Nobody Knows My Name (For the Brothers Who Ain’t Here)



Throwing it back to 1961 and taking a second look at how civil rights activists, artists, and writers disturbed the peace for good. Also, using James Baldwin’s book, Nobody Knows My Name, as a backdrop, I am remembering some of “the brothers who ain’t here.”

“For the brother who ain’t here.” His name was Andre. Remembering a childhood friend, a boy from the old neighborhood, who never grew up to see his 30th birthday. Reflecting on the fun times we shared together, and what kind of man he would have become, had he lived to age 51, like I have.

“For the brother who ain’t here.” His nickname was Scrappy. Remembering a dude I used to hang out with over 30 years ago, and sharing the side of him I came to know on his deathbed. Reflecting on all the weed we smoked together, and what kind of man he would have become, had he lived to age 51, like I have.

“For the brother who ain’t here.” His name was Joe. And he was 27 when I knew him. I was 21 and still in university. And Joe was the first grown-ass man I really knew outside of my family. He worked, rented his own apartment, paid his own bills and made his own meals ? long before I did any of those things. Reflecting on Joe’s aggressive nature, and his ambition, which inspired me all those years ago. And then he was gone. Just like that. Thinking about the kind of man he would have become, had he lived to age 51, like I have.

[The Robert Wesley Branch Show #220: Nobody Knows My Name (For the Brothers Who Ain’t Here) – originally broadcast on Saturday, October 22, 2016] #TheRobertWesleyBranchShow #KeepItConscious #RealRawRelevant
Take a look/listen!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *