WHITE SUPREMACY-2 BY MARVIN X

The Pan African Mental Health Peer Group
to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy Type II
Meets tonight, Friday, July 29, 7pm,
at 1222 Dwight Way, Berkeley, off San Pablo. You are invited.

Fable of the Rooster and the Hen

Fable of the Rooster and the Hen


There was a farm that had many chickens and roosters. One rooster used to control his many hens with an iron fist and he made the sound of the rooster to let everyone know not to mess with his hens. He roared and cockadoodled early in the morning to signal dawn of the new day.

And he cockadoodled throughout the day, strutting around the yard with his hens well under control, standing guard when they were laying eggs, especially when he found the door of the big house open and one of his favorites would lay her eggs on the couch in the living room of the big house.


The rooster would not go inside but stand in the doorway so he could watch both ways, inside the house and outside. If the farm lady would not come into the house and chase the hen outside, the hen would stay until she laid her egg, then she and the rooster would go down the steps and back into the yard, joining the other roosters, hens and baby chicks.


There were other fowl on the farm too: turkeys, ducks, guineas, peacocks, doves, and pigeons.
One day, after the farm lady got some special feed from the store and tried a little out on the rooster, he no longer could make the sound of the rooster.

The other fowl were surprised when they heard rooster sounding like a hen and no longer making the sound of the mighty rooster. They all laughed at the rooster and thought he had gone crazy. What the hell is wrong with you, rooster, they asked. They figured maybe the farm lady had given him some special food to make him sound different.

They were happy she didn't give them the feed she gave the poor rooster, who looked so pitiful and sounded even worse.

They knew something had changed him and he started not only sounding like a hen but acting like one as well. He made every attempt to act like he was laying eggs, although he wasn't able to lay any, still he put on a show for everyone on the farm who gathered around to see him play the role of a hen.

Other rooster's would even stand guard while he pretended to lay eggs, though he couldn't, it was just an act and they went along with it just to please him.


He no longer strutted about like a rooster but like a hen. They called him a freak and made fun of him until he couldn't take it anymore and asked the farm lady to give him some better food so he could sound and act like a rooster again.

She honored his request, telling him she was trying out some new feed and didn't think it would completely alter his behavior, she told him she was sorry, and she would never give him that feed and special water again.

The feed store had told her to try it out, but she would not bring anymore to the farm. The rooster was happy to return to his true self and make the sound of a rooster. The hens gathered around him again and the other fowl danced they were so happy to see he was a rooster again and not a hen.

--Marvin X
3/5/10

How to Recover from the Addiction to White Supremacy: Step One

Step 1


We admit we are not powerless over self hatred, racism and white supremacy thinking, but our lives have become unmanageable, partly because we live in denial and fear. Fear is the residue of slavery, the torture, rape, murder, the mores of submission and passivity whipped into our ancestors and elders and transmitted through DNA to the present generation who live in fear of white authority, especially the police who are the modern day slave catchers. But fear remains as the single most element that prolongs white supremacy. We fear each other, we fear success, we fear to do for self or to attempt self sufficiency on the economic level—for how shall we live without a paycheck from the white man, how shall we make it?

We fear associating with a black radical brother or sister, after all, the white man is watching us always, he has spies tracking our every move, we are certain of it, thus we cannot go to a black business, a conscious happening for fear of being reported. We fear the woman and man we love, for surely they will betray us, it is only a matter of time, they are going to cross us, so we cannot trust them ever, no matter how much they say they love us and no matter how much we love them. We cannot unite with the brotherhood because we fear something is surely to go wrong, money will be stolen, our wife or girlfriend will run off with another brother. Thus the drama of fear is constant. Each time we leave the house we fear not making it back home alive, for we live in a war zone and if the police don’t catch us riding dirty, another brother will try to take us out for some ignorant reason, something petty, maybe a twenty dollar dope or gambling debt. We must detox and recover from fear. The only thing to fear is fear itself. Release the fear because it has made our lives unmanageable.


If truth be told, we are not powerless over anything, but have the power within ourselves to overcome any force in the universe that is not in harmony with the Higher Power without and within ourselves. We are only powerless when we deny who we are and do not recognize we exist in harmony with the universal spirit of peace, justice and mercy. White supremacy is an illusion in the minds of those who believe it and those who accept the scam. Nothing has power over you except when you allow it to have such power. Thus, we should not blame the president, congress, corporations or any other institutions because it is we who allow them to carry on business, and if we did not give them the power they would disappear overnight like a bad dream, but we support white supremacy by supporting its institutions, working its jobs, buying its goods, attending its houses of worship, then get angry because we feel useless, helpless, depressed, confused, etc. Yet we have allowed ourselves to be deceived, used and abused, for we have given power to those who despitefully use and abuse us. What can the wicked husband do to the good wife that she doesn’t allow him to do? She has the power to separate and divorce him. She has the power to flee in the night. Should we then blame the wicked husband or blame her for allowing wickedness to consume her life? Thus, the problem with you is not white supremacy, the problem with you is you! You continue buying a bogus bag of goods and then when you get home you wonder why the food in the bag is no good, rotten fruit fit for the garbage can.

So yes, we need to admit our lives are unmanageable, but only because we refuse to exercise the God given power to manage ourselves, but allow other forces to take over our existence: we become slaves to racism because of our refusal to stand up and face it toe to toe. We have forgotten the faith of our ancestors who were determined to be free by any means necessary. We accept injustice on the job, at the church, in the home because we are cowardly beings not worthy of the name human and certainly not of the name divine, though that is our essence, divinity. After all the blood we shed in Africa, the Caribbean and the Americas, why are we yet today victims of white supremacy exploitation, pimped downtown and uptown by blood sucking merchants who refuse to employ us, yet we are the reason for their existence. If we boycotted them one week they would be out of business, yet we want to blame them for exploiting us, no, blame ourselves, and thank them for teaching us a valuable lesson: don’t allow ourselves to be pimped, yes, refuse to be nappy headed hos. Refusing to be called a ho is one matter, but to act like a nappy headed ho is quite another. Don’t say you are against white supremacy when you buy the goods of white supremacy. No matter how high gas prices get, you have no intention to protest, but you will kill your brother if he jumps in front of you in the gas station line, yet you won’t protest or boycott Shell, Exxon, and Mobile when they report their multi billion dollar quarterly earnings. So you are either ignorant or simply in denial that you support white supremacy, just as you are constantly reacting to white supremacy police when they kill a brother in the hood, but while brothers are killing each other nightly in the hood with guns and bullets bought from white supremacy gun sellers, you don’t protest. You refuse to organize peace patrols in your community, but are satisfied to attend funeral after funeral of neighborhood children, even your own sons and daughters. Come out of your slumber, come out of your sloth, you can and must manage your existence, you can and must erase white supremacy thinking from your heart and mind. Go somewhere and sit down to think seriously how you can configure a beautiful life for yourself and your family. Think about resisting the devil so he will flee from you. Think about putting on the armor of God or your Higher Power under whatever name.

Fable of the Horse, Cow and Bull

Fable of the Horse, Bull and Cow


There was a man who lived in the city. He loved the city but he was born in the country, so his heart yearned for the country. He knew how to make his way in the city, but it became a place to be nobody, so he wanted to move back to the country. The city was full of murder, drugs, hate and other strife of urban life. He had lost friends to murder, drugs and other problems. He fell to drugs himself but was able to recover.

Thankful for his recovery, he wanted to escape back to the country. He loved the quiet and peacefulness of the country. The land, bees, lizards rushing about harming no, woody the peckerwood--pecking on trees as if he had a hammer, the squirrel with the long tail going up trees with nuts, wild turkeys feeding on leftover from the horse and cow feed.

Ye yearned for the country where he could write, think and praise his God. The angel came to provide him with space for his needs. The angel told him just feed the animals, don't worry about anything else. And so he did.

Each day he would get up and ready himself to feed the animals. Actually, the animals, the horses, cows and a bull could see him through his bedroom window. Around feeding time they would be on post watching him moving about.

The animals would have a sad look on their faces as if they were starving to death. They were running drag because they knew he could see them too. The bull would stand still at 12 o'clock, at attention to show his seriousness. "You see me, you see us, so you better bring yo ass out that house if you know what's good for you," the bull said. "I got two horns faya ass if you don't rush it!"

The horses would hang near the gate, knowing he must come there with the hay, but especially with the oats that they loved. "So why is he playing around?" they asked each other. "Don't he know we will kick his ass if he don't hurry up with our food? And he better come with some oats, to hell with that damn hay. He can give that hay to the cows and bull, we don't want hay, although we will eat it, but he knows we want the oats, so why is he stalling, playing power politics with us like he's God Almighty?"

The man observed the animals outside his window watching his every move, especially the sound of his voice as he talked on the phone. He talked so loudly, they could hear every word. They wished he would get his ass off the cell phone and bring their food.

The man dressed, putting on his straw Stetson that was torn from city life. He put a scarf across his nose because he was allergic to hay but enjoyed feeding the animals, so he suffered sneezing.
He walked down to the storage shed and filled two bags with hay and a small bag of oats.

As he walked toward the animals, they saw him coming and began to dance, prance and moved toward the gate, all of them, the bull, cows and horses. The horses were right at the gate, making sure they were first in line to be fed, next to them was the bull, then the cows since they were actually calves and had no seniority, although the bull wasn't much older, except he had two horns if there was a need to prove he was indeed the bull!

He opened the gate, barely able to get inside since the horses were hogging the entrance, but he pushed his way inside and began giving out the hay, holding back the oats because he knew the power of oaks, especially in the world of horses. They loved oats like a nigguh loves pork chops!

Since the horses knew he had oats, they played the waiting game, munching on the hay along with the cows and bull, but their eyes were on him, watching his every move, waiting until he brought forth the treasured oats, which he eventually did and the horses mobbed him at the gate, aggressively going for the bucket in his hand which he drew away least they snatch it from him and gobble the treasured oats.

He put a handful in one horse's mouth, then the other. He spread oats on the hay for the cows and bull, for the cows and bull loved oats too, but not like the horses--oats was dope to them, for the cows it was simply a pleasure, an extra at morning meal. But with the horses it was no joke, but a necessity since it was available.

They gobbled each handful he presented, following him as he moved in any direction, actually blocking him from getting to the cows and bull. When he would get to the cows and bull and pour the oats atop their hay, the horses would push the cows and bull aside and gobble the oats.

Looking pitiful, the cows and bull would submit, even though the bull had horns to demand respect from the horses. He did not challenge the horses, but instead sought out another pile of hay away from the greedy horses.

The man did not leave because he knew if he did, the horse would devour all the hay after they finished following him around with the oats. After giving out the oats, the man stood watching the animals, wondering if their behavior was any better or worse than that of the Negroes he'd left in the city. He thought maybe he should return to do battle with them for their upliftment, no matter the price.

But he decided to stay in the country for the moment, even though the city women were calling him and he was calling them.
--Marvin X

from the Wisdom of Plato Negro, Parables and Fables, by Marvin X.

Fable of the Horse, Cow and Bull

Fable of the Horse, Bull and Cow


There was a man who lived in the city. He loved the city but he was born in the country, so his heart yearned for the country. He knew how to make his way in the city, but it became a place to be nobody, so he wanted to move back to the country. The city was full of murder, drugs, hate and other strife of urban life. He had lost friends to murder, drugs and other problems. He fell to drugs himself but was able to recover.

Thankful for his recovery, he wanted to escape back to the country. He loved the quiet and peacefulness of the country. The land, bees, lizards rushing about harming no, woody the peckerwood--pecking on trees as if he had a hammer, the squirrel with the long tail going up trees with nuts, wild turkeys feeding on leftover from the horse and cow feed.

Ye yearned for the country where he could write, think and praise his God. The angel came to provide him with space for his needs. The angel told him just feed the animals, don't worry about anything else. And so he did.

Each day he would get up and ready himself to feed the animals. Actually, the animals, the horses, cows and a bull could see him through his bedroom window. Around feeding time they would be on post watching him moving about.

The animals would have a sad look on their faces as if they were starving to death. They were running drag because they knew he could see them too. The bull would stand still at 12 o'clock, at attention to show his seriousness. "You see me, you see us, so you better bring yo ass out that house if you know what's good for you," the bull said. "I got two horns faya ass if you don't rush it!"

The horses would hang near the gate, knowing he must come there with the hay, but especially with the oats that they loved. "So why is he playing around?" they asked each other. "Don't he know we will kick his ass if he don't hurry up with our food? And he better come with some oats, to hell with that damn hay. He can give that hay to the cows and bull, we don't want hay, although we will eat it, but he knows we want the oats, so why is he stalling, playing power politics with us like he's God Almighty?"

The man observed the animals outside his window watching his every move, especially the sound of his voice as he talked on the phone. He talked so loudly, they could hear every word. They wished he would get his ass off the cell phone and bring their food.

The man dressed, putting on his straw Stetson that was torn from city life. He put a scarf across his nose because he was allergic to hay but enjoyed feeding the animals, so he suffered sneezing.
He walked down to the storage shed and filled two bags with hay and a small bag of oats.

As he walked toward the animals, they saw him coming and began to dance, prance and moved toward the gate, all of them, the bull, cows and horses. The horses were right at the gate, making sure they were first in line to be fed, next to them was the bull, then the cows since they were actually calves and had no seniority, although the bull wasn't much older, except he had two horns if there was a need to prove he was indeed the bull!

He opened the gate, barely able to get inside since the horses were hogging the entrance, but he pushed his way inside and began giving out the hay, holding back the oats because he knew the power of oaks, especially in the world of horses. They loved oats like a nigguh loves pork chops!

Since the horses knew he had oats, they played the waiting game, munching on the hay along with the cows and bull, but their eyes were on him, watching his every move, waiting until he brought forth the treasured oats, which he eventually did and the horses mobbed him at the gate, aggressively going for the bucket in his hand which he drew away least they snatch it from him and gobble the treasured oats.

He put a handful in one horse's mouth, then the other. He spread oats on the hay for the cows and bull, for the cows and bull loved oats too, but not like the horses--oats was dope to them, for the cows it was simply a pleasure, an extra at morning meal. But with the horses it was no joke, but a necessity since it was available.

They gobbled each handful he presented, following him as he moved in any direction, actually blocking him from getting to the cows and bull. When he would get to the cows and bull and pour the oats atop their hay, the horses would push the cows and bull aside and gobble the oats.

Looking pitiful, the cows and bull would submit, even though the bull had horns to demand respect from the horses. He did not challenge the horses, but instead sought out another pile of hay away from the greedy horses.

The man did not leave because he knew if he did, the horse would devour all the hay after they finished following him around with the oats. After giving out the oats, the man stood watching the animals, wondering if their behavior was any better or worse than that of the Negroes he'd left in the city. He thought maybe he should return to do battle with them for their upliftment, no matter the price.

But he decided to stay in the country for the moment, even though the city women were calling him and he was calling them.
--Marvin X

from the Wisdom of Plato Negro, Parables and Fables, by Marvin X.

Parable of the No People

No, no, no! That is all you say. Everything about you is no. Your lips say no, your eyes, your heart, your mind, your arms, your legs, your feet. You are a no person. I run from you. You say no to God. I am afraid of your no touch. I cannot expand my mind around no people. You will kill my spiritual development. No no no no!
When you say yes to life you open the world of infinite possibilities. I understand no part of no, only infinite possibilities. No does not exist in my world, only yes. Yes to love. Yes to success, yes to hope, yes to truth, yes to prosperity, yet to divinity, yes to resurrection, yes to ascension, yes to eternity. I am the language of yes. If you cannot say yes, get away from me. I run from you, want nothing to do with you. There is no hope for you until you open your mouth to yes.

Cast away the yes fear. Let it go, let God. Yes. No matter what, yes. No matter how long, yes. No matter how hard, yes. Let there be peace in the house, yes. Let there be love between you and me, yes. Let there be revolution in the land, over the world, yes. We will try harder, yes, we won't give up, yes. We shall triumph, yes. Yes is the language of God. Yes is the language of Divinity, Spirituality.

All the prophets said yes. Adam said yes, Abraham said yes. Moses said yes. Solomon said yes.Job said yes. Jeremiah, Isaiah said yes. The lover in Song of Solomon said yes. David said yes. John and Jesus said yes. Muhammad said yes. Elijah and Malcolm, Martin and Garvey, Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth said yes. Fannie Lou and Rosa Parks, Betty Shabazz and Coretta Scott said yes. Mama and daddy said yes. Grandma and grandpa said yes. All the ancestors said yes. Forevermore, let go of no and say yes. Dance to yes. Shout to yes!


--Marvin X


from Beyond Religion, toward Spirituality, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 2007

Parable of the Gangsta

Parable of the Gangsta

He wanted to be a gangsta since childhood. He watched his big brothers gang banging, in and out of prison, the funerals, parties with more wine than they had at the Last Supper. Females were always on hand serving the brothers, raising their babies, visiting them in jail and prison. Big cars, flashy clothes, bling bling, the little brother watched and waited his turn.

When it was time for him to join, he got ready for the initiation. On that day he was required to kill and rape. He was ready. No matter his mother was a hard working house cleaner who took the bus to work. She wanted none of her children's ill gotten gain. She was a Christian woman who tried to get him into college, rather than go the path of her other sons.

But he had other plans. He didn't want to be a square. He hated squares. They were, in his mind, suckers for the white man. He saw them with their suits and ties and brief cases, thinking they were all that and a bag of chips. He saw them in the dope house coping, along with their square girls. When the girls got sprung, they would leave the square nigguhs for the dope man.

He watched the square brothers get broke and turn tricks with the dope man in front of their women. He vowed to his dead gangsta brothers he would not be a square, but would be like them, even though they didn't want him to end up like them, in prison or a coffin early in life. Thursdays was gang initiation night in the hood.

Most people stayed off the street on Thursdays, unless people got off work late and had to walk home. Anyone could be a victim if caught on the street. He drove around looking for a victim, not far from his house. It didn't matter who it was. On a dim lighted street he saw a woman and snatched her onto the ground, tearing off her clothes. She screamed and yelled but he didn't care, especially since he was loaded on dope and out of his mind.

He didn't bother to look at the woman's face as he raped her. When he finished he turned her around and got the shock of his life. She was his mother! He ran to his car in shame and horror.When he got home he took out his gun and shot himself in the head and fell to the floor dead. He was now a gangsta.

--Marvin X



3/11/10

Based on a true story.
from the Wisdom of Plato Negro, Parables/fables, Volumes I and II, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 2010, $100.00.