Luka Sabbat, We Need to Talk…

#TRENDSETTER, Art, Articles, Culture, Essays, Non-Fiction

Dear Luka Sabbat,

I am speaking directly to you.

No word limit.

No hashtags.

Luka Sabbat, you have had quite a career despite your age. You are the child of greatness and you walk circles of fashion and prestige that I have never dreamed of being able to even touch growing up in hovels where trauma and poverty was the only thing guaranteed to me. Yet, I still rooted for you, because you’re black, and because I know no matter the walk of life, we all have troubles.

Until, you opened the ashtray you call a mouth to talk down to the hatefully proclaimed “SJWs” and activists. Because, you’re so beyond all of these things that you can criticize them – that you can poke holes in their logic because you float on a plane of ascended philosophy where scrutiny is hobby of the low and uncultured.

You, my brother, with blood not too many generations free of the shackles of the same victimization these people you criticize face everyday they stand up for something, have the audacity to sit there with your pencil thin mustache and SCRUTINIZE the people you mock for scrutiny?

I’m not going to call you stupid.

Stupid people don’t get as far as you do – not without wealthy connections and family’s legacy to stand on top of; Stupid people don’t contribute immensely to philanthropic pursuits – unless they’re going to brag about it later for clout. Stupid people leap to defend abusers and present problematic antics as a hallmark of true vision; Stupid people speak without knowing what they want to say; stupid people are meek; stupid people are hypocrites; stupid people, foolish people, who seem to make it the furthest and get the highest platforms in their pointy leather boots (likely sewn by people who can’t even afford to feel how uncomfortable they are) don’t listen when people let them know WHY they do something: they just brag about how they’re going to make a video, eventually, explaining how THEY think, and how THEY feel, and how IMPORTANT they think they are.

Of course, because NOT EVERYONE IS A VICTIM.

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Luka Sabbat, you are not stupid. You are an idiot. A dilettante. An amateur in thought, theory and execution who got ahold of his parent’s soapbox and thought himself a Cicero! But, honey, Cicero was executed and he changed nothing, because he lacked Understanding. Luka, like him, you will fix nothing the way you are, and the way you think, and the way you carry yourself with utter repugnance. (By the time Cicero was discovered as “influential” his civilization was already dead).

Not Everyone is a Victim, Luka? And that’s why SJWs are wrong? And that’s what’s so heinous about our generation?

Erase your self-righteousness like you erase the allegations against your bros.

No, Luka. Not everyone is a victim, but most people have been victimized, and that’s why insensitive assholes who hype the foolish things you say, and Kanye said, and Trump perpetuates painted SJWs in such a brand.

No activist whom I have ever met has ever stopped at the internet. That’s because the internet is a tool to SHARE information, to experience new thoughts and then to test them in real life – dummy. But hey, you did only one semester of College before you realized anything you could get there your family already had, ain’t that right Mr. Fallback? Your co-star, Yara Shahidi, knows how formidable the internet is in inspiring people to make lasting decisions and choose to dedicate themselves to these issues and — so many rail against, abuse her, trash her as a SJW. I’m sure she feels your sympathies. A great woman, that Yara, and she will inspire many, through the internet, most likely.

Being an activist isn’t counter-culture anymore because you say so? Because you’re SOOOO counter culture? You peel my tuition off flings and hook-ups. What’s really good, my nigga?

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I see right through what you were doing here. Implying our struggles are done with because it’s not like how it “used to be”. And the “old days were better”. Bro, allusions are the tools of real artists, not the playthings of socialites. Keep it real, or keep it in your Balenciagas.

By the way, you’re out here criticizing the “fake” activists, as if they’re the ones who criticized you and your idols. It’s the real activists who be pounding the pavements who are on your ass, and the ass of your friends who do these terrible shit.

Yet, you persist on making it about how people are mean to you for speaking your mind. That it’s this PC culture and other Alt-Right buzzwords. That everyone is just so sensitive: WAH, WHY CANT I BE FRIENDS WITH A RAPIST?

WAH, WHY CAN’T KANYE WEST DISRESPECT AN ENTIRE GROUP OF MARGINALIZED PEOPLE?

WAH, WHY IS IT WHEN I SAY THINGS PEOPLE DISAGREE WITH THEY DON’T LIKE ME ANYMORE? IT’S LIKE PEOPLE DON’T WANT TO AGREE WITH ME BECAUSE THEY DISAGREE WITH ME!

(Bitch, you’re a little baby).

You complain about people being politically correct, and that it’s toxic and harmful to your humanity, when in reality, you’re just angry that no one wants to play in your playpen because you’re mean, and a bully, and no one wants to listen about how you saved those poor unfortunate black(er) people because you’re okay with sexual abuse and racial misconduct — NIGGA!

Grow up, Luka.

Be about more than your image you want people to care about.

Be about more than the echo chamber you squat and shit in and actually realize people are saying these things for other reasons than clout — unlike you.

Be about actually realizing where you stand in this culture and how your actions contradict your intentions.

Then, maybe the criticism you will mean nothing to you, because you know where you stand in the moral swing of things.

 

Steven Underwood

Bachelor’s of Arts in English

 

 

More of Luka’s poignant observations:

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#WAR: WHOM TO BLAME

Articles, Essays, Non-Fiction

By: Steven Underwood

In Columbus, there is a military stand at every College fair, at every job fair. Across the street, you hear about a Miss, or Mister whom has their homes and bills paid for by a noble son or daughter in the military. Advisors make suggestions to the middling student on how to afford college; athletes without the intellect to propel themselves academically into the D1 get a brochure for adventure.

Nothing talks about the pain and anguish that will be inflicted by them onto people whom look just like them.

The military is a billion-dollar enterprise and puppet of American greed. They swoop into foreign nations and flush them with violence and anguish until there is little to nothing that can save them from the monsters they eventually become after the are forced into the uniform and after they are forced out.

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This is not to say there is no choice, but when the questionnaire is: A. You avoid the military and watch your family become swallowed by the persisting hopelessness of the city; B. Become consumed in the drug enterprise that is glamourized despite its entire market hinging on the poisoning of black and brown people (much like what they would be doing in the military) and risking the prison system; or C. Conforming to an organization that turns you into a weapon of people who are your enemy and promising a Hero’s journey in service of the government that has never protected them, you see that there is no choice at all. Any free will, makes you culpable in the downward spiral of your entire generation.

Recently, many leftist digital personalities have taken to bashing and wishing the extreme misfortunes of death, depravity and karma upon the poor. Some people are justifiably upset, victimized by the enterprises that have a stranglehold on the poor and exploits their economic disadvantages to harm everyone they’ve ever known. Others simply talk from a pedestal too high for them to see their own culpability in these military transgressions: how they’re upper-middle class suburban lives have swallowed programs, advantages and aid that the communities adjacent to them have starved without. I’ve seen these people every year in high school: they cross from the other side of the tracks – often for drugs – and dabble with the dark side.

Whatever the case is, I never think it’s a solution to focus on the mutual destruction of the lower class. That’s not very socialist, and therefore, that is not to the benefit of a disadvantaged group here, or across the seas. I won’t get into the arguments on compliance and force. I won’t get into the rhetoric of blame and target. Instead, I will get into the rhetoric of fact.

Fact: the Government chooses to fund the military over education and social reform programs.

Fact: the Government chooses to strategically place these programs and organizations that place the military pipeline between high school and economic liberty and expect its vacuum not to suck in the gullible naivety of 18 year olds.

Fact: the Government targets locations high in poverty, high in resources and high in such profound cultural dichotomies and western media propaganda over the last two decades that these exploited children can barely recognize if they will be battling people, or terrorists.

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In all honesty, I can admit that I have some culpability in turning a blind eye to the actions of the government and the exploitation of the poor in the military (Much like Ta-nahesis Coates, I do harbor a bias to Barrack Obama the person, and distinguish him as separate from Obama, the President). And I do blame some of these children – the young who enter the military to become hometown heroes, or to champion the imperialistic powers of the West; the middling students who refused to even attempt the other way out that didn’t include the pain of another: the people who knew they would be hurting others for their own wealth. (I may have subscribed to the institutional scam of Accademia, but I never picked up a gun in the name of the West). However, what I always do is encourage that focusing of power at destroying the root of an evil.

The root I so clearly sense is a government that is still stuck in the exploitation of others to create this construct of power that is incapable of being shared, without the poisoning of its lower half and the halves it cannot directly influence without anguish.

In all, toy soldiers execute a plan that a larger hand positions them to perform. Microcosmic actions always begin at the macro, as per the human constructs we subscribed to.

We the People in a Less Perfect Union

Art, Articles, Culture, Non-Fiction, Poetry

Sometimes, it’s better to look at the world through poetry until it starts to make a lick of sense.

***

On Monday, he wasn’t our president, and we celebrated the legacy of a man with as many faults as he had virtues. The skies held their breath, and a world of bright blue became bleak and cried. We remembered how we love the rain, but this was different.

Together, We investigated the landscape of the world. We judged the people of the time: for treating people like cattle, for their shameful attitudes, for their racism. We couldn’t see how these people, relatives, and friends to many of us, couldn’t see what was going on in front of them. That same day, we ignored many obvious clues that history was licking its fingertips and turning a few pages backward in its book just for emphasis.

On Tuesday, We pressed our thumbs to small digital boxes and opened Twitter. We discussed “Dr. King’s Dream,” and judged the black community according to it. Are we honoring him when we kneel during a pledge of allegiance? Is calling a white person racist acting in his image? Dr. King’s progeny got into the tabloids and said Dr. King would’ve liked Donald Trump. Our world cracked at the seams.

On Wednesday, We steeled ourselves for the worse, and found that our best metals were but rust: we would lose Barrack Obama. The skies remained gray, but the winds whipped with a sheering coldness. Tempers were high, and we fought each other. We lashed out, without really knowing what we were lashing out f. Anger for anger’s sake, a test of those chains we swore would remain. Both to unite us, and to shackle our ambitions.

On Thursday, We maintained the song of Monday. Dr. King’s progeny’s comments sang again. I stare blankly at the screen for a moment. This is someone who knew him best, isn’t it? I re-read a line by Fredrick Douglas, and I make us remember.
“Power concedes nothing without a Demand…It never did and it never will. Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them, and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows or with both. “
I take to this new world of zeroes and ones, and I make a declarative. “If we are to believe MLK would’ve supported Trump, then maybe MLK isn’t the person we should look up to?”
Few comment. Many have a feeling. The words hang in the air.
On Friday, the sky wept upon his head. Orange flushes down his face and drips onto the American soil beneath his feet. The brown in the soil becomes stained in chemical lies. We shake our hands and test these chains. We meditate on what others have decided for us. We ask ourselves how people could be so ignorant. We judge the people for many things: for their racism, for their bigotry, for their sexism, for their phobias.
History hasn’t turned her page.
The page becomes wet and the ink runs down the page. Our name runs with it. These symbols hold no more meaning.
On Saturday, we ask ourselves if we can be united when these important things have no more meaning.