Father of Civilization
You are the father of civilization,
A steady lighthouse guiding lost ships,
Molding boys into men of honor,
Giving daughters the strength to rise,
And ensuring women reign beside kings.
You are the sunâradiant and mighty,
Pouring golden wisdom into our souls,
Your words whisper through the halls of time,
A beacon of truth, unwavering and bright.
You are our shield, our iron wall,
Standing firm against the world’s tempests,
Steady hands catching us when we fall,
Guardian of love, keeper of light.
You are the father of civilization,
The force, the fire, the foundationâ
The heart that beats within us all.
Happy Father’s Day! Written By: Negral
MY GRANDFATHER WAS A GREAT ONE
When I think of Father’s Day, I think of a lot of the men in my family and of a couple of family friends that I’ve known all my life. I think of all of their good and great qualities that helped shape me and though I’m well aware of their flaws and shortcomings, I hold so much of the good they taught me close to heart. But when I think of a man who was the whole package, I think of my grandfather John Lewis.
As far back as I can remember, it brought joy to our hearts to visit my granddad. His house in Seat Pleasant MD was big to us and he had a super big tiger striped cat that would lay in front of the door, making it hard to open, but we would push the door open slowly eager to get in and let the cat and hear him purr. We would all file in and go hug granddad and he would ask us how we were and how we were doing in school, and we’d smile, knowing that with our good grades came the reward of money. And after stuffing our money in our pockets and going to hug grandma, we’d speed walk outside to play in the yard.
Granddad had driven big rigs for Safeway for 25 plus years and took care of his children throughout their lives and continued to be present and gracious to all of his kid’s even as adults. My father was on drugs for a long time, but my grandfather always opened his door for his son, he always gave sound advice to him while giving him a few dollars because he knew my dad was broke. He would let my aunt stay over at his house when they had problems at their homes, whatever those problems were. One of my uncles lived in Texas and would come back home to DC every other year but if he missed a trip, my granddad would offer to pay for the tickets for their family to come up because he’d want to see them. I watched him be firm when he had to be and yet he wasn’t judgmental he was fair.
He even took me in when I was 15 and giving my mother a hard time. He took my brother in as well for the same reason. Eventually I would find myself in prison and granddad still wrote and sent money when he could. He was stern but he had a sense of humor, his home was a place of peace, a neutral ground for our family and at any given day, you were likely to see different kinfolk over there. He was just as attentive to the family member who was on drugs as we to a family member who was successful with their lives. He was just and fair. He was the best father I know and I’m always striving to make him proud. He has passed but he will always be present in the hearts and minds of those who knew and loved him. Happy Father’s Day to all fathers who striving daily to do and be better for those who love them and those they love and care for. You all matter.
Sincerely, Khalid Karim
REACTIONARY VIOLENCE IS COLONIAL VIOLENCE
On July 20, 1983, my son Mark Steven Lasenby was born to myself and his teenage mother, L. Lasenby. I was 16 yrs. old and in the Lake County Jail for Attempted Robbery and soon to be sentenced to 30 yrs. in prison; and she was a 19 yr. old, soon to be a single mother, that had just walked across the stage at West Side High School to receive her diploma while pregnant.
We would name him Mark Steven Lasenby and approximately six days later I would be sentenced to 30 yrs as a first offender and sent off to the so-called Dept. of Corrections. I was one of the many young New Afrikan/Black males that had been harvested out of the ghetto colony by one of Reagan/Bush policies of get tough on crime.
I would serve 15 yrs. of that sentence. During that whole period of captivity, my son and I were extremely close. His mom and I were high school sweetheart’s and although she would eventually move on to live her life, we remained close, and she never denied me access to my son. I would eventually give him the name Jela Simba Shakur.
Jela and I could pass for twins and even now ppl see old teenage pictures of him and immediately think that it is me.
He was also a young athlete that could both box and play basketball. When he was in the 8th grade, he was already being scouted by a top ten Indiana College that invited him on campus and given a full recruitment pkg. tour.
I can still remember how shocked and excited about all of the pretty college girls that was showering him with attention. We just couldn’t keep him on track or focused.
His mom would go on to have two more sons and three more daughters.
While Jela didn’t have a father in the house he had mentors and an extremely close relationship with his grandfather who tried to save him from the mean, harsh streets of Gary, Indiana and East Chicago, but he couldn’t compete with the housing projects of East Chicago and the local school system that recruited my son at an early age into the Vice Lord street org. and family. He was proud of this and loyal and impressed that as a 14, 15 yr. old he was being shown a lot of ‘love’ a ârespect’ by the O.G.’s and leadership. Once he learned that I was G.D., he didn’t know how to take it.
I use to quiz him about his org. and while trying to politicize him, he only knew the basics. As usual the old heads wasn’t lacing the youngsters up, they were just having them put in work. But I also think the organization provided him a family structure far as men and young black men that he didn’t have or felt wasn’t enough.
I would develop a close relationship with all of his siblings. What I did for one, I did for all. They use to wonder if I was their real dad.
When I came home in 2000 after a parole violation, Jela came to live with my wife Akili and I for a while. It was the first time he and I really had a chance to bond on the streets together.
It was a new experience. Although my wife had kids whom I grew to love and get close to, except for the baby girl, they were all just about grown. So us getting to know each other in a setting outside of a visiting room was both an exciting experience and a challenge.
Jela was a young black boy transitioning from boyhood into manhood as a 17 yr. old manchild trying to find his way. A young warrior who like solo many others had been dealt a bad or raw hand, growing into manhood w/out a father to guide or mentor him and forced into a role with my overwhelming responsibilities, prematurely.
Being raised by a single mom, being forced to assume the role of protector, provider and man of the house at an early age, while I myself was being forced to become a man and grow up fast while trapped behind enemy lines and fighting for survival. The ghetto and the streets is a right of passage for many of us, but so is the penitentiary.
Young black men coming into or being harvested into the Prison Industrial Complex as teens or twenty something’s, having or going through a form of unnatural arrested development.
I was a father, a dad, a pops before I even knew what that entailed as a Black man in Amerika.
As a young man I was still trying to discover who I was and what it fully meant to have a young son, while beginning a fresh 30 yr sentence.
What did it mean being in love with a young 19 yr. old womyn who had just given birth to your child and feeling like you had abandoned both; as behind the walls, you battle and bang with racist ass prison guards that is trying to crush your spirit and rob you of your sense of humanity..
Hood Violence Is a Result of Colonial Violence
Reactionary violence in poor communities, oppressed or neo – colonized communities is a result of Our relationship to the State/Govt.
It is a result of the unequal distribution of resources to Our communities, the economical deprivation and class exploitation within Our community where a colonial relationship masquerade as institutionalized racism.
Where from birth to death, you’re told or shown in life that your life has no value or self-worth. That you ain’t shit.
This messaging, this signaling, is often internalized. Internalized to the point, whereas the lack of mentors, the lack of knowledge of self and recognition of self-worth, has you full of self-hate and self-destructive tendencies.
This view of yourself is also projected onto those that you see in your image.
“You ain’t shit nigga”, ” Nigga I will kill you”,
“Black ass nigga you ain’t never gone be shit”, over and over.
Amerikan society has always devalued black life, both black manhood and womanhood as men were physically and emotionally castrated and as black womyn had their wombs violated and babies ripped from their bodies or secretly sterilized without their consent or knowledge.
As We swung from trees amongst the magnolias, burned alive in fiery pyres.
JELA- DEFINITION BORN WHILE HIS FATHER WAS IN PRISON
Jela was shot twice in the back with a shotgun as he tried to walk away from a fight with another teenager he thought was a friend and whom he had played basketball and video games with all day. Another 17 yr. old kid who took my son life and who through that very act, killed a significant portion of his own life, after having been sentenced to 55 yrs. for the crime of murder.
Two lives ruined and destroyed as the colonial state continues to dig deeper into Our collective soul and spiritual psyche.
A Vicious Cycle
L. Lasenby had six children, 3 boys and 3 girls, a black Brady Bunch without the class and the privilege of growing up in a white middle-class suburbia.
Five years after Jela was murdered, his youngest brother, baby brother, Joshua, who was only 14 yrs. old, who girlfriend was also expecting a baby, was shot in the back and killed while trying to squash a street beef between two rival groups. Shot in the back while hopping a fence. Running away from a grown ass ‘man’ that stepped out on the porch with an assault weapon and started shooting at a group of kids.
ike Jela, Joshua girlfriend would go on to give birth to a little girl, a daughter, that he never laid eyes on and like my granddaughter, will grow up never having known her father.
Fast forward several years and the last son, James, who left Gary to make a fresh start, only to be driving home from work and be hit and killed in a head on collision by a lady texting and driving that had swerved across the yellow line. I cannot make this ish up!
Imagine, just for a minute the psychological trauma and impact upon their mother, grandmother and sisters. Trauma, PTSD,
Crushed!
Imagine being in the SHU, Solitary Confinement and having to absorb all of this information.
There is no Red Cross or Red Crescent for Us.
No Peacekeepers, Cease Fires or Reparations for Us, which is why those of Us who are men and/or fathers got to step up to the plate with Our womyn and represent.
Remember while We might have allies, sympathizers or supporters; We are Our own liberators and responsible for Our own liberation and freedom.
Happy Father’s Day to those that have kids or have chosen to embrace all kids in Our community as Our own!
FREE THE LAND!!!
Shaka Shakur
A Fatherâs Love: A Reflection on Fatherâs Day
For many Father’s Days, my only connection with my father was a brief 15-minute call from the various jails and prisons I occupied across America. I was living a fast, reckless life, never considering anyone but myself. My father passed away from stage 4 pancreatic cancer on March 8th of this year. As I write this, I am still numb.
The hardest thing to reconcile at this moment is the decades I spent away from him. I could have had more hugs, more laughsâbut at that time in my life, my father wasnât as important as he is now that he is gone. I want to tell him I love him one more time. I want to see his smile as he responds, âI love you too.â I want to watch him grin at his puppy, balancing a treat on the dogâs nose while telling him to stayâproud, gentle, always present.
My father never wavered. He was always by my sideânever tired of me, never giving up on me. No matter how many times I stole his car, how many 3 AM bailouts, how many prison visits with my infant child, how many miles he traveledâhundreds, sometimes thousandsâhe was there. My dad.
He taught me everything about being a manâabout taking care of his wife, his children, his home, meticulously maintaining it with a quiet pride every day. His patience, his endurance, his unwavering presenceâno matter the circumstancesâwere the truest forms of love, the kind that doesnât falter. A fatherâs love is steadfast, enduring even through chaos, mistakes, and lessons learned along the way.
When I didnât know how to be a father to my own child, he was.
And now, he has traveled onâa tired old manâleaving me here to carry forward everything he taught me. I am a man now, a father myself, as Iâve finally decided to lay that restless boy to rest.
I leave you all with a humble appreciation for this moment to honor my fatherâto share what Iâve learned about fatherhood and the significance of this day. A father is different from a mother; you wonât always recognize his importance until much later in lifeâwhen youâve seen the pitfalls, the traps, and finally realize that his sternness, his seemingly detached nature, was always to protect you, to teach you strength, resilience, courage.
A father may not cry with you, but he will pick you up, dust you off, and tell you to try again. His love is just as powerful as a motherâsâquiet in its presence but immeasurable in its impact.
Fatherâs Day is a day I will forever hold supreme, now that I fully understand the greatness of my dad. Itâs a day to appreciate what a father does every other day of the year.
So please, for meâfor all of us who wish we had just one more chanceâgo hug your father if you can. Do it even if heâs a grizzly old man who doesnât hug back. Trust me, heâll appreciate it today. And tell him you love him, that youâre grateful for everything he tried to doâright or wrong.
If your father has been there for you, make sure he understands that you recognize it.
Written By: Thomas
I should have known. Now my mother explained to my daughter if she missed her school bus again. She would be walking & losing her electronics (cellphone tablet etc.) I know how my daughter thinks. So, I secretly told Lavina behind my mother back the truth about her grandmother following her to school. So, she wouldn’t take it upon herself to walk to school to avoid the consequences of losing her devices. My words & warnings did not sink in with her. She missed the bus again & without hesitation tried to walk to school on her own without letting her grandmother or any family member know. On her journey to school. Some unidentified man pulled over his car and offered my baby a ride to school. All the discussions we had about strangers & the dangers of this world did not comply to my daughter as she accepted the ride. Glory be to God that was only that man intention to take her to school because he had her. Once they reached the school and the camera seen my daughter getting out of an unknown vehicle, they immediately approached the car, but the stranger pulled off. So, they questioned my daughter & she told them the events of what happened. As my daughter was telling me this tragic & what could have been life changing story. My heart fell to my feet because I immediately blamed myself for not being there as I thought of all the unthinkable things that man could have done to my daughter, or the day before could have been the last time I talked to my baby.
The Bible says in Acts 2:38 & 39
“38 Then Peter said unto them, Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.
39 For the promise is unto you, and to your CHILDREN, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.”
I truly believe if I was in here gang banging, hating my enemy & doing things not of God. My daughter wouldn’t be here today.
So, I’m THANKFUL of being FAITHFUL and honoring my SAVIOUR because the promise is not only to me, but to my children as well.
My son Christen as I said before, is doing time with me as well. He’s being neglected of all the fatherly things I suppose to be there for and again I can only blame myself.
When my son was 16, he unexpectedly, but I should have known coming snapped on me. He told me he gone be a better man than me, a better father than me & whole bunch more hurtful words that he could think of to say to me. Before he ended what he felt he needed to say to me. He said by the way. I’ll be 18 in two more years & I don’t need a father anymore & tossed the phone to his sister. I was in pain because every word he spoke cut me like a knife. My daughter knew I was in pain because she heard everything her brother said to me. She asked me if I’m okay and I was honest & said no. Then I told her that she would be saying the same thing to me in a couple of years. She assured me she would never say things like to me. She also said she loves her brother & that I shouldn’t worry because a copy is never better than the original. She touched my heart with that trying to make me feel better & she did for that moment. My son words still stuck with me, and he wouldn’t talk to me no more period. I continued to call my daughter & talk with her knowing my son was there, not wanting to speak with me at all. I did the only thing I knew how to do in my situation. I prayed & prayed constantly. The Bible say in 1Thessalonians 5:17 to “Pray without ceasing”. It also says ” Faith without works is dead” so I wrote him a letter too.
(Letter to my son) Christen, your words still stick with me you stated. You are absolutely right. You will be better than me and you already are. You’re smarter, a better leader, a better son, more thoughtful and more respectful. Son you are a king, and you represent yourself as all them attributes I mentioned because that’s who I see in you and who you’ve shown me to be. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say to me, but I know that you’re angry with me, frustrated with me and you have the right to be angry and mad at me. I let you down, your sister down, your grandmother down and your mother. Son I am so sorry, and I know I’ve said that many times before, but it doesn’t take away your pain and how you feel and I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry that I’m not there for you at this critical time of your life. The thoughts that you have, whatever you’re thinking. Although I let you and your sister down, I will never give up on you or your sister. I’m proud that you had the courage to say what you said to me. It demonstrates your leadership, your determination and your desire to be better than me. I do ask that you make sure your sister has a different path too. Both of you are incredibly resilient and smart. I’m so proud that both of you are my children. I love you. I really do and forever.
Christen, I know people let you down. Especially those you looked up to. But know God will make sure you’ll have a better and beautiful future than what you have today. I support and believe in all of who you are and will be.
That letter didn’t hit home with my son at all. So, I continued to pray and stay faithful to God. Eventually my son apologized to me. The bible says in Malachi 4:6
” And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, And the heart of the children to their fathers,”
This is how I be a father to my children in prison by staying steadfast and faithful to God.
Happy Father’s Day to the present fathers out there with their children (chasing away their daughterâs first boyfriend and teaching their son how to drive his first vehicle) and to the fathers that can’t be present for circumstances as my own.
God Bless and may the promises of the Lord be with you and your children.
Written by: Aaron Kennedy