growing up, one of my mom’s favorite things to cook (mostly for my dad) was smothered fried chicken. i hated it. not the fried chicken, but the gravy. wet fried chicken? that delicious, moist, yard bird drenched in gravy, why would you do that? every time she’d cook it and put it on my plate, i’d peel the slimy skin back, pick at it and just eat whatever sides she cooked. but i craved the chicken; just plain fried chicken.
a few weeks ago, i attended a lecture to hear black panther founder bobby seale. his lecture was titled resistance: from the 60’s to trump. it was great. i listened, snapped a few pictures of the legend and talked at length with his photographer, lauren jackson. he spoke for over an hour. like dr. dre in the lab, he layered stories of desire with action and engineered a masterpiece that left me yearning. some quotes from the lecture:
“inject yourself into a situation.” – bobby seale
“i believed in organizing. paying attention to all the particulars and specifics.” – bobby seale
“they beat me up in jail, tried to break my spirit. but that didn’t stop me.” – bobby seale
“yea i’m 81 years old. i’m here.” – bobby seale
“you have to have an eye. i knew i had an eye.” – lauren jackson
eventually, i realized what i had to do about that smothered fried chicken. i asked my mom not to smother mine anymore. from then on, she didn’t. my craving was satisfied. whatever you crave, ask for it or as my friend candice told me awhile back, “if it’s not there, create it.” thanks, bobby.