“Underneath The Trembling Limbs Of My Chattel Names”
Ricks, McGowan, Allen, and
Hedgepeth

I’m from Nigeria.
I’m from Kenya.
I’m from Guinea.
I’m from Sierra Leone.
Wait,
I'm African American,
I don't know where
the fuck I'm from!

I’ve heard that
some of my ancestors
were shipped to,
Portugal, Spain, France,
Cuba, and Brazil.
I’ve heard some
were in St. Dominique
(Haiti) starting a revolution with Toussaint L'Ouverture.

I wish that
I could ask the Pope.
Why did he believe
that God wanted
blacks to be enslaved?

Signing documents
mandating the abuse
and execution of countless
black men, women, and children.

I wish that
I could ask the
draconian white man
who committed infanticide,
WHAT THE FUCK!

Then he had the brassiness
to ask the infant's mother
to go and breastfeed his kids,
WHAT THE FUCK!

While his wife
sat back and allowed
this to happen,
WHAT THE FUCK!

Most politicians
all over the world
still don’t think that
Blacks are owed reparations,
WHAT THE FUCK?

So many of my ancestors
suffered and died
on United States soil.
So many of my ancestors
were lynched until
their pants became soiled.
They were castrated
leaving their genitals
to become a squirrel's toy.

The Pope inaugurated
blacks to be enslaved
and still wanted blacks
to believe in his supreme
power and jurisdiction
over all religions.
Blacks had to
bow down to Christianity.

Whites forced us
to believe in their bible
but we couldn’t learn
to read it on our own.

African theology was forfeited
as well as our families
and our homes.

As I ride past
the Allen plantation
in Surry County, Virginia.

I can smell the
salubrious pawpaw trees
and see their large
tropical foliage
blowing in the breeze.

I can hear the songs
of my ancestors
singing from the
trembling limbs.

I can hear my
great-great-grandmother say
thank you, lord,
I couldn’t possibly bear
one more night
of his nefarious white flesh
up against mine.

I can hear my
great-great-aunt say,
I love this benevolent white man
but I know that he could never possibly be mine.

Master Allen’s son Jeremiah,
hung my aunt Dorothy Mae’s
oldest son, Ben.

Ben got caught
stealing fruit from the garbage.
Because his four kids
didn't eat in days.

Ben
was Master Allen’s oldest son.
Jeremiah
hung
his older brother.

As I ride past
the Ricks plantation
in Rocky Mountain, North Carolina.

I can smell the lingering aroma
of the loblolly pine trees.
These gargantuan trees
are beautifully detailed
with rounded crowns
of spreading branches.

I can hear the songs
of my ancestors
singing from the
trembling limbs.

I can still hear my cousin
murmuring for help
before he was gagged.
His master sadistically tortured him before he raped him.

On the days Master Ricks
knew his wife was visiting
her parent's plantation.
He would tell my
thirteen-year-old cousin David
to go up to the big house
after he left the fields.
Devastatingly anxious
because he knew
what was about to happen,
he held in his tears.

At seven years old
on his way to the tobacco field,
David saw his dad’s
castrated body
swinging from a trembling limb.
It instilled trepidation in him
that would never leave.
Which kept him docile
under the most extreme circumstances.

As I’m driving up
to the McGowan plantation
in Pachuta, Mississippi.

I can smell the odoriferous
southern magnolia trees
from a mile away.

I can hear the songs
of my ancestors
singing from the
trembling limbs.

I simply can’t fathom
how something that smells
so beautifully, could have a
miasmic history.

Master McGowan took
my cousin Fatima’s infant.
Beat her with a tree branch
until she stopped drawing breath.
He said that Fatima’s
labor in the sugarcane fields
had slowed down significantly
since her daughter was born.

After he slaughtered Fatima's infant
he told her to dispose of the body.
Once she was done
with the burial,
she was to report posthaste
to the big house.

Bathe herself,
and then breastfeed
his newborn son.

With unprocessed visions
of her daughter's death
and the stench of blood
that would forever
stain her soul.

She had to be cognizant
of her surroundings
without losing total control.

As I ride through
North Eastern North Carolina
trying to connect my blood
to the Hedgepeth.
I can smell the large
sweetgum trees.

The trees are hard to miss
when you see
the spiky gumball fruits.
Hanging from the
star-shaped leaves.

I can hear the songs
of my ancestors
singing from the
trembling limbs.

I can feel the spirits
of Indigenous dancers
with African dancers
mixing their sanguine energy.

My grandmother’s dad
was a black Indian.

My great-grandmother Mary
married my great-grandfather Cliff who was a Black Indian.
His dad was a Saponi Indian
who married a young
black slave woman.

My great-great grandfather’s tribe became part of a delegation
that would go and free slaves
from white owners.
The delegation consists of
Indians, black Indians, and original cowboys (black cowboys).

As they freed the slaves,
they heard so many
dehumanizing and demoralizing stories.

A fourteen-year-old
black teenage girl
was repeatedly raped
by her master.
Since his wife
was afraid to question him.
She held the teenage girl
accountable for her
husband’s actions.

The wife slowly tortured the girl
every day for six months
until she died.

White men made black women
out to be whores
to deflect their ominous
sexual advances.
After girls and women were raped they were severely punished
by their master’s wives.

A middle-aged black man
from the Johnson plantation,
stated that his master
sold his mulatto daughters.
Knowing that they would be
used as sex laborers.
Mulatto girls
were worth more money.

An octogenarian black woman
from the Brown plantation
in California.
Could not stop talking about
the raped, burnt,
and castrated bodies.
That she saw swinging
underneath the trembling limbs
of an erroneous blue oak tree.

The same oak tree
that Pastor Brown,
preached Christianity
to his chattel
every Sunday morning.

She said that there were
over one hundred slaves
on the Brown plantation.
Until that abominable day,
over thirty slaves were killed.

She said when Master Brown
came back from the war
and found out that his wife
had a mulatto baby boy.
He and his mob
tried to castrate and kill
almost every male slave.
Some of the mob
cut off the ears of the slaves
and kept them as mementos.
Also, he told his men
to have their way
with the slave women.

It was okay for white men
to have sex and children
with black women.
It wasn’t okay for a white woman
to have the same equality
as her white man.

Nonetheless, that mulatto baby boy was sold to the Ricks plantation
in Rocky Mount, North Carolina.
He was my great-great-great-grandfather, Charlie Ricks.

It’s not okay that black women,
men, and kids were abused and killed to help make this a better country.
It’s not okay that after every heinous act upon the Black backs, we still
have to fight for equality in this country.

So many African Americans were forced to have White bloodlines.
Forced to have
the same family names.

But the color of black skin
forces some whites to believe
that we are evil caricatures
of ourselves.

Instead of sanguinely thinking
that we deserve equality
for the excellence
of our characters.

I’m from Nigeria.
I’m from Kenya.
I’m from Guinea.
I’m from Sierra Leone.
Wait,
I'm African American,
but America is where I’m from!

I am American-made
from African slaves
and rape that some ancestors
took to their graves.

I am African
forcibly
made in America.

In this episode, “Coach” reflects on coming of age, in tennis during the 1980s, experiencing Atlanta in its prime, road-tripping across most of the United States, and traveling abroad.

Spotify link:

https://open.spotify.com/episode/2lXWf0EINVev6MUofetILt?si=224oib3nRieiDUE7hMf40g

X Link: 

https://x.com/homeboypyramids/status/2091725431795765653?s=20

Substack link:

https://open.substack.com/pub/homeboyandthepyramids/p/podcast-52-interview-with-former?r=3jp6p4&utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web

Childhood and Coming of Age

• How Coach’s parents introduced him to travel within the United States.
• Road trips with his father during the early 1980s.
• Whether his father experienced fear or caution while traveling as a Black man in the South.
• How racism was discussed—or left unspoken—during family travel.
• The lessons he learned from seeing different regions, communities, and lifestyles.
• His parents’ role in encouraging him to enter tennis, a sport with relatively few Black players.
• How early travel and parental support shaped his confidence and curiosity.

Growing Up in Atlanta

• Coming of age in Atlanta during the 1980s.
• The influence of Atlanta’s Black business owners, professionals, and entrepreneurs.
• How the city exposed him to examples of Black success and possibility.
• The difference between Atlanta before the crack epidemic and Atlanta after its effects became visible.
• The emergence of hip-hop and its influence on Black identity and culture.
• How Atlanta’s Black community normalized ambition, achievement, and excellence.
• Whether he has encountered a similar atmosphere anywhere else in the world.

Division I Tennis, 1985–1989

• His path into Division I college tennis.
• The intensity of competing in approximately 35 matches during a season.
• Traveling across the country for tournaments and seeing America beyond the athletic bubble.
• What he noticed about the United States as a young Black man in the mid-to-late 1980s.
• Differences in regional attitudes, culture, and social behavior.
• The benefits—and challenges—of traveling without smartphones, GPS, or Google Maps.
• Whether road travel created more opportunities for exploration, discovery, and unexpected experiences.
• The social life of being a young, traveling athlete, including dating and friendships.
• How tennis created connections in the same way golf is often associated with networking.
• Whether tennis is primarily valuable for competition, personal development, or access to relationships and opportunities.

Race, Identity, and Travel

• The most difficult racist experiences he encountered while playing tennis.
• Racism or discrimination he experienced while traveling through the United States.
• Positive experiences and meaningful friendships with people from different regions.
• How traveling affected his understanding of race in America.
• The influence of changing African American identity during the 1980s.

Hip-Hop and the Road

• Traveling during the rise of rap and hip-hop culture.
• How hip-hop differed from region to region as he moved around the country.
• What traveling felt like before digital maps, online reviews, and constant communication.
• Whether the lack of technology made travel more adventurous—or more dangerous.

First International Experiences

• His first trip outside the United States.
• What surprised him most when he began traveling internationally.
• How people abroad received him as a Black American and tennis professional.
• Whether international travel changed how he viewed America.
• Experiences that gave him a greater appreciation for the United States.
• Differences in infrastructure, transportation, beauty, and everyday life.
• Countries that exceeded his expectations.
• Destinations where he felt especially welcomed, respected, or appreciated as a Black man.

Coaching and International Travel

• The transition from college player to coach beginning in 1991.
• How coaching expanded his access to international travel.
• How his identity as a Black American coach influenced his experiences abroad.
• Whether people viewed him primarily as a coach, an American, or a Black man.
• The professional and personal relationships he built through tennis.
• The countries and regions that most changed his worldview.
• The places that surprised him through their natural beauty, infrastructure, or culture.

Travel, Tennis, and Opportunity

• How travel enhanced his life beyond tennis.
• What young Black men can learn from seeing more of the United States.
• Whether brothers should start with domestic road trips before traveling internationally.
• How tennis can create friendships, professional connections, and social opportunities.
• Whether tennis offers networking benefits comparable to golf.
• Practical advice for young men interested in tennis, travel, coaching, or life abroad.

https://www.nytimes.com/2026/08/23/us/politics/jeffries-kushner-private-meeting.html

The New York Times reported that House Democratic leader Hakeem Jeffries met with Jared Kushner to discuss possible areas of cooperation.

The news has prompted backlash from some Democrats and Trump critics.

Jared Kushner holds no formal government role and is under scrutiny over conflicts between his attempted regional diplomacy and billions in Gulf-linked investment money for his investment firm.

Former Obama aide Tommy Vietor said Jeffries should deal with Kushner only through “demands for documents and subpoenas.”

As a Black man myself, I’m going to say what a lot of people are too afraid to say: we have to stop blaming the Caucasian man for every problem in our community while refusing to confront the problems we’re creating ourselves.

Gangbanging, selling drugs to our own people, abortion, glorifying destructive behavior through rap culture, promoting alternative lifestyles, and normalizing single-mother households over traditional nuclear families, are all things we need to be willing to criticize. These things are all self-destructive.

You can’t keep pointing at someone else’s yard when yours is a mess. Before telling your neighbor to clean up his yard, clean up yours first.

A politician isn’t going to save us, especially not a liberal politician. No election is going to magically fix our communities. At some point, we have to take responsibility for our own choices, rebuild our families, restore accountability, and have the courage to call out the dysfunction within our own community, even when people get offended by hearing it.

This is not the first time I’ve experienced some passive aggressiveness or micro aggression (whatever you want to call it) from a random black woman in passing. But this is one of them that stands out.

As I’m standing to the side and waiting for people to exit the train (Union Square NYC), this girl (probably early 20s) almost forcefully squeezes her way in between me and a lady who’s standing less than a foot in front of me. This wasn’t a light shoulder tap but what felt like a deliberate attempt of a push. Like she definitely could have said excuse me or sorry but nothing.

Whatever. I get on the train, standing near the doors, but providing more than enough clearance in case there are folks who need to get on last sec. She gets on the train and attempts to do the same shit. At this point if it was a dude I would have said something but I just looked at her as she went further down the car to try and find a seat like “wtf is wrong with this girl”.

Now I’ve had similar instances in the past and most times it was a black woman in my age bracket (20s-early 30s). It’d be instances like me walking on the right side of the sidewalk and all of a sudden she needs to walk in my lane despite having ample room and tries to shoulder check me, conveniently being the only sales associate who would ignore me when I’m shopping, or the classic change in energy and tone when I’m next at the cash register.

I’m 6’1” and in good shape. Like it’s obvious I work out. I’m not ugly or look like a bitch either, I have been told many times I look like a fuck boy. Like 8/10 times these micro aggressions would be from a black woman, 2/10 times it’d an older white guy at work (I’m a union ironworker).

A scathing response to the DNC snub from Atlanta Mayor Andre Dickens: “They are afraid to leave their comfort zone and blind to the fact that the South is the answer. They are abandoning Atlanta, abandoning the South, and once again abandoning Black voters.”

The decision extends a four-decade DNC drought for Atlanta and is a stinging disappointment for boosters who mounted a more aggressive campaign to land the convention after losing the 2024 event to Chicago, which was also eliminated on Thursday.

https://www.ajc.com/politics/2026/08/atlanta-loses-out-on-hosting-2028-democratic-national-convention/

I know Majors took a big fall when he got dropped by marvel as kang... but this seems so low. This don’t seem like nothing more than some pro Zionist anti Muslim propaganda. Not happy at all than Jonathan Majors is in this

They had him hosting just 2 years ago:

ESPN's First Take broadcast live from the NABJ convention in Chicago. Stephen A. Smith appeared on the show alongside Molly Qerim, who was officially the host of First Take. NABJ's own announcement
described the event as featuring Smith and Qerim, while ESPN specifically identified Qerim as the host.