Antebellum (55 page)

Every once in a while, the boos would get louder than the cheers and vice versa, the crowd engaged in a noise war over which faction could be heard the loudest over the other. Eventually, the uniformed officers standing in the audience intervened, and the audio soldiers died down and eventually fell silent.

“Mr. Jenkins, welcome back.”

“Thanks for havin' me, Phil.”

“I don't even know where to start. We could spend all night talking about what's happened to you.”

“Yeah, I know. You ain't got that kinda time, though.”

“Tell me about it. Let's start with the question that everyone seems to be asking: Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind?”

I laughed whenever people asked me that, as if there were no other explanation for how I was acting.

“No, Phil, I'm not crazy.”

“What happened while you were in your coma?”

“I had a revelation. An epiphany. I just couldn't do things the same way anymore.”

“Okay, so tell me what happened with Cosmos Records?”

“I went to the execs at Cosmos and I told 'em I wanted all my old stuff taken out the stores. I ain't want it sold no more. They refused, of course, 'cause of the money they would lose. So for my next album, I went back, used the same beats from all my previous projects, and changed all the lyrics. According to my contract I still owed them records, so that is the record they got.”

“And they've accepted it?”

“They have to! I wasn't makin' anything else till I went over and re-recorded all my old stuff. I can't take my old albums away, but at least I can give the fans a choice, you know?”

“They threatened a lawsuit, didn't they?”

“Yeah. They tried to say I violated my contract by using the same beats, but it was all bull.”

“So how do you think the new album will perform?”

“It'll be crazy! For every fan I lose here in the U.S., I believe I'll gain ten overseas!”

“But will you lose fans here in the U.S.?”

“I'd imagine. Some people just can't feel what I'm tryin' to do, and that's cool. You can't force 'em.”

“Yes, but you have to admit, Moses, some of your new lyrics that have been leaked are a bit controversial...”

“Like which ones?”

“Let me see...” Phil went flipping through some of the papers he had on his desk. “Here's one.”

Subconsciously, here's what this CD is

Lyrically stopping racists from ever having a kid

I give 'em the biz

Like a slave fed up to his ears

And blowing off his master's powdered wig

I stayed small till my people needed me to get big

Till they needed my words to wipe away their tears

And if it takes for you to die for them to live

Then say goodbye to your family, thank the Lord for your year
s

“I mean, you're talking about killing people here, right?” he asked.

“I'm talkin' 'bout killing people who were tryin' to kill me or my ancestors back in the day. If you ain't a racist, then these lyrics shouldn't bother you.”

“And if a person is a racist?”

“Then they need to stay away from me. You know, it's crazy since the new music leaked how many people act offended by my lyrics. When I was talkin' 'bout shootin' other black folk in the head, nobody cared. I talk about killin' racists in one song and all of a sudden I'm a hatemonger and a terrorist. White folks is somethin' else, man.”

Phil made an innocent face at me. “Well, I'm white, Moses...”

“Then you somethin' else, Phil.”

We shared a laugh, while the audience remained tense.

“No, really Moses, come on. You've gotta admit that some of these new lyrics are problematic.” He shuffled more sheets and started to read again.

I am the insurrectionist

I stay smacking in sense

And fighting against

This white power

And this black ignorance

“Honestly, Moses, what white power are you talking about? This isn't the sixties anymore.”

“Phil, if you gotta ask, then that's all the inspiration I need to keep making music.”

“And look, here, at this one,” he continued.

If you're offended by my obvious spite

Then I suggest

you go upstairs and turn on the light

and if it just so happens

that your skin is white

then I can understand why this music

may cause you fright

I guess that

Symbolically I'm lookin' you in the face

And hocking up mucus and spitting it

In the name of my race

But you can't honestly tell me your place

In history's space

Doesn't justify the spit on your face

“Come on, Moses! You're talking about spitting in my face, here! How am I not supposed to take offense to that?”

“First of all, I said symbolically.”

“Oh yes, that changes everything.”

“Second, if you really look at the history of slaves in this country, ain't no reason why white folk don't deserve some metaphorical mucus.”

“Come on, Moses. This is racist! This is racist against white people!”

“How is it racist? I ain't callin' white folks names or tryin' to hang 'em from trees! All I'm sayin' is that I'm still pissed about my history. You got no idea what it's like to...well, I'm just still pissed off! And I got every right to put it in my music.”

“But what point are you trying to make by putting out music like this?”

“I didn't have a point when I started, just wanted to get a lot of stuff off my chest. Once the album drops, though, a point will kinda
make itself. It's obviously cool to talk about killing people in rap songs, as long as you not talkin' 'bout killing white people.”

“Why do you hate white people so much? I mean, do you really want to kill us like you say in your songs?”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?”

“Hey, look, I'm tryin' to be honest here. Couple months ago, yeah, I kinda did wanna kill some white folk. I had to go through some counselin', you know, see a shrink and all, and now I'm past all that. I just let it all out in my music.”

“I've heard you make it a point to have as little contact with white people as possible.”

“Yeah, that's true. That's just for my own sanity, you know?”

“Who goes into a coma and comes out hating white people, Moses?”

“I don't hate white people anymore.”

“What happened while you were in your coma?”

“I told you, I had a revelation.”

“But specifically, what happened?”

“I can't talk about it.”

“You can't, or you don't want to?”

“Both.”

“Something must have happened. You're a completely different person than when I interviewed you last.”

“I had a revelation, Phil. Let's leave it at that.”

Phil sat back in his seat, debating whether or not he wanted to push the issue. I hoped, for his sake, that he didn't. I could already feel Xavier getting fidgety behind me.

“Alright, let's move on. Tell me about your newfound wealth.”

“Well, it turns out that I made more money while I was in the coma than I ever had before. The sales of my records and merchandise
and everything. Since I wasn't spendin' any of it, it just all piled up in an account. So, my beautiful wife—”

“Who we will come back to, because that's yet another unexpected turn in the life of Moses Jenkins.”

“I wouldn't say it was unexpected, but anyways, my wife suggested I invest it. I bought a lil bit of real estate here and there, you know, but then I found out about AudioTech.”

“The music software company?”

“Yeah. They had a product they said changed the way people heard music. First, I was like whatever, you know, they just fakin', but then I heard it, and I was sold. They needed money, so I gave 'em some.”

“I think you're downplaying the situation a bit, Mr. Jenkins. Didn't you become part owner of the company?”

“Yeah.”

“So then what happened?”

“We got bought out.”

“I love the way you can talk about this like it's just not that big of a deal.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I mean, it is what it is.”

“So who bought you all out?”

“Microsoft.”

“For how much?”

“I'm not really at liberty to say, Phil.”

“Well...can you give us a hint?”

“Let's put it this way—between the money I made from the deal, and the money I'm still bringin' in from the music and stuff, I'm s'posed to make the bottom of the
Forbes
list in a couple months.”

“For the richest people in the country?”

“Yep.”

“I didn't know that.”

“Yeah, they jus' called me last week. They said I'll probably be the most controversial person they've ever had on it.”

Phil looked genuinely amazed as he shook his head. “To make the
Forbes
list, you've gotta be...wow...”

“Phil, chill out, man.”

“So you're a billionaire hatemonger?”

I laughed out loud.

“I'm not a hatemonger, Phil. If I was a billionaire hatemonger, though, which I'm not, I wouldn't be the only one out here. I'd just be the only black one. But like I said, I'm not a hatemonger.”

He stared in awe for another second, then shook himself out of his stupor. “How does your wife feel about this? Your wife and former manager.”

“Oh, she's still my manager. She don't trust nobody else with the job. She jus' got some staff now.”

“She looks like she had an extreme makeover.”

“Y'all act like she was ugly before! SaTia wasn't never ugly, she jus' dressed like she was always on the job.”

“And now?”

“Well, you can see for yourself.”

A picture flashed on the screen of SaTia in one of her more elegant dresses, one she'd worn to the Grammy Awards.

“She looks like a model, Moses. Seriously.”

“Yeah, I know. I put that ring on her finger and it was all downhill from there.”

“Does she act different now that you're married?”

“Naw, not really. Matter of fact, she stronger than ever. You know she runs the organizations, right?”

“Yes, I do, and I wanted to talk to you about that. I'm glad you brought it up. In the last year, you've started two organizations, correct?”

“Yeah. There's Pride Roka, and Sarah's Seeds, both of which my wife oversees. One is for men, and the other for women.”

“And...this has been another source of controversy, correct?”

“It's whatever...I mean, it has, but it's all bullsh...I can't say that on the air, can I?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, it's all lies. We only got twenty-four people, twelve men and twelve women, and people already talkin' 'bout we teachin' hate. All we talk 'bout is lovin' ourselves and knowin' where we came from.”

“What about the two young men from Pride Roka that assaulted the group of white men downtown?”

“The way I was told, them white guys called my two guys niggers. Say what you want 'bout my organization, but I got no problem sayin'—you call anybody from Pride Roka or Sarah's Seeds a nigger, you be lucky to just get beat down. Real talk.”

A faction of the audience burst into cheers and applause, while the rest began booing and screaming. We stopped talking for a while as the police struggled to get order back amongst the crowd. Four people were escorted out and after five minutes, we were able to continue.

“And this isn't hate speech to you at all, Mr. Jenkins?” Phil continued.

“Hell no, this ain't hate speech! If you gonna get on my folks for reactin' if somebody calls them nigger, then tell the Jews stop gettin' people fired and blackballed for bein' anti-Semitic! Tell the Irish to quit fightin' people over they heritage. Why every time black folk stand up and be proud, we always gotta be seen as bein' violent and hateful, huh? If y'all scared of us, jus' say y'all scared of us and let's take it from there, but stop tryin' to say that we violent jus' 'cause we love our people!”

“And I guess your new rap lyrics aren't hate speech either, right?”

“What I spit in my songs is truth; no more and no less.”

“Well...” Phil began gathering up the papers around his desk. “I think it's safe to say that you've established yourself as one of the most controversial, and maybe even dangerous, people in this country.”

I shook my head. “See, Phil, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout. I'm dangerous 'cause I want black folk to be proud of themselves, huh?”

“No, you're dangerous because you convince black people to hate white people.”

“That's not true. I've never, not in a song, not in my organization, ever told anyone to hate white people. I tell people to know they history.”

“Do you know your history, Moses? Do you know that white people have championed the causes of African-Americans in this country for decades? White people were doing sit-ins with blacks, white people marched on Washington with Dr. King, white people got killed fighting for civil rights the same way blacks did! Do you know your history, Mr. Jenkins?”

“I've lived it, Phil.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I've lived my history. So you can't tell me a damn thing.”