Big Brother: The Movie

In a recent conversation with my father he explained that the only way he got through his days as a freelance graphic designer was knowing that no matter what he had to deal with, or how broke he was, or whatever else might be bothering him, he always had me to come home to. And I would have a story or something show him or something I wanted us to watch together. And in that, I would always make things better for him. While I don't have a child, a fact that the activities of both friends and family constantly remind me of, I do have my sisters, and they are such a joy indeed.

As they progress into their teens I have suddenly become a wealth of knowledge about the grownup world, a person who can give them insight and experiences without the judgement and censorship that is a part of good, sensible parenthood. Looking at my Facebook photo Annia says that she's sure I'm a player. This made me laugh so hard that I forgot that I woke up in crappy mood this morning. Knowing that I introduced Imani to Battlestar Galactica, a show she is all but obsessed with after I bought her the first two seasons, I don't worry so much about the uncertainty of my own career troubles. The walls don't feel like their closing in and my paranoid worries about having come this far as a writer only to fail easily subside. One of my rewrites went over well with my partners today, and I'm hoping that our meeting on Friday will solidify my journey from just a man of ideas who one who will know how to make them happen in the hardest business on the planet.

As I listened to my girls marvel at how I can tell their voices apart when so many get confused, as I can inform them about the fact that I haven't ever seen our father get on a dance floor either, I went from Kenji the loner who thinks too much to a big brother who has two hearts and minds to look after. I will become advisor on boy trouble, consigliere for parental disputes and if all goes as planned their tour guide to the world outside of the US and abroad. I want them to have to much more than I did. But we all grew up with the same love, many of the same genes and an appreciation for what we don't know. And that is indeed special.

I had a talk with my girl Yo-Yo last night, whom I've known since the seventh grade and who joined the cast of Teen Summit at the same time that I did. We were both smart kids, both only children. The way the world saw us and how we saw ourselves was oh so different. The fact that so many of the kids that we came up with on that show have done big things. Dajour is a big man in radio in DC. Damond's a director. I write. Yo-Yo writes. Bassey's a world-renowned poet. Jada's dancing in videos. Hell, even Mya started her career on the show after we left. Somehow so many folks still remember me from those days, where I came off as every bit of the sheltered nerd that I was. Looking back it was a rep killer to confess my virginity on national TV. But then again folks like K-CI and Jo Jo remembered my face from the very beginning of their careers. I met Tupac and Spike Lee, sexy ass Salt, Kid-N-Play, Special Ed, Chubb Rock, and so many others from the golden age of hip hop. Teen Summit for me my gig at YSB, which got me several years worth of clips, which led Rappages, Essence at age 20 and all that followed.

Perhaps my general lack of patience comes from my entire life since 14 being spent just outside of the limelight, of covering the culture from the inside before the white pundits, C Delores Tucker or Tipper Gore even got wind of it. I was so close to what I wanted that I could always taste it. Yet it remained a step or two beyond me, bait on the hook luring me toward the surface of new shores.

I haven't slowed down since then. My last real vacation was more than a decade ago. School and job titles were all a means to an end as I chased after seeing my name on the cover of books and eventually films. Then the dreams fell into realities like dominoes. And I had to except the sobering truth that being gifted is less than half of the battle.

In the years ahead, for my parents, sisters, my cousin and eventually my own children I'll have to continue to navigate this annoying, slow and complicated maze in attempt build a something that will survive me once I've left this mudball in current form. Long distance races are the ones that come with the most fatigue. But whenever I've been down my family, friends and fans have been there to catch me before I plummeted, sometimes even when I wanted to fall. If it were up to me I'd have an office in DUMBO somewhere, a brownstone here, a condo in LA and a nice bungalow off of a beach in the DR, or Costa Rica, maybe even Brazil or South Africa. But I'm not on my own clock. So I have to accept patience as the virtue that it is. Even when you're gone it ain't over you. Your parts live on through your blood, through your memory. I kind of look forward to that. Out.