As a conscious African American man, it would be impossible and would not be of my character if I did not express how I feel about the realities that I have always lived with and the ones that have for the first time become a reality for the world.

I have like many others felt the call to go represent us on the front lines.

I have done so and I will again.

Though, the need or urgency to post these photos evade me.

Even looking at them at this point, is difficult.

How can you process history fully, while you're still living through it?

So I refrained.

Sometimes silence can be deafening.

Sometimes the south can be threatening.

The stillness of my surroundings, compounded by the weight of the nation unveiled the reality that even with the world fighting for change for people who like us.....here in Alabama.

We didn't seem to care.

We have accepted our standard of living so long ago, that the idea of a world or at minimum a state where we aren't followed, harassed or in fear of our lives every moment that we step outside of our neighborhood is one that most can not comprehend.

Until recently, neither could I.

My dad was the same age that I am now, twenty-eight during the 92 riots. Escaping the south with a degree that in his eyes meant nothing more than a piece of paper that gave him acceptance into a world that was designed to keep him out. I come from a long line of educators, it has been one of the primary pillars of the southern family. My grandmother always preached and instilled in us the importance of a college degree. Her mother was a teacher and her grandmother’s mother was a slave; in the 1950’s the only way out of Evergreen, Alabama was school. In her eyes, the fewer cards stacked against you the better, and the only way for a black man or woman to get any place of status in this country was through education. Life in the south for us is different.

“things don’t get rebuilt here, they crumble and die”. - Hydreams.

Separate but equal. Racism has always been the most evident below the Mason Dixon line. In most cities in the south, you have the black side and white side of town. The black side of town always being the most run-down and decrepit. The standard of living in the inner cities is more vividly desolate in the south I feel. “Things don’t get rebuilt here, they crumble and die.”….. I was surprised to see nice homes, and backyards when moving to South Central in 2012; no abandoned homes, very few vacant lots, crackheads only came out at night. “L.A. has some of the nicest but dangerous neighborhoods in the world.” I think the only difference is that you don’t have to walk out your door every day and see the poverty so vividly.

A black man in the south without a degree is a “strong back”. You either play football, sell drugs, college, or the state docks. Our worldview doesn’t exist much more than our 8-10 blocks and what is portrayed to us on the television. So my grandmother made it a point to educate all of us and push most of us across the stage. I hate to use this terminology but, below the Mason Dixon line..mentally a lot of us down here are still enslaved.

The generation before us lived with the belief that if we educate and work hard enough we can have a piece of the "American Dream". Maybe for some, but for most, we are for a better word "fucked" from birth. The average household income in Prichard, Alabama for a family of 3 is 25,100 a year according to the most recent census. The minimum wage currently in the state of Alabama is $7.25. Let that sink in. Now explain to me how a family supposed to see any way out of this environment other than education or sports down here.

1981, was the year my dad graduated high school and was also the year of the last recorded lynching in America. Michael Donald, in my hometown of Mobile, Alabama. My father recounts the day very vividly, with his mother quickly rushing him and his brother home inside the house. He spoke of him and his best friend sitting in the yard for a few hours furious at how a 16-year-old classmate could be beaten and hung so brutally. He knew then that this one no place for him. My dad was 17. I am 28, and there have been four unrecorded lynchings ruled "suicides" within the past two weeks alone.

The middle child of five, he was the only one to go to a school outside of Alabama. With the stigma of racism and poverty consistently surrounding him, he always told me coming back was never an option. A graduate of Dillard University, he and two other high school friends found black conciseness through reggae music and the teachings of Marcus Garvey. By graduation day the three of them had committed to a life outside of “Babylon” and saw no need to return to the outdated ways of southern culture.

They grew their locks, took on African names, changed their diets, and moved to Los Angeles, shortly after graduating. Pops instilled me at an early age, the Garvey teachings of “the man who can’t get work, make work”. Even with college degrees, no one was hiring black men with dreadlocks at the time and my father not being one to quit went into business for themselves, opening “Know thyself Bookstore & Screen printing Shop” one of if not the first on King Blvd. They watched first hand, the Rodney King tape as it was broadcasted live and gathered together as the verdict came down and the city burned.

To be California born and southern raised is to see two sides of America’s coin.
"The only difference between Birmingham and Los Angeles, is the police call you Nigger down here when they beat you up.” - Malcom X. In retrospect I feel my parents chose inadvertently racism over the gang violence that encompassed Los Angeles in the 90s. I’ve grown to operate in both worlds and understand the desperate need for change across the board in our communities. Moving forward my goal is to create content and moments that invoke the change I want to see in the world.

Sincerely,

Tim “Menyelek” Coleman - aka Hydreams.