Greens and Neckbones
- Title: The Imperfect Blog
- Address: imperfectenjoyment.com
- Author: Dewan Gibson
- From: Otay Ranch
- Blogging since: 2009
- Post Title: Black History Month is Over
- Post Date: March 4, 2012
I saw a brotha in a beat up Caprice Classic drive through my neighborhood, shirtless and smoking what might have been a Newport loosey. It was really cool to see someone who reminded me of my home in Cleveland, but I still notified Neighborhood Watch.
- Post Title: Neckbones: Heaven in a Bowl for Less Than Three Bucks
- Post Date: February 22, 2012
Man, these neckbones and greens is gooder than a bitch. I planned on going to bed early last night, but they just kept calling me. It’s not just the taste, but also the challenge of getting all that devil meat off without chipping my pale yellow teeth. It’s about ripping that bone apart with my strong black hands, salty nectar splashing my face and soaking my palms. It’s about licking my fingers for 15 minutes straight, yet having the foresight to save a bit of the residue for facial moisturizer and shoeshine. It’s about the memories…Mom yelling, “Don’t eat all the damn meat out the greens, fool!” and Dad beating me with a wet rag when I did. It’s about the ancestors who made do with whatever remnants of the pig Whitey left them, ate those bones dry and then sharpened the remains to stab that cracka in the neck. Neckbones are love. Neckbones are freedom. Neckbones are me.
- Post Title: Celebrating Black History Month as a Sellout
- Post Date: February 1, 2012
I was black before Barack (re)made it cool, but now I’m distant from my race. My main black man problem: removing wine stains from my LL Cool J soup-coolers. I live in a suburb a few miles from the U.S.-Mexico border and go weeks without seeing a single black person in my part of town. An area where the small number of racists are too busy hating on the Mexicans to worry about a couple-few black guys in the area, provided that couple-few remains a couple-few.
I live with my lady, who’s black in ass but white overall, and our six-month-old son who has yet to realize the discomfort that comes with “What are you?” The few black friends I have here operate as I do, without the constraints of being black. The phrases I heard in my hometown of Cleveland don’t apply: “Man, real ni66as don’t .” Fill in the blank with: go camping, fall in love with white women (smanging is OK), listen to Radiohead, travel outside a three mile radius of racial comfort, sit right next to their homeboy in the movie theater, drink a beer without grabbing it by the neck, give high fives…
But we’re still very much black, and proud. I cringe when our ignorant 10 percent equates black with “ghetto.” I hate logging on to WorldStarHipHop.com, but rubberneck at our mess when temptation proves too heavy. I watch UFC and hope the brotha knocks the white dude out…sorry. I listen to “Watch The Throne” and see it as a celebration of modern “black excellence.” I want hot sauce on everything I eat; it’s actually crusted on my computer’s keypad as I write.
But I also thought O.J. was guilty, from the start. And my in-group politics mesh more with Bill Cosby’s than Al Sharpton’s.
Still, I can have an opinion on black love without getting the side-eye, even if my version of black love includes a white woman. I can criticize and compliment us and feel my opinion is just as valid as that of someone who’s really “down.”
Jesse’s struggle was different than Barack’s. Baldwin’s issues might not have meshed with Malcolm’s. Dubois didn’t see eye-to-eye with Booker T. Washington. What K’naan went through is probably completely foreign to other black hip-hop artists. And Rerun from What’s Happening probably didn’t understand the trouble Lamar from Revenge of the Nerds faced while becoming the greatest dancer of his generation.
But the breadth and depth of the black experience is great. Let’s appreciate the diversity within the black community. Even Herman Cain.