How the Kenneth Foster Case Relates to Me

At freekenneth.com we have this:

Kenneth had no part in the death of Mr. LaHood. He did make the mistake of not driving away from the argument that was taking place between Mr. LaHood and Mr. Brown. For the foolish mistakes of failing to immediately run away from the group of men who were engaged in criminal activity earlier in the evening is an act of poor judgment that Kenneth will live with for the rest of his life. He is paying far too dear a price for simply being reluctant to object to the conduct of others much earlier in the evening. Kenneth’s supporters strongly believe that Kenneth should not be on death row for failing to drive away when Mr. LaHood and Mr. Brown were arguing when he never once expected a death to occur as a result of a wrong turn on an unfamiliar street and a flirtation between Mr. Brown and Ms. Patrick. [Edited for syntax]

It is this issue of “poor judgment” that relates to me. It is not the point of this article to go through the almost hopeless task of trying to prove to the unconcerned that self-described “white guys” have the racial privilege of poor judgment. You are already supposed to have some idea that this ‘privilege’ is possible.

It is also not the task of this article to help the unconcerned to understand that my old joke about Texas is tragically funny: When a Texas police officer stops your car for a routine traffic stop and he slips on a banana and dies while walking to your car—you have to die. Be aware that I tell this joke mostly to young Black men—and most of them understand when I say, ‘You have to die’—they understand the racial connotations. My joke has little effect on Black women eager to invest in relatively cheap Texas real estate (until perhaps their teenage son gets into trouble).

It is the horrible and huge task of the Foster family and their active supporters to explain to “the world” (the unconcerned) concepts that I have the luxury (for now) of dismissing. This is a world dominated by media that can ignore “collateral” civilian deaths on the order of millions. My commendations go out to coverage by Democracy Now! in “The Case of Kenneth Foster: Texas Prepares to Execute Man for Driving a Car Near Scene of Murder.”

My colored self can have such fragile ‘luxury’ because of the conscious relationship my person has with judgment. My judgment places the Kenneth Foster case in the same context with a U.S.-made, Israeli missile launched on the moving vehicle of a “known terrorist.” The media world does not care that there were four or five other people in the car with the “known terrorist.” The Texas attitude led by Bush fascism says, “Kill them all.” That’s harsh Texas-big killing.

My judgment has to be “harsh”—and what is “harsh” for most victims of American youth culture over the last 30 years is to have judgment in the first place. For those of you who are old enough to have lived through the “peaceful and non-judgmental” fad of white liberals you may know where this is coming from. And I’m concerned that my words “white liberal” are distracting you—you have to understand that “white liberal” refers to self-described people “of color” as well.

When a family member or a former close friend accuses me of being “harsh” because I refused to communicate with, say, my own brother while he was in prison, this is more white liberal bullshit. (My brother, I am told, was the first juvenile in Georgia history to be tried as an adult.) These colored white liberals fail to understand that people “of color” trapped in the criminal “justice” system tend to pull other people “of color” into this system as well. Don’t ask me to place a phone call to a prison because I do not want this prison to have any records that link directly to me. I would have called the prison from grandma’s house—not my house! These colored, white liberals who are surprised about the events surrounding the Kenneth Foster Case have a problem with correct information and imagination.

So, on these two Black extremes we have a social group of formal, hardened criminals and then we have the Pollyanna group of “clean” citizens. I refuse to associate with both groups and this leaves me, for the most part, alone. Both of these groups have problems with correct information and imagination. And I refuse to pretend that this is otherwise just to have artificial relationships that represent just another form of being alone.

You see, folks, both of my blood brothers are convicted felons—and both of them are this way largely because of their lack of “harshness.” This sounds very strange to those who have any idea of the history of my brothers—and how many physical beatings they have dished out over the years. But you have to understand that the anger fueling their beatings comes from being hurt to their heart by some kind of betrayal. It is very difficult to hurt me like that because my eye is watching closely and passing that “harsh” judgment. And when it comes to fighting, my action goes beyond the physical…

You see, like Kenneth Foster, my brothers are social people. This means they like to engage people just because they are “good” at it. They don’t love humanity any more than I do—but they loved society far more than I ever did (note the past tense). It is dangerous for a Black man to love a racist society. This unrequited love limits the imagination:

• Whenever I walk past an armored car parked next to bank with the engine running, I can imagine being shot for nothing.
• Whenever I walk to my car in the employee parking lot and a woman is in front of me passing the usual furtive glances over her shoulder, I can imagine being accused of some kind of assault for nothing.
• Whenever I walk past a strange car and its cheap-ass alarm goes off, I can imagine being accused of breaking into that car even when both of my hands are full of shopping bags.There are literally hundreds of other things I can imagine that may sound strange or “paranoid” to that bitch I call Pollyanna but then, “gasp,” “golly,” “gee,” look at this Kenneth Foster case… And this is why, boys and girls, ambitious prosecutors need an all-white jury—to make sure that the imagination is limited.

Let me drop a few more childhood facts that might help:

• When I was a young boy I learned that when a gunshot went off I need to look at any bystanders to see where they think it came from and then walk/run away from the consensus direction. Any curiosity about who is shooting and other bullshit like that can be found out later. No one tells me to stay in my current position when a gunshot reports with the expectation that I am going to follow their directions.
• The very concept of me as a bystander or spectator is consciously rejected. I have seen enough street fights and car accidents to imagine what is happening without taking too long with looking.
• Usually, by the grace of divine presence, a person will say something or do something that is a small symbol representing serious, huge, destructive tendencies. My manner of conversation is to engage. My talent at small talk is extremely limited. This means that I suck at business dealing and fair-weather befriending but great at escaping the danger of crazy motherfuckers. Many, many times others have accused me of being “harsh” until that motherfucker goes off.
• When I was teenager—before I could drive—my mother made sure I had a California ID Card. She angrily and sternly told me that she was getting me this ID card to prevent the police from taking me back to the precinct to “identify” me (and possibly cause my “accidental” death).
• My father never bought a car for me. He knew that the car would be used to pick up girls—so his reasoning was simple and effective: “I’m not screwing those girls, you are—so you get the car!” This one, “harsh” act alone removed me from many social situations that can transform into a Kenneth Foster case.
• When I was a teenager, no dude with a Jheri Curl could be my friend. This hairstyle choice indicated a lack of judgment that I did not have the “luxury” to confine to hair care. These “strange” correlations can be a life saver.
• The concept of “boys’ night out” is almost completely alien to me. The idea that a group of men would travel together, making sexual expressions in front of each other, is a form of socializing that to this day I fail to appreciate. My preference is to go out alone to meet others or go with one woman. Group travel for me means something happening in the daytime with my children. So the “tragedy” behind my successful escape from “the ghetto” is my honed and highly developed sense of judgment. I have found this to actually be a short-term liability in my adult/corporate life. It’s a totally different experience for me to see, say, a database full of financial data for private prison investments (many of you that read this Blog might forget about my IT experience when I “rant” about racism). To be accused of “harsh” judgment implies that I am “intolerant.” What do you think most “regular people” do to alleged intolerant people? One example of my “intolerance” was with the mother of my second child. She lives in a very affluent part of Los Angeles and has no problem walking her dog late at night in what I call a “white neighborhood.” She, being a nice colored girl, would stop crossing the street with her dog to speak with her fellow (white male) dog-walking peer and have a little, friendly neighborhood chat on a poorly lit street after 9pm. She clearly worked hard all of her life just to have such moments—and I’m “hopelessly mired” in a black non-reality. So I keep walking across the street and ended up waiting for them, say about 80 feet away (like what Kenneth Foster did for his homeboy). I was very upset for rest of the night—and the mother of my child did not (and my hope is that she never will) understand (for the sake of our son)—but had this guy walking his dog died in front of us… anyway… you can see why I need to be left alone…

Whatever was developed by me is not helping Kenneth Foster… not right now… it would please me exceedingly to know that he would have more time to live and develop something similar for the protection of himself and his family.

More prison industrial complex material:

• “Ezrah Aharone: Arms, Africa, and America’s Inmate Industry”
• “bell hooks: Connecting Self and Community”
• “Angela Davis: The Prison Industrial Complex”

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