"Breathe and Stop" --- Q-Tip

An observation

by J.R. Riddick
Director of Operations, Hip-HopTV24/7.org Incorporated

A Sunny crisp Sunday. Fulton Street Mall. Brooklyn. Sneaker store reigns with activity. I see a young man with mom gazing at the dizzing array of dunks, ACG's, Timbz, and various labels waiting to be bought. The young man softly tells mom that he's done well in school for the semester and he deserves the $100 pair of silver Nikes. Before he can finish his argument, Mom yells at him at the top of her lungs that although she promised him those sneakers last week, she cannot buy the dream dunks now because of 1. dad's bail money was important and 2. the sneakers would make a smart kid like him look silly. Before the young man got a word out to respond, moms quickly snatches him out the store. Disappointment. The silver dream sneakers fall at my feet. . .

A Manic Monday. Kingston Avenue. North Crown Heights. A group of beautiful young women walk down the street in their Volleyball uniforms on their way to a game. They sing in unison the latest female empowerment anthem - Jennifer Hudson's "Spotlight". Some are on key, some are WAY off key. I troop past the athletes walking 20 deep on the sidewalk. Yes, the girls want attention from EVERYONE within a mile radius. The loudness is all too common in the hood between 2.30 and 4pm on Brooklyn streets. With every line, the young women become louder, bolder, shall I say, more empowered. At the corner of Kingston and Bergen, they are met with a group of older black women who give them a lecture about acting as proper young women in the street. Some of the girls are shocked, some ignore the protest, some keep on singing as if nothing happened. For sure, a noticeable change in their spirit waned as they laughed. They stopped singing. . .

A Tantrum Tuesday. Grocery day. I'm on line at the local supermarket in Fort Greene, Brooklyn and a young mother is fussing with a seven-year old boy who wants to eat a pack of cookies. The mother - tired and frustrated, shakes the young boy hard to get him to stop fussing at the cookies. The boy slams his head on the cold linoleum floor. A few of us checked to see if the boy is not injured. The mother spits in venom at the screaming boy for the next ten minutes on the checkout line about acting like a fool in public. The boy's in pain. Mom's in pain. I'm in pain for them. . .

Wild Wild West Wednesday. Peace sleep. My eyes are closed in bed when I hear the requisite gunshots in the wee hours of morning. This time it sounds awfully close. Sirens pop the cold air. The noise invades my home. I look outside to see a a young man lying face down in the street in front of my house in a pool of blood. Police, ambulance, bystanders, onlookers patchwork in front of my house for the latest bloodshed spectacle. Mom and brother see their son and brother lying in blood, friends howl in grief in the night air. Its a surreal scene as the twenty-year old black male body is picked up and removed and is quickly replaced by candles and beads. My sidewalk is a crime scene. I can't walk outside my home. The stories about another black male death by violence make me pause. Im aware of my mortality at 2am in the morning. . .

A Tired and Trying Thursday. My cell rings constantly during the day. Questions hit me like gunshots, rattling my body with the re-telling of what happened with the shooting but the questions change with the request of favors and things I dont have time for. Can I do?. . .Can you be a this/that/wherever place at this/that/whatever time?, Do you have X amount of dollars to lend? Are you going to the latest event? Did you make time for X, Y, and Z. By the end of the day, I said Yes to a million requests but can't remember one. I walk down the street in a daze coming home from work. I see two kids playing tag in the street. I am suddenly amazed to see how happy they are playing tag yards away from a crime scene . . .

Free Friday. I sit down and relax to watch TV to unwind after a stressful week. The news is ALL PANIC ALL DAY!. I turn from that crap to watch what's on GhettoVision - not just another point of view channel. Im bored and turn to watch Black World Live channel, where all possibilities are considered. Im upset now and I turn to Gritty Television to see where else can I keep it real? I fall asleep to keep myself from crying. . .

Sane Saturday. Crowded iron-horse. I'm on the A train going into the city to have lunch. A woman gets on a the Jay Street stop. She stands before me. I get her attention so she can have a seat. She tells me "You can stay seated, its okay, i'm not pregnant." I was puzzled. A group of teens sitting across from me laughed from the exchange. After the woman got off, they said to me, "That's what you get for being nice!"

I laughed deeply. Sometimes in life, you have to just breathe and stop. . .