crux of this post?
The real reason why my people are still in this sad state of affairs is because we lack real motivation to get the fuck out.
I guarantee if the motivation was there, like free money, free sex, free beer and an all you can eat chinese buffet, we’d opt to leave white supremacy a long time ago. But we stay. Why? Because life OUTSIDE this prison is so damn scary, fending for yourself and all, you choose to stay and beg Massa not to beat you too hard today.
Most of us don’t mind getting beaten up.
Just not too much, too hard, too often.
If black people really wanted to be free, you’d do what you needed to do to accomplish it.
And you wouldn’t make excuses either.
Yesterday, I decided that I needed a new winter nightgown. I refuse to buy from the chinese who, once you come into their stores, began to speak in their language. I refuse to give my money to those money hungry pedophiles joos who are the real bosses of the united snakes. And I refuse to give arabs my cash so what did I do?
I went into my shed.
Got out a bunch of fabric scraps.
Sewed them together.
And made my own damn nightgown.
What was my motivation?
That and raw, bitter hatred for The Beast.
You need to find your own B.B. King Motivation.