Letters to God 4

Hello God,

All right, I have a question for you. Is it wrong for me to assume a black male, between the ages of twenty-five and thirty, who is wearing a watch and a necklace permeated with diamonds, wearing a white T-shirt and baggy pants, driving a Rolls Royce Phantom with twenty-four inch rims, that he is either a rapper, drug dealer, or an athlete? Better question, is it wrong for me to become angry with a group of white people for feeling the same way I do? God, he could have easily been a high profile attorney who was hungry on his day off from work right? That makes perfect sense. Oh hell, let me stop fooling myself, that nigga was a rapper, drug dealer or an athlete.

OK, let me explain why I asked the question. The other day I went to McDonald’s to get a bite to eat. I parked right next to this beautiful Rolls Royce Phantom. It was gorgeous. As I entered the restaurant, I saw a family of white people and a young black man waiting in line to place their orders. As I got in line to order, I could overhear the white family’s conversation; they were talking about the Phantom. I heard one of the children say, “ Dad, it’s beautiful, do you know how much it costs?” The father responded, “ I’m not sure, maybe about $400,000”. Based on their conversation, I could clearly see that the car did not belong to them. The only other customer in the restaurant, besides myself, was the young black man at the register. He was kind of husky and was wearing enough diamonds to blind a blind man. He had to be the owner of the car. The first thing that came to my mind was “This guy is either a rapper, drug dealer, or an athlete.” I felt bad for thinking that way but I knew it was true. After the man got his food, he exited the restaurant, got in the Phantom and drove off.

As he left the restaurant, I clearly overheard the father of the family say, “I think he is a football player”. One of the children responded, “No, I think he is a rapper”. I couldn’t believe what the hell I was hearing. I thought to myself “You racist assholes! How can you just assume he is a football player or a rapper? If he was a white man, you wouldn’t assume that shit”. But then I realized that I was just as guilty as they were since that was my assumption the minute I laid my eyes on him. Now God, that’s why I am writing you today; is it wrong to make an assumption about a person based on how they look or how they act?

God, in this country, everyone acts and looks a certain way based on where they are from and who they are. God, I’m from the hood and I grew up a certain way. My family is loud as hell; we cannot have a normal conversation. We like to act goofy all the time. Some would label us as “ghetto”. Ghetto is usually used to describe how a person looks, acts, or lives as it relates to poor black neighborhoods. For example, if a person wore a stocking cap on their head while wearing a baggy white T-shirt and jeans, this person would be considered “ghetto”. Also, if a person drove a 1987 Ford Pinto with twenty-inch rims, this person and car would be considered “ghetto”. Last, but not least, if a group of individuals were being extremely loud in public, this would also be considered “ghetto”. These examples are usually bestowed upon black people and have a negative connotation behind them. I guess it must be wrong to dress the way you would like to, accessorize your car the way you would like to, and to express yourself in the way you would like.

It’s funny God, because the people who use this term the most are “black” people. One black person will tell another black person, “Why are you so ghetto? Do you have to be ghetto all the time?” What the hell does that mean, God? I guess it means “Why are you so black? Do you have to be black all the time?” Well, hell yea, I have to be black all-the-time. Dammit! Now, this same black person will respond by saying “Being black is not being loud all the time, or acting a fool in public, or wearing a stocking cap on your head.” That same black person cannot give a clear definition of what being “black” truly is? Why? It is because the black individual in this country has no true culture. Everything about us only goes back 400 years. We don’t have a true history. We don’t have our own language, our own culture—we don’t even have our own food.

Blacks in this country started with nothing and did the best we could. Blacks are a passionate people. We put our soul into everything we do—that is something innate that some try to suppress by labeling it “ghetto”. The bad thing about it is that native Africans don’t teach us about our culture when they move to this country. They also label American blacks as ghetto, or lazy, or ignorant. I can’t stand bougey ass, white talking blacks that try to be white and those marathon-running fools who come this country. The only people they care about are themselves. It just makes me so upset that they don’t know shit about me, but have the nerve to label me as ghetto. Oh my bad God, I guess I also make assumptions about people that could be incorrect. I guess that’s not fair to do since you really can’t know too much about a person based on how they look and what they do.

Sincerely,

Robert Harwin

P.S. Please respond soon because there are four big black dudes with hoodies on walking this way.

Letters to God 3

Hello Mr. God,

I stay fly, no lie, and you know it…BAAAAAAALIN!!!. God, Take that, take that, take that, take that, take that. Just kidding. What’s up God? It’s your boy Robert again. I know you’re wondering what ballin is, right? I don’t truly know the exact definition, but I can give you some examples. A person is probably ballin if they have lots of money. I don’t mean your average rich guy, but the individual who has so much money that they don’t know what to do with it—these people are usually awarded the title of a “Baller.” Ballers include people like rappers, singers, doctors, lawyers, engineers, etc. These individuals make some serious cheese, God; they got it made. All my life I have been told that if I work hard and make lots of money, I can have the good life—a happy life.

The reason for me writing you today is because I don’t truly know that I am happy. God, I have a good job and I make a decent living, but I’m certainly not ballin. I own a house, drive a nice car, and I have a little extra money to spend but I’m not sure if I am happy. God, what the hell is happiness anyways? I actually decided to look the word up in the dictionary. Happiness is defined as a state of well-being or contentment. That definition really didn’t help me so I decided to look up the word contentment; contentment is defined as to limit oneself in requirements or actions. Wow, I thought that was very interesting so decided to look up the word limit. A limit is something that restrains or confines; a boundary. Now God, I could have looked up words indefinitely, but I got tired and didn’t feel like looking up any more words.

What do you think God? I guess those definitions must have some validity to them. God, am I limiting myself by settling for happiness? Am I putting boundaries in my life, which are preventing me from doing better things besides making money? I work very hard to make the amount of money I earn, but I have to put up with a lot of bullshit in order to do it. For example, my boss asked me if I wanted to go surfing with him and some coworkers the other day and I politely said no. He responded by saying “Come on Bob, be a team player and come surfing with us”. I wanted to say “For starters, my name aint Bob, its Robert bitch. And second, I don’t want to go surfing with you guys. What sane black man wants to put his ass on a board in the middle of the ocean so some shark can make a two-piece dinner out of him”? Instead, I went and damn near drowned. I had to go God. I didn’t attend four of the last events that I was invited to and this new “kiss ass” employee had become attached to my boss’ ass. I just didn’t want to lose my promotion, but unfortunately Mr. “Kiss Ass” got the promotion over me anyways.

God I was devastated; I didn’t get my promotion, I had succumbed to my boss’ demands, and I damn near lost a lung in the process. God, I want to do more with my life but I have to survive right? And I need money to do it. Survival is the name of the game down here —particularly for the misplaced natives of African. Blacks have been surviving since they boarded those infamous ships that landed on the coast of West Africa nearly 400 years ago. They were placed with individuals of the same color, but who spoke different languages. They had to survive months of seasickness, illness, starvation, filth, raping, and murder. They arrived in a foreign land only to be separated from their families and placed in “involuntary servitude”, which is just a fancy way of saying slavery. I don’t need to continue because you know the rest of the story.

Now God, I have never been a slave and I have not even been on a ship before, so I am not comparing my life to that of a slave, but I do think the black slave was a happier person than us blacks today. Is that crazy to say? God, do you think I lost it with that last statement? The reason I feel this way is because the black slave wanted something better than what he or she had at that time. I know there were slaves who were comfortable with their condition, but I truly think that most wanted something different. The proof is in the pudding. Slaves fought, killed, and died for their freedom. Some were even willing and some did leave America to go back to the continent of their origin even though they had no recollection of ever being there. Even after the slaves were released from captivity, they fought to be considered human; and they fought for rights guaranteed to all American citizens.

It seems to me that us blacks today are content with our present conditions. I think this started with the ending of segregation. During segregation, all blacks lived and functioned together. On one block, you would have a lawyer who lived next to a janitor, who lived next to a doctor, who lived next to a garbage man, who lived next to a thief, etc, etc, etc. The son of garbage man was able to see four black men all doing different jobs and was able to choose his future accordingly. When segregation ended, that same lawyer and doctor bounced like a bad check; they moved as close to the white man as possible and left the garbage man and the thief back in the neighborhood. As time went on, more and more lawyers and doctors moved out of the neighborhood and the number of thieves grew. Now, the son of the garbage man did not have too many choices to choose from and usually chose the life of a thief. He did this because he did not believe that he could live next to the white man working as a garbage man—I guess a garbage man wasn’t BAAAAAAALLLIN enough.

Now God, I know I’m just as guilty as the lawyer and the doctor. I went to a predominately black high school, but I graduated and attended a predominately white university. I just wanted to get a really good education and I didn’t feel that a black school could offer me that. In addition, as soon as I graduated, I moved up out of the hood to a predominately white suburban part of town. Shit, God, but I was tired of dodging bullets, having my shit stolen, and dealing with stupid ass niggas. Am I wrong for wanting better for myself? I worked hard to get where I am at and I was tired of niggas. Every time you try to have something nice, here come niggas to mess it up

How long are blacks going to use slavery as excuse for their behavior, God? Everyone has the ability to change his or her life for the better. I mean, how long will we continue to function in survival mode? God, I don’t know how blacks can settle for living in the hood. Don’t they want to be happy? Oh, my bad, that’s why I was writing you in the first place. I did everything that I was supposed to do and I’m not happy. Now I truly don’t know what being happy is. Is it striving for your best while suffering along the way, or is accepting life the way it is and being content with it?

Sincerely,

Robert Harwin

P.S. Please respond soon because my boss wants me to go to a Bar Mitzvah. God, what is a Bar Mitzvah?

Letters to God 2

Hello Mr. God,

What it do baby? It’s your boy Robert again. How are things up there? How’s your Old Lady? Wait! Do you have an Old Lady? I hope not because they are a driving me crazy down here on Earth. God, you broke the mold when you made woman—especially when you made the Black woman. A black woman’s elegance and grace is beyond comparison—their eyes, their smile, their legs, and their hips are a sight to see. But God, these bitches got me going crazy down here. Oh snap, I have to stop calling these hoes bitches. Oh crap, I did it again. My bad, son. I guess I’m not supposed to call women hoes and bitches but that’s what most of my friends call them so I don’t see the big deal.

The reason for me writing you today is because I am ardently in love with women; I can’t get enough of them. Why is this God? Maybe it’s biological—it must be since us men would rather watch the game then listen to the superfluous information that oozes from their lips. God, I don’t currently have a girlfriend but a do date quite frequently. I have dated many different women: tall ones, short ones, thick ones, skinny ones, funny ones, boring ones; you name it and I’ve probably dated it. God, do you think that I have a problem since I cannot commit to a monogamous relationship? OK, I’ll stop lying to you since you know everything. I kinda have a girlfriend right now—OK, OK, OK I do have a girlfriend right now. I said it. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!!!

The reason why I lied earlier about not having a girlfriend is because I date other people while I am with her. I mean, I’m not married or anything so what’s the big deal God? I tried to be faithful, but being with one woman is difficult for me. God, I tried. I really, really, tried to be faithful, but things have changed since I have been in this relationship. In the beginning, everything was great, and I thought she was the best thing since sliced bread. As time went on, everything changed and our relationship suffered. I can’t believe that I’m about to admit this but she didn’t make me feel like a man anymore. Does that sound gay to you because it seems really gay to me?

Nothing made me feel better than knowing the fact that she couldn’t function without me. I think that she truly idolized me. I guess that made me feel like a man. Now, everything is different. It seems like she doesn’t even need me anymore. She is always running to her stank-ass girlfriends who couldn’t get or keep a man if they tried. My bad God, I am sounding kinda punkish right now. But God, what makes a man a man?

I began to cheat on my girlfriend because those girls would make me feel like a man for the time that I was with them. They actually showed interest in me again. They actually wanted ME God. I didn’t have to trick them into having sex—they actually wanted to. Oh snap, you weren’t supposed to know that I was having sex before marriage. Oh hell, you already know. I guess sleeping with different women made me feel more like a man. Oh yeah God, what makes a man a man?

Is a man defined by what he looks like? Or, is a man defined by what he does? Do I need to be feared in order to be a man, or do I need to be loved. Is a man defined by how big or how small his penis is? God I’m so confused. Wait, women know what defines a man. They are always insisting that they need a real man and they will know him when they find him. Maybe being popular defines a man because all the women at my college always went after those popular fraternity guys and those dumb athletes. Those same women at my college never gave your average Joe like me the time of day. I was smart and had a very good grade point average, but women never noticed me. Maybe having lots of money defines a man because women usually flock like sheep when they spot a man with money.

I don’t know what defines a man, but I do know that it is hard being one—especially a black one. The black man is feared in American. Everyday that I go to work I feel less and less like a man. For starters, I have to be very careful about what I say or do. I am always under the watchful eye of the overseer—I mean boss—and everything that I do is magnified. Usually, it’s just based on the fact that I’m the only black male in the office. God, it reminds me of my college days. I took a class my sophomore year that had nearly 200 students in it. People would be absent all the time and no one would even notice. I missed one day of class and the next day it seemed like everyone asked me why I didn’t attend class the previous day—even my damn professor. Aint that ‘bout a bitch. It just seems to me that everyone in this country is mindful of the black man.

Even the black man is mindful of the black man. God we have this thing called “being hard”. Being hard is basically showing little emotion—if any—while making others feel inferior to you in anyway you can. We tend to idolize individuals who are hard. These individuals usually include gang members, dope dealers, pimps, and others. They acquire their reputations by displaying their physical power over weaker individuals. Is this what a man is God? Do I need to make others feel inferior to me in order to feel like a man? I’m not sure because individuals in gangs acquire their power based on sheer numbers. Dope dealers acquire their power based on the physical and psychological affects their products have on people. And pimps usually acquire their power by preying on individuals who have been physically and psychologically abused. Check this out God, gang members, dope dealers and pimps are some of the most popular music stars of today—go figure.

I don’t know God, is this all just a product of my ego? Do I do things to satiate my ego? Please let me know.

Sincerely,

Robert Harwin

P.S.

Thank you for listening to me. I truly appreciate—oh snap, that girl got a fat booty. God, I’ll talk to you later. Holla!!!

Letters to God 1

Hello Mr. God,

What’s the damn deal son? I’m sorry; I’m not allowed to use that type of language when I am speaking to you, right? How are you? I hope all is well up there. Tell Biggie and 2Pac I said “What up niggas.” Is it ok for me to say nigga? I mean, it’s not a curse word. By the way, what is a curse word? I'll get back to that later. The reason for me writing you today is because it’s time for me to choose my religion. I knew this day was coming but I did not realize how soon this day would arrive.

Before I begin, maybe I should tell you a little about myself. I am a twenty-five year old black male from Los Angeles, Ca—Westside!!! I was born in Compton, Ca at Dominguez Hills Hospital. I’m straight from the hood but I have lived in very nice areas as well. Today is my twenty-fifth birthday and I have decided to choose my religion. I know that this is a very big decision so I decided to write you for some advice on which one to choose.

I live in America God, and this country is the land of Christianity. I mean it is everywhere. Their leader is this dude named Jesus; they say that he died on some cross for our sins about two thousand years ago. They say that if you accept him as your lord and savior you will live forever in Heaven. According to these Christians, this dude was off the chain God. He healed the sick, raised people from the dead, walked on water, turned water into wine, and was man and god all at the same time. He even has this book written about him called the Bible, however, the first part of the book doesn’t really talk about him.

I mean this Christian religion is everywhere in this country and they love this Jesus guy. Families have pictures of him in their homes—this Jesus guy must be off the chain because I have seen him pictured as a white man, black man and a Hispanic man. One of the more popular fashions in this country is to wear a necklace with a small statue of him hanging from it. Oh snap, I forgot, “WWJD”. What is that you ask? God, it means “What Would Jesus Do” Its one their biggest catch phrases. Apparently, if you are about to do something you should ask yourself “What Would Jesus Do”. Tight huh? I thought so too.

God, I am really liking this Christian religion but it’s really confusing. First off, they have two main divisions: Catholics and Protestants. I don’t know too much about the Catholics but I do know that their leader is called a Pope. He wears this big hat—between you and me God, I think they need to rethink that hat thing because I think it’s going to hurt him. Supposedly, the Catholic Church is a direct descendent of one of Jesus’ homeboys named Paul. I think that’s what happened but I could be wrong.

Next, you have the Protestants. God, these guys thought the Catholics were crazy with all their rules and decided to worship your man Jesus under their own terms. They also have many different names: Baptist, Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, and others. God, this is where you come in. I was crunk about these Christian guys until I heard how some of them used Christianity to justify enslaving the African in America. Isn’t that crazy! Tell me about it. I couldn’t believe it either. Basically, these guys told the African slaves that they shouldn’t worry about slavery because Jesus would provide a better life for them in heaven. This led to approximately 300 years of African enslavement in American.

Now God, I’m not stupid, I know that this Jesus guy wasn’t the only way slavery was justified and continued, but it was a big part. Today, these former slaves continue to join the same religion that helped to enslave them nearly 300 years ago. As a black man I find that disturbing. God, I have been told that Africans were worshiping Jesus long before they came to America, but I also know that they were members of other religions long before this Jesus guy hit the scene. There are more things that I can talk about concerning Christianity but I don’t know them all and I need to move on to my next religion.

Next up God is Islam. Now what do I know about Islam? Well, the followers of Islam are called Muslims. Their leader or Jesus-like person is called Muhammad. I don’t think they worship him like the Christians worship Jesus. Now, the crazy thing about Islam is that I think it’s like a cousin religion to Christianity. Supposedly, this guy named Abraham was tight with God. So, I guess he was tight with you or the other you--whatever the case may be he had these two sons. One named Ishmael and the other Isaac. The story goes that Islam was derived from the lineage of Ishmael and Christianity was derived from the lineage of Isaac. Crazy huh? So I think they worship the same god, but Muslims call him Allah. Anyways, back to my story.

Islam is cool. They have a holy city in the Middle East called Mecca. I think that all Muslims who are capable are required to a make a trip there at least once in their lives. Islam also has a book that talks about their religion like the Christians but it’s called the Koran. It’s a pretty big book and some people know the book verbatim. They believe that that Jesus was a prophet but not God how the Christians believed he was. In the Islamic faith, they have these pillars that are the foundation of their religion. Now, I don’t know them all but I heard that they are like the heart and soul of the religion.

How about Islam God? I don’t know because I don’t know much about it and it’s not a popular religion here in America. In addition God, our country has been beefing with countries that are predominately Islamic. This is really hard for me to decide because I wouldn’t want to be attacked because of my religion here in my home country. Also, like the Christians, there are two main divisions: Sunnis and Shiites. I don’t really know their differences. I wish I knew more about Islam but I have to move on to my next religion.

Judaism, supposedly, this is God’s original people. God, I just thought about something, I have a lot of religions to evaluate. I haven’t evaluated Buddhism, Hinduism, and the countless other religions in the world past and present. God what should I do? Maybe, I should just be a Christian. Most people that I know are Christians and the Jesus dude is pretty cool. Maybe I should just be different and be down with your homeboy Muhammad and Allah. I don’t know God. You’re the omniscient one. I just want something better after I leave this hellhole. Oh yea, I’m not supposed to use those words. Why not? Who is this committee who decided that certain words are “bad” or “cursed”.

I'm sorry God, but this is some bullshit. This decision shouldn’t be this damn hard. You created me and everything else in this earth: love, hate, sin, life and death. What if my crazy ass chooses the wrong one and I still go to hell? That would be some shit. I’m just so tired of people and their religions. They try to make me feel bad for not attending their churches but they have never even questioned why they attend those churches. I guess its tradition. What the hell is tradition anyways? I guess one fool decided to do something and a bunch of fools decided to follow him. God, I’m sorry that I am becoming emotional but life is a bitch and then you die.

Sincerely,

Robert Harwin

P.S.

Please respond soon because there are some people knocking on my door who call themselves “Jehovah’s Witnesses”.