Editor’s note: The following drop via AFROLATINO.TV press release…
Creador Pictures announces the official website launch for the groundbreaking television documentary, “Afro Latinos: The Untaught Story” (Afro-Latinos: La Historia Que Nunca Nos Contaron”). Created and Produced by award-winning television producer Renzo Devia and co-produced by celebrated journalist Alicia Anabel Santos. This seven part series is expected to leave viewers with a new perspective on the heritage of Latinos worldwide, in addition to a better understanding of the modern day adversities still facing Afro-Latinos today.
Who are Afro-Latinos? Afro-Latinos are the descendents of the enslaved Africans who were forcibly taken from their land and dispersed throughout Latin America. There are an estimated 200 million Afro-descendants throughout Latin America; yet the majority, have no political or economic power.
More than two years in the making and independently produced and filmed throughout Spanish and Portuguese speaking nations across the Caribbean, Central and South America. This provocative documentary Afro-Latinos: The Untaught Story delves deep into the Afro-Latino experience as no one has ever seen before. Segments cover topics ranging from history, identity, language, religious taboos, beautiful traditions, art and social issues. This documentary gives a voice to these marginalized communities who have been excluded from history books for centuries. Creador Pictures, LLC hopes to unite all of the Americas with the fascinating knowledge they have gained.
The documentary features provocative scenes capturing intimate rituals, such as Santeria and Voodoo. The series offers revealing interviews from AfroLatino celebrities, political figures, scientists, educators and anthropologists. The most moving footage comes straight from the voices of the people—this is a story that directly affects these communities located in the outskirts of Latin America’s bustling metropolitans.
AFROLATINO.TV is the definitive on-line destination for the global Afro-Latino community. Visitors can watch video footage and see photos taken from the producer’s journeys to dozens of countries on their quest to decode the lineage of African blood in Latin America during the documentary filming.
Teachers across the nation have already used this valuable site as a resource to encourage the curious to further investigate the history Afro-Latinos. This site offers comprehensive information and links to philanthropic organizations for each country visited to inform those communities on where to go if they are discriminated against. In addition to moving and entertaining blog testimonials, the film crew shares information about the books, music and artwork they discovered along the way with via digital travel journals.
The ‘Lo-End Theory is more than simply a bunch of fanboys swapping and selling their vintage gear. It’s an honest celebration of everything that is Hip-Hop. The aspiration through apparel. The underground artists who bring flair and flavor to the scene. The lifestyle of living life lavishly in your own way.
Thirstin’ Howl 3rd opens this video with a montage of 40 Deuce flicks. The Deuce was NYC’s ave for hardbody stunting. Not just NYC but the tri-state area. If you wanted to be seen on the scene in the 1980’s you had to come on the Deuce. I wouldn’t come alone if I were you tho’ because the wolfpacks are mossied up looking for meat.
Combat Jack has started a series of drops over at the Daily Mathematics about his remembrance of the legendary NYC nightclub Paradise Garage. In the first part, CJ deftly describes the setting of the nightclub. Fridays were the so-called “straight” night mainly because Saturdays were so balls out ghey that anyone who got inside on a Saturday night is now dead from AIDS. Good thing for me that I wasn’t able to get in the first time that I went there (Saturday).
If I had a little money I would fux with the Garage after leaving the Quarters. Union Square was closed on Friday at this time and the Saturday party in that space was a dancehall joint called the Underground. Combat Jack also mentioned Bentley’s as a spot were Black folks convened, but the Bentley’s crowd had several other spots to do their thing like The Red Parrot and Silver Shadow. Paradise Garage had a downtown crowd which was distinctly different from any other spot where Blacks partied.
First of all, there was no liquor being served. NYC’s liquor laws were such that any place that had a license to sell liquor had to close for business by 4am. The Garage would be open from 12am until next month. I distinctly remember leaving the Garage one afternoon AFTER noon. I was leaving and people were still in the main room dancing and jacking their bodies. That was the phrase for dancing in the Garage. You were supposed to ‘jack’ your body. When people would first get into the cavernous club you could find them in one of the many rooms stretching themselves like Rosa Acosta. You needed to be in fairly decent shape if you were going to smoke crack and then dance for 10 straight hours and that is exactly what folks were going to do.
It was in the Garage where I first experienced the acrid, yet surprisingly sweet smell of crack cocaine. I never knew what that shit smelled like. I knew what it looked like but I had never seen anyone actually smoke it. The Paradise Garage was where I learned a lot about other drugs that were popular. I got turned on to mescaline and acid while I was up in there. I don’t want to over-emphasize the drugs aspect of the Garage because that really wasn’t what was happening inside of the building. Don’t get it twisted, people up in that bitch were getting fucked the fuck up hardbody, but some folks were in there straight-edging and strictly vibing.
I started fuxing with the Garage after this chick I knew from L.G. (Lafayette Gardens) named Diane told me she was going there after Latin Quarters. I had tried to go there before on a Saturday night but I couldn’t get in [ll] and I didn’t realize that Saturday was the super ghey night. I didn’t have a gaydar then, truth is that I still don’t because I don’t give a fux. So I went down to the Garage after the LQ closed. Polotron and Big Du from the ‘Stuy rolled with me. Du’s brother Brian rolled too. All these fools were older than me and they had already been up inside of the Garage.
Polo and Du are both four years older than me. They graduated from Brooklyn Tech that June before the September I first went in. these dudes were nightclub OGs. 10-18(Roxy), Danceteria, The Fever, Union Square. They went to the Quarters on Friday to pre-game for the Garage. The deal was that we had to split up and get with chicks in order to get inside, or better yet, I had to find a chick to help me get inside. My girl Diane was on line after we had parked the car so I got with her and Polo rocked with her girl. The line to get inside the Garage was almost as fun as being in that piece. The energy was there.
The difference between the Garage and the Quarters was the direction of the energy. The Quarters and Union Square were dominated by dudes who from time to time(every single fuxing night) would set it on some other dudes [ll]. Whereas the Garage had energy that was high but moving in the opposite manner. You could bag up a shorty and dance with her all night. I mean dance with her so much that you had her smell on your body. If she was having a visit from her Aunt Rose you would be wearing that scent too. My girl Diane changed out of her LQ sweats into a cycling singlet. Actually I think she just took off her sweater and jeans.
That was the uniform for chicks in the Garage. Biker shorts and t-shirts. I always had on a Polo rugby or sweatshirt that I would literally sweat out into oblivion. I would leave that club looking like I went swimming fully clothed. You couldn’t go in there and not dance for hours on end. The vibe in the Paradise Garage was what that party was all about. No one fuxed with you the wrong way. I didn’t violate any girls and I never had a problem getting action. There was no alcohol to make dudes act foolish, altho’ cocaine is a helluva drug. The vibe was a true spaceship making its way to a distant planet.
What shaped the vibe was the music, primarily spun by the resident deejay, LARRY LeVAN. Google that brother’s name if you are into music for real music. The Garage was an actual garage with concrete floors, walls, columns and ceilings. The main room was pitchblack and the sound bounced off the walls at the speed of sound. You were in noisechamber and you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. What you did was you took your girl into the main room and you found a clearing for y’all to dance. Then you jacked your body. And you soul clapped. When I tell you that you could do anything to your girl on the dancefloor I am telling you that you could do anything with her consent. I earned my stripes as the fingerbang champ at the Garage.
LeVAN’s grooves would reach fever pitches and then come back down to Earth only to fly up again. If you played the rhythm right you could orgasm with the music. I mean, that was the point you dig? When I could dance with a female in the Quarters (I never danced with a chick at the Square, niggas would murderlate you) it was like we were always in competition for who had the better moves. In the Garage you and your girl were trying to lock a groove together. You would be riding in her seat, holding her thighs or her hips trying to thrust in to her at the exact second she was backing into you. Not all aggressive either, but smoothly and fluidly as if you were swimming.
The thing I have to give the Garage the most credit for is putting me in the mind to get my own apartment so I could go bang. It wasn’t all about the drugs or decadence for me since I had already seen all of that in Corona where I grew up. I wanted to get some of these girls back to my spot to really express the primal dances we were doing in the dark. I also remember the music that made me feel a kind of way. While Public Enemy #1 and UltraMag’s Funky were the Hip-Hop jams the band that made the funkiest, most soulful house music was Fingers, Incorporated. With Mr.Fingers on the keys and Robert Owens on the vocals this band established the sound for a deep house groove.
I’m not of the mind that the types of parties I enjoyed in NYC when I was 16 don’t still happen here in the city today because they do. KeiStar Productions (shouts to Keita who used to party in LQ) puts together events that still have that energy if not the total ambiance. Paradise Garage had the feel it did because the full spectre of AIDS, crack, heroin and poverty hadn’t fully manifested itself yet. It was tumbling to that place where we could no longer trust anyone in this city and when that moment truly arrived the Garage was no longer a Paradise and its doors closed forever. But I did have a chance to experience a distant planet. And it was good.
Fingers Inc. featuring Robert Owens – ‘Distant Planet’
Fingers Inc. featuring Robert Owens – ‘Bring Down The Walls’
Fingers Inc. featuring Robert Owens – ‘Never No More Lonely’
The tragic murder of Christopher Wallace is still being felt in the boro that he hailed from. The Kings county streets still want justice for their fallen general.
Who is behind the murder of Biggie Smalls? Why hasn’t this murder or that of 2Pac Shakur been solved after more than ten years each. I watch these detective shows that solve murders along with prosecuting trials and all of that happens under an hour.
Before the next sad anniversary the murderer of Biggie Smalls must be found. Or should I say, revealed…
