Thinking Inside The Black

I was born Black, and now I live Black.
I will die Black, because I am Black,
Black is what I have to be.
I can never not be Black or change that fact,
and at times I can't even be me.
I have to be Black.

When I had my first Black History class, I gave the three out five students that showed up some quick facts. I asked them about there opinion about my culture, and then I asked them a very difficult question. I wanted them to identify my Nationality, Race, and Ethnicity. The first two were easy and the last was very difficult, partially because it is a tricky question. I explained to my students that if they were born in the US, their Nationality would be American, there race would be Asian, and their ethnicity would be Chinese, ignoring the complication that China itself contains about 56 ethnic groups. My ethnicity doesn't pan out in such a way. In some countries ethnicity, race, and nationality are all lumped together. In others, ones identity can be chopped up in so many different flavors. Let us just call my ethnicity African-American.

Sometimes, I get the strangest questions such as: "do Blacks cut their hair by burning it." Well, perhaps this is more so a misunderstanding derived from old perms that Blacks use to get. You know the one that Malcolm X gets in the beginning of the Spike Lee Joint. Anyways, I corrected them. Then there are the normal fears that students wonder about with regards to Blacks and crime, apparently if you go to New York a Black person will either rob you or sell you drugs. I have never been to New York, maybe it is true, and maybe I am in the wrong business. I usually follow those comments with, "well, it depends where you go.

Now, I have gone through a couple of stages here in HK, and now I am in a new stage that I like to call, "Thinking Inside the Black." This phase is characterized by heighten awareness of my cultural background and cultural appearance. It is not paranoia or frustration, it is just a strong awareness.

Another Black History class focused on my culture after reconstruction, and how the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments were re-interpreted and raped by state laws and supreme court rulings. I only have one student now, so it was an intimate conversation. Now that I am a phony Black History professor, I have had to read up on the thoughts of Booker T Washington, WEB Du Bois (which is actually pronounced in the non-french way, "boys"), and Marcus Garvey. All very interesting people, what is even more interesting is what they said about each other.

My hair went uncut for a good while. I just felt like growing it out and being more ethnic as we say in some circles, but I have cut it low once again. Sorry Lisa, no dread locks yet.



The ETAs where invited to a Fulbright related trip to Macau SAR (Special Administration Region). Macau is a region of China that was colonized by the Portuguese. Now it has become the Las Vegas of the East, dominated by the gambling industry. One of the strangest things is that every street sign is written in Chinese, English, and Portuguese. But, no one really speaks Portuguese in Macau. When the Portuguese where in charge, they did not mix with the locals too much, and they only colonized the region politically and not culturally, thus the native Chinese were not forced to learn the Euro language. Yet, Portuguese is still considered an official language, and English is widely spoken. I saw several sites, and I will just hit a few for you.

First, below are two pictures from A-Ma Temple the oldest building in Macau, in fact it predates Macau's founding. It was said that it was the only building in the area when the Portuguese came in the mid 16th century. During our history session, there was a bit of a discussion between our Portuguese presenter and one of the local presenters. The Portuguese professor made the comment that Macau was never a colony, because there was never an imposing of culture, which is true. Additionally, the Chinese government allowed the Portuguese to be there, and could have took steps to push them out at any time. However, others retorted that since the Portuguese politically controlled the area, and higher positions were reserved for the Portuguese alone that it can be said that it was at least a political colony. It was all very interesting listening to the polite exchange. Having been to Mozambique, an actual Portuguese colony, my first assumption is always wherever the Europeans went on their old conquest they rape and pillage the land, leaving nothing behind. I know, that is a sweeping indictment, aw well.








The next couple of pictures are from St. Dominic's Church founded in 1587 in Macau. It was actually wooden at first, but a fire damaged most of it so it was built with stone.




Next, we have a picture of the St. Paul Cathedral ruins. The church was built in 1602-1640, and there was St. Paul college adjacent to it as well. The remaining facade is perhaps the symbol of Macau, as like the Statute of liberty is the symbol of New York. I tried to think of what would be the symbol of Birmingham (Besides racism and segregation that continues today). No, Vulcan is not the symbol of B'ham. You all ponder on that and tell me what you think the symbol of B'ham is.



The next couple of pictures are just random. Like I said, Macau is a gambling destination, but people don't stay more than one night usually, there really isn't much else to see. Nonetheless, it is a beautiful city, and a very interesting place. I think the first pic is of a big casino in the back drop.


We also visited the Venetian, which was gorgeous. The picture below is of the Venice section of the Venetian, complete with a river and boats with workers singing Italian songs to you and your lover, and yes, most of them had good singing voices.


This is just a picture from my Hotel window.


Okay, for dinner one night we went to a place called the fisherman's wharf, which seemed like a theme park type place. There where alot of replicas and sections that exhibited different cultures. Below you can see a replica of the Colosseum, there was New Orleans house, a Mississippi house, and several other American representations. I also found an African buffet restaurant that was wonderful. Sorry, I don't have many pictures of this place.

People are a work of art. God creates us with beautiful soft clay, and then we are thrust upon the world. Once we are in this life, the world adds clay to us, it molds us here and there, and even paints us certain colors. Hopefully, what the world has done is added to what God created, but that is not always true. Hopefully, what the world has done was left our initial purpose and character untouched, that God character, but that is not always true. Thus, we are immediately molded and pushed from God, and our lives are just struggle after struggle to get back to what we were suppose to be. I received some good news over the week that I had been accepted into grad school program at Claremont Graduate School in California. While I pray that finances will fall from heaven, I am over joyed that my next step or journey has been decided, and I stand doubtless that God is in it somewhere. Being in Hong Kong has allowed me to see how the world has shaped me, and some things are honestly not pretty, but other characteristics are truly exceptional, and I have you all to thank for it. My Family, Friends, and great institutions that have added clay and color. I look forward to seeing what I blossom into. Until I blog again, touch someone else as you have all touched me.

The Year of The Rat

While I wait for a Democrat to take more money out of my check, weaken my military, redefine Marriage, and continue the onslaught on the Zygote population; or a Republican to pretend that hunters may need assualt rifles and handguns to bag a trophy buck, (humans more often hunt humans with such weapons), and to plan the next government to topple or to believe that moving students from one school to another in some way improves the education system, and while Republican suits shutter over McCain and Huckabee bringing ruin to the Red Ranch, and Bill Clinton rustles through old closets trying to find his Black card and Black shoe polish for his cheeks, plenty of things have been rumbling through my mind.

So it is Black History Month, I guess I am suppose to be excited about that, especially since I will be teaching a course on The Black Experience next week, assuming that students will actually sign up for the course. I have spent many years running away from Black History, for a couple of reasons the largest being how it has always been fed to me with a notion that if I do not know these facts I am nothing. If the MLK's birthday slips my mind, somehow I am being disrespectful or if I do jump at the chance to learn about Harriet Tubman I am not Black enough and a disgrace to the culture. I understand such stories are suppose to give young brothers like me hope that I can achieve great things in a society that seems to know more about my color's failures than success; however, I've always had a mother to give me that encouragement; others aren't so blessed. During college, it came to my attention that all of my life (I know it is funny when a 24-year-old uses such a phrase) I have never been taught Black culture, but only dates, names, and places. When You study World War I, you study the ways in which it affected WWII and what was learn because of the two wars. At least in my education, when you study Black History you learn names what they did, where they did it, and how they died, and magicly you are suppose to gather something of substance from such a vague list of information. Perhaps I am strange, because some do get alot out of it, I need more. I treat Black History like I treat Church. If you expect me to enjoy a "God is Good all the time sermon" telling me what Christians already assume then you are wasting your time, I need more. Giving me a list of Black accomplishments doesn't make my face shine, I am proud, but uninterested; I need depth. I have rambled to ask the question: how do I teach facts and substance in eight classes? Moreover, how do I teach substance when I have not been taught substance? We will find out in the coming weeks.



Lets talk about health. While I write this I am sick, which is the second time on this trip. The first time earlier in the school year I was very fatigue, somewhat similar to my sickness in Cambine, Mozambigue yet here I am able to walk without worry of falling over. Now, I have the same fatigue very slightly, and stomach issues as well. Since my landing in Asia, I have lost 11 pounds due to the lack of Southern grease and American additives and other junk we lace our food with. I will be fine tomorrow. My spiritual health is intact, I just finished reading a wornderful book called I Don't Have Enough Faith To Be An Athiest by Normal L Geisler and Frank Turek. The book claims that it takes much more faith to be an athiest than a Christian, and ultimately more faith to believe in any other religion other than Christianity. It uses scientific research, logic, philosopical discussion to prove its points. With compelling evidence it reveals evolution as a broken theory and basically debunks all other faiths as truth. It was a really fantastic read. I also read The Alchemist, which was wonderful, and I am trying to sift through Surprised By Joy and The Abolition of Man both CS Lewis works, and I am about to start reading A Lesson before Dying by Earnest Gaines.

I want to be Liberated, free from what you see,

detached from the damage that my words,

my run-a-muck conclusion, and the skin color

illusion have on my character, what my heart

meant to say before my intellect got carried away.

Can I be carried away by free winds, not man made

oscillating fans. I want to liberated before captivity

consumes and dooms me. Set me free old truth,
and do it in my youth; not in the golden years when few

lend me their ears, arrogant, know it all young folks.

I want to be liberated, end the lease to the liar living

inside of me whispering apprehension, self-suspiscion

all within me, taking too lightly my potential. I want

to be liberated from secular sentiment, the morality

and animalistic freedom predicament. I want to be
free.

Writing is on and off here. The above passage is the first stanza in a new poem I am writing, but I stand stuck at the moment. Writing here is interesting. It doesn't come too easily, but when it does it is usually good, or at least something I like. Trust me, I have written tons of things I don't like, but I keep them as a reminder of my writing's development. My journaling has come to a standstill, but I am trying to get back to it. As for writing down my thoughts, that is sometimes promising and other times I just can't find the words. Poetry is strictly on inspired bases only. In the past, I could just make a poem out of my everyday thoughts, but not here. Perhaps that is good. My significant other has challenged me to write a Fiction work, which I have started on and it has proven to be a great challenge that I am enjoying.





As some of you may know, it is The Year of The Rat. Chinese New Year in Mainland has been affected by severe snow storms and a transportation gridlock because of it. Many of the students from central and northern China didn't even attempt to go home. In Hong Kong, there isn't any snow, but there is a chill factor that I did not expect. For the first part of the cold season I was reminded of the 93 snowstorm where my family were freezing in our powerless Pratt City home for days. Obviously, there is not any heat in the dorms so I broke down about a week ago and bought a small heater for about $25 USD. Despite its size, it makes my room very toastie.



There were plenty of feastvities in Hong Kong celebrating Chinese New Year. I only attended the parade which was smaller than I expected, but still interesting since I don't think I have ever seen a parade in person. Here are some pictures from the show.





I hope all the pictures have made you smile. They are just from around Hong Kong during the break. Here are some more.




Well, I hope this blog makes up for the last one, and brings a little cheer, laughter and careful thought into your lives. My mother's Birthday is in a week or so (FEB 22) and I hope that it is a great day, I think she is turning 30 or something close to it. I wish I could spend it with you mama. Until I blog again, be cool friends.

This Year is Truly New

I initially thought that he was simply a gimmick. A new Democratic token set in place to continue the notion that to be progressive you have to be liberal. He spoke, and I realized that he could tame fire and electricity all in the same breath. So, I thought, finally we have someone spectacular to replace Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, but I imagine that hot air or myself could replace them. He decided to run for president; I thought, well, that is extremely ambitious, I hope he has a bullet proof vest. Then there were the polls, the debates, and finally Iowa. Suddenly I thought, oh my damn!, this Negro might be able to win. I am not saying that Obama has my vote, but he surely has my utmost respect and a piece of my heart as well. It is no secret amongst my friends that my hat tilts to the right, I usually define myself as a moderate conservative, but who knows what will happen this year.

This is truly a new year. Discovering January 1st again doesn't make a year new, that is just recycling. A year is new when so much has changed, and it is very clear that the "new year" will have very little in common with the previous year. I know, we try to make it new by making resolutions that we never keep, or by following through with changing one thing in our lives, and usually it is something easy like new curtains or more environmental friendly light bulbs. A painted room is not a new room, it is just a room that's been refreshed. This year is ultimately new for me, because from now until December, I will be engaged in something new. From watching a Woman and African-American fight for the top spot in their political party, and it is almost frightening to think that they are the only contenders on the left side, (a tear for Edwards). I am facing my last semester here in HK with as much optimism as I can muster. I have applied to more graduate programs, and when I return home I will either be involved in a program I love, or be working and waiting to reapply, which is a thought that scares me more than Hillary Clinton as president (I couldn't resist, I just might move to Liberia if that happens). So, the year is new in the most revolutionary sense, and I am relishing in it.

It seems that I have alot of catching up to do. I will try my best to get you back on track with what's going on with me in HK, but it probably won't be in this blog. This blog is going to be very skimpy, sorry. Here is a picture from my HK Church's (The Vine Center) Christmas Play.

This is a picture of most of the ETAs and some of our Research Fulbright friends on a cruise sponsored by a great gentlemen named Danny Lui, along side our good friend Glenn Shive, who is responsible for making our program possible.

So my good friend Will came to visit for about two weeks. We had a good time, some moments were very funny, and others a little sad as we experience sudden battles with homesickness. It didn't feel like Christmas at all. New Years was brighter. We spent our time in Central waiting on fireworks that weren't really that good at all. It is sad when Birmingham, Alabama has better fireworks than you. We were pre-warned by some locals that New Years in HK is not that big of a deal, but that Chinese New Year will be something exciting and wonderful.




Here are my pals, Will, Shanita, Sarah, and me.


This Picture is taken during our long bus ride back to the airport. Will's time in HK had ended. I put him through some interesting living situations. The first week he stayed in an clean but small room that was about the size of an walk-in closet with a bathroom/shower combination. For the last part of his visit he stayed in a somewhat nasty dorm like hostel that was at least one hour and a half from my campus. The Hostel was on top of a small mountain, so it had a great view, but you had to take a 20 minute bus ride down the incline in order to get anywhere, and the bus didn't have a public transportation type schedule. In fact, if he didn't leave on the 11am bus, then he would be stuck until 3pm.

The next semester has started and things are looking better. Like I said in my last blog, I am being very optimistic and prayerful about as much as I can. These last two pictures are just random. This one is of the kids I try to teach. They were well behave during this class for the most part, perhaps my making half of them sit against the wall, and everyone sit in silence for ten minutes during the previous class had something to do with it. Probably not, they still ran around and ignored me and my colleague a little. And the last picture is of a HUGE pool table in a bowling alley in Hung Hom, HK.



Well, there isn't really much to say this time. Life is going as normal. I am certain that my next blog will be more eventful and interesting. Just keep your eyes open, until I blog again.

The Great Deception

When I was younger, I was an extreme pessimist and a complainer. I always assumed the worst. Perhaps this was a product of me not always getting what I wanted, and while growing up around children that always seemed to have so much more than me. By the time I got to college, I realized that I grew up lacking in superficial areas, but so rich in those areas that are more important to ones development. My childhood was not full of pain and despair. Just random moments of disappointment that would hurt any selfish child. I quickly learned that many things I can not change, but I can change my perception of these unmovable things like people, the past, and so on and so forth. I finally understand the full extent of the power of expectations.

Expectations can truly make or break a moment or an experience or even a person, and I must say that I expected more out of this excursion. When I refer to my expectations, I only mean those thoughts regarding the program, not the culture. One semester has passed and now I am lounging around assessing how the first semester went. Will is here now, and we have been doing some chillin here and there. The question of this blog is, how is the program thus far, and I am about to have a Ben moment were I am brutally honest and exposed to the entire world, or at least the five people who read my blog.

May it first be noted that this program is brand new, and was thrown together lightening fast, and so that fact alone creates natural problems with the tuning and tweaking of such a program, but I feel that somethings are inexcusable. I expected to be a teacher in some sense, but all I have become is an event coordinator. Let me break it down for you. You must first understand that there is or was a problem with defining who we are, staff or student assistants. As student assistants we are slaves, as staff we have rights. There was other discrepancies with whether we were full time or part time even though in Fulbright's eyes we are part time. I probably work the least out of all the ETA's because I purposefully tried to keep my plate empty, you all know how I need my free time to ponder, write and such, without it I will go postal.

My Weekly Schedule: I teach two tutorial sessions of English (3 Hours), and I assist one primary class and teach with a colleague in another primary class (2 Hours). I do Help Desk, which is 30 minute sessions assisting the students with any language training, which usually is just have a chat with them (4 Hours). I was involved in a Human Development Module (sit through a 2 hour lecture, spend maybe 1 hour a week assisting students in the class), where my precious time was wasted, not on purpose though. This is a new thing so no one knows what to do with us. Now, that means I spend 8 hours a week doing something that is close to teaching. I didn't include the Primary school because I don't teach there, nor do I want to. In the Drama class, where I assist a teacher, I do little which is fine. I enjoy just being there watching and talking sometimes. My other class, I have lost all hope and now just pop in a Disney movie whenever I can. In fact, most ETAs do not want to be involve in the primary school next semester, however the school advertised to all the parents that we will be there the whole year, even though we (ETAs) were told that the first semester was just a trail run. Since, the primary school will be a little embarrassed if we all suddenly dropped out, I think we are going to be pleaded with to play a much smaller role. Ben speaking: "you tellin me, that just because you organized a disaster and because you want to save face after jumping the gun, that I have to be involve in a level of teaching that my temperment is not made for, with bad children that never listen to me, nor am I trained in the art of running a primary school class, just so you won't look like a dumbass."

Now, where does the rest of my time go? Well, we have to do RA type programming in the halls, which can take up a little or alot of time. Then there is Club IEd, which takes up the bulk of my time, but I do the least amount of work among the five of us that are in charge of the Club IEd center. I spend 4 hours a week sitting in Club IEd being bored doing nothing. I spend Lord knows how much time discussing the type of activities we should have in the center, which always frustrates me, because I came here to something academic. I didn't come here to play games with students or plan parties for faculty, or sing and dance for anybody on this campus. But this is how the first semester has gone. I will not bore you with actual stories of our events, but in short we are expected to be activity coordinators, performers, and baby sitters more than were are expected to be teachers. I've have gotten off much easier than many of my colleagues.

Expectations can make or break an experience. Currently, I am unfulfilled and unsatisfied. Of course, there is light in this grim picture I have painted, and you have seen that light in past blogs. Something can't be negative without something positive existing as well, other wise everything is just indifferent, right. Also, some experiences, if not most, are what you make them. In these two weeks I have off of work, I will carefully think about ways I can make this experience more fulfilling, because the powers that be are not going to do it for me, nor do I think I could articulate to them what exactly I need at this juncture.

We went China this past week, and observed a secondary and primary school as well saw several universities around the Guangzhou area. The picture above is of students studying at the university where we were housed. Three are from Zambia. The trip was okay, I enjoyed the schools and the students. The primary school students were very excited about seeing an Black at their school, which was a major contrast from other experiences I have had here. It is funny how regardless whether we are all presented as teachers from America, the students will always choose the ETAs that they feel is most resembling of America. For example, if the students were asked to mingle with us and ask us questions about English or America, they would typically start with my White colleagues (there are eight of them), and then with my Brown Colleagues (there are three of us), and then my Asian Colleagues ( there are five of them). All this time I thought I was American, I am just an immigrant, go figure. I will let you ponder that for awhile. The most uncomfortable part of the trip was when we would get together with teachers and discuss class room/education issues, which none of us are qualified to do. At one school, one teacher asked us tons of questions concerning her primary school class. While some gave good answers, I sat there, thinking we shouldn't be giving advice on teaching. Hell, we aren't even teachers in our program for real. Now, if she asked about planning a yoga night or a Christmas party, or a game night, then we have more than enough experience to do that.

Never mind my rant, let us end my first experience in China on a good note, beautiful pictures and a video.

These three pictures below are from me and my colleagues teaching a secondary school class about Global Warming. We really didn't teach them anything, because they already knew everything, but whatever.

The picture below is a very funny story. One of the student's mothers actually works in Birmingham, AL at UAB. So, the student has actually visited Birmingham, and was somewhat familiar with my college (BSC), and my Highschool (JCCHS). It was all very strange. But here is the most hilarious part. Near the end of our visit, the students put on a talent show for us, where they acted out scenes from plays, did a little singing, one student actually recited the Gettysburg address (he forgot half of it, which undoubtedly single handedly damaged Chinese-US relations for several decades to come, I don't forget much). Several of my colleagues performed as well. My B'ham-China connection friend came up with some of his friends to perform a reenactment of Finding Nemo, which means a part of the film was played, but muted; and he and his friends provided the voices for the characters. We saw several such performances it is hilarious. Anyway, look below and see what T-shirt he is wearing.

I almost died laughing, for one moment I was that annoying parent in the front row who can't keep quite whenever their baby gets on stage.

The next group of pictures and the Video are from the Primary School we visited.

We sat in on this class about saving and not wasting.

Students waving at me. I actually have several pictures like this.

Here is me, my colleague (Sarah Kim), two teachers and the daughter of another teacher not pictured.

We did a little sight seeing. We went to a gorgeous temple, a museum, and shopping.

The bottom picture is from a cruise/dinner sponsored by the secondary school.

I know that the majority of this blog may sound much more on the negative side, but I am honestly only thinking positively about next semester. I will find my niche on this campus, I will find what my heart burns for, or cry trying. Forever wrapped in this endless search for something of substance, something that gets me angry, something pulls at my emotions, and leaves me knowing that there is no other path, but one. I hope you've found that thing that you most care about, and if not I hope you are not giving up the search. Until I blog again. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!