Music: Earth, Wind & Fire- ‘Head to the Sky’ and “ALL ’N ALL”

Beverage: Hot cup of Jo (coffee)

           What the hell, or where the hell, is Memfrica you ask? Well you’re not the only one asking, because I was totally unaware of Memfrica’s existence until this past weekend. While visiting the city of Memphis, Ten., for the Memphis Black Writers Conference, I was formally introduced to the land known as Memfrica. My initial introduction to Memfrica was made by a White Female bartender at EP’s Delta Kitchen (Elvis Presley’s Bar / Restaurant). Stunned by the fact that I tipped her generously, and thanked her after each drink, she asked me where I was from. After a brief conversation, I asked her if it was my non-Southern accent that gave me away as a foreigner, and she stated: “I just knew you weren’t a Memfrican, that’s all.” I sat there completely stunned. I asked myself: “Did this motherfucker just call me an African or a Nigger or something?” My blood began to slowly boil, and I started to think of what course of action I should take:

A) Should I ask to speak to her supervisor

B) Should I just get up and leave

C) Should I ask her “What the fuck did you mean by that Ignorant-ass comment?”

             I then remembered that I was down South, and the Race rules are a little different down there. Down South you’ve still got a certain group of people that haven’t gotten over a certain war that ended a century-and-a-half ago.

NOTE: These are the same idiots who make up the 30 % of Americans who still support our current President, and still support his misguided war in Iraq. Why does this matter? It matters because they think the Sunnis and Shi-ites should just get over it, and stop fighting a Civil War that’s been  raging for 1,300 years, but they refuse to put away their Confederate Flags and stop fighting a war they lost 140 years ago.

Oh well, let’s get back to Memfrica, shall we.

              I decided to exhale, gather my thoughts, and choose course of action ‘C.’ “Excuse me ma’am, what did you mean by Memfrican?” She immediately realized that even though I was different from them (i.e., Memfricans), that I was still one of them. She then politely explained to me that this term was created by the Blacks in Memphis, and they used this term quite often. She felt that Blacks probably created this term to pay homage to Memphis’s large Black population (according to the 2000 Census, the Shelby County / Memphis area was 48.6 % Black and 47.3 % White). I still found this term unacceptable, because that wasn’t the context in which she used it. So I asked her: “If that’s the Black definition (a large Black population), then what’s the White definition for Memfrican?” Because your comment ‘I just knew you weren’t a Memfrican’ has nothing to do with a large Black population.” She realized this conversation was spiraling downhill, and as she struggled to explain herself, I gave her a copy of my book White Men Can’t Hump. I explained to her that it’s not a Sex book, it’s a Race book that uses Sex as means of explaining many of the Racial problems in America. She read a little bit of it, we talked about the Quentin Tarantino chapter for a few more minutes, and then I left. As I left, feeling quite good because I thought I had just educated someone, the earth began to move. The sidewalk was vibrating, and storefront windows were shaking before my eyes. I attempted to gather my thoughts even though I couldn’t hear myself think. All I could mentally muster was “What the hell is that horrendous NOISE!” I then seen a long line of raggedy-ass cars with music blasting so loud you could physically feel the NOISE traveling through your body. I then realized that I was being formally introduced to Memfricans, in their natural habitat no doubt. As the line of vehicles (8 to 10 cars deep) drove down Main St., and past famous Beale St., I observed a spectacle unlike any I’ve ever seen in my life. Each vehicle featured at least 4 occupants, and at least 2 occupants in each vehicle felt the need to physically hang out of each window and scream profanity-laced hip-hop lyrics at pedestrians on each side of the street. Now I’m obviously not above the use of profanity, but this spectacle was different. Just imagine 8 to 10 cars, traveling down Main St. in your town, with music so loud you can see storefront windows shaking, and people hanging out of each vehicle screaming “Fuck them bitches, Fuck them ho’s, Suck my dick, Lick my nuts, etc., etc. (you get the point).” Hats were cocked to the side, mouths were full of metal (that ridiculous Grill bullshit), and pants were hanging lower than usual, because like I said, these guys were physically hanging out of their vehicles. I was absolutely paralyzed and I stood there in shock. I felt like going back into EP’s and apologizing to that bartender, because I now understood exactly what she meant. As I looked around, I could tell who the locals were, and who the tourists were. The locals went about their business, and the tourists stood there like me, in amazement. It was like traveling on an African safari in one of those jeeps, and pointing to the giraffes and lions and rhinos in their natural habitat. The only difference was, the tourists were the ones on foot, and the wildlife was in the jeeps. People stood frozen in their tracks, scared to move for fear of startling them, just like in the movie “Guerillas in the Mist.” As I looked at the stunned White faces, who were undoubtedly thinking “Look at the Guerillas in our Midst,” I put my head down and eased my embarrassed-ass down the street. Thankfully they turned down a side street, but out-of-sight certainly didn’t equate to out-of-mind, because you could obviously still hear them. As I continued my stroll ‘Out of Memfrica,’ I thought of Russell Simmons’ recent call for a ban on the use of the ‘N-Word’, the ‘B-Word’, and the ‘H-Word’. All I could do is shake my head and laugh. Banning those words doesn’t mean shit, because it doesn’t address the two ‘I-Words’ (Image and Influence).

           Those of you who’ve read my book, know that I don’t care for this hip-hop stuff, and I consider it a fad that will eventually die. I don’t begrudge these Brothers for gettin’ paid, but I feel that a certain amount of responsibility should accompany those fat paychecks. I understand the need to sing about your environment, but have some balance, and sing about getting an education, and getting out of, or improving that environment. In that regard, hip-hop is not only a major cultural failure, but it has exacerbated many of Black America’s problems. Here’s two quotes from my book that address the two ‘I-Words’:

Image:

              “There’s a time and a place for this shit, and that doesn’t mean all of the time or any old place. Remember what we’re talking about here: surviving vs. struggling to survive. Charles Barkley summed it up like this: “If I’m conducting a job interview and a White Guy comes in wearing a suit and tie, and a Black Guy comes in wearing a throw-back jersey and corn rows, I’m going to hire the White Guy.” In America, a young Black Male is like a baby seal. If he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time, his exterior will get him clubbed. The big difference is, baby seals don’t club themselves. Young Black Men club themselves when they overlook the Power of an acceptable appearance, and the Power of an education.

             Brothers please create your own identity. The people who are telling you that hip-hop is a cultural phenomenon, are telling you this because they’re getting paid when you buy their products. I respect these Black entrepreneurs and performers, but I don’t respect the fact that these very intelligent Black Men tell the Black Youth of America their product is a cultural event.

These men know damn well the cultural emphasis needs to be placed on education, not entertainment!”

Influence:

             “Only history can determine hip-hop’s role in the current Black Male educational malaise. At the current pace, the hip-hop community will only be remembered for their failure to become a cultural positive. If the only impact you have is negative, then you have no cultural relevance. All you have is your moment in the sun (i.e., short-term relevance), and a wasted opportunity to do good (i.e., long-term IRRELEVANCE).

The hip-hop community could attain the cultural relevance they think they already have, if they would start telling these young Brothers that education and appearance are the difference between surviving vs. struggling to survive.

             You’re selling yourself like a product everyday you walk out of the house. People inspect each other the same way they inspect fruit at the grocery store, and no one buys bad looking fruit. Brothers what you got to understand, is that we’re usually considered bad looking fruit right off the bat, so you’ve got to prove otherwise.”

              I’ve tried to defend these Brother’s right to be capitalists, and I’ve pointed out that movies and video games have an equally damaging Influence, and present equally damaging Images, but Memfrica was an eye-opening experience for me. The majority of this shit is garbage, and it’s not fit for human consumption. What’s unfortunate is the fact that White music executives are going to continue to sell it, because White Youths are going to continue to buy it, but it’s Black Youths who are damaged by it. White Kids eventually grow out of this fad because they view it as entertainment (i.e., a Minstrel Show), but Black Kids are being told this shit has cultural relevance, and many of them don’t grow out of this. After all, the Memfricans I observed hanging out of these cars were grown men. Far too many Blacks think this crap is their only hope and their only way out of poverty, and they’re being sold this illusion by hip-hop itself. Hip-hop is selling hopelessness to the hopeless, and it’s being bought by the hopeless, because the hopeless in question are usually uneducated, and when you lack education, you’ll buy any-damn-thing.

       As I continued my walk down Memfrica’s Main St., I eventually got far enough away from the NOISE, that I could gather my thoughts and lift my head. As I lifted my head and looked around, I witnessed another stunning site. Just a 10 minute walk from my embarrassment sat the Lorraine Motel; the site where Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. It still stands perfectly preserved, and now serves as the National Civil Rights Museum. I stood in awe of this historical structure. Though it seemed small in stature, there’s no doubt it looms large in significance. Having seen those pictures of fingers pointing from that balcony, I shed a few tears. It was both humbling and surreal to stand below the balcony where his bloodied body laid, nearly 40 years ago. After a few deep breaths I gained my composure, and I thought to myself “What would Dr. King think of the Memfricans I’d just observed?” Would he be proud because Black Men could openly express themselves, like those young men, or would he be embarrassed by such a spectacle? You already know what I think; I think Dr. King would’ve been embarrassed, but I wonder what Russell Simmons, the hip-hop performers, and the Memfricans would say?

Always remember my Humpers & Humpettes: “Life is too short to Hate.”

For those of you who think Memfrica is an illusion, feel free to Memphis, Ten., or just visit:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Memfrica

DEF: Memfrica

Proper Noun: A combination of Memphis (Tennessee, USA) and Africa (the well-known continent). This pejorative term is a generalization and based upon the poorer (and often dangerous) African-American neighborhoods which form a subset of the city.

Steve-o: Hey, I heard you were going to Tunica to gamble this weekend. Are you gonna stay there?

Truant: Although the hotels in Tunica are run-down and expensive, it beats staying in Memfrica.