Deci

Accountability

2005-12-28T15:37:00.000-08:00

Oppression scorned my new demands
Suppression used a heavy hand
Mediocrity induced a painful fear
Logic caused some sudden tears
Complacency allowed the lock
My Oppressors used to rule the clock
Conformity made it a shame
To even mention my own name
Still I insist you must respond
So I refused to hide or run
Answer!
Tell me where it went?
How is the time or money spent?
The crazy windings of the past
Did you expect that it would last?
A King indeed you think you are
And so I know that from afar
You perceive my cause unworthy
So today
I killed somebody
A friend of yours, who served you well
I know for sure
He’ll rest in hell
Today false king I will announce
Proclaiming loud I’ll say it once
Complacency imprisoned me
Accountability set me free

Don't Speak

2005-12-28T15:26:00.000-08:00

Silence is the perfect gift
A gift to give one’s self
Silence is a precious gift
Don’t leave it on a shelf
Embrace silence like the meek
Cease to mumble, stumble, speak
Embrace silence as your friend
And days of thoughtlessness will end
Don’t speak before there’s time to think
Don’t speak of others, dogs or ink
Embrace silence as a friend
And years of ignorance will end

Denecia Spence Opiyo©

Now!

2005-12-28T15:20:00.000-08:00

Today’s the day
Today at last
Now!
Today
Don’t let it pass
Tomorrow
Oh! No
May be too late?
Today’s the day to be great
In little things
I’ll do my best
When great tasks come
I’ll know success
Today is the day
I take my prize
Now!
I touch the sky

Denecia Opiyo ©

My Best

2005-12-28T15:11:00.000-08:00

I know I’m far from perfect
Still
Each day I give my best
I know that even then
I won’t pass every test
Still
I will keep on trying
Each day that I will live
Yes! Though I’m far from perfect
My best is what I’ll give
Denecia Spence Opiyo©

Don't Give Up

2005-12-28T15:05:00.001-08:00

Don’t give up
There’s still a chance
It will all
Workout at last
Rewards will find you where you are
Hard work pays off
You’ve come this far

Denecia Spence Opiyo©

Dream

2005-12-28T15:05:00.000-08:00

He had a dream and few believed
This dream would set men free
He dreamt and said a prayer
Everyday, each month and year

A dream and then a stand
In a cold and distant land
Like Daniel still he prayed
And he walked, so many days

Thought he died this dream came true
Now there’s hope for other too
A dream a prayer a stand
Only few could understand

So dream and don’t give up
Though hate will never stop
Pray and take a stand
Our father understands

Dream! Don’t give up
Hope’s alive
Don’t stop!
Dream, dream! Please do
I see a dream in you
Denecia Spence Opiyo©

Fawn

2005-12-28T14:53:00.000-08:00

I saw her speeding down the street
With a ruler for success
I tried to stop her desperate gaze
But I couldn’t do my best
Cause the glare of rage was in my eyes
And the sinking, stinking deep surprise
Of one who finally realised
She embraced the common stereotypes

Now we’ve parted ways;
Still!
I am still amazed
And troubled by her desperate gaze

Hope she slows, her pace
So life won’t be a waste
Of useless treasures, empty pleasures
Bought with cash and fleshy measures

Though I tried to say
Today was not the day
Not ready to hear yet
Still I can’t forget

Denecia Spence Opiyo©

The A Word

2005-12-28T14:49:00.000-08:00

When I announced my engagement there were signs of alarm from some family members and friends. While every married person has had to endure some form of pre wedding opposition mine was unique. Most of the concern stemmed from the dreaded “A” word, since my spouse to be was irrevocably tagged as being from a continent with a reputation that was darker than its inhabitants. This to many, was reason to be excluded from the list of eligible bachelors.
Since we are of different nationalities I understood there would be some cultural adjustments and concessions needed to dwell in peace with the extended family. I underestimated however the impact stereotypes would have on our collective ability to be open to each other.
I am the descendant of slaves. My ancestors were taken from West African nations and brought to the West Indies, where British, French, Spanish and other colonial powers erased any trace of language by separating families and segregating tribes. My father was born in St Vincent and the Grenadines while my mother was born in St Lucia. They were married and started a family in Trinidad and Tobago, where I was born.
My husband was born in Kenya. He is quiet, empathetic, intelligent, and more than I ever asked God for but this seemed irrelevant to the people I knew because of his heritage. I wondered how this could be in the information age, with globalization and endless possibilities to be informed.
Then, I heard a speech by Malcolm X that seemed to clarify this confusion, in his speech entitled You Can't Hate the Roots and Not the Tree Malcolm said, “…..you have to realize that up until about 1959, Africa was dominated by the colonial powers. And by the colonial powers of Europe having complete control over Africa, they projected the image of Africa negatively. They always projected Africa in a negative light— jungle, savages, cannibals, nothing civilized. And naturally, it was so negative; it was negative to you and me. And you and I began to hate it. We didn't want anybody to tell us anything about Africa, and much less call us an African. And in hating Africa and hating the Africans, we end up hating ourselves, without even realizing it.”
Instantly it resonated with me and answered the nagging questions from my youth. It explained my girlfriend’s nightmare about having a baby that was as dark as her brother in law and why my American friend Shantell resented being called African American.
Still I wondered, why with all the strides since slavery, colonization and the civil rights era, were we still allowing other peoples’ opinions of us to define our understanding of each other and ourselves?
Malcolm is gone, Nelson Mandela is free Rosa Parks is celebrated in death and still we have not embraced the doctrine of equality. We are still segmenting ourselves based of the ideology of colonial bigots.
The smear campaign that labeled us as inferior, sub humans, decades ago has been so successful that we have agreed to enslave ourselves in a similar fashion today in the year 2005.
As I contemplated the depth of this discovery I recalled my surprise after meeting my husband. I was surprised because he was the first black person I ever met that was unapologetic about being black. I had never met a black person until then who did not claim to be mixed with some other ethnic group, suggesting subtly that this was somehow an improvement.
We had more in common than anyone else I ever loved and yet we are opposites in ways that allowed a predominantly natural complement. To certain relatives though, our happiness was not as important as his nationality and the preconceived notions of marginalization, servitude and domestic violence.
It didn’t matter that his sister was a graduate student at a private University in California who enjoyed the emotional and financial support of her family for her undergraduate education while my sisters and I were responsible for educating our selves.
It should not have mattered that we were form different parts of the world since my parents, aunts and uncles, were all examples of intercultural and interracial marriages, but it did.
I was surprised by our collective disregard for the need to assess each other on a one on one basis. Instead we seem to embrace the stereotypical references and employ clever nuances to further segment ourselves, to the delight of our detractors.
Still many of us blame colonialism and slavery for the apparent isolation between us. I not only disagree but must assert my belief that our collective desire to feel superior in one way or another has induced a form of isolation that allows ignorance to flourish.
There is no superior or inferior race or group of people. Opportunity, circumstance, geography and culture make us unique, yet we embrace the idea that if one of us excels this person is the exception to the rule of mediocrity many have come to embrace. We long for validation by other groups like a slave trying to please his master.
In Bob Marley’s Redemption song he admonishes “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery; none but our self can free our minds.” Have we been emancipated? Are we free from the stereotypes that restrict our ability to cooperate, collaborate and embrace our roots?
We are ultimately responsible for the decisions we make. If we remain disconnected then the residual effects of colonialism and slavery will continue to impact future generations. There is no need for us to travel to the African continent to reconnect with what is all around us.
Global economics and immigration patterns have reunited us and made us neighbors. When we encounter each other daily we should extend the same level or respect and courtesy that we expect to receive. We stood united in the cry for equality during the apartheid, and civil rights era yet we embrace the stereotypical differences that were established during those times.
We long for validation from colonial powers hoping they can distinguish the African American from the island girl or the African boy. We are driven to correct stereotypical assertions about ourselves yet we remain unaware of the need to know each other to eradicate the stereotypes that limit our collective possibilities.
Our choice to embrace the doctrine of segregation and construct a matrix of superiority that screens those who are not as light as us, as dark as us, or who don’t sound like us and can’t speak our language only restricts our growth. As we continue to insist on equality in corporate, legal and immigration endeavors, it will be useful to remember that if we don’t see each other as equal it is highly improbable that others will.

Movie

2005-12-14T12:42:00.000-08:00

Shattered Glass Denecia Spence

Shattered Glass is an intriguing representation of issues concerning journalistic responsibilities, ethical considerations, and personal ambition. Every aspiring Journalist should view this movie and analyze the cost to their personal and professional wellbeing.

In this movie the young Mr. Glass is excited about his career and seems intoxicated by the influence that accompanies his position with the “The New Republic”, daily he delivers electrifying performances during staff meetings and often leaves other writers feeling inadequate.

In life there is always someone with some extraordinary talent or skill that motivates and inspires his or her peers, at “The New Republic” Mr. Glass is the young talented writer with the presence and skill to inspire awe and envy.

Writing fantastic pieces that endure the scrutiny of editing staff and several organizational levels of fact checking, Stephen Glass is encouraged to provide eye watering pieces, about “Young Republicans” and super Hackers.
The publicity generated from these articles inspired others in the news room to want to adopt a style similar to his. They viewed his ability to integrate the humorous with the serious as a great accomplishment.

His first editor Michael Kelly, had faith in Glass and perhaps neglected to pursue his haunch that things were not as they should be when fact checking his story about “Young Republicans”. He was fired for and unrelated issue.
His new editor Chuck Lane replaced Kelly, this was an unpopular choice with Glass and many others since Lane was not well liked or respected. As questions surfaced regarding the Hacker story and Lane begins to press Glass for source information a heart racing sprint to cover up exaggerations and embellishments begins.

Many in the office try to shield the fragile looking Glass from the more confident manly Lane who seems out to destroy the career of the young writer. Glass accuses Lane of punishing him for being loyal to Kelly. Lane temporarily yields to the pressure and decides to suspend Glass after being bombarded by is boss and some of his subordinates.

In the end Lane makes the unpopular decision to fire Glass who seems very disconnected from reality and appears surprised by the consequences of his actions. Lane though portrayed as an unlikable personality is able to navigate the maze of office politics, ambition and journalistic responsibility to make the right decision.

Focused on “The New Republics’” responsibility to readers Lane successfully harvests the expertise and trust of his subordinates to fact check stories to clarify inaccuracies. In the final analysis these checks lead to the discovery that 27 of 41 stories were either partially or completely false.

One lesson that every young journalist should take from this movie experience is that the first amendment guarantee of a free press is an awesome responsibility that should not be taken lightly, while Glass disappointed the public with his unethical behavior, his peers who aspired to be like him were far more hurt and disappointed that he did not embrace the responsibility that accompanies the feeling of greatness. His abuse of their trust and respect was selfish and careless.

While we all want to be successful the question of what we are willing to do to achieve this success is a critical question that should be asked before becoming a journalist.
Individuals should analyze the cost to decide weather it is profitable in the long run to assess their value based solely on their professional identity. Glass seemed desperate to be loved, accepted and respected within the narrow world he allowed himself to experience. So desperate that he was willing to fabricate his way to a fictitious brand of greatness that was destined to be “Shattered”.

Message

2005-12-14T12:26:00.000-08:00

The Message

We took aim at the messenger
Still the message stayed the same
Hurled insults at the messenger
And scandalised his name
Denying any merit of the message that he brought
We tried to kill the messenger, in spirit and in thought
The storm came late that evening
And the messenger, was safe
Still no one could remember
The message that he gave
Instead we took the time
To ridicule his name
Though we were unprepared
The message stayed the same
A few of us survived
We all have some regret
Still he moved away
His wasn't finished yet
We can't reverse the time
But lessons can be learned
I never aim at messengers
I listen to their words
Cause though we ridicule their names
The message