Summary

The author, a Black man, rejects the title of "king" often ascribed within the Black community, arguing that it misrepresents his identity, history, and the exploitative nature of kingship.

Abstract

The article titled "Don’t Call Me King" is a personal essay by an Afro-American man who challenges the common practice of referring to Black men as "kings." He explains that the title does not align with his reality or heritage, as kings historically had wealth and power derived from exploitation, which contrasts with his own lineage as a descendant of slaves. The author emphasizes that kingship implies a parasitic relationship with subjects, which he does not wish to emulate. He also points out the tyrannical aspects of historical kings, comparing them to dictators and autocrats. Using a chess metaphor, he argues that he identifies more with a knight or a rook, pieces that navigate the board with unique movements and represent resilience and direct action, rather than the king, which is protected and central to the game. The author concludes by asserting that he prefers to be seen as part of a collective "village" rather than a ruler and renounces any notion of being a king, emphasizing his commitment to activism and community.

Opinions

The author feels that the term "king" is inappropriate for him as it does not reflect his economic status or ancestral history.
He believes that kingship is associated with exploitation and a parasitic relationship with subjects, which he rejects.
The author views kings historically as figures who have sold their own people into slavery and acted as tyrants.
He identifies more with the chess pieces knight and rook, symbolizing overcoming obstacles and direct action, rather than the king.
The author renounces the idea of being a king, preferring to be part of a community or "village" instead.
He sees modern-day equivalents of kings as dictators and autocrats who exploit and execute their subjects.
The author is committed to activism and does not wish to be associated with the oppressive connotations of kingship.

Don’t Call Me King

Let Me Explain.

I bought usage of this a very long time ago, forgot where.

Regicide

Within the black community, it’s a common thing to hear one called a “king” or a “queen.” While I cannot and will not speak for black women, I will say that as a black man, I do not seek to be considered a king. If you deem me so, please stop calling me a king. If we are all born kings, I have indeed renounced my crown.

Let me explain.

A king is a person who often has much resources; I do not. I’ve been born poor. I am an Afro-American slave descendant. Concerning slavery, kings were the ones who sold our ancestors to white colonial powers in the first place. While few kings were sold into slavery, it’s very few, and still, another ruling class African sold that king into slavery.

Thinking about it, I’m more likely to be the descendant of a warrior (i.e., war fighter) than a king. While I was born into poverty, I’m doing quite well for myself currently. But I’m still not a king, however.

One thing that frequently gets overlooked is the fact that a king is an identity that needs subjects. A king needs peasants to survive.

A king, technically, has a parasitic relationship with his followers — the peasants. A king’s wealth is born from theft. A king’s wealth is ushered by the exploitation of hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of people.

Needless to say, I don’t want to have to thrive on a parasitic relationship with those who follow me.

While kings are often depicted as benevolent figures in fiction, in reality, they are often cruel. A king cannot exist without subjects, so for those who call themselves “king”, I want them to analyze what they are really calling themselves. I want to know who is uplifting that king. What people are they exploiting. What people are they abusing. Executing. Kings would often take slights — minor forms of disrespect — and punish folk under the pain of death. I don’t want to do that to people who have the mind to follow me. I don’t want those who follow me to fear me as kings were feared. Kings functioned with a form of coercive leadership, and that’s pretty toxic. I don’t want it.

Kings are tyrants

Kings are often autocratic, despotic, and totalitarian types. You know, like dictators.

Kings are nothing but tyrants with positive historical revisionism.

Interestingly, in world history, as the technology of warfare progressed, the more these kings became to be known as dictators and autocrats. The technology of war allowed “kings” around the world to kill, murder, and exploit people around the world — their subjects, mind you — at break-neck speeds.

When once there was a time when a king would say “off with your head” and kill a single subject with an executioner’s axe or a guillotine, nowadays a king can order executions from afar, en masse, by way of war technology such as drone strikes.

Kings are nothing but tyrants with positive historical revisionism.

Life is a Chess Game

Looking at a chess board as a metaphor, it makes even less sense to call me a king. A king is a piece that is the most protected figure in the game. I, as a Black man, don’t have such protection. As a matter of fact, if the king is killed or captured in chess, the game ends. If I’m killed or captured in real life, the game continues. I simply do not see how we are kings. I definitely don’t see how I’m one.

If anything, it makes more sense to call me a knight, representing armored cavalry. Why? because it’s the only piece on the chessboard that can jump over obstacles. I’ve certainly overcome those. The Knight also moves in an odd fashion: one step and then two to the left or right, or two steps and then one to the left or right.

When I think about it further, it makes even more sense to call me a rook. Most people think it’s a castle, but I know that it’s derived from an armored chariot but became a siege tower. A siege tower is a specialized chariot made to invade, overcoming castle walls.

On a chessboard, this piece is particularly powerful, second to the queen, and moves in a linear, direct fashion. A Rook represents direct, blunt force. Blunt, straight to the point. Yeah, that’s definitely me, the Rook.

One of the things that makes me any other piece than a King on the chessboard is the fact that I know I’m not calling the shots. I’m not the cause of the war we are in. I’m not the one who decided on a war to fight. Much like everything that isn’t the king, I’m just here.

The second point is a point that I touched on earlier — I know I’m expendable. If I were to be murdered today, the game will still go on tomorrow. No one is stopping on my death. No one bats an eye if I’m killed. Kill a king? The game ends. The fact that there are people that would end the game if killed, but I would not is indicative to the fact that I am clearly no king. If we were kings, so many of us would not be easily murdered with impunity.

Conclusion

Let’s pull the cat out of the bag — kings are mass murderers.

I cannot say that being a king is such a great thing. Kings have subjects, and those subjects are exploited; and, if unexploitable, executed. Where we once saw kings, we now see dictators, autocrats, totalitarian men wielding power recklessly, exploiting someone out there.

I’m gonna have to insist that you cease calling me king. It is clear that I’m no wealth-stealing totalitarian figure who surrounds himself with yes-men and blind followers. Forgive me when I tell you that I cannot stomach what it takes to be a king, which is the mass exploitation of an entire civilization, murdering those who disagree with policy. Forgive me if I cannot stomach wearing a crown on my head with enough gold and gems on it that could fix the water in Flint.

Allow me to be the knight or rook that I am, constantly engaging in direct action on the battlefield. I’m no king.

If I don’t correct you when you say it, I know it’s a term of endearment within our community, so I will rather be polite. But if you read this, don’t call me king. I don’t care for a kingdom; I care for a village.

If you agree I’ve been born a king, then consider this me renouncing my throne.

I might be regal. I might be magnificent even. But I’m no king.

✪ I speak on power, protest, and politics. Subscribe. ✪ Not a member? Join us. ✪ Follow AfroSapiophile. ✪ Use my activism photography.