Planned Parenthood's Goal is African American Genocide

The black community is plagued by many problems from drug abuse to violence and high incarceration and dropout rates. But shockingly, abortion is the No. 1 cause of death in our community. Yes, abortion.

In a recent feature by Rev. John J. Raphael written for the Black Catholic Monthly, a publication run by the National Black Catholic Congress, it was noted that abortions in the black community occur 1,452 times a day, accounting for more than 13 million lives lost within the last 30 years. This figure is equivalent to approximately 1/3 of our present population.

Since the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision in 1973 legalized the practice, more blacks have been killed by abortion than have died of AIDS, cancer and murder combined. Although we comprise less than 13 percent of the U.S. Population, data indicates that we account for 37 percent of the abortions performed, meaning blacks in utero are 5 times more likely than whites to be aborted.

The biggest sponsor of abortions in America is Planned Parenthood. According to their Web site, the organization runs more than 840 health centers. What they fail to state is that about 80 percent of these centers are located in minority neighborhoods.

In the past, investigations have documented that the organization accepts funding that is directed specifically toward the termination of blacks. A few years ago, a UCLA student, Lila Rose and a friend, called Planned Parenthood clinics in seven states. One played the part of a racist male and asked if he gave money would they use it specifically for the termination of black children. All of the clinics indicated that they would accept donations specifically for the termination of black babies.

"We have received contributions from people who want to support us because they want all welfare mothers and all black women to stop having children," said Faye Wattleton, a former director for Planned Parenthood.

It should be noted that Planned Parenthood's founder, Margaret Sanger, once wrote "Where Negroes dwell one finds them, in fat times and lean alike, contributing a disproportionate number to the rolls of dependents and delinquents. They make excessive demands on the white man's charity and over tax his patience."

Although some states are debating whether or not to defund Planned Parenthood, the group receives more than $380 million annually from the federal government.

the race card

Irony has an unusually bazaar way of showing its head. While in Orlando this weekend (really Altamonte), I picked up an edition of the Orlando Sentinel – a move that lead many on the instant to discern I was not from around them parts. Although I was really interested in getting a recap of the 2007 NBA draft and provide my own self serving appraisal of the results, two stories on the front page adjacent to each other caught my eyes.

The first regarded a decision by Disney to reverse life time bans on four 17-year old African American male youth (who happened to be Florida State University Football prospects) from Disney for loitering The four were Avis Commack, Nigel Carr and Nickolas Moody and Vincent Williams. The decision was reversed after Philadelphia-based civil rights attorney Adrian J. Moody (father of Nickolas) looked into the situation to see if Disney was using racial profiling given that 45 of the 46 citations giving out for loitering were given to African American and Latino youth.

The other story regarded the U.S. Supreme court ruling to limit the use of race in school assignments in an effort to build diversity. The decision, 5-4 was announced by Justice John Roberts. It is just one decision in a line of many that seems to suggest that the court has moved to the other side – almost Reaganesque. From Gonzales Vs. Planned Parenthood of America to this Meredith vs. Jefferson County.

It just seems so ironic, the juxtaposition of know that one can no longer use race for the purpose of educational diversity, but that it’s ok, to pick people out and use it to ban or even jail them. Thumbs up to the new court for playing the race card.

State of the African American Father

Once, I was asked what being a father means to me. The question was asked of me one night before I was to leave on the overnight business trip the same night that Indiana and L.A. were playing game three of the NBA playoffs. I had never really thought about it before – probably because I knew that “IT” (fatherhood) was something that must be done rather than just thought about. And there was always something to do: to PTA meetings, taking my son to practice, ironing clothes, cooking meal and listening. What does it man to be a father? I mean it has to be a bit more than introducing a sperm cell to a precious ovum. It has to be more than seeing one’s child once or twice a week or month. What does it mean, and what is the state of fatherhood in our community? This was the question and I thought hard.

I thought hard about the fact that I was a single parent; I had been married, but it did not work out a result of unforeseen circumstances. But, mulling the questions of parenthood, I found it difficult to try to conceptualize something that I live; something so paramount and significant that words and thoughts can’t adequately depict its essence. It seems when you become a father – which is no less true for mothers – that you effectively begin a phase of having no social life. For the single father, this is mostly by choice, for you come to realize and internalize that there is no one thing or event more valuable than your children. I came to see that time really does fly by, and my infant son has become a little man with only one month until his eight birthday. I love cherish every moment of fatherhood, and I love having a son. For me being a father is responsibility that is earned with a combination of hardwork and effort, dedication and most importantly, love. It is an endless season in which summer, fall, winter and spring become one and the years often form a conglomerate book of memories and photographs.

Anthony T. Stringfield is CEO of the Living Room Media Group. an Oakland, California transplant, he has been in Atlanta for roughly nine years. “For me,” he says slowly, “I’ve been with little Tone for about 10 and a half years. Being a single parent for all that time has had its trials and tribulations for sure, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. When he came into the world, it just completely slowed my roll.” He says that his son is like a brother to him and that their relationships has steadily grow over the years. “His mother didn’t ever get involved in his life. She calls about twice a year, on Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it has not turned into any real experience for him. She being 3,000 miles away in France did not allow for him to have that access, that immediate access to her.

“Being a father means a lot to me,” Stringfield continues. “I would expect it too mean a lot to a lotta brothers out there. I want him to learn the streets, but at the same time, I don’t want him to earn the streets. Fatherhood slowed my life totally down.” Stringfield admitted that if it has not been for becoming a father, he would have probably ended up ubiquitously wither “dead or in jail”. Parenthood granted him something else that he needed: stability. “I guess God moved inside of me,” he says.

“It was really pride at first, but as pride turned into something that I thoughts was more than I could chew. But in the process, I realized that if I just took small bites, it wasn’t that hard,” Strinfield says. “And now since I am recently remarried, I can see how valuable the dual parent situation is. Looking back on it all, I say being father is a blessing that I would not trade for anything in the world. I wouldn’t trade the frowns for the smiles. Most definitely its been real.”
“My baby is like all the money in the world for me,” says Clarence Harris, founder of the check First Mortgage of Cincinnati, Ohio. “My wife and I had problems, so the doctors had to actually merge my sperm with her egg. It took about for or five attempts. Harris smiles as he continues. “The day I found out, I was in a car accident,” he says. “I was sitting there and all mad and she comes driving around the corner smiling and says she was pregnant. I cheered up immediately.”

He admits that he was hyped and that he “read a “hupla” articles and books” but that was short lived. “I figured that instincts would start to kick in because in all actuality I didn’t want to read a lot about white babies, because all of the books were written by white men,” he says. “I just figured being a man would make my father instincts come out.”

“When I found out I was about to be a father, I zoned, it was like I was thinking about names, him being a boy, what instruments he would play, how he would laugh and every thing else,” he recalls. But like most men staring down fatherhood, his attitude changed. Harris admits, “After I knew my wife was pregnant, I became concerned about her eating habits and everything. My wife worked practically right up until she gave birth, and I didn’t like that, knowing how hard we had been wanting children.


“Now my baby is one month old, he says with pride. “The biggest thing about the delivery was that I had never prepared to see something come out like me, round head and all, it was like looking at the mirror. I got here in my hands and forgot all about my wife.” He says that fatherhood based on his experiences could be broken down into one are: protection. Harris feels his job description with respect to his little girl is to provide support and protection for her forever.

These faces of fathers are often neglected in the real world with respect to media and the overall image of African American men. Let’s not forget; as the descendents of slaves were frequently removed from family responsibilities for the sake of profit by rapacious slave masters, brokers and merchants. Many young men like myself have inherited this sordid legacy, and never really knew or ere raide in households with their biological male parental units. Being basically inaccessible and/or available, we have managed to define being a father in a different perspective.

I will not blame history alone for these occurrences. Self-determination would have manifested another result if many fathers were steadfast in their belief of the family. And for the record most African American men were determined to preserve their families for we as people have survived conditions no one else has confronted. Therefore, it is not unusual when men are overlooked, as Harris was when he was at the hospital. The doctors and nurse always seemed to speak directly to his wife. “I had to straighten them out a few times and explain that the baby’s father is here and got just as an important part in this baby’s life as the baby’s mother does,” he says.

Many have viewed or felt this invisibility either first hand or vicariously. In all truth, church of the world in which we reside, through various news speak sources, purports consistently that men such as those speaking within this article and others such as myself do not exist. Often they talk about us, “black fathers” as if we were invisible. As if we were invisible. As if speaking of African American men as being fathers is taboo or politically incorrect. But the record is otherwise. We have demonstrated that we do exist and that is not because we are individuals. I coach both Little League baseball and basketball and see fathers all over the place, actively involved, from all walks of life.

To say it is troubling that we are often overlooked is an understatement. In our own communities, it seems as if we can only see ourselves. And we see ourselves often,. We see each other at MARTA stations, parks, PTA meetings,school plays and birthday parties. We seem to bon on site, exchanging looks and facial expressions tat only our kind can know. Marvin Davis, a native of Memphis, Tennessee, is that father of tow boys ages eight and five years old. Martin says being a father “is definitely a responsibility that I take strongly.” The business executive continues, “what I mean is that I see that as of now, I ma here to raise two black boys to not doubt themselves for any reason, economics, skin color or nothing.”



Davis reinforces his perspective by saying he is “trying to build string minds that can work and function in a structure and system designed to defeat them.” With all of the may roles he must play, he's says that he can definitely tell you want fatherhood is not. “It is not just bringing your check home and saying ‘I am clothing and feeding my kids.” He says that fathers help children to know that no matter what, there is and will be one main person that they can go to “who ain’t got no other motivations but to help them be better.”


So what is being a father about? I can’t really say, but these men have given us some food for thought. Being a father is a commitment. It is a commitment to supporting a family and working hard in spirit and time to make certain nothing will manifest that brings harm to ones seeds and they may grow, they may never develop or survive without consistent and compassionate care. Fathers, we salute you, for we truly know that we need no reward for what we do, either hand what we experience through daily interaction with our children.