Respectable Thoughts

Respectability politics or the politics of respectability refers to attempts by marginalized groups to police their own members and show their social values as being continuous, and compatible, with mainstream values rather than challenging the mainstream for its failure to accept difference.

The concept was first articulated by Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham in her book Righteous Discontent: The Women’s Movement in the Black Baptist Church, 1880–1920. In the context of black American history, respectability politics was practiced as a way of attempting to consciously set aside and undermine cultural and moral practices thought to be disrespected by wider society, especially in the context of the family and good manners.

The development of African-American politics of responsibility has been traced to writers and activists including W. E. B. Du Bois and Booker T. Washington, and has been used as a way of understanding the election and political trajectory of Barack Obama. President Obama has also been criticized for his use of respectability politics during his presidency, as when he brought up issues of black criminality during his speech following the November 24 grand jury decision regarding the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. One of the most open proponents of respectability politics is former-NBA player Charles Barkley.

——> Dictionary Definition (Game)

Respect, self-re·spect

  1. pride and confidence in oneself; a feeling that one is behaving with honor and dignity. Synonyms;



    amour propre (rightful love of self);

    faith in oneself;

    pride –  a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired (fulfillment);

    dignity – the state or quality of being worthy of honor, a composed or serious manner or style, impressive stateliness;

    morale –  the confidence, enthusiasm, and discipline of a person or group at a particular time;


    —-> What I think (thus my opinion)


Respectability politics is a catch phrase for the now. It’s cool to say and cool to dislike but this is the foundation that our grandparents raised us on. The same foundation that used to breed a sense of courage, confidence, and pride in our community.

The ironic part is that those of us that benefited the greatest from going to school, respecting authority, earning a job, and live day to day – some with families, tell the others that it’s not important even though they yield daily rewards from being decent human beings.

Respect isn’t about pleasing someone else. (that’s not in the definition) 

It’s not about hanging your head low. If you read the definitions; it’s about self esteem, confidence, dignity, morale, fulfillment, and etc…

Having respect for someone else doesn’t guarantee that they will respect you. (that’s not in the definition).

Having respect for someone else doesn’t mean that they won’t kill you. (that’s not in the definition)

Having respect is something that is of you, for you, and your how to. It’s all out how you coexist in the world.

Getting well dressed, open doors for you. It really helps your appeal with the opposite sex. It garners respect but it isn’t part of the definition of respect.

Getting educated builds confidence. It helps you. It breathes new words into life.

Speaking proper English and switching to slang is OK. Other groups do it too. We are all trying to be clear and understood. It’s OK to code switch, if it can help you communicate your message.

Respecting authority is OK. What if they don’t respect you; go ahead and re-read my thoughts. I respect everyone that comes in contact with me, even when they disrespect me. I do have my tolerance level but i’m not 0 to 100 with everyone.

I choose to carry myself with honor until truly called upon.  So I ain’t fighting anyone, you have to be right kind of special and the odds have to be in your favor. I stood up against 1 vs 3. I stood up at gun point. 

I stand up because I learned to respect myself and when push comes to shove, I’d be ready. Push comes to shove, I never run from a fight.

If respectability politics = being confident in my abilities, well groomed, determined, convicted in the commandments, rational, strategic, community growth oriented; well, I’m in great company. The President is a great role model. It’s all a choice. I choose to have a career where I don’t care to express myself in my hair (it is just hair to me). I choose to respect everyone, even those that hate me. It’s a choice; a choice that doesn’t guarantee that someone (black/white/hispanic/other) wont’ kill me.

Fellas don’t let these ladies fool you; in the end, they all want a man with a job, dresses well (in context) and carry themselves with confidence. 


U.S. President Obama listens to remarks during event held to honor members of U.S. teams and delegations from the Sochi Olympics  and Paralympics at the White House in Washington

U.S. President Barack Obama at the White House in Washington April 3, 2014. REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque (UNITED STATES – Tags: POLITICS SPORT OLYMPICS)



“To see 4 of the best basketball players in the world dressed impeccably and speaking up plainly and eloquently on an issue means volumes. Image matters. Growing up an impressionable sports fan like any young male, you want to emulate these guys. I like that they also broadened the platform to speak on gun violence in our own communities. Critical. ‪#‎espys‬” – Daniel Nicolas, Community Leader, Mentor and young Professional



Second Choices

Christopher CampbellIn this world where getting into a relationship is as easy as instant messaging and instant coffees. There is this girl who always believed that love is a sacred thing. It is something that you can’t just add to your priorities like as if it just a necklace to add on your loud colored…

via Don’t Fall In Love With The Girl Who’s Used To Being Someone’s Second Choice — Thought Catalog

Spilled Milk

What if s/he wasn’t the milk?…
but the cereal
Not dem’ plain Corn Flakes
naw, I’m talking bout’ dem’ Cheerios
S/he was your breakfast in bed
the Sunny side up on your eggs
that brain freeze up in your head
that nicely toasted slice of bread…
and everything, but spilled milk

I don’t know about you…
But losing a good meal, is worth a few tears.


What if s/he wasn’t the milk…

— Ecclesiast G. aka The Champ.


I want to see you.

I spend my time forcing reflections to mirror your image.

Peering into rail carts, hoping that I didn’t miss you.

I pick out aspects of who you are or who you might be,

Superimpose your likeness on others,

And I hold my breath.


She isn’t you.


I try to make eye contact,

I try to connect…

I don’t know you.


I worry that I might have missed you,

Worry that I alter my path so much

that you couldn’t follow the breadcrumbs.


I figured that it would have happened by now.

Figured I would have ran into you on a campus,

A bit clumsy, I know.

I didn’t mean to mess you up.

Didn’t mean to interrupt.

Just wanted to bump into you.

Nudge you off the isolated path.


Just wanted to help you escape being just you

so that we could be just us.


We can pick up the pieces,

I’ll pick up your books,

Maybe help you carry them to your class.


Like those other cool guys…

I wish that I could muster the words,

Make you smile by the second sentence,

Make you pause by the third,

And take you out by the tenth…


I hope that I didn’t miss you,

Traveling the same road,

to the same place,

2 rail cars away.


I hope that you could hear me,

Whispering to the well, wishing you were here or I was there.

Even with headphones,

I promise I’d be worth pressing pause.


Maybe we say nothing,

You holding onto my arm,

Leaning unto my shoulder.


I promise that spot is for no one else.

I miss you.

I hope that I didn’t miss you at the grocery store,

in route to a small café,

on the dance floor,

or simply headed home.


I don’t know you.

I’m here to get to know you.

When we speak,

know that you will always be

where you always been…



Je souhaite que je vous trouve dans le lieu le plus important , mon cœur.


A Better Narrative

Truth about me. I’ve never been a person with an agenda. Never had a great scheme or ultimate plot for my life. I like to play RPGs, strategy games, SimCity, and chess. I use those innate skills to fashion the most random life storyboard, mainly because I was challenged by an old friend to change my stars.
The old “Aladdin” theory;
the question, can I class jump?
The answer; well, maybe.
As I get closer to solving this riddle, I realized after my last trip to Miami that I have to weave a tighter narrative for my life and my direction. I have all the pieces. I know some moves. So for the month of June before the 3rd QTR; I’ll be working on pulling together what I like, where I am, and what I’m good at.
My name is Lawrence Gonzalez. I am an auditor at the Department of Treasury with oversight of over $5-7 Billion, who aspires to educate people on how to earn real wealth. I write for a financial blog. I give back to my community by helping to develop a professional appeal through photography and financial literacy. I aim to prove that I can change my stars while helping those who are willing, change their stars.
That’s the mantra that I have to remember.AiUqoCc.jpg 
What’s your mantra?

Our Honest Moment

She’s rushed.


In that moment, she stops;

Pivots and crosses her left leg over her right,

Slightly off balanced.

She reaches;


I catch her.

She hugs me; with the ability to slow time,

The drizzle of rain stops falling.

She stops us in a moment.

Her head nestled over my right shoulder.

She breathes life into me;

I shield her from the Universe.


She ground us;

We can’t avoid the sparks.

She is lightning to my heart.


The most honest moment of the night,

She holds me and I hold her.


I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her to stay.

I hold her to let her know that I would catch her in any moment,

I would lift her when she falls,

Encourage her when she doubts.

I would catch when she pivots with the grace and elegance of a ballerina,

And I would never forsake her.


She’s afraid.

Her scars haven’t fully heal.

Loosens her grip; she can’t share her emotions,

She hopes, that I’m not like her ex.

That I won’t leave her feeling discarded.


She was TiVo on crack; an art form, a melody,

She plays with the flow of time,

She is the director of my memories’ symphony,

Rewinds the image about two minutes prior…


Hits play.


The cover of night blankets the bright lights of the City,

Cascading buildings, adorn with ancient art,

painted with chic restaurants,

The city moves.

The rain holds back for us,


She waives for a cab.

She thanks me for a great night, for the company,

I think her for the surprise, honored by her presence.

I want to get to know her.

I play it cool.

She sways when she smiles,

She denies that she’s happy,

I can see it in her eyes.

She avoids eye contact.


We lie to each other.

We hold on to our vulnerabilities.


The cab pulls up to the curb.

The scene plays through;

She rushes to leave.


Happy to have been…


Then she slips, goes with her heart,

Pivots and crosses her left leg over her right,

Slightly off balanced.

But right where she wants to be;

She reaches. I catch her.

I tell her I love her without words,

She tells me she loves me with her gestures.


Our most honest moment,

Our first hug.