I Hate Being Black: Author's Unedited Edition

By Spyder Duane Hughes

"I Hate Being Black", written by Hip Hop pioneer Spyder D, is a direct derivative of his song of the same title. The song was written based off of his real life personal experiences, and was further elaborated on during the writing of the book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483531533

Book preview

Hughes

Chapter 1- Born Too Soon

It is now the year 2014. Slavery, a blight upon the history of this great nation, had such a powerful stranglehold on this country, that people died to uphold it, and people died to abolish it.

To be treated like trained animals is the ultimate evil that any race can put upon another. It has existed since man has existed in one form or another and the attitude and ignorance were very prevalent at the time I was born, and unfortunately, in this modern day time of social networking and global internet linking the whole world, prejudice, ignorance, cruelty and segregation have not been eradicated.

When a child is born, any child, it is born with the innocence and heart that is completely pure.

Prejudice and inequality are things that are learned while growing up.

No child, African American, Caucasian, or of any descent, comes out of the womb spewing racial epithets.

I happened to be born on March 15th, 1960 at St Francis' Hospital where my Father, John Hughes worked.

I am Sidney Duane Hughes, professionally known in the sports and entertainment world as Spyder D.

So tiny and small at birth, I was only 3 pounds and ten ounces and had to remain in the hospital for an entire month according to what my parents have told me. Medical science and postnatal care for preemie babies in 1960 was no where near what it is today. I am probably lucky to have survived.

I was due in April, but God must have wanted me to be a Pisces. Apparently, it was my destiny to inherit the traits (imaginative and creative), which are the typical traits of one born under that zodiac sign.

The place I was born in Peoria, Illinois. Also the birthplace of Richard Pryor. In fact, my family and Richard were good friends. My mother told me the story of how her singing group once lost a talent contest to Pryor, who had already begun showing the talent that was to make him the greatest comedian of all time.

Peoria also had some other claims it could boast; The original mold strain for penicillin was discovered by scientists in Peoria. The first African American person to vote in the United States did so in Peoria on April 4, 1870. Peorian Herb Jamison was a medalist in the first modern Olympics in Greece in 1896. A short list of native Peorians include the late Senator Everett Dirksen and Betty Friedan, author of The Feminine Mystique as well as Richard Pryor.*

My Father John C. Hughes and childhood friend Richard Pryor in the early 70’s

The sixties were a tumultuous time for African Americans as their rights as citizens of the United States were on a different tier than those of Caucasians.

By the time I was born, the Civil Rights Movement was well underway as leaders both black and white strained to understand why our country, which even then, had thought itself to be the greatest nation in the world, was not adhering to it's own constitution.

About a month or so before I came into this world, this milestone in the movement occurred in Greensboro, N.C.:

Four black students from North Carolina Agricultural and Technical College began a sit-in at a segregated Woolworth's lunch counter. Although they are refused service, they are allowed to stay at the counter. The event triggers many similar nonviolent protests throughout the South. Six months later the original four protesters are served lunch at the same Woolworth's counter. Student sit-ins would be effective throughout the Deep South in integrating parks, swimming pools, theaters, libraries, and other public facilities.**

The sixties would produce a number of events like this, that would shape the history of this country and Black America, including assassinations of the most powerful leaders in the Civil Rights Movement; President John F. Kennedy and his brother Robert F. Kennedy along with the leader, The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, who was struck down in April of 1968, which set off a series of riots in major cities of Urban America.

In 1964, we moved to New York City, and though I was still relatively naive and innocent, I began witnessing what I thought to be normal; like the local Black Panther party being raided by the police on Liberty Avenue in Hollis, Queens. I was brainwashed as an innocent child to think that people who had the same color of skin as me, must be bad people because they were the only people I saw being accosted by the police. I was led to believe by the local newscasts that organizations like the Black Panthers must be some kind of gang that were doing unlawful things as they were always on the television news being handcuffed and arrested.

I remember very vividly, the day after the assassination of Martin Luther King, my mother waking me up, sobbing uncontrollably. I was only eight at the time, but I asked her, Mom, what's wrong? She