As we did last year, once more you can win some of our swag (legal stuff: only U.S. and Canadian residents--I will have some prizes for folks across the pond if they should win; and no P.O. boxes).
Courtesy of the good people at Hachette Book Group the best 3 confessionals will each receive the following 3 books (get it? 3 winners get 3 books each):
- The autobiography FOXY by the and only Pam Grier
- The health and wellness guide The Remedy by Supa Nova Slo
- And Queen Latifah's book, Put on Your Crown
Oh he has come again. As I searched the darkest corners of the Internet well past my normal hour of sleep I heard a rhythmic tapping. At first I thought it was my neighbors engaged in furtive lovemaking. The rhythm became louder, more compelling, and familiar. It was then that a great light shined at me, blinding me with its power! No, it could not be. I knew that he had disappeared from his anointed crypt in the mortal world. Something told me that he walked the Earth once more. But could it be? It was not February. Black History Month had past. As my eyes adjusted I could see him. It was true! My vision was real! The Permed One had returned! James Brown, the patron Saint of our people stood before me. I bowed to him and he let me touch his magical robe. Brother James then spoke as only he could:
Go to the people and spread my word Brother Chauncey. It is not only during February that my church must exist, that negroes everywhere must be free to confess their secret shames and sins of black authenticity at all times. Once more, this is the time I have selected, this first week of April. For we have so much to share since Brother Obama has been elected. Present my word and spread it for now it is time to come together in community!
Shaken I stood forth and promised to follow through on his commandment. Once more, I bring to you the Church of James Brown and offer our space to confess your secret sins of those things respectable negroes pretend to like in the name of blackness but secretly loathe; those thoughts we keep to ourselves for fear of White folk hearing them; our secret anger and rage. Come unburden yourself my respectable negro friends and family.
In our sacred words:
"Oh most amazing James Brown, greatest of all negroes, I offer you my lies and secret shames. All these years I have yearned to share those things which I have pretended to like and adore in the name of being authentically Black. I cast my words into the wind so that you can take our secrets and make these shames unintelligible as you sing them for all time in your unique and spirited language."
As one of the elders of the Church of James Brown I shall offer myself as an example of humility and vulnerability as I send my words into the wind:
I, Chauncey DeVega, believe that Michelle Obama makes many questionable fashion choices, and has worn many an outfit that is both unflattering and unattractive.
I, Chauncey DeVega, think that the new Erykah Badu video is overrated (despite her "political" posturing, I find the video more compelling for her most wonderful booty than for any "message" she is trying to convey). And like the neo-soul "queen" Jill Scott, I am generally tired of self-important, black artists who appeal to the negro bohemian nouveau New Negro crowd.
I, Chauncey DeVega, am tired of racism chasers who find offense and a white boogie man behind every corner. Quite frankly, I don't care if black people were told to leave Walmart over the public announcement system, or if another raggedy often badly behaving negro was tasered by the cops while acting the fool. I am quite frankly exhausted.
Come my friends and unburden yourself!