Ivies Don't Need Our Help

This blog post is a response to my President David Wilson's article here.

For context, my name is Jeremy Collins. I am a Junior at Morgan State University majoring in Screenwriting and Animation. Morgan State University wasn't my first choice....nor was it my last. I got in on a decision day in early July after my own college plan sidelined. I got accepted to the University of Maryland College Park's Computer Science program and intended to transfer there after getting credits at a Baltimore community college due to the unaffordable Out-Of-State tuition (I'm from South Carolina). That didn't quite work out the way I planned so I ended up here, at Morgan, and my life changed for the better. 

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1. Maybe Towson or Loyola could use our help a bit more.

I was cold waiting outside of a large building on Charles Street when my Twitter timeline erupted about the protest at Towson University. Black students were sitting in their President's Office with a list of demands about accountability and representation, daring not to move until they were acknowledged. Mizzou had just happened, so with a sense of urgency, I texted my friends asking if we could pool together money to get food for those brave students inside. We were all so quick and ready to mobilize to take pictures in solidarity for Mizzou, but what about when things happen right in our city (or Metropolitan Area to be more correct). Fortunately, they ended up getting food and drinks to get them through, but not from us, as the people I contacted weren't as urgent as I thought they would've been. It would've been a good time then for Morgan to be helpful and suggestive, both from students and administration. But Twitter fingers and hashtag activism don't always translate well to real life work.

2. How exactly does this solve the problem rooted in a culture of white supremacy?

What Dr. Wilson proposes seems to be a short-term bandage, if even a bandage at all. In what way does having students from Morgan State at Yale for a semester challenge the issues of diversity? Morgan Students don't need a semester at Yale to experience the culture of elite whiteness. Hopkins is a but a few stops on the 3 Bus line and 1 stop taking the Collegetown Shuttle.  

Dr. Wilson suggests that the experiences would be transformational, but I argue that it would not.

If white students and white faculty want to seek inclusiveness, maybe they should pay attention to their Black students and their Black faculty. If white colleges really seek to be more inclusive it will require actual work, actual confrontation of ideas and beliefs. There are many things that step in the way of that: white entitlement, white fear, and white tears. Just look at the BlackTwitter hashtag #StayMadAbby. The process of coming to terms with that requires a lot of internal struggle. It's a process - one that won't be solved because you have two more Black students in your class than you had yesterday.  

3. Why should we be participating in the outsourcing of jobs when there are well qualified candidates for these positions?

Morgan shouldn't have to feed Yale, Harvard, or any of the Ivy League institutions good talent when there's plenty of it right here. There's enough Black academics out here who could fill those spaces long-term. It would require, again, that these institutions do actual work.

4. Is this article about HBCUs or is it about Morgan?

I'll be honest. The way the article centers Morgan State, and not HBCUs as a whole, bothers me. I read the article several times trying to find mention of any other HBCU outside of Morgan, but I couldn't. I just had to wonder what

 I love Morgan, but I love Coppin too. I love Howard. I love Morehouse. I love Spelman. I love FAMU. Half of these institutions I've never visited. Why do I love them? If I don't love these institutions the way I love my own, we all lose. Black institutions can't afford to not hug each other and love each other and support each other.

It's already bad enough that people are asking if HBCUs are still relevant in a world of #BlackOnCampus. In fact, our own Black President has seemed to question the relevancy and effectiveness of HBCUs. In his glaring critique of HBCU success - ranging from lack of alumni support and flimsy governmental support - our President seems to not understand the value of the HBCU outside of a monetary view, underpaying the cultural and historical significance.

With that being said, if one falls, we all fall. Anti-Blackness is not selective, and thus we don't need to try to be selected. Looking at the Black elite's response to racism, we can see that within our own class bubbles Black people still don't receive the same treatment. The merits, just like the humanity, of Black people are always question. Instead of trying to be the answer to the question, let's change the conversation and challenge the question.

5. DO we have the resources?

Continuing on the idea before, why does it seem we have a very white-centered view of success? So many of us have "reach the top" aspirations, neglecting the people who may not have had the resources to climb the ladder in the first place. Morgan State University is not my idea of an elite Black institution. Morgan doesn't look like a Black Yale or a Black Columbia or a Black Dartmouth. I'm fine with that. I have my own critique of the Black Professional class that will come at a later time, but I think we are doing fine grooming the students we have. 

We also have to look at the type of students that attend these schools. Someone who's paying for a Brown education and used to Brown resources probably wouldn't want to spend a semester at Morgan. And a Morgan student suddenly immersed in Brown's resources probably wouldn't want to come back. This is not to say that Morgan or any other HBCU is inadequate, but we do need to take an honest look at the disparities between Black colleges and elite White Institutions and a look at the history that made such. Again, confrontation. People will be uncomfortable. People will have to question and challenge their privilege. It's not going to be easy. But I can imagine the people who were shut out of these institutions would say their life hasn't been easy as well.

Whatever it takes, a simple exchange program will not change what has been taught from early on. Let's get back to the drawing board.

HIP HOP + JEremy, a brief introduction

Just Tuesday night, on January 26th, my poetry club family and I decided we were going to do our own rendition of Trap Karaoke, an event that's been growing popular in several cities across the countries. We had speakers, music, and enough songs to __. I sat on the couch like the cousin that nobody hugs at family reunions. 

I clearly don't have much experience with Hip Hop. The biggest rappers I listen to are Azealia Banks, Kendrick, Chance, and Kanye. I'm a fan of Theophilus London and Junglepussy as well. But for the most part, I hardly listen to hip hop. It's not that I don't listen to it. To put it in perspective, I listen to Florence + the Machine, FKA twigs, and other artists that kids who paint their faces in the name of "aesthetic" would listen to. I did go to a Raury concert not just once, but twice! And I enjoyed it. See, I'm borderline hip hop!

But, with hip hop being a constant voice and movement in places where most people look like me, it'd be hard to ignore the significance and relevance. Thus, my poetry club fam and I will love to get together and have random cyphers. For one of our events last year we had a rap battle that actually got pretty intense. 

I found hip hop, and connecting with my people, important enough to read about it's history and relation to history. Dr. Jared Ball had a brilliant lecture that I watched on YouTube. There's also an amazing work called "How Capitalism Under-Developed Hip Hop" that was a great read. Although I didn't know much about Tupac, I felt his passion and strength through his political prowess.

As a poet, the skill of wordplay is very powerful, especially in performance pieces. Using words as tools of communication and rebellion is the biggest thing we can do for the revolution we need. Freedom isn't just for those with the ability to perform whiteness, but for everyone. 

still fighting. teaching love

Constant. Rage. My literary father, James Baldwin, said it.

I live in the age of #BlackLivesMatter. I also live in an age where we are deciding whether or not to take down Confederate monuments. 

It's hard. What people don't seem to understand about racism is just how major the devaluing of Black life is. We see it in Flint with the poisoning of water. We've seen it with Katrina. We've even seen it in our fight for reparations, where the "radical" economic justice candidate can't even deliver justice to one of the most oppressed populations on this imperial settler colony. 

I just came from New York City. Just yesterday, I was minding my business in Washington Square Park when I was approached by a group of people with a camera. I was interviewed for a webseries on complexities. When prompted the question about my own complexities, I took a minute to think exactly what I wanted to say. I had a lot on my mind, from Baltimore, to activism, to being a writer. A lot. 

But I took the time to unpack a lot of stress about being young, Black, and working class. If the interview gets posted, great. If not, it was a much needed statement from myself. Just hearing the words come out of my mouth felt therapeutic. 

I have to wonder, how much fighting we got to do? Will we be fighting for reparations on Saturn Colony II in 2154? I can imagine, in the days where space travel is common, little Black kids sitting outside on a stoop knowing they'll never see the world from space. The battle against white supremacy and the anti-Blackness woven into our culture will never cease to exist. And my arms are tired. 

Tired of thinking about those with "unmarketable" names not getting callbacks. Tired of walking past homeless people in a city where entire streets need to be demolished. Tired of faking the image of someone who's okay. Tired of thinking about alternative pasts and how people vilify those who would've had my behind enslaved. Tired of the prosperity gospel that tells me to pray harder as if I hadn't had generations praying for my soul. My freedom. If I pray any harder I'll end up looking like FKA twigs' on her M3LL155X cover. (I love FKA twigs).

I'm fighting. I'm taking punches I can't see. My eyes are swollen and my arms are tired, but my body tells me, in the voice of Precious, my grandmother "Boy you better keep going." I hear her words in my fingers that write this blog post. In my fingers I find resistance and revolution, sizzling like a fresh Ginger Ale on a Sunday afternoon in mid July.  Fre

I'm still fighting because I know love. My grandma taught me love. My teachers taught me love. My mother taught me love too. Each individual taught me love and worth in another way, but it was all love, and it is all the reason I'm in such predicament. 

Because I know the value of my Blackness, I can't stand seeing others who may not and thus, I tell them. In one poem, I wrote the line "I become modern day abolitionist" because there's something noble and purposeful about being an abolitionist. I owe them - the Harriet Tubmans, the John Browns - my gratitude, for my freedom. But the abolitionist movement is not yet done. Not when an entire system is built off of the criminalization of your people, throwing them in jails where slavery is still legal by the same amendment that was supposed to set you free.

But I know this because of love. Love makes me the mother lion fighting to the death for her cubs. Love keeps me on this Underground Railroad where I sneak in tidbits about Black radicalism in my daily conversations with young folk. Love keeps me healthy. Love keeps me human. And that's all it is. Love and pain. Pain at the dirty water in Flint Michigan. Pain at the amount of youth that would've been served better by recreational centers than juvenile prisons. Pain for the unskilled worker who's merit is challenged on the same land while the descendants of the enslaved still haven't received their check. Pain at those who lost homes in Rosewood, Tulsa, Philly, and Seneca Village. Pain for anyone on the mother continent that could've been my cousin. Pain for the enslaved mother who saw her son get sold, only to never see him again. Pain for her and the grandchildren she may never know. 

But at the end of the day, through this cycle of joy and hurt - the Black American experience for some - I'm still fighting. Teaching love the same way my grandma, mother, teachers, friends, and ancestors taught me. 

You Ever Read A Book About Yourself? - On Writing Technique and Grandmas

My professor, A.J Verdelle, and I exchanged books. I gave her Buck by MK Asante and she gave me her own, a literary classic and praised by Toni Morrison, The Good Negress. I secretly hope she gives me this copy; she can have Buck. I also hope to one day give her a copy of my own book. 

I'm on page 94. I've read the inside jacket, the acknowledgements, and the praise on the back of the book. I think about the age of the work. It's as old as I am. Incredible. But even more, I think about the object. The book. And to think my professor is the author of the book. These words are hers, and not to diminish the work of editors or others, but her name is on the front. This is her work. Neesy, Margarete, and Luke edward are hers. Big Jim and Dana are hers. Even Lontz (one of my favorite parts right now) is hers. My professor would probably tell me "It's not mine anymore. The work is published." I can the conversation; I'd be sitting in her office on the second floor of Holmes Hall, and she'd be behind the desk glancing between her screen and me. But I'd still think its hers.

You ever read a book about yourself? You ever felt so close to a character that you feel you can predict their next move, not because you know them, but because you are them?

I might be Neesy. 

I was born in South Carolina and was raised by my grandmother. I did spend some time up North, in Baltimore where I currently live, with my mother and little brother, but most of my life is centered in the small town of Florence, South Carolina. Neesy was also Southern, raised by her own grandmother in Virginia, until the calling came for her to come back to Detroit to help her mom with a new baby. Neesy's grandma is my grandma. I not only picture the feeling of being snatched away from her Virginia home, but I feel it, not in my heart, but in my soul. I shiver. The feeling is all too familiar. I see Grandma's back porch and a car outside, and I see her standing there, waiting for the call to pull off, and I see the car and dirt under it as it pulls out of the clay road driveway. I see the long roads without lights. Growing up, I never thought it weird. But my three days in South Carolina, riding from Florence to Hemingway with only a car light to guide, the experience felt surreal. And dangerous. This is the broke Black South for you. 

When I see Neesy at the parade, I see myself, all big, Black and Jeremy, at the parade. I see purple and gold streamers. Old cars and happy Black people just loving themselves and loving their alma mater. This is the Wilson High School homecoming parade. Wilson was a mostly Black school. An annual event in Florence, people come from across the country to celebrate at one of the biggest and Blackest events in the area. Both my mom and my aunt are Wilsonians. Wilsonians are some of the proudest people you'll ever meet.

On page 81, Neesy describes Luke edward and his relationship to Granma'am. This part was the part that inspired me to write this piece. Between this page and the one before it, my soul ached and my heart heaved. My grandma was 48 when I was born. She'll be 68 this year. I remember a time before she held on to things for support. I remember a time before I was able to reminisce about things. I remember a time when getting from the truck to the door wasn't so long as it is now. I remember when arthritis was only a word I knew, not the pain and the effort I currently see now. The book made me want to call up my grandma and paint the house. As much as I am Neesy, I can be a Luke edward too; at least in that sense.

This is life. 

Neesy as a character is young, curious, and assertive. To be written in such a way requires a level of talent and technique that merits "Truly extraordinary" from Toni Morrison. The level of characterization and the precise placement of punctuation reminded me of the power of words. 

In the power of words, there's several things I'll always remember from my professor including: circling your verbs, writing in scenes, thinking about objects, and starting from the ground up. As I write Mitch, I now understand that I absolutely must read it aloud before submitting it anywhere. Beyond finding out grammar mistakes, I'm sure I'll find flaws in the rhythm of the words. It'll also help me deliver pregnant, as my professor calls them, places. 

You ever read a book about yourself? You ever read about yourself so rawly, you had to close the book and just think. On page 94, I thought about what I'd read and decided to write a blog post. I love to write. I love to read. I'm learning how to write about what I read as professor told me I should. So far, it's been fun. 

The Art of A Beautiful Trailer, Storytelling, and Rows

I will begin my critique with this disclaimer:  David Warfield, director and writer of Rows,  is a professor of mine at Morgan State University. 

There's an art to making a cinematic and effective trailer without giving much of the plot away or without giving all the best scenes. Some trailers spoil the film, and some trailers just can't seem to present anything enticing.

I was invited to a film screening a classmate of mine, Gus, was hosting the weekend before finals. Although Papa Johns would've sufficed, Gus ordered pizza from Two Boots, a pizzeria located in Mt. Royal, and bought the movie on iTunes. From the trailer presented in class, I just knew the film was going to be about some insane killer. Using enough quick cuts to make the eye go crazy, we get various scenes of murder, white girls once again going places they probably shouldn't, and big mysterious houses that might as well say "Enter and Die." 

But, the film is none of that. 

And the film is all of that. All at the same time. 

Rows takes the normal suspense film and puts a remarkably conceptual twist on it. It's almost as if Warfield invoked Rod Serling and couldn't sleep so he wrote a movie. We meet Rose (Hannah Schick), a woman who's father tasks her to give an eviction notice to an older woman in a scary house. Rose meets the woman to deliver the papers, and, stupidly, takes a treat from her with causes her to hallucinate. From this point on, the movie starts getting interesting as Rose, her friend Greta (Lauren Lakis), and other characters begin in this wild adventure surrounding the rows of cornfield around the house. 

Understanding the movie really takes watching the whole thing closely and carefully. The visual concept of the film is stunning, with the backdrop of the endless cornfield trapping the viewer both visually and emotionally. The movie seemed to be more focused on the storytelling than deep character development, but the characters do play a strong part in the storytelling of the film. But if anything, the film, like the trailer, represented a wonderful craft in saying what needs to be said without saying too much. The dialogue is effective and the exposition is handled with finesse. Its a lesson in saying the most while writing the least, making the film a visually satisfying piece. There's not even a lot of action, but the suspense and the buildup keeps the engagement. What's happening to Rose? What's with the cornfield? Why hasn't Rose killed Greta, considering the many opportunities to do so?

Warfield's Rows uses suspense and surrealism to tell an intriguing story of why you shouldn't evict old ladies who live alone in old houses. Or maybe it's a story in why you should probably reconsider your father's advice when he tells you to face your fears. Either way, the film and the trailer represent a careful attention to dialogue and storytelling, which is what film must be about, otherwise it's a cinematography reel. 

Visit the website for the movie here.

We Gon' Talk About Race

I love to read.

This blog post comes after my stomach dropped at such a disturbing article . This is the post I'm talking about. Written by former classmate of mine, HD Stone, it is a response to another student's post talking about race. Another student at Wofford responded to Stone's post, but the response was rather general and didn't really ask questions to engage critical thinking. I'm interested in engaging on a personal level, using history, experiences, and statistics to have a meaningful dialogue on Black folks. 

I love quotes. My love for quotes might be number twelve on a list of Top 103 Things Jeremy Likes. That's a good spot to be on such a list. With my love of quotes, and context, I'll pull out some troubling statements in the article and try to dissect them. 

1. "Freedom of speech, other constitutional rights, and the heretofore pillars of higher education take a back seat to this “inclusion and diversity” rhetoric and the implementation of leveling curriculums that will no doubt contribute to the stagnation, and closing of the American mind"

This is a very interesting quote, only because it purports that diversity and inclusion are anti-"freeze peach". In fact, I love when Within the context of the article, the author seems to be referencing the protests that have been happening all across the country where students are demanding more representation in faculty, more awareness of issues, and more cultural tolerance.

I have to question the author's true passion for "freeze peach" considering he was very silent when the #BlackLivesMatter protestor was beaten and bloodied for using his right to "freeze peach" at a Trump rally. I guess "freeze peach" only matters when it's not endangering your privilege. 

2. "Here’s an idea for all of you:  educate yourself on real things. Read Aristotle, read Plato, really examine the tenets of America which make it so great. We live in a meritocracy that clearly advocates a certain way of life; yet, so many deviate away from this grand vision and advocate for this utopic, egalitarian society."

"Educate yourself on real things." just may be the one thing to make the most sense in this whole essay. Honestly. The rest of it just makes me shake my head in disbelief and wonder how can someone be so scholarly and so removed from society. 

"We live in a meritocracy".........so you gonna advocate for reparations from slavery or nah? I'll wait on your petition. Or maybe you don't think slavery happened?  Or maybe you never considered the stress that comes from working around people who you suspect may secretly hate you. If white people have to deal with that sort of stress, please let me know. Maybe I'm wrong. If so, I can be accountable for my mistakes and learn from them. 

But back to this fallacy of meritocracy. Living in a meritocracy would demand an egalitarian society, would it not? Meritocracy negates the truth of benefit that connections, wealth, and societal privilege bring. Sorry Stone, your privilege is not earned. We live in a meritocracy, but minimum wage has stagnated while productivity has increased and the cost of living has gone up? 

But let's assume we live in a meritocracy. Great. Technology continues to make certain jobs obsolete, so what happens to those people put out of work? Is their humanity diminished due to there not being jobs for them? Does their need to eat, drink, and survive suddenly go away because technology took their job? 

3."If we truly want to transcend the tyrannical and backward clutches of identity politics as DuBois clearly advocates, we must abandon identities rooted in things beyond America."

For context, Stone uses DuBois' quote that reads: “The problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color line.” Ironically, Stone agrees. But it seems he misses the point. But it is with this quote that really drives the fury embedded within the article, mostly because of the "Martin Luther King" effect of taking a quote or person out of context. If DuBois was able to see this rotten use of his quote, he'd probable have an asthma attack from the amount of breath lost in one sigh. 

Stone, however, is correct in saying that race identity is beyond America. People who pay attention can look at how European colonialism has taken the world by storm. 

He also puts the onus to letting go of race politics on Black people as if Black people started this race problem. Just in case you forgot, I'll start off with a list of things that Black people didn't do.

- Hop on a ship voluntarily and come to the "New World"

- Break apart our own families and sell our children into slavery to become hard labor. (see Harriet Jacobs' slave narrative)

- Codify laws to keep each other from speaking to one another or getting an education or getting loans from federal housing funds to buy property and build wealth. (see redlining)

- Hang each other on trees in post-Reconstruction America. (see Ida B. Wells and lynching)

- Ask police to kill us unarmed and extrajudicially, forgetting the Constitutional right to due process.

Instead of telling Black people to "get over it" - as conservatives love to do - maybe he should fight with us. He should gather his friends and family and take them to anti-racist training. Why doesn't he tell his Egg-Avi Twitter friends to look deeper into #BlackLivesMatter instead of trolling?

But of course, this article shows a clear lack of understanding. Stone doesn't have to be cautious of every step he takes in the eye of police. Stone doesn't have to make trips to the library to read books on the criminalization of white folk. Stone doesn't have to look up symbols that represent the fight for his freedom. Stone doesn't have to feel unwelcome in this country, nor does he have any reason to. Stone doesn't have to go to community healing sessions to cope with the trauma that is existing in this country. Stone doesn't have to channel surf looking for representation and people like himself.  

But that's my reality. 

I swear, all this energy Stone had put into this article to tell Black folks to "stop being whiny crybabies" might've been able to eradicate racism, had it been used productively. But alas, Stone's article is less about productivity and progression and more about distancing himself from and protecting privilege - including his own in being a white, straight, and relatively wealthy male.  I must ask, why is it so hard for conservatives to acknowledge the problems of Black people and other minorities without insulting them? 

But at this point, I digress. There were definitely more quotes worth pulling out, but then I'd spoil the article. Besides, as a writer myself, I know certain page hits would be appreciated, so go take a look if you must and decide for yourself. The link is at the top.

Let's keep talking.