Brooklyn Bedouin

Graduation Day

How do we define freedom. The western way of life that I am immersed in, was raised in, is actually the negation of freedom because it subjugates us to various ‘false gods’ that take the place of our knowing ourselves and understanding the Unity of creation.

In terms of self-definition and using that as a first step in determining with whom to go deeper and have more intentional connection – or family – and using those deeper relationships, I am curious to determine what is the criteria? Who do we go deeper with?

We are whom we gaze upon. We become the people we spend most of our time with. Some husbands and wives begin to look like one another. Our family is our family because their presence reminds you that you are grounded to some peg of earth somewhere and therefore you have a stake in this planet, this universe, and this overall experience. Your familial responsibility defines who you are even if you do not like them or interact with them, because we represent thousands of years of history – some call it evolution, and we are then the best or at the very least, the latest version of our line. Our family is sometimes all we have.

Here’s some of mine:

 

Adilah, Tauhirah, Ali – on Adilah’s graduation day from Stony Brook!

 

My father looking out at the Masjid that he is essentially helping to build. It is perhaps the most ambitious Masjid establishing project that he has ever been a part of (and my dad has a way of getting involved in the building of houses of worship for Muslims). As his son, I am very proud.

Brooklyn Angle Sports With DJ Chaz-O and ibrahim

Download Brooklyn Angle Sports

 Download the original podcast here! this is the first one kids, don't sleep!

Traffic on Church Ave

Look who is parked in the middle of the road!

Ali looks on at Adilah's graduation

First in a series, Adilah graduates and the family is in the mix!

Just Another Black Male Unemployed In New York City

The other day I became aware of a statistic: 50% of Black Males in NYC are unemployed. Well that number stuck with me because technically, I am one of that 50%.

The last 9 months or so I have applied for jobs, worked temporary gigs ranging from advocacy work, freelance writing, production work, and driving friends around – all to make money to stay afloat. I suppose I am what we would call UnderEmployed – I make barely enough to pay my bills and keep food on the table and I am constantly looking for new opportunities and sifting through old ones to stay on top of places I have pitched myself to.

Today I discussed with a friend the challenge that this has done to my psyche. We talked about how in our capitalist society we tend to define ourselves based on what we produce. I have been no different. I see friends who have employment and are able to pursue a cause or an agenda relentlessly because they have the backing of a larger institution. That is not the case when you are unattached. People do not pay attention to you when you are unattached.

For those of us in the Underemployed category our conversations and interactions are a constant negotiation of strategic interests and timing. When people ask: “what do you WANT to do?” a sharp shiver shoots up my spine that prevents me from responding the way I WANT to respond. When you have been looking for work as long as I have the conversation about what you WANT to do changes dramatically. I WANT to write novels and be creative. Is that a reality at the current moment?  – No.

My MPA degree has placed me in direct competition with a legion of discharged bankers and their business world refugees. Legions of these men and women are now looking to the relatively safe service and government sectors as bunkers in these hard times. They apply for management positions and look better equipped to take on higher levels of responsibility than others. While this may or may not be true, the overall obsession with people with business experience is bankrupting our civic and public sectors. Those business rejects have only come to mission driven work out of a need to bridge the gap not to do the work.

As I enter into a very thin freelancing period I continue to be humbled. Not only is making ends meat increasingly difficult, but staying focused difficult as well. I know few people that have, in these economic times, maintained a certain lifestyle while having virtually no safety net. I am not eligible for unemployment benefits and have no person to bail me out. I have gained personal momentum in this time and confidence but that wanes in the daily onslaught of reality – choices must be made.

Two things stand out to stay mindful of:

1. I put myself in this situation – whether consciously or not.

2. I need to remember that it is not what we produce that defines our existence as human beings; it is the quality and nature of our human relationships. I am a brother, a son, a friend, etc.

Congressman Weiner Fields Q's on Waxman Climate Bill

I thanked the congressman for looking out for democracy in the term limits fight and then asked him what protections were to be in place that would make sure that financial gains from a cap and trade market based carbon reduction plan would not dominated by industry groups and front groups?

He said he really likes spending that money on mass transit- good answer!

Monday Morning Wakeup Call

I just heard that the principle of the Queens school that contracted the dreaded pig fever died.

visual representation of "our way of life" right now. the freedoms that we hold so dear are threatened from the same things that we have been protected by. Industrial food? we need local good food. and animals that are treated with honor. We need pedestrian living and safer transportation systems not addicted to fossil fuels.

 

Guess who's name is carved into the Brooklyn Museum?

In the 1980’s I waited on the corner of Washington and Eastern Parkway, diagonal the Museum, for the school bus that would take me to P.S. 307. Out of school I was allowed to go– with no adult supervision – only three places: the Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn Public library, and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I particularly liked to fall asleep in the Cherry Esplanade and hideout in the Japanese Garden, I loved books, but I think my favorite was wandering the museum for hours in my own imagination.

I lived three blocks down from the museum, before they changed the original City Beautiful front for a modern one with exploding fountains and glass and steel. I still miss the cobbled stones that provided an entrance in days gone by. Anyways, the Museum…

I was walking by their late one night when I looked up, like I had done many times before, and saw the statues with names of famous men underneath. For many days in my childhood I would stare at those names and think about whom they were and what it took to get your name carved in stone thousands of years and miles from when and where you lived.

Well, the other day, I noticed another name that [perfectly] did not have a statue above it and [curiously] did not belong to a European derived great thinker. He was on the left side of the part of the museum that faces Eastern Parkway, on the same side as Laoste and Confucious. A man that billions understand is the Seal of the Prophets...

See for yourself:

 

CAIR's Annual Banquet and Fundraiser

MC Fatima Ashraf and honoree Imam Al-Hajj Talib Abdur-Rashid against the CAIR digital backdrop in the heart of the NYU Law School.

Waterboarding

I woke up strapped to a flat board in a freezing room. My body was naked and on fire. They said nothing as they removed the hood. The light was unbearable. They forced my eyelids open and one fisted me an uppercut on the chin and I bit my lip so that it began bleeding. My body was on fire. It was hard to breath. They pulled the board and me over to a vat of water. I could hear it sloshing around. They dunked me into the water still strapped onto the board until I could barely breathe. The water was salty. Pulling me out they said nothing before dunking me in again. I came up, they still said nothing. I cannot recall how many times they repeated this before taking me to a cell...

Oh liberty, where art thou!

  photo by dustin ross who was going through the archives not long ago and came across a shot at one of the first Rudemovements parties we did. Circa 2003. Hard to believe that’s a throwback…check out his latest adventure here