#forwhitesonly

To excavate this black soul is too unearth a white artifact.

Was Fanon right when he postulated that we are slaving away to become white while the white man slaves away to become more human? (The black slave driven by shame; the white man by guilt.) Alas, can the black slave seek liberation from himself and from his desire to be white?

Tell me, what is freedom to the black slave who, true to the laws of nature and ALL the white gods, is always willing to sell himself (body and soul) in white markets?

The black slave who, hates being called a slave but, nevertheless, feels obliged to live as one.

The black slave who lives outside of himself – he is both foreigner and prisoner to his own body – his entire existence defined by whiteness.

Yes, the white man has always known that the black slaves DREAM was to replace him. He knew that, to the black slave, he was the embodiment of freedom. He knew that (in the black slaves gaze) he was god. So, as god he gave the black slave his freedom – a lie which he packaged and sold in his own image – in return for his pledge of allegiance. Unbeknownst to the black slave, his freedom never belonged to the white man and thus was never the white man’s to give. But the slave was desperate, so he abdicated his own humanity, to put on his new fetters believing he had actually secured freedom.

But One-Man rejected the white man’s nefarious gift (free-dumb). One-Man chose instead to free his “FUCKING” self! One-Man realized that his liberation did not require ANY MAN’S (white nor black) permission. So, One-Man is a fugitive an outcast even unto his own people. (Of course, his freedom is slavery to those who’ve been seduced into believing slavery is freedom.)

run nigger! there is no help for you here….

because you are not one of us… because you’re an outsider. you do not talk, walk or act like one of us. you have no roots here…

because you threaten to break our beautiful chains. what gives you the right to call us slaves? what gives you the right to tell us how to live our lives?

because you reek of something foreign. you are simply too strange for us. you’re a weirdo. a circus freak. yes, you belong to those pallid people. they should have you. they love to collect strange things after all…

RUN NIGGER!

I don’t know for certain, but I would reckon (to the black slave) freedom smells really wild like coon. Perhaps rebarbatively pungent (stressed and terrified) like the sweat of a fugitive. Then again maybe it actually possesses a sugary sweet aroma, decadent and forbidden like apple trees on the opulent (lily white) plantations of Eden. Maybe it smells divine and pure like the sweet breath of white baby Jesus; or taste like holy water dripping from the wet, god kissed, thighs of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Of course this would be off putting for those who still bear the stench of shame and damnation – slave ships, rape, fear, blood drenched leather and oxidized iron. In which case, perhaps freedom smells like old death; like the decayed carcass of an ancient betrayal. Perhaps it’s the scent of something both, strangely, foreign and familiar; like the intoxicatingly seductive allure of freshly minted currency – a recipe of cotton, gunpowder, rum, copper and iron aged in 400 year old blood barrels….

So, to hell I have been sent (One-Man) – just a loud talking nigger – damned and left outside of the divine pearly gates that are guarded by white lions. Outside of gods grace…. My crime… My sin … daring to DREAM of FREEDOM.

THE WORK CONTINUES…. VENICE INTERNATIONAL PERFORMANCE ART WEEK (DECEMBER 2016)

UPDATE (Points of Departure)…

So, a couple of months ago I was invited to Venice Italy to take part in their upcoming International Performance Art Week. And although I would be lying to say I was not honored and flattered to have been invited – especially after the founders of the event personally reached out to express a strong interest – but to be quite honest, I was also extremely skeptical of the invitation. For me the integrity of the work ALWAYS comes first. And while, yes, it’s a great opportunity to, at the very least, travel abroad. Such things don’t really factor into my decision making process or take precedence over the work itself – however, that’s just me. (I have turned down many seemingly great opportunities due to questions of integrity.) What I really had to ask myself was, what purpose could my work actually serve in Italy.

I mean, I’ve always been clear as to my message and again I’m not one of those individuals who is eager to take any and every opportunity that comes along simply for the sake of performing and being seen. (I’m not in this for fame, exposure or artistic validation.) I do the work when the spirit moves and I have something REAL to say. As I’ve constantly said, for me, this is so much larger than art. This is about liberation. It is my life’s mission. So again, I had to ask myself, why would I take the work to Italy? Not to mention, I know very little of the culture or the issues and struggles they face as a society. So, I was clear that if I were to do work in Italy, it would have to be based upon my perspective and experience as a black man living in America. This, however, posed another problem for me. That being the fact I take serious issue with doing work where I know the majority of the audience will be comprised of white folk. This is because my messages are created out of a black experience and for me it has always been imperative that my work remains (first and foremost) accessible to and rooted in the black community. (Not to mention, I am not keen on the idea of being carted off somewhere to entertain white people.)

So needless to say, it took me a long time to decide if I was going to accept this invitation. However, recently there has been a series of events that have heavily weighed on me regarding my work and how it is received by my own (black) people. On many occasions it has been expressed (directly and indirectly) that perhaps my work is not embraced by my community at all. That, in fact, many take umbrage with it. I’ve learned from quite a few that the work evokes feelings of anger and animosity towards me due to the harsh tones of my messages, or the language I use – “folks don’t want to be called slaves!” I’ve been told that it’s because my work is not dignified or refined enough; or that I come off too angry. Told that folk don’t know what to do with the work, because it’s simply too different or strange – “I don’t get it.” “Why is he doing this shit anyway?!” I’ve been told that folks take my messages personal: “It feels like you’re speaking directly to and about me.” Told that I piss folk off because I publicly challenge or criticize black people and our beloved black leaders (e.g. President Obama). Or because I just simply do not fit comfortably within the conservative and circumscribing boxes and standards assigned to black dignity and excellence.

Now, while I have suspected and heard many of these criticisms for quite some time. I think the true moment of profound realization came about as the result of a recent phone conversation. You see, I had reached out to a peer, that I had a tremendous amount of respect for, regarding a lingering and annoying arrest warrant, that’s been hanging over my head for quite a while.

(Note: I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN EXTREMELY AWARE THAT THERE ARE ACTIVIST OUT HERE FACING CHARGES THAT ARE FAR MORE SERIOUS THAN MINE.)

I had NEVER asked ANYONE for money or anything regarding this issue. I told myself instead that I’d simply deal with it when I could afford to; or if and when I get caught – whichever comes first. It was not until another friend suggested that I reach out to this particular individual to get some advice as to options for dealing with this situation that I, reluctantly, decided to hit them up. I understood that this individual was quite important and busy doing big things on the daily. To be quite honest I never even thought they were that familiar with my work because they had never really expressed to me that they had seen anything that I had done. So, needless to say, I was quite shocked when my friend suggested that I reach out to this individual based on the fact that this person had expressed to my friend, what they perceived to be, a true spirit of pride, respect and support for the work that I do. Which is why that which transpired in the subsequent phone conversation was quite perplexing to me, to say the least. What I heard over the phone did not, AT ALL, sound like I was speaking to someone who truly supported and respected the work – quite the opposite in fact. What I heard on the other end of the phone that day sounded a whole helluva lot like an individual with a personal axe to grind.

First off, they let me know that they had only 12 minutes (EXACTLY) to talk and then they went on to give me a thinly veiled but unquestionably scathing 30 minute tongue lashing. In this, I was subtly informed as to the frivolous and inferior nature of my work particularly in relation to theirs:

“I wish I had time to simply be an artist but I am too busy being an organizer and, as perhaps you may know, the 2 are very different as they require different muscles.” Which to me was to imply – the very issue I have with so many people’s beliefs in the function of art as mere aesthetic pursuit not to be considered as a serious, valid and essential component of activism and social change – that “ART” is merely a labor of luxury and leisure. Thus, this individual was essentially reducing my work to mere aesthetic value, not worthy of being discussed in the same context of “REAL“ activism undertaken by serious activist and organizers out in the field putting in “REAL” work.

Next, after attempting to provide a brief explanation as to the nature of my call, I was immediately interjected and emphatically told: “Let me just stop you right there and be honest with you … there is no help for you.” Then this individual proceeded to tell me that nobody in the black community would be willing to support me, first and foremost, because, “[I’m] a floater and have no REAL roots in the black community.” They went on to explain that not only would the black community not be willing to offer me any support but, it would be unfair for me to seek assistance from the black community because – again, I have no roots – black resources are limited and spread thin supporting those serious (“HIGH PROFILE”) activist, organizers and organizations that are under attack, facing much more serious charges and thus desperately in need of community support.

(Mind you, I have NEVER solicited or even intended to solicit financial support from the black community –outside of my own immediate family members – for ANYTHING let alone my legal woes. Whatever support has been provided to me has been completely offered on a voluntary basis.)

Then, I was told that perhaps I should let the warrant ride but to consider changing the type of work I do so as to not draw negative attention to myself.

They also felt it necessary to let me know that they would not, AT ALL, be willing or interested in, “RAISING [MY] PROFILE.” Again, I was completely perplexed as to what this even meant and where it was all coming from because, I had NEVER asked or even implied that I was seeking ANY of these things.

But perhaps most disturbing and telling of all was their suggestion that I should perhaps consider reaching out to the media – again, something that I don’t do and I even expressed that I would not AT ALL be interested in doing – after all (according to them) the white media establishment would, “absolutely love you.” Particularly as they’re always looking for new ways to cover black issues (because that’s what’s trendy now) and “here you are a black man who paints his body and runs around naked in the streets doing weird shit. Yes, they would absolutely eat that up.” In addition to that it was also suggested that I reach out to white people. “After-all, that’s who your REAL audience is and, let’s face it, that’s who your work actually resonates with. I think those are your TRUE supporters. Not to mention they’re always desperately looking to get involved and take on a needy black cause.” The sentiment of which, essentially implied that what I do is merely some weird and strange type of contemporary coon-ism. Thus my work has no place in the black community but is ultimately just some strange white folk shit.

Despite every attempt to disguise their umbrage – “I’m just being honest and trying to help you.” Their aggressive, dismissive and cutting tone belied and betrayed their underlying and deep seated contempt.

Finally (interesting and ironically enough) the 30 minute lecture – mind you, that was supposed to be a 12 minute conversation – would abruptly be brought to an end with this individual (again shutting me down midsentence) informing me that they could no longer waste any more time with me due to the fact that they had a very important meeting awaiting with a major white entertainment corporation.

Needless to say this conversation left me deeply nonplussed and disheartened. At first, I did not understand what I had done to spawn such feelings of resentment. But then I thought about all the previous conversations I have had over the years about the work/my message and the affect it has on people (particularly black people). That’s when I had a sort of reawakening of sorts. I remembered the mission and my deep commitment to FREEDOM! I thought back on the Camus quote – that I have based my ENTIRE life’s purpose on – The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your ENTIRE existence is an act of rebellion.

Today, when I look around and see what our so-called black liberation movements and leadership has become. I don’t see freedom, I see blocks. I see us standing on the very auction blocks from which our ancestors were sold. I see the blocks that separated us and keep us divided to this very day. I see us jockeying for positions, chasing Ivory Towers and White Houses. I see us STILL betraying ourselves and selling our dead and our struggle to the highest bidder for the sake of money, power and fame….

I see us selling our pain (our struggle) for political gain and expedience. I see us selling our pain (our struggle) for financial reward. I see us selling our pain (our struggle) for artistic success and validation. I see us selling our pain (our struggle) for white corporate sponsorship (e.g. Patagonia and McDonald’s.) I see us selling our pain (our struggle) for news coverage. I see us selling our pain (our struggle) for celebrity. I even see us fighting on the streets, like two-bit territorial gang factions, over bullshit leadership rights to our struggle. Yes, I bear witness to ALL manner of folks putting on shackles and clamoring to stand on the blocks, in the name of black liberation. I have also come to accept and embrace the fact that I am an alien and outsider even unto my own people. If only, for the simple fact, that everyone seems to be desperately struggling and fighting to get in while I am desperately trying to get out.

And yes, I fully recognize that my roots do not belong to the black community no more than they do the white community (despite what many of you may think). My roots travel much deeper. My roots stem from a place that most of you (black and white) have abandoned. It is this place where my soul lives and my body yearns and strives to get back to. It is from this place where my voice cries out. No, I am not rooted in a black community or ANY single community (for that fact). My mission transcends such picayune limits and boundaries. I am rooted in FREEDOM! I am both planter and cultivator of these seeds. To this end, alone, am I a consummate farmer and builder. No – as I have asseverated many times before – I am not seeking to lead ANYONE ANYWHERE! As I am also not seeking ANYBODIES PERMISSION, VALIDATION or ACCEPTANCE in the pursuit of my cause. My mission is clear to me (FREEDOM, is my life’s mission and praxis). Hence, I am just an alarm. Here to interrogate, challenge and GET FREE.

All that said, I’ve officially decided to present my next action in Venice Italy this December, as part of the Venice International Performance Art Week. (This work will mark yet another incarnation in the ongoing mission that is One-Man: The Liberation Project.) And I hereby announce that this next work will be… FOR WHITES ONLY