Uploaded on Oct 10, 2009
‘Slit my wrists, my blood does not excrete in black and white’ prophesizes 13-year old Zora in her poem entitled ‘Bi-Racial Hair’ which was performed live in front of 1500 of her peers and adult allies at the 2006 Urban Word NYC Teen Poetry Slam.
My short film of the same title, is a satirical look at the racial tension young African American’s experience who are of mixed ethnic backgrounds. Using Zora’s poem as the thread, the film follows her initial comedic rant about the challenges she faces in stylizing her hair to her personal frustrations of being teased about her ethnicity by her African American peers. The film weaves between fictional reanctments, archival footage of the civil rights movement and Zora’s infamous live spoken word performance, Illustrating the struggles youth of mixed color face with identity and social position. Zora’s resolution about proposing a ‘new race’ sheds light on the complexity and depth of the racist wounds our nation still faces 150 years after the abolishment of slavery.
‘Bi-Racial Hair’ was one of five short pitches chosen for WGBH Lab and the National Black Programming Consortium’s ‘Eviction Notice’ Open Call which gave production funding and online feedback to the chosen filmmakers. It was broadcasted on Independent Lens for Black History Month in February 2009 and won a Boston/New England Emmy Award for Outstanding Advanced Media Interactivity
Published on Nov 1, 2012 by AlJazeeraEnglish
The US locks up more people than any other country in the world, spending over $80bn each year to keep some two million prisoners behind bars. Over the past three decades, tough sentencing laws have contributed to a doubling of the country’s prison population, with laws like the ‘Three Strikes and You’re Out’ mandating life sentences for a wide range of crimes.
Baffled by his dad’s reluctance to change his traditional soul food diet in the face of a health crisis, filmmaker Byron Hurt sets out to learn more about this rich culinary tradition and it’s relevance to black cultural identity. He discovers that the love affair that his dad and his community have with soul food is deep-rooted, complex, and in some tragic cases, deadly. Through candid interviews with soul food cooks, historians and scholars, as well as doctors, family members, and everyday people, Soul Food Junkies puts this culinary tradition under the microscope to examine both its benefits and consequences. Hurt looks at the socioeconomics of predominantly black neighborhoods, where it can be difficult to find healthy options, and
The release this month by a U.S.-non-profit organization of an Internet video denouncing a Ugandan rebel leader is creating a worldwide conversation and shaking up the world of advocacy.
SLAVERY BY ANOTHER NAME is a 90 minute documentary that challenges one of America’s most cherished assumptions: the belief that slavery in this country ended with Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation of 1863. Premiering February 13 on PBS.
And I’ll judge everyone, one by the one
Look here comes the judge, watch it here he come now
(Don’t sentence me judge, I ain’t did nothin’ to nobody)
I can only guess what’s happenin’
Years ago he woulda been the ship’s captain
Gettin’ me bruised on a cruise, what I got to lose
Lost all contact, got me layin’ on my back
Ugh, rollin’ in my own leftover
When I roll over, I roll over in somebody else
90 damn days on a slave ship
Count them fallin’ off 1, 2, 3, 4 hundred at a time
Blood in the wood and it’s mine
I’m chokin’ on, spit, feelin’ pain
Like my brain bein’ chained
Still gotta give it what I got
But it’s hot in the day, it’s cold in the night
But I thrive to survive, I pray to god to stay alive
Attitude boils up inside
And that ain’t it, you think I ever quit
Still I pray to get my hands around the neck of the man with the whip
3 months passed, they brand a label on my ass
To signify our owned, I’m on the microphone
Sayin’ 1555, how I’m livin’
We been livin’ here, livin’ ain’t the word, I been givin’
Haven’t got, classify us in the have-nots
Fightin’ haves cause it’s all about money “damn”
When it comes to Armageddon mean I’m getting mine
Here I am turn it over Sam
427 to the year, do you understand
That’s why it’s hard for the black to love the land
February is observed as Black History Month in the United States and Canada. The original goal was to educate Americans about African-American history, focusing on African Americans’ cultural backgrounds and achievements. In New York, the month began with a rare look at the 13th Amendment, the amendment to the U.S. Constitution that freed the slaves. One of only 14 copies signed by President Abraham Lincoln is on loan to the New York Historical Society. VOA’s Bernard Shusman reports.
The lives and rich traditions of descendants of West African slaves who live in southern coastal regions of the eastern United States are being showcased at a museum in Washington, DC. The exhibit at the Smithsonian’s Anacostia Community Museum also profiles an African American scholar whose research first connected the Gullah-Geechee people with the language and culture of their ancestors. VOA’s Chris Simkins reports on efforts to educate people about the Gullah people while promoting preservation of their culture and traditions.
Haiti is one of the poorest countries in the western hemisphere and the poverty has fuelled restavek, a system of domestic servitude of hundreds of thousands of children that is tantamount to modern-day slavery.
The country’s government acknowledges that child slaves exist but says it is part of the culture. (2008)
I know I can (I know I can)
Be what I wanna be (be what I wanna be)
If I work hard at it (If I work hard at it)
I’ll be where I wanna be (I’ll be where I wanna be)
Be, B-Boys and girls, listen up
You can be anything in the world, in God we trust
An architect, doctor, maybe an actress
But nothing comes easy it takes much practice
Like, I met a woman who’s becoming a star
She was very beautiful, leaving people in awe
Singing songs, Lina Horn, but the younger version
Hung with the wrong person
Got her strung on that
Heroin, cocaine, sniffin up drugs all in her nose…
Coulda died, so young, now looks ugly and old
No fun cause now when she reaches for hugs people hold they breath
Cause she smells of corrosion and death
Watch the company you keep and the crowd you bring
Cause they came to do drugs and you came to sing
So if you gonna be the best, I’ma tell you how,
Put your hands in the air, and take a bow
