Ebony Dick

Ebony Dick
One “New York Times” writer seems to think so.
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(Photos from left: The Game via Instagram, Brian Ach/Getty Images)
It’s not a secret that America has a serious issue with Black men in general. Too often it seems the sheer presence of Black men invokes a sense of irrational fear and paranoia from the public in general, and more specifically amongst law enforcement.
When it comes to Black male sexuality—especially their penises—does America hold that same fear? One writer from the “New York Times” seems to think so.
In “Last Taboo,” cultural critic Wesley Morris excellently unpacks the tumultuous relationship that Black sexuality—and genitalia— has historically had with the white gaze. Morris points to slavery and the Mandingo stereotype; the Brutal Black Buck seen in 1915’s The Birth of A Nation; and current pop culture to broadly discuss how the Black penis has either been ignored, fetishized or criminalized.
“The national terror of black sexuality is a central pillar of the American blockbuster. In 1915, D.W. Griffith’s “The Birth of a Nation” envisioned a post-Civil War country run by feckless white abolitionists, nearly ruined by haughty blacks and then saved by the Ku Klux Klan — a mob whose energies are largely focused on rescuing a white woman from a half-black, half-white lieutenant governor’s attempt to force her into marriage. That’s just the plot; Griffith’s genius was at its most flagrant in the feverish surrounding details. The country isn’t even done being rebuilt in “The Birth of a Nation,” and here comes the K.K.K., already determined to make America great again,” he writes.
Morris also points that this type of anger lives with us now: “ Look at Gov. Paul LePage of Maine, who, speaking at a town-hall meeting in January, blamed invading dealers for the state’s drug problem — men with such cartoonishly “black” street names as “D-Money, Smoothie, Shifty.” They come north for business, he said, and “half the time, they impregnate a young, white girl.”
He also mentioned Lena Dunham’s infuriating accusation against Odell Beckham Jr. and the weight that come with that.
“In September, Dunham made an irritating paradox of those assumptions when she took public umbrage after the football player Odell Beckham Jr. paid her insufficient attention at this year’s Met Gala, a perceived slight that seemingly devalued her worth as a white woman. It was a 21st-century offense that seems as if it could have been taken in the 19th.”
But Morris just doesn't focus on how whites see Black bodies but how Black men and artists talk about and reflect on their own sexuality from Blackploitation films to TV shows including Power and Luke Cage and the hit Indie film "Moonlight" (that explores Black gay men.
It's refreshing to see a piece that spends a great deal of time fleshing out such an incredibly complex topic.
Read the piece in its entirety here .
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“If Ulysses isn't worth reading, then life isn't worth living.”
Multiple failures to read this book is a prerequisite to completing this book. But the struggle was worth it. These were some videos and books I bought that helped me:
But .. on the black water pullet, watched another, passionate eye gaze ...
That's my best friend and brother Jorge (he's for real my sibling). Even though we were so tired and torn out in our business trip; we manage to get out of our comfort zone (hotel) and walk for those beautiful streets of the old Chicago. That's Cenmark Avenue, Chicago Illinois.
And amazes me to compare the confort of this days to the old days when this poem was written:
Trivia; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London
Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
The proper implements for wintry ways;
Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes,
To read the various warnings of the skies.
Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town,
And for the public safety risk thy own.
For ease and for dispatch, the morning's best;
No tides of passengers the street molest.
You'll see a draggled damsel, here and there,
From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear;
On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains;
Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains!
Before proud gates attending asses bray,
Or arrogate with solemn pace the way;
These grave physicians with their milky cheer,
The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair;
Here rows of drummers stand in martial file,
And with their vellum thunder shake the pile,
To greet the new-made bride. Are sounds like these
The proper prelude to a state of peace?
Full charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs:
Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground,
And all the streets with passing cries resound.
If cloth'd in black, you tread the busy town
Or if distinguish'd by the rev'rend gown,
Three trades avoid; oft in the mingling press,
The barber's apron soils the sable dress;
Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye,
Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh;
Ye walkers too that youthful colours wear,
Three sullying trades avoid with equal care;
The little chimney-sweeper skulks along,
And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng;
When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat,
From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat:
The dust-man's cart offends thy clothes and eyes,
When through the street a cloud of ashes flies;
But whether black or lighter dyes are worn,
The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne,
With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way,
To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray,
Butcher's, whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul stain,
And always foremost in the hangman's train.
Let due civilities be strictly paid.
The wall surrender to the hooded maid;
Nor let thy sturdy elbow's hasty rage
Jostle the feeble steps of trembling age;
And when the porter bends beneath his load,
And pants for breath, clear thou the crowded road.
But, above all, the groping blind direct,
And from the pressing throng the lame protect.
You'll sometimes meet a fop, of nicest tread,
Whose mantling peruke veils his empty head;
At ev'ry step he dreads the wall to lose,
And risks, to save a coach, his red-heel'd shoes;
Him, like the miller, pass with caution by,
Lest from his shoulder clouds of powder fly.
But when the bully, with assuming pace,
Cocks his broad hat, edg'd round with tarnish'd lace,
Yield not the way; defy his strutting pride,
And thrust him to the muddy kennel's side;
He never turns again, nor dares oppose,
But mutters coward curses as he goes.
If drawn by bus'ness to a street unknown,
Let the sworn porter point thee through the town;
Be sure observe the signs, for signs remain,
Like faithful land-marks to the walking train.
Seek not from prentices to learn the way,
Those fabling boys will turn thy steps astray;
Ask the grave tradesman to direct thee right,
He ne'er deceives, but when he profits by 't.
Where fam'd St. Giles's ancient limits spread,
An inrail'd column rears its lofty head,
Here to sev'n streets sev'n dials count the day,
And from each other catch the circling ray.
Here oft the peasant, with enquiring face,
Bewilder'd, trudges on from place to place;
He dwells on ev'ry sign with stupid gaze,
Enters the narrow alley's doubtful maze,
Tries ev'ry winding court and street in vain,
And doubles o'er his weary steps again.
Thus hardy Theseus with intrepid feet,
Travers'd the dang'rous labyrinth of Crete;
But still the wand'ring passes forc'd his stay,
Till Ariadne's clue unwinds the way.
But do not thou, like that bold chief, confide
Thy vent'rous footsteps to a female guide;
She'll lead thee with delusive smiles along,
Dive in thy fob, and drop thee in the throng.
When waggish boys the stunted besom ply
To rid the slabby pavement, pass not by
E'er thou hast held their hands; some heedless flirt
Will over-spread thy calves with spatt'ring dirt.
Where porters hogsheads roll from carts aslope,
Or brewers down steep cellars stretch the rope,
Where counted billets are by carmen tost,
Stay thy rash steps, and walk without the post....
When rosemary, and bays, the poet's crown,
Are bawl'd in frequent cries through all the town,
Then judge the festival of Christmas near,
Christmas, the joyous period of the year.
Now with bright holly all your temples strow,
With laurel green and sacred mistletoe.
Now, heav'n-born Charity, thy blessings shed;
Bid meagre Want uprear her sickly head:
Bid shiv'ring limbs be warm; let plenty's bowl
In humble roofs make glad the needy soul.
See, see, the heav'n-born maid her blessings shed;
Lo! meagre Want uprears her sickly head;
Cloth'd are the naked, and the needy glad,
While selfish Avarice alone is sad.
Proud coaches pass, regardless of the moan
Of infant orphans, and the widow's groan;
While Charity still moves the walker's mind,
His lib'ral purse relieves the lame and blind.
Judiciously thy half-pence are bestow'd,
Where the laborious beggar sweeps the road.
Whate'er you give, give ever at demand,
Nor let old age long stretch his palsy'd hand.
Those who give late are importun'd each day,
And still are teas'd because they still delay.
If e'er the miser durst his farthings spare,
He thinly spreads them through the public square,
Where, all beside the rail, rang'd beggars lie,
And from each other catch the doleful cry;
With heav'n, for two-pence, cheaply wipes his score,
Lifts up his eyes, and hastes to beggar more.
Where the brass knocker, wrapt in flannel band,
Forbids the thunder of the footman's hand;
Th' upholder, rueful harbinger of death,
Waits with impatience for the dying breath;
As vulture, o'er a camp, with hov'ring flight,
Snuff up the future carnage of the fight.
Here canst thou pass, unmindful of a pray'r,
That heav'n in mercy may thy brother spare?
....................................................................................................................................................................
Texture with my deepest gratitude to Emma_Cox : texture-110 Thank you very much !!
I really don't. But my girlfriend thought it be funny to draw it on my arm so I could walk around campus with it all day. Like the lighting and the colors.
Exactly one week ago 2 new little kids came home!
I bought a new and bigger cage and now Goku can share his moments with Chichi & Bulma!
(names are all from Dragon Ball! :)
2 females and one male, those male birds are like cocks in the roost, there can be only one!
They seem to like themselves….I wonder if we will soon see chicks!
I chose a sea background and even if they are not free at least they are three!
[15:53] Fenna DeCuir had followed him a while, cris crossing the place and eventually she walked right up to him. When she came to a halt, there was still a respectable distance between the two. Eyes narrowed as she titled her head from the right to the left, eyeing him. ''YEAH FUCKFACE BETTER DROP THAT WEAPON. WOULD HATE TO END UP SHOOTING YOU IN THE HEAD WITH IT INSTEAD OF CHOKING YOU WITH YER LARGE INTESTINE!'' she called out loud enough for the scientist to hear.
[15:56] Laurick Scarbridge just held the rifle up on his shoulder as he looked at Fenna with a quirked brow. The red head tapped the body of the rifle on the side of his head, smiling brightly as that woman blocked his path. He continued to move forward without much regard for her and leaned forward when he arrived at the first bump - leaning forward as he tilted his head, "Oh my, you. I wasn't expecting /you/ just yet. Not in this weather!" he said as the rain hit the waters that surroudned them.
[15:59] Fenna DeCuir: ''The weather, reflects my mood. It rains. I want it to be raining men.'' she paused, dark twinkle in her eyes. ''Dead men.'' she wouldnt move back as he walked closer, nor would she move towards him. Hand reached down and she unhooked the heavy chain from her thighband. Only to wrap the first couple of shackles around the knuckles of her right hand. ''Pussy.'' she said then, grinning.
[16:01] Laurick Scarbridge quirked a brow as she wrapped the chain around her hand. He glanced down at the weapon in his right hand and shrugged his shoulders as he tossed the stock rifle into the water. His hands moved to wrap around his back as he hopped over the first ridge and then continued to move toward toward Fenna with a large smile on his face, "I'm surprised you agreed to these terms, that I am. We'll see - we really will. I don't think you'll be happy with the outcome, though."
[16:05] Fenna DeCuir smirked. ''Oh, I know that. Would love to put your cock into the meatgrinder once I am done with you, too bad I have none here.'' she shrugged, nodded at the water. ''Guess the sharks will have to do the trick then..'' she moved forwards then herself, slowly. One step after the other, though this just lasted for a moment. Fenna then took a sprint, swung the heavy rusty chain through the air and would attempt to hit him right against the face. '''Lets not talk. HUH!''
[16:07] Laurick Scarbridge held his hands behind his back as Fenna advanced and continued to talk. He just smiled that large grin. For once, the red head didn't open his mouth. When Fenna came forward with the chain he actually ducked down and attempted to avoid the damage. Fenna would notice right away something off about his reflex speed. Judging by the speed which with he moved, he had some sort of augmentation in his knees .. or at least his joints. Once the chain had moved out of his range, he backed up, hopefully, before she could continue to swing once more. His right hand raised up and he tutted his finger at Fenna and winked.
[16:11] Fenna DeCuir wouldnt think of any sort of augumentation. She probably thought he was an alien and the fact that he ducked, just fueled her anger more. Expression darkened instantly, low growl was released from her throat. The tree they were standing on, got more slippery by the rain and for a moment she nearly lost balance. She jumped back though and ended up into a crouch, one hand placed in front of her while the other still had that chain. She stood up then, slowly and would indeed try to hit him again. ''FIGHT THEN ASSHOLE!!''
[16:16] Laurick Scarbridge stood up straight right after she had crouched down after the failed attack. Laurick continued to back away from Fenna as she would likely chase him down the pipeline like a crazy woman spinning a chainlink .. chain. The red head glanced behind him as he hopped back over the various ridges, just taking enough care not to trip. The winds started to pick up and almost knock him off balance as his hair was now soaked from the rain. He stopped and looked back toward Fenna to see exactly what she would do now. His balance was starting to wane with increase in the weather conditions - the pipes being incredibly slippery.
[16:22] Fenna DeCuir 's hoodie was soaked, as was her shirt. Nope, not wearing a bra. She grunted when he moved back and instantly began to chase him. Run, hop, run, hop. Using the chain as if it were a lasso. Slicing through the air as she rush over to the man. ''BUG!!'' she yelled and tried to hit him against the ear before quickly pulling back. Hit or not, she would then simply try to throw him off balance by jumping forwards in an attempt to push him down. And yes, would it work she'd go down too.
[16:24] Laurick Scarbridge the chain missed again as Laurick's head movement seemed to be rather impressive. Apparently he was good at dodging physical strikes. It was the combination that got him. Fenna's double up with the takedown had been enough to nail him. Laurick's right foot mis-stepped after he dodged the chain and when she'd thrown her shoulder into his armored abdomen his whole body lost control and his right leg collapsed. The red head's back collided with the pipeline and his radio bashed against the metal and splattered into the water beside them. The splash got into his right eye, and rolled down his cheek. He started to laugh. That same laugh that he always laughed as Fenna now had top position over him.
[16:31] Fenna DeCuir winced only briefly when the two of them found a quick way down to the pipeline. She would now straddle him, eyes rolled back a moment and she released a low feral hiss. Anger, hate those were the feelings she was most familiar with and this man seemed to just know how to trigger her. With the chain still wrapped about her knuckles she tried to throw a right hook straight for his jaw since she was still on top right now. ''DONT FUCKING LAUGH!!!'' she screamed in anger and frustration.
[16:33] Laurick Scarbridge hadn't moved to remove her from the mount position that she had on his abdomen, but he had positioned himself so it was difficult for her to move up. When she sat up and threw that right hook right to his face with the chain - it connected. The red head's cheek made a dull thudding noise, and almost immediately started to turn red. But as she started to retract her fist he sat up. He sat up and looked straight into her eyes with that strange heterochromic gaze - the large smile on his lips - and winked at her. If she'd made another aggressive movement toward him, Laurick would attempt to wrap his arms underneath of her armpits and hook his hands together to pull her down toward the ground to stifle her movements the best that he could.
[16:38] Fenna DeCuir would of course make another aggressive movement. She was Fenna after all. And Fenna was angry. Lips twitched when her first connected, but this wasn't enough. She wanted blood. She wanted alot of blood. The fact that he was smiling at her, pissed her off more. '
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