Strange Fruit

Billie Holiday 

Later sang by:  Nina Simone

Southern trees bearing strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the popular trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Songwriters: Abel Meeropol

© MUSIC SALES CORPORATION

So far this year (2019), 480 unarmed black men have been killed by the police.



Police killed 1,166 people in 2018. There were only 23 days in 2018 where no black person died by the hands of the police. Police killed 1,147 people in 2017. Black people were 25% of those killed despite being only 13% of the population.

(https://policeviolencereport.org)

1882 – 1968 documented lynching total is 3,446 blacks (women and men).

(http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/shipp/lynchingsstate.html)

First and foremost today's blog post is not about anyone's guilt or innocence. Yet, like most of my posts, today's blog post is a post of my thoughts, concerns, and feelings with supporting statistics, only intended to entertain, spark conversation, and positively inspire those who read my blog.



When I got up this morning, I must have been clinging on to the night before's dream because I immediately grabbed my grandson and hugged him tighter than I probably ever have. As I hugged him, I felt my pulse speed up, slow down, then speed up again. It was as if I was consoling my little man as he was getting ready to go off to war or something far horrifying like the patty wagons circling around us and demanding my male child. 


Mind you, he is only eight years old for God's sake. 


My grandson didn't pull away from me though, which was a bit shocking. It was as if he knew his granny really meant business. It was as if he could hear my thoughts screaming, “You can not have this one! You will not get this one devil. So get all the way behind us!” 

A Phenomenal Grandmother

Without a second thought, I chose right then and there to totally surrender all of the black men in my family, especially my grandson, to spirit, to God (the God I serve). I had to. By doing so, I realize my men folk will definitely be ​in hands more capable of protecting them, than my hands or any human hands I know. 

You see, because of so many incidents where young black men are/were killed by people who are/were supposed to protect them, I find/found myself constantly on edge. My family members are no different than those who die/died in this senseless manner. 

In fact, just based on my family's unspoken responses, many of them believe several of the victims could have possibly prevented their demise. I can't say this for certain but I believe if retribution wasn't a factor, they would attest to what I believe is true only because most of them try to believe that “justice for all” is a true statement. Bless their hearts! It's like believing “freedom is free”.

Regardless how we all choose to look at it, we all know the TRUTH. We all know that justice isn't for all and freedom definitely isn't free. Strange fruit just keeps getting stranger.

Chaplain Nikki

www.nyasproject.com

A Phenomenal Grandmother

A book written from grandmother to grandson about coming of age in the 21st century as a young black boy, then a young black man from her perspective.