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July 18, 2006

The Africana A-List - 05.30.03

This was first published on Africana.com on May 30, 2003.

The A-List is a compendium of the most important things African America discussed this week. This week on the A-List: Diallo Déjà vu

The A-List: 05.30.03

The A-List is a compendium of the most important things African America discussed this week. This week on the A-List: Diallo Deja vu

Compiled by Africana Staff

[ebog note: Why is EBOG reposting old articles?]

1. Diallo Deja Vu
Living while black is a hazard to your health, especially in New York City. Over a seven-day period, two unarmed black people -- a grandmother who worked for the city and a merchant -- were killed by the cops by so-called accident. In the case of Alberta Spruill, twelve heavily-armed popo knocked down the 57-year-old's Harlem door, tossed in a flash grenade, burst in and handcuffed her, only to realize they had the wrong woman and the wrong apartment. Ms. Spruill obviously knew she was innocent, but that conviction offered her little protection the NYPD's homegrown version of Shock & Awe. She went into cardiac arrest and died soon after. Though Spruill's death was ruled a homicide by the New York Medical Examiner's office (which means her death was found to have been caused by human hands, as opposed to being the result of natural causes), the early word is that no charges will be filed against the cops. While the police admit to having faulty intel, they also contend that they didn't act improperly by entering the apartment as they did, the risks of using flash grenades in confined spaces apparently acceptable when compared to the NYPD's previous mode of entry: guns blazing.

Less than one week later, Ousmane Zongo had a similar NYPD encounter. Zongo's fatal mistake was, like Spruill's a simple matter of being in the wrong place (i.e., home) at the wrong time. Zongo entered the Chelsea warehouse where he maintained a repair shop at the same time that the NYPD were conducting a raid on a bootleg CD operation, the end result being three bullet wounds to the chest, abdomen and upper back. The shooter, plainclothes police officer Bryan Conroy, was guarding confiscated materials nearby, and he alleges that Zongo reached for his gun after an as yet unexplained skirmish. As Amadou Diallo proved for the umpteenth time, there's no penalty associated with cops shooting black men for no apparent reason at long range, so Conroy's clichéd claims that Zongo reached for his gun during an up-close-and-personal encounter in what has been described as a "cramped hallway" should not only exonerate him, but earn him a medal. Zongo leaves behind two children and a wife. And by the way, no gun.

2. Leave No (Middle-Class) Child Behind!
One of the least sexy but most outrageous stories of the week came out of Capital Hill Wednesday, when it was reported that President Bush's tax cut plan -- the one approved by Congress at a total cost to government coffers of $350 billion -- does not extend the child tax credit increase (from $600 to $1000 per child) to families making between $10,500 to $26,625. Which is to say, the folks who could most use the extra 400 clams will not get it. Extending the child tax credit to these families would have cost an estimated $3.5 billion, one percent of the total bill. Employing their by now well-known Orwellian doublespeak when asked about this truly heinous case of mass child neglect, hardline Republicans blamed it on Democrats and moderates within their own party, who had sought to limit the President's outrageous tax cut (his original target was $850 billion) in hopes of controlling an already mushrooming deficit. In other words, what Republicans are saying is that when given the choice between holding the line on scores of billions of dollars in cuts to dividend and capital gains taxes (paid only by the richest among us) and extending a tax credit to poor families, they voted to protect the interests rich.

Some have argued that at least the Imposter President's tax cut offered some families a tax credit increase, but that (yet again) only highlights the perverse logic of the liars, innumerates, imperial adventurers and petro-dollar fascists who now run our country. Imagine a famine-relief program that specifically targets the well-fed at the expense of the starving, or a hospital that only treats the healthy, and you get an appreciation for the pre-historic, crass and compassionless social Darwinism that now guides our so-called democracy. We thought our outrage was all worn out -- it's been working overtime since Florida -- but we were wrong.

3. He's Not Heavy, He's My Rusted, Corroded Iron Brother
The A-List wanted to say something pithy and on-point about Mike Tyson's latest grab for headlines, but really, what's the point? That the onetime Iron Mike could look back on his 1992 rape conviction during a televised interview and not only declare himself innocent, but so angry over his wrongful conviction that "now I really do want to rape [victim Desiree Washington] and her ... mama" should surprise no one. Tyson has a long history of inexplicable, random, Tourette's-like outbursts and the sentiment itself, while outrageous, is of a piece with the kind of brutally unreconstructed masculinity that is Tyson's last marketable asset.

What's much more newsworthy is that the notoriously racist class acts at Fox News are the ones behind this drivel. Scientologist-cum-"Extreme Makeover"-contestant Greta Van Susteren presented her interview with Mike Tyson as a tense confrontation with a "ticking timebomb," but this confrontation had no news value and was associated with no event, anniversary or upcoming bout that the A-List could discern. That only leaves ratings, of course, as the rationale for this little bit of cable news theater, with a past-his-prime Tyson performing ably in the only arenas in which he still has a chance of taking the title: insanity and opprobrium.

4. Dams: The Gift That Keeps On Taking!

See, the A-List had our retirement strategy all figured out. We were going to cash in some old stocks before they completely tanked, get a friendly helping hand from a government agency interested in global entrepreneurship, and invest our stash in a small business in one of Africa's most stable economies: Ghana. But just as we were dusting off our business plan (it's top secret, but it involves a revolutionary, yet respectfully ancestral, form of hair grease), we found out the Feds are mad at the Ghanaians. So mad, in fact, that the Overseas Private Investing Company (OPIC), which provides low-interest loans to US companies abroad, has suspended funding new American investment in Ghana. Why? A dam. Apparently the US government built a dam in Ghana in the 1950s to help power the aluminum extraction operations of American multinationals. The dam was "given" to the Ghanaians in exchange for a guarantee that the locals would never charge market rates for their power. With water levels receding though, the Ghanaians want to charge more than the measly 1.1 cents per kilowatt-hour allowed by the 50-year-old contracts. They're asking for a 5.6 cent increase, which, as a point of reference would raise the price above the 4.5 cents per kilowatt-hour companies pay in the US.

The Ghanaian government argues that energy costs have risen since Leave it to Beaver was on the air, but the Feds are unrelenting. "Ghana is being seen as not acting in a commercially reasonable manner that would ensure investor confidence," OPIC President Peter Watson warned the Ghanaian ambassador to the US. He went on to say that all US investment might be at risk if the Ghanaians raise the energy costs. This is, of course, just so much globalization gamesmanship, but with the A-List's retirement hanging perilously in the balance, we hope the US and Ghanaian governments, who are meeting this week, iron things out. While the A-List categorically objects to all forms of black-people-getting-took, that 5.3-cent per kilowatt-hour difference might not exactly be worth the loss of all the American investment in Ghana. Most indicators suggest the country is hitting economic stride, so, maybe, our Ghanaian brothers should just go ahead and file the underpayments to under the category of "historical blaxploitation" with, you know, all that other stuff. And let this be a lesson to all of you: the next time Greeks come a'calling bearing high-powered hydroelectric dams and papers to sign, read the fine print with your third eye before signing.

5. Made for TV Black Genetic Action Heroes! From Howard!
The Howard University College of Medicine, in partnership with a Chicago-based company, First Genetic Trust, got all movie-of-the-week on us recently by announcing plans to set up a bank of black DNA samples. Over the course of a project dubbed Genomic Research in the African Diaspora (uh, GRAD), the academic-industrial collaborators plan to seek clues to causes and cures of diseases that disproportionately affect blacks, while also insuring that black DNA samples find their way into more genetic research.

In a (distantly) related story, consensus is building that genetically specific, anti-black bio-weapons developed by South Africa's apartheid era government have made their way onto the international, er, black market. Apparently the genetic specificity of the weapons is of interest to folks eager to wipe out entire types of people, giving antagonists new ways to prosecute longstanding ethnic wars. Of extra interest to terrorists are new forms of "stealth" communicable hemorrhagic fevers that don't show up in conventional tests for the diseases.

So picture this, gentle reader: A major American city comes under attack by a communicable bug (think something along the lines of the Captain Trips virus from Stephen King's The Stand) that near-automatically kills a percentage of the local population roughly equal to its number of black folks. (Heck, forget roughly. It just kills all of -- gulp! -- us.) How does a state with a history of unequal application of the law (not to mention tacit approval for current inequality) respond? How does the general population respond? While SWA (sneezing-while-Asian) will not get you shot, as any Asian American brother or sister unlucky enough to have come down with a bad case of hay fever since SARS broke can attest, it sure will clear a room! Now imagine SWB (sneezing-while-black) in an environment where CNN is running daily bio-terror death tallies and doing feature stories on tow-headed midwestern girls named Ashley bleeding out from their blue eye sockets. Howard-trained NAACP lawyers have saved the Civil-Right-day on numerous occasions. But is there a black, Howard trained epidemiologist in the house?

6. Whitney, Bobby, Ariel and Ben -- The Secret Relationship Between Blacks and Jews
News that Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown have taken up with an obscure cult known as the African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem brought a joyful tear of remembrance to the A-List's eyes. Back home in Crooklyn, the local version of the Hebrew Israelites were a well-known and highly entertaining fixture of downtown's Fulton Mall. On any given day, rain or shine, winter or summer, they could invariably be found in front of The Wiz or V*I*M Jeans and Sneakers with a crudely-drawn sign that explained their belief in correspondences between the Twelve Tribes of Israel and the African Diaspora (Levy = Haitian/Dominican, for example). This being the era of hip hop they also had a microphone plugged into a massive old skool boom-box, the better to amplify the biblically-inspired obscenities being directed at fornicators, devil-pig-eaters, white-devil-people, homosexuals, mix-raced people, mix-raced couples, women in tight jeans, men in baggy jeans, single women, women not living with their daddies, daddies not living with their women, pot-smokers, artists and other degenerates -- in short, just about everyone the A-List loves or, at the very least, likes to get down with on weekends.

The Hebrew Israelites are, of course, thoroughly bananas, but like all apocalyptic sects given to raising black men out of the various lower circles of urban hell, they are not only concerned with introducing recruits to the word (the Bible and the Koran) and its instrumentalities (reading, writing and testifying), but also to the sect's particular sense of style. The NOI has their suits and bow-ties, but the Hebrew Israelites are fond of more post-Arabian garb: elaborate, flowing drapes of purple, gold, orange and red silks that tuck into metal-studded leather cuffs or shiny pirate boots. In much the same way that the group claims to be descended from the original, "true" Hebrews, they identify their garb as harkening back to the authentic period uniform of the original, "true," black Jews. If that's the case, then those were some forward looking brothers, indeed, as Hebrew Israelites tend to resemble nothing so much as Rick James circa the cover of Fire it Up, only without the cowboy hat.

As industry people, Whitney and Bobby understand the power of style. Their religious pilgrimage was most notable for the curious photo-op it created for them and Ariel Sharon. The Arab press reported that while she was willing to stand with the "Butcher Of Sabra And Chatila," Houston (in shades) refused to shake his hand, while the American and Israeli press reported that Whitney just about whispered wet sweet nothings into his ear, murmuring of Israel: "It's home. It's a friendship I've never had with any other country." Either way, she was soon whisked off to a spiritual retreat with her black hosts, who in the finest tradition of outlier religions will get down on their knees with anyone, even Whitney and Bobby. Still, the whole thing is funny to us. If you had told the A-List way back when that the beliefs of the impassioned, slightly unbalanced men on Fulton Avenue would play even this marginal, short-news cycle role in world events we would have laughed -- and that is perhaps the moral of this story. The men on Fulton, sweating in their silk and leather and trying to beat a path through a world of wickedness with nothing more than the power of their convictions knew their day would come, and thanks to the intercession of two R&B junkies, it finally did.

7. A Shoe-In for Fame?
In the wake of last week's inking of a $90 million endorsement deal between Nike and 18-year-old basketball phenom LeBron James, a contract worth only $1 million sounds like chump change. Since the athlete in this deal is only 13 (14 on Monday!), however, that one million marks a first in the annals of athletic footwear financial extravagance. The scary thing, unlike LeBron, the kid-kid may be worth every penny. Though he's only in eighth grade, Ghanaian-born Freddy Adu (who came to this country with his mother just six years ago) is by all accounts poised to become the US's first soccer superstar. His mastery of the game has brought comparisons to Pele and Maradonna, as well as European junior team interest since he the day he turned 11. Despite all that going for him, by all accounts he is a well-adjusted, well-mannered kid, a good student with a charming personality. The A-List wishes him all the best.

If only we could feel as good about LeBron. Sure, the kid (the fact that he could now buy and sell us doesn't buy him a Mr.) is mega-talented and just as handsome and charming as a celebrity oughta be. And sure, we all agree that what with NCAA exploitation of its "student"-athletes there's no real crime in bypassing the opportunity to play for U. when the NBA is coming calling. Still -- James' appearances on NBA playoff broadcasts last weekend turned us off a bit. The A-List is a collective, so it's hard for us to take him seriously as a team player when he repeatedly hopes whatever team drafts him will "surround" him with "talent," positing himself as the center not only of his own universe, but everyone else's too. We're also already shuddering to think what his mother, who already bought herself a Hummer with her son's earlier (and vaguely sketchy) earnings, will do with $90 million. A word to the coach or GM who ends up having to turn him from immature financial freak of nature into franchise player: the only thing worse than discovering that there is no "L-E-B-R-O-N" in "TEAM" is discovering the hard way that there is now a sports "M-O-M."

8. The Racists Could Fly
At the inauguration last year of Georgia Governor Sonny Perdue, a trio of planes flew over Atlanta, dragging behind them banners bearing the image of the state's former flag -- which featured the Confederate battle flag -- and the words "Let Us Vote, You Promised." The last was a reference to the position that many feel won Perdue, a Republican, the election, Perdue pledging to let racist-white-people speak in a referendum on returning the state colors to their former, regressive glory. Confederate sympathizers, Civil War re-enactors and other shady characters have been dogging Perdue ever since, demanding the chance to return to a stars-and-bars version of the flag, which was scrapped by Perdue's predecessor Roy Barnes in the wake of threatened NAACP boycotts of the state (not to mention the political pressure brought to bear by the state's black -- and sensible white -- voters). Twice since the inauguration the mysterious flyovers have occurred, but the company whose planes were used is mum on the source of the money and the special instructions. (Besides flying the banners, the company are also supposed to photograph the planes and the crowds below, and email the images to local political reporters). Georgia Republicans, at whose mid-May convention the most recent flyovers occurred, claim the flights are Democratic dirty tricks. (Well, they should know about dirty tricks, right?) Meantime, Perdue has signed a bill authorizing a vote on the flag -- but none of the new designs features the familiar Confederate logo.

9. And so it was this week in African America
If you like what you read here, forward it. If you think the A-List is a hater, forward it to all your friends and complain. If you want more A-List, come back to Africana, same A-List time (Friday), same A-List channel! If you want the A-List stopped, come back to Africana, same A-List time (Friday), same A-List channel so that you can collect more information for your anti-A-List petition. No matter what you do, just keep coming back and forwarding!

About the Author

The A-List is basically just trying to live-while-black. [Actually, me Kate Tuttle, Zakia Carter and Ken Gibbs all contributed to items to this A-List.]

Posted by ebogjonson in garchival, on July 18, 2006 4:49 PM

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