Sir Johnathon Hennessy
Allow me to reintroduce myself….my name is Sir Johnathon Hennessy. Like my brother of the pen, I hail from anywhere USA. A large city in the Midwest full of gangstas, pimps, hustlers and the like; or like Katt Williams would say, the most beautifullest fucked up place on earth. But it’s home.
About 3 weeks ago, Caviar approached me about helping him with this blog. It would be an outlet of sorts; you see, both Caviar and myself live to scribe. However, our educational backgrounds have detoured our destinies into fields unrelated. But I digress. My hope with this Chitlin Renaissance, this adventure into niggadom, this rebirth of slick, is to speak for cats like myself; not quite hood, not at all suburban. The brother you didn’t know was smart because of how he dressed or how he acted, or because he hung out with some rather gully individuals; corporate thugging, the street corner weekend hustler, or as i like to put it, living the grey.
BLACK & WHITE
What is living the grey you ask? Living the grey is that funny place you dwell when you aren’t quite hood enough to look comfortable in the thug’s uniform (a white tee….unless you’re in Atlanta, then it’s the black tee…..ask around); however, you know your black as midnight grandaddy would raise up from whatever afterlife eternity he now dwells within and slap the help outta you if he saw you acting like the black Zack Morris.
But it’s alright, cause I’m saved by one thing, and that’s my niggas in the grey with me. The equivalent of hood Kanyes, we tote the street cred to be accepted in our respective rust belt domiciles. But therein lies the problem, within the last couple of years, Sir J. Henn has relocated to another Big City, USA. Never to be one to be afraid of his own, I find myself in the hood…..alot. It is here that I discovered this twilight zone.
When I touched down where everybody does NOT know my name, I was being tested….constantly. Yea, in time, I earned these grimey ass niggas’ respect, but hell, only after I showed my nuts. But why? Because a nigga enjoys his pants a little more fit? Because the Polos stay crisp and in constant rotation? In this world, until I showed my nuts, until I revealed that nigga within with whom I have a daily battle with, I WAS Zack Morris. Shit’s crazy, that nigga Chris Rock was right, you get more love when you get out the pen than if you get out of college; “But can you whip MY ass?” Nigga, HELL YEA….just gimme a second to take off this tight ass Polo.
FLIP SIDE
At work, you struggle with being the educated brother, but you still a nigga. In these streets, you struggle with being the educated nigga. It’s a balancing act we in the grey exercise everydamn day, and it’s tiring believe me. See, at work, I tap into the corporate fella, I am Johnathon…on the weekends and after 6, I’m Hennessy; and just as both are a part of my name, both are a part of who I am.
Let’s be clear, Johnathon Hennessy is NOT my real name; matter of fact, it’s not even close. I chose this name to represent who I am…the polar opposites of my life. As my Dad says, “you GOTTA play that game.” But hell, even Jordan got tired. And one day, Sir John was having one of those Bipolar moments, i almost let that nigga out…think Dave Chapelle in the “When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong” sketch. Maybe one too many coworkers asked me if I was the first person in my fam to go to college, maybe it was the crackhead thinking he was gonna hustle a nigga (btw, I work in the hood); who the hell knows? Either way, I’m tired as hell….but until I earn my place in those record books, you can expect to catch Johnathon at work at 7am sharp, and that nigga Hennessy in club with some Patron and lime on the dance floor probably singing that Lil Wayne……Lilililili like a lollipop.
J. Henn.
