Love for Family in Black American Culture.

It is very difficult to find grounds for Black American Culture. To be a mom or dad, a sibling or lover. In America we are made to believe that we come all these different parts of Africa or some country other than America. We believe that we have no right to any here- are told continuously. Physiologically beat by disbeliefe, misguidance, misinterpretation and judgement. How can one live prosperously if all decks are stacked up against you. Loving your family is hard these days, left to be manipulated by outsiders and so called friends. Wheres that old feel at. We so concentrated on becoming apart of cultures instead of being a culture of our own. The style of dressing, cooking, and a lot other craziness is all constructed by us, so called slaves. I think we Black American should sit back and see who we are as a culture. Cause everyone we claim disown us. Peace to all people.

Our Children… So close but so far !


I can remember back when I was young and things were so different . There was your fatherless homes. Young mothers. Young fathers. And grandparents raising their grandchildren. At that time in the 80’s it was about the mother and father animosity towards one another. In those days children has to go from home to home week to weekend. Now children has more rights than their parents. Divorcing their parents ( Kevin Kloster ). The disrespect. It seems our children are grown. How did this all happen ? The blame for our collapse of our cultural descends back so much

man wearing black hoodie beside boy wearing orange long sleeved polo shirt
Photo by Peace Alberto Iteriteka on

He Hope, She Hope, They Hope (family, Pain and Faith)


As he speed down I-95 recklessly

He looks in his rear view mirror thinking about the argument he just had with his wife

His decisions, their child, their life

In his past he had made plenty mistakes but none like this

How could he have let it happen – there are things you just don’t !

And what happen  is just …… bad

He hopes she can forgive him. He hope she will allow him to explain. He hope all the great memorabilia of their pas rain just rain down on her. He hope …………


Her breath and heart is…is skipping beats.

She can not control her feeling, her anger

It’s the walls, their closing

She leer at their son in pain knowing the grief his dad has shamed their home with

How could he ? Why would he ? Calling her home, Their home..?

She couldn’t stop pacing the dinning room floor thinking on her next move

She hope he understand the effect his derived. The trust, limited. She hopes that his action could rub off on his son. She hope he know he’s about to lose a good. She hope that  some way they can try too….. She hope…..

He steps out the car, shuts the door and take a deep breath. It was time to prepare himself. Time to face his wife.

She had falling to sleep. The car door had awaken her . She looked at the clock which read 1:30 am. It was late but she had to prepare herself for which was to come..

He opened the front door to their home and walked in. It was quite. He removed his jacket than placed it on the coat rack.

She stood to her feet as soon as the door open. She saw his shadow on the wall reflecting from the kitchen light.

He hope they can make it through the night and talk it out.

She hope he wont to be to arrogant  the and hear what she has to say.

He hope she don’t start with the name calling and bringing up the past.

She hope he don’t that he don’t get outrageous and destroy things in their home like last time.

She hope.

He hope.

They hope the other is thinking about their child. They hope the other will be open to hear the other out. They hope their home can remain a home.

He hope. She hope. They hope!


We both vent disgust and content, trying to manage our agenda from years of extent…

…… extent of shallow behavior and blame on one another ! Is there anyone else tired of hearing the bull how black Men or black Woman treat the white counter parts better ?

– Or how about the Gold Digger and The Bum Man ? They’re becoming self reflecting. We believe this of one another in our Spirits. We fight the growth of a once beautiful nation, ignoring independence and love for one another. Allowing outsiders to destroy us with only protest and prayers as their consequences. But when it comes to our own we want death – more baffling, we hand our people over to the same people who devoted their lives to punishing us for whatever seed of mustard we have. How can a nation win when we’re so cynical of one another. We live by these false rule we thought we made up to make whatever our plans or organization work. Truth is, we are giving plans and ideals.Look what we have become ! How many people write – not print ?! How many people taught their babies how to write ? Big question ? Do we sit with our children and still do those things ?Do your children name have meaning or just sounds good.

What are your favorite clothing line, your favorite shoes ? These are’ Get you leaned on’ questions in our communities. At the risk of having nothing we’ll risk it all. And when someone of our own tries to help or give advice… boy ! We are not kind to one another. We are not kind to our families. We are not kind to ourselves.

It’s wild how we will put our trust in others and not our owns. I mean you tell me the difference from some mother or old lady selling diners ( black) and the carry out’s we gobble up every day ? I’ll tell you business license . Not a problem, $200 solves that. Yet, even still we rather spend our money some where else. It’s like we hate to see or help one another grow. And the few that do have would love to help but know all we would do is blow it. That why, if you do get some money from a rich black person, something happened. And not to say we all are like that. No ! There are thousands of us out here. Some with bad passes. Some recovery. And some who always has. And in each of those characters are pitiful people. Those who twist the rules of our culture for personal gains. Exercising their rights as blacks nefariously. Man and Woman. Us the finger pointers. The lost. The stolen. The slaved. The misbehaved. The forgotten. The tortured. The humiliated. The misinformed, misseducated. Never given the opportunity to truly earn our rights.

Our rights to build our own without some white racists jerk talking about we wont replace them. You fear us that much ? All apart of the bigger game.

Black Men and Woman, this missive came from a mind yet fully understanding why we as black allow and do this to ourselves most important. There are always going to be issues in our circles, but do we have to be so extreme with one another. With it all… No way out if we keep follow their tradition. Your holidays aren’t always special because they’re not yours. Your ideals don’t work cause it’s not yours.