Rion Scott - Insurrections

Buckwheat, what did you do to your head? she asked.

The Barber did it, I replied.

The Barber?

She stood in the doorway, trying and failing to process what I said.

You paid for that?

I didn’t respond. I walked to the next room and switched on the computer. My wife followed.

This is serious. God, you look crazy. Was he drunk or something? You should sue him for malpractice.

I don’t look so bad; it’s a new style.

New style? You look like some sort of pickaninny.

You don’t love me anymore?

No, get a haircut.

I can’t go back to him, baby. He’s losing it.

Then find another barber.

You don’t understand; he was the best. It’s like saying find a new wife.

Buckwheat, if I died, I’d want you to find another wife.

But it wouldn’t be the same. I paused. Wait, if I died, you’d find another husband?

We went back and forth for nearly an hour while I surfed the Internet, her insults becoming ever more ridiculous and cruel. At one point she hummed as I spoke, stopping only to tell me that she was humming the theme to Little Rascals . Somewhere along the line, I joked that I was planning to get dreadlocks.

Over my dead body, she said, waving her arms in the air. This made me more adamant.

Whatever. Next time you see me, I’ll look just like Bob Marley.

She finally settled on this: You can go ahead and get dreadlocks, but they have to look nice, she said. Nothing too scruffy. I’ll make an appointment for you at my salon.

Maybe I should get my toes done while I’m there, I said. I’m not going to a hair salon. That’s girly. It’s bad enough I have to sit around in a barbershop if I want to look normal, but now you want me to sit under a hairdryer discussing panties or whatever the hell it is y’all talk about. Uh-uh. I’ll do it myself.

I’m going to see if Shane can see you tomorrow.

I heard her in the next room calling the beauty salon. She joked and gossiped with Shane before getting to the point. While she talked, my mind danced far away from her and from Shane and even from The Barber and what he had done to my hair. The bright flashing images of L’Ouverture on the computer screen pained my eyes, but I didn’t look away. I read the bio on his website and muttered to myself, realizing every few moments that I was talking to no one.

Fucking piece of dog shit, I said. I played one of his songs, and it made me tap my foot, which made me even more angry. I searched for his address on the Northside and his phone number and every piece of useless information I could find. I stumbled upon yet another interview.

Above the din of my racing thoughts and the blaring music, my wife’s screaming broke through. Do you ever hear anything I say to you? When did you start listening to that garbage anyway? Damn. You got an appointment tomorrow after work.

Q. . . . . . . .

A. Yeah, from now on it’s Black Nietzsche. L’Ouverture is more of an old-school name, something the Personality Kliq gave me .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. It’s no disrespect to Black [Terror] or the Personality Kliq at all. [Shorty] Cool, Ph. Dubois, P-Nut, Dark Kent, Octavio the Clown, all of them. I love them niggas. Poison Eros, the fifth Beatle, the tenth member of Wu-Tang, the female Phoenix Starr, she on my Haitian Revolution piece. She the first voice you hear, singing and shit. So, we ain’t broken up. As soon as we get this financial shit straight and Black pay me the money he owe, we heading right back into the studio. And let’s be straight up, Black is the greatest rapper and producer in Cross River history, one of the best in rap ever, even if the shit he’s been putting out lately is a little weird. Why you laughing? Let’s be honest, it’s wack, right? Wouldn’t nobody even care nothing about me if it wasn’t for Black. His time is done, though. Black’s an old man. He’s out of touch. He need to move over and let us young dudes get some shine. I ain’t the only one thinking like this. [Shorty] Cool got a solo piece. So do Octavio [The Clown]. P-Nut and [Dark Kent] working on something on they own. Even Poison Eros don’t fuck with Black no more. I don’t know what went down between them, but he messed up by screwing her over .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. Let’s face it, Black is gonna make more money off the Personality Kliq than anyone else .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. Well, he owns the name. He produces most of the songs. I got to pay him to even use the logo; that’s why you don’t see the Kliq’s logo on any Problem With Authority shit. I can’t afford it. Slavery’s done, or so I heard. I got a wife and kids to feed. Why should I be hoeing that nigga’s field? L’Ouverture is done hoeing [laughs]. Let me not get too deep into that. I got into too much trouble last time some fool interviewed me …

Q. . . . . . . .

A. He misquoted me, made up shit and took my words out of context — everything a real journalist is not supposed to do. That fool made me look crazy. Fuck D’Arby Reid and Riverbeat Currents magazine. It’s another Cointelpro, they’re trying to discredit me and shut down something progressive, and the people ain’t gonna let them do it. Tell your man D’Arby that when I see him, I’m gonna punch him in his fucking face. I’m not Brad Pitt or someone like that. I’m from the Southside of Cross River. We don’t sue niggas. We punch them in their fucking faces .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. That interview messed up a lot of shit. Got the Kliq mad at me. My record company mad at me. Problem With Authority mad at me. They not playing my songs on the radio. They not playing my videos. Stores refusing to stock the CD. People want to buy it, but they can’t find it, so sales ain’t where they should be. I just wanted to be out on my own. I wanted to do what Black did. Wanted to show the nigga that I’m a man too. That I ain’t need him. I didn’t expect this shit to be so hard. I’m gonna be all right, but it’s a trying time. A real trying time .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. Well, what people don’t understand is that leading people is hard work. I feel like Huey P. Newton out this bitch. I got people’s careers in my hands. I have more respect for Black now. He still owe me money, but I got more respect for him. [Ed. Note: THE ECLECTIC contacted Black Terror for a response. He said: It hurts me when my brothers try to slander my name, but I still love that dude and all my bills are paid. ] When you a leader, you got to think about all kinds of shit outside yourself. Like for instance, my drummer’s kid got diabetes. If I fuck around, he don’t get insulin. I’m like Atlas, man. Call me the Black Atlas. When that cop got killed, it really slowed down a lot of shit for me .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. No, I never think that. The music needed — fuck that — needs to be made. So I can’t wonder what if, what if. My songs never ruined no one’s life. The dude that killed that cop ruined someone’s life. I’m a musician, not a hypnotist. I couldn’t make someone kill a cop if I wanted to. And let’s not forget to ask what the cop was doing. No one asks that. Look, man, that nigga Bigger Thomas decapitated a woman. I blame Richard Wright for every decapitation since Native Son been published. Don’t blame them A-rab niggas in Afghanistan, blame Richard Wright .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. How am I being flip? Look, ask me something else, let’s switch gears .

Q. . . . . . . .

A. I’m glad you asked that, ’cause don’t nobody ever ask me about that no more. The album’s called The Haitian Revolution, not Problem with Authority as the media’s been reporting. Problem With Authority is the band’s name. Fuck Meratti Entertainment Group, by the way. They stopped supporting my shit as soon as the police complained. But anyway, it’s a concept album about an immigrant, my character, Young L’Ouvertureman, who comes to America and gets picked on by his own folks, by the system, by everyone until he starts bucking back. It’s some real deep shit. Designed to make my people stand up, fight back. Real soulful, real stirring . My middle name’s Unabomber, tell ya mama, like I say on the record. The key thing about it is that it’s a story, a very universal and human story. Plus it got some funky music — I got to give it up to the band — and some of the most tripiotic lyrics since Phoenix Starr left the earth .