Pass the Basket: My Thoughts on Eddie Long...

[Ghetto Girl Blue]

Pass the Basket: My Thoughts on Eddie Long...

It is reported that John C, Calhoun, a slave owner and
statesman, once said that if you could show him a nigger who could
parse a Greek verb or explain Euclid, he would be constrained to admit
that blacks had human possibilities. He also talked of a slave he
freed once, who was cold and starving in the north, and returned on
his knees to ask the master for food and shelter; to in fact, be in
bondage again.
So this is me, thinking freely on the recent sexual abuse allegations
against Eddie Long, despite my Christian up-bringing.
Sure, Jamal Parris are the other young men are telling the truth
about Eddie Long.
In high school, when I was learning to overcome my issues with rape
and molestation, I learned that sex crimes are not crimes of passion,
but of power. Eddie Long has demonstrated a gross abuse of power that
has hurt, not only his victims, but he has also verified the idea that
African Americans have not evolved much as free thinkers since
slavery.
My people, my people, wake up. Preachers are merely
philosophers who know how to make you feel good with gifted tongues
that are like drug that you believe is anointed by GOD. Many followers
cannot separate their love for GOD from their love for the pastor. To
some, the pastor is GOD. The relationship is not unlike that between a
prostitute and a pimp... Pass the basket.
I know the feeling Jamal Parris expressed in his interview, all too
well. My foster father was chairman of the Deacon Board at the church
where I learned to speak. While he did not work is way up to
intercourse with me during that, the 10th year of my life, I felt, if
I did not submit to his kisses, I would lose my place in the foster
home. I can close my eyes and still taste the mint on his tongue.
The worst thing about this situation is that it can truly compromise
the victim’s faith in GOD. I mean, before I was molested, I wanted to
become a preacher. Today, I am still searching for the connection I
used to have with GOD. I wield my gift of gab on stages in fishnets,
taking about sex, how to overcome its abuses and how to learn to love
others and yourself again.
The trouble with Christianity is that it teaches passivity,
humility and guilt. This would be fine if everyone in the world was
living this way. African Americans, have a more complicated history
with the Christian culture that finds its roots in American Slavery.
In the Black Church there is a hierarchy not unlike the American slave
plantation, in which the pastor is the Master and the Deacons are the
over-seers whipping subservience into you through guilt and promises
for a better life when this one is over. It's really weird when you
consider the fact that no one, even knows if there will be a life
after this one. Live is exactly what it is, and no amount of tithing
is going to make your burden lighter. Positive living will. Honesty
within yourself will. Being nice to people will. Praising a wig
wearing pimp of the gospel will not get you into heaven. I mean for
Christ's sake… there is a minister named Creflo Dollar WTF? How is
this possible? Have we no self esteem? Have we lost our minds or are
we still running around here with cotton picking minds, looking to get
in good with a master, who has the cure for the poverty and cold we
feel when we are forced to lean on our own understanding?
You see, when you are truly following the teachings of Jesus;
being meek and slow to speak, forgiving and turning the other cheek,
it is hard to stand up against those who manipulate the ideas of Jesus
for power, fame and fortune. It is even harder to stand up against
those who are feeding you and taking care of you, as a father would.
Add poverty into the equation and it's a wrap. When I am not on stage,
I am shy, quite humble, and find it very difficult to stand up for
myself. I was thought to be this way, through foster care, the welfare
system and through my Christian faith. To do what I do on stage, I
have to morph into Ghetto Girl Blue, a stronger manifestation of
myself, that can say anything, do anything - a diva who is in control
of her own sexuality.
I send my prayers and positive energy to the young men, and
wish for them, a strong recovery. And to you, my beautiful friends and
fans, I have a very simple reminder that Jesus, himself, was murdered
for believing and teaching as he did. Oh, he was safe as he traveled
the wilderness and minded his own business. But once he decided to go
to the temple and protest against God’s house being used as a flea
market for merchants, he was messing with money. So He died, humbly,
asking God “why?” - on a cross the carpenter probably made for
himself. Yes, the man we claim this religion is all about, died next
to a common thief.