OPENING STATEMENT

THE WHITE MAN conquered Africa for the specific purpose of enslaving my ancestors, because they posed the greatest threat to the genetic and cultural survival of the white race. Immediately upon the white man’s arrival, many of my ancestors were gruesomely slaughtered and many more were placed in chains and shackles. Once subjected to bondage, these proud Africans (Bantu, Ethiopians, Zulus, etc.) were branded with blistering hot irons, baptized into Christianity and given Christian names. They were then separated from family and community and forced onto the white man’s slave ships where they were subjected to horrendously inhumane conditions. To induce my ancestors to board those slave ships, white Christian merchants of human oppression and suffering named one of the slave ships “Jesus” and the newly Christianized Africans were told prior to boarding the ship that they were going to be with Jesus. Of course, Jesus was not found in the belly of this slave ship, or any other slave ship where my ancestors were forced to remain for months in squalor and disease. Upon their arrival to the Americas, they were mysteriously transformed into nigras, negras, blacks, n-word, slaves, coloreds, Negroes, Afro-Americans and African Americans. Nearly four hundred years later, the racial identification of the descendants of those original Africans have gone full circle and we are again identified as blacks.

Throughout the writing of this book, I pondered over the choices of words that I’d use in describing my race, which caused me to experience psychic confusion and emotional pain. Like many of us in America, of all races and nationalities, I found myself vacillating between using the term black, minority or African American. It then occurred to me that we are the only race in America that has three, official, racial identities and for me two out of the three are extremely negative. With this revelation I had to admit to myself that racially speaking, I have multiple personalities and each one of my personalities elicits a distinct persona. When I identify with being a minority, I see myself as being minor or less than the majority. If I recognize myself as a black man, then I must internalize all of the negative adjectives that are associated with the word black. On the other hand, seeing myself as an African American, I see a person with two geographic identities (Africa and America), which consciously and unconsciously instills in me a sense of racial and cultural pride.

The poignant fact is that we do not live in a color-blind society and the dominant culture deems it necessary to categorize everybody by race in order to maintain this American caste system. Today, it is common practice to use the adjectives black, minority and African American interchangeably. According to many in the media and entertainment industry, even the n-word is acceptable today. However, since my ancestors were kidnapped from the cradle of civilization and forced to live in an uncivilized society, my heritage screams out that I must always identify with those who have gone before me so that I may forever remember from whence I came.

Throughout this book and for the duration of my life, I will use the term, “African American” in describing my race and myself. The first edition of this book has been out of print for nearly eight years and it was my initial intention to keep it that way. I’ve had many doors of opportunity closed to me here in Augusta, Georgia because of the title, as well as the contents of that book.

On the other hand, over the years I have had numerous requests for copies of my book. Lately, it has become an almost weekly occurrence that someone approaches me and inquires about obtaining a copy. Just a few weeks ago, a middle-aged African American couple came up to me after we were leaving a program where Mr. Tony Brown of Tony Brown’s Journal, delivered the keynote address. The lady informed me that I’d given her a flyer about the book many years ago but she decided not to get the book. She then shared her regrets about not getting a copy and asked where she could find one. I recently received a letter from an incarcerated inmate requesting a copy of my book and a gentleman approached me several weeks ago and told me that he had loaned his copy of, “IT’S TIME TO STOP BLAMING THE WHITE MAN” to someone and have not gotten it back. He stated that he really wanted another copy, but was unable to find one. With his words of support and encouragement, as well as the comments of a young brother at Glen Hills High School and hundreds of other well-wishers, I decided to release this revised edition and title it, 

  STILL 

“IT’S ^TIME TO STOP BLAMING THE WHITE MAN.”

The author