You Are NOT Your Ancestors!

by with 5 Comments CultureFeatured

Popular opinion always sides with the right side of history. Hindsight being 20/20, that’s an easy decision to make. It’s real easy to armchair quarterback the Civil Rights Era, boldly proclaiming from 2020 that you would’ve marched arm in arm in 1965. But the reality is, 2020 is not 1965 and we have no idea the danger our elders faced as the walked across the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

The painful truth is that many sat paralyzed in 1965, overwhelmed by the reality that participation then could literally mean death. Truthfully, their paralysis was justified in 1965. Being vocal and/or visible was a death sentence for many, including the greatest icons of that era. In 1965, one had to weigh the fight for justice against the sanctity of their family and home. Four little girls in the 16th Street Baptist Church speak to that tragic reality in a way that many in today’s world could never comprehend.

To say those that did sit out the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 60s were justified in their terror is an understatement. It was pragmatism at work. It was simply life, where an alleged whistle in the wrong direction could get a child beaten, dismembered, and dragged to the bottom of a river. There’s a painful contradiction in many shunning those that did sit out, when they didn’t live in those times.

The more painful reality is that many today still sit out, while facing far less severe consequences. Many that have boldly proclaimed they would rather die than be enslaved or that they would never take the disrespect that our ancestors braved. That same crowd that boldly wears the, “I’m not my ancestors, you can catch these hands” T-shirts, while marching in safe spaces, 50 plus years late. They are right about one thing, THEY ARE NOT THEIR ANCESTORS. They don’t have the heart to balance life and death by seeking basic dignities in every facet of survival, such as a water fountain or bathroom.

We are currently living in a time where the Chief Executive blatantly espouses prejudice, racism, bigotry and division in a manner that makes Nixon or Reagan seem tame. Yet, the “I’m not my ancestors” crowd isn’t certain of what to do. We are seemingly more concerned with the open marriages of celebrities, foolish people arguing over their “Constitutional right” to not wear masks, or the never-ending quest to prove who is the most conscious in the room.

One must pose the question, what does any of that matter to progress?

To that same crowd of social media warriors, fighting for the newest and boldest cause that is trending on Twitter, the time for hypotheticals has long passed. In reality, it was an illusion and the time for hypotheticals never arrived. Oppression never ended. Freedom was never fully achieved. So what is the wait about? When is the time right? Should we postpone true liberation longer for a more opportune time? Maybe it will be more convenient in 2030. It’s only another decade away…

But you’re right, YOU ARE NOT YOUR ANCESTORS! They fought. They didn’t wait. They survived atrocities that would seem unbearable to many now who complain of not having fully functional A/C or bad WiFi signal. Our ancestors didn’t get comfortable waiting around for a more opportune time. Our ancestors fought, knowing some would likely die. Our ancestors, and many white allies, had far more heart than many of the social justice warriors of today preaching from digital pulpits in their comfortable homes. Our ancestors died for our comfort, while we sit this one out because “we are too busy” or “we should be social distancing,” as if police violence isn’t as big of a threat as COVID-19.

July 17, 2020, marked the death of two Civil Rights Era GIANTS. As we view their collective legacies, both individually and jointly, we must take pause to determine what is next.

We have let our ancestors down in our comfort. Ironically, that comfort was built on the backs of our ancestors’ sacrifice, not our own. Are we willing to sacrifice our comfort and individual “successes” to push the future of our people forward? John Lewis and C.T. Vivian both did. That was their life work. Collectively, many of us have not. Again, we are NOT our ancestors.

While we complain from our WiFi soapboxes and boldly proclaim what we would’ve done on social media, our community is still engulfed in a deliberate and subversive form of genocide. While we bicker over what #BlackLivesMatter should mean, our children are dying at the hands of police, systemic racism, and at the hands of other children. Yet, we sit those out to stay comfortable. That same comfort we have not truly earned, but instead inherited. So yes, we are NOT our ancestors. They were better men and women.

To those who hypothesize on what they “would’ve done” during slavery or Jim Crow, you no longer have to hypothesize. The time is now. A bigot occupies the Oval Office. This Administration openly works to roll back the social progress of the last 50 years in an attempt to make America what it was in the “good ole days.” You don’t have to hypothesize on what you would’ve done when facing police dogs, fire hoses, clubs, prison, lifelong persecution, or death. You won’t get your hands dirty engaging in GOOD TROUBLE during a time when the consequences of said action pale in comparison. You would’ve sat out the movement of the 50s and 60s because you’re sitting out now. It’s the same mentality of subjugation by appeasement. To you I say, you’re damn right, YOU ARE NOT YOUR ANCESTORS!

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AMERICAN NOIR

by with No Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

“Fuck you! You black asshole!” is what she shouted as she poured the contents of her alcoholic drink all over me.

I had just arrived at a crowded bar in midtown Manhattan to meet a few colleagues for happy hour after work. We were huddled in casual conversation when someone walked by and forcefully pushed me as they were walking by; so much so, that I bumped into my colleague standing across from me. Agitated, I turned around to the culprit and said, “You can say excuse me!”, to which she responded with the racially charged epithet mentioned above. An uncomfortable silence fell over my colleagues as they were aghast by her racially charged remark and wondered aloud if people “like that” still existed.

The story got worse from that point but those details are not important. What is important is that these racially charged moments of aggression are potentially lurking around every corner of the Black experience. I could tell of the time when I was in high school, walking home from basketball practice in my catholic school uniform, when two police officers jumped the curb and drew their guns on my teammate and I. I could tell of the time I was in Atlanta when a cop pulled me over in my rental car and said, “Boy, get me your [rental] papers, I want to make sure this is yours,” before I was then pulled over again less than 3 minutes later by another cop who told me that my headlights were not on (it was 2 pm). I could tell of the time when an ex-girlfriend’s roommate was disgusted that she let a Black man take a shower in their bathroom. I could tell of the time when I was at the Intercontinental in Mexico and the hotel manager said to my friends, “Your Black friend isn’t welcome here.”

All of those horrible incidents of racial aggression don’t add up to the constant barrage of racial microaggressions that occur on a daily basis in the Black experience. Psychology Today defines racial microaggressions as, “brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults towards people of color.”

Standing at 6’1” with a muscular build, I have a comparatively large physical presence. Layered on top of that is the fact that I am proudly dark skinned, so you might better understand some of the microaggressions that occur in my daily Black experience. However, what some may seem to forget, is that before all of those descriptors, I am a hominid (i.e. a human) with dignity.

(Dignity…)

When I walked into business meetings dressed in a suit and got asked where I played football, I know it was an attempt to erode my dignity. When I conducted a meeting and was then asked where I received my education, I know it was an attempt to erode my dignity. Being chased down and emasculated by another visiting employee at my office, who didn’t realize that I also worked there because I was casually dressed, was an attempt to erode my dignity. Conversely, last night, while wearing a custom tux and repeatedly being asked security type questions is an attempt to erode my dignity. Having to suppress my frustrations in fear of being labeled an “angry Black man” while White colleagues have the ability to freely express their frustrations, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Not seeing any Black executives at the company by which you’re employed, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Being told, “you’re not like those Black people,” when you absolutely are just like your Black brothers and sisters, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Being told that you don’t sound like you were born and raised in Brooklyn because you’re well-spoken, is an attempt to erode my dignity. People that have told me that they, “don’t see race,” are attempting to erode my dignity.  Going on a date and being told, “I know I’ve put on too much weight when Black guys start hitting on me,” is an attempt to erode my dignity. Dating someone who says, “my family will never accept you,” is an attempt to erode my dignity. Seeing the recurring violence against Black bodies and the equally as divisive rhetoric that follows on social platforms, is an attempt to erode my dignity. If this reads as an overwhelming paragraph of experiences then just imagine living it every day.  

Then there are the psychological questions that begin to fester in my mind because of the racial climate in which we live. Constantly wondering if I am walking too close to someone thereby putting their feelings above my own, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. Sitting across from a new prospective client and wondering how does this person view Black people, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. Walking out of an interview and wondering if you will or will not get the job on the merit of your experience and not because of the color of your skin, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. All of these thoughts come in a flash but can tally up over the course of time to weigh on one’s psyche.

The experiences above are not shared by my White colleagues and friends and therefore we lack the equality that the Declaration of Independence illustrates. Ignoring this difference continues to marginalize our experience as humans with darker epidermis. Despite the aggressions and microaggressions lurking around any given corner, Black people across the diaspora are not victims, we are mighty victors in the face of an ongoing attempt to rob us of a dignity that we hold so dear. But we will not crumble to any perils that may be lurking around any corners because as Maya Angelou wrote, “I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise. I rise. I rise.”

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