In My Mind

Black Wall Street

Firm foundations and sturdy hands
still crumble under tyranny
-----

"Where exactly are you taking me," you slur through toothpaste, spitting it in the sink before rinsing. It's still early, 8:45, but he's fast, putting on clothes in his room while you take the bathroom.

"Well you need clothes, I ain't forget."

"And hair products, a curling iron, satin cap, my own body wash," you add using his mouthwash. It's good he has extras of the basics. The bathroom door is cracked so he can walk in and hand you a stick of deodorant which you jam under your arms and set in an empty drawer with your toothbrush for your own. "Okay, v-neck come through."

Full business casual, he comes up beside you in the mirror brushing his shaved sides down and you walk out to put your shoes back on, wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

The way out of the building is just as smooth as the way in. You take a staircase to a display where his glossy burgundy BMW sits with tinted windows and custom tags.. his trophy.. and then you get in. He presses a button and you sink through tinted glass looking out at the view until you reach ground and the wall goes up behind you allowing him to back out onto pavement.

"I'll never get over that," you mumble looking through the side mirror to watch the opening shut. His own private entrance. A 'sky garage' he called it.

"Nia.."

"Hm.."

"What do you think about Black Wall Street?" He's driving somewhat normal now, only six miles over the speed limit and you haven't felt like you were going to fall through the door yet which is a plus.

"Black business, black mecca."

"It's been the pinnacle of black successful business. If you look at Tulsa, Jackson Ward, Durham.. We were at the height of self-sufficiency. We had bankers, builders, mechanics, electricians, cooks, shoemakers, tailors.... hairstylists. Anything you needed, you'd get from your own people and it worked! We were putting money in each other's pockets and building wealth with each other, taking pride in our blackness instead of tryna be the third white race... you know Asians are the second."

"I was with you until that last one."

"Nia, you know what happened to all them cities?"

"They were destroyed."

"By who? Did we destroy ourselves?"

"Boy. Who are you, Dr. Umar?"

"That's what you think?"

You touch the small black, red, and green beaded necklace with the wooden brown carved Africa pendent sitting in his cupholder.

"Umar Johnson is an ignorant misogynist who uses his platform to spread false information while robbing his followers. That's what you think of me?"

You blink. "No, I only meant the superwoke part."

"Unlike him, I have a Ph.D and I don't think AIDS came from gay black men, but it was intended to decimate the black population."

"I get it, don't compare you," you mutter watching the Oakland city views through your tinted window. People are out, strutting and power-walking on sidewalks and jogging across streets to work.

"Who destroyed our black wall streets?"

"White people," you sigh giving him what he wants.

"Never forget that the US National Guard united with White Nationalists in 1921 to bomb and shoot up the Greenwood District of Tulsa. They destroyed 35 blocks of self-sufficient black business, murdering an estimated 200 people and injuring more. This is what happens when you and I pull ourselves up by our bootstraps in this country. Jackson Ward? Socio-economic assault. They built a highway right through it and put their own businesses around it to undercut our efforts. They chased us out and sent us to housing projects then filled them with drugs. You see where I'm going with this?"