Incognegro: An Insider's Perspective

After graduating from Morehouse College, I embarked on a Euro trip, intended to broaden my burgeoning worldview and celebrate four years of house parties and switching majors. With globalization at an all time high and post-college employment at an all time low, I felt I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. A six country tour, I cooked out at the Eiffel, trekked the Swiss Alps, (over) indulged in meat and beer at a traditional German dining hall, enjoyed gondola rides along the alluring Venetian canals, went wine tasting in an antiquated village, and experienced the ‘coffee shops’ and eccentricism of Amsterdam. Returning to the States, 21 years old with a college degree, and six new countries ‘under my belt,’ I was euphorically grateful. After all, I had seen more countries in one summer than both my parents had so far in their lifetimes. World traveler, I thought. I even created a twitter account; in the bio section I wrote something glib like ‘global citizen.’ No, I hadn’t seen most of the world yet, but fresh outta college I’d seen over 10 countries, several islands, and numerous American States. I was on my way towards living a lifestyle of travel...at least that’s what I thought.

Incongnegro, a black and white graphic novel written by Mat Johnson, tells the story of Zane Pinchback, a reporter for a black newspaper in the early 1930s New York City. A light skin brother able to ‘pass’ as a white man, Zane built his career investigating lynchings, while working totally undercover (or ‘Incognegro’).

Touring and traveling are not equivalent. The former connotes  consumerism while the later creates opportunities for cross-cultural immersion. One, a product of capitalism, and the other, a motor of multiculturalism, should not be confused. Tourism induces us to buy clothing that represents culture; traveling invites us to experience the culture that the clothes represent. Tourism enables us to walk the land; traveling encourages us to walk in the shoes of those whose land it is. Tourism concerns us with taking countless pictures; traveling challenges us to touch many people. While tourism exudes exorbitant prices and exclusive retreats, traveling involves everyday people. Simply put, tourism is a capitalist expenditure while traveling is a cultural exchange.

How do we break free from the chains of consumerism and transform from tourists to travelers?

Aware that traveling takes myriad forms (business, vacation, educational, etc.), it’s not my intention to promote a narrow model of global mobility. Instead, I wish to explore the ways in which some people (myself included) travel physically but rarely psychologically. Considering the power of the human brain, we must avoid the tendency to emphasize physical distance over psychological depth. We must ask ourselves, if our bodies move but our brains don’t, did we really travel? For example, you can be in the library physically but if your mind is at the party you skipped in order to study, then you might as well be doing the dougie. Our mind, not our matter, primarily determines where we are and thus, what we experience. This, in part, explains how two people in the same environment can, and tend to, experience it differently.

your body

your mind

As I returned to the States, family and friends, excited of my arrival, flooded me with questions. “How was it?” “Did you see the Taj?” “Did you ride an elephant?” Happy to be home but hesitant to routinely respond—“It was cool; I had fun”—I thought deeply about the nature of these questions. No, I didn’t see the Taj. Not because I didn’t care too, it wasn’t in my budget and, perhaps more importantly, I didn’t see it as a necessity. No, I didn’t ride an elephant. I guess I just never got around too it (but I learned to ride a Motorcycle). As I reflected on my loved ones’ questions, I asked myself: Is this the essence of traveling? A half-day tour to the Taj (a mega mausoleum) or a half hour ride on an exotic animal?

A fledgling yogi, thrilled to live in the birthplace of yogic philosophy, I planned to practice regularly. However, between my hectic schedule and pledge to ‘go with the flow,’ I didn’t do yoga, at all. No Taj. No elephants. No yoga. To those conditioned by the tourist industrial complex, my experience was incomplete. But we must ask, is it reasonable to reduce a three-month internship to three ‘adventurous’ activities? No, I didn’t see the Taj, but I visited Nalanda, arguably the oldest university in the world. No, I didn’t ride an elephant, but I rode several overnight trains (nasty toilet n’ all!). And no, I didn’t do yoga, at least not physically. Still, I was stretched spiritually, inspired intellectually, and challenged culturally—pushing me off my mattress of comfort onto the mat of adventure and exploration. I perspired; I left drained yet energized. I breathed. Perhaps I never stopped practicing: the land my 'mat' and Mama India my instructor. Namaste.

A pic isn't worth a thousand people

Not an attempt to abase tourism and its subscribers, this post is an all too brief investigation of the stark differences between tourism (primarily sight-seeing) and traveling (ideally cultural immersion). Tourists may leave their homes physically but rarely mentally. Travelers must do both, not only packing bags but simultaneously leaving 'baggage' behind—the baggage of American exceptionalism and western arrogance, the baggage of imperialist ideologies and colonial imaginations, the baggage of patriarchy and white supremacy, the baggage of misguided missiology and 'post-colonial' Christianization, and the baggage of religious intolerance and Islamophobia. If this ‘lethal luggage’ is not left behind, then I’m afraid you are neither touring nor traveling, you, my friend, are terrorizing! (See my last blog post).

Living in microcosmic ‘Americas’ abroad is not traveling. More than its physical element, traveling entails a mental movement, not a simple relocation of one's home and comfort zone. Tourism, in this context, is an illusion. Sadly, the tourist industrial complex masquerades its souvenirs, trinkets, and so-called cultural artifacts as evidence for traveling. And perhaps, even more unfortunately, tourists are satisfied with this unreasonable exchange.

“You give us your currency and we’ll give you our culture!"

Considering how much I stood out physically, the title of this post is ostensibly ironic. Zane, a light skin brother, was able to ‘pass,’ in a hostile culture, due to his complexion. I didn’t have this ‘luxury’ (don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be a chocolate brother). From my ethnic hairstyle to my ‘Jeeerzzeey’ accent, I was an identifiable foreigner. However, the more time I spent on the land and with the people, the more I sensed a radical shift, not necessarily in the ways others viewed me, but in the way I saw myself. I sensed myself transforming, from an outsider to an outside-insider, from a tourist to a traveler. In hindsight, my trip to Europe and my journey throughout India were categorically different. As I continue to travel, it's my hope not to be a cultural Zebra, camouflaged within a cross-cultural context, yet tattooed with nationalist stripes of superiority and ignorance. Amidst the cold sea of consumerism and rising tide of globalization, I aspire to maneuver more like Zane: (culturally) incognegro, not just in appearance, but in actuality.

Afterword

Although this will be my last post for this blog, i.e. 'Summer (In)dia,' it will not be my last blog post. I want to thank everyone who read, reflected, responded, and/or reposted. Your activity, not mine, enlivens the literary experience. I appreciate both the compliments and critique, which, dovetailing into a dynamic duo, pushes me beyond my own intellectual insecurities and ignorance.

I am currently in the process of creating a new blog, which will exist here, www.nylefort.blogspot.com, as well as on my website www.nylefort.com. Unsure of the title but certain of several themes, I hope you will continue this journey with me. For me, literature is liberation. I invite you to join me on this long walk towards freedom.

Symbiosis

If I remember correctly, I was copying a friend’s homework when the Principal made the announcement over the loud speaker. Homeroom was always homework time for school slackers, at least at South Orange Middle School. My teacher’s face froze, her pale cheeks reddened like crushed strawberries over a white canvas; her lips stiffened in fear. One girl, Emily (or maybe her name was Ashley), ran out of class, nearly collapsing with tears flowing like twin waterfalls. That was the only day in my 7^th grade career that Mrs. Appenzoler didn’t take attendance; she was a stickler for those kinds of things. “Airplanes, hit…Twin Towers…Muslim t-t-t-terrorists,” I heard students murmuring. Amidst the chaos, I turned to the freckled-face boy seated next to me and quietly asked, “What is the World Trade Center?”

New York City September 11th, 2001

Officially finished with my internship, I spent my last week here traveling throughout Northern India. Located in the foothills of the Himalayan belt and 120 km from the Pakistani border, Srinagar is a hotspot for both culture and conflict. A tourist’s dream and anti-terrorist’s nightmare, Srinagar is a puzzling mix of political tension and environmental beauty. Its unbelievable ‘floating city’ (some call it the ‘Venice of the East’) and majestic Islamic culture parallels its ubiquitous militarism and heavily policed marketplace. From its food (if you never had Halal go taste and thank me later) to its fabrics, Srinagar is a real life fairy tale. Nevertheless, in light of fairly recent terror attacks, Srinagar can be a real living hell! As I walked the land, spoke with locals, and bargained with peddlers, I noticed two worlds, coexisting. But it was more than that, I think.

Boat ride from the floating hotel to the market

Are the potential terrorist and passing tourist unconscious players on the same team of tragedy? Do terrorism and tourism share a symbiotic relationship? 

Contrary to popularized media images and ideologies, terrorism is not merely a product of physical violence. More than its physical element, terrorism is a perpetuation of fear, hysteria, and conflict—a psychic assault. (And many, if not all the time, the psychic element precedes its physical manifestation). Within this framework, the traditional terroristic identity sinks and new possibilities surface.

Mass media may be the largest, most powerful, and well-financed terrorist organization in the world. After all, it is through its patriarchal, racialized, and religiously intolerant misrepresentations that the masses are conditioned to fear blacks, immigrants, gays, Muslims, Arabs, and social pariahs, but not governmental authorities, police personnel, or corporate plutocrats. The evidence to this point is astronomical. In no other nation is crime more colorized than in America. For centuries, and in many ways still today, the idea of being black was a crime in itself.  And this American ethos affects all political and social vulnerables, especially foreigners and particularly, Arabs and Muslims.

The idea of 'white crime' is nonsensical in this era of mass media and mass incarceration (white collar crime is not synonymous). Television (minstrel) shows like Cops, portray poor urban blacks as the sole proprietors of America’s criminal culture when in fact, statistics suggest that whites and blacks commit crimes at similar rates (see Michelle Alexander's The New Jim Crow). But perhaps more important is the reality that the government and corporate oligarchs steal and rob, albeit legally, from the public sector more than any street ‘thug’ could in a lifetime. But notice how different groups are labeled and how that labeling is distributed along color lines, i.e. blacks as criminals and politicians, overwhelmingly rich white men, as corrupt. This distinction, seemingly subtle, is profoundly implicating. Who’s the true criminal? And who are the real thugs? In the world of mass media: 1. welfare recipients are disproportionately 'lazy' black single mothers, although whites receive more government aid than any other racial group, 2. the only gangs are street gangs, although state militarism and police ‘squads’ are arguably the biggest and baddest gangs in the world, and 3. terrorists are invariably Arab, Muslim, and you got it, colored…although, between the militarism abroad and police brutality ‘at home,’ more people have been murdered and terrorized by the red, white, and boys in blue than all street gangs and terrorist organizations combined!

justiceforjordanmiles.com

New York City, like Srinagar, is an international hub, filled with tourists and fearful of terror. Ever since 9/11, fear of the Islamic faith and its followers has marginalized a significant population of the world (approximately 25%). This ‘hijabic’ hysteria has hijacked the rights and terrorized the freedom of many Muslims. Despite over 1.5 billion Muslims throughout the world, post 9/11 media focused on the 19 hijackers, Osama Bin Laden, and the Taliban. Misrepresentations like these are media missiles directed at the collective conscious of the masses. And its images act as W.M.D.’s (weapons of mass distortion), destroying our sense of reality. The injuries are ravaging: a diseased imagination, paralyzed immigration system, and broken movement for peace and justice. What a genius way to divert the people’s attention away from America’s state-sanctioned domestic terrorists by focusing on the so-called religious, cultural, and foreign 'enemy.'

If terrorism and tourism share a symbiotic relationship, then mass media is their sex toy, playing with its subscribers until we all climax in catastrophe.

The Spa: Space & Sexuality

The first time I saw two men walking and holding hands in Mumbai, I dismissed it as ordinary homosexual P.D.A. (public display of affection). Growing up in North Jersey, 8 miles from one of the world’s most sexually liberal neighborhoods, I am no stranger to the lgbtq community. In fact, two members of that community occupy my home and essentially raised me: my mom and her partner (love you ma and Aunt Carolyn!). Despite my window into the world of homosexuality, I was locked in the living room of homophobia. Unfortunately, the homosexuality of my adolescent experience could not erase the heternormativity of American culture.

Seemed like every other day someone would mention Jacaranda. I passed it every morning on my way to teach at Stanes Secondary School. Paying it little attention, I assumed it was like every other Spa I’ve experienced—an environment of exorbitant prices and elitist personalities. A poor student activist's worst nightmare! It wasn’t until my last week in Coonoor that I began entertaining the idea of a full body massage. After all, I had been working hard: teaching, preaching, reading, writing, meeting, organizing, etc. Before I knew it, I was laying prostrate, waiting for Jai to begin the session.

Homosexuality and homophobia are at war on the battlefield of American politics, religion, and social life. Homophobia has historically kicked ass! But relatively recently, the lgbtq community and gay rights activists have retaliated with more than mere speech and sympathy, sparking a national conversation re: sexual discrimination, human rights, and marriage law in the ‘queer’ context. 

India, the second most populated country in the world, is not your ideal location for social space. In metropolitan cities like Mumbai, Delhi, and Chennai, people are everywhere: beside, behind, in front, and on top of you! There’s no getting around it, literally. The very idea of ‘personal’ space (at least in the American sense) is at best, negligible, and at worst, nonexistent. So-called personal space in the American context is considered public space in many Indian cultures. Due to the large population, interpersonal proximity is unavoidable. Men are close, physically. Some men walk shoulder to shoulder with their arms draped around each other’s necks; some hold hands. While in many American spaces two men holding hands is considered a sign of homosexual romance, in much of India it is…well, not a sign at all but simply a social norm. 

Ooty, Tamil Nadu

Is the relationship between American individualism and rampant homophobia coincidence or consequential?  I mean, is it possible that space and sexuality tango to the tunes of social norms and social 'nooo-ways'? 

The most I’ve ever let another man touch my body is during my annual visit to the doctor for a check-up (every health-care privileged male knows the semi-awkward ‘balls procedure’). Despite my exposure to the homosexual lifestyle, never in a million years would I hold another man’s hand in public, let alone allow one to fiercely rub my body with sensual oils in a dimly lit room. Well, my million years was up! and my body lying down in preparation for my first male-to-male massage. (Jacaranda only provides same-sex massages)…

As a Youth Pastor and theological student, I encounter the spirit of homophobia first hand, in various social spaces, including churches and Christian circles. Sadly, many Pastors and Christian 'leaders' hide their prejudice behind the ‘power’ of the pulpit and bolster their bigotry with biblical claims. Some say all gays are going to hell. Others, slightly less forward yet equally exclusive, admit that Christians are obligated to love the lgbtq community but won’t recognize them as fully Christian, or Christian at all. Hardly any offer gays leadership roles (but will unhesitatingly take their money). And even fewer promote marriage equality, a fundamental human right. The Church, as a whole, refuses to share (spiritual) space with people of a different sexual orientation. Exclusivist claims and bigoted biblical ‘scholarship’ have locked many gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered outside the doors of the Church, which claims to be open for all.

Similarly, many politicians perpetuate anti-gay hysteria and homophobia. Notice how certain politicians conveniently reference their ‘faith’ and biblical beliefs when discussing gay marriage. However, why don't many of these same politicians and national 'leaders' refer to their ‘faith’ concerning foreign policy or the economy? The message is clear: it’s not okay for gays to marry but it’s perfectly fine to kill innocent Afghani civilians and spend over 2 trillion dollars on the so-called war on terror while countless men, women, and children suffer from homelessness and hunger.

And the tango continues…

My male-to-male massage was both sensual and symbolic. It symbolized the disruption of my need for 'heterosexual space' and destroyed my misguided idea of masculinity. For 60 minutes, I shared intimate space with another man. I went to Jacaranda to get a massage and ending up receiving a message: sharing social space influences human sexuality.

Afterword

It would be disingenuous for me to critique systems and power without considering how my own prejudices participate in and perpetuate unjust 'isms'. As I recognize my heterosexual privilege, I ask forgiveness for my injuries to the lgbtq community. And as I ask forgiveness, I simultaneously began the process of repentance from dehumanizing homophobic ideologies. A few sentences cannot heal the scars I’ve caused. Words won't fix the spirits I may have left broken with insensitive rhetoric. May you forgive me as I struggle to repent with my life, not just my lips.

"Oh Shit!": Curse or Cultural Construct?

Orange Grove Road

The wind beats against my eardrums. The scenery? Absolutely stunning!—6,000 ft. above sea level, some say even higher. A boar saunters down the curvy road; a gang of monkeys lurk in the tropical trees. “Beep! Beep!...Beeeep!” The horns sing their usual tune. Schoolboys dressed in traditional uniforms stare in suspicion, eyeing my ethnic hairstyle. As I pan the scene, the driver of the motorcycle sways to the left. The road, like many back in the States, could use repavement. It was too late. “Boom, boom!” Then an instantaneous “oh shit!” from the driver of the Honda Hero. Fortunately, the pothole didn’t damage the bike. After regrouping, we continued our journey to the local market. But wait. Did he just say what I think he did? As quickly as I entertained the idea, I dismissed it. After all, high elevation has a way of messing with folks’ ears.

In American discourse, the conventional idea of ‘cursing’ involves the utterance of one or more profane words. However, the English dictionary relegates this definition as secondary to a more inclusive understanding. The primary definition of a ‘curse,’ according to the English dictionary, is “an utterance intended to inflict harm on a person or group.” The word intention is very important. Here, ‘cursing’ refers, not to a set of words, but rather a linguistic demonstration of will. Thus, we must distinguish the difference between 'cursing' and profanity. Profanity (from the Latin pro fano) means “outside the sanctuary or temple,” referring to items (including language) not belonging inside a religious building. From this definition, profanity can be any worldly or nonreligious terminology. Profanity, secular words usually used to express emotion, and cursing, intentionally harmful discourses aimed at a particular person or group, are not synonymous.

Shit: A Case Study

Derived from Old English—scite (dung) and scitan (to defecate)—the word shit and its various expressions have evolved over time. The Old English word scite, meaning feces, developed into the Modern English word shit, a vague noun with multiple meanings and expressions. The definition of shit in modern English ranges from 'stuff' (this blog is good shit) to personal belongings (pack your shit and go!) to chemical material that excretes from our anal region (I gotta take a shit!) to an attitude (get your shit together) to trouble (you're in deep shit) to confrontation (when the shit hits the fan) to worthlessness (you ain't shit!) to appreciation (that's my shit!) to bragging (shit talking) to gossip (talking shit), and so much more. Its various meanings are expressed through music, in movies (see Forest Gump "shit happens" scene), and in our everyday lives. Like the word 'fuck,' shit has a plethora of meanings depending on the user and context.

My first trip to Northern India was a surreal adventure. Overnight trains. Best food of my life. Teaching a class with a Hindi translator. Extreme heat. A visit to the oldest University in the world. But nothing was like my experience one Friday evening. After a last minute invitation to preach at a local church, my colleagues and I hurried into the van and headed through the forest, into the village. Aside from the headlights on our vehicle, the entire village was pitch black. No streetlights. No house lights. Just total darkness. After my eyes adjusted, we slowly walked into what looked like an old shed. Halfway through preaching, the lights came on. A few ‘hallelujahs” permeated the silence. After service, we walked next door to the Pastor’s house for food and fellowship. Before I could bite into my first piece of puri, the lights switched off. “Ohh Shit!,” the entire room—Pastors, church leaders, and Christian kids—proclaimed in synchronicity.

The Pastor's house after preaching

I could not dismiss it this time. It was unequivocal. A group of Christians committed the unbelievably profane, just a few feet away from the church building. They cursed! Or did they?

Cursing: A Cross-cultural Analysis

Cursing, or curse words, is culturally confined. What is considered profane in one culture may be acceptable in another and vice versa. There is nothing inherently evil about words. Words are primarily constructs; this is part of the reason why language evolves over time. The difference between cursing in the fundamental sense and profanity is vital. Rather than referring to a group of linguistically ambivalent words (profanity), cursing involves intention and will. Within this context, we can no longer narrowly and naively label musical artists as the proprietors of our cursing culture. For although they may curse linguistically, many uplift and empower listeners psychologically and dare I say, spiritually (listen to the Blues, what Dr. James Cone calls our “secular-spirituals”). On the other hand, many politicians and preachers, despite their politically correct, socially acceptable, and linguistically safe language, curse the universal “other” via political and theological discourses. Their subtle yet subversive anti-women, anti-gay, anti-black and Latino, anti-immigrant, anti-Arabic, and anti-human campaign speeches and sermons are more harmful and destructive than any musical artist or average person’s use of profanity could ever be. Consider the Declaration of ‘Independence.’ In all its linguistic beauty and political hoopla, it is a deceptive and dehumanizing document. A lie. A sham. A curse? You don’t have to be a legal scholar to know that when Thomas Jefferson wrote “all men are created equal,” he, and the rest of America’s ‘Founding Fathers,’ excluded blacks, Indians, and women from the right of equality and the realm of humanity. By denying women the right to vote, blacks the right to be free, and Indians the right to their land, the ‘Founding Fathers’ cursed their vulnerable ‘inferiors,’ politically and socially. And just in case you think this is merely a historical issue, please think again. 

Rick Santorum

Rick Santorum, the former GOP Presidential candidate, marked the new year with this statement: “I don’t want to make black people’s lives better by giving them somebody else’s money,” referring to blacks receiving federal aid, a.k.a. welfare checks. (Although whites receive more welfare then any other race in America). Wait, there’s more! Charles Worley, a pastor from North Carolina, recently suggested, during a sermon!, that gays and lesbians be tortured on an electric fence and proclaimed that “forty years ago [gays] would’ve hung, Bless God, from an oak tree” (emphasis added). Rick Santorum, a popular politician, and Charles Worley, a provocative pastor—both white and both men—are just two examples of how current politicians and religious ‘leaders’ continue to curse in the names of racism and homophobia. For too long, the politician’s podium and the preacher’s pulpit have been a collective platform of unchecked power, control, and cursing!

Charles Worley

So why are very few people, especially so-called religious folk, talking about this issue? And why, at the same time, are many of these same so-called religious folk going out their way to police and protest profane language amongst children, in churches, and throughout the community while permitting dehumanizing theo-political discourse in the same spaces? This is a serious question.

We must acquire a more comprehensive understanding of the idea of cursing that does not easily and conveniently demonize curse words while accepting destructive discourses. When a rapper calls a woman a “bitch,” the world responds in uproar, as I believe we should! But when a politician characterizes the same woman as inferior and less than human or when a pastor encourages women to ‘stay in their place,’ most of the world remains silent. And this silence is the essence of our problem.

Mass Media, in its production and management of consciousness, is more harmful than any curse word could ever be. Mass media’s selective censoring of certain words does not protect our children from the much more devastating curses of mass incarceration, mass discrimination, and mass (mis)education. This traumatic trio is a perpetual curse intended for and directed to the world’s most vulnerable: the poor, physically and mentally challenged, women, minorities, etc.

What we say and what we communicate or what we say and what we really mean by what we say can be completely different. For example, when many (not all) patriotic individuals proudly say, “God Bless America,” some of them really mean, “And fuck the rest of the world!” (Sorry but I gotta keep it 100). Unspoken language and nonverbal communication are the most dangerous kinds of curses. It is this linguistic violence, not a rapper’s “fuck” or a teenager’s “shit” or my sporadic use of profanity that is the real issue.

Just to be clear: this is not an attempt to promote profanity. Rather, this is an all too brief investigation of the ways in which certain language is labeled sacred and others sacrilegious. And how that labeling, performed by an elite population of power and privilege, tends to be distributed along racial, cultural, and religious lines.

So, curse or cultural construction? Fuck it, who gives a shit? Please excuse my…Indian.

I Got "Jungle Fever!"

Spike Lee’s 1991 film, Jungle Fever, is a cinematic classic. Starring Wesley Snipes (Flipper) and Annabella Sciorra (Angie), Jungle Fever depicts the inevitable casualties of cultural wars. Flipper, a successful African-American businessman, encounters a new world as a result of a romantic affair with an Italian-American secretary, Angie. Through their relationship, Spike cleverly conveys both the trouble and tension of 'cultural intercourse.’ Far from a typical romance flick, ending “happily ever after,” Jungle Fever challenges all those who dare to step onto the battlefield of socio-cultural difference in the name of a love that transcends racial, social, and cultural barriers. Spike’s project, based in the urban milieu of New York City, featuring world-renowned actors such as Wesley Snipes, Samuel Jackson (Morehouse Man, say word!), Halle Berry, and Queen Latifah (Newark Native, say word!), ostensibly, has little to do with my far from Hollywood experience in India. However, with a little imagination and slight obsession with Spike Lee joints (another Morehouse Man, say word!), I was able to impute new meaning into the hip-hop mantra, “My life is like a movie.”

Before this summer, the environment was something I either ignored or destroyed, both knowingly and inadvertently. Aside from sporadic instances—a random episode of National Geographic or pausing to appreciate the allure of Manhattan’s skyline—I never paid attention to the environment nor its effects on my life and world. Growing up in and around Newark, NJ, the third oldest city in the U.S., conditioned me to care less about environmental concerns and more about the benefits of urbanization and rooftop parties. Newark, also known as “Brick City,” rests in the shadows of NYC’s concrete jungle. It is an archetypal urban hub, replete with historic buildings, solid nightlife, and bustling public transportation. As I prepared to leave my concrete jungle made of dried mortar and overcrowded buses for the tropical jungle of Southern India, I had no idea what to expect. However, traveling to India as a summer intern, I never once expected to be unfaithful to my native love for everything urban. Not too long after arriving, I realized that I had caught a fever, not from the climatic change but from a cultural exchange.

"Brick City" (Newark, NJ)

As a theological student and aspiring public servant, I am inclined to explore the relationship between my spiritual beliefs and their societal implications. Investigatin the ways in which what I believe impacts how I experience the world is not merely academic recreation but, for me, a social responsibility. For example, my understanding of Jesus as a Palestinian political prisoner and death-row inmate, executed by the Roman Empire, has far reaching implications on my work against mass incarceration and the prison industrial complex. Or, my understanding of God as a non-gendered, inclusive, self-giving Spirit whose love transcends all religious and cultural boundaries, marks the starting point for my commitments to both interreligious dialogue and nonreligious discourse. Although I have made many connections between my personal convictions and my social commitments, I have never considered how my theology impacts my attitude towards the environment and how that subsequently informs my daily behavior.

Most people, regardless of their religious persuasion, know, or at least have heard, the story of the ‘fall’ of humanity, recorded in the Torah, Quran (with some differences), and Christian Bible. Although I have read this story several times throughout my life, I never challenged the traditional notion that confines its significance to human sin and divine punishment. Many Christians misread the fall narrative as a scientific document rather than a mythological narrative. Let’s briefly explore. First, we must understand the medium, or genre, by which this narrative is given to us: myth. Although myth and fiction are not synonymous, they are similar in that they are less concerned with facts and more with communicating a message or truth. This does not mean that the story is entirely fictitious; it simply suggests that it should not be read for scientific proof or historical evidence. (Think about it; it would be foolish to read a cookbook for fashion tips). The important lesson here is that the message follows the medium. So, what does this story have to do with my experience? Well, it is from this story that I was religiously conditioned to think: 1. the earth is “cursed," 2. humans are superior to all other animals, and 3. all materiality is inherently evil. Through this flawed theological understanding, my environmental attitude was born.

New Dehli, 10th most polluted city in the world

Despite the widely accepted traditional understanding, a careful rereading of the 'fall' narrative leads us to a new and more humane appreciation of text. Contrary to traditional interpretation, this narrative has less to do with righteousness and divine punishment than it does responsibility and environmental protection. God gave Adam and Eve a responsibility to look after and care for the environment. Thus, eating of the fruit is not an indication of immorality but irresponsibility. Humanity, represented in Adam and Eve, sacrificed care for consumption and ecology for exploitation. Thus, if the earth is at all “cursed,” it is not because God punished her but because we have and continue to abuse her in the names of urbanization and global imperialism. In light of the terroristic assault we have waged on the earth and her byproducts, the implications of this ancient story could not be more relevant. Considering how greedy economic agendas negatively influence environmental policies, culminating in a multinational environmental genocide, we can re-imagine the ‘fall,’ not as a fall from grace (as many suggest) but a failure to guard and protect our most precious gift.


Despite living 8 miles from the scene of Spike's film, it wasn't until I travelled over 8,000 miles that I appreciated its universal significance. For the last five weeks I have been romancing a cultural enemy. Our flirtatious friendship quickly turned into a romantic affair and ultimately, cultural intercourse (God, forgive me!). Enthralled by her majestic beauty and enraptured by her generous spirit, I’ve committed urbanization’s great sin: appreciation of and affection for…Mama Nature. My ‘fall’ from urban glamour mixed with an expulsion from the city into the outskirts of Western ‘civilization,' did not come without casualties. Through deep and creative dialogue, Mama Nature has challenged my urban superiority complex that equates urban planning with social progress. In doing so, I am forced to bury my socially bias assumptions that confuse urbanization for progress and city living for civilization. This cinematic collision between my urban background and her uber beauty is a developing drama, nevertheless, a classic love story in the making. Just like Flipper, I got caught up with a cultural adversary, literally an enemy of the streets. Like Flipper, I had a taste of my culture's forbidden fruit; like Flipper, I got “jungle fever!”

One of our favorite meeting spots

My life is like a movie?

Although I hesitate to subscribe to seemingly superficial mantras that pervade mainstream hip-hop, I must admit, if my life were like a movie, then I hope it would be a Spike Lee joint: low-budget yet exponentially profitable, socio-politically conscious, and culturally complex—a classic combination. Now where are my 40 acres and a mule?

N.W.A. (Nilgiri's With Altitude)

Hip-hop is everywhere. From its humble beginnings on the streets of South Bronx to its explosion to every corner of the modern world, hip-hop has evolved from an underground counterculture into a worldwide phenomenon. Despite its global reach, hip-hop owes much of its commercial “success” to the emergence of gangsta (or reality) rap in the late 1980s. Through this medium, misunderstood and marginalized black youth narrate(d) the harsh realities of being black in America. Artists and groups such as Ice-T, Public Enemy, and N.W.A. used music as a revolutionary cultural resource to resist unjust social norms, viz., racial profiling and police brutality. N.W.A. (Niggaz Wit Attitudes), despite their controversial lyrics, provided critical social commentary and pioneered the sub genre, gangsta rap, from the block to blockbuster.

N.W.A. (from left to right): Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, Eazy-E, DJ Yella, & MC Ren

After four days in Mumbai, I flew to Coimbatore en route to Coonoor. Coonoor, resting over 6,000 ft. above sea level, is located in the Nilgiris hills of Tamil Nadu. Unlike Mumbai, Coonoor’s temperature is pleasantly mild. The change of pace was welcomed after four days of sweltering heat (avg. 110° F), severe jet lag (9.5 hr time difference), and traveling sickness (no diarrhea tho, thank God!). I wasted little time once I arrived; after a day of recuperation, I began my work.

Nilgiri Hills, Tamil Nadu

Much of my work takes place at Stanes Secondary School, where I teach 11^th and 12^th graders ‘Value Education’—a life-skills building course. Excited about this opportunity, I approached my first class filled with energy and enthusiasm. After introducing myself—where I’m from, what I do, and why I’m here—I asked my students if they had any questions for me. After a brief silence, one of the students stood up and asked, “Can you rap?” Hmmmmm… Before I could answer, a series of suspicious questions followed. “Can you show us how to dance? Are you good at basketball?” Hmmmmm… It was at this moment that I accepted something that I had subconsciously tried to ignore. Can I rap? And just like that, a voice deep within me began to speak, nah to flow, to myself, “you never stop being a nigga / and if you get to be educated you jus an educated nigga.” This prophetic proclamation, authored by none other than N.W.A., became my testimony.

First day teaching at Stanes Secondary School

Despite travelling over 8,000 miles, finishing my first year at a well-respected institution of higher education, and landing a competitive summer internship, my potentiality was reduced to my (in)ability to rap, dance, and dribble a ball. Now let me be clear. I do not, by any means, hold my students responsible for their misguided imaginations. Instead of condemning a group of teenagers, I prefer to critique the system by which people from around the world acquire these racialized caricatures of black identity, viz, mass media. (This caricaturization applies to peoples of all marginalized groups including but not limited too Muslims, Latinos, women, immigrants, the poor, the lgbt community, etc.).

Mass media, an intricate network of channels by which consciousness is created and cultivated, (too often) substitutes complexity for miniaturization—hampering our ability to conceptualize complex cultural realities. The ownership and management of racial and cultural consciousness by a conglomerate of big corporations has devastating effects on the way people around the world view each other, especially the most vulnerable (see Dr. Jared Ball’s I Mix What I Like! A Mixtape Manifesto). The manufacturing of racialized identities combined with the overall commercialization of culture converts cultural realities into media fantasies. Mass media, in this sense, functions as a kind of technological ‘terrorism,’ in which popularized images can be used as cultural W.M.D.s (weapons of mass distortion).

Media and Mass Incarceration

Considering the onslaught of police and “security” executed violence against black bodies via murder and mass incarceration combined with the racial injustice practiced in the NYPD’s “stop and frisk” campaign, N.W.A’s lyrics offer a prophetic critique of America’s criminal (in)justice system. In a country where 1 out of every 3 young black men are currently under some form of incarceration (see Michelle Alexander's The New Jim Crow)—prison, probation, or parole—there is no better time to revisit the lyrics that made gangsta (or reality) rap so prophetic and powerful. Off "Niggaz 4 Life," the young Ice Cube spits:

Why do I call myself a nigga you ask me?

Because police always wanna harass me

Fuck tha police

Comin straight from the underground

Young nigga got it bad cuz I’m brown

And not the other color so police think

They have the authority to kill a minority*

Like N.W.A.’s adversarial lyrics, my presence in the (or any) classroom, by definition, is a form of countercultural communication. Although I’m not from Compton, I haven’t sold over 10 million records, and I’m not responsible for the emergence of gangtsta rap, I am a product of hip-hop. In a sense, “Straight outta Compton” came “straight to Coonoor.” The “Nilgiri’s With Altitude” met a “Nigga Wit Attitude,” embodying the spirit of hip-hop and carrying on the tradition of oppositional communication. Can I rap? Well, if rap is to be defined as hip-hop’s speech element (Ball, 3) and speech can be defined as any form of linguistic communication—spoken word, rhyming, public speaking, writing, then… Hmmmmm… I’ll let you decide!

*(see Ramarley Graham, Trayvon Martin, Rekia Boyd, Bo Morrison, Darius Simmons, Clarence Aaron and many other black and brown bodies murdered by police and "security" personnel since January 2012).

"Curry Culture": A Mumbai Memoir

It’s impossible to have a thorough conversation about culture without considering food. Food, a biological necessity, is threaded into our cultural fabric. You would be hard-pressed to think about the splendor of Chinese culture without considering the decadence of its egg rolls (yes egg rolls!!). You will find it difficult to discuss the complexities of the black experience in America without taking seriously the creativity of soul food. And you cannot properly contextualize India without contemplating the complexity of Indian curry. (And this can be said of any culture: Jamaican Jerk, German beer, Muslim Halal, Italian pasta, "Hood" Ices, Japanese sushi, and so on).

Mumbai, Maharashtra

Curry is a culinary phenomenon originating from the Indian subcontinent. It was anglicized from the Tamil term kari, meaning ‘sauce,’ perhaps around the mid 17^th century (here I am referencing the origin of the term 'curry,' not its usage which may date back to 2600 BCE). Currently, curry is a type of cuisine that can contain meat, seafood, or vegetables. It can be served “wet” (with a lot of sauce) or “dry” (with very little sauce). Essentially, curry is the integration of a, more or less, complex combinations of herbs and spices.

My first meal in Mumbai

Although my time in Mumbai (Bombay) was full of adventures, my most consistent memory is the forcefulness of the food. Now let me be clear. I do not mean to reduce the fourth most populated city in the world to some sort of cultural kitchen. Mumbai is a bustling city with a strong economy and a rich history. Nevertheless, I could not deny the indubitable relationship between what I ate and what I experienced.

Like curry, Mumbai is a complex combination—not of herbs and spices, but—of peoples, religions, castes, animals, music, smells, etc. From the moment I touched down, I couldn’t help but notice the religious and cultural pluralism that dominated every street corner. From the Hindu shrines to your everyday street hustlers…from the unbelievably dirty Arabian sea shore (never thought I’d see ocean water worst than Jersey) to the beauty of the Taj just feet away, I soon realized that I could not fit Mumbai into the confines of my camera pixels (or even this blog entry). Like curry, Mumbai is plural. Indian curry comes in many different forms, as do the people of Mumbai. Like my consumption of curry, my experience in Mumbai was spicy, hot (113° F my first day), and diverse. By the end of my stay I realized that curry is not just a food to be eaten; it is a culture to be experienced!