“Let us BEGIN AGAIN”

For such a time as this, one thing that is true about the Black Lives Matter Movement is this: it has become a global, intercultural, and interracial BUZZ. People around the world can identify injustice when they see it; they can also identify hatred and bigotry when they see it happen, even to strangers. The world is tired about how America treats its Black citizens and its most vulnerable populations. The question before us as a nation and people is this: how are we going to move forward? how are going to cure the American soul that has been wounded since the foundation of this Republic. We’ve had an awful beginning. Our foundation is not a glorious one. We have written the most lofty Constitution in the world. Our Bill of Rights is another groundbreaking document in the modern world. These important documents must help us to foster and sustain hope, justice, rights, peace, and freedom for all Americans. We must embody their ideals in practical life so we can live in peace and harmony with each other. No other nation and no other people can do it for us. We are the masters of our own destiny, and the cure to our own wound.

This American nation began in the shed blood of the most vulnerable groups and the racially-outcast folks.
The Black problem is never a racial issue; it is more than that. The Black problem is inherently an American issue that we as a people must engage and end, even now. (What black people in this country are striving for is equality, not revenge.) We must learn how to love other individuals our systems, laws, and even our hearts do not allow us to do so. Love here is a command; can we command love? Yes, absolutely! Can you command a feeling? Love is more than a feeling; it is a sacred obligation. Love is the moral responsibility that we must practice and embody every day in this society if we want to recreate this society and move forward as a nation.

As a people, we must begin again. If we have to start off from scratch and with a blank piece of paper, it will even be worth it to use a new ink to write a new American history in the twenty-first century. As a group, we must create another country for the common good, human flourishing, our children, and the future generation. Future possibility is “the possibility” we must now embrace toward a new creation and national renewal.

“We Must Begin Again: The Life Tamir Rice Gave”

Most of you probably remember the popular news report about the 12-year-old African American boy, by the name of Tamir Rice, who tragically died about six years ago. The Cleveland (Ohio) Police officer Timothy Loehmann killed the boy on November 22, 2014 because Tamir Rice was holding a replica toy Airsoft gun in his hand that threatened Mr. Loehmann’s life. A toy gun?

Tamir Rice died because he was perceived as and even believed to be a threat to the Officer. As a parent and father of two black boys, I was utterly disturbed, shocked, and even troubled in 2014 at the hearing of the unwarranted death of this young life that was taken away from his mother and father, siblings and friends, and classmates and from all of us, meaninglessly and mercilessly. In November 22, 2014, my son Joshua was then 9 years old, only three years younger than Tamir (Josh would have turned 10 in December 23, in the same year.); my other son Terrence was actually 11 years old, only one year apart—Tamir and Terrence’s ages were too close. After I related the message to them, I looked at them intently, attempting to hide both my tears and my anger. Josh said to me, “Dad, I already read in the news about the death of Tamir Rice.”

As most people of this nation continue to engage in critical self-reflection and the process of (personal and collective) conscientization, and protest Police brutality toward blacks, last week, as a member of this American nation, I was also reflecting about the fragility of black lives in the American society, in particular, of the innocent death of Tamir Rice; I was also thinking about the deep wound this nation is undergoing. As a result, I wrote a poem entitled “Liberté noire.” I dedicate the poem to Tamir Rice. Yet this poetic narrative is beyond Tamir; paradoxically, it is my labor of love made in intense agony, joy, and pain about the price of existence and freedom in black. As James Baldwin called us to this “moral responsibility” and urgent “future” task: We must build “a new nation” and “begin again” to save the wounded soul of America— only if we want to redeem ourselves and create a society characterized by justice, love, and peace, in which everyone is armed with the appropriate tools and resources to flourish and enjoy existence, rights, and freedom.

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“Liberté noire”
for Tamir Rice

Liberté noire has no beginning and no end.
Black liberty is not from the East, West, North, or from the South.
It was birthed in the mother land in pain;
grew in resistance in exile;
and triumphed over death in plantation homes.
Pain, resistance, and death are its roots;
its branches are painted with drops of sang noir that is life;
of collectable soufle noir that is sacred and God-like.
Liberté noire is deep in you and me.
Black freedom is for all of us.

Liberté noire cannot be restrained
nor should it be tamed by any hand;
God above, bid us to sing the Blues.
The devil below, woo us to dance with the crew.
We escaped the dance with death;
we sang the blues to tell the truth.
I heard a sorrow song, from the streets of Cleveland,
rising up from the lungs of Tamir Rice;
I heard a sorrow song, from Ferguson to Minneapolis,
coming deep from Michael Brown’s soul;
bathed in the blood of Amadou Diallo;
I looked around and saw Eric Garner and Michael Brown faded, losing their breaths.
I felt in the marrow of my bones voices and tears coming down,
from the mothers of Manuel Loggins Jr. and Ronald Madison;
deep like the depth of the ocean.
How many of US US US
have gone
SINCE 1619?
In the name of the Father,
In the name of the Son,
In the name of the Holy Spirit.
giving us religion in pain;
offering our prayers in vain;
singing their songs with no end.
God made us black and shaped our soul;
we struggle in the dark to be in his light.
we fashioned a man, who is black and our Christ.
in our side, day and night.
God in black face called us to be,
directing our every step toward life,
planting in our hearts a new song of freedom,
walking as children who are free.
Liberté noire means BLACK LIBERATION without conditions.

Liberté noire cannot be hidden.
It is our coumbite to claim and finish;
step by step, together as one;
Natasha McKenna, Kendra James: show us the way;
Freddy Gray, Philando Castile, will light the torch;
We will fly;
in solidary, we are flying;
We will march;
stained by the blood of our righteous black brother and sisters, we are marching;
We will fight;
along the way, we are fighting in death valleys, when;
in all seasons, where;
in Cleveland, Maryland, Minneapolis, Kentucky, Florida, Louisiana, Georgia, Texas…
will I see your hands revolt?
Beneath the banner of liberté noire, we are marching,
Standing tall, the marginalized!
Rising up, my people!
Moving upward, the wretched of the United States!
to claim your freedom, lakou by lakou.

Liberté noire is a precious gem.
It cannot fade or die.
It blossoms, in all seasons.
for the common good;
for human flourishing; yet
the suffering that inhabits my people
dehumanizes
chokes
knows no days and nights;
does it have a name?
RACISM
RACISM
RACISM
INEQUALITY
INEQUALITY
INEQUALITY
the burden that my people bear
destroys
irritates our throat;
the thing around our neck bleeds,
the thing that hits our mouth agonizes,
the injury in our chest leaves a scar;
does it have a name?
POLICE BRUTALITY
BRUTALITY
BRUTALITY
VIOLENCE
VIOLENCE
VIOLENCE
toward you and me.
How many of ME ME ME
have been kidnapped, kidnapped, kidnapped…
auctioned, auctioned, auctioned….
sold, sold, sold….
tortured, tortured, tortured…
raped, raped, raped…
suffocated, suffocated, suffocated…
died, died, died…
SINCE 1619?
Liberté noire must face its enemy.

Liberté noire is here to stay,
to deliver in times of disaster and calamity.
giving us, a new name;
clothing us, in royal robe;
we will finish the task of our FREEDOM;
we will embark on a new journey;
whether you’re Nigerian or African American,
live in Africa or the African Diaspora,
black or white,
Asian or brown,
mixed or yellow,
boy or girl,
male or female,
woman or man,
whether you’re from the North or from the South,
from the East or from the West,
there will be NO DISCRIMINATION.
All will be invited.
We’re going to create a global village.
We must begin again.
BEGIN AGAIN
BEGIN AGAIN
BEGIN AGAIN
We must create a new nation.
NEW NATION
NEW NATION
NEW NATION
Liberté noire will take us there.
Black freedom is for all of us.

The Haitian American Council of St Lucie County: HAC Academic Scholarship, 2019-2020

HAC is pleased to announce its inaugural academic scholarship for the academic year 2019-2020. In particular, we are pleased to invite graduating seniors of St Lucie and Indian River county public schools to apply.

Please download the application. Fill it out and email it with the required documents to Dr. Celucien Joseph , drcelucienjoseph@gmail.com

*** For more information on how to apply for the scholarship, please watch the videos posted here in English and Kreyòl.

Application deadline: Saturday, June 13, 2020.

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The Haitian American Council of St Lucie County: HAC Bous Akademik pou Ane Eskolè, 2019-2020

HAC envite tout etidyen ki nan dènye ane lekòl nan lise e k ap gradye ane sa pou ka aplike pou yon bous Akademik pou ane eskolè 2019-2020. Nou bay preferans a tout elèv ki anrole nan yon lise nan St. Lucie ak Indian River Counties pou aplike.

Lè ou finn komplete aplikasyon an, voye li ak tout dokiman ke nou mande yo nan imèl sa a: Dr. Celucien Joseph, drcelucienjoseph@gmail.com

*** Pou plis enfòmasyon sou aplikasyon an, gade video ke nou afiche sou sit la.

Dat pou voye aplikasyon and ak tout dokiman yo: Samdi 13 jwen, 2020.

“President Trump and his Use of the Bible as tool of Terror, Legitimacy, and for Military Pacification”

What President Donald Trump has done today, standing in front of St. John’s Church and holding the Bible in his right hand and pronouncing words of threat to street protesters through the deployment of military force, is a momentous symbolic gesture in the history of the function of the Bible in American politics and civil religion, as well as the ambivalent rapport between the Bible and the American state.

Overall, in American history, the Bible was used in many “negative ways” such as first to support the invasion of the European pilgrims and puritans in the land of Native Americans. The European (Christian) colonizers in the country that will be known today as the United States of America deployed the Bible as a mechanism to proselytize native Americans and to demonize their culture and traditions. They also utilized the Bible as a tool of pedagogy and instruction to inform Native Americans that their own land was not truly theirs; by contrast, the God of the Bible, the European Mighty Deity has given the invaders, slavers, and colonizers a new land, a new country, what their Christian colonizers famously called “the City upon the hill.” The Europeans also used the Bible not only to keep the land for themselves but also to forcefully remove, dislocate, and annihilate Native Americans from their own country.

In other epochs in American history, the Bible has been the greatest weapon used and misused to kidnap Africans from continental Africa. It was instrumental in instituting the system of European slavery and colonization in the Americas and in the developing world (i.e. the Global South). The Holy Book as the Reference Text was used to enslave the Africans or keep them in chain and oppression on American soil. Equally, it was used and misinterpreted to justify the system of slavery and through which, slave masters and the American government maintained the institution of slavery in America. Slavery flourished for 400 years in the American society through the government and masters’ theological (mis-) interpretation of the Bible. Correspondingly, the Bible was used on European slave ships, on American slave plantations, in American plantation homes, in American slave auctions, and in American schools created for African slaves. The use and misuse of the Bible by the American government, racists, white nationalists, white supremacists, and segregationists strengthened the system of segregation and the Jim Crow laws for 87 years in the American society; complementarily, the Bible was effectively deployed by the Federal government to legally ban interracial love and marriage between blacks and whites.

Within these historical trajectories and cultural-political experiences, President Trump’s use of the Bible today is historically connected to the misuse of the Bible as a tool to terrorize people, to legitimate his action, and to call upon American military force to pacify street protesters.

1. Trump’s gesture reinforces a long European-American tradition that the Bible can be referenced as a means to pacify protesters and freedom fighters in the midst of racial violence, systemic racism, Police brutality, oppression, and in the production of cultural evil and the triumph of black death in the American society. Trump’s god is a deity who does not care about black tears and racial trauma.
2. Trump’s gesture reminds us about the (mis-) use of the Bible in the time of (American and European) slavery and (Western) colonization to indoctrinate black and brown people to embrace the master’s interpretation of the Christian faith and white supremacist theology of Christianity. Trump’s biblical hermeneutics is out of balance.
3. Trump’s symbolic action strengthens the ambivalent relationship between American civil religion and the American state, sustained by right-wing American Christians. In other words, he is stating that his presidency is approved by the God of the Bible.
4. Trump’s holding of the Bible in his right hand and pronouncing the threat that he will be using the country’s military forces to stop American street protesters sent an important signal to the American people: that his action to threaten, intimidate, terrorize, and even kill American protesters is sanctioned or approved by the Holy Bible.

In conclusion, in contemporary American society, the Bible still remains the most powerful tool, reference, and force used and misinterpreted by white supremacists and racists, and right-wing Christians and politicians to deny some people of their rights and humanity, to delegitimize them in the life of this nation and its citizenship, to terrorize them, and to exclude them from the privileges and opportunities this nation has to offer. The Bible should never be used to declare war on people nor should it be used as a political strategy to win future votes.

For more information about President Truko, click on the links below:

https://nypost.com/2020/06/01/president-trump-mobilizing-us-military-to-end-george-floyd-riots/

https://www.nbcnews.com/video/trump-stands-in-front-of-st-john-s-church-holding-bible-after-threatening-military-action-against-protesters-84206661837

I wrote a new poem about the intersection of black love and freedom, and how black couples should nurture black love in the midst of racial trauma and violence in America. The strength to love while black is grounded on the liberating message of Blues and Jazz. I dedicated the poem to a “girl whose color is black and life.” The poem is called “Jazz on the Moon.”

“Jazz on the Moon”

When I look in the mirror, who do I see?
I see ME, a man dressed in a black body,
I see YOU, a black woman dressed in your color that is life,
searching for a new melody;
freedom through self-improvisation,
bringing emotional satisfaction.
Nothing will stop us from climbing to the top:
old lyrics will not go,
racism and sexism will find their way.
My body has grown strong,
your form is beauty to me,
because of a new Jazz song.
I will reach the mountain top,
to a place beyond,
to play the new Jazz song in the weary moon,
chasing the rainbow, with the Blues,
climbing the magic ladder,
letting the new story unfold.
You will be with me on the highest hill,
escaping racial violence and trauma,
liberating from the nation’s oppression.
I am a prisoner of your love;
You, an ambassador of my voice.
No one can tell us otherwise.

I awoke last night to break anew
with endless freedom and energy,
a new song on my lips break-through.
I will not delete the lyrics,
I can’t stop the dance;
for the journey has been a year-long.
It is time for me to grandly arise.
in their eyes, against their muse.
Will you move your body on the dance floor,
and join me to dance to the new beat?
Let us do our swing.
Our children will not be oppressed.
The black man will not be put to death.
The black woman will not be executed.
We will enjoy liberation with the new song.
Jazz will lead to a new birth.

Old memories of this land will cross the path,
will suffer and die.
our freedom will not be denied;
we will escape the rain,
riding on a new train.
You and I will craft a new map for the world,
on behalf of our people,
for boys and girls,
men and women,
white and black,
brown and yellow too,
and for everyone in the race,
exploring the new map for a new world.
We will be divine, playing Jazz on the moon.

You and I will not die without swinging.
You are no ordinary dancer.
We can climb the highest mountain,
Your body improvises through the Blues,
initiating a swing that is new,
the music moving deep in our soul,
in a dozen ways, we will see the color of our destiny.
in our own terms, we will rest in peace,
forgetting all of our troubles in the land,
the new Blues song sets us free.
They say: “You are two swingers who dance Jazz in the moon to create a love supreme.”

“We ain’t Rioting” by Katia Laurent-Joseph

We ain’t victimized no more.
We ain’t looting the streets,
nor terrorizing America.
We are reclaiming our Godlike image.
We are chanting our REVOLUTION.

We have become the prosecutor of an ill nation;
hunting down a system that has looted us from 1619 till today.
In fact, in those streets,
we are consciously freeing ourselves;
declaring our humanity;
proclaiming our dignity;
protecting lives in black and brown of this nation.
We ain’t rioting.

We ain’t rioting; we ain’t looting the streets.
freeing ourselves from the omnipresence of whiteness,
abject poverty, systemic racism, inequality…
liberating ourselves from historical trauma and injustice
this is our REVOLUTION
VIVRE our REVOLUTION!

The street prophets have spoken
weeping for the liberation of an oppressed people;
they have anointed our spirit to rebel.
this ain’t no pacifying preaching;
this ain’t no silent theology;
we ain’t rioting.
we are following
the Christ
Christ of the oppressed.
“We ain’t rioting,” the street prophets say.

The God of the oppressed commands: “Follow my Son.”
You must be a Christlike people:
He protested, rebelled, damaged property;
destroying commerce in the Holy Temple;
preaching a theology for the oppressed.
We ain’t rioting.

The Christ of the oppressed shouting out, “You ain’t rioting”
breathe my people, breathe, breathe!
run my brothers, run my sisters, run!
jog my people, jog, jog!
you are marginalized and cast aside;
I will bring peace with a sword and restore my image in you
to my likeness,
your blackness is mine,
your suffering I share.
This is our theology, a rioting theology.

“We Bid Goodbye to Your Religion”

We bid goodbye to your religion.
You who have taught our people the way of faith, but do not do the works of the faith.
Your agents defend the life in the womb, but do not save the life
outside the womb.
Your teachers have nurtured our people in the way of peace, but do not support the talk for peace in the Middle East.
Your preachers proclaim the Prince of peace, but do not believe in his
Creed of Peace.
You who despise the bastard children of the Empire, but do not
renounce the Western Empire.
We say farewell to your congregation.

You sing the love of God but support the racists who do not love.
The Christ cared for the poor and carried those waited at the
backdoor, but you rejected those living in the shadow of the front door.
your actions shut the door to our pain;
you complain because of our counterclaim.
your saints win the lost soul, but do not have a soul;
you say all are created in the image of the Father but treat our people
as if they are not from the same Father.
We shall not assemble with you again.

We shall bid goodbye to your christ because your message is not for us.
Your hospitality is not for those in the ghetto;
you follow those who reign in Washington D.C.;
you associate only with those in your fraternity;
We will not participate.

We shall bid goodbye to your god.
your actions cause
our desolation;
your satisfaction, our suffocation;
your silence, our alienation;
your demonstrations do not lead to
our restoration,
or our liberation;
We shall abandon your faith.
We will not remember your deeds.
We shall forget all your creeds.
We will not sing your sad melodies nor play your despairing hymns of tomorrow.
Your theology only brings us more sorrow;
Your christ is imprisoned in a system;
Your god is a friend of the system;
We must now bid goodbye to your religion.

“Rage in the City” by Katia Laurent-Joseph

You want me to voice my rage in silence
Like a good Christian
and crucify me to the cross
like the son of man
Oh, you hypocrite Pharisees
even the son was a thug
Woe to you!
I took my rage to the streets
flipped the tables in temples
stopped the highways
burned the city
Boom, boom, boom!
my rage,
my frustration
my suffocation
my injustice.

Can be heard in the big BOOM
I will shake the city until my voice is heard
I will shake the city until I am truly free
I am a man,
woman,
mother,
brother,
sister,
cousin.

You cannot call me thug, unruly
Savage?
I am not
NO! NO! NO!
you cannot enslave and imprison my mind
I am free,
My freedom came with a price
If you don’t believe me,
ask Toussaint, Dessalines, King, X, and Evers
All bled in the streets
to set me free
Listen neo planters!
21st century massa!
I will not be suffocated
My voice will be heard
in the big BOOM
throughout the city
throughout the country
Your justice system creates prisons like plantations
sucking life out of me
Taking away my dream
colonizing my thoughts.

A prisoner?
NO!
A nigger?
YOUR NEGRO!
I am not!
Non plus!
I declare it
An agitator?
I am
for the cause of my people
their freedom
The city will hear my voice,
hear my cry
and my suffering too.
BOOM is
my rage
my cry
in the city
for my humanity
for my people.

“Black Sorrow”
by Katia Laurent-Joseph

When my mother birthed me, she did not tell me:

my skin color will be the main cause of my death,

my blackness is the main reason for my lynching, shooting, and killing,

my black and brown brothers and sisters were born into death row,

my existence is a threat to someone else’s privilege,

George Floyd will be lynched by the blue mob mafia,

the criminal system has contempt for black bodies,

my black and brown brothers and sisters’ blood are still being used as fertilizer for modern day prison plantation just as the blood and the sweat of our slave ancestors;

She did not tell me my blood; my black and brown sisters and brothers’ blood is not important for an oppressive system that is kneeling on our necks until it sucks the life out of us;

She did not tell me, in the 21st century, my black and brown sisters and brothers will still utter the words “I can’t breathe” just as our ancestor couldn’t breathe in the Transatlantic Passage.

She did not tell me that the modern-day lynch mob wants to Make America Great Again.
Make America Great Again: a black person was lynched.

“Battle Ground in the ‘Gateway to the South’”
for Breonna Taylor

Who are these strangers in our Land?
monsters in gray invading the South side of the “Derby City”;
the Blue force from the Highview;
women in blue form from the Creek;
boys in black, leaving their body cams in the East side;
blue, gray, and black they wear in the River Side;
rough fabric of the Devil on the Cross, maturing their view, purview, and counterview.
Black boots and shiny helmets marching to the sound of the melody of “The Ville”;
bearing banners painted with dying stars and fading red and white
stripes, they walked in tight ranks;
bearing flags decorating with abandoned crosses and human skulls, they waged war in the riverbanks;
spilling petals of blood in the South side in one, two, three, four,
five, six, seven, eight shots in Taylor’s chest;
screaming, gossiping, and cheering after the fact;
How long, the black mother screams, will I mourn the wrongful death of
my Breonna?

Who are these strangers in our Land?
beasts running in the “City of Beautiful Churches”;
spies of the nation who have come in our homes to take our fruit;
people who produce conditions of distress and tiredness in “The Fall City”;
Where do these boys in blue come from?
Who is their leader?
we are trampled by thousands of boots;
living in terror of their bloodroots;
inhaling in fear because of their bitterroots;
“they’re killing us…our songbirds are gone,” the youth rage.

The children on the other side of the East shout:
“we cause no harm to human life.”
“like a lion in a cage, waiting for reports and justice.”
“Listen, do not call the FORCE in BLUE or dial 911 for RESCUE.”
The elderly in the shadow of the East ask:
“Who will flog those who have shed our blood in the South side of The Ville?
The mothers outside of the Edgewood cry:
“Is there no longer a steward in the Shively hood who can do it?” “We will remember Eight for One dead body.”

In harmony, they sing a new song of protest, lament, and a lyric of hope:
“When you give weapons to the Kĩmendeeris, they smash and grind lives;
when you arm idiots, they will become madmen, coward-men, and men of no shame;
they will hate life, life in black, black existentia in the city;
power in the service of urges, instincts, and patriotic zeal;
power is loyalty to supremacy in white and privilege in Aryan wheel; at the sight of the men in uniform, we lament the death of our
freedom, our humanity in black,
and the desecration of blackness;
we eat in silence, mourn in pain, breathe in suffering, experiencing a
common anguish of City’s rejection;
we’re learning how to manage our common plot;
we try to banish the pain by praying, doing penance;
many young and old, girls and boys in black have fallen in the struggle;
at the very least, we should ask their leaders what these monsters in
gray are doing on our land.

We will lift ourselves from within.
We will rise above the battle ground in the Derby City;
We will resist the arrest in the Bluegrass State;
We will find the courage to continue the struggle and win the battle;
We are ready to defend ourselves like Ali against this new rival;
Our rebellion on the ground will nourish courage to fight the devils
in the ‘Gateway to the South.’”

*** I wrote this poem for Breonna Taylor who was fatally shot eight times on March 13, 2020 by Louisville Metro Police Department officers Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison and Myles Cosgrove at her home in Louisville, Kentucky. It is called “Battle Ground in the ‘Gateway to the South.”