Live Performance excerps

Okay, I know what you’re thinking, but social media is a little scary to me. People keep asking me, “are you on FaceBook?”  Now I can say, “yes, yes I am.

I am hoping this will make it easier for people who like my music and creative writing and opinions to find my stuff.

Please check me out and consider following me or “liking” me

Wishing you all good things

Frankie

Fun Times,

This will be my second year of performing for Street Music Week in Spokane.  Tomorrow, I will be playing in the Garland district.  This is an organized event, and donations go to the Second Harvest Food Bank.  Here is the link.  12-1pm.  Hope to see you there.

http://www.streetmusicweek.com/

WHY “BLACK” IS BETTER THAN “AFRICAN AMERICAN”

And

 “OF COLOR” IS NOT BETTER THAN “COLORED”

By Frankie Valinda Ghee

Unlike some people who share with me similar skin tone and facial features, I realize that I am in no position to speak for all or even most of us. However, it is my very personal opinion that in order for the United States to significantly reduce stereotyping and racial prejudice, and for black people to be judged without regard to skin type in all areas of life, we must first abandon the double standards that allow completely racist things to be done and said on behalf of black people.  It is time to accept the past and move forward into a new, more idealistic era. I believe that we need to begin living as if in a world where physical appearance is not presumed to tell the story of an individual’s intellect or upbringing.  We must stop confusing culture with physical appearance.

I believe that black people in the U.S. will continue to need special protection in education and the workplace as long as we continue to accept the charity of good intentions, entitlement and always one more push up the ladder to self-esteem for our people from them. As long as a loud enough percentage of black people continue to advocate clinging to the victimhood begot of the atrocities in our county’s past, and only a few of us ask, “Can we please get beyond this?” lynching and Jim Crow will remain at the forefront of our dialogue, and we will always be treated as the victims of historic crimes.  In this scenario, there is no bright future of racial equality.  The “dream” has become a stagnant excuse for failure and continued fear and mistrust by us of them.

Here’s a test.  Take any strategy which is being used to help black people cope with being black in America, and try doing the same thing for white people. See how you feel about it.  If your instinct is “We can’t do that!” or “That is completely racist!” Rethink the strategy.  For example, try advocating that a slightly less qualified candidate should get a position because she is white, and the company needs more white people to balance all the black people working there. Yikes! That’s completely racist.  Right? We should rethink that strategy.

Start talking about white people with reverence as people “of no color.”  If you see a group of white people having a meal or discussing a topic, say something like, “This restaurant is frequented by ‘people of no color.’”

Announce and/or count every time a white person achieves something lofty.  For example, “This is the 105^th white lawyer in this district to win the award.”

Create a channel called “White Entertainment Television,” and have music or film awards that exclude everyone except white people. Racist.  Right?

Try this phrase, “Leaders of the white community gathered today to discuss the Ebola crisis.”

What comes to mind when you hear, “white leaders,” or “the white community?”  If you are white, ask yourself, who is qualified to speak for your community and say what white people are thinking about any given topic?

I can’t even think of what you could say to sum up all of white Americans  in the same condescending, generalizing (I know you are all the same and have the same culture and background because you share certain obvious physical features), way that black Americans are continually lumped together by use of the descriptor “African American.”

A person who has white parents and white grandparents but who looks darker, has a broader nose and curly hair will be referred to as African American and own the history we are pummeled with each February.  They will be lumped into a very specific us (or them depending on what you look like) based solely on physical appearance.

If you are an “African American” in the public school system, you will become a project for student teachers looking for a multicultural experience.  It will be assumed that your culture and the culture of the well educated people hired to teach you cannot be the same culture even if you were born and raised only blocks apart.  You will have excuses made for any social or intellectual short comings you may demonstrate, or crusaders will pat themselves on the back for holding you to a high standard.  The system will count how many of you there are in each school in the same way they count the number of students who live below the poverty line, have learning disabilities, or don’t speak English.  They will use the number of your “African American” peers as a factor in estimating your potential for success in your neighborhood.

Make no mistake, “African American” does not say “Respected.”  It does not say, “Just as good.”  It says, “You’re not from here, and there is another place to which you might someday return.”  It says that in this country, you are one of the

Try on these phrases. “White children in American need to learn to take pride in their race.”

“White children need to know where they came from.”

“White children in American need white role models in government, education and athletics.

Take any famous white person who commits a noteworthy crime, and pole white people to see how they feel about it.  Be absolutely sure that everyone knows the effect that the crime is having on the “white community.

The quest to foster white racial pride and unity is not more racist than the quest to foster black racial pride and unity. Both are extremely racist.  When you speak of being proud of something there is an implication that everything else is somehow less worthy of pride.  If I am proud to have achieved my African American genetics, then I have to feel glad that I am not white because being white would somehow be less.  To be proud, African America must be better than regular America.

When someone describes a person as “white” or “black,” I start to get a visual image of that person, and that is all.  I can absolutely use the descriptor “black” without skipping a beat before moving on to eye color and body type.  What does he look like?  He is black, medium build, five feet nine inches tall…

If, however, you tell me that someone is “Asian American,” “Irish American” or anything like that, I feel I am being told something about that person’s background and lifestyle.

The phrases “African America” and especially “person of color” sound to me like an attempt at saying “not white” while elevating the person being discussed.  I believe it is a failed attempt to bolster the victims of American history that segregates the person being described into a subset of people with some deeper experience or connection than mere physical features can speak to.  In reality these descriptions are just another way of lumping “us” away from “them.”  Either you are of color, or you are not.  Either you are African American or you are regular American.  Which are you?

As long as we continue to refer to white people as “white people,” referring to black people as anything other than “black people” will require just enough effort to keep us all uncomfortable with describing someone who looks the way I do.  The more we try to dress it up, the more being black will feel like it needs to be dressed up.

I think it’s silly to call all black people living in the United States “African American” and refer to black people in other countries including Africa as “black.”

Of course, there are actually African Americans in the same way that there are Italian Americans and Mexican Americans.  These people have migrated from Africa, and they bring with them a diversity of language, fashion, food and relationship structures.  They bring with them aspects of their truly African Culture.  The funny thing is that some African Americans are white.

I on the other hand, have never been to Africa.  No one I know well has lived in Africa.  I speak only English fluently. I buy my clothes based on my own personal taste and not based on any efforts to appear extra ethnic or tribal.  I choose my friends based on location and common interest, and I feel no more connected to a black stranger than to a white one.  I do not seek nor do I avoid people of any color based on their shading or the shape of their noses.

I can’t imagine any set of circumstances in which I would Answer the question, “Where are you from?” with “I am from Africa.”  I was born in Wyoming and raised in Montana. Yet I am no less physically black than if I had been born and raised in the south eastern region of the U.S.

My life is here.  I am from here, and the only family I need to connect with is here.  I do not have duel citizenship. There is no African America.

Further, while my skin is a rich brown of which I am quite pleased, I have never met a person of  “no color,” so the descriptor, “of color” is meaningless and condescending while trying to sound reverent.

As far as I know, there isn’t any evidence to show that the widespread use of the phrase “African American” or the phrase “people of color”  has done anything at all to reduce prejudice in the United States? I wonder how long we will wait for the practice of stereotyping and division to yield the desired unity and equality we claim to seek.  If the goal is for all of us to be us and for none of us to be them, we need to start living the dream.

It is my very personal opinion that, as a quick shorthand to describe the physical features of people with darker skin tone, fuller lips, broader noses, and higher cheekbones, “black” is a much better choice than “African America” and the phrase “of color” should be terminated with extreme prejudice.

Words

The words regularly chosen to express ideas, report facts, and share stories are an important indicator of a society’s values and perceptions. The old phrase, “Mighty white of you” said something about what was expected of and valued about white people at another point in our history. White was a synonym for “decent.” Do you agree that reviving that phrase for common use today might be a bad idea? I don’t know when people stopped saying things like “That was mighty white of you, Old Bean,” but I am so, so glad that most people have in fact stopped.  Unfortunately, however,  phrases that standardize and trivialize prejudice are still being regularly used, and they are insidious in the harm they continue to cause.

The widespread racial labeling used by news outlets-including those which present themselves as progressive alternatives- demonstrates our continuing failure as a nation to get beyond using race as a predictor for levels of achievement, ability, and joy.
We use “poor” and “minority” as synonyms, and we teach children this language. We use “African American” as a synonym for “victim of slavery.” We use “White” as a synonym for “Lucky and privileged.” We teach this language in our schools, and so the cycle can’t help but continue to repeat.

Recently, I listened to a podcast of a news summary on NPR. It was a very short, commentary with a positive tone about how President Obama made a call into a radio show hosted by the Mayor of Boston.  It was pointed out in the summary that the president made the call because the two men were old friends. So far so good, but then, out of the blue, the reporter informed the listener that Patrick Deval was the first black mayor of Boston.

My question is, why was the race of Deval relevant in this context? Was the racial information meant to somehow explain away the phone call? Was that what the call was about? We were not told the reason for this random bit of racial statistics. When no reason is given for random racial comments, it feels to me that the person making such comments assumes knowledge or understanding on the part of the audience that makes explanation unnecessary.

If we point out every time a black person does something that no other black person has done, are we not remaking the same tired point that black people achieve less on average than people of other races and any black person who achieves should be extra proud because success for black people is so rare? Self fulfilling prophecy much? If a listener is interested in knowing the race of a candidate or a doctor or a Nobel Lauriet, isn’t that their issue, and wouldn’t it be easy enough for that person to figure it out without it being news.  

If I tell you that three black men were arrested for attacking three Hispanic men and neglect to explain why I am giving you the racial information, mightn’t you assume that the crime was racially motivated? Isn’t that a bad a assumption for us to keep making in 2015? 

Now, let’s talk about “hate crime.” How is any form of unprovoked physical assault not a hate crime?  How is any murder not a hate crime?

When we penalize hate, we make hatred a legal issue which makes it ridiculous and seems to give logic to acts that are not logical.  It implies an excuse for inexcusable behavior.
It is always wrong to initiate unprovoked violence. It is always wrong to make someone’s workplace miserable for them. Beyond  issues such as self defense and pre-motivation, the reason for breaking the law should not matter in the court room.

Is there ever a situation a or a sentence ender that would make “I beat him bloody and spit on him because…” Or “I ran over him twice with my car because…” okay?

No that is just crazy! Hate crime statutes are another way of keeping us divided. We protect “them” from “us” and “us” from “them” differently than we protect “Us from Us” and “them from them” We are purposefully drawing lines that legally separate people based on race, sexual preference, religion etc.  We are formalizing prejudice and giving it power.
Why are the people we depend on for news continuing to paint the facts with a racially charged brush?  What does this choice say to listeners (here and abroad) about public perspective and values?

Frankie Valinda Ghee

Come join me for free music.  I’ll be out for a couple of hours at least.  Huckleberries even has a nice outdoor seating area.

Frankie

People who live in glass houses are asking for it (people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones)

If wishes were fishes…your cat would kill you for food (If wishes were fishes, we’d all have enough to eat)

It’s always darkest when your flashlight batteries have run out (it’s always darkest before the dawn)

Kill the messenger.  It will make you feel a little bit better (don’t kill the messenger)

Just for fun…I’m not really this cynical

A friend in need is a friend you’ll see often  (a  friend in need is a friend indeed)

Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes your joints hurt when it’s about to rain (whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger)

Every cloud has a target (every cloud has a silver lining)

A penny saved will get you laughed out of the bank (a penny saved is a penny earned)

Save the rod…and stay out of prison (save the rod and spoil the child)

You can catch more flies when you’re not trying to catch flies (you can catch more flies with honey)

Out of the frying pan…for the love of Pete get out of the frying pan! (out of the frying pan and into the fire)

Do unto others what makes them mention you in their will (do unto others as you would have them do unto you)

Hello All,

I am back working on “Tonic Island Tonic” after being out of sync and in and out of town for a couple of weeks.  I am writing it rough and in real time.  My plan is to post chapters as soon as they make sense.  I am reserving the right to go back and make revisions later, but sharing the inprogress stuff is rather motivating.  I’m not sure what will happen or where it will go, but at least it will be out there.  Right?

Chapter 2 is coming together.  I’m pretty excited about the picture that is coming into focus.

Stay Tuned.

In the mean time, check out some of my older posts for short stories, poetry and music

Frankie

CHAPTER ONE: PATIENT ZERO

To  the minds of the  twenty-seven extremely high clearance bureaucrats and scientist involved in the “Tonic” project, Dillon Fairfax was the ideal subject for testing.  The first eight months of monitoring the young man’s online buying, viewing and social habits had confirmed that the recruiters were on the right track. Then followed ten months of full-on, full-time surveillance during which Dillon’s every word and deed no matter how trivial or how intensely private was documented and commented upon. This cemented Dillon’’s name to  the top of the initially extensive list of  “volunteers.”

What made Dillon perfect and sealed his fate was a combination of  his attitudes, interests and physical attributes.  His long term girlfriend, one Julie Mann, aerobics instructor and cat lover,  liked to call Dillon the “king of placebos.”  Fairfax had two shelves in his kitchen cupboard, above the large metallic sink and the dirty microwave-safe dishes and plastic cutlery, full of homeopathic treatments, enhancers, stimulants and vitamins.  His bathroom counter had a variety of creams, lotions and washes that were not for sale at Walgreens or Walmart.  Dillon was a “special order” kind of guy, and he enthusiastically opened every brown UPS package and patriotic FedEx envelope that was handed him or that he retrieved from the shelter of the back porch (where the regular delivery folks were used to leaving packages when Dillon wasn’t at home). He greeted each new delivery with certainty that the pills or potions it contained would help him to live a better, more satisfied life.

In spite of Dillon’s general laid-backness in areas such as house-keeping and car maintenance, Dillon had an excellent work ethic and could be counted on to be where he was expected on time and appropriately dressed.  What made Dillon attractive to the  powers that be, however was the fact that Dillon was  meticulous about his supplements.  He followed the directions on every package insert or  label and gave every treatment at least a full cycle (usually about a month) before relegating it to the back of the shelf to be tried again at some nebulous future date when whatever it was that kept the magic from happening during this first dosing might have righted itself.

Another point in Dillon’s favor was his his lack of wariness concerning his privacy.  In a way that went much farther than Julie’s “why fight it? They know everything anyway” attitude, Dillon actually believed that there was no threat to his privacy.  Why would anyone want to monitor someone like him?  Dillon believed that his mundane existence and lack of political involvement was all the protection he needed from the prying eyes of Big Brother.

Without fear of consequence, Dillon  jumped right on board with every scientific or technological advance he read about or that one of his favorite sports celebrities or burned out rock musicians testified about on television or youtube or twitter..  While Julie waited to let the public find the bugs and problems with new products, Dillon dove all the way in without even pretending to test the water.  If it was new, and he could afford it, Dillon bought it.  He was one of the first to get the iPhone and everything that came after.  All of his devices were set to the lowest privacy setting.  He willingly allowed every app to access his photos, address book and his location. He was a fervent consumer of twitter and youtube and absolutely loved Facebook because it allowed him to feel connected to a large network of  people without having to make time for anyone and without having  to invite anyone into his home.    It never occured to Dillon that he was inviting virtually everyone into his home.

Dillon opened emails with enticing subject lines even from strangers.  Yet, to Julie’s amazement, Dillon had never had his identity stolen, and all of his computer software seemed to be running bug free.  Dillon like most of the general population, made very little attempt to understand the science behind the devices he used or the supplements he ingested.  He was unconcerned by phrases like “proprietary blend,”  “secret ingredient,” and “side effects may include.”

He was trusting, and except for the rare abdominal discomforts, transient rashes, and occasional mood-swings, trust had so far cost Dillon very little.

Dillon fit several other requirements of the Tonic project.  His age was right.  Dillon was thirty-seven years old which made him old enough to show some physical signs of aging.  Plus he was right in the middle of the physical fitness bell-curve for his age group.  He was reasonably but not overly active.  He spent quite a bit of time behind the wheel of his work vehicle, but he was in and out of the car at least 30 times each shift.  He had a membership at a local health club, which he took advantage of two or three times a week, usually hitting the stair machine or treadmill for thirty minutes and following with random weight lifting concentrated mostly on upper-body work.

If it wasn’t for his steady diet of candy bars, take-out and beer, Dillon would have been much too fit for the study, but as it was,  Dillon was in good, but not great shape.  He was average for a man his age.

As a courier for a local medical laboratory, Dillon was in a position to casually influence hundreds of people.  He was open and out-going with a personality that invited conversation and sharing of confidences.  He was one of the those people to whom bartenders and grocery store clerks shared intimate details of their personal lives as they handed him drinks and receipts.

Dillon was an only child with no living parents, and although he had a huge network of acquaintances, admirers, and clients, he had very few close friends.  He lived with Julie Mann, his girlfriend of seven years, but, like Julie, wasn’t in contact with any extended family.  This lack of social responsibility meant that if necessary, Dillon’s extraction would be easy to handle and anything unforeseen would be manageable.

Dillon’s decision to order that first bottle of “Tonic Island tonic” was inevitable.  The packaging, labeling and website were all designed just for him. The advertisement came as a pop-up that interrupted Dillon while he was reading an article about the drug overdose and death of an 80’s hair band celebrity. Dillon didn’t even notice that the full page that took over his computer didn’t even offer him a way to exit out without choosing to “learn more.”

Dillon innocently clicked on the link and his first bottle of tonic was being charged to his Capitol One card, less than 3 minutes later.

Tonic Island Tonic was reported to be an all-natural completely safe supplement with absolutely no side effects.  It was going to make him more muscular.  He would enjoy increased stamina and need less sleep.  It was all going to be good.