The Lion Sleeps Tonight

It’s hard to believe that it’s now been 20 years since I used to watch The Lion King every day with my two and a half year old cousin.  We watched The Lion King like she was studying it for her Master’s thesis.  We would watch The Lion King three or four times a day.  “Watch it again, Miss Avity!  Avity!  Watch it again!”  We sang the songs together, we did the dances; suffice it to say that I was extremely knowledgeable about that movie.  Every time we watched it, every single solitary time, she would ask me some existential, philosophical, metaphysical question that a 2 year old should not have even been able to ask.  She asked questions that I couldn’t answer and that would have me stumped as to how to respond.  I would struggle to explain to this beautiful, inquisitive little girl about the concepts of life, death, and morality and how it all wove together in a movie about a damn lion.

Here I am today, two decades later, and I’m still very much struggling with the concepts of life and death and morality as it pertains to Simba’s cousin, Cecil.  (You didn’t see him in the movie?  He didn’t have a speaking role so it was easy to miss him. He was the one that had black on his mane.)    Anyway, Cecil the Lion was a “famous” lion who was hunted and killed as a part of a blood-sport safari package.  His killer, Walter Palmer, is a dentist from Minnesota who paid $50,000 for the thrill of killing Cecil.   I must, out of necessity, put the word famous in quotes because Cecil wasn’t really famous.  It wasn’t like he was a Barnum & Bailey star performer that millions of people had grown up loving; he wasn’t the lion that ate Siegfried.  Or was that Roy?  Anyway, he didn’t have his own reality show; he wasn’t on a t-shirt.  He wasn’t the latest toy craze he; didn’t have a stuffed animal fashioned after him that parents had to get their children because they were having meltdowns in Toyz R’ Us.  Cecil wasn’t even on social media.  He didn’t have a Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook page; there were no memes with Cecil’s image that had gone viral.  The nation is mourning a lion that . . . 99.9% of the people in this country had never heard of before his death, in a country that 95% of the people can’t find on a map if you paid them.  But, oh, poor Cecil.  Oh the horror, oh the tragedy.  Posthumously, Cecil has become the nation’s golden child.  Their outrage and fury have reached a fevered pitch over the death of poor Cecil that is unparalleled. 

Walter Palmer is a wanted man.  Everyone is out for his blood.  Every conceivable form of social media has got him in their crosshairs.  He’s had to shut down his dentistry, he’s in fear for his life; there is even talk of extraditing him back to Zimbabwe to have him prosecuted.  Celebrities are speaking out, people are crying.  Walter Palmer is the most hated man in America. 

I will tell you this, and of this I am 100% positive, if Walter Palmer had killed a Black man in cold-blooded murder, all caught on video, right here in these United States of America, he would be a national hero right now.  He would have a GoFundMe account where people would donate millions of dollars to him.  He would be the bastard love child of Fox News and the NRA.  White people would be OUTRAGED if there was talk of prosecuting him.  People would find ways to excuse his actions as long as his victim was a Black man.  People would be chanting his name, only this time, it would be to hoist him on their collective shoulders and cheer him on as not only innocent, but justified in his actions. 

White America cheers when a Black person is murdered in cold blood.  They celebrate it.  Every day in a national holiday when a Black person is killed in this country because it’s always their fault.   They shouldn’t have been so uppity.  They shouldn’t have been so menacing.  They shouldn’t have resisted.  They shouldn’t have been walking in a neighborhood they didn’t belong.  They shouldn’t have been playing in the park or buying a toy in Wal-mart.  Clearly, he shouldn’t have been running away or working on his own car in his own driveway.  She shouldn’t have been sleeping on the sofa or asking for help for her broken car.  They shouldn’t have been driving without a license or had a broken tail light because those are crimes punishable and justifiable by death.  They shouldn’t have been arrested 20 years ago.  In essence, they shouldn’t have been a NIGGER. 

The murderers of Eric Garner didn't get indicted. The coroner ruled his death a homicide and no one was held accountable for his death. The police department turned their backs on the Mayor for asking for further accountability after the incident. People posted pictures of themselves wearing t-shirts saying, "I Can Breathe," they posted videos of themselves being choked like it was funny. LEGIONS of white people posted online, justifying the murder of Eric Garner for resisting arrest, saying he shouldn't have been selling cigarettes, saying he was fat and it was his fault. Yeah, but poor Cecil the Lion though.

Walter Palmer’s life is in ruin.  He was forced to issue a lie, I mean an apology saying that he didn’t realize that he had killed a protected animal and how very sorry he was.  Conversely, Darren Wilson said he would kill Mike Brown again if he had to do it all over.  He wasn't even the tiniest bit apologetic.  He retired from the Ferguson Police Department amidst rumors that he had in excess of a million dollars donated to his defense fund.  A fund, incidentally, that he never had to use because he was never even indicted.  His flimsy story, contradicted by every eye-witness, even by the autopsy report, was never questioned by John W. Public.  (I’ll give you two guesses what the W stands for.)  The public swallowed it hook, lie, and sinker.  White people went so far as to photoshop pictures of Darren Wilson making him look bloody and bruised when in actuality, all he had was a case of rosacea.  White America said that Mike Brown DESERVED to die because he stole some cigars.  No, this isn’t 1815 when Black men were killed for minor offenses all the time, when whites would kill niggers for any tiny infraction.  I want you to listen very closely to what white people are trying to say.  White people are boldly proclaiming, loud and clear, that they want to go back to the good old days when they could murder Blacks for offending their lily-white sensibilities.   Being Black in America is a crime.  Being poor in America is a crime.  Being under-educated and unemployed in this country is a crime punishable by death. 

George Zimmerman has shown the world time and time again that he’s volatile and unstable, that he’s actually a thug.  But the overwhelming number of white people believe that he was justified in killing Trayvon Martin because he was in fear for his life, intimidated by the big, Black man who clearly was not where he was supposed to be.  Lions are predators.  They are one of the most vicious animals on the planet.  They kill for food, they kill for territory, they kill for control.  Where are the tweets about how Cecil deserved to die, how he was a threat, where is the defense of Walter Palmer for killing a threat to society? 

Black lives don’t matter.  Racism is not in the past, don’t let it go.  Racism is alive, well, racism is flourishing and thriving with the help of Fox News, the anonymity of the internet, and the unabated ego of white people.  The evidence is there, as plain as day, that white people loathe Black people, they value animal life more than Black human lives.  Kid yourself if you want, delude yourself into believing that the presence of a Black President or interracial relationships symbolize the end of racism, that the playing field is level in some way but I promise you that there are white people in relationships with Black partners and people who voted for Obama who have justified and excused the murder of Black lives in this country because the victims weren’t educated enough, weren’t assimilated enough, weren’t “white” enough.  And I can promise you, that some of the loudest and most virulent and repulsive racist voices, those espousing the most heinous and prejudiced beliefs are the very same people OBSESSED with Black sexuality in secret. 

I went to an exhibition on lynching once.  It showed pictures of white people gathered around corpses of burning, dismembered Black bodies, smiling and happy like it was a day at the fair.  White people used to send out invitations to lynchings, they sent out postcards with pictures of Black people hanged like charcoal piñatas.  White people would put the severed genitalia of Black men on display in jars of the people they murdered.   If that isn’t the height of racism, if that isn’t the epitome of arrogance, I really don’t know what is.  Racism is deeply-ingrained in American culture and nothing has changed.   We are still hated, vilified, and stalked like prey, like wild game on a safari.  Am I supposed to believe that the same people who dress up like Trayvon Martin for Halloween and who troll Black websites to call Black people niggers are not the same people who would take selfies of themselves in front of the mutilated bodies of Black people today?   

I would like to conclude by saying that hunting for sport is nothing less than barbaric and should be outlawed in every corner of the planet.  Anyone who finds pleasure, entertainment, or enjoyment from killing is a sociopath and needs to be kept away from society for the collective safety of the entire animal kingdom, human beings included.  If there is one thing I’ve learned from this event, one existential question about life, death, and morality that I can now answer with certainty and authority, is that Black lives don’t mean a god damn thing in this country other than expendable entertainment for the racist, white masses. 

The Proust Questionnaire of Scottie Lowe

What is your dream of happiness?  Happiness, to me, is being fulfilled in my life.  It’s knowing true and abiding love; it’s loving and being loved by my spiritual, emotional, intellectual, political, social, and sexual equal.  Happiness is accomplishing my life’s mission of being a facilitator of social change.  Happiness is having dinner parties where everyone raves about what a wonderful time they had meeting new people and listening to music that moved their soul.  Happiness is eating food made from things grown in my garden.  Happiness is going to a small jazz club and sitting at a table right in front of the stage and being serenaded by a gorgeous brotha with a dazzling smile.   

What is your idea of misery?  Ahhh, misery and I are intimately connected.  Misery is being surrounded by people but being isolated and lonely at the same time.  Misery is having no escape from disease of mediocrity, complacency, and ghetto mentality when all you long for is communion with like-minds.  Having dreams, seeing them clearly in your mind, feeling them in your soul, and having them remain unmanifested is the very definition of misery. 

Where would you like to live?  I would always like to maintain a home in Atlanta, even if I don’t live there.  Atlanta is my spiritual center, it is the place I became the woman I am today.  I would also very much like to have homes in NYC and Miami.  I love the energy and vibrancy of New York but I hate the cold weather.  Miami is a perfect climate for me to have a botanical garden the likes of which no one has ever seen before and that will feed thousands with exotic, tropical fruits from around the world.  My twilight years will be spent in the outskirts of Nairobi, gardening, meditating, writing, and avoiding the din and the noise of technology and “civilization.”  

What qualities do you admire most in a man?  I admire HONESTY, truthfulness, veracity, and straightforwardness most in a man and any other words that are synonyms for honesty. I love a man with integrity; a man whose personal moral compass that is pointed directly towards doing what’s right, even when it’s difficult.  I tremendously respect a man who is a citizen of the world and who is not at all xenophobic, sexist, patriarchal, or misogynist.  A man who has redefined what manhood means, who has divested himself of the trappings of masculinity is a man who makes my heart skip a beat and who gets extra points in my book.  Wildly creative, intellectual, open-minded, sensual, talented men head to the front of the line.   Did I mention a man who is honest?  I am driven to distraction by a man who is a pathological truther. 

What qualities do you admire most in a woman? Hands down, without question, INTELLECT is the quality I admire most in a woman.  Not just a woman who is smart, but an IQ that is off the freakin’ charts kinda intelligent.  I respect, admire, and adore any woman who is an academic and a scholar.  I gravitate towards women who are unapologetic feminists and don’t define themselves by sexist standards of femininity and beauty.  Include in that category any Black woman who has relinquished her need to have long, straight, flowing, hair and you’ve got the complete package. 

What is your chief characteristic?  I’m going to interpret this question to mean, what is my most dominant character trait.  If I had to pick one, I’d choose . . . integrity.  Maybe there is some sort of way to sneak creativity in with that.  Let’s see.  I possess unparalleled integrity and that leads me to be the very best I can be, and that includes my relentless dedication to being the best writer I can be.  That works for me. 

What is your principal fault?  I have inherited my mother’s propensity to be unfailingly pessimistic.  I work on it.  It is certainly not as detrimental a fault as my mother possesses but I think I get into a funk where I say, “Woe is me,” rather than counting my many blessings and knowing that I have inherent value as a person. 

What is your greatest extravagance?  I don’t understand the question.  In the course of one’s lifetime, I would imagine that one would have many extravagances.  I am a lover of tea.  I love herbal teas and tisanes more than anyone should.  I’m addicted to teas.  I am always on the hunt for a new, exotic tea and I will only ever sweeten my teas with honey.  Preferably, raw, organic honey.  I guess a lot of people would identify my tea snobbishness as an extravagance. 

What faults in others are you most tolerant of?  This is a wonderful question as I’ve been accused of being judgmental in light of the recent Ashley Madison scandal.  I am tolerant of a great many faux-pas from people I love.  The people I love, however, tend to be introspective, trying to grow, evolve, and correct their mistakes, not hold on to them and certainly not trying to justify them.  I am completely intolerant of those same behaviors from people I don’t know or people who defend their heinous behaviors and deflect responsibility for the hurt that they have caused.  So, let’s say, I abhor cheating.  I loathe the individuals who cheat and who lie about it, who never take responsibility for their heinous behavior and find ways to deflect their own responsibility for their actions, and I am loving and tolerant of my close friends who have cheated and who sincerely are working on being better people and not making the same poor choices.  So, in essence, we can apply the same reasoning to a host of other ills and mistakes people make.  As long as I see inherent value in the person, and I know and love them, I’m willing to love them with all their blemishes and mistakes, as long as they are genuinely working towards evolving and healing. 

What do you value most about your friends?  Every friend brings something different to the table.  None of my friends have a singular trait consistent in all of them that makes me drawn to them.  Some friends are creative, other loyal to a fault, others are radical thinkers and innovators.  Some friends are just people I have been drawn to, whom I love unconditionally, and who I will forever love . . . just because.  I have friends who are the complete opposite me, friends who, on paper, would seem that we have nothing in common.  But some of those same friends I would go to the ends of the earth and back for.  I love hard.  My friends are people who have touched my heart in some way and they are vastly different. 

What characteristic do you dislike most in others? Lying.  Pathological liars are reprehensible to me. 

What characteristic do you dislike most in yourself? I struggle a great deal with confronting people for their behaviors that are dysfunctional.  I don’t mean close friends, I mean acquaintances.  I’m trying to find the balance between speaking my mind and letting it go.  I try to weigh the situation in my head, analyze the person’s level of consciousness and then decide if they will hear and understand what I’m saying or if they won’t process or hear me because of their own cognitive dissonance.  Even when I determine that they are too dysfunctional to see their own detrimental behaviors, I STILL have conversations in my mind, over and over and over, where I confront them.  I hate that.  I hate that I can’t just let it go.  I hate that I feel like I have some imperative to address them, even when I know that there won’t be any sort of amicable resolution.  I hate that I don’t trust my own intuition and awareness of people’s states of cognition enough to just say, “They aren’t going to change, let it go,” and have that be enough. 

What is your favourite virtue? Honesty

What is your favourite occupation?  Most people aren’t in the career of their dreams so I would guess this question is meant to be for them, to ask what they would like to do with their lives.  I am doing the occupation of my dreams so that would be my favorite.  Other than my own, I admire physicists the most.  They are my theologians.  I’m fascinated by how the universe works, how consciousness affects atoms. 

What would you like to be?  I AM already everything I want to be. 

What is your favourite colour?  My favorite colors are earth tones.  I love browns, beiges, tans  and spice colors.  I love anything in the orange family, I live rust and pumpkin, autumn colors.  I love red and burgundy and maroon.  I’m not such a lover of greens so much.  I dislike strongly gem colors.  Sapphire, Emerald, Amethyst . . . YUCK! 

What is your favourite flower?  My favorite flower is the calla-lily.  It is so exotic and gorgeous. 

What is your favourite bird?  The penguin.  My uncle turned me on to this documentary about penguins and after that, I loved them.  They mate for life and they go through this elaborate ritual where they travel for hundreds of miles to the place where they were born to give birth.  The male penguins protect their mates from the wind and elements in this gorgeous circle where they literally surround them with love.  The females give birth and then march back to the ocean to frolic and play while the males stay to nurture the eggs until they hatch then they are the primary caregivers to the babies.  Then, they all march back to the ocean to be with their mates/mothers.  To me, it is one of the most brilliant examples of how perfect the universe is.  

What historical figure do you admire the most?  I know it’s going to sound cliché but Martin Luther King, Jr. but not because of the media’s attempts to portray him as some sort of white people’s ally.  He was brave beyond measure.  He knew that his life was on the line for the change he was trying to facilitate and he didn’t back down.  He was a BRILLIANT orator.  His ability to use words compares to none.  And contrary to white, popular, racist belief, he was unapologetic in his attack on racism/whiteness, capitalism, and war.  I consider myself a student of his methods and I would like to think that I am picking up the torch and carrying it onwards, only adding gender and sexuality issues to my plate. 

What character in history do you most dislike?   Awww man, I’m going to piss off a lot a people with this one.  The character in history I dislike the most is Jesus.  Now, I don’t dislike the character of Jesus because he of how he is depicted.  He is portrayed as a pretty cool guy, someone I would love to be friends with.  He was honest, he was concerned with lifting consciousness of people, (Hey, much like myself!), he fed the hungry, he healed the sick.  He stole from the rich to give to the poor.  Wait, I think I’m getting my fictional characters mixed up.  Anyway, what’s not to like?  BUT, here’s my problem with the character of Jesus, he was a CHARACTER.  He wasn’t the son of God, he was a man, flesh and blood conceived the exact same way you and I and everyone on the planet.  God is not a man.  God is not a male in the sky.  God is not a father.  God isn’t in human form.  God isn’t even comprehensible by the human mind.  God didn’t have a son.  God didn’t impregnate anyone to have a male child.  The entire concept of God is wrong so therefore, the concept of his son can’t be real.  

“God” is pure consciousness.  “God” is the energy that animates atoms, and atoms make up every single thing in the Universe.  God is nature.  God is the seasons.  God is the perfect harmony of how everything works together.  God is not, has never been, will never be, can never be a (white) male up in the sky.  So the concept that Jesus is the son of God is bullshit. 

IF there was a person named Jesus, and there is just as much EVIDENCE to support that there was a human being that walked the earth named Jesus as there is EVIDENCE to disprove that he even existed, my issue with the concept of Jesus is that he perpetuates a belief that is detrimental to my people.  The concept of Jesus perpetuates the idea that God is outside of ourselves, that God is a male, that God is some heavenly father with petty, vindictive, human traits.  As long as the masses are tied to the belief that God is a man, that the savior is a male, as long as people believe that God had preference and bestowed one single individual with magic powers that only the big white male sky daddy can grant, we are spiritually crippled as a people.  Add to that, Jesus was the tool used to control slaves and I have got to cut him loose.  Jesus ain’t no friend of mine.

Who are your favourite prose authors?  Top three, in order.  1.  Toni Morrison.  What she does with the written word is other-worldly.  She is the best, no comparison.  I don’t even have words to describe her craft.  2.  Anne Rice.  I cheered out loud for Tale of the Body Thief and I was changed forever by Memnoch the Devil.  3.  And my most recent favorite author is Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez.  I’m addicted to him.  I’ve only read his work in English but I can only imagine that his work is even more moving in his native tongue. 

Who are your favourite poets?  I’m not a big fan of poetry.  I don’t know enough about it to know what’s good and what’s bad.  I LOVE the poetry of Rumi and I memorized his poem, “Looking for your Face,” to recite it by heart.  I have a couple of CD of Black revolutionary poetry from the 60s that I love to listen and my favorite poems from them are consistently Countee Cullen but, I’ve never been motivated enough to pick up a book so I don’t think that really counts.  That’s sort of lazy to say that he’s a favorite. 

Who are your favourite heroes in fiction?  My favortite heroes in fiction?  Can I say Jesus to redeem myself from the previous answer?  No?  OK, I’ll go with Lestat in the Vampire Chronicles.  I’m not a vampire fan.  I have never seen a Twilight movie, show, or book.  But, I was addicted to Anne Rice’s series and I went from hating Lestat to loving him and I was emotionally invested in his evolution.  Because of my multi-book relationship with him, despite the fact that there wasn’t a Black person in any of the books, I’m going to have to say he’s my favorite. 

Who are your heroes in real life?  My grandfather was the smartest, most amazing man I’ve ever met in my life. 

Who is your favourite painter?  My favorite painter is Dia Scott and my favorite sculptor is Woodrow Nash. 

Who is your favourite musician?  If I’m ever kidnapped and the kidnappers call with a ransom demand, I insist that whomever is in charge of my estate require proof of life.  If they can’t put the phone up to my mouth so that I can recite every word of “As” by Stevie Wonder, I’m dead, don’t even bother paying.  Stevie Wonder and Earth, Wind, & Fire are the only two artists I would want if I were on a desert island. 

What is your favourite food?  I am primarily a lacto-ovo pescatarian.  Essentially, that means I am a vegetarian who eats dairy, eggs, and fish.  I do eat meat, but it’s sparingly.  The meal I could have every day is salmon, a huge salad with tons of veggies and toppings, and some sort of grain.  I will never tire of eating that meal.   

What is your favourite drink?  My favorite non-alcoholic drink is fresh mango and pineapple juice.  My favorite cocktail is an Afrotini:  Vanilla Vodka, Bailey, Kahlua, and cream. 

What are your favourite names? The Jews say that the name of God cannot be pronounced or spoken.  Dey was wrong, dey was dead ass wrong.  If you are blessed enough to speak the name Adeshola Adetola, a chorus of little brown cherubs will descend from heaven and start playing the pan-flute, a few trumpets, and I’m pretty sure there will be a harpsicord in the mix as well.   I am convinced that no sweeter sounding name has ever crossed anyone’s lips in the history of mankind. 

What is it you most dislike?  Liars.

What natural talent would you most like to possess?  What is a natural talent?  What is an unnatural talent for that matter?  The talent I’d like most to possess is the ability to play the piano.  I would love to be able to play the piano without sheet music, to listen to a song and then play the song on the piano, I would love to be an accomplished piano player. 

How do you want to die?  I want to be in Kenya, disconnected from all technology, surrounded by all my friends, and go peacefully in my sleep in my home. 

What is your current state of mind? Some folks like to get away, take a holiday from the neighborhood.  I’m in a New York state of mind.  OK, I thought I would lighten things of for the two people who are actually still reading this.  Overall I’m optimistic and looking forward to the next phase of my life.  I see signs of hope for the collective evolution of my people every day where I previously saw none.  That inspires me to keep going.  I love who I am, who I have become despite my numerous trials, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I have survived and I see nothing but great things in my future. 

What do you consider your greatest accomplishment? My greatest accomplishment is AfroerotiK.  AfroerotiK is the foundation of a paradigmatic shift in the mental, emotional, sexual, and social consciousness of Africans born in AmeriKKKa.  AfroerotiK is greater than I ever imagined it could have been. It is the ultimate model of healthy Black relationships, intimacy and sensuality; it speaks to a sense of pride in our history, our unique culture and our identity.  divorced from the detrimental messages we have acquired because of our enslavement by people who would otherwise convince us that everything inherent to us was ugly.  In Loving Color, Sensu-Soul, and Minority Affairs are all vehicles to lift the consciousness of African Americans and to eradicate the fallacy of white supremacy. 

What is your motto?  We must excel, not just exist!

Thanks and Praises

I must give thanks and praises for the love like I’ve never known. I gaze upon his sleeping form and I’m humbled by his beauty. His gentle breathing is like music to my ears. I ask myself could there be a wine more intoxicating than his beauty. If it exists, I know that it could only be when I drink from him, tasting his essence when he erupts in my mouth. Savoring his juices, I’m intoxicated by his seed and I drink freely.

I’ve searched forever for this man. I was created for him and he for me. When those around me told me to settle, when others told me to compromise, I held steadfast to my vision and I was delivered the perfect embodiment of my dreams. His gentle touch makes me wet and I see the world anew through his eyes. His mouth envelops my clit and the softness of his lips paint pleasure like I’ve never known before. The soft round curve of my tummy is the perfect pillow for him to lay his head. My aching hard nipples are like magnets for his mouth. I can fall asleep with him sucking them like a baby.

It is most certainly his manhood, that column of beauty and lust, which enslaves me and holds me captive. His locs tickle my face as we kiss passionately, his lips kiss me with tenderness. My tight, wet, warm core surrounds him and I can’t help but release my cum from the depths of my being as he strokes me deeply, hard. He is my king and my strong, Nubian Knight. He is my lover, ally, and confidant and I’m a better woman for knowing him in the most intimate way.

Copyright 2006 AfroerotiK