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  • Writer's pictureCynthiaTruth

Click The Little Red Heart If You Agree

I'm going to say this to you now. I’m going to send it to you, and then I’m going to bury it near the bottom of the blog.

Because - and I will readily admit it – this is going to be offensive, it is going to be rude, and it's going to cause problems.

It is in response to an encounter, with someone whom, it can readily be assumed, will read this post (if she finds it), become enraged, and cripple me... somehow.

This afternoon I recorded a radio program, at a place that I thought I would be dealing with a colleague of many many years, who understood my intention in writing this blog.

A white guy named Dave.

Instead I was interviewed by the brand new, very powerful, black woman.

Therefore I say unto thee... with regard to my blog and my ideas, and the discussions on race which I try to create... never again will I ever trust a black person unknown to me, with my treasure.

I will never again approach another black person, to engage with me on my quest to improve upon the plight of people living in poverty and engaging in crime in the black community.

I will no longer endeavor to find camaraderie among my own people.

ESPECIALLY if the conversation is centered around being self-sufficient, instead of demanding that someone give us money to fix our problems.

For all eternity in time, they are going to advocate for being inadequate and dependent. On being purveyors of poverty, and being on the dole. For being satisfied with mediocrity.

(Someday I hope to have the courage to reference the big money for martyrdom comment I just thought of. But it really is .... over the line. Very very true. But still... crude, and over the line. After all, how does martyrdom tie into big money payouts?)

For all eternity in time, they are going to ignore the hope of our ancestors. Always blaming someone else for our inadequacies.

Yet all it would take, would be to commit to fully educating our kids. Too much to ask. Imagine.

This interviewer today subtly eviscerated my opinions. She read my blog prior to going in to record the interview. She came prepared to make it seem like educating black people was impossible. Like... how dare I seek a solution.

I swear to God it just doesn't make sense to me. Why do they insist on defending inferiority. I’m trying to help.

I want my people to do something that is not hard. Love learning. Focus on learning. Give up bad things. Go for the good.

You should know if you don’t. I don’t present my ideas because I want to debate or defend them. I present my ideas to broaden the conversation, and evoke deeper thought. Among thought leaders.

And I don’t present my ideas, in order to be dismissed as someone with narrow opinions and antiquated ideas.

This is how this interviewer tried to characterize me!

On Tape!

Can you imagine someone disparaging the ‘old days’, as if this twenty first century thing we're doing were going so well!

I'm done. If you cannot find a way to be proud to be black, and anxious to improve, excel, and be number one, then you are going to fail the test commonly known as 'survival of the fittest'.

I’ve already written the blog post about Poverty being Passe’. People are slowly getting quite tired of subsidizing professional mediocrity and incessant panhandling-for-prosperity.

Rich people may continue to throw us crumbs, but they're gonna keep crushing the proletariat... that my friends is where the REAL oppression lies. Growing up, my mother worked days and my grandmother and her five sisters raised me.

The youngest of the sisters had a son who became a political hero in New York City.

He was a politician and if I'm not wrong he was illiterate.

But he was re-elected so many times that they had to change the laws.

In the biggest city in the world.

His mother was the closest to me of all of my great aunts. She did my hair every morning and she was the one I talked to. She was the one who I grew to have the most in common with. And she was the most noble of the lot.

It occurred to me later in life that I received my devotion to community activism from the woman who raised a four-term New York City Councilman.

Once I understood my connection to her devotion, I understood a new part of myself. So I say this to the black people that are protecting our pervasive inferiority.


Kill me if you will.

I have bills. I drive a hooptie. I have no family, and no close people in my life.

Television is asinine. Politics are corrosive. People are mean, and self-absorbed. Religion is a sham and spirituality evades us.

I have no progeny, not enough money for food, I live in a dump and I hate dogs.

My life seems useless and my future is bleak.

My Great Aunt, whose name was Marie said that she was going to start walking the streets in her neighborhood, and telling 'these young kids' to start behaving. When I asked her if she didn't think that to be a dangerous idea for a 90 year old woman, she said that dying is dying, and doing good on the way out was not a bad way to go.

I am much more concerned with fulfilling the dreams of our ancestors, then I am concerned with what life I can salvage, at this late stage.

People died hanging from trees and much worse, so we could thrive.

Instead we are at the bottom. And sinking.

Do your worst. I stand by my values.

Black people deserve better.

If you agree I hope you will stand by me and protect me.

Please tell other people. Spread our Truth.

My detractors are about to launch. I could lose everything.

Someone will need to speak up and say I'm not wrong.

If you still believe we are oppressed and someone owes us something,


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