JAF MAGAZINE ARCHIVE: THE JOURNALISM

The United State of Cool

By Mercer Helms
JAF Magazine 2011

NEW YORK CITY: What a name, what a place, what a effing city it must be to live in. New York is one of the most fascinating places I have been able to grace my glorious souls upon recently. Wanna know why, keep reading my short and to the point intro into my visual take on it all. Unhindered and relentlessly exuberant, this is New York, this is the 'United State of Cool'.

I arrived in Newark Airport and immediately after making my first steps on American ground I was on a train across the bridge and into the heart, I breathed a fresh breath into my lungs, or what could be considered as a fresh breath and I was running on an open mind. An energy came over me as I arrived closer to the big apple after all the time spend simply wondering. I was getting closer, the smell was brilliant, I don't know what it was but I immediately noticed, New York has a smell and it was weirdly nice.

It had been a long time in the making, through the childhood, entering adulthood, obsessing with the films not to mention all the friends talking and bigging up the apple like it was a creative haven I needed to see. I had finally managed to peel myself away from my complicated life and bought a flight, within a few days I shot across the Atlantic to this concrete haven so many talked off, to see this place that I had wondered for many a year.

I was off that train mentally running into the city like I was a 6 year old discovering candy for the first time. I was excited to say the least. The movies give you a good sense of the place, being that the classics and many cinematic master pieces where created here, but I suddenly got the impression it wasn't going to really prepare me for my first real New York breath. Once I stepped off the train, out of the underground I was nervous, nervous to see something that had heavily influenced my life without myself really knowing it. I came to a flight of stairs, I could feel the air flowing from above, I could hear this buzz and energy that was now only 50ft or so away from me, New York was calling.

I began my climb, and like a baby seeing light for the first time, out of this hole in the ground I walked out into a jungle, and into a city empowering in the grandness that simply takes your breath away, I was in awe at the scale. It took a blink of an eye to fully see and realize the vast and intrinsic story's my buddies told me back in the day, I instantly knew why they gave such graces, this place was rocking. I was right I wasn't prepared but I loved that. I stood there in a trance for minutes just staring, listening, smelling New York, it was alive, it's like a giant heart and you can feel and hear it's beat.

Every which way I turned, I had a skyscraper that looked like it was reaching into the heavens, long stretches of road full of every car this planet can conjure up. Taxis where everywhere like they were boasting a strike and came to congregate in protest. There was no strike!!, truly amazing.

People coming at me from everywhere, funnily I noticed a few stereotypical charms. The business New Yorker, paper under arm, coffee in hand, talking hands free to a client in the med probably, "fuck you can't be serious" I swear I heard him say. The central park jogging girl, the stressed out business man, the born and bread new Yorkers, somehow you can just tell. Dog walkers and the spoilt kids with their daddy's credit cards. I was even lucky enough to catch a street show happening right where i came out from the subway, the beats where blaring and the kids where spinning, it was unusual, as you would have to pay to see this back home. It was almost like it was for me, it was my New York style welcome show, ''hey I can imagine can't I"?.

Traffic lights looked more like a start to a race, everyone lined up, ready, set, GREEN!! Off they go into New York's busy abyss. It is a nonstop moving picture, nothing seems to stay still, there was always something happening.

This was inside a few moments of walking out from the underground. After my initial shock and awe, I walked and when I say walked, I mean I walked, EVERYWHERE. I didn't care where I went I just knew I needed to. 1st street to 130th street and beyond, across the Brooklyn bridge and back, into some quaint dodgy looking corner markets, through central park, around central park, power napped in central park. Up to the 80th floor of the empire state and the top of the world, down again. Ate sushi in a sushi bar, drank a cold one in a jazz club, did KFC, New York style, met some peeps, hung out at the statue of liberty, checked out Elise island, read, shopped, peed in a toilet paved with marble. Met a lovely lady in subway, we ate a cookie together.

This was all without really trying. You see New York knocked my socks off, it's like the city is this energy with an open mind and everything is possible, this city will give give and give some more. All you have to do is lap it up.

I was that kid in a candy store eating far too many sweets. I didn't care. I was loving it. I felt like I walked down every street, walked every park, sat on every bench, met every New Yorker. This city in one day already convinced me to relocate. it's a marvel, a maze, a world in a world, it has it's own charm and charisma, it has its own thriving, pulsating, breathing soul.

I'm not sure my visuals do it justice. Capturing moments of what I think exude New York. If you have been, you know what I'm talking about, if not, then be spontaneous, get your asses and your hinnies over there, I truly believe you haven't existed until, you see, breath and touch this place and take that illusive New York breath of air.

The United State of Cool.

WRITTEN BY MERCER HELMS

FOR JAF MAGAZINE 2011
www.jafmagazine.com

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Chased By the Klan

By Leilani Haywood

JAF Magazine issue one 2011

My husband, Jerome, was about 6-years-old when he was walking down a road in the middle of nowhere Mississippi. A group of white guys drove by him, hit their brakes and slowly backed up. He felt their menacing stares bore into him when they passed and the cold rush of air swept over him. It was a hot steamy summer and instinctively he started running.

The men got out of their truck and started chasing him down that lone country road. The thud of their steps behind him seemed a breath behind him and yet he ran. He ran and ran and ran until he came to his house. The men never reached him but instinctively he knew it was Klansmen.

The Klu Klux Klan terrorized children, men, women just because of the color of their skin. My kids can’t imagine a world where you could die just because of the color of your skin. But my husband grew up in the unrest of desegregation in the South.

My husband remembers as if it was yesterday the men who were kidnapped from their homes and lynched because of what they believed in. He remembers even boys his age being killed because of the color of their skin. Fear and terror ruled the South until one man took a stand for what was right.

Martin Luther King wasn’t a perfect man, but I’m amazed to this day, that he was in his early 30s when he led the civil rights movement. A fiery Baptist preacher, his words captured and moved a whole nation. My kids are clueless about the struggle and injustice that their father witnessed daily. I hope we never forget why we’re celebrating Martin Luther King Day.

Martin Luther King Day isn’t just a day to remember the greatness of a man, but a reminder to continue doing what is right. A reminder of why Martin Luther King, Jr. and millions of young men and women did to take a stand for justice. I don’t know the casualties of those who were killed – both black and white – during the Civil Rights era. But I know many paid with their own lives.

I’ve often wondered where are those voices of righteousness that can stir a whole nation to do what is just. A voice that speaks for the voiceless — those who have no power. A voice that would speak for a child ruled by fear and terror. A voice that speaks up for the women abandoned by their husbands. A voice that speaks up for the men who have been stripped of their dignity and ability to provide for their family.

I know someone who does speak up and my prayer is that many more would join him and his cause. Steve Gray, a pastor, author, and budding moviemaker speaks up for the victims of a system gone wrong. He is the voice for the voiceless, the powerless and those who have been robbed of what rightfully belongs to them – experiencing the presence of God.

We need more voices that will stop the fear and terror that constantly threaten our nation. Will you speak up for what is right? Will you be a voice for the voiceless and powerless?