I am bothered. So this weekend, I headed out to a local "Black" Seattle event of sorts called "Umoja Fest". If only you could see me rolling my eyes as I type this. I only went to support a dear friend who was performing on the hip-hop stage and a mentee who was planning it. Aside from the fact that half the people there didn't even know what "Umoja" meant when the master of ceremonies asked, I have nothing wrong with black people coming together in celebration. In fact, I usually quite enjoy it--except during election years. I can deal with the "black folks just need to come together" stuff. What I can't deal with is the "blame everything on the white man" rhetoric. Save that tired garbage for things that really count like whoever thought up "Sex and the City" or the person who created "Spandex", or the somebody who invented "Spam". That's what we should be blaming the white man for.

The highlight of the event and culmination of my entire political ideology happened when the MC asked everyone in the crowd who planned on voting in the upcoming presidential election to raise their hand. I of course, raised my hand along with the rest, however, already apprehensive about where the speech was going. In true cookie-cutter fashion, as though it were scripted, he then said, "Everyone who's voting for Bush, please put your hand down."

No he didn't?!
Oh yes he did. Go. There.

That 10-second instance was an allegory for how politics work in the black community. "Oh so it's like that huh?" I thought to myself. Anyone who's not marching in the sold-out lemming-line gets their vote canceled out? Talk about a paradox. The black community has bought-in and eternally sold their souls to one political party, yet my contrarian vote is the one that doesn't count? Surely we've gone completely mad. Even the wealthiest of wealthy know putting all your eggs in one basket is not at all strategic. Spewed ignorance and false allegiances are just not my cup of tea. My distaste of this mindset eminates from every last one of my bodily orifices. When asked, I put my hand down gladly.

Putting my words out there on the internet amazes me. Everyone's subject to their opinion, as am I. Of the more popular commentary from the peanut gallery, other black people love to call me politically confused. To them I say, "whatever". Relative definition of whatever: I'm rubber and you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.

Then there those that say I'm philosophically confused. To them I also say, "whatever". Relative definition of whatever: The very nature of philosophy is confusing. I however, am very clear on where I stand on most subjects. I shalt not be placed in an ideological box. I would not be doing my job on the earth if I did (see tagline). If my adherence to a moral conduct beyond situation ethics, and "my grandfather said so" offends you, I'm sorry.

Relative definition of "I'm sorry": I could care the heck less.

We are running a political dog and pony show here and it makes me want to vomit. People put their lives on the line so I could have the privilege to vote for whomever I darn well please and if we choose to be so naive as to further perpetuate this self-oppressive, cyclically demeaning matter-of-faulty-fact way of engaging in political discourse, count me out. I have better things to do with my time. Good day.

Relative definition of "good day": back up offa me.