growing up black

i love tumblr.

when i first arrived there, i barely understood it: a blogging interface designed mainly for artists, photographers, and other creatives who wanted to blog without words. although it's greatly expanded since then, it is still, mainly, that.

tumblr's also allowed me to encounter a fantastic community of insightful, intelligent, constantly questioning women whose thoughts i enjoy reading and, occasionally, engaging with.  i say occasionally because i try to keep the words to a minimum, poetry being an exception. i built my tumblog as a space to take in inspiring imagery, and i've largely kept it that way.

however, i have noticed the stories of {presumably} blackfolks and other people of color who didn't grow up around blackfolks/their folks.  and the deprogramming that has to happen when one grows up in that context. 

by no means were my parents or extended family what you would call "race people".  there's not even a black muslim among us.  i heard few explicitly political or religious conversations, although i picked up nuggets of their philosophies. folks shouldn't go without in a country this affluent. god is love. that kind of thing.

one thing that was explicitly spoken: whitefolks weren't "like us". they weren't raised to the level of angels or reduced to heinous demons; they were just different. and, sometimes, they tried to make us feel bad about who we were. but that was just some bullshit they made up.  and so what? we're still here anyway.

yes, i heard the stories of carrying food with you when you traveled.  all the places we couldn't go to or neighborhoods we couldn't live in.  my great grandmother was a domestic worker. my dad constantly railed against the racism in law enforcement--but he'd also praise those whose love for the city enabled them to do their jobs well and fairly.

and, yes, i got the equivalent of the "don't bring 'em home if they can't use your comb" speech {that might be another entry...}.

on the other hand, they also didn't care if my friends came from roland park or north avenue, as long as they were good friends.  they didn't hang with bourgie negroes, and no one felt the need to sacrifice culture and sense of self to "make it".   

my schools--because they were built around ability more than zoning, property tax, or anything else--were more multicultural than most in baltimore city.  in elementary school especially, i was taught by teachers who engaged us and loved us--race or ethnicity notwithstanding.  i fully understand that for a solidly middle class, urban black girl, i had a charmed public education.  on all levels.

what's all this mean? it means that whiteness--as a social and psychological concept--did not truly enter my life until college. the notion of white supremacy making the world go 'round was something i don't think i had language for until late adolescence, if then.  no one insulted me (to my face) with a racial slur. with family, i only heard the n-word used for someone you didn't like--and when it was said out of that context, it was amongst blackfolks in varied and colorful ways.    

i helped run "sisters for black awareness" in high school, but that wasn't to confront whiteness or make safe space, i've just always been interested in my identity and heritage beyond the "we came here as slaves" narrative. there were times when the organization had to step up in that way, but that's another blog.

whiteness wasn't prettier. it wasn't easier. if anything, it was almost pitiable. it didn't matter if most of the folks on tv, the president, or similar folks were white--probably because the first mayor of my city that i was aware of was black.  the main magazines in our house were ebony, jet and essence. 

blackness was normal.  broad, wide and deep.

and now, i can see how wonderful a blessing that knowing is.   

the shadow scholar

this is mind blowing.

reading this, i can almost forgive a college professor who treated me as if i didn't write my own stuff for an honors course--although i still think that was on some "you can't be this smart, black girl" ish. my black teachers never assumed i was less than capable. and i was in boston.

i could also DO this. talk about tempting. that's just the kind of thing that would supplement my income quite nicely.

but it would eat at me. i know it. damn this moral compass.

but still...wow.

derailing for dummies

this link showed up on twitter yesterday, and i think it's a great way to make some important points.

difficult discussions are learning opportunities, not an excuse to shut down. we can all make mistakes when attempting to communicate with anyone. the key is to stay open and listen.

it's also worth noting that there's a difference between resting on privilege and knowing when it's time to shut down a conversation.  even then, it's how you shut down the conversation that matters.

dear old morehouse

word.

the dropout

i'm not a michael baisden fan, but i happened to tune in yesterday evening and he was talking about the astronomical drop out rate of black students.

in baltimore, there's a general feeling that one of the best things about reaching the age of 16 is that the truant officers can't make you go to school anymore.

so what's happening here?

many folks who can remember segregation and the civil rights era are quick to frame this as "laziness" or "ingratitude", but i reject that analysis.

for generations, high school was enough. you could graduate, get a good factory or government job, and go from there. the bottom fell out with the exodus of industry, but many folks' mentalities stayed the same.*

and there are other factors. the first crack babies are reaching their 20s**. for some, teen pregnancy is in its 2nd or 3rd generation--meaning mothers in their teens, grandmothers in their 30s and great grandmothers in their 40s-50s. granny and big mama's wisdom has succumbed to stroke, breast cancer, diabetes and stress. many of us do not have the access to our histories--familial and cultural--that our elders did.

other cultural institutions have eroded, too. the activist preachers of 30 plus years ago have given way to today's megachurch pimpin' preachers. not that we didn't have them in the pulpit long before now, but pushing for the revolution--in spirit and/or deed--is the exception, not the rule.

black children today are immersed in a culture of apathy, disconnected from themselves, their families (due to stressful work schedules, financial hardship...) and their spirits.

they see the real world early and up close. abstract notions of what will be "good for them later" do not make sense; they know tomorrow isn't promised.

they know education is not a guaranteed way out because they see their mothers and fathers struggling to hold on to the jobs their college degrees guaranteed them 20 years ago. they may not know the name horatio alger, but they know his stories are lies.

they know college is a far off dream, even for some of the best and brightest of them. for those that do get that far, retention is an issue.

to keep these kids in school, a few things will probably have to happen:

• real world relevance. it might be time to do away with textbooks as much as humanly possible. use real world situations. discover teachable moments in their neighborhoods, with people who look like them--and get them out of those neighborhoods, too. highlight various careers and map clear, concrete strategies on how to achieve those goals--from artistic endeavors to engineering and computer science.
  
  
• emphasize financial literacy/economics. urban kids are well aware of how money works and how the lack of it affects them. there is plenty of business acumen in the 'hood. tap into it. every elementary school should have that project where they get interest-bearing checking accounts and balance their checkbooks. teach them about credit cards so they're not bamboozled when they get to college and see all those fancy giveaway tables. use articles like this and this to explode myths about money in the entertainment/sporting industries.
  
  
• community schools. if you're saying, "this is the parents' job...", consider this: the u.s. runs on a system whereby only the most privileged of parents can take time out from their job(s) to fully raise their children in the ways that would mold them into the productive citizens everyone claims to want***, and they hire nannies and boarding schools to do it for them. so, we can either (a) have all childbearing stop immediately except in, say, the top earning 10-15% of households, (b) give parents liberal family leave and adequate vacation/sick time, or (c) put it in the schools. readily available social workers, psychologists/psychiatrists, community leaders, and (multi)culturally competent teachers are essential. thankfully, these schools are popping up everywhere--and they include help and resources for parents.
  

not that i know shit. but, as a 31 year old raised by parents nearly 30 years older, i understand the sacrifices they and others made while also sympathizing with the struggles of my peers and those who are teenagers now.

we were not lazy or ungrateful, and neither are these kids. they probably just don't see how school makes sense. in the midst of a crumbling economy, skyrocketing debt, and mind-numbing, cube farm jobs that are killing their parents, i can't say i blame them.

the old school lines don't hold weight. it's time for a new paradigm.


*although you can argue the differences between the values of bourgeois black folks and their unsophisticated country (or urban hoodlum) cousins.

**admittedly, there are some nature/nurture issues here, but talk to any black teacher in an urban school and they'll tell you the signs. in addition, lead poisoning and other environmental racism issues that disproportionately affect blk folks and other poor people of color can also lead to educational difficulties.

***while ignoring this and this plus all the labor it takes to run both. that's not coming outta harvard. it's coming out of the streets.

mandela's children

baltimore sun three part series