There are lives that refuse spectacle and still command a room. Mr. Wilkens carried a peculiarly American burden with grace, coaching while playing, teaching while enduring, and choosing generosity over noise. The life he built is a text we must read carefully.
Displacement is not simply economic. It is cultural erasure. What is happening at Garfield is not just the loss of coaches. It is the quiet unraveling of legacy.
The assassination of Charlie Kirk is not about agreeing with him. I rarely did. It is about what happens when we normalize killing as a response to disagreement. Kirk was not a civil rights leader or a voice for the oppressed, but celebrating his death sets a dangerous precedent. History shows us that when violence becomes acceptable, it eventually targets those fighting for justice. Debate should test ideas, not end lives. If we cheer today, we risk creating a culture where tomorrow even voices we value can be silenced.
Coach Dave Belmonte helped shape Seattle basketball not only through his wins, but through the players and coaches he mentored. His legacy is woven into the city’s basketball identity.
Greatness has never been defined by talent alone. The ring, the road, and the trial have always shaped the legacies of the game’s giants. From Jordan’s perfection on the biggest stage to Shaq’s three straight Finals MVPs, history has always weighed how players rise in the moment. That truth cannot be erased by revisionism.
This is a turning point for Black people across the African Diaspora. As Western power declines and African nations reclaim their sovereignty, new pathways are opening. These are the very paths our ancestors dreamed of and our elders fought to keep alive. The visions of Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, Kwame Nkrumah, and Muammar Gaddafi were never rooted in acceptance by empires built on our suffering. They were rooted in global Black unity, shared wealth, and self-determination. Africa is rising. So must we. The fall of neocolonial influence on the continent is not just a shift in politics. It is an invitation to reconnect, to invest, to rebuild. Black communities around the world have the chance to form direct relationships with the African continent, free from Western gatekeepers. We are not destined to live on the margins of systems designed to exploit us. We are heirs to a global legacy and capable of shaping the next chapter of history. This is more than a political moment. It is a generational opportunity. The question is not whether we belong in the future. The question is whether we are ready to lead it.
Black filmmakers have never simply told stories. They have reclaimed history, challenged false narratives, and built culture that shapes generations. From Malcolm X to Boyz n the Hood, these films did more than entertain. They educated, empowered, and demanded recognition. Their creators did not wait for permission. They built their own lanes, ensuring that Black stories would not just be told but told correctly.
Black capitalism is unique because it has had no choice but to be. It has been defined by its need to function in opposition, to build wealth that does not exploit but sustains, to find ways to exist in a system that has sought to erase it. This is not an argument for blind faith in capitalism. It is not a dismissal of the way capitalism has harmed Black people. It is a recognition that Black economic strategies have always been different. They have never been about conquest. They have been about survival. If the word capitalism carries too much weight, if it conjures images of greed and destruction, then call it something else. Call it what it has always been: resistance. Call it what it has always meant: survival. Call it what it has always sought to build: a future that cannot be stolen.
York’s contributions were essential to the success of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Without him, they might not have survived. He hunted for food when supplies ran low, traded with Indigenous tribes to secure safe passage, and endured the same grueling conditions as his white counterparts. Decades later, Buffalo Soldiers faced a similar contradiction, serving a nation that had freed them from slavery but used them to oppress others.
The Slam Dunk Contest was never just about the types of dunks being performed. It was about who was dunking. The excitement, the energy, and the cultural significance of the contest have always been tied to the players participating. Legends like Julius Erving, Michael Jordan, Vince Carter, and Kobe Bryant helped shape the contest into a spectacle. However, in recent years, superstar participation has declined. The NBA has struggled to uphold its traditions, and the dunk contest has lost its prestige. Restoring its status requires bringing back the league’s biggest names to honor the legacy of the event.
Thoughts Processed 