When I glanced at this week’s F.B.I.’s “10 most wanted” list, I was mildly surprised when I saw that no one on it was Black (closer examination did reveal former Black Liberation Army member and alleged cop killer Joanne Deborah Chesimard, better known as Assata Olugbata Shakur, aunt and godmother of the iconic rapper Tupac Shakur, on the list of most wanted terrorists).
The reason for my reaction is because, in my experience, in the American psyche, (and apart from his regular presence in the annals of sports and entertainment) the African American male is, fairly or unfairly, part and parcel to criminality in these United States, and has (arguably) been so at least since the end of slavery.
This reality of our society has been brought to the forefront with the rash of police-related shootings and/or physical abuse over the past few years. For men of color however, this has been just an afro-centric variation of the transitions of life that everyone experiences: birth, initiations into specific lifestyles, marriage or other partnerships, and the fate that awaits us all: death.
But for Black youth—especially in Los Angeles, a common hurdle between adolescence and adulthood is the interaction with law enforcement. For some so-called “at-risk-youth,” such encounters have almost become a rite of passage.
Locally middle-aged men recall the “bull sessions” of their youth, in which they compared the various techniques of abuse utilized by the 77th and Newton Divisions of the L.A.P.D., and above all, the infamous Firestone substation of the Sheriff’s Department. In some circles, the act of a policeman arriving at a youngster’s school to question him about a criminal investigation would essentially make him a local celebrity, at least temporarily.
This transition into Black masculinity in California often parallels another transition into adulthood, receiving a driver’s license, which is essentially a method of social control, in which the state may excise dominion over a person’s finances and employment on top of their right to operate a motor vehicle.
The African American male’s relationship with authority transcends social status or caste system. This is a phenomenon that is unique to the African American experience. Jewish actress Peggy Lipton has recounted the eye-opening episodes in which police initiated traffic stops when she was in the company of her then-husband Quincy Jones during their 16-year marriage, under the notion that a White woman in the company of a Black man must 1) be a prostitute, or 2) be a kidnapping victim.
Before his handling of the O.J. Simpson trial transformed him into a courtroom legend, Johnny Cochran experienced the humiliation of being pulled over by overzealous cops at gun point while driving his two daughters in 1979. The episode deescalated only when they found his Assistant District Attorney’s badge among his personal property.
Cochran took a substantial pay cut when he left private practice to join the D.A.’s office merely because he felt he could change the system from within.
In the aftermath of the Ferguson shooting, the questionable arrest and death of Freddie Gray in Baltimore, and other incidents across the country, the hue and cry for police reform is once again in the air, with the introduction of patrol body cameras heralded as a possible “cure all” towards further abuse to the dignity and physical well-being of America’s real most wanted: the Black male.
All this is, of course, a pipe dream. In the coming months, there will undoubtedly be, more police confrontations between upholders of the law and the boogie men of American culture. As this paper went to print, another Black man, Brendon Glenn, 29, was gunned down by police in the bohemian section of Venice late Tuesday night after a call to authorities about him harrassing individuals on Windward Avenue.
“The violence is instigated and propagated against Black people, especially men,” says Pete White of the Los Angeles Community Action Network (LA CAN), referencing an episode last August when a man was beaten and tasered by the police, resulting in a near riot.
Homicide and violent death are democratic acts to be sure, but they none-the-less specifically targets the man of African descent, the end result of systemic harassment that usually starts in early adolescence.
In all likelihood, the man child that our esteemed editor now carries to term will likely have his own rite of passage, when he realizes that he to is in a category beneath even those who strive for the American Dream without the benefit of native birth or personal accomplishment.
Open letter from a Mommy-to-Be on Mother’s Day
By Juliana Norwood
Editor-in-Chief
This year I will be giving birth to a little boy; a tiny prince; due in August he will be my strong little Leo the Lion. Poppy is his current nickname (because he was the size of a poppy seed, when I first found out I was with child) but of all of the affectionate mini monikers that we have so far adorned him with, the one that gives me pause, the one that he will never be able to shake or outgrow, is Black man in America.
What should be worn as a badge of pride, as an honor is now—and probably has always been—synonymous with struggle, misfortune, prejudice and a laundry list of preconceived notions, that will be attached to him, in many cases, before he is even able to make his own impressions.
The lessons that his father and I are already trying to figure out how to teach him are maddening. Before we learned his sex, we hoped for a boy, because for our first child, having a young man seemed “easier.” After all, a young boy only needs clean jeans and a T-shirt, a neat haircut, lessons from dad on respect and honor and peeing standing up … and of course, the “birds and the bees” talk which I hope is more extensive than “blah blah blah, here are some condoms.”
Unlike with a girl, there would be no fussy dresses and stockings, ponytails and barrettes, no menstrual period, no never-ending fight to ward off all boys, nor grappling with the emotional rollercoaster that comes from simply being female–the constant societal attack on your self esteem. Be prettier, be thinner, be sexier; the roadblocks and glass ceilings that, let’s be honest, would only be compounded by her color.
Nah.
We decided it’d be best to get a little hands-on experience first and root for the man-child.
But now we sit, thinking about the much more difficult hurdles we will have to endure. Brought to the forefront of our minds like glaring billboards are the recent headlines of unarmed Black men being gunned down by law enforcement.
How do you teach a young Black boy that the police are his allies; that they are there for his protection; that he can call them, when he is in trouble; that they are paid with his (our) tax dollars, and at the same time make him understand that they won’t always have his best interest in mind. That they will sometimes suspect him of wrongdoing just because of the way he looks or the area that he is in. That they fear him, and may therefore, disrespect him without any just cause? How do you make your little boy understand that even in those extremely heinous situations, that for his own safety, he must STILL show them respect and obey their orders?
The explanation will be contradictory of one of the main lessons that we aim to teach Black boys in our communities—“You have to give respect, to get respect.”
What about his schooling options? Should he go to public or private school? Single race? Single sex? Will busing him out to where there is “better opportunity” but the students and faculty look less and less like he does work in his favor or be a hindrance to his personal growth in the long run?
How do you work to build pride in a man whose race causes him to rank at the bottom of every societal measuring stick—including health disparities, criminal justice disparities, learning and educational accomplishment disparities, employment disparities, and wealth disparities?
There is only one way: For me, as a mother-to-be, and for all the mothers already rearing their little Black boys, we must remind them every day that numbers are only that. That just because they are a reality doesn’t mean they are meant to be his reality. That he doesn’t have to fit into the boxes this world has carved out for him. That his struggle only makes him that much more equipped to handle the harder parts of life. That any barrier placed in his path will always have a way around it, over it, under it, or through it.
We, as mothers, and even simply as Black women, whether that be as sisters, aunts, grandmothers, or friends must remind him that we value Black boys, even if it seems the world does not. That we will not turn our backs on them, even when the world does.
We must remind them about the importance of education and of family. That there is always more to learn and that knowledge will be his greatest weapon. That keeping together and rearing a strong family should be his greatest victory.
Mothers, we must not forget to discipline our young men when they need it, yet keep their dignity intact while doing it.
The world (a.k.a. mainstream media) was quick to praise Toya Graham for the very public pummeling of her teenage son who attempted to participate in the riots in Baltimore, Md., but the message she sent was the very one we as a race are trying so hard to get the world to unsee: that beating a Black man is justified when he is behaving in a way not to your liking. I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it … I’m saying it may have had a better impact at home, accompanied with a serious talk about the consequences of his actions. Will he remember from that day how irresponsibly he acted? Or will he simply remember the day his mom beat him and embarrassed him on national television?
We must remember that every lesson that we teach and every lesson that we don’t teach will have a ripple effect on the men our little Black boys become. I, for one, plan to hit the ground running.
So, although my little bundle won’t quite be here to celebrate Mother’s Day with me this year, I am a mother still, and I vow that I will do all in my power to raise a Black man in America that we can all be proud of.
Happy Mother’s Day 2015
