Observations of an Invisible Woman

Archive for the tag “black family”

The Rise of Pornography in a White Nation and How it Affects Black Relationships

Ron Jeremy

Without sounding like I’ve been living in some underground tunnel, I never knew who Jenna Jamison and Peter North were. I remember my friend’s dad having a hidden stash of girlie magazines that he thought no one knew about and looking with horror and amazement at the *cough* flexibility of the couples. Somewhere in the corners of my young mind, I knew that such things should not be publicized for the world to see. But I never knew the significance of how it would affect the courtship of black men and women til I got older.

Listening to my girlfriends in high school share very intimate details of their experiences where they thought they were “in love” only to be discarded afterwards for another unsuspecting female, I wondered where the notion came from. Sex without love. Sex without feeling. Sex without regret. Sex for the sake of sex.

Researching this post has been eye-opening to say the least. When our African ancestors chose a mate, they chose:

1. Someone who would provide land, food, protection and comfort for their unborn children

2. Someone who had a reputable background

3. Someone that they knew and preferably grew up with

4. Someone who would be a leader, usually male, for their sons

It was deeply spiritual, intensely earthy and rooted in tradition. As I researched this post, I wondered how the world of porn ended up in our black lives and how it altered our relationships. I came up with a few sources rooted in Greek and Roman pedophilia but as I delved deeper into White AmeriKlan’s Flesh Industry, I found this:

Linda Lovelace

Deep Throat was one of the first AmeriKlan sexploitation films to have:

A plot

An actress

An actual screenplay

A production team

From that moment on, white, Christian AmeriKlan’s were introduced to a very potent drug and have never looked back. May I also point out that the porn industry coincided with the white feminist movement. Feminism or Zionism (they are one and the same) was created by the Luciferian Jew, Rockefeller, to hoodwink white women into believing that her man was her enemy. She believed, through careful indoctrination, that he was “holding her back” and sex was “rape”. Having the white woman enter the workforce to compete with men for “power and respect”, the children were left in the hands of The State to be brainwashed. Since we live in a white-dominated society, their illnesses became our illnesses. We witness white males exploiting white females on film and we aspire to do the same. What I’d like to know is, how did the black community go from being conservative with private sexual matters to this:

Montana Fishburne

For those of you that are unaware, Montana Fishburne, daughter of Larry Fishburne, decided to go the way of Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton to get “famous.” She debased herself on film with NO results. It would appear that The Divided Snakes does not reward an African female for debauchery. She was mocked, criticized and ostracized instead.

Black Family, do you think our desire to “be like them” is what contributed to the loss of black love and respect? Do you think that white flesh industry has influenced our relationships and ultimately us?  What does this say to our children in relation to sex in the name of Spiritual sanctity?

Childhood Summer

Growing up in NYC, I remember the smell of curry, honey roasted peanuts, the sight of kids riding their bikes and popping open the fire hydrant in the summer. My friends and I would take the train to Coney Island and gorged on cotton candy and hot dogs and ride the roller coasters till we got dizzy. It was my summer of innocence before the world lay waiting for me and I relished every moment of it.

I loved the Bronx Zoo…it helped me to discover my love of photography. I played with shadows and light and learned how to see God’s world through a wide-angle lens. Perhaps the summer I’ll remember the most, is the one in Brooklyn…Flatbush Avenue to be exact when my family visited my brother’s apartment.

Brooklyn, back in the day, was filled with Islanders and Africans selling silver jewelry, hats, scarves, homemade crafts of all sorts and blasting reggae music while we shopped. The sun beat down on us as we wandered throughout Flatbush Ave, noisily slurping Italian ices and honey roasted coconut we purchased for 2 dollars.

The stores were all black run. We purchased crafts, homemade shampoos, soaps and home-sewn clothing and jewelry from an African who loved to embellish tales of his prowess. I suspected his wife was the master tailor/jeweler/soap maker, but kept quiet with some amusement. Then as the evening cooled down we ate home-made Jamaican Roti with curry chicken and a fried ripe plantains and drank B&G Jamaican Cola Champagne.

As dusk cast its shadows over the Brooklyn sky, God’s earth changed from a pale blue to a reddish-orange backdrop and made the neighbourhood seem more alive through colour. Children played jump rope, jumping up and down the streets so much, I secretly wanted to join them. Old men played Dominoes with so much gusto, and slapping their knees with glee as they won a good hand, I feared they would break the little makeshift table they used. The streets came alive with the sounds and sights of our people enjoying life and I felt a deeper connection to them than I’ve ever felt before.

Then, as the night came upon us, the sound of the Mr. Softee Ice Cream Truck slowly made its lyrical tune up the heat-stricken neighbourhood…and the kids went wild with glee. I myself ran to buy a vanilla cone, which I slurped noisily and let the sticky sweetness run down my chin.

My family and I talked all night, played Jimmy Cliff and Mr. Marley while my mom perched by the window and watched the children play marbles. I fell asleep contented with the days events.

That, for me, was one of the best moments of my childhood.

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