Be Persistent, Yes But...

It is important to be persistent and squarely focused on achieving one's goals but it is more important to have faith while pursuing those goals. Work motivated by faith is void of anxiety. Nothing kills a well-intentioned plan or idea quite like anxious energy. And it's annoying.

We got nuttin' but love for you, Heavy!

Since last night and through this morning I've been contemplating the words, "I can't breathe. I can't breathe." Reportedly, those were the last words of the iconic Heavy D. It is said that he was in distress before he died yesterday afternoon.

My heart is filled with sadness for his family and friends. I've been pausing periodically to send them my love through prayer. It all seems so unfair. Too final. Abrupt.

The first person I called when I got the breaking news from allhiphop.com was Timothy Jones. Tim and I headed the hip hop conference at Howard University (1991-96) and it was the hip hop conference that served as background for me having met Heavy D in the first place, 20 years ago. I was president of the conference and Heavy D was one of the biggest names in hip hop. We dedicated the conference to the several people that tragically lost their lives at the City College basketball game that Hev and Sean Combs promoted (Diddy was known as "Puffy" at the time). I remember Hev being consistently gracious. A gentle giant.

I didn't know Heavy D, I only met him. I loved what I saw, though: warmth, skill, talent, adaptability, a bright light, and some serious dance moves, LOL! He was fun and kind. A peer, he was my generation's version of "Mr. Big Stuff," and he was also my generation's version of Mr. Good Stuff. Meaning, Heavy embodied a spirit that reminded us to have fun and to dance, but without being silly or mindless or irresponsible. And to be cool at it.

Life has an unapologetic way of reminding us what's not promised. Death can come at any time, whether you do good work or not. Whether you pray, meditate, work out, eat healthy, tuck your children in at night, give tithes, meet your deadlines at work, call your loved ones just say "hi," go to yet another meeting, catch up on your reading, say a kind word, vote, protest, boycott, fight back...or not. Death is the victor every time so how we live our lives matters. Abrupt transitions like this give pause to the living.

I'm reminded of the book of Ecclesiastes from the Bible. It is one of the sacred text that I turn to when things seem out of order. In it, Solomon contemplates the meaning of life. He takes a mental journey that is profoundly philosophical. In the end, we are reminded that, when all things are surveyed, it's best to live happy, enjoy work, and to have faith. And there is no way to have enduring faith without doing the work - be it spiritual work, intellectual work, political work, and the heavy-lifting work that is required to be women and men of good character.

Because I know that the sun shines on both the oppressed and the oppressors, my life is committed to preventing love deserts in my family and in my community. It's complex and it's hard work, but I'm not here to do much else.

Public Enemy at work. Heavy D at play. Bididilly-bididilly-didilly-didilly dee...or however you spell that thing he did. Hip hop heads know what I'm talkin' 'bout, LOL!

Thank you, sir. Thank you for sharing your talents
with us and reminding us, in your last tweet, to "be inspired."
We totally are. We got nuttin' but love for you, Heavy!

We wish you a peaceful journey.

Dwight Errington Myers aka Heavy D

(May 27, 1967 - November 8, 2011)

A few of my fav Heavy D videos are posted at

www.Facebook.com/AprilRSilverUnlimited

"And if you cannot work with love..."

We're in the last quarter of 2011 and I can't believe how turbulent it's been. In this 9th month, I'm looking back at months of loss, death, fatigue, mistakes, and worst of all betrayal by people who I thought were compassionate human beings. I feel as though I was born all over again, at 43; as though I just arrived on planet earth; as though I was made to learn some of life lessons from scratch, like a new born.

 

And most of the turbulence this year has been centered around work - or from people at work, or from the fact that there is so much work, that I can't ever seem to get a break from work, or that people don't want to pay for work, or that people disrespect my work. Rarely a minute to exhale. I do understand why some people seek refuge. Some do it by partying, with addictions, through seclusion. We all need exit routes.

 

But then Khalil comes to mind. He has been a source of clarity since I was introduced to him by my father in my teenage years. I hope this excerpt from The Prophet helps you as it did me this morning.

...Speak to us of

Work.

And he answered, saying:

You work that you may keep pace with

the earth and the soul of the earth.

...

You have been told also that life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.

And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,

And all urge is blind save where there is knowledge,

And all knowledge is vain save where there is work,

And all work is empty save where there is love;

And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.

...

Work is love made visible.

And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.

For if you break bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man's hunger...

-- Khalil Gibran

Lebanese Poet, Philosopher, and Artist (1883 - 1931)

“Sing Your Song”: Harry Belafonte on Art & Politics, Civil Rights & His Critique of President Obama

Get Rid of "Communication Debt"

Get out of what I call "communication debt." If you owe someone a return phone call or email, set aside time (every day if you have to) to get ride of those debts. Even if your reply email is to say "It's going to take a little extra time for me to get back to you. I'm unusually busy right now..." then do that. And be sure to connect when things slow down (in other others, mean what you say).

There's not much value in having people you care about think that you're ignoring them. And as a business person, you don't want colleagues and/or clients thinking that you can't manage your time. I learned the hard way. It's a horrible reputation to have. I've since learned to pace myself, touch base (even if only for a moment), and temper people's expectations. The less I owe, the lighter I feel. Works for me just fine! 

Here's to releasing that heavy load of your back. Make that call or reply to that email today.

I Host a Screening of "I Will Follow" THIS SATURDAY

I am happy to make this special announcement about the film "I Will Follow" and the fact that I'm hosting a screening THIS SATURDAY in New York City at 6pm (all details below).

Shout out to ImageNation for doing great work and for helping to market the hell out of this indie film :-)
--

April R. Silver of AKILA WORKSONGS, Inc.
to Will Host a Screening of the Film
I WILL FOLLOW
March 19, 2011 (THIS SATURDAY)

at the 34th Street AMC Theater
in New York City

Silver is proud to support the efforts of ImageNation and Urbanworld in presenting the New York City theatrical release of the critically acclaimed film "I Will Follow," starring Salli Richardson-Whitfield, Omari Hardwick, Blair Underwood and Beverly Todd.

ImageNation [www.imagenation.us] and Urbanworld [www.urbanworld.com] are members of the African American Film Festival Releasing Movement (AFFRM).

*ABOUT THE FILM*
Maye (Richardson-Whitfield) is a success. Hot career. Hot boyfriend. But when her world is turned upside down by tragedy, she must struggle to keep her balance. "I Will Follow" chronicles a day in the life of a woman at a crossroads, and the twelve people who help her move forward into a brave, new world.

"I Will Follow" is written and directed by 2011 NAACP Image Award nominee AVA DuVERNAY.

WHEN: March 19, 2011

WHERE: AMC Loews 34th Street (located at 312 W. 34 Street, between 8th & 9th Avenues in New York City)

SHOWTIME: 6:00pm

BUY TICKETS at https://www.fandango.com/transaction/ticketing/redvines/ticketboxoffice.aspx?date=3%2F11%2F2011&tid=AAQCR&mid=142279&row_count=0

ABOUT AFFRM:
AFFRM's mission is to foster and further Black films through theatrical distribution beyond the studio system, powered by the nation's finest African-American film festival organizations. For more information, visit www.affrm.com

April R. Silver Waives Speaking Fees

Social Entrepreneur • Activist • Writer/Editor
APRIL R. SILVER
Waives Honorarium
through April 3, 2011 *


For Women's History Month and beyond, social entrepreneur, activist, and writer/editor April R. Silver announces that she will waive her speaking fee for select engagements, regardless of location, through April 3, 2011.

Silver is a respected entrepreneur and activist who has been speaking publicly on the national scene since her student activism days at Howard University. For years, she has moderated panels, given career day presentations, keynoted at college graduations and conferences, and more. She has also addressed non-profits and conducted business workshops for both aspiring and established entrepreneurs. Working seamlessly as a social justice activist, an entrepreneur, and an arts marketing specialist, Silver presents topics that are varied but have a common thread: self-improvement, community improvement, and improving with integrity. Her short bio is below.


Select presentations for this promotion:

• Arts+Activism 101
• Art, Culture, Media as Tools for Change
• Hip Hop Culture: The Good, The Bad, & What's Powerful
• Black Men and Fatherhood: The Untold Story of Black Men Who Love
• The Life and Leadership of Harriet Tubman
• Essential Communications: What Makes You Special?

Now is a cost effective time to tap into Silver's life/work experiences. For the next several weeks, you can bring Silver to your conference, prison, library, college campus, special event, and/or community center without having to pay her standard speaking fee. *

BRING APRIL TO YOUR EVENT TODAY.
Inquire Now: Special Offer Ends April 3, 2011
Contact Drake Holliday at drake@akilaworksongs.com
or call 718.756.8501 (toll free: 866.570.9499)

ABOUT APRIL
April R. Silver is a social entrepreneur, activist, and writer/editor. She is also Founder and President of AKILA WORKSONGS, Inc., a leading communications and management agency headquartered in New York. The company specializes in "arts and activism" public relations, marketing, and programming (a phrase that Silver is credited with popularizing). The former talk show host of My Two Cents (on BETJ, now known as Centric TV) is also editor of Be A Father to Your Child: Real Talk from Black Men on Family, Love, and Fatherhood, a critically acclaimed anthology. Silver believes that art must be intertwined with one's pursuit for self knowledge and community empowerment if the pursuit is to be meaning and enduring.

Silver's experiences and achievements in the fields of social justice and entrepreneurship have been widely documented for over twenty years. Susan L. Taylor, Editor-in-Chief Emeritus of Essence magazine and Founder of National CARES Mentoring Movement, calls April "a spirited and visionary leader."

True to her nature, the Gemini founded Put On BLAST!®, an email/online marketing service created to share news, events, and opinions for and by artists and activists. The database features thousands of email list subscribers, Facebook friends, Twitter followers, and LinkedIn connections. Consistently popular since its launch in 1997, the service has helped place Silver as a trusted voice in new media communications amongst progressive and creative communities.

Silver's writings have been published in the NY Daily News, daveyd.com, allhiphop.com, Words.Beats.Life: Global Journal of Hip Hop Culture, and more. In 2010, she served as Managing Editor for "A New Way Forward: Healing What's Hurting Black America" a manual on mentoring and healing, edited by Susan L. Taylor.
----
Find out what April is up to on Facebook, Twitter, or visit her personal website at www.aprilRsilver.com. For other lecturers managed by AKILA WORKSONGS, email speakers@akilaworksongs.com

________________________________________

* Business workshops are excluded. Travel and hotel accommodations are separate and apart from speaking fees. Expenses for round trip travel (ground, train, or air) and hotel (if applicable) are not waived and are the responsibility of the booking entity. For the "Black Men and Fatherhood" presentations, book purchase is required. All engagements also require a written agreement. Drake Holliday is available to answer all inquiries.

Photo by Michael Scott Jones

Quote of the Week: Rumi

"Let the beauty of what you love be what you do."

Rumi

Thanks to Mo Beasley for introducing me to Rumi.

When Spirit Leads...

Right after the Haiti earthquakes, Kevin Powell and I organized several Help Haiti events and this one in particular was early April 2010. As a co-organizer of the community forum, I was supposed to arrive early to help set up. I was running late and wasn't very happy about that.

I hustled from the train station to the Brooklyn Historical Society where the event was being held and for no reason at all, the well-being of Marie Eusebe (a good friend from my college days at Howard University) came front and center. "I wonder how Marie is doing?" The second question was "Where the hell did that random thought come from?" I had not seen or talked to Marie in at least 5 years. So I paid no attention to this peculiar sense and continued to rush to the venue.

I checked in with everyone, and everyone was on point: my team had set up the sign in/info table, the co-organizers were handling their responsibilities, the media crew was setting up, and all was going reasonably well. That gave me a moment to go to the ladies room, get my head together, relax my shoulder, and mediate on the people of Haiti. As a co-organizer and panelist, I needed a space where I could de-program and review my notes.

At some point, another woman either walked into the bathroom or came out one of the stalls. Because I was totally in my own head, I didn't zone in on her, but the moment I lifted my head to fix my face in the bathroom mirror, she called my name, "April Silver?? It's Marie Eusebe!!"

I stared at her in disbelief. How is it that I think of her just moments ago and she appears? In the ladies room, no less, I wondered.

To make matters even more phenomenal, she said "You are not going to believe this, but you ran across my mind the other day. Out of the blue...and now I see that you're doing this panel. How weird is that?"

I go on to tell her that for no apparent reason at all, her spirit came to me in the form of a question, as I was rushing from the subway. We spent the next few minutes marveling at the power of spirit and the realness of how connected we are. We were both amazed, but not fully. Actually, she and I shared thoughts on how our spirit selves have a way of getting what they need from our human shells, whether it makes sense to us or not.

Today, on the eve of the anniversary of the earthquake that devastated Haiti this time last year, I'm not thinking about - at least for this moment - all the political turmoil, the fraud, the exploitation, the disease, nor the chaos that has gripped the great island nation of Haiti. Instead I'm meditating on the hundreds of thousands of people of African ancestry who, in a matter of minutes, made their transition when the forces of nature shook the earth. In a matter of minutes, Haiti became the center of the world and, by and large, the focus was all wrong. The public and media chatter talked so much about what Haiti wasn't. Added to the conversation must be a loud amplification of what Haiti is and has always been. That conversation need not solely focus on an economic context. We, as human beings, are more profound than that one dimension.

Too quickly, Port-Au-Prince became a mass sacred burial ground, yet there is a message in that. We are reminded that spirit will take what it needs from this side in order to restore balance, in order to get us moving in the right direction. It's not a hard conclusion at which to arrive: The depth of devastation in Haiti, currently and throughout history, runs parallel to the gross injustices that she has endured, both from her so-called neighbors and from within. And spirit will not let us forget. Spirit will pull at us and show up in our lives until we restore balance...and get us moving in the right direction.

Tomorrow (January 12), Ms. Eusebe, who is from Haiti, is co-presenting a very special event at the Apollo Theater. The "Hope and A Future: A Benefit Concert for Haiti" will feature music, dance, and spoken word, but it is also a practical, responsible, direct line to offering relief to people in Haiti who have been terribly affected by the earthquake. AKILA WORKSONGS, Inc. is a Community Partner for this event. The Community2Community website explains it all: www.Community2Community.info.

Haitians are a resilient people and they have a lot to teach the world. There is a way to listen and demonstrate support in a way that is respectful and meaningful. Learn more via the Community2Community organization and join us tomorrow at The Apollo.

My Stuff on Trial (Or: The Joy of Letting Go)

What I learned coming into 2011: I have separation anxiety about everything!

Last month, my brother and sister-in-law visited for a weekend, right before Christmas. Omar barely took two steps into my apartment (which he hasn't been in since 2004) and said, "Yeah, you have to get rid of some of this stuff. You're a hoarder." I was mortified.

Prior to his arrival, I had asked him to come prepared to give me his honest opinion about my apartment once he arrived at my place. Don't know what triggered that solicitation, but I knew that I trusted him and that he would be honest...brutally so. But how, on God's green earth, could he call me a hoarder?

"I'm nothing like the people on the TV! Have you seen that show? Are you calling me one of them? " I asked arrogantly.

I was in total shock because, in fact, I am neat, organized, not messy, and definitely not filthy! Feeling attacked, I went on to argue about how orderly my space is; that my office and my home are one in the same. I have simply out-grown the apartment. Things would look quite differently once I separate home and office.

But Omar said I sounded like an alcoholic presenting the case of not being a "sloppy, non-functional alcoholic." He went on to ask, as he eyed the bottom shelf of one of my book cases, "What are you doing with those telephone logs from 1993?" I had a sound reason so I explained and he actually sided with me. But though I was relived, I couldn't deny the fact that perhaps I was holding on to too much stuff. For the first time, I was beginning to see a larger issue.

So I allowed myself to be picked at by Omar and Maria (my sister-in-law). It was surreal. I felt like a rat in a maze: There was hardly a place to escape. For nearly every rationalization, excuse, and reason that I offered as to why, for example, I had so many books (five floor-to-ceiling bookcases...and that's just in the living room), I got trumped. They did, however, cut me some slack on the nostalgic items. When I proudly showed them the outfits that Omar and I were baptized in as babies, my mother's purse from her wedding day, and a baseball glove from Omar's pre-teen era, they conceded. "Sentimental things make sense to keep, but most of this stuff is not sentimental, April." I went on to explain that it was important to me to save items that represent various eras of my life...from childhood to now. "Why is it not okay to save a few things like that?" I pleaded. They didn't argue that point, but they did ask "When was the last time you watched any of these videos in your media cabinet? And do you even own a record player for all this vinyl over here in the corner? And, again...why do you have some many books?" Few people can relate to my love of books.

I began to look at my apartment through a "stranger's" eye. I do have stacks of media (Cd's, DVDs, those VHS tapes, cassette tapes and even one or two 8-tracks...just for the fun of it). My rationale was air tight, I thought. I work in communications. I'm naturally going to have more media than the average person.

"Then why haven't you made a digital conversion? Why don't you have an e-reader? " they asked. My logical (?) response: "I simply haven't gotten around to that yet, but that doesn't mean that I need to throw it all away...right?"

No matter where I scurried, I was losing this tug-of-war. When they asked why wasn't this "stuff" in storage, I said that I don't want that expense. As small business owner, I have better uses of my hard earned money. I'd rather neatly organize and store items in my apartment until such time that I can afford to pay rent on a space that's not generating income.

So my brother offered a solution: "Whatever you can pack up, we'll store in our basement and it won't cost you. We have more than enough space." To his surprise, I had two boxes ready to go the next morning. A few weeks later, I had four more boxes ready to ship. I have come to admit that all this stuff is more than I need.

Since Omar and Maria's pricking, I have been examining my behavior like a mad woman. My issues are glaring and I'm feeling quite naked during this first week of 2011. I have control and trust issues, my need to be self-reliant and always prepared is a tad abnormal (at this very moment, for example, my make up bag has everything in it from safety pins to mouthwash), and I have an obsession with "not letting go." For me, its tantamount to betraying the past (and if you know my work as an activist, then perhaps you can appreciate the symbolism here).

So today, I paused from work to confront my magazine collection that has been stacked in my closet since 1992 or so. I can't fully explain why I have so many issues of Essence, Ebony, Vibe, The Source, Black Enterprise, American Legacy, Black Scholar, and other magazines. Nor can I explain what I'm going to do with the vintage comic books that I have neatly stored in the other closet. Whatever the reasons, I'm examining them all...and letting go. Over the years, I have rationalized that I need these magazines, and books, and phone logs to document my journeys, to recall our culture, to re-visit important past stories - in my personal life and in my community. I have rationalized that, as a writer, I need to be able to reference this media content for all the books that I'll someday write.

Wow. I heard myself, in that moment, explain this to myself and all I could say was "Wow! You, old gurl, are a coward." I can now admit that I'm probably the neatest hoarder there is, but a hoarder nonetheless. I don't know if I would have come to that realization if it were not for the unintended intervention from my family and an episode of "Enough Already! with Peter Walsh" that I watched today on OWN. Kind of freaked me out.

Now my 'not wanting to let go' has come to symbolize all the blockage in my life, all the things that are not growing creatively, not growing in my love life, and not growing in my business. So I'm excited at the shedding that will take place this year. I can't think of a better way to blossom.

Quote of the Week: Sekou Sundiata

"Good things come to those who wait.
Better things comes to those who don't."
~  Sekou Sundiata

When You Feel Insufficient

What do you do when everything you offer seems insufficient; when you have made your point and you are STILL mis-understood; when you have decided to make improvements in your life and nothing seems shifts for the better; when none of your burdens are light and you just need some help? What do you do?? Try this and see if it helps:

Be still, get quiet. Relax your shoulders and breathe. Slowly. Cry if you need to. Know that there are solutions to every problem.

And it may be worth asking yourself: Does the blockage start with me? Am I in my own way? Do I need to be more patient, less controlling? Have I overstayed my welcome? Am I as forthright as I think I am? Is my communication clear? Where have I been too quiet? Am I acting or re-acting out of pain or hurt? Would my life be easier if I just ask for support? Shall I just move on?

When I express myself, am I honest and at peace?

When I get stuck and coiled, when I start having these overwhelming urges to cry (and nothing comes out), when I start losing things, and when the clutter piles up on my desk, then I know that it's time for me to be still, get quiet; relax my shoulders and breathe. I close my eyes, humble my head, and I visualize a bright light.

I pray for grace for all my known and unknown flaws. I conjure up a list of all the things I don't want to do, but must. I bring to the forefront all the people and feelings that I don't want to engage, but should. I wrap all them up with courage and promise to not run away. I visualize healthy closure, knowing healthy sometimes tastes bitter. I focus still on the shoulders, where many of us carry our heavy burdens. Deep breathes really do help.

And then I say: "If I am still here, then its for a good reason. I will trust the good in that reason, even if I don't understand it at this moment. Right now, there are things that I can not see and things that I don't yet know that are working in my ultimate favor. When I need to be open and uncoiled, I will be that. When I need to shut down and shut out, I will honor that too. In all, I will respect the power in my life, seek balance, and make progress...every day that I am here."

And then I expect the blessings to flow. They always do.

Lovingly,
ars.

"Daddy’s Girl and Her Music"

Late last summer, Words.Beats.Life invited me to write an essay about my relationship to my father and hip hop. It's not as weird as it seems. I'm publishing it here today for his b'earthday. Happy Birthday, Daidy.

Daddy's Girl and Her Music"

“Don’t give up now, baby.
You’re closer to your goal than you were yesterday.” -- Eddie Silver


I first heard these words from my father decades ago, and I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about or when. I just remember how relieved I was in that moment to catch one of Mr. Silver’s many pearls of wisdom. It’s most likely that he was trying to help me figure out what to do with my life as I prepared to head off to college. That was a gut-wrenching period for me and I was overwhelmed and excited by the sheer scope of it all. At 18, I was gladly leaving Los Angeles to return to the East Coast to attend an all-Black university in Washington, D.C., but I was also fearful of starting a new life alone, without the immediate safe haven of my close-knit family.

Still, my game plan was airtight: I would go to college, get my degree in English, and become a successful writer at ESSENCE. In fact, I would become one of the magazine’s most respected writers. Along the way, I would return to New York (where I was born) and begin working on the first of many books. I had no crisp idea of my subject matter, but I knew at least one of them would be Susan Taylor-esque. She would write my foreword, of course. That was my criteria for success, period.

“Daidy” (how my brother and I pronounce “Daddy” to this day), on the other hand, wanted me to study journalism and maybe become a television anchor. “You could be like a Connie Chung for Black people, big time on the big screen,” he said. Even then, I suspected that I was too passionate for the field of journalism so I frowned on that career choice. Daidy was supportive regardless. Both of my parents were. College life was new territory for all of us and we were open-minded. My parents were banking on the fact that they had “raised me right,” and so they gave me room to breathe. That was circa 1986.

Fast forward to 1989: Daidy finally got to see his daughter on the big screen. I was also in the local and national newspapers, in Ebony magazine, and all over the radio in D.C. and throughout the region. I’d even made international news. In fact, I was in the news quite a bit, but as a subject, not a journalist.

In early March 1989, I played a visible leadership role among the students who successfully took over the administration building (the “A” building) at Howard. We forged a non-violent student protest that shut down the school for three days. Picture unarmed occupying students in black tams, with more courage than fear, standing against police in riot gear, helicopters, SWAT teams, lights, cameras, and a herd of television reporters. We were the breaking news stories of the week (and as head of one of the student organizations that called for the protest, I was the designated spokesperson). To further buck the system and all its “nice” symbols, days before the actual takeover we had boldly interrupted the high-class pomp and circumstance of convocation. Bill Cosby was the keynote speaker. Surrounded by a sea of silk and velvet robes, we politely told Mr. Cosby that he had to get off the stage. We had some business to conduct with our beloved university. At that moment, I took the microphone and started breaking down our demands to a group of gasping elders. I was surrounded by defiant students--on the stage, in the aisles, in the auditorium lobby. Not exactly what Daidy had in mind, I’m sure.

But as any loving father would be, Daidy was focused on my total well-being. In the one or two times that I had a chance to call home to explain why I was all over the news, I had to assure my parents that I was safe (which wasn’t entirely true). Daidy was less concerned about why we were organized against Lee Atwater (then the controversial chairman of the Republican National Committee and a newcomer to the board of trustees at Howard) but more concerned about whether or not we knew what we were doing, if I firmly believed in this cause. He, along with my mother, questioned why I was fighting against the school that I had come to love so much. I told my parents: “We’re taking over the ‘A’ building because we love Howard. We know it can do better by us.” That was enough for them.

* * * *

I doubt that Daidy was terribly surprised about how deep-rooted my convictions were or that they blossomed while away at school. He already knew their origins. It was under my parents’ roof that I learned to think outside the box and to stand up for what I believe in. It was under their roof that my brother and I grew up studying Black history, beyond what was taught in our classrooms. And equally significant, it was my father’s record collection that introduced me to the sweetness of being Black. I grew up somewhat obsessed with this collection, most of which I took with me when I went left home, unbeknownst to him. Whatever artist Daidy loved, I loved. Whatever song he knew, I sang. Whatever he had, I preserved. It was his Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, James Brown, Nina Simone, Isaac Hayes, Earth Wind & Fire and Hugh Masekela albums that helped me uncover the value of what Black people have created with our own talents and skills, be it music or institutions of higher learning such as Howard. It was the liner notes of his albums that I studied on Saturday mornings after the chores were done. Sprawled across the carpet, I played those songs over and over again, ear up close to the speaker, memorizing not just the lyrics but the names of the musicians, songwriters, and recording studios. I don’t know why the back-stories for these albums were so important to me, even as a teenager. I didn’t have plans for how to use this information. I realize now that this studying was my attempt to be totally immersed in the souls of Black folks via our creativity, something that I can now articulate from a spiritual context.

So by the time I first heard hip-hop music, I was primed for my lifelong journey into another level of Black genius music. My father’s love of our music prepped me for Public Enemy, KRS-One, X-Clan, Queen Latifah, Poor Righteous Teachers, Sister Souljah (her 360 Degrees of Power was the first album on which I got my first shout-out), and many others. Daidy played a large role in why hip-hop felt so natural to me.

Rewind to 1982. I was as hooked as any other Sasson Jeans wearing teenager when Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five released “The Message.” So was Daidy. It seemed that everyone could relate. “Yeeeah! People do piss in the station like they just don’t care. Broken glass is everywhere.” As though he was relieved that somebody put his feelings to music, my father used “The Message” to affirm some cruel realities: Life is hard, especially for Black men, he taught me. Some people do live on the edge. Everybody is trying to keep from going under. “Your Daidy can relate.” These conversations would sometimes be sprinkled with stories about how he used to hang out with Kurtis Blow when hip-hop was new on the scene. “Really?” I asked, all smiles. But in my head I was laughing out loud. “Sure, Daidy. You know Kurtis Blow.

* * * *

Life is hard. Growing up, I would come to understand this “thing” about being Black. As a child, I digested the music, television, and movies that seemed to prove that Black people were different from white people. We are at a deficit in this thing called “society” because of a thing called “racism.” It seems that our lives warrant the need for constant reminders that we are “okay,” or that we should not give up, or that we should stick together, presumably against white people or “The Man,” because nobody likes us in this world. I came to understand that music was our healing ointment and it is an acceptable way for us to entertain ourselves, this so-called despised lot that we are. We can be affirmed and stay bonded with one another through music. “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now” by McFadden and Whitehead (the Black people family picnic theme song during the 1970s), “We Are Family” by Sister Sledge (ditto), and so many other songs helped make our “different” lives bearable. Without thinking about it, I had come to an understanding that music, art and culture were supposed to be functional, not merely entertaining. We needed something just to get by if we were going to make it in this world and our creativity seemed to be as good a hook as any.

* * * *

I don’t remember a great number of politically charged father-daughter talks growing up, but we have many now. And as a child, I don’t recall Daidy telling many stories about him marching with Dr. King (though he did). There were certainly no social justice organizations that took up his time after work. That wasn’t his thing. Daidy has always been a quiet, simple man who likes to cook, tend to his vegetable garden, read the newspapers, and have a good time. What was brilliant to me growing up, however, was the foundation that he helped provide. A visionary man of humble beginnings from Suffolk, VA, he took pride in his ability to help feed, clothe, and shelter his family. Often, we took family vacations so that our lives were well-rounded and meaningful.

As in any family, mine had drama too, but we had a sacred anchor and we remain committed to one another. Individually, our personalities and lifestyles seem incompatible, but where it matters most, we are fiercely unified. And that’s how I relate to my community-at-large. We are worth the struggle and we are closer to getting what we want and need out of life, if we fight the right fight. That thinking sculpted my political behavior as a student activist when I co-founded the nation’s first hip hop conference (there had not yet been any connection of hip hop to the academy); it sculpts the way in which I handle my business as a social entrepreneur who primarily services people of African ancestry. That thinking also drives me personally. Like a mad woman bridled with child-like giddiness, I’m excited to tell this particular Daddy’s girl story, lest somebody keep telling a singular, narrowed–minded story about a generation of Black fathers and the music they made room for.

# # #

"Daddy's Girl and Her Music" was written at the request of Words.Beat.Life / www.wblinc.org. Stay tuned for when the edition featuring this essay will be published. Enjoy.

POETRY: "Grandma Mae Said" Haiku

Looka here lil gurl,
When throwed up against a wall
Even cats fight back.

Copyright 2010, April R. Silver

"Will Whore for Fame"

A few personal stories have emerged in recent weeks, and as early as this morning, that have reminded me that fame has a dark ability to transform smart people into fools, and some fools into whores. As a professional in the PR and marketing field, I used to say that it is my job to make people famous. In lay people's terms, I am a publicist. That means that clients hire my company to make their visions known to the world. I have to re-write my job description.

It is not my choice to make people famous. My role is deeper and more enduring than that. I work to have people and their projects respected. I start each day so that fame is a consequence of my clients' life/work. If I merely wanted to make clients famous, I could tell them to create silly videos and we'd post them on YouTube. They could become instantly known to hundreds of thousands of people who do not know them right now. But I work differently. I ride my clients about sustaining, at all cost, their already high levels of excellence. I ride them about being thorough, accountable, and efficient in all that they do. I remind them that they must care about the responsible marketing of their work as much as they care about the work itself. Not all press is good press (I have never agreed with that age-old adage). Instead, all our press must have a positive purpose and it must be strategic.


***

I have come to learn that high achievers have big egos and they have extraordinary ambition. They tend to see further, wider, and deeper than most people. With that comes a parallel desire to be heard, seen, read, and/or understood. I am happy to say that I have seen people handle their egos ways that are healthy and even humorous. They use their PR currency for more than just their fleeting need to be adored. Those people make my work rather rewarding. I have also seen the ugly. When the cameras o on or when it’s time for Facebook or Twitter, I have watched others become slaves to their need for attention and for stimuli, any kind of stimuli. I’m reminded that there are cheats, liars, and thieves amongst us (seen and unseen) and that some people will do just about anything to override or delete you (consciously or subconsciously) from the conversation.

A mentor once told me, "There's nothing wrong with saying ‘I'm intelligent, powerful, talented, and resourceful.’ There is something wrong, however, if a person can't demonstrate that they sincerely believe that about everyone else, too."

I prefer the truth. I prefer to deal with people whose egos are visible and not hiding under a cloak of false humility. More importantly, I prefer to work with clients and colleagues who do more than value and tolerate other people. I prefer to work with those who appreciate other people. There's a voluminous difference.

Even still, I say let your light shine. Speak clearly. Learn when to whisper and when to shout. And at the heart of it all, keep your hands clean and your path clear. Nothing endures like good character. If there's a difference between what you agree to and what you do, then close that gap. If you express a commitment but don't believe it, then don't say it. If, in the moment, your talk is passionate, full of emotion, and you feel fiercely passionate about what you're saying, then 9 times out of 10, it's just that: a feeling. Dead words are for cowards. The living word is for healers. If you do the work, the respect will come. In the mean time, don't be a fame whore.

Sharks...

Sharks eat fish! In the sea and in business. That is all.

My "Arts & Activism" Interview (A Year Ago Today)

"Throw Your Wallet Over the Fence"

"To Black Women" (An Excerpt)

"To Black Women"
An excerpt from "Invisible Women? A Black Woman’s Response to Don Imus Most Recent Sexist-Racist Remarks" By April R. Silver (April 9, 2007). Revised June 2009


When she reached adulthood, an enslaved African from long ago - Isabella Baumfree - changed her name. We know her now as Sojourner Truth. When Harriet Tubman fully grasped an understanding of the world in which she lived, she began to map out her own survival and that of her family larger community.

Both women, and others like them, were keenly aware of their unique skills, talents, and missions in life. They granted themselves permission to think, organize, speak, and lead. The weight of racism and sexism was ever present for them, but it did not immobile them. When they weren’t invited to help solve or speak about the problems of the day, they crashed the party. They did not wait for any common man or any leader to encourage them to stand up for their right to be free and live well. Tubman, for example, was one of the first social entrepreneurs in our ancestral line. She owned 27 acres of land in upstate New York. She acquired it and other properties so that she could establish safe havens for her family and her community. Truth and Tubman are sacred models of woman leadership, a legacy of power that is our ancestral inheritance.

Though from over a hundred years ago, the examples are relevant today. But we need not dig so far in time to be encouraged and ignited. Fast forward to the 20th and 21st centuries. We have modern models of leadership that range from Camille Yarbrough and Sonia Sanchez to Fannie Lou Hamer and Shirley Chisholm, to countless others. And there are millions of unrecognized Black women who have made a hard decision to combat hate, whenever it emerges.

Ignorance can be combated in various ways. If you are a writer, write on our behalf. Let some of your stories be about helping us heal from this often loveless world. If you are a performer, then dance with us, sing about us…more. If you are an organizer, then embed fairness amongst men and women in everything that you do. And if you are without a means to support yourself at any given time, or without a loving partner to ease the burdens of the day, keep pushing anyway. Never mind about finding fault, “find another way,” as my mother says. In every single aspect of our lives, we must be self-permitted to tell the truth about our lives and stories that shape them. Somebody, quite naturally, is going to be offended in the process. Invariably, someone is going to tell us how wrong we are for focusing on our lives and our stories. But we get to tell the truth regardless of who is offended or is made uncomfortable.

And I strongly believe that we should partner with Black men and anyone else who stands in support of our truth-telling. The battle for the respect of Black women, however, is ours to lead.

Happy Birthday To Me :-)

Welcome to any of my nearly 1300 Facebook friends who may be visiting this site for the first time. My blog site, "aprilisms" is where I houses my writings (essays, poetry...yeah, I write poetry, too. Who knew?).

Because so many of you have stopped by my Facebook page to say "Happy Birthday" (THANK YOU!) and obviously taken the bait from my status update and found yourself here (LOL!), allow me to share one of my more popular pieces, a little didy I wrote four years ago. Tell me what you think.

Forty Backwards
by April R. Silver (2006)

Last month I turned 38. With 40 fast approaching, I’ve been more reflective than usual. I’ve begun to observe life from over my shoulder, glancing back at how things used to be. I’m ever cognizant of how me and my momma’s 40 is going to be so very different. When Jenny B. was my age, she had a 16-year-old daughter, a 15-year-old son, and had been married for 18 years. She came from the “stand by your man” era, when “shacking up” was not nearly as common as it is today.

Dr. King was assassinated the year I was born. Jenny B. wasn’t at a college campus protesting, or in the streets. She was a “country” newcomer living in a big city with a baby. Plus, she had a husband, a house, and a job to manage. Her journey was a proud domestic one, but her little girl would chart a different course.

Unlike my mother, I went to college right after high school. She and daddy insisted. And unlike many of her Baby Booming peers, I have never been married and don’t have any illusions about that institution. Children would be a welcome blessing, but I have chosen not to have any right now because the conditions just ain’t what they should be. I do, however, own my own company...working with artists. That’s about as much nipple-grabbing as I can stand at the moment.

I’m a far reach from my elder’s crown, but I’ve found a few gems to set. Wrote some notes about 'em. Would you like to hear 'em? Here they go:

From Jenny B.
• Always give God the glory in all that you do.
• In whatever you do, you’re either going to spend time or money. Make your best choices knowing that you have to give up one of them, sometimes both.
• You cannot control people’s actions. You can only control your response to those actions.
• There are certain people you have to treat with a long-ladled spoon so that they don’t bite your finger.
• You have to train people how to deal with you. Always be loving and sweet as you let people know that you are not the one to f**k with.
• You cannot depend on me and f**k with me at the same time.
• The best way to get a man is to chase him until he catches you.

My Father, Eddie
• Whenever I lost hope or missed my mark, Eddie Silver, an eternal optimist, would say, “You’re closer today, than you were yesterday, baby!”
• My father’s simplest observations often reveal how discerning he is. I learned from him first, for example, that when dictating a telephone number, “‘O’ is a letter and ‘0’ is a number…as in, “our telephone number is (212) 555-62 "zero" 1, not 62 "oh" 1.
• “Smooth talking men will gladly give nice women like you $20 today because he knows that he’ll get $100 from you tomorrow.” Those were my father’s sober words of wisdom after a nasty breakup from my first BIG relationship. At the time, I didn’t know that the man I was dating was a con artist. Well…I saw him conning other people, but I never thought that he’d con me. How silly. That warning from my father helped me to armor up a bit. Since then, I’ve been suspicious of, not mesmerized by all smooth talkers.
• “If a man greets you on the street and says ‘hi,’ sometimes all he really means is ‘hi.’ He’s not always trying to pick you up. It’s okay to smile back."
• Daddy was the music man of the family. Romping through his record crates ignited my passion for music. My tastes would mirror his…from Nina to Stevie to Hugh to Prince.

My Brother Omar
• There is a quiet innocence and deep-rooted gentleness even in the coarsest of exteriors.
• Sometimes, people don’t want you to give them advice, even if that’s what you do in life. Sometimes they just want you to listen.
• You don’t get what you deserve, you get what you ask for.
• “I don’t work for my boss, I work for my money.”
• “Of course, a woman can get her man to do just about anything...but she can’t make him mean it!”

Lessons From My Ex-Boyfriends and Other Adventurous Episodes
• Men and women are not equal, but we are equivalent. We have different (not inadequate) ways of communicating what we need and want.
• The truth is always used to sell the lie.
• Con artists tend to talk a lot. Overly chatty people are either lying to you or themselves.
• Never date a man that won’t show you his ID or driver’s license.
• Even romantic relationships are about power. They move forward best when both people are on equal footing.
• We are all dating the same man! Despite how loving and different they appear during courtship, there remains one indisputable fact: most (not all) men will eventually reveal themselves to be powerfully self-centered and/or emotionally under-developed. I have found that women who seek romantic love relationships with men - be the women Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Yoruba, Atheist, bohemian, corporate, Black, Latina, Asian, White, under and over 30, big-boned, slim, sweet or tart - have this same problem with men. It’s best to resolve that the depth of a man’s ego is unfathomable. We should stop trying to figure them out because it is never going to make sense how deftly he disregards your once cherished feelings. And if you think that your man is different, please go gather more gems for your crown.

So cheers to the next forty years! And here’s one parting gem that is sure to bring you a sigh of relief:
“Don’t take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.”

- Don Miguel Ruiz (author of “Four Agreements”).


© July 2006, August 2008, April R. Silver