Ringing of the Knell: Harry Belafonte

So it has come to be that another of our great icons has returned to the Spirit World.

March 1, 1927-April 25, 2023

Born in Harlem, New York the first-generation Jamaican American spent much of his early years in his ancestors' Caribbean. Being of a working-class family he embraced the importance of education and hard work, but due to a learning disability left secondary school for employment in odd jobs which did little to elevate him above poverty. As many young Caribbean-American men, Mr. Belafonte joined the United States Navy during World War II, perhaps in hopes of sailing the ocean blue towards adventure or, at least, gaining recognition and equal acceptance for his patriotism and valor in a nation hellbent on offering the opposite to those of his ilk. As it was, he found himself stationed just over the river in New Jersey as a loader of bombs and other ammunition onto ships bound for a deadly destination. His time in service did nothing for his lot in life so after being discharged and returned to civilian life, he also returned to menial employment.

While poor, Mr. Belafonte loved the arts, and in seeing Black New York actors hone their crafts onstage decided he could do the same. He took acting lessons but inadvertently first became a very successful calypso singer in the States and abroad- much to my own Bahamian, West Indies family's glee. He became known not only for his impeccable singing and acting skills, but his class, charm, intellect, handsomeness, and most important of all, his activism. Mr. Belafonte used his celebrity in staunch support of human rights the world over, thumbing his nose at racial barriers, and standing up against oppression however he could do so. During an interview he once stated, "My activism really started the day of my birth," and added "What attracted me to the arts was the fact that I saw theater as a social force, as a political force..."

Surely, many of us will honor our elder by Googling photographs of him, reading about his triumphs, and maybe even listening to his songs or watching some of his screen work. Just keep in mind: Harry Belafonte was primarily an activist- heavy on the act. It is not enough to simply remember him from time to time whenever it is fun or convenient. It is not enough to talk about him or share memes, GIFs, or trimmed interviews of him speaking truth to power. In order to keep Father Belafonte alive and his legacy long-lasting we must become him. We must stand, march, speak, fight as he did. Otherwise... what was it all for?

Resources and further reading:

Harry Belafonte, singer, actor and tireless activist, dies aged 96

A Deadly World War II Explosion Sparked Black Soldiers to Fight for Equal Treatment

Book: Half American: The Epic Story of African Americans Fighting World War II at Home and Abroad

The life, career and activism of legendary performer Harry Belafonte

Harry Belafonte Reflects on Life as a a Singer, Actor, and Activist

Two Clouds, Trinket of the People

One month from now will mark what would have been the thirty-first anniversary of my

son's birth; the anniversary of my induction into true motherhood. I have to say, I feel the anxiety mounting. Not for the reason many would believe. It being his "birthday" per se is of no conse-quence. We do not celebrate birthdays because we have nothing to do with our surviving form year to year, day to day, hour to hour. I know some would like to counter that statement, that Muriyd/Two Clouds did not celebrate his birthday, but it is true.

When he began being around people who practiced the ritual he would protest and tell them he was not interested in cake, singing nor all the rest, but they- being more concerned with what they wanted for him, and in fulfilling what they themselves desired- would ignore his requests and "surprise" him anyway. Realizing that his discomfort and appeals meant little to nothing, he gave up on protesting and just let them have their way. That does not, in my opinion, equate to celebrating.

Our familial ritual of rejoicing in The Giver's gift of time is by giving to creation through charity, and spending time in remembrance of The One Creator, Controller of All. I have never, in fifty years, celebrated a birthday, and I raised my children the same way. They have continued the tradition as adults, but when they are among associates who, as self-centered humans, cannot understand the concept of not following the crowd for the expressed sake of following or not feeling "left out", they are forced to dig in their heels and demand nicely, "Thanks, but NO". I find it ironic that it was Muriyd, who was around so many people who pride themselves on being diverse and accepting of all differences, that had the most problem with having his own preferences regarded, respected. But I digress...

Anxiety is building in me because I am sure people are thinking of ways to "honor" my son on his birth anniversary (I have already been made aware), and with that, I have a huge problem. Firstly, Muriyd would be horrified by such a gesture. We had many conversations in which he called me frustrated by people's putting him "on a pedestal" and frightened that he would have to answer for allowing it to happen on the Day of Judgement when we will all be called to account for our actions here on Earth. He knew that most people- particularly Natives and their allies in relation to him, but certainly not exclusively so- like holding onto objects, deities, and symbolisms that they do or don't understand as idolatry. He was hyper uncomfortable with being seen as something great, someone who others fawned over, or otherwise given credit that he attributed to The Creator alone. And it bothered him ever so much that there was virtually nothing he could do about it. Asking them to stop only led to more of the same as they thought he was so awesome for not wanting the attention. It was a Catch 22.

Secondly, I am disturbed because the idea of anyone (besides a tiny group of family and friends who are actively helping to pursue justice for my son's murder and/or continue his work) participating in any show of remembrance for Muriyd/Two Clouds yet has done zero all year long to help in arresting his murderer/s and conspirators nor honor his memory by assisting in pushing forth his mission, but has the audacity to create meaningless imagery meant to represent support that is inauthentic and ultimately, self-serving... infuriates and saddens me in equal measure.

Muriyd used to express his annoyance of those who were just around in order to be in proximity of real work yet offer little or no contribution. They enjoyed being able to say they knew or was a relative of Two Clouds, or that they had a real Indian friend that offered validity with their nature-loving, intellectually "evolved" friends. He would consider them, most often remaining gracious while offering stories and woodland strolls, teaching the history of his father's people. I know this not only from our lengthy routine conversations, but from the two dozen or more associates who have contacted me since his transition to tell me how much they love him and are here to help, but barely share a post, video, or hashtag to bring awareness to his murder. In fact, most are still not convinced that he was murdered at all, choosing to instead question if he committed suicide because "he was really upset about tribal stuff when we spoke the last time", or "Do you think the M.E. could have missed something??" since the coroner's findings from a thorough examination of my son's gutted organs does not gel with their musings, or "Are you sure?? Because he's such a nice guy. I think he's just really hurting." when told who the killer and main conspirator actually are- compliments of their own exposures.

The same people who will venture to march, leave an empty seat, read a poem, send up smoke, have a dinner, make desultory posts, gather on the land where he lived and was taken from his descendants and true loved ones to commemorate the day will not donate a book, help feed the poor, walk for education, help build a water well, or take action on his behalf in myriad ways. These are the things that matter, not the using of him- his life and death- to showcase how awesome someone is for coming out and "supporting" Two Clouds.

Two Clouds is not a trinket to set high up on a shelf only to dust off and acknowledge when it is convenient and fun for you to do so.

Two Clouds is not a sideshow.

Two Clouds' mother is not here to assuage anyone's guilt- or lack thereof- and stroke their mane to make them feel better about their lack of repayment for all the knowledge, friendship, and credibility he wilfully gave to them.

If the ways people want to remember him is no way in service to Muriyd/Two Clouds, it is only in service to themselves. Which means their"love" is false and pompous, at best.

Truly honoring him will reveal itself in actions. If anyone is unclear on viable ways to remember him here are some ideas to get you started.

Otherwise, the family and close friends of Muriyd Abdullah Muhammad Williams (Niishwak Akumahkwak which is interpreted as Two Clouds) does not condone nor support or wish good for any somber "shows" towards our son/brother/cousin/nephew/friend.

They are for your egos alone.

M.

Iconic Photo: American Gothic

This photo was taken in 1942 by world renowned photographer/writer/musician/filmmaker

Gordon Parks. It was originally titled Washington DC Charwoman but later became known as

American Gothic after Grant Woods’ painting by the same name. Though considered by many to be Mr. Parks’ most famous photo, the snapshot was taken on a whim. He was an observer of Black American life, documenting the joys and tribulations of his people, and would soon become a freelance photographer for Glamour and Ebony magazines then a staff photographer for Life by doing so. His photojournalism would help push the burgeoning Civil Rights movement for which he was a huge advocate and participant.

He was in Washington DC to do work for an insurance company. He moved about studying

the community and was stunned by what he learned. There on the border of Southern racism and segregation he was confronted by Jim Crow laws. He was denied entrance into a theater, refused service in a restaurant, and turned away from a department store where he attempted to purchase a winter coat to brave the harsh January cold. He retreated back to the company building where he met the subject for this piece.

Ella Watson was a grandmother working as a housekeeper cleaning offices. She told Parks

her life story, how she had no high school diploma, had been widowed at a young age, and was then financially supporting her grandchildren. She permitted the photograph, following his directions to stand in front of a large hanging American flag with broom in one hand and mop in the other. She then gave him access into her world which led to a poignant photo essay.

Resources:

Ella Watson: The Empowered Woman of Gordon Parks's 'American Gothic'

The American gothic of Gordon Parks