Gangsta time, again, in the White House?

"The biggest gang is in the White House!" (Willie Bobo, 1969)

In 1969, I was walking down 47th Street, on the south side of Chicago, JUICED UP in Black Nationalist posturing, rhetoric, and religiosity. I’d never been street, but street people liked me. I knew how to communicate with them.

I got my first lesson when, in high school, my best friend, Carl Ferrell, and I had to go to his mom’s beauty shop on west 63rd Street, which was Disciple’s territory, so that he could ask her for money so that we could go to the “show” (theatre) to watch a movie.

Explaining gang psychology is not something I can perfectly do. Tied to gang psychology was gang territorialism, language, and culture, something I picked up, though I’d never been in a gang. Anyway, back then, when you found yourself walking in gang territory, knowledge of culture, language, and timing was essential if you wanted to avoid becoming a victim of robbery and/or intimidation—usually very mild intimidation. Here were the unstated rules:

1. If you were walking down the street and had seen gang members, far ahead, walking towards you, on the same side of the street, you would not cross the street to avoid them, unless they were far enough away so that, when you crossed the street to go to the other side, they wouldn’t think that it was because you were a pussy (weak). But, generally, if you saw them, they saw you. So, here’s some things that you had to do, since you could assume that they probably saw you:

   1. Avoid posturing if posturing wasn’t natural for you. What I mean is that, you would not suddenly start “throwing them shoulders,” or “pimp walking,” i.e., strutting, in an attempt to “relate” to them, as if you were tough, if you were not tough. Because, once they got near you, they were gonna SMELL that you weren’t tough, and were faking. Then they’d take your money, call you a bitch, and probably laugh at you.

   2. If posturing was natural for you (whether you were tough or not), you’d probably get away with throwing them shoulders.

      

   3. Adopt a typical, gang-banger scowl face. But not a combative scowl face. There’s a combative scowl face. And there’s a non-combative scowl face.

   4. As you got closer to the gangbangers, you stared at them. And, again, timing was everything. You don’t stare at them too long. But, see, dropping your eyes could be a sign of pussyness. So, you had to time, perfectly, when to stare.

   5. When you were finally very near to them, like maybe four to five feet, you beat your chest, ONCE, with your right fist, and simultaneously said (but not too loud), “D-THANG!!!!” To which they would reply, “D-THANG!!” You made it! You were safe to continue. Because you gave respect by acknowledging that you were in “D” (Disciple) territory.

2. If you were very near an intersection, and suddenly some D’s turned the corner, walking your way, it’s too late to walk across the street to avoid them. Hopefully, you’d been practicing (Practice makes perfect). If not, it didn’t matter. Because, in that particular situation the ONLY safe thing you could do was quickly [but not too quickly] thump your chest and shout, “D-THANG!!!”

Whenever Carl and I would reach his mom’s beauty shop, the first thing I had to do was run to the washroom and take a BIG shit. That’s what the word “shitless” means. I’d be so scared shitless after going through that. Eventually, one day, at school, I told Carl, “Carl, LOOK, man!!! Next time we go to the show, get your mamma’s money THE DAY BEFORE!!! I ain’t going in D territory anymore!! Too much drama!!!”

Well, you learn that the single most important thing to gang-bangers is Respect. All of the above, seemingly ridiculous, psychological gymnastics surrounded the issue of Respect. Respect them, and they wouldn’t f*ck with you.

And if you hadn’t known or figured out the rules, well you were just shit out of luck. The rules are the rules. Break them and you’re in trouble. I knew the rules, and, in time, whether in Disciple territory [“D-THANG!!!”] or in Blackstone Ranger territory [“STONE TO THE BONE!!!”], I was always safe, and even developed friends. I gave Respect.

Well, one day, I saw this gang-banger I knew named Willie Bobo. “Bobo” was just his nickname. I go, “Willie, man, you need to get out of this GANG shit and come on down to The Afro-American New Society, brother, and help your people on a REAL tip.”

He looked at me and said, “Gang??!! Motherf*cker don’t you know that the biggest gang on earth IS IN THE F*CKIN’ WHITE HOUSE???!!!” Again: This was 1969, and from the words of a gang-banger friend of mine.

He then said, “AND, nigguh, you AIN’T nun-u-my motherf*ckin’ BROTHER!!” He pointed down the street, and said, “MY brother lives halfway down the block, nigguh! AND, if you WAS my brother, you’d stab me in my motherf*ckin’ BACK, as HE did, the lowdown son-of-a-BITCH!!! The nigguh STOLE MY MONEY on a crack deal. Now, get the F*CK out my face, until you find out about the REAL world you live in, you silly-assed motherf*ckin’, ‘Black Power’ NIGGUH!!!!” Black Power, back then, was a liberating term for us Black consciousness African-Americans. To be called a “Black Power nigguh [nigger]” was a bit……………..unsettling.

He turned his back, and bopped on down the street, “throwing them shoulders.” I stood there feeling like the IDIOT I really was. The White House? GANGSTERS?! It seems like, fifty-six years ago, Willie Bobo called it right.

White House GANGSTERS deal in TRILLIONS, as we saw in Ukraine. Remember?

Lindsey Graham, BIG time gangsta didn’t even try to talk in “diplomatic” terms. He’s a stomp-down, straight-no-chaser, in-yo-face, trillion-dollar-international-gangsta. So, whassup with our “new” administration in the White House? Will it be SOS (Same Old Shit), warmed all over? Or will it be even “better” and go stone to the bone? Stay tuned.

Trump Willie