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Rasheed Newson Books

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“Larry climbed up onto a coffee table to address the sixty people crammed into his living room, hallway, and kitchen. Peter and I stood to Larry’s right with our backs to a window. I was struck by how Larry fidgeted while cleaning his glasses on his untucked, white dress shirt. He opened his mouth to speak a couple of times only to close it with a sigh. He was not naturally ferocious or eager to roar. He was a lamb who had to rev himself up to become a lion.”

“Zee had only grinned at me when I was valuable to her. I'd go on to tangle with other bosses and authority figures, and that dynamic never changed. Affection never outlasted need. This was the first lesson the city taught me the hard way. The vast majority of us are merely pawns in someone else's game. Don't get defensive over this point. Embrace it. Once you do, you can begin to manipulate the board. Positioned correctly, pawns can checkmate kings.”

“The theory goes that governmental agencies don't accidentally make accessing information or resources difficult. They do this shit on purpose. The forms are confusing, and the record keeping is ass-backward because it reflects a policy choice. A decision has been made to repel the average citizen from gaining certain knowledge or opportunities. When most people encounter the seemingly arbitrary and capricious workings of, for instance, the IRS or the DMV, they accept it because they've been trained to assume that the government is run by half-wits. They yell at the lowly staffer in front of them, then sulk away and comply with the absurd rules or give up. Yet what the vast majority of citizens see as mistakes are the result of calculated design. Some high-level political functionary stipulated that the form must be completed in triplicate. A few billionaire donors drafted the fine print that disqualifies the neediest from touching the bounty. These are very smart motherfuckers. To think otherwise plays into their hands.”

“...Generations of black men had been frequenting Mt. Morris since the Harlem Renaissance. Rumor had it that Countee Cullen ditched his wife after he and Harold Jackman made Mt. Morris their regular rendezvous in the late 1920s. In the time since, thousands upon thousands of Black men used their bodies to create this delicate, invisible web connecting the queers of old to newcomers like me.”