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Mahogany Keys: The Complex Image of the African American Man.Part 3.The Black Man as a Protector


   The Black Man as a Protector                                                                                    Pretend you are walking towards home or towards a store entrance and you walk past an African American male. How many of you assume that he must be a bad man seeking to harm you rather than someone who could save your life? Sadly, most people (especially women) would think that a black male’s presence means danger never protection. Why? Because as we all know, we are biased, we are shown images that depict the African American male as a thug and potential rapist. This mentality has to go. There are so many African American males who serve in the military and risk...
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Mahogany Keys: The Complex Image of the African American Man.Part 2. The Black Man's Family


There is an old Romanian saying similar to, “It is only the dead who do not return.”  Indeed, in the aftermath of tragedy and life loss there is nothing we can do for the person who is no longer with us. However, there are many things we, both as a society or individuals, could do so Trayvon Martin’s death does not become yet another American racial crime. I have struggled with the idea of writing on racism in this country. For the past ten years I have been watching in silence, and have tried to listen to those who – in their best intentions – advised me to stay away from this particular topic. “Better stay out of it,” and I also heard, “Why would you care? It is not your problem.” There were other bitter personal experiences and labels that were attached to my person as well, just because I...
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9617 Hits

TALES FROM THE COMMUNIST CRYPT


Excerpt from the upcoming Romanian Rhapsody © 2011 by Oana. This is a book about my sister and me growing up in the midst of oppression and censorship. Freedom Bucharest, 1979      I was older, and my presence was probably easier to tolerate than that of my sister. My father would sometimes take me to his office with him, which was also a way of separating me from Sorana, since our exuberant and noisy duo gave my mother and my grandmother severe migraines.      Dad would stop at the taverns to have a drink with his co-workers or friends on his way back home, and I would sit there with them sipping my juice, and making mental notes of the tavern. It was during these afternoons there, that the ten-year-old in me realized that men were very different from us women.      I was fascinated by men. They smelled different. They moved...
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9691 Hits

For Your Holiday

Damn, how could I forget it? Zip is going to be furious. Everything she’s taken care of, and I forget the matzoth. And it’s almost sundown. Well, I’ll grab a box and hopefully they’ll have the express checkout working. Moses Cohen’s mind was racing, but that was nothing new. “Occupational hazard,” he always rationalized. “Lawyers do a lot of thinking.” Maybe it was all that thinking that made him absentminded. It seemed like things were always last minute. But the matzoth for the Seder, how the devil did I forget the matzoth? And Zip’s parents; they know I’m not observant, but… He walked as quickly as he could towards the back of the grocery, where the ethnic foods were shelved, where he was sure there would be a Passover display. I won’t tell her father it’s from the grocery. He’d make a stink. Just like him. Every rule something to yell...
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Copyright

© (c) 2012 by Kenneth Weene

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