May 21, 2009
Tupac Shakur,
Before I pour my soul into the arena of knowledge, I make it known that I am drinking and smoking. How else would I pay homage to the great dissenter of our generation? I pay tribute to you, Nigga
(Never Ignorant Getting Goals Accomplished), by recognizing first and foremost that you could not get out of your own way. You're a microcosm of the young, black male: great potential and ability together with immeasurable logic and passion, but what? What is it that stands in the way of the young, black male? If Nigga means, Never Ignorant Getting Goals Accomplished, then we ain't Niggas and do not deserve to be called a Nigga!
My Nigga! You once said, “I am the beginning of the revolution.” My Nigga! I am hopelessly stricken of writing and attending to race, ethnic and/or national needs, that the more I write, the more it seem mothafuckas is hating and destroying life, sabotaging it. And irregardless of this madness, I continue to find a rationale to attend to the needs of my niggas. You made me aware of my responsibility, to be passionately angry with the status quo because not being a nigga is worth a thousand deaths, right? So I walk two tracks: Advocacy and Writing. I am emboldened by the feedback coming from exploring and applying dissent: next step in the revolution process.
We must understand that a nigga is not dwarfed; he's a fucking giant, a king like King Leonits. Like 300 Spartans rallied behind their king and their country, A group of niggas, like-minded and goal-oriented, will engage and prevent white manhood from continuing on with its perpetual assault on Our Life, Our Liberty and Our Pursuit of Happiness. Because who in the fuck really believes that white manhood cares about a minorities' unlimited freedom? My Nigga, Our Nigga, you helped me understand that 'we' must hunger for Better Dayz; days where weed and other natural herbs are more prevalent than Abilify, Depakote and/or Lithium; and days where IBM and its breaking of the petaflop barrier is not the answer for a better and smarter world. No, No my nigga. Not only do I watch misery and death enslave my people, I am also subjected to how white manhood has usurped the will of Our God, my God, my nigga. Is the world in a frenzy because of Our God's promises or is the world in a frenzy because of man's inability to flush its own shit? “REBOUND STOCK MARKET!” is no different than asking something other than Our God for support; idol worshipping.
My nigga, it was you against the world. You, the dissenter against popular understanding, which leads to death a thousand deaths. You have managed to leave a scar upon white manhood because you are remembered and honored; which translates to a possible daunting transformation, if we niggas went up against the world, to fatally wound it. Like you my nigga, it is only the beginning. I attend because fighting white manhood and winning the prize of unlimited freedom is worth it, “Give me liberty or give me death”, right? Fighting white manhood is attending to the needs of the world, and such a fight requires a Nigga. My life for this cause and death for this life!
You was a good man, whose heart and mind was open to the cries of people, so your nights were troubled and your days were spent pissed. You was a dissenter. And, because your black status restricted you from unlimited freedom, your wrath was unleashed on those who unintentionally opposed you. You was blessed with that wrath for challenging the status quo and undermining popular understanding, but you got sidetracked, my nigga; which speaks even more to your influence, because despite being sidetracked, you set the revolution in motion. You accomplished your goal. You did not die a thousand deaths, My Nigga!
Also, My God, Our God, do not “...bless the dead” for they cannot do anything with their blessing; but bless the living, bless my niggas, bless them all.
P.S.
As if in an ancestral tribal ritual, I will burn this letter and let the smoke rise up to Our God, my God, as a way of letting you go; and re-energizing the dissent.
