2012...or 1912?

2012: The Year the Pot Finally Boiled Over 
2012: The Year America's Caged Monster Finally Broke Free
2012: The Year the Country's Dirty Little Secret Went Viral
2012: The Year a Dark Past Emerged From The Shadows
2012: The Year We Realized We Were Never Really "Free."

I've been daydreaming about future headlines for awhile now. With so much going on in the news, I can't help but think that it's time.

It's that realization moment when it becomes apparent that what happens next is up to you. Up to me. At 22-years old, I'm the same age as most of the Freedom Riders (pictured above) who left college to risk their lives on a journey through the deep South to challenge Jim Crow. I'm the same age as many of the protestors who marched in strength and solitude for Emmett Till. As I prepare to leave college and embark on a life that will be guided solely by my own decisions, I've come to the realization that the Special Prosecutor's announcement is a direct challenge at me, my peers and our future children.

In just four months since the start of the new year, the black community has already suffered the loss of too many as a result of bigotry and racism. Trayvon Martin was killed in cold blood 43 days ago; his murderer is still not in custody. On March 24, 19-year old college student, Kendrec McDade, was shot and killed after being wrongfully suspected of having a weapon. Four days ago, Howard Morgan was sentenced to 40 years in prison after being shot 28 times by police officers while he was working as an off-duty police officer. This past weekend, innocent black pedestrians in Tulsa, Oklahoma were gunned down by two racist white men.

Is this 2012 or 1912? As we continue forward toward this year's presidential election, I can't help but wonder about what else the year has in store and how my generation will respond. The Black Panther party has already reorganized into a more modern, yet just as radical version. Racial tension is at an all-time high right now, and I know that if something doesn't happen soon these rallies could quickly turn into riots. But would you riot?

Mark my words: The events of this year could forever be recorded in history as a turning point for this country and its continued struggle with its dark past. The headline may even look similar to what I imagined above. But how will our response fit into that story? How will our generation be described? What will you tell your grandchildren when they ask you about it?

It's not just time; it's our time. I think it's time to stand up and regroup. What happens next is up to us.

Get Over It: Why Black People Need to Lighten Up

Face it – black people like chicken.

It can be baked, barbequed, broiled, slow roasted, kabob’d or grilled; but let's be honest, you like it best when it’s fried. There’s nothing like the crispy, juicy, down home comfort of a crunchy, perfectly-spiced chicken breast. Your mama made it, her mama made it, her mama’s mama made it and her mama’s mama’s mama probably made it on somebody’s plantation. Fried chicken runs as deep as the blood, sweat and tears of our ancestors and is an undeniably integral part of our culture as black Americans. We cook it, we eat it, we talk about it and if you look anything like Mary J. Blige, you’re mostly likely singing about it too (see video on right).

Too much? Well, if you didn’t even kind-of smile at that last paragraph I have two words for you: LIGHTEN UP! It’s time for us to start treating silly generalizations as what they are – silly generalizations. It’s like the black community is in a permanently crouched position – waiting, carefully watching for someone to slip up and do or say anything seemingly offensive that we can rant about. From racist bumper stickers, to ignorant tweets to stereotype-charged advertising, we’ve slowly become the that was racist-patrol. We have to understand that most generalizations are based in some sort of fact and laugh about it. We also have to understand that people tend to hate and fear what they don't understand. Most importantly, we, as a community, have to realize that our constant defensiveness is what gives blatant ignorance its power.

In regards to Mary J. Blige, the 'queen of ghetto love' recently decided to partner with Burger King to promote their new crispy chicken wrap. In a voice filled with the soul we all know and love, she sang “crispy chicken, fresh lettuce, three cheeses, ranch dressing, wrapped up in a tasty flour tortilla!” like the rent was past due. I’ll be the first to admit it – when I saw the commercial, I couldn’t help but bob my head and snap to the catchy beat. When the commercial was over, I laughed and shook my head. In no way did I feel that Mary J. Blige making a personal decision to sing about fried chicken had tarnished my brand. Matter of fact, the tune has been stuck in my head ever since. Nevertheless, Burger King pulled the commercial after backlash from viewers who said the commercial was racist.

The truth is, to be a famous and successful black American is to carry the weight of the black community on one’s shoulders. We automatically realize the fact that there may not be many in our position and that the image we project to the general population may be one of the only positive impressions of blacks to which they’re exposed. We realize that how we speak, behave and react is being judged at all times by our paler counterparts and we respond accordingly.

But is it fair? Is it fair to me that the silly decisions Mary J. Blige makes for her brand could affect how people view me? Is it fair to aspiring black actresses that they could be discounted in regards to larger lead roles because of the roles that actresses like Gabourey Sidibe, Octavia Spencer, Viola Davis and even the late Hattie McDaniel have chosen to take? Is it fair that young black boys like Trayvon Martin have to fear for their lives because of young thugs who share nothing but a similar complexion?

No. It’s not fair. And while some may argue that life isn’t fair and “it is what it is,” I decided long ago that wasn't going to own y'all's “raggedy shit” (credit to Raven). I’ve got enough of my own to deal with. Yes, I’m black. No, I don’t like fried chicken. Yes, I’m black. No, I'm not plotting to attack you because I’m wearing a hoodie. Yes, I’m black. No, my first language is not “Ebonics.” I’m not a dropout, I don’t aspire to be the next Nicki Minaj and I am not illiterate (my excellent reading comprehension actually made it clear to me that both Rue and Thresh were black prior to viewing The Hunger Games on opening night - but that’s another conversation).

There comes a time when you have to be able to laugh at yourself and more importantly, laugh at other people. Don’t own those generalizations. Realizing that your success is not based on someone else’s decisions and choosing to be your own unique brand is the first step to fighting stereotypes.

- Jess