I was a microsecond short of catching my granddaughter’s insertion of 50 cents into the ‘animal rescue’ donation box at the checkout line.
Before I could tell her to ‘stop,’ her coins rattled on the container’s bottom.
My attempt to convey my concerns about her charitable contribution caught the clerk’s attention. He gave me a curious look similar to my Fula Princess, who responded as if she had done something wrong.
To Princess Alaiah, I explained animal shelters should not be your priority when you have limited resources.
I like dogs too, sometimes better than people, I explained. But you can’t weigh their welfare above people, particularly if you have limited funds to donate.
My point hit home a few minutes later when she discovered she was 15 cents short of the price of a pack of (sugar-free) gum she had planned to purchase.
To avoid paralleling her ‘candy’ purchase with a charitable contribution, I amended the lesson to explain that before making donations, she should consider her personal needs and wants.
My central message was about setting priorities. Needs should always overshadow wants, although many people need clarification.
You may want a new television, but you ‘need’ to pay your rent.
I recalled an acquaintance asking several friends for contributors to pay her rent because she had fallen for the appeal of her pastor to prioritize tithes and offerings above personal, ‘selfish’ commitments.
After a stern lecture, I gave her a few dollars and suggested she find another church.
A well-dressed minister who arrives at church in a nice new car and has the nerve to pimp the poor should be drummed out of the ministry. So should those ‘pastorally poverty pimps’ who tell their congregations to suffer on earth for they will receive their reward in heaven.
If you think about it, that’s exactly what the vicious and inhumane slave owners told our African ancestors.
But I digress.
Many of my charitable contributions have centered around personal tragedies and community interests.
Cancer stole away the lives of my mother and sister and redirected the energies of my younger sister and brother, so contributions to cancer research and supportive services have been a priority.
As a victim of heart disease—hypertension—I have invested in related educational programs and diabetes prevention.
I’ve also dedicated time and energy to various organ donation programs following the death of my son, Malik, whose organs helped others to live better lives.
I have given to several African charitable causes and local mentoring programs, which fill an essential void in our village.
And, of course, education has been at the top of my list. I’ve supported community schools tasked with turning our raw diamonds into gems with limited resources.
I also funded a Malik Holt scholarship at Messmer high school for students who planned to follow in his footsteps and become urban educators.
My most heartfelt contribution was to members of Malik’s 5th-grade class at Young Leaders Academy.
Following his death in a car accident on his 27th birthday, I had the privilege of serving as a ‘teacher’s aide’ in his classroom for the remainder of the school semester.
They became ‘family’ and named themselves the Kids of Kemet out of respect for Malik. Our familial relation morphed into a commitment to provide each of them with a $1,000 college scholarship when they graduated.
My wife and I drained our savings and earmarked proceeds from my book, Not Yet Free at Last,’ to bring that promise to fruition.
We also added a second-year contribution to the neediest.
Now that I’m more or less on a fixed income, I have eliminated most of my charitable donations.
But, it wasn’t an issue of money when I dropped the Democratic Party from my revised donations list. It was more about how I saw the party: it was nothing more than the other wing on the political bird.
Several years ago, I wrote the DNC asking for specifics on how the party would benefit Black Milwaukeeans, only to be dissed and treated like a pawn for someone else’s agenda.
Before the Democratic convention three years ago, I sent a column to party officials asking if they would focus on any of the myriad issues impacting our city, only to be told we were essentially irrelevant.
I stopped giving to presidential elections after Barack Obama. Thus I threw into the ‘circular file’ (that’s trash can) a recent campaign contribution form from America’s first Black president (with his signature no less) seeking contributions for President Joe Biden.
If Black folks organized an independent political party, I might reconsider. However, if it disagreed with reparations, like Obama did, or opposed educational options, like the Democratic party does, they can redirect that request to Hunter Biden, the racist son of the president who has yet to be rebuked by Black Dems for calling us ‘niggers’ (n-word).
Likewise, I dropped the NAACP from my charitable list after the local branch coordinated a press conference to denounce my support (and the support of the MCJ) for school choice.
There was a time when I was a faithful member and even served as the chair of the nominating committee. But I soured on the organization when it was used by special interests to sue to stop school choice.
The NAACP’s stance—at the time–reflected its status as a subsidiary of special interests that benefit from Black dysfunction and dependency.
The organization’s opposition to educational options for Black children failed by government schools sharply contrasted with my personal cultural philosophy, as was illuminated when I asked the then-president of the local branch why the civil rightsorganization was suing to stop school choice.
His response still rings in my mind:
He said that the Black private schools—Harambeeand Urban Day– participating in the school choiceprogram are exclusively “Afro American’ and thussegregated. “
And, he added, “Anything all Black is all bad.”
I’m not making that up.
After the shock wore off, I asked him if I should takemy savings out of the Black bank, tell my children not to consider attending a Black college or university, andno longer purchase from Lena’s grocery store?
My questions were met with silence.
My additional lesson to my Fulani Princess (DNAtesting revealed our family is Fulani and Mende) wasnot to invest in ventures counter to our culture and sociopolitical self interests.
As of this year, I’ve been forced to reassess donations again.
I’m fine-tuning the organizational structure in orderto create a new youth mentoring organizations premised on a proposal Malik developed before his death.
Out of respect for him and his students, it’s called‘Kids of Kemet’ (KOK) and will take on the form of aquasi-Boy Scouts paradigm sans the camping and military components.
(For clarification, the original boy scouts was startedin England by a bigoted British army officer —RobertBaden-Powell–who used South Africa’s Zulu tribe’s‘rites of passage’ as his template.
Ironically, Baden-Powell kept a photo of a hangingof a Southern African ‘rebel’ as a permanent souvenir.)
The KOK will include cultural and educational components and martial arts training for discipline, sport,and self-defense.
Watch out for details in the coming weeks, as thefirst class will be formed within the next month.
And oh yes, in case you’re wondering, I did give myPrincess extra coins to purchase her gum—and a book.
I may not have agreed with her choice of charitablecontributions, but the fact that she is cognizant of philanthropic needs makes her worthy of respect and reward.
Hotep.
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