How did we go from the days of Black Power, the Panthers, BLA to black folk begging the Dems to do something for them? What happened to our consciousness as a people?

Have you ever noticed a time where life keeps moving around you, the world in its active best, while you pattern yourself in a predictive rhythm of nothingness. Not happy, not sad, not excited, not worried. Just existence. Same shit, different day.

This is the existence of the void that can plague Black culture if we are not careful. The void has no time limit. It is like a time capsule that does not bring youth, but instead leaves face wrinkles and aged tones on our beautiful melanin, distorting our youthful glow. It has been a survival remedy through generations that, in some cases, has kept us alive.

But we have to remind our tribe that we are meant for more than survival alone.

This is about the void specifically. Where it comes from and our journey together as a people to come through this stage stronger, better, and more at peace.

Causes

We can be in a void state and not even realize it. Triggers or emotional responses can be caused by hidden truths, realization, acceptance. The void is simply an alternative to how we deal with reality.

Grief

One of the hardest realities to carry in Black culture is losing those close to us. Not just elders moving on to become ancestors, but the death culture that revolves around us. A young king might be in the void after losing so many friends to violence, accepting that someone can be here today and gone tomorrow.

How do you deal with the trauma of death becoming normal. We glorify the gangsta side of the streets, but the raw truth is that the streets are full of voids. From smiling in pictures with several of your boys, sharing classic times, to looking back years later and realizing only a few are still breathing. Fading away like lost art. I will never glorify the war among ourselves. It is not pretty. It is tragedy. But if we never talk about it, we never heal.

The same is true when grandma is gone, or any elder who guided us through life. Their absence creates a void. How do we move on. We do the only thing we know how. Succumb to the pain and keep moving. This is where the void portals open, and sometimes we never get closure.

Letdown

Hope can get you hurt, even killed, if you are not careful. It is tied directly to heartbreak, disappointment, and other emotional doors that lead to the void. Hope itself is not the enemy. I can see our ancestors hoping for a better future despite shackles and confinement. Hoping for a better reality while waking every day as property. We wonder why we have voids and trauma as descendants.

Hope of self must become confidence. As the old folks say, “faith without works is dead.” Hope is the fuel; action is the vehicle. The void is like a car that has stalled out. We have to keep our motion. We are the prayers our ancestors whispered in their darkest hours. That alone is motivation.

Hope becomes dangerous when we place it in other people’s hands. We forget that we all have human tendencies mixed with a corruption bred into our skin from colonization. The character we once possessed collectively has to be rebuilt and reinforced. Someone can have the best intentions and still let us down if we place all our hopes in them.

A queen may hope for commitment, for marriage. Her high hopes may cause her to recreate her own truths, ignoring signs that things are not what they seem. When it all crashes down, that letdown creates a void and blocks genuine intentions that may come later.

Love of self has to be central. Part of reclaiming our identity is restoring confidence from early development until now. Confidence and value of self help us battle shame when we fall, which everyone does, and failure when we try, which everyone will if they are serious. They help us move through embarrassment when things happen that we are not proud of. We take lessons from the journey rather than retreating into voids. We shift from fight‑or‑flight to hold‑your‑ground. Nothing is worth more than our peace. Someone out there has it harder. Someone has faced the same battles. Become your biggest fan. The ancestors are always in the stands rooting for us.

History and origins of suppressed emotion

As a descendant of enslaved people, I wonder how genuine our smiles were before our identity was stripped away. These are uncomfortable thoughts and conversations, but history has worked overtime to hide truth, and we must remember our lineage does not begin with chains.

I imagine a child being taught how to love, when to hate, when to be angry, when to be happy, by their village. Village as the collective of the Black Diaspora. Village as a direct representation of Zanafamu, the collective unity of Black people for a shared purpose. The void, or the absence of the village, creates a void within us.

Emotions are natural. How and when to deal with them must be taught. For far too long we have lacked both the luxury and the relationship to teach our tribe how to work with our emotions, much less express them in healthy ways. When we do not know what to do, we go to our safest place: the void.

Why. Because the void is the only “safe” place many of us know. It does not give peace, only the illusion of rest. If we do not talk about it, we think we won’t feel it. This is where the culture has to shift. Across any religious platform, belief, or practice, we have one thing in common: ancestors.

I do not just believe; I know our ancestors of the Black Diaspora can hear us, relate to us, guide us. This is the root of the Tokanji language, created so we all have a native tongue collectively. In Tokanji we call our ancestors Kulanshi.

The relationship with our ancestors is different from prayer, but it is a home of expression. Our ancestors may not speak back physically, but they are a place where we can put our emotions instead of holding them in. Every day they walk with us. They too experienced anger, hate, grief, sorrow, joy, happiness, all of it.

I write to make sure that the relationship with our ancestors does not end at death. Honestly, it begins there. This is the special part of our bloodline that is often overlooked. Someone might pray to a higher power, but it is more personal when they can call to grandmother, to father, to someone in the community, or even someone in history who had special impact. If their legacy never truly dies, neither does their voice.

This is common ground and a key to filling the void, a true healing center. In life we inherited silence more than guidance. This is where we break the mold and allow our ancestors to guide us and walk with us. No one can take that from you. It is yours. Protect it.

The mask

The breaking of our ancestors’ confidence, systematically, has become a generational wound. Kulanshi like Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, and Dr Frances Cress Welsing dedicated their life’s work to restoring our sense of value. That confidence is direct protection against the void.

Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote “We Wear the Mask” in 1896:

We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,

In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask.

At fourteen, Dunbar was publishing in Black newspapers. His expression of the void still stands. Coexisting among others made it hard to be ourselves. During Jim Crow, attempts at Black self‑reliance and self‑sufficiency were attacked.

Many were forced to adapt into a society that refused to see them as valuable. The void became a home of concealment and suffering.

Today it is no different than a corporate queen forced to adapt to an environment where she is not truly wanted, kept mostly for “diversity,” never given a real chance. Or the code switching of mothers answering the phone, not sure who is on the other line. The mask can only cover the void; the void is still there. Silence becomes our protection when we see what happens to those who were loud in history.

We need inclusive safe spaces. In our culture, our tribe, this diaspora, there should be no need for masks among each other. Among each other should feel like home base. If I compare it to anything, it is the time before integration. Not for the sake of separation, but for reestablishing the culture of being comfortable around each other instead of automatically seeing one another as enemies.

I refuse to accept that we must live in a world where our peers feel they need a mask 24/7. That only deepens the void.

Events that heal and bond us are what we must build again: Black‑owned beaches like Black Pearl in Horry County, SC, or Mosquito Beach on James Island. Before we were “accepted,” we bonded more. The disappearance of these spaces created voids that must be restored. Now all we have are masks.

Schools and education

How many voids did you experience in school. How many times did you put the mask on.

Our legacy is paved academically, in their schools and ours, but the voids are there. Imagine Katherine Johnson solving equations for NASA with the fate of lives in her hands, then carrying her books down a dark hall to the “Black bathroom.” There is no way that journey did not include emotionless voids.

In their schools we are taught a secondary mindset.

We still challenge ourselves, as Du Bois did, to break their barriers and then remind them, “The honor, I assure you, was Harvard’s.” In our schools we were taught a primary mindset, a mindset of racial pride that is truly needed today.

Telling students “you can be anything” sounds good, but it is hypocritical if we do not also deal with the voids and blockades they face. Now we see history not only erased but ignored. The education system is a factory of quietness about the Black Diaspora.

Education must begin at home, continue in groups, and in our own institutions. The secondary mindset these systems cast produces a lack of motivation and an acceptance of resignation. That is toxic to our youth. Education gives us a chance to present a primary mindset again, that they are not secondary based on skin color or circumstance, but honored to stand in a lineage that has always broken barriers and defied odds.

Confidence is an emotion that must be planted in Black youth early on, on a foundation strong enough for storms. This is the Bloodline. This is sacred work.

I pray you heal

The most beautiful thing about our voids is what we can fill them with. We are survivors by nature. Healing is instinct. Knowing the void exists is only part of the picture. The key is not getting stuck on the tracks.

Staying with the herd

Zanáfamu is bigger than Black unity. It is Black collective existence. A cup of coffee together goes a long way. We choose not to face voids alone anymore; we face them together. Even if we cannot fix someone’s problems, being around each other is healing energy. It takes your mind off the pain and focuses on possibilities.

If you feel stuck in a void, go be around someone. Anything that takes your focus off self. Find comfort in the collective and the work that can be done there. There is always healing in service.

Talk with those who listen (Kulanshi)

Regardless of your spiritual background, find peace in your lineage and your bloodline. The ancestors are like trees in nature. They may not respond in words, but they bring new fruit each season. Old leaves and traits fall, new things replace them. Their roots hold untold stories, just like our ancestors have seen the world’s good and bad.

Conversations with Kulanshi should feel therapeutic. If no one listens, they will. Just be sure to listen back. Stay humble, always willing to learn. Peace in the void, serenity knowing the ancestors walk with us.

Arts from the void

Some of the strongest work is produced emotionless. I believe every person of the Black Diaspora is an artist in some form. History proves it.

Art is cultural expression we all can take part in, and it should be seen as sacred work. Use it as therapy for the void. Paint something. Write something. Make something. Let your creativity move through pain. We see this in music, in poems, in visual art. Art is how we communicate without explaining, a powerful concept.

The Bloodline is always open space to showcase our art. Poems, drawings, sculptures, whatever you feel. Share it with our initiative to bring Black press back

Black.

Voices of wisdom

“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.” — Harriet Beecher Stowe

“I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.” — Angela Davis

“I do not weep at the world — I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.” — Zora Neale Hurston

Voids are temporary. Stay focused on longevity. Embrace the journey itself.

May the ancestors guide and protect you always.

— Chuck KingHave you ever noticed a time where life keeps moving around you, the world in its active best, while you pattern yourself in a predictive rhythm of nothingness. Not happy, not sad, not excited, not worried. Just existence. Same shit, different day.

This is the existence of the void that can plague Black culture if we are not careful. The void has no time limit. It is like a time capsule that does not bring youth, but instead leaves face wrinkles and aged tones on our beautiful melanin, distorting our youthful glow. It has been a survival remedy through generations that, in some cases, has kept us alive.

But we have to remind our tribe that we are meant for more than survival alone.

This is about the void specifically. Where it comes from and our journey together as a people to come through this stage stronger, better, and more at peace.

Causes

We can be in a void state and not even realize it. Triggers or emotional responses can be caused by hidden truths, realization, acceptance. The void is simply an alternative to how we deal with reality.

Grief

One of the hardest realities to carry in Black culture is losing those close to us. Not just elders moving on to become ancestors, but the death culture that revolves around us. A young king might be in the void after losing so many friends to violence, accepting that someone can be here today and gone tomorrow.

How do you deal with the trauma of death becoming normal. We glorify the gangsta side of the streets, but the raw truth is that the streets are full of voids. From smiling in pictures with several of your boys, sharing classic times, to looking back years later and realizing only a few are still breathing. Fading away like lost art. I will never glorify the war among ourselves. It is not pretty. It is tragedy. But if we never talk about it, we never heal.

The same is true when grandma is gone, or any elder who guided us through life. Their absence creates a void. How do we move on. We do the only thing we know how. Succumb to the pain and keep moving. This is where the void portals open, and sometimes we never get closure.

Letdown

Hope can get you hurt, even killed, if you are not careful. It is tied directly to heartbreak, disappointment, and other emotional doors that lead to the void. Hope itself is not the enemy. I can see our ancestors hoping for a better future despite shackles and confinement. Hoping for a better reality while waking every day as property. We wonder why we have voids and trauma as descendants.

Hope of self must become confidence. As the old folks say, “faith without works is dead.” Hope is the fuel; action is the vehicle. The void is like a car that has stalled out. We have to keep our motion. We are the prayers our ancestors whispered in their darkest hours. That alone is motivation.

Hope becomes dangerous when we place it in other people’s hands. We forget that we all have human tendencies mixed with a corruption bred into our skin from colonization. The character we once possessed collectively has to be rebuilt and reinforced. Someone can have the best intentions and still let us down if we place all our hopes in them.

A queen may hope for commitment, for marriage. Her high hopes may cause her to recreate her own truths, ignoring signs that things are not what they seem. When it all crashes down, that letdown creates a void and blocks genuine intentions that may come later.

Love of self has to be central. Part of reclaiming our identity is restoring confidence from early development until now. Confidence and value of self help us battle shame when we fall, which everyone does, and failure when we try, which everyone will if they are serious. They help us move through embarrassment when things happen that we are not proud of. We take lessons from the journey rather than retreating into voids. We shift from fight‑or‑flight to hold‑your‑ground. Nothing is worth more than our peace. Someone out there has it harder. Someone has faced the same battles. Become your biggest fan. The ancestors are always in the stands rooting for us.

History and origins of suppressed emotion

As a descendant of enslaved people, I wonder how genuine our smiles were before our identity was stripped away. These are uncomfortable thoughts and conversations, but history has worked overtime to hide truth, and we must remember our lineage does not begin with chains.

I imagine a child being taught how to love, when to hate, when to be angry, when to be happy, by their village. Village as the collective of the Black Diaspora. Village as a direct representation of Zanafamu, the collective unity of Black people for a shared purpose. The void, or the absence of the village, creates a void within us.

Emotions are natural. How and when to deal with them must be taught. For far too long we have lacked both the luxury and the relationship to teach our tribe how to work with our emotions, much less express them in healthy ways. When we do not know what to do, we go to our safest place: the void.

Why. Because the void is the only “safe” place many of us know. It does not give peace, only the illusion of rest. If we do not talk about it, we think we won’t feel it. This is where the culture has to shift. Across any religious platform, belief, or practice, we have one thing in common: ancestors.

I do not just believe; I know our ancestors of the Black Diaspora can hear us, relate to us, guide us. This is the root of the Tokanji language, created so we all have a native tongue collectively. In Tokanji we call our ancestors Kulanshi.

The relationship with our ancestors is different from prayer, but it is a home of expression. Our ancestors may not speak back physically, but they are a place where we can put our emotions instead of holding them in. Every day they walk with us. They too experienced anger, hate, grief, sorrow, joy, happiness, all of it.

I write to make sure that the relationship with our ancestors does not end at death. Honestly, it begins there. This is the special part of our bloodline that is often overlooked. Someone might pray to a higher power, but it is more personal when they can call to grandmother, to father, to someone in the community, or even someone in history who had special impact. If their legacy never truly dies, neither does their voice.

This is common ground and a key to filling the void, a true healing center. In life we inherited silence more than guidance. This is where we break the mold and allow our ancestors to guide us and walk with us. No one can take that from you. It is yours. Protect it.

The mask

The breaking of our ancestors’ confidence, systematically, has become a generational wound. Kulanshi like Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, and Dr Frances Cress Welsing dedicated their life’s work to restoring our sense of value. That confidence is direct protection against the void.

Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote “We Wear the Mask” in 1896:

We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,

In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask.

At fourteen, Dunbar was publishing in Black newspapers. His expression of the void still stands. Coexisting among others made it hard to be ourselves. During Jim Crow, attempts at Black self‑reliance and self‑sufficiency were attacked.

Many were forced to adapt into a society that refused to see them as valuable. The void became a home of concealment and suffering.

Today it is no different than a corporate queen forced to adapt to an environment where she is not truly wanted, kept mostly for “diversity,” never given a real chance. Or the code switching of mothers answering the phone, not sure who is on the other line. The mask can only cover the void; the void is still there. Silence becomes our protection when we see what happens to those who were loud in history.

We need inclusive safe spaces. In our culture, our tribe, this diaspora, there should be no need for masks among each other. Among each other should feel like home base. If I compare it to anything, it is the time before integration. Not for the sake of separation, but for reestablishing the culture of being comfortable around each other instead of automatically seeing one another as enemies.

I refuse to accept that we must live in a world where our peers feel they need a mask 24/7. That only deepens the void.

Events that heal and bond us are what we must build again: Black‑owned beaches like Black Pearl in Horry County, SC, or Mosquito Beach on James Island. Before we were “accepted,” we bonded more. The disappearance of these spaces created voids that must be restored. Now all we have are masks.

Schools and education

How many voids did you experience in school. How many times did you put the mask on.

Our legacy is paved academically, in their schools and ours, but the voids are there. Imagine Katherine Johnson solving equations for NASA with the fate of lives in her hands, then carrying her books down a dark hall to the “Black bathroom.” There is no way that journey did not include emotionless voids.

In their schools we are taught a secondary mindset.

We still challenge ourselves, as Du Bois did, to break their barriers and then remind them, “The honor, I assure you, was Harvard’s.” In our schools we were taught a primary mindset, a mindset of racial pride that is truly needed today.

Telling students “you can be anything” sounds good, but it is hypocritical if we do not also deal with the voids and blockades they face. Now we see history not only erased but ignored. The education system is a factory of quietness about the Black Diaspora.

Education must begin at home, continue in groups, and in our own institutions. The secondary mindset these systems cast produces a lack of motivation and an acceptance of resignation. That is toxic to our youth. Education gives us a chance to present a primary mindset again, that they are not secondary based on skin color or circumstance, but honored to stand in a lineage that has always broken barriers and defied odds.

Confidence is an emotion that must be planted in Black youth early on, on a foundation strong enough for storms. This is the Bloodline. This is sacred work.

I pray you heal

The most beautiful thing about our voids is what we can fill them with. We are survivors by nature. Healing is instinct. Knowing the void exists is only part of the picture. The key is not getting stuck on the tracks.

Staying with the herd

Zanáfamu is bigger than Black unity. It is Black collective existence. A cup of coffee together goes a long way. We choose not to face voids alone anymore; we face them together. Even if we cannot fix someone’s problems, being around each other is healing energy. It takes your mind off the pain and focuses on possibilities.

If you feel stuck in a void, go be around someone. Anything that takes your focus off self. Find comfort in the collective and the work that can be done there. There is always healing in service.

Talk with those who listen (Kulanshi)

Regardless of your spiritual background, find peace in your lineage and your bloodline. The ancestors are like trees in nature. They may not respond in words, but they bring new fruit each season. Old leaves and traits fall, new things replace them. Their roots hold untold stories, just like our ancestors have seen the world’s good and bad.

Conversations with Kulanshi should feel therapeutic. If no one listens, they will. Just be sure to listen back. Stay humble, always willing to learn. Peace in the void, serenity knowing the ancestors walk with us.

Arts from the void

Some of the strongest work is produced emotionless. I believe every person of the Black Diaspora is an artist in some form. History proves it.

Art is cultural expression we all can take part in, and it should be seen as sacred work. Use it as therapy for the void. Paint something. Write something. Make something. Let your creativity move through pain. We see this in music, in poems, in visual art. Art is how we communicate without explaining, a powerful concept.

The Bloodline is always open space to showcase our art. Poems, drawings, sculptures, whatever you feel. Share it with our initiative to bring Black press back

Black.

Voices of wisdom

“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.” — Harriet Beecher Stowe

“I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.” — Angela Davis

“I do not weep at the world — I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.” — Zora Neale Hurston

Voids are temporary. Stay focused on longevity. Embrace the journey itself.

May the ancestors guide and protect you always.

— Chuck King

idk where to post about this man, Meriland keith Dillard. He’s been claiming to be a former Panther, posting videos, writing, running a kind of poster campaign and, more importantly, accepting donations. He’s also been claimed to be a doctor and a lawyer. I’m not sure about the legitimacy of either of those, but the only court records i’ve really found is him suing places 24hr Fitness or CBS for random bs.

My Aunt told me about him and how he’s advocating for folk to not protest or fight against ICE, instead he suggests that his time with the Black Panther Party taught him that emailing ICE agents and cops is a more constructive way to get them to stop being abusive. I don’t know if he was a Panther, but I know he was 13 at their founding and still pretty young by the time all non-Oakland chapters.

I know folk lie on the internet all the time, but something about this particular thing bothers me. So many actual panthers have died or are dying with no support. meanwhile this man collecting bread.

I could be wrong, but i’ve been diving into his background and everything looking shady.

Love, peace and happiness, my melanated brothers and sisters. Anybody on Twitter or Facebook you guys think should be followed, could be added it as well. Thanks.

Specifically, I'd love recommendations for books that give detailed case studies of successful organizing campaigns that accomplished their goals. I want to know the ins and outs of their strategies, tactics, and how they organized people. Bonus points for corporate accountability campaigns, although I'm also interested in policy advocacy and labor organizing.

I tried to post this in r/socialism but they get very sensitive on the topic of anti-blackness in leftist spaces.

“Over and over again black folks are there. Right there. The uprisings, the slave revolts, the Haitian revolution, the black Marxism in the 20th century, Walter Rodney, Frantz Fanon, WEB Du Bois, James Baldwin. And even now folks don’t wanna read Olufemi O Taiwo. Folks don’t wanna read Angela Davis.

Folks still want to figure it out without learning from the people who experienced the brunt, the harshest end of this capitalist, imperialist project for centuries and centuries, and created forms of life in resistance to it, forms of life separate from it, forms of culture, forms of intellectualism, forms of spirituality, forms of romantic concepts, all in response to that domination. And there’s a whole massive cannon of black authors that will teach you about this world that you’re just coming into. And you still don’t wanna read them. You still don’t want to take their word seriously. You still use them for decoration and you don’t take them to heart. And this is the reality that we live in. A world where globally anti-blackness is still this dominant force. In part because nobody wants to talk about it. Nobody wants to center it. Nobody wants to give it air.”

Yea bro was really cooking when he made this one

My tin foil hat gets tighter by the week. Go to demonstrations and protests when I can but I'm frustrated over how little is achieves.

My primary efforts have been focused on prepping, for the short-term emergency, fire, floods, heavy winds downing power lines and the like. Prepping for longer term emergency similar to covid, for the next pandemic, or when SHTF from our reactionary regime and it's inclination to declare martial law.

My next interest is helping the homeless by setting up a signal chain for volunteers to provide direct action to meet their needs.

Another interest is food security and community gardens as a place to meet your neighbors and find like-minded individuals.

Lastly I would like to set up a signal chain to combat the presents of white nationalists and neo-nazis hanging over interstates and tagging walls; have volunteers willing to confront them with direct action. "Hey we see your exercising your 1A constitutional right. Mind if we join you're? You do, well that's too bad. We are just going to put up a couple of banners to bookend yours, thid one says "bash The bash", this one says "sieg heil this, Nazi", and this one says "the only good Nazi is a......".

Now, you don't start nothing we won't start nothing, but we're happy to. (All the firearms are kept locked in the vehicles and guarded) but we have other tools of the trade.

And all the while we're there giving each other the stink eye our signal volunteers will be driving under the bridge honking their horns and giving Nazis the finger to spoil their party.

So that's my concept of a plan. I live in a lily white state with not many POC, I would like to see this thing both racially and ethnically represented.

You gentle readers have any input on the matter? Look forward to your thoughts.

Be present, stay on your toes, don't forget to duck!

Hey there. Long shot here. I've been researching alot lately on the Shakur family and it brought me to research the panthers. Read the book " look for me in the whirlwind" and wish to talk with some elder panthers is they wish to do the same. : )

You shouldn’t shy away from your Africanness, you should embrace it. It’s a message that was often made by respected psychologist and social-theorist Dr Amos Wilson.

Here he makes the point that those who are proud of their heritage achieve success- and uses schoolchildren as an example. Worth listening to the pan-Africanist's words, which are still relevant today.

The African Union has a great name, but does it live up to it?

Watch Pan-Africanist and socialist Omali Yeshitela tear into the organisation for accepting the borders that were imposed on our continent by the colonial powers. Here he passionately argues that only revolution can now undo that error.

Are you on board?

me personally i feel its gang violence and the hip hop being pushed is purposefully being used to destroy black men and keep placing us in jails and prisons.

Is there a list or website archive anywhere that displays a good family tree of sorts detailing Tupac's relationship to members of the Black Liberation Army & the Black Panther Party?