I have just finished reading Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin.
‘It was a costume ball- such functions mostly were because people at that time liked costumes. they liked them almost as much as they liked uniforms. Both served the same end: to avoid being who you were. You could pretend to be someone else. You could become bigger and more powerful or more alluring and mysterious, just by putting on exotic clothes, well there was something to it.’
Inspired me to write: Thoughts on the Panther
Now we take selfies and post them on social media. Black Panther is a costume drama where we get to make believe we are a powerful people in control of our own destiny. When in reality we are just puppets for the criminal justice, pharmaceutical, agribusiness, religious, industrialized capitalist complex. Trained circus animals jumping through white supremacist hoops.
Black arms revealed are indecent and the white naked beauty of the presidents wife is God’s gift to creation. I can get shot in the back just for saying ‘whats up?’. Disappeared because I dare to speak out about corruption. Beaten.
And like the Rasta who loose their hair during incarceration its not seen as a human rights violation. 21st Century slave, locked in Hollywood invention, illusion, reacting not responding. To be a superhero is the latest fashion. It give us sophistication. So step back you LGBTI, step back women, step back children. Open you legs and receive your violation. The media god has spoken. Shrouded in wolves clothing we bow down to the Aryan Nation. White clothes, white hair, white skin, white thoughts. Bleached.
We try to escape our war torn regions. We are drowning, like the historical millions lost in middle passage. Sacrificed to Poseidon. Its a tragedy but we don’t want to give up the hierachy. We want to sit at the thigh table. Engorging ourselves to intoxification. Whatever the opium and there are many to choose from, we wear the costume and uniform of deception.