My only son turned five years old last week. He is a handsome, articulate, energetic, intelligent, fun-loving and gentle young man. He is the apple of my eye!
There's only one problem; he is Black.
And as his father, I am challenged to do for him what generations of African American fathers have had to do for their sons for far too long in this country; I must inform him that because of his unique blend of gender and pigmentation, there are a different set of rules with which he must contend while growing up.
Nineteen years ago, on a frigid December night in Waco, Texas, what was intended to be a quick stop at the convenience store turned into a two-hour lesson on the racial history of America. A teenager, I was wearing a large jacket with a hood. As I readied myself to exit the car, my grandfather, with whom we were visiting for the holidays, proclaimed, "Take that hood off your head before you go in that store or they will blow your brains out!" Such sudden outbursts were uncharacteristic for my rather mild-mannered grandfather. I found his proclamation of the possibility of my abrupt and violent demise rather upsetting. And it was difficult for me to comprehend. I was simply going to buy some sodas, a rather non-hostile action in my opinion.
For what felt more like an eternity than two hours, my grandfather, grandmother, mother, and uncle awakened me to some troubling realities: 1) That my dark skin, then embracing a 5-foot-10-inch, 13-year-old frame, was a considerable threat for some people, and 2) that some people would not be patient enough to judge me based on the content of my character but rather would be fixated on the color of my skin, and that the color of my skin, viewed through the lens of their own prejudices, meant that I was the physical embodiment of their greatest fear (a big, Black man), fears reinforced daily by mass media. Ever since that fateful December night, I have lived life in full view of these realities.
Having added over five inches and one hundred pounds to that 13-year-old frame over the years, when riding in elevators, I have learned to give quick and easy smiles to disarm my fellow passengers and to ensure them that they are not in any imminent danger. I am mindful of my tone and the inflection of my voice when in conversation in mixed groups as I have learned that I am not afforded the same terms of conversation as others. For if I slightly raise my voice, instead of describing me as passionate, some will label me an angry Black man. Like countless generations of Black men, I have been followed in stores and stopped by police so many times without cause that I am pleasantly surprised when it does not happen.
Now, I, a latter generation Gen-Xer, must pass down to my post-Millennial son some of the rules of engagement for a Black man in this society: 1) If the police stop you make sure you stop in a well-lit area and don't make any sudden moves. In fact, verbally broadcast your actions (i.e., Officer, I am now reaching into the glove compartment for my registration). 2) Always get the receipt after making a purchase, no matter how small, so no one can falsely accuse you of theft later. 3) It doesn't matter if the white kids are doing it. Your punishment will always be much more severe if you are caught doing the same. This is also true for adulthood.
I must inform my son that even if he were blessed to graduate from an Ivy League law school with high honors, having served as the editor of that prestigious school's law review, and go on to be elected the President of the United States of America, even then, some people will consider him to be unqualified for the job and question whether he is a "true" American on account of his Blackness. I will tell him about James Byrd, Jr., the fake drug scandal of Dallas, the Tulia drug busts, and other contemporary instances of societal racism in our home State of Texas, even as previous generations of Black fathers have spoken to their sons of Emmett Till, the Tuskegee Experiment, and COINTELPRO.
And yes, I will tell him about Troy Anthony Davis. I will tell him that even in the face of compelling doubt surrounding his conviction, the cries of other nations, or the pleas of former U.S. Presidents and Nobel Laureates to spare his life, poison can be injected into his veins, for in the eyes of some, he is considered to be an animal that must be put down at all costs.
I will take part in this familiar, yet painful, ritual, for as the Apostle Paul articulated to his sons and daughters in the faith, I would not want my son to be "uninformed...about the troubles we [have] experienced" in this country (2 Corinthians 1:8).
Then I will tell my son, "Go and change the world!"
Follow Michael W. Waters on Twitter: www.twitter.com/RevMikeWaters
BUT
I'm tried....I'm tired of constantly looking over my back for police as a normal law abiding citizen.
I'm tired....of women looking at me like I'm going to rob them even when I'm in my suit.
I'm tired...of all of the little ways I have to correct myself so no one feels threatened by me.
I am a proud educated, eclectic black man. I see the world through a jaded lends because the world see me through that same broken glass. I hate having to deal with things the 'normal' americans don't ever face in their lives nor does it even cross their mind. We demand change!!! We demand fair and equal treatment that is promised to us by the constitution...Damn it....WE Built this country...for free. This is the least you could do to repay your debt to us!
Why do you feel a need to put them at ease - if they have angst about your mere presence that's their problem not yours - I rarely even smile back when they give me their little nervous smile. I rather enjoy the tension my presence creates for the ignorant, and I have always refused to do anything to put them at ease because they are nervous about being in the presence of a large black man.
I prefer to be the 'Spook who sat by the door'
Gee I wonder why anyone would feel threatened?
If an older black woman is walking down the street and coming in the opposite direction are three young black men with hoodies, she clutches her purse a little tighter and thinks about crossing the street. If its three white kids she does not. This reaction might or might not be rational, I don't know, but it is true.
Let the attacks on my character begin now. But try and think about the truth of what I am saying too.
I love being black. I love my genes. I love our history of survival. I love being a role model to others. I'm a bit of an attention seeker, and living in a predominantly white area, I get it. I love proving people's stereotypes wrong. I love outsmarting others. I love knowing that we evolved and mutated skin to withstand solar radiation. I love the fact that we have produced the top athletes of the world. I love the fact that within the black community, they are other black males that value weight training. And I love - well, almost everything.
Individually, I love being black, - I absolute hate those black people who get involved in criminality and in particular drugs.
Too few people say this, but it's a real priviledge to be black. The dark knights of the world, haha and I love it.
Doing drugs is low, and carries no sense of black pride whatsoever. Speaking from experience, I have never taken drugs. A few years ago I was offered coke, weed and other drugs by "whites", for free. I said 'no' in every one of them situations and walked away. And that's what being black is about. You do the right thing in the face of adversity.
Doing drugs is low. Selling them is low. And drug dealers are destroying lives of other people, and damaging the black community. I don't know why some black people have come to acceptability that taking drugs is OK. It isn't. They can and do cause serious damage to the human body. Some drugs severely impair a person's ability to make healthy choices and decisions. They are psychologically addictive with cravings that make people more aggressive, anxious and prone to mood swings. We're talking lifelong problems not only for the drug taker, but also potentially, for their children schizophrenia, permanent nerve damage, defects. Drugs should *never* be an option.
Now, no offense Florida, but if people like you are going around justifying drug use, then I cannot think that you have the interests of the black community at heart. One can find *respectable* entrepreneur ways to get an extra income. If they really, really can't, then *still* I would never think that resorting to crime is justifiable. Being black is about doing what is right morally.
It's not a case of, there's racism that affects us and we're just to be *aware* of it. The real intelligence is instilling that this is one of the reasons why we have to be successful, law-abiding, healthy etc.
Anyway, completely agree. We can use racism to better ourselves.
I have to admit, the election of Obama is what really made me realize I had a different world view compared to younger people. I can distinctly remember telling a group of youth that I didn’t think I’d ever see a Black man elected president of the U.S. in my lifetime. Turns out I’ll probably end up seeing a woman, Latino, and/or Asian president before I die. For many young people this has likely always been their thinking, even though older people like me often place limitations on their expectations.
I will prepare and educate my son on how to navigate this world with caution, but my hope is his world will be less treacherous. If he is ever pulled over by a police officer, that officer is more likely to have a best friend who looks like my son. When he goes into a store the owner could be married to someone who looks like him. It sounds idealistic, but their world will be different from ours.
Same advice my white son gets.
How many stories do you know of white men being accidentally shot because the officier thought he had a gun or preceived him to be resisting arrest?