I am broken, beaten, and I am an angry Black man. My thoughts are not cogent. They are unfetteredly raw.
Watching the video and witnessing king George’s breath rushing out of his body as he pleads to recapture it, was virulent. He desired to ascend his throne. However, the unhinged act of unknightliness prevented him.
Understand this, the coup d’état of racism has transpired. Gone are the days wherein it was the latent putrid underbelly of the American culture. It is now woefully exposed without restraint. The hangings from trees, the burning crosses on our lawns, the “for colored only” signs, the insults, beatings, water hosing, the unleashing of the attack dogs, and the incessant intimidations, are tame. The brutality of the police and the system they are paid by to enforce these racist laws, at our peril, is egregious.
Our kingship is offensive because it highlights their fragility. In light of this, our reign is deliberately shortened. As Black people we are royal. My fellow Black kings, our reign is threatened not because we are inferior. We are built to endure. We be strong as a clinched fist fighting against oppression. The enduring spirit residing in us is a menace to those whose minds have been weakened by propaganda’s buffoonery.
You once illegally controlled our Black bodies and minds, to do your indecent and heinous pleasure. Before the Civil War, for your benefit, you painted us as docile and manageable savages. Then came the Civil War and the beginning of the period of Reconstruction. Our growth and return to our natural state of social, economic, and political sovereignty threatened your way of life.
In response, to our acquisition of power, people of color were stripped, flogged, and killed in the public square to detour our collective advancement. The docile and manageable narrative was recast to “the Birth of a Nation” violent. We, Black kings, were previously labeled as Black brutes, now we are called thugs and our queens labeled as open sores, to justify the impenitent brutality towards us.
King George, uneasy is the head that wears the crown. Your crown could not be taken without being shackled and a bended knee upon your neck and back. George, your temporary situation did not tarnish your crown, it polished to a threatening brilliance. At some point, they, who are lighter than us, will have to bow in recognition of our royal humanity. However, we never thought, it would have been at your demise.
I am broken, I am angry, I am sad, I am overwhelmed, I am speechless, I am—I am—I am CRYING!
About the Author: Mark Hamilton
I serve as the Family Life Pastor at Metropolitan Baptist Church in Hollywood, Florida. I am a husband to Jacquie, and a father to 3 Black sons. See my website The Angry Black Man Speaks.
