Obama's Wright Mind

This past week's events have re-patrioted a nation while putting the world on caution. The killing of Usama Binladen last Sunday was vital news to most Americans. Much like 9/11, Americans will remember where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news...'Usama Binladen is dead'.

I was watching Celebrity Apprentice, enjoying the cackling between NeNe and Starr (you have to watch the show to understand). The "Breaking News" abruptly interrupted the show right at the best part. Maybe intentionally done by the Prez to poke back at Donald Trump for the birther nonsense over the past month. Nonetheless, the President addressed the American people saying Osama bin Laden had been killed.

As I watched the TV, I was neither happy or sad, grateful or remorseful. The news came and I thought...Ok...now what. There hasn't been much in the way of major news on Binladen since 2004...Bush's election year. Although, we could deep dive and argue the relativeness of Binladen and the origins of his terrorist theology but for this blog we can agree that his persona has been the galvanizing focus legitimizing a war against terror for the common American.

In the now what of a 'Binladen-less' world, we saw scenes of people cheering at the White House, Ground Zero, interviews and blogs expressing happiness that Binladen was dead. In the midst of the country's joy, I couldn't help feeling justice may have been replaced with vanity. Americans, in all of our bravado, all of our 'winning', our 'John Wayne-ness', were happy that the good guys won but I couldn't help but wonder what was going through the mind of our President.

In the wake of 5/1, I began wrestling with the realization that our President may not be who we thought he was. Historically, African-American leadership has maintained a priority of social justice and equity. Our leaders have always had a moral prophetic tongue, willing to speak out against injustice to the most powerful of the land. But what happens when the most powerful of the land is one of us?

During the 2008 campaign, we learned that President Obama was nurtured and mentored by Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Then Senator Obama, came under fire for his 20-year relationship with Rev. Wright as Wright was mis-characterized as a hate-filled, separatist Black preacher. But Black folk are familiar with the theology of Rev. Wright, a theology founded in Black Liberation, an exegesis of social justice from the doctrine of Christ applied to the struggle of oppressed peoples.

For many of us, Rev. Wright legitimized Sen. Obama, giving him clout as a subscriber to a long history of social justice warriors. Rev. Wright was a mentor to him, like Elijah to Malcolm and an inspiration like Thurman to Martin. President Obama spent formative years engaged in the study and application of Wright's theological narrative of Black struggle. He was a student and well grounded in what King called the triplets preventing social change, "racism, materialism and militarism". Bearing the most profound legacy of social justice then any President, accompanied with a familiar ‘face’ and language, preaching a rhetoric of hope and change, prompted the Norwegian Nobel Committee to award him the Nobel Peace Prize. Today that awarding seems premature as our nation is more occupied with Bush's "Axis of Evil".

So, what now… We have to give up the notion that President Obama has come in the spirit of King. He's not a Civil Rights leader or a social activist, he is a politician. A politician filled with empathy and compassion but a politician nonetheless. Being a politician requires conciliatory responses to what you may normally oppose done for the sake of progress. Binladen was a concession to the Presidency. It was a political goal, whether we like it or not that had to be achieved if presented the opportunity.

This wasn’t his first Presidential concession and won't be the last. We’ve witnessed others like Libya and the continued push of militarism in Africa and the middle East. There are national efforts that were in place long before President Obama. Maybe we shouldn’t hold him to the fire for those and look deeper into their origins and purpose.

A President of Change is a momentous task. President Obama maybe our best prepared leader for change. Yes, I cringe every time he refers to Abraham Lincoln as a great influence but I believe he can be a ‘King’ sitting in the oval office… but only if he maintains his ‘Wright’ mind.

When Giants Collide We can Move Forward

What happens when two Black iconic activist go at it head-to-head on national tv? The black blogger news gets to buzzin', positioning two important voices against one another, like Tupac vs. Biggie. Both are relevant and important so why do we have to choose a side?

Dr. Cornel West and Rev. Al Sharpton where featured on Ed Schultz's, "The Black Agenda" expose'. The program focused on how current government policies, particularly those enacted under President Obama's administration, can make a stronger America from the perspective of the Black discourse. A couple of questions that initiated this spirited debate, 'is the President actively working to relieve the plight of the poor?' and 'what exact policies has he initiated to that resolve?'

Rev. Al held in support of the President. Dr. West charged him accountable for helping the poor and called into question his effectiveness. Critiquing policies of a Commander-in-Chief isn't a new phenomena (God knows Black folk gave George W. the blues) African-Americans have long questioned the actions of past presidents and their commitments to resolving poverty.

President Obama brings the Black narrative to the office of the President. A narrative rich in the tradition of championing those who are at the bottom of America's 'pot'. Black folk have an instant connection with him like a 2nd cousin or even better...like Will & Jada...as if we know either of them. But because of our shared experiences, our ebonic connections, there is a bond we have with our President and a measure of support and loyalty expected in return.

Dr. West has long questioned President Obama's commitment to the poor even before he was President. During Obama's campaign, West expressed nervousness because he was only hearing Obama's discourse on the middle class and nothing referring the poor. During the "Black Agenda" program, Dr. West continued to question this lack of discourse and policy coming from the Oval Office.

Rev. Al, another advocate for the poor and vulnerable, has maintained his same view of Obama pre-election as well. Rev. Al had frequently commented that Obama is not a civil rights activist, he is a politician and should not be expected to maintain an activist level of social commitment. During the program he put the onus on Congress to initiate and push policy for the poor that could later be signed by the President.

As they debated and shouted across Ed Schultz, like two 'brothas' arguing whose better Jordan or Kobe, the logic and reasoning began to be difficult to decipher over the heated exchanges. The show ended on a adversarial note, without conclusion or a bridging of positions. Leaving viewers wondering if the conversation had moved from an intelligent debate to a personal confrontation.

How most of us should have viewed this and future debates, is remembering the importance of keeping the best interest of the people the priority. Rev. Al has been committed to the work of service for decades. Dr. West has been a leader, mentor and advocate for our community for the same. Both have love, desire and an earnest will to uplift those who are being left behind. Both warriors in the Jihad against poverty, crime, poor education and all inequities that plague poor communities. Both have the same objectives and goals just a difference in achievement.

Different roads can be taken to get to the same destination. How we get there shouldn't become the focus and blur the vision for our future. Sharpton and West had a difference but both desire the same end. So let's not get confused over some entertaining antics and heated discourse. The upliftment of a people is important business and will take warriors on all roads to get us to our destination...including the warrior sitting in the Oval Office.

The Islamic Exclusionary Act of 2012: The Beginning

In 1942, America was at war. The bombing of Pearl Harbor marked U.S. entry into World War 2 and also exposed the still latent bigoted prejudices of a country. Americans of Japanese descent were politicized with the war and were subjected to discrimination and regulated to American concentration camps.

Japanese presence had been established with immigrants coming to America working the gold mines in the late 1800s. America in those days was not only prejudiced against African-Americans but also Asians and any other ethnicity considered to be 'non-white'. Japanese students were segregated in California schools and with the passing of the "Oriental Exclusion Law", were blocked from attaining American citizenship.

The Japanese were not violent or aggressive, combative or even anti-American. They were victims of fear-mongering propaganda during a time of war. In 1942, 100,000 Japanese were sent to "War Relocation Camps" on Executive Order 9066. Of the 100,000 forced into these camps, 70,000 were Japanese-American citizens.

How could this happen in 1940 America? How could Jim Crow and "colored only" segregation happen? And who was enforcing these unconstitutional practices? We could argue the complicity of state and government officials but certainly, the assent of fear and hate propaganda placed the common American in opposition to peaceful minority groups.

This proliferation of fear and hate has always been the pre-amble to the acceptance of the "radicalization" of our constitution and our American values.

It is important to note that Anti-Islamic propaganda did not begin with 9/11. I can recall, as a young boy, threatening phone calls made to our Mosque during the Iran hostage crisis in 1979. At that time, the "radicalization" of the Muslim image was exacerbated through the media and hollywood, as middle easterners were consistently cast as anti-American terrorist.

In Denzel Washington's movie, 'The Siege', a friendly American Muslim was cast as his partner and good friend. A movie set in New York following the first 1993 terrorist attack depicting New York City under siege by suicide bombers. As if taken directly from the archives of Japanese-American history, Muslims were 'relocated' into gated camps by the military out of fear that any Muslim could take allegiance with the enemy.

Today's Homeland Security Committee hearing chaired by Rep. Peter King seemed all too surreal and yet familiar. I watched the hearing as if I was the 'Muslim' in a documentary depicting how the "Islamic Exclusionary Act of 2012" began to take shape.

Rep. King's, supposedly innocent, preemptive hearing to examine the 'status' of the American Muslim mindset further moves the paradigm of imbalance and xenophobia closer to the danger zone. If there was some good to come out of the hearing, which I watched and did hear some stories of support, most of America will mostly draw concern as they only get media sound bites, a headline or two and the news ticker scrolling at the bottom of their TVs showing,

"A Congressional Hearing was held on the Extent of Radicalization of among American Muslims".

Once again, the words 'Radical' and 'Muslim' are made to be synonymous and the fear propaganda continues.

We as Americans must be very careful at this particular time. We cannot accentuate the extremist actions of a few over the peaceful lifestyles of the majority of Muslims. Terrorism should not be categorized or presented as a 'Muslim' issue. Terrorism itself is a perceptive concept. Edgar Hoover labeled Martin Luther King and most Black Civil Rights groups as threats to America and terrorist.

There is a long-standing American Muslim narrative of peaceful civility and the American Dream. The narrative being presented by Rep. King and most American media outlets is not only unfair to the six million American Muslims but is also beginning to challenge the American Muslim's civil and possibly human rights.

In 1988, President Ronald Reagan signed legislation which apologized for the internment of the Japanese on behalf of the U.S. government. The legislation said, "government actions were based on race prejudice, war hysteria, and a failure of political leadership". The U.S. government not only admitted it's fault but disbursed more than $1.6 billion in reparations to Japanese Americans who had been held captive and their heirs. I should mention descendants of 300 years of slavery still have not received any reparations...but I digress.

America has long been the 'melting pot' of the world. Today's Americans are descendants from every corner of the earth. Our values as a country are God-centered which is ecumenical, cross-cultural, aracial and at the foundation of the Constitution. It doesn't matter our faith, the moral authority to recognize right vs. wrong is something we have always shared.

It is not Islam that is radical but the individual who becomes radical. Rep. Shelia Lee said it well, "you can't clean a dirty kitchen with dirty water". We have a constitution that upholds the rights and freedoms of every American...Muslim and non-Muslim. Terrorism is ugly and immoral but it's also indifferent of faith. Acts of terrorism are committed by and against individuals from all groups and from all faiths. Hearings such as these are not how we 'clean the kitchen'.

The KKK and Martin Luther King were both Christian. Yet, a hearing was not held on the "Radicalization" of American Christians. We don't demonize the silent Christian liberals and conservatives who remained quiet during the Civil Rights movement or during the detainment of Japanese-Americans. We also have not charged them with the responsibility to eradicate a radical minority.

I get confused with all the different terminologies being used to define Islam. Radical Islam, Islamism, Muslim Moderates, Islamic extremist, Muslim Extremist, etc. are all terms referencing Islam but none define what it is or what a Muslim is to be.

I don't really know what a 'moderate' Muslim is, as if there is a Muslim meter with moderates in the middle and extremist at the end. There's only one type of Muslim described in the Holy Quran, which is one who serves God and serves humanity. Muslims live by the universal moral code that all people of faith follow.

What should be addressed is the "politicalization" of Islam and how western imperialist politics have aided in creating this climate. Hmm...I wonder who would actually conduct that hearing? Anyway, radicalization of individuals doesn't happen in a vacuum, it's a process fueled by apathy and pain...not religion.

Just like in 1942, America today is at war with a people whose lifestyle and religious practices are virtually unknown to the American people. There were officials who falsely proselytized discrimination and hate against Japanese Americans. Today Rep. King, in the spirit of his bigoted forefathers commenced to committing the same crime.

After watching the hearing, I do believe the racist motives of the organizers were thwarted with honest testimonies and defenses of Muslim Americans by both Muslims and non-Muslims. I pray this is the spirit that goes forward....aw damn....just read the news ticker.

The Dungeon

The guide leads us down a dark hall into a chamber with no light or exit. The floor changes from cobble stone to a dark brownish hard clay-like material. A British man asks, "how many Africans came through this dungeon? The guide responds, "at least two million." That number reverberated through my body as I griminced at the shear magnitude of what happened in this place. All of my readings and presumptions of the slave dungeons did not prepare me for my first hand viewing.

The slave dungeon at Cape Coast, Ghana is the largest slave dungeon built in West Africa. It remained in operation for over 300 years in the business of human theft and destruction. The journey for captured Africans did not begin in the dungeon. Many Africans were captured in what is today called Nigeria. Captured Africans would be marched in chain links 300 miles to the coasts of Ghana. They were hearded with the care of unwanted cattle, beaten, unclean, their bloodied bodies forced on this death trek. The strong survived, the weak killed. On arrival in Ghana, they would receive their only washing. Covered in blood, urine and feces, dehydrated and near death, the survivors would be marched into a river, changing it's blueish-green color to one of brownish-red. The river is now referred to as "Blood River". If you survived the walk then you were 'welcomed' to the dungeon.

Words can't capture the emotions that attack your spirit the moment you step into the dungeon. A peculiar stinch addresses your nose as you hesistantly walk down into the male dungeon. You attempt to rationalize with yourself that the smell must be because the building is old but you quickly realize the worst. The floor which was once dirt and gravel is now a cement of compressed excrement, urine and blood. Captives were packed in like 'sardines' with no place to move. They were kept in rooms filled with bodily waste for months, were allowed limited movement and on occassion hearded into a small room with a single window to see the light of day.

I could go on. I could describe the women's quarters, who suffered in worst conditions and were subjected to rape and death if pregnant. This was a crime against humanity, the African and God that continued for 400 years. There is absolutely nothing humane about the dungeon...nothing. Our small, diverse tour group were mostly silent and introspective. We would ask pertinent questions followed by sighs of disbelief.

In each room I prayed. I prayed for the mother, the father, the son, the daughter. I prayed for every one of the 2 million Africans that were held here. I prayed for those that survived and those that didn't. I prayed for the families from which they were taken. As heavy as my heart had become, overwhelmed with emotion, as we arose from the dungeon into the clean African ocean air, I took a deep breath and thanked God. I thanked God for my ancestor who survived. My ancestor who survived the walk to "Blood River", who survived months in the dungeon, who survived the middle passage and 400 years of slavery in America.

We left the Cape Coast with a feeling of purpose. There's a reason for our being. It may not be for us to just exist in the comforts of our 'world' but to offer a contribution to make it better. At least that's what the ancestors told me as we drove off.

Ghana Jalsa

The two lane road is backed up like taxis in Times Square, "what is all this traffic?", I ask our driver, he responds, "Jalsa!" We continue to inch forward to arrive at a large white fence, Ghanain flags and a sea of people. The Khuddam stand post at the huge black gate, they verify our VIP then two young men open the doors to the campus. All I could manage was Allahu Akbar, 'God is Great', as my breath was taken away for what laid upon my eyes.

People who have witnessed this marvelous event, have always expressed such deep emotions in their descriptions. They would attempt to explain the magnitude, the spiritual energy, the sheer visual beauty but all fail to do it justice. As an African-American muslim, it is the most surreal feeling to be in the midst of African people celebrating Islam as it has been inherently passed down to them from the time of the Prophet of Islam. The order of the Khuddam as they go through their protocols like a well-trained military corps. The Ameer of Ghana greeting his guest in his formal african 'whites' with thousands more laced in african clothing, at a level of sharpness the american eye has never seen. Behind this buffet of order and beauty, the melodious sound of singers serenading praises to the Most High. Their African harmonies reminiscent of the most southern black gospel choirs. To justifiably explain this awe-inspiring event is virtually impossible.

As the Ameer and guests make their way to the front stage, cheers of 'Allahu Akbar', 'Oninche' and 'Onkwoso' are harmoniously song in response by a crowd large enough to fill a football stadium. The men raising their hands with bright smiles and the women waving handkerchiefs in the air all greet the stage-party. As the VIPs take the stage the singers return to lay another soul-stirring 'jam' on the crowd. They cheer, sing along, and are in complete joy as God is praised in their native tongues. It's an African 'tent' revival going on live!

The VIPs speak with passion of attending Ahmadiyya schools when they were young and to now holding government offices. They speak of the community work that is being done in Ghana; the schools, hospitals, farming, the good people, etc. A greeting from the President of the country is read by his representative. Then another song. The Ameer addresses the crowd and officially opens the Jalsa..then another and another song. The energy is unreal. I'm so excited I find myself cheering in song with the rest of my sisters and brothers as if my soul had returned home and remembered all of this.

Equality of men and women in Ghana is openly practiced. Men and women marquis' stand side-by-side giving both sexes equal view of the stage and activities. I can't explain the beauty in prayer when lines are formed in the designated areas but quickly overflow into the street and parking lot. No hesitation as prayer rugs are layed in unison covering the grounds. Finding some cover under a row of palm trees, shoulder-to-shoulder I stood linked with my African family...Allahu Akbar!

Each day goes on like the above, every moment we enjoy while hoping to decipher a way to package it all and bring home. Some things I choose not to disclose because it is so uniquely African, it's like a pureness that should never become tainted even by the least misunderstanding. In Ghana, we all are family, equal in every way. I've ofter imagined what Islam must have been like during the days of the Prophet...I no longer need to imagine but just remember this experience at the Ghana Jalsa.

I have to mention, having the honor to speak was like a dream. Nothing happens by chance and whatever reason God brought me to Ghana. I spoke just before the Ameer with the crowd at full attention. I spoke of my return being the answer of the prayers raised from the hulls of slave ships. I spoke on how the return to Africa has taken 400 years. I spoke of my Ummi, who has passed on. I thanked them...I thanked God. As I ended with a prayer for them and for Ghana, loud cheers and song rang throughout the campus. I became filled with emotion and thought of my Ummi and told her...thank you!

The Jalsa ended with the Ameer of Ghana delivering an inspirational, powerful speech. He spoke with bravado and conviction, inspiring the crowd with love and purpose. Deep into the night the cheers continued until the mahgrib and insha prayers were called. The 2011 Ghana Jalsa is over...now I can only think...how can I get back next year! Allahu Akbar!

Akwaaba - Welcome Home.

Among the backdrop of red clay dirt, a Saharan sand-dusted sky, hearty green bushes and trees, reside the most color-filled people of God’s earth. The people of Ghana, with their deep, rich, brown skin tones, adorned with bright, colorful, handmade batiks create a soul-stirring landscape that sings to your spirit…God is here.

Ghana, which is the name given to the former Gold Coast by Dr. Kwame Nkrumah is Arabic for independent. The name was given in 1957, when Ghana gained its independence from British colonization. I’ve been forever anxious to know what it would be like be in a place where everyone was Black like me. In a country that is independent of systemic racial oppression and white supremacy. I wondered what would be the psychological status of a people that have never known ‘willie lynch’. My inbred American complexes would have me to believe it would be like the old Tarzan movies full of bush and animals roaming. Or like the way the lady at the place who provided our shots, cautioned us of the numerous infectious diseases and not to eat fruit or anything indigenous or not stamped by the FDA. I even wondered would their be militants running the streets like in every African nation according to CNN…and oh yea, the monkeys…that is another story.

My anxiety grew as we crossed the great Atlantic, then the mighty Alps and finally the incomparable Sahara Desert. In flight, I pondered making this journey in the days of old. How many a soul lost attempting to cross this vast land. I thought of my brothers and sisters who have longed to make this journey, those who will one day and those who will not. I focused on the blessing presented to me and opened my soul to receive whatever good would be awaiting.

I clearly remember waking just at the moment we hit the land shores of Africa. From 25,000 feet it was just as magnificent a moment as I imagined. An excitement of energy resonated throughout my body as I attempted to contain my emotions…I’m flying over Africa. The land from where all of my historical and spiritual contexts were born. What an amazing feeling to return to the place where my ancestors lived since creation. I could almost hear the angels running to those souls, the souls that prayed in the hulls of slave ships and plantations, longing for their children to one day return home. ‘We’re here baby!’ I told my wife as we landed. The plane door opened to reveal a greeting of tropical ocean air and heat. I inhaled the air of my homeland and I prayed the angels to tell my direct ancestors, the ones whose blood run through my very veins, tell them…Hafiz is home. Now the story begins….

FEAR or FAITH

I remember my early summers in St. Louis. We lived in an apartment complex with a pool. Although, my parents were just making ‘ends-meet’, I thought the complex was the best neighborhood ever. My friends and I would venture to the pool everyday during the summers, take a break for lunch, then back till closing. We had a full-size pool, up to10 feet deep and a diving board. As a little guy, the diving board was the most intimidating, majestic and awe-striking part of the pool. It encapsulated everything about being a ‘man’ at the pool.

Shortly after I passed the test to swim in the deep end, my next goal was to conquer the diving board…but I was afraid. I had a friend who frequently dove off the board who encouraged me to take the jump. One day, she walked me up on the board, holding my hand, we both eased to the end. Looking below, all I saw was water, the unknown, my heart racing, I was filled with fear. My friend stepped back and said “jump, you’ll be okay!” I believed her but couldn’t muster the courage or the faith to jump.

In recalling this moment, I thought of the often paraphrased verse where Jesus says, “if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matt: 17-20. The faith of a mustard seed can move mountains!

Take a moment and reflect on yourself. When has fear won over faith? How much faith do you have? Many of us have had moments in our lives when we’ve looked down from our ‘diving board’ with more fear than faith. We hold tight to what’s familiar, tangible, reliable and not move forward with faith where the impossible becomes possible and our goals and dreams are realized.


In the Holy Quran, God is “the All-Knowing, the All-Aware” and states often, “It is I who provides.” We are reassured that God provides for us and knows what waits for us in the ‘pool’. Faith requires us to overcome our fear and move forward even when we are comfortable in our current condition or afraid of the unknown. When God gives us our visions and dreams He also makes the provision for their success but faith is required.


God reminds us, “Most surely in the heavens and the earth there are signs for the believers. And in your own creation and that of all the creatures which He spreads in the earth are Signs for a people who possess firm faith.” – Quran, 45:4-5. Faith doesn’t require miracles so don’t wait. The greatest miracle is your very existence.


I did jump off that diving board. I asked God to protect me, closed my eyes, held my nose and ‘splash’…now it’s your turn.