Black Blogs Lost, Black Blogs Dead

I now know why the Field Negro told me last year to keep writing, even if it is a paragraph. I understand why Rippa told me that it is hard out here for a blogger to stay motivated and energized.

It is because the number of blogs have died tremendously. It is like a reappropriation of a Nas mixtape entitled, "Black Blogs are Dead".

Maybe it is more than that, more like, the good blogs shall inherit the internet domain. I mean dagggg, blogs are dropping faster than strippers' panties, and believe me folks, I am not one of them. I have just been absorbing this conundrum of life and have been writing offline in other important matters.

I asked myself, "Ecosoul, why have so many blogs died?" There are many ways to explain this Darwinian phenomenon of the dying black blogs.

Blogs are A LOT of work to manage; especially when you are doing them alone, without any pay, and feel like you are just writing out in space without little to no feedback. And when you are actually writing original pieces on original topics with your own thought, that even presents another labor that is done in love, and thanklessly.

Which leads to my other angle to the depreciation of blogs. Since people don't read at length anymore and want fast food notes that are about four sentences long including the title, a lot of people just recycle the same shit posted in 80% of gossip or gossip news without their own spin.

Like that Pac song, "Every other city I go, all on the video, no matter where I go, I see the same hoe." Excuse the misogynistic citation, but blogs have become some what of a news brothel. Stank nasty, overused snippets of fishy things that are recirculated on CNN and Fox every hour. For the last two years, the same blogs talk about the same shit, with the same tag lines and speaking points.

Plus, black blogs just don't get the funding or the love like they need to expand. You hear about these simple blogs that become these media giants, and they seem so innocent. There is the fantasy that is distributed that goes something like this "Peggy started with $10 and turned her shoe love into a million dollar online shopping Bonanza. And you can too! (gush, cheer and applause)"

Truth be told, those Cinderalla stories are far, far, far and few between, and take a lot of backing that we rarely, rarely see.

Lemme give you a little intel on the online/digital community, it takes a shitload of investment money and labor to position yourself as successful (meaning financially lucrative) in the digital community. And definitely time and labor for them to grow and thrive.

Finally, black blogs simply fall behind on the latest gadgets and online knowledge to expand and keep up, along with the time and work it takes to maintain them. Simply put, one way or another, you have to put dinero into the product to see it grow. Or you get burned out and die.

So what can the readers do to keep us motivated? Read, respond and encourage. Plus, if we have a product or an event, attend and support. It won't hurt, but will sincerely help black blogs thrive.

Blog on....EcoSoul

Flying Squirrels and Jumping Monkeys at the London Olympics

There isn't anything remotely close to London Olympic gold medalist, Gabby Douglas, being a squirrel---be it flying, scurrying or smashed like roadkill.

Gabby is the quintessential American hero who has risen like a graceful Phoenix---dark skin, thick lips, broad nose, coily hair and all.

Gabby is not a mascot that you pat in sympathy with white patronizing sentiments like a Pickanini slave child dancing for watermelon seeds.

Her father is serving in the military with an overseas deployment, while her mother pooled all of her resources so that she and Gabby's siblings could be there to support. They may be cooking dinners on hotplates at the hotel, but they are there by hook or crook.

That is the black family template I know. We make do when the can't do is staring us down in the face.

So let me give this PSA to the world. The name, 'The Flying Squirrel' is not cute nor is it endearing.

And though I am sure Gabby laughs at this 'nickname', and wears it proud, I am quite disgusted. And I know I am not alone. As a result, I will take the role as her elder, and defend her, even if she isn't quite clear how historically demeaning and racialized it is to be reduced to a furry, disease-infested, buck-toothed critter.

Gabby's story is nothing short of phenomenal. 

She was thought to not have "what it took to be an Olympian" because 'experts' believed she "lacked confidence and focus". Commentators emphasized these 'doubts' with implications that she had fell short on maturity, competition experience and an understanding of what it took to be a victor.

It seemed as if her only skill was to smile like a 20th century Amos N' Andy caricature. But we who have been there knows that Gabby, whether consciously or not, understands the true meaning of "grin and bear it" or to smile, even when they are the meanest.

Juxtaposed against Gabby was her teammate Jordan Wieber, who was touted consistently as America's real "darling". Unlike Douglas, Wieber was framed as effortless and destined to win. But when she failed, the commentators showered reports with endless, acceptable excuses as to why and how she wasn't performing up to par.

I almost spit out my smoothie when a news report said, "the world watched in shock as Wieber shed heart-wrenching tears—she wouldn't be competing in the all-around competition." NOT. I wasn't stunting Jordan Wieber, and I question what world that, that reporter belongs to---perhaps white Suburbia that orbits around asinine.

But the one-sided outrage of the individual finals being Wieber-less went as far as an NBC gymnastic commentator stating later that he thought Olympic officials should reassess the rules of how many people can qualify. I have seen this strategy repeated when certain people lose at a game of which they created the rules---they simply change them when they are no longer the game-changers.

And although Gabby scored highest during the team finals, it was projected that Wieber's leadership and emotionally evolved, selflessness is what actually got the job done for the win.

Even up until the final event leading to Gabby's individual gold, while the world was cheering, the privileged and supremacist eye kept disbelieving. When Gabby won, it was so antithetical for the biased commentators who were edging for any white girl to win by the end, that folks took to twitter and Facebook to celebrate what wasn't being acknowledged on air.

So uncomfortable with Gabby's domination and being the current face that represents the United States as a champion,  those who have absorbed the ideologies of privilege and supremacy threw jabs like the alleged "ill-timed' monkey commercial following the ceremony.

It is as if  Gabby is like Obama in 2008.The results are in, and they will never admit, that they were all dead ass wrong, upstaged by and underdog and still soak in their racism.

Olympic Watch Entry #1: We Need Educated, Culturally Aware Announcers

Ugandan Olympic contingency

Just because we have a few pastey-skinned, black reporters on CNN doesn't absolve the issue that members of the press, and in particular, the US are still ignorant, lack in diversity, and keep the cogs of institutionalized racism going.

Being a person who worked in the newsroom, I think one of the dumbest professions is journalism, because most "journalists" report facts and never take the time out to actually understand them. And in the case of growing technology, they do very little of acquiring facts at all.

Unfortunately, our media is darkened by idiots like Bob Costas who referenced Idi Amin in the opening ceremony as Uganda entered the London stadium for the Olympics. That's like referencing Hitler when Germany comes out or Stalin for Russia.

It even get's better. Costas said earlier about another African country, "If there was an award for country name that makes you smile, Djibouti would win the gold."

US Olympic news coverage needs an enema.

Sunday Spiritual Music

National Black Arts Festival, July 7 - July 17

NBAF is by far one of the expansive arts festivals celebrating the culture of people of African descent. If you've never experienced it, than it is time to make a trek to Atlanta.

For two weeks, the city is teeming with cultural, education, and social activities and entertainment that whet an array of appetites. This year, one of the musical features is a personal favorite, Omar Sosa.

Local Festivities: Odunde Festival in Philly

If there was ever a time black people needed to be blessed by the spirits for prosperity, good health and a great year it is now.

I love, love, love the Odunde festivals' morning ritual of offering sweet things to the Orisa or Goddess Osun for a prosperous year full of good loving, good fortune and a happy home.

Covering 12 city blocks, it is one of the largest African-American street festivals in the country. The food, vibe and entertainment is spectacular.

Odunde means "Happy New Year" in Yoruba. Activities begin on Friday, June 10 and goes until June 12. The offering is on Sunday morning at the Schuylkill River.

And by far, the vending varieties of various African and African-American artifacts, food, and clothes/jewelry teem in diversity.

For more information visit odunde.org

Local Festivities: Ancestral Ceremony @ Coney Island in Brooklyn

Photo Credit Nubian Knights Network

Question: Where is the largest burial ground of African people?

Answer: The Atlantic Ocean due to the Middle Passage.


Article taken from http://Blackstarnews.com

Photo Credit Nubian Knights Network

On Sat., June 11, from 12 noon to sunset, the 22nd Annual Tribute to Our Ancestors of the Middle Passage will be held on the boardwalk at West 16th Street --Ancestors Circle-- in Coney Island, Brooklyn, the site where some of the earliest slave ships once docked.

Sponsored by Akeem Productions and the People of the Sun Middle Passage Collective in conjunction with Medgar Evers College Student Government Association, this annual tribute is in remembrance of the tens of millions of Africans who, after being kidnapped from their homeland, died during the Middle Passage - the voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to the Caribbean and North and South America.

Prayers for all ancestors will start precisely at noon, rain or shine, in coordination with other gatherings around the world carrying out this same rite at exactly the same time. It will begin with a libation ceremony, followed by a drum invocation led by Guyanese Master Drummer Menes De Griot and his Shanto Troupe. He will be playing the ancestors' Ngomas, made for him in South Africa by the Venda people. These drums are played only three times a year, and the trinity drum - so named because it can be played on all three sides - is the only one in the world.

This year's drum tributes will be made to Dr. Manning Marable, Mr. William Daly, Nate Dogg and all other recent ancestors, with a special remembrance of Dr. Mary Umolu.

The tribute will feature stirring performances by many singers, drummers, dancers and spoken word artists, including Grandmaster Kham, Ngomo, KowTeff African Dance Company, Crown Heights Youth Collective and the Congo Square Drummers and Dancers.

The event will culminate at sundown with the final Ancestral Offering, during which the Ancestral Drummers will lead participants to the water's edge where each person will place flowers into the Atlantic Ocean, the largest African burial ground in the world.

Attendees are asked to wear white or African attire and bring flowers to place in the ocean. If you do not have a drum, bring a shekere, whistle, cowbell, or shac shac. No vendors please.

For more information, contact Akeem at (718) 270-4902 or email him at Akeem827@yahoo.com. Transportation: D, F, N or Q train to the last stop, Coney Island/Stillwell Avenue, or B36, B64, B68 or B82 bus to Stillwell Avenue/Surf Avenue (Coney Island Train Station). 

"Speaking Truth To Empower."

Osun-O

As people who follow the Christian doctrine prepare for the Easter holy day, and those who follow Judaism finish up Passover, there are others who are ensconced in spiritual or religious rituals older than those.

Many acknowledge the Spring Equinox in the Northern Hemisphere through ceremonies that predate the appearance of Christ, Mohammad & Moses. There are those who engage in fetes that celebrate the essence, beauty and exquisite powers from Africa.

Throughout the African Diaspora in the Americas and the Caribe, there are folks who have retained or recaptured the spiritual gatherings in the celebration of the West African-based Orisa spirituality.

It is during this time, until the summer, there are many festival celebrating the Orisa named Osun. This Orisa is spelled and called many ways in the Diaspora Ochun, Oshun, Shola, Erzulie.

Osun Reference in Love Jones, A Blues for Nina


Osun Festival, Odunde Festival, New York


Osun Performance, Havana Cuba


Osun Festival, Oyotunji Village, Sheldon South Carolina


Osun Festival, Oakland, California


Osun Ceremony, Candomble, Brazil


Osun Festival, Osogbo, Nigeria


Osun Festival, Asheville, North Carolina


Osun Festival, Ode Remo, Nigeria


Odunde Festival, Celebration of Osun, Philadelphia


Cosmic Slop, Pt. 2 Virgin Mary (This is the trailer to all of the Cosmic Slops, but do you remember the second one with the priest and the Virgin Mary)

Fela! is Burning Down Broadway

I still am vibrating from the sax, sakere, and drums that I rocked to as I lived the new Broadway show, Fela! Three words, Go See It!

You know how a black movie comes out, and you reluctantly go check it out because it will probably be trash, but in the name of supporting a rare occurrence on the silver screen you go anyway.

You know what I'm talking about, a film that has more than 1 black character not acting stupid, so you waste an evening and about $20 bucks.

For example, I was very hesitant about seeing any more Tyler Perry Films because I paid money at a theater to see him dressed as an old, fat, black woman and I absolutely vomited in the middle of the show. I did not care if Cicely Tyson was in it or not. It was ga-bage. Needless to say, I did like "Why Did I Get Married," but I wonder if it is because I am selecting the lesser of evils out of all his trash.

On the other hand, Fela! was soooooooooo different.

I was totally unprepared for my first experience viewing a Broadway production. Song, potent political statements that were upgraded to today's issues, and dance, I mean straight up-and-down funky shit caught me off guard. I did not see Fela! I became part of the show while I moved my ass from 12-o'clock to 6-o'clock.

Energy, passion and depth packed into 2 1/2 hours. I enjoyed the innovative and powerful way that the creators told the story of a complex and controversial musical-cultural-political icon that many in the US do not know. But in Africa, Europe, and other places, Fela Kuti the man, IS the Bob Marley of the Motherland.

(Above photo is of actor Sahr Ngaujah playing Fela)

And I am glad of the layers of narratives that were wrapped in this show. First, you had Fela's phenomenal journey from Nigeria, to London, the America (specifically black America), then back home.

Fela, played by the ingenious Sahr Ngaujah is exceptional. And the screenplay's writing and direction masterfully interweaves the African Diaspora and touches upon the intricacies of perspectives of the various black people all affected by world colonial powers and neo-Imperialism. But the movie connects everyone through a medium that has been used before it was termed, music. Ahh, the sweet stankness of music.

But Fela the man is just a medium, like his music because he explicitly talks about the ones who cultivated his character, the women of his life. First his mother, Funmilayo, then his black-powered lover, Sandra Isidore in Los Angeles. And finally, his group dancers, the Queens of his social/performance clubs, and some of them his lovers.

These women become the ones who craft him into a being that learns to transcends government oppression, constant harassment, police torture and frequent beatings, and finally death. (Photo of the real Fela Anikulapo Kuti)

Then you have the story of dance, specifically African dance and the African Diaspora. Being someone who danced for years in many African dance classes, I was able to understand the most of the dancing was from the Senegal, Guinea, and Mali region, due to these dominant dance forms in African dance in the US.

However, there were elements of Orisa dancing from an Afro-Cuban and Yoruban perspective. Then you had another facet, tap-dancing, an African-American classic. The fusions showed the fluidity and natural marriages involved in these movements.

A real photo of one of Fela's wives who were noted for their elaborate facial adornments. It was interesting how some people at the Broadway show commented on how they liked the "face paintings" of the women in the show. Honey, that is not costume markings that is make-up just like the overpriced, toxic shit you buy at Macy's. Matter fact, it is one of the ancient forms of make-up)

And to make it all the sweeter, my sister and I took our two nieces, ages 8 & 11, and all of us LOVED the show. Music, it is the pacifier and also the fuel to learn and fight.

Check out the real Fela perform with his group in Calabar Nigeria in 1971 by clicking the photo below. Blog him and read his fascinating biography. Then when you are in New York, check out the show!Modupe Egungun Fela Anikulapo Kuti!