2014

  If one may have thought that my Fall 2013 semester was one to remember the following semester in the spring of 2014 beats it to the punch. Taking three courses I received important life lesson from each one. For three days of the week I had a Speech 100 class. For two days of the week I had a English (ENG) 101 class. My last course of the week was an Asian-American History class (ASN 114).  

   Traveling through piles of snow I remember the first day I attended my Speech 100 class like it was yesterday. Before any topic regarding the course were ever discussed the professor caught my eye's attention. This was done without words or threaten body language. Yeah, there she was in the front of the class leaning on the long desk that are in most places of learning. Her height was the average 5ft,2in. Her weight at that time was probably between 130lbs to about 150lbs. To top off her dreads and good taste in fashion (or attire) she was a black woman. I'm talking about no other than professor and playwright Antoinette Nwandu.

  This was not your average black woman that can hold a job at a place of higher learning. To simply put it this woman's journey consist of three places: Crenshaw, Harvard, and NYU. It was as if her testimony lived through her and she stood on it until she became what she was. From late January to late May it would be her duty to teach us how to stand on our testimony and tell it to the world.  

  As I can recall we started every class (including the first one) with a simple exercise. It basically involved the students making room to form a wide circle. While in this circle (along with the professor) one by one you were to talk about/or discuss your current conditions and reality. In other words you were sharing to the class what was going on in your life. Whether it good or bad you stood up right and shared what needed to be shared.

  Being a 19 year-old fresh out of high school I felt that this was just a creative exercise that colleges come up with. However, as an adult I see that it was preparing me for some challenges ahead. Through good and bad times one must stand strong in their beliefs and actions. Especially, if your a person of color living in this country we call The United States of America.

  "A person's attire is just as important as their message." One will learn this while taking Speech 100 (or any other course that involves presentations). To be honest I felt like I was going to church on every presentation date. Come to think of it I liked it as time went on. Shit, I felt like the President of the United States.

  After making a speech commemorating my mother I walked out of this course with my head held high.  

  Sitting in a classroom inside the Fiterman Hall Building myself and others were in a livid state. The reason for our state of being pissed was due to the fact that professor Jill Richardson would've be instructing our English (ENG) 101 class for the spring of 2014. The replacement for Richardson was a woman we will call Dr. Fish. This woman was the holder of a PhD and wanted things her way. If prejudice and bigotry had to be put themselves in a human being Dr. Fish would make the perfect fit.

   Think about it. A good question would be do mid-aged white people with PhD's even care for the struggles of young African-Americans and Hispanics? What? Wait? No answer? I thought so.

   Classes were so cold and rigid. Myself along with my other classmates were driven crazy by the random pop quizzes. Every topic was picked by her. I use to love it when we would shift the discussions. It drove Dr. Fish and we knew it.

   Speaking of driving professor's crazy I had a tactic of my own. Out of a dozen students I felt as if Dr. Fish hated me the most without any real cause. Knowing how hard she would critique my papers I played a game with her. The goal was to go against every belief she held dear. For example there was a time when we discussed the Occupy Wall Street movement and it's causes and effects. Instead of citing what I learned from the Occupy movement (positively) I went in the opposite direction as to why I disagreed with it (which I really didn't). Although the paper was heavily critiqued it still drove Dr. Fish nuts. Maybe I was up to something. No one knows from this very day.  

   Walking out of this course with a grade brought by integrity I finally learned how hard it was for black men in places of higher stature. I do not fault Dr. Fish or people like her because they know not what they do.

  On Friday afternoons I couldn't wait to answer a question or start a dialogue. The professor for the Asian-American History class (ASN 114) course was sweet and knowledgeable but she wasn't the reason for the season. During this course they were three individuals that I got to know closely. These three characters were Ahkeem, Rosaria, and Briana.

  Ahkeem was a ladies man that was in a deep search for God (literally). One moment he was a righteous brother the next moment he was chasing some chick. Subconsciously, I use to laugh at this but I never judged him. Me and Ahkeem use to talk about all types of stuff from racism to conspiracy theories such as the Illuminati. In other words we talked our shit and had fun. Wherever he may be in this stage of his existence I wish him the best.  

  Rosaria was one of the sweetest young women that I have ever met. She was the type that you didn't mind studying or have a conversation with. To my surprise (and many others) she was an Afro-Dominicana. Having a disdain for black women (in regards to attraction) she may have given me second thoughts. The girl's soul was beautiful indeed.

   My first time meeting Briana I thought she was an innocent emo. My reason for saying this was because of her rampant mood swings and her excessive wearing of dark shaded clothes. Out of all four of us she was the real character indeed. There's this train of events that are always replaying in my head (even as I'm writing this).  

   One particular class we went to this exhibit in Brooklyn. The exhibit was in this shelter looking building. You know those places that most charter schools are put in. They have there own bathrooms and running water. The whole nine yards.  

   Every room had art and pictures of profound Asian-Americans that have laid some type of groundwork in NYC. The time periods discussed were the late 1960's-1980's. I really enjoyed it. Almost every question was answered by me (or something of that manner).  

   Finally, the exhibit was finished. Ironically speaking we all stood in a particular area before getting to our belongings. Me and Ahkeem were talking for a couple of seconds. Out of nowhere Briana appears next to Ahkeem. One can say that she crashed the party. I was use to her doing this. Those two became love birds for a short time.  

   Feeling the need of self-entertainment I gave the two some space. Distancing myself from them Ahkeem gave me big-ups on my knowledge of history. Briana on the other hand called me a "weirdo." That shit hurt more than a punch by Mayweather. I hope she didn't think I was into her. Matter of fact I do remember being a bit "bia-ish" at the time. I'm more of a hetero still (just so you know).  

   Without saying goodbye to anyone (even the professor) I took my stuff and left. While riding the 5 train from the Barclays Center to Baychester Av was the last time I would let anybody make me ashamed of who I was as a person. For the remainder of the semester I kept a fence between myself and Briana. Yeah, we still talked and what not, but I never saw her in the same light ever again.

   Through good and bad memories these three individuals played a big part in my development to the highest avail. If I had a glass of any alcoholic beverage I would make a toast towards the sky and say God bless.  

   Closing I would like to give a dedication to one of these individuals. Here it goes:

   Don't let the world name you.
   Nor let the corporates hang you.
   Boy don't they try to tame us?
   That's like telling an eagle how to fly.
   That's like telling a lion when to roar.
   Stay up dude.
   Always straighten up your crown every morning.
   You have to remember that black royalty is born and dies at an alarming rate.
   Hope you get your time out this shit before it runs out.
  If our paths never cross I wish you nothing but love and paradise.- Searching For Brother Ahkeem by Malcolm Montgomery