The Gravity of Racism: A Weight You Can't Escape

In my junior year at Vanderbilt University as an Electrical Engineering major, I took the formidable Differential Equations math class required for all engineering majors. Though my freshman year with Calculus and Chemistry had been a bumpy one, I rather enjoyed Differential Equations because it was such a highly useful tool for the world of Engineering that I desired to be one day be employed. Plainly stated, Differential Equations are mathematical equations of variables and functions used to describe a deterministic relationship between continuously varying quantities and their rates of change in space or time. For instance, these equations can be used to find the velocity of a ball falling through the air considering the gravity and resistance the ball experiences[1]. To me, the best part (oddly I found this to be slightly fun at the time) of solving these equations was being able to use constants in which a certain value was already known. Therefore, in the aforementioned example, the gravitational constant (which is 9.81 m/s² – and, yes I still remember this by heart) was easy to factor into the equation. Having constants made dealing with unknown variables a bit more bearable and provided more insight as to how to navigate the problem in finding the proper solution. Though I only ever thought that Diff EQ (differential equations) was suitable in application with science and engineering, I think that its concept fairly communicates the ultimate truth of Derrick Bell’s work The Faces at the Bottom of the Well. It has been a supreme goal of the United States to posit racism as a variable that is ever changing and evolving; however, Bell postulates the grizzly truth that racism is not some variable that has decreased or improved over time. Instead, racism is a constant – ever present, never erasable – impermeable and permanent facet to the American backdrop of society.

In Diff EQ, the constants we were able to use in solving problems were not some issue of question; rather, they were well-proven and widely used both historically and presently. As a nation, whose foundation was forged on the very backs of Black people, racism is both well-proven and widely practiced historically and presently. Yet, there has been a hesitance to classify its existence as a permanent earmark of our society. Bell provides clear justification as to why racism has been verifiably immortalized in America, saying:

…the continued viability of racism “demonstrates that racism is not simply an excrescence on a fundamentally healthy liberal democratic body, but it is part of what shapes and energizes the body.” Under this view, “liberal democracy and racism in the United States, are historically, even inherently, reinforcing; American society as we know it exists only because of its foundation in racially based slavery, and it thrives only because racial discrimination continues.” The apparent anomaly is an actual symbiosis. The permanence of this “symbiosis” ensures that civil rights gains will be temporary and setbacks inevitable[2].

Therefore, since racism is a constant in our society, it must be factored into the equation as such instead of being viewed as something that is unknown throughout space or time. Then, and only then, will Blacks in America ever be able to assess our place in society and what to do about our plight with the knowledge that racism is not a function that can be minimized or zeroed out with a stroke of pen or calculation of laws.

                As innately as the gravitational constant comes to my mind now, after using it in numerous equations and observing its theorem proved time and time again, how do you explain it to someone who has been privileged enough to live outside of the pull of gravity, so-to-speak? My Momma always used to tell me, “that ain’t gone make sense to a man on the moon” when I would try to explain to her my warped since of teenage logic at the time, and, perhaps, this cliché saying fits here as well. As we evaluate racism in America, for Whites they have literally been on the moon – outside of earth’s gravitational pull of the ugliness of racism since they have the normative privilege of being “superior” to anyone considered Other. Even mere discussions of racism as a constant, permanent schema of the American fabric would simply not make sense to them. What is more, is that even for those of us who have never had the privilege of escaping the effects of discrimination under the gravity of racism due to the color of our skin, we still believe that certain hierarchies of elevation allow certain pockets of us to experience less gravity than others. For Derrick Bell, this is all blasphemy. Denying the permanence of racism is like denying God is real.

Perhaps those of us who can admit we are imprisoned by the history of racial subordination in America can accept – as slaves had no choice but to accept – our fate. Not that we legitimate the racism of the oppressor. On the contrary, we can only delegitimate it if we can accurately pinpoint it. And racism lies at the center, not the periphery; in the permanent, not in the fleeting; in the real lives of black and white people, not in the sentimental caverns of the mind[3].

In his work Faces at the Bottom of the Well, Bell implores us similarly to the famous Spike Lee line to WAKE UP! The time for seeing and calling racism the spade that it truly is, is now.

                The thing about racism is that it is such a touchy subject – kind of like Jesus. You bring His name up in these times and people will pause and wait to see what you will say and do next. The same is true with racism. It is that taboo thing that you want to keep as some ideology rather than a way or part of life. So, imagine not only having to write an entire book on racism, but also having to explain why it’s here to stay. That seems like a ridiculously negative and counter-productive task, especially to those who have worked so hard and long to eradicate it. However, Derrick Bell navigates this weighty topic with ingenuity and clarity. He presents several fictional, other-worldly stories that encapsulate an aspect about the shape, size, and color of racism in America that are undeniably eerie once confronted. For example, with the chapter on Racial Preference Licensing – he presents the idea that business owners buy a license to legally discriminate as much as their hearts desired and that a portion of their profits go to a fund to help Black people with their own living and professional expenses. The point of his story was not that the U.S. should actually consider employing this strategy but rather the grim reality that if this law were in effect much less discrimination would actually happen as we are accustomed to today. In another chapter, Bell presents the outlandish idea that all the Black faculty and President of Harvard University were killed in an explosion. In the final letter written by the President of the University, he speaks of the effort to hire more Blacks and equalize opportunities for higher minority recruitment. As a means to pay homage to those lost in the explosion, the community decided to honor the President’s wishes and increase the number of Blacks on faculty at Harvard. Bell wished to show how outlandish it is that a tragedy would serve as the precipice for doing the right thing – something that should have been done all along. Then, the question is – why does Bell use these stories rather than using real life examples of racism? Because of the jarring and sensitive nature of racist experiences, he uses these other-worldly anecdotes to serve as a mechanism to create distance between the audience and the topic. By doing this, the reader would be able to see through to the truths of each example without having to necessarily make an emotional connection.

                What strikes me about the chapters written in Bell’s pages is the realism hidden within each character. Though one such story wasn’t captured within his chapters, Fruitvale Station, or the life and death of Oscar Grant, may as well have been another account in Bell’s book. I found myself getting lost between the fantasy worlds he was creating and the real lived racist experiences that even I have had a Black woman. I experienced this same ambivalence when I watched Fruitvale Station. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I know this is a cinematic portrayal, but this is everyday life.’ When 22 year-old Oscar Grant was murdered, martyred, lynched, it was as if the earth’s gravitational pull curled itself up into a wrecking ball and slammed into my gut. I remember vividly walking out of the movie theaters panic-stricken, unable to breathe, and sobbing uncontrollably. The gravity of racism – its ugliness, consistency, and permanence – became real all over again in that moment. Just like the O2 held within the atmosphere, racism is everywhere permeating every being, every crevice and corner.

                Rather than continue on in stubborn denial of the staying power of racism, Bell would have us all confront the truth. It is not that that he wishes for people to feel defeated by the existence of racism, but he finds that acknowledging the truth is enlightening.

Armed with this knowledge, and with the enlightened, humility-based commitment that it engenders, we can accept the dilemmas of committed confrontation with evils we cannot end. We can go forth to serve, knowing that our failure to act will not change conditions and may very well worsen them. We can listen carefully to those who may have been most subordinated…We must learn from their example, learn from those whom would teach.[4]

When we are able to rightly identify the agency and entity of racism with accuracy about its gravitational pull, we will be able to better evaluate our stance in dealing with it properly. In a lecture this semester, Dr. Stacey Floyd-Thomas taught about the genius of discrimination – it is genius because it poses itself as many different other ills, so that you end up only treating the symptoms while masking the true source. The sickness is not a gland problem or a hormonal imbalance. It is cancer, called racism – and, it is terminal. Now that the diagnosis is clear, the regimen for treatment can be formulated.

                As mentioned earlier, there is plenty of viable proof that racism is a constant aspect of daily life in America. Off the top of my head in my lifetime I can name several terrible examples of the impact and implications of racism: Trayvon Martin, Oscar Grant, Marissa Alexander, Hurricane Katrina, caricatures of President and First Lady Obama, caricatures of the Boston Bombers, black face costumes for Halloween 2013, disproportionate number of Black students placed in Alternative Schools or Special Education, the number of Black men and women in prison, the number of Black men and women in poverty and/or on welfare, the number of Black men, women, and children without healthcare, etc. I can honestly keep naming more, but the amazing thing is that anyone reading this list most likely already knows these events are racist – it is just a matter of dislodging oneself from the socially irresponsible location of de-sensitivity and/or privilege. And even if you didn’t know that the aforementioned people or events have to do with racism, the same course of action applies – dislodge yourself from the socially irresponsible location of de-sensitivity and/or privilege and WAKE UP!

                As I have engaged in dialogue with several of my friends about the year’s most recent racist happenings, most of my friends have lamented at how little they actually get upset anymore by the silly things racist people do. On Facebook I even saw one Black young man virtually giving his permission for White girls to dress in Black face costumes. I would love to complete a survey in which different racist pictures or media images are shown to Black people of all ages and have them rate how angry the picture makes them. I would like to conduct this research to observe how much Black people have become de-sensitized to racism. Conversely, I would like to conduct this same study on White people to see if a correlation between the level of White privilege, or the ability to ignore racism, and Black de-sensitivity, or the ability to become numb to racism, is evident and/or similar.

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[1] “Differential Equation,” October 28, 2013, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Differential_equation

[2] Derrick Bell, The Faces at the Bottom of the Well: The Permanence of Racism, (New York: BasicBooks, 1992), 9.

[3] Derrick Bell, The Faces at the Bottom of the Well: The Permanence of Racism, (New York: BasicBooks, 1992), 198.

[4] Derrick Bell, The Faces at the Bottom of the Well: The Permanence of Racism, (New York: BasicBooks, 1992), 198-199.

Scandal, The Black Church, and What (Still) Needs to Be ‘Handled’

I read a blog post recently, Why I Hate Scandal (and Other Negro Bed Wenches), spelling out one viewer’s disdain for the premise of the storyline surrounding Olivia Pope. The writer of this blog, whose penname is Grits Capone, basically provides a back-history of the Sally Hemmings/Thomas Jefferson affair saga and explicates the fact that Scandal looks to compromise the integrity of Black women by objectifying main character Olivia Pope into a role which is controversial due to her sexually adulterous affair with the very married, very White, and very powerful President of the United States.[1] I am not completely convinced of this blogger’s comparison of Olivia Pope to a Negro bed wench, yet I am neither unconcerned about the image the show projects into society as to the identity of Black women. Nonetheless, I offer the subject of Grits Capone’s personal blog not as a sacred text into the proceeding conversation, but rather as a precipice for euphemism. Imagine with me the White House as the typical racist-sexist-capitalist patriarchal society, the President as the personification of the Black Church, and Olivia Pope as the Black women who are members of that institution – you then find yourself in the reality of what it means to navigate the sexual-gender myths and socially constructed oppressions waiting in heat for the next person to seduce.

Let me be clear, I am not typecasting all Black women into the role and character of Olivia Pope or categorizing all Black Churches as the adulterous POTUS. However, I am lodging the argument that many Black women find themselves in a crisis between identity and integrity, love and labor at the hands of the male dominated Black Church. I believe that this is the anatomy Scandal writer, Shonda Rhimes, is speaking to – the societal rules that made the premise of Scandal provocative and available. I posit that this is precisely the dichotomy of the sexual-gender struggle as outlined by Marcia Riggs in her work Plenty Good Room: Women Versus Male Power in the Black Church. Shonda Rhimes does an eloquently masterful job at portraying the codes and structures that exist as the social construct for who the President should appear to be to the public and who Olivia Pope should NOT be. It is the same idea of social construction that leads to sexual-gender myths within the Black Church that exist as a means to dictate who Black men should appear to be and who Black women should not be. Marcia Riggs includes a poignant argument by bell hooks stating:

Once the [civil rights] struggle was perceived as won…then one assertion of our new freedom was to make mainstream socialization about gender roles the norm in black life. In the age of integration, black men asserted masculinist subjectivity not by vigilantly challenging white supremacy but by first insisting on the subordination of women, particularly black women. Suddenly, black men who would never have access to jobs within this capitalist framework that would allow them to provide for families could still feel themselves to be “men.” Manhood had been redefined. Manhood was not providing and protecting; it was proved by one’s capacity to coerce, control, dominate.[2]

It is along this vein that many Black women and Black men find their strained relations within the Black Church. According to Riggs, it is the racist-sexist-capitalist patriarchy that maligns the Church pews with dogmatic strictures forecasting Black men to perpetuate the subordination of Black women and compelling Black women to attempt the subversion of oppression.

In sum, the sexual-gender relations of African American women and men are mostly reactive rather than creative responses to racist-sexist-capitalist oppression under which they both labor. Indeed, their sexual-gender relations are “a kind of social reproductive shadow work” that sustains white racist-sexist-capitalist patriarchal norms for womanhood and manhood.[3]

From my vantage point, this reactive response that leads to ‘social reproductive shadow work’ is what many overlook in the argument over the acceptability of Scandal. The argument is not really about the sexual prowess of a Black woman subverting the power of the land, nor the exploitation of masculine ideals of power; rather, it is the reactive response to the oppressive structure set in place that necessitates such behavior on both parties that should be in question. This same misjudgment happens in the Black Church. Many people are stagnated in argument over the conduct of Black men or the conduct of Black women; however, it is imperative that we investigate “the way that social myths describe and prescribe reality.”[4]

                According to Marcia Y. Riggs, the reality is a “moral corruption...[that] refers to the inconsistency between the black church’s steadfast pursuit of justice with respect to racial and economic oppression while not pursuing sexual-gender justice, and consequently [the church] becom[es] a site of sexual-gender oppression.”[5] When it is understood that the Black Church is a place in which social myths are often times taught and tethered to its traditions, it is clear that its members, then, are left with little choice as to the parts they will play in its dramatic scenes. Not unlike the complexly woven script of Scandal, Riggs includes a critical assessment of the Black church saying:

…this man and this woman enact prescribed roles for being male and female – sexual-gender scripts – into which they have been socialized according to the values operative in this context. In the sexual-gender oppressive African American church, the values inconsistency – justice versus “control of women” – that stands at the heart of the church’s moral life becomes the driving force behind why male clergy and laywomen have relationships that deny their own self-actualization.[6]

To combat this moral corruption lurking in the Black Church, Riggs proposes the requisite to re-socialize and transform the sexual-gender morality held captive in the institution. Therefore, it is the moral imperative of the Black Church to invest in the “counter-socialization of African American women and men with respect to sexual-gender mythology and roles.”[7]

                While Marcia Riggs discusses the pivotal moments reached in sexual-gender relations dating back to as recently as 1999 and 2000 (during which a female minister “won a sexual harassment case against the African Methodist Episcopal Church” and the “same denomination elected its first female bishop”), I found that it was difficult to find empirical data that illustrates disparity between the sexual-gender relation in the Black Church.[8] While the General Commission on the Status and Role of Women reports that clergywomen earn 13 percent less than clergymen, this is inclusive of all ethnicities and does not speak to the more specific sexual-gender struggle on-going in the Black Church.[9] The woman who was elected first bishop of the AME Church, Bishop Vashti Murphy McKenzie, writes in her book Not Without A Struggle:

In spite of these achievements, patterns of institutional discrimination continue to limit women in ministry. Clergywomen still face an uphill battle for pulpit assignments. Resistance to change has become more subtle than overt. Distant locations and low wages continue to plague both women and young men in ministry.[10]

I believe that the lack of statistical data illustrating the sexual-gender issues in the Black Church is a direct reflection of how much opposition the institution lodges against working toward more inclusive change and how much more re-socialization of moral codes needs to be handled by its leadership and members.

                Plenty Good Room may as well have been my own personal diary written indelibly on the pages of my life as a Black woman preacher/minister. Even as I begin to consider where to break the placenta of the impregnated womb of my experience with discrimination within the Black Church, I can hear the voices of Black men and women of old begging me to hold off on delivering my truth. But it is time for the water to break, time for the truth to be told. Though some of Marcia Riggs’ scenarios could have been read (and dismissed) as fictional or hypothetical accounts that were only isolated instances or fabricated fables, they capture the story of my life in a very real and honest way. I remember when I first informed my very conservative Baptist Pastor of my calling into ministry. I didn’t think that this would come as much of a surprise to him – seeing as though I was Youth Director (Youth Minister in all actuality) and actively involved with the Young Adult ministry as well – but still, he looked back at me with such a sad bewilderment.  He answered me with a well-rehearsed soliloquy about the works of Apostle Paul and the proper role of a woman within the Church.  He brought out a King James Version Bible, and read all the Scriptures of, or relating to, the idea that women should not usurp authority over man. He did not leave one Scripture out, having to do with women, either. He read every single one. I suppose it wasn’t the content of the message he was relaying back to me; rather, it was the tone with which he felt compelled to correct me. Instead of hearing my heart and using spiritual discernment, he immediately stiff-armed me with an antiquated Baptist adopted doctrine. I felt so voiceless. Since when had accepting a calling been made to feel like blasphemy? And why were Paul’s words so much more important than those of Jesus?

                It quickly became apparent to me that even Jesus was preached into a realm of double standards. After all, the same man that had taught me how to know Jesus, love Jesus, and be like Jesus was the same man who was now telling me that Jesus did not speak to me or permit me to do the same things as men. How, then, would I love a Jesus who denies me? And, how would I ever be like a Jesus who rejects me?  Needless to say, when I answered my call to ministry it was anything but exhilarating. As evident in the meeting with my Pastor, I could tell he probably never wrestled with his theology on women in ministry. That much was an obvious observation with how stoically and quickly he attempted to abort the truth of my calling. Yet, in all honesty, I was no different than him.  I had been half-way avoiding, half-way aborting my calling for months. Not because I didn’t know Who was calling me. Not because I didn’t understand what the calling was. But, simply, because I had never wrestled with knowing that it was okay for me to accept a calling for myself.  The thought of it, accepting a calling as a woman, made me feel as though I was spiritually in error due to the tradition in which I had been raised my whole life. I think that this is the substance Marcia Riggs works so diligently to unmask in the Black Church – the “values inconsistency” that allows both men and women alike to continually limit the work of God by limiting one another. These self-imposed and opposite-gender imposed limitations continue to fain the forward progress of the Church because it postures itself as a part of the tradition. However, we must come to understand that it is not tradition at all, rather it is traditionalism. What is more is that it is "traditionalism that is the dead faith of the living, and tradition that this the living faith of the dead."[11]

                I have many other grievous personal accounts similar to the scenarios of discrimination written about in Plenty Good Room, but I am more convicted to share my hermeneutic of disclosure as a Black woman preacher and theologian-to-be. In Scandal, the President’s wife, Mellie, is antagonistic and intent on protecting Fitz and provoking Olivia Pope.  She reminds me, interestingly, of Peninnah as found in 1 Samuel chapter 1 of the Holy Bible. Peninnah, one of two wives of Elkanah, focused on provoking her sister-wife, Hannah, who had not been able to bear Elkanah any children. Referring back to the aforementioned euphemism of Scandal, if the President is the Black Church personified, then I like to view Mellie as the traditionalism, alive through both men and women, that attempts provoke and poke fun at women who have not been able to successfully bear forth ministry within the Black Church. Mellie experiences satisfaction knowing Olivia Pope cannot have what she really wants. Similarly, Peninnah relies on the fact that “Lord had closed [Hannah’s] womb”[12] much like oppression in the Black Church relies on the fact that women are not supposed to bring forth ministry. But here is where my hermeneutic of disclosure comes into play. Read this closely: Peninnah’s efforts of antagonism DO NOT WORK. Mellie’s efforts of antagonism do not work. It is already being shown in Scandal that Olivia Pope continues to defy Mellie’s attempts to provoke her. And, we see in the Bible that Hannah defies Peninnah’s pestilence by doing exactly what she said she could not.  Both Mellie and Peninah discount the fact that they are not in control. Likewise, those who continue to perpetuate harmful social myths and sexual-gender oppression within the Black Church are overlooking the fact that they, too, are not in control. Antagonism of God-ordained progress will never prosper in what it set out to do. It is this disclosure, understanding that my Peninnah (i.e. the sexist traditionalism of the Baptist Church) did not get to decide if I accepted my calling or not, that elevated me into doing exactly what sexual-gender oppression said I could not. Who is the judge? The judge is God. Why is He God? Because He decides who wins or loses. Not my opponent.[13] And certainly not my oppressor either.

                As I related earlier, there is not much accessible data in existence which corroborates the stories of Black women who are very much the Soles of the Black Church. I would be very interested to create a cadre of Black women in ministry and leadership in various locations within the mainline Black Church traditions who would conduct surveys into the perceptions and participation of Black women relating to sexual-gender oppression in the Church.  I would also like to conduct the same study as to the perceptions and participation of Black men relating to sexual-gender oppression in the Church. Approaching this topic from both genders would be helpful in appropriating how men and women view relations in the Black Church and in identifying how one another is complicit in the discrimination of certain parties.

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[1] Grits Capone, “Why I Hate Scandal (and Other Negro Bed Wenches),” May 23, 2013, http://deeperthangrits.com/2013/05/23/why-i-hate-scandal-and-other-negro-bed-wenches/

[2] Marcia Y. Riggs, Plenty Good Room: Women Versus Male Power in the Black Church, (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2008), 42.

[3] Riggs, 54.

[4] Riggs, 41.

[5] Riggs, 86.

[6] Riggs, 87.

[7] Riggs, 99.

[8] Riggs, 10.

[9] Kristen Knudson, “Women by the Numbers,” November 2011, http://www.gcsrw.org/WomenClergypersonsofColorEarnLess.aspx

[10] Vashti Murphy McKenzie, Not Without A Struggle: Leadership Development for African American Women in Ministry, (Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 2011), Location 1274.
[11] Jaroslav Pelikan, 1989 interview, http://harpers.org/archive/2008/12/hbc-90004089

[12] “1 Samuel 1 (New Revised Standard Version)” in Bible Gateway, http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20samuel%201&version=NRSV

[13] The Great Debaters, DVD, directed by Denzel Washington (2007; Metro Goldwyn Myer)

Little Black Boy Lost: Imitating Identity

Last week, I interviewed a very important person to speak to the formation of the Black male identity – my nine year old nephew. Though he is certainly not a Black man yet, his little brain is already forming around what he thinks a Black man should be. The interview went as follows:

Me: Nephew, do you know anything about Trayvon Martin?

Nephew: Yeah, I know who that is.

Me: Well, what happened to him?

Nephew: He got killed.

Me: How did he die, Nephew?

Nephew: Well, Trayvon wasn’t doing nothing but Zimmerman said it was self-defense. Trayvon only had some skittles and tea though.

Me: So, if Trayvon wasn’t doing anything, why did Zimmerman kill him?

Nephew: Because. He’s racist.

Me: What does racist mean?

Nephew: That means he don’t like Black people.

Me: Well, why are people racist?

Nephew: Because Black people are different than them.

Me: How many best friends do you have?

Nephew: I have 3. CJ, DJ, and Terrance.

Me: Are they Black?

Nephew: Yeah, they’re all Black.

Me: Do you have White friends too?

Nephew: Yeah, I do. At school, I do.

Me: Well, are you different from them?

Nephew: No. It’s not like that – it’s just that I do different things than them.

Me: Oh, okay – so we are different because we DO different things. So, what did Trayvon do that was different?

Nephew: It’s because he had on a hoodie.

Me: So, if Zimmerman had seen any other person, like a White person or someone that wasn’t Black, wearing a hoodie would he have shot them?

Nephew: No.

It is interesting to hear what my Nephew said. It is even more interesting to read between the lines of his very pre-adolescent mind. While my Nephew may not know what the word stereotype means, he seems to already know the basic premise of what it is. He assesses that racism is based on Black people being different yet appropriates the difference is tied to our actions. What is more, intriguing and also problematic, is that he rightly stated that any other person doing the same thing that Trayvon Martin did (i.e. wearing a hoodie) would not have been shot and killed. My Nephew realizes that certain bad things happen to Black boys who wear hoodies – but he seems to think that the hatred found in racism is tied to the hoodie and not the wearer. His beautiful innocence has not allowed him to connect the dots yet. But what happens when he does? When he realizes that the very being of Blackness may trump the things he does. What happens when he begins to modify his behavior because of his being? Who will he become as a Black man if stereotypes already infiltrate his pre-pubescent pores?

In the laws of physics, one refers to a frame of reference as a method to represent and measure properties of objects such as their position and orientation[1]. In a layperson perspective, a frame of reference provides one with a context, or basis, in which one can then make proper comparisons and conjectures about an observed object. In the laws of White men, a stereotype is swiftly elevated and permeated as a frame of reference by which all subsequent perceptions of Black men are achieved. From his frame of reference, rooted in White, male normativity, the White man can comfortably suggest the Black man’s position of perpetual inferiority and his orientation of engendered criminality. And, while the White man may rest, the Black man must wrestle – with who he is and who society has created him to be.  James Baldwin, in Notes of a Native Son, goes to great lengths to accurately describe this ethical tap dance all Black men must tirelessly perform.

The black man insists, by whatever means he finds at his disposal, that the white man cease to regard him as an exotic rarity and recognize him as a human being. This is a very charged and difficult moment, for there is a great deal of will power involved in the white man’s naïveté…the white man prefers to keep the black man at a certain human remove because it is easier for him thus to preserve his simplicity and avoid being called to account for crimes committed by his forefathers, or his neighbors[2].

And, this is where an American society’s frame of reference becomes the fiercely entangled framework where many a Black boy is heuristically lost and even more Black men are heavy laden with futile resistance begat by lifetimes of foundational reinforcement.

                Beyond the recent inquiry of my less than a decade old Nephew, I polled five more opinions of Black men, ages 22 to 35, from different walks of life. A junior high vice principal. An industrial engineer. A medical doctor/surgeon. And two fellow divinity school students. Out of these five men, all five men admitted to being a cognizant participant in what they called the game. The game is the White man’s world, which laid out like a chess board, must be navigated with cunning strategy and ingenuity by any Black man seeking to successfully provide, protect, and procreate for himself and his family. Baldwin affirms this Black-man-code, stating:

I knew very well what Americans saw when they looked at me and this allowed me to play endless and sinister variations on the role which they had assigned me; since I knew that it was, for them, of the utmost importance that they never be confronted with that, in their own personalities, made this role so necessary and gratifying to them, I knew that they could never call my hand or, indeed, afford to know what I was doing, so that I moved into every crucial situation with the deadly and rather desperate advantages of bitterly accumulated perception, of pride and contempt. This is an awful sword and shield to carry through the world, the discovery that, in the game I was playing, I did myself a violence of which the world, at its most ferocious, would scarcely have been capable[3]…

It is not that I was not aware of this game – as a Black woman, I must know it and engage in it as well – yet, I was keenly unaware of its stakes before talking to my male counterparts. I asked them how continuing to play this game and modify their behavior, based on stereotypes, to keep the White man comfortable was helping the Black man’s cause. They all, in a rather matter of fact manner, educated me in spelling out each of their individual causes to feed their families. In other words, half a century ago, Black men were united together fighting for the common goal of freedom and equality and they were willing to lose their lives or go to jail to achieve it. But, today, in 2013 there is no real unified effort within the Black community that would serve as the impetus for outright defiance of society’s rules because the cost would ultimately be the loss of his job and his livelihood. It seems clear to them that working subversively within the structures of the White man’s proscription is the best solution to gaining access to position where he would be powerful enough to effect change for other Black men and women.

            Maybe this is where political correctness within the Black community stems from - a desire to change, but never offend, the world from the inside out, rather than the outside in. But is this even attainable? It seems feasible. Obey the rules. Play the game. Work your way up. Once at the top, make decisions to uplift others who look like you. Yet, I must argue the truth stated by Audre Lorde which says, "...the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change[4]." In this effort to overcome racism and, simultaneously, understand his true self, the Black man is left with the perilous task which indicates he must come over who the White master's intended him to be and stand under the weight of a society that would rather he bow down.

It was his necessity, in the words of E. Franklin Frazier, to find a ‘motive for living under American culture or die.’ The identity of the American Negro comes out of this extreme situation, and the evolution of this extreme anxiety in the minds and the lives of his masters[5].

Therefore, it is the moral obligation of the Black man to divorce himself from the facade of imitation of identity and, instead, completely marry himself to the ferocious inspiration to identity.  This means that he must allow each of his experiences, whether bad or good, to work in and through him both restoratively and retroactively. For without willingness to undergo journey, there can be no rupture in the disk of a crooked, American vertebrae.

                James Baldwin, perhaps prophetically, speaks very candidly about an incident he had involving a White female waitress after being chased by an angry mob of White people. He ducked into a restaurant, only to be met with another refusal to be waited on because he was Black. He describes this instance as one in which he was ready to kill this woman to assuage the rage burning him inside:

…I had been ready to commit murder. I saw nothing very clearly but I did see this: that my life, my real life, was in danger, and not from anything other people might do but from the hatred I carried in my own heart[6].

Baldwin introduces rage as if it is another person who might be living inside of him, and, possibly, inside of every Black man. I think immediately to Aaron Alexis, the Black man who is also the recent Navy Yard shooter. Alexis claims to hold “the delusional belief that he was being controlled or influenced by extremely low frequency electromagnetic waves[7].” With mass shootings on the rise world-wide, observing the past 30 years of occurrences, approximately 67.5 percent included White male shooters. In addition, there is a strong correlation of mental health issues plaguing those responsible for mass shootings with approximately 63 percent having a history of a mental illness[8]. Yet, the Office of Minority Health has published some harrowing data about the demographics of African Americans, confirming that Black people living below the poverty level are three times more likely to report psychological distress, Black men and women are 20 percent more likely to report having serious psychological distress than White people, and the death rate from suicide for Black men was almost four times that of Black women in 2009[9]. I do not know Aaron Alexis. I have only ever seen him on the news or in the newspapers. But reading Notes of a Native Son begs me to ask if Mr. Alexis even knew himself? James Baldwin discusses his father’s death and is saddened because his Dad never knew that he was beautiful – he just knew that he was Black. Do Black men, who allow rage to engulf them, know who they really are or that they are lovely and beautiful, not lewd nor beastly. It is unfair to judge Aaron Alexis without knowing him, his identity, or his humanity. In the words of Baldwin, “thou knowest this man’s fall; but thou knowest not his wrassling[10].” I am forced to admit that just as my own brother could have been Trayvon Martin. He could have just as easily been Aaron Alexis.

An old hymn says, “There are some things I do not know. There are some places I may not go.” One thing my Dad always taught me was to never venture into a place you cannot handle. I do not know that I have ever really stopped to consider the peculiar, particularity the Black man finds himself smashed in limbo between; and, I don’t know if this is a place that I would want to handle.

At the root of the American Negro problem is the necessity of the American white man to find a way of living with the Negro in order to be able to live with himself… the white man’s motive was the protection of his identity; the black man was motivated by the need to establish his identity[11].

I would be interested to engage and research Black men (and women as well) who have lived, are living, or have a predisposition to mental illnesses. I have never flown into a rage or wanted to murder anyone or anything (besides insects and rodents), but there is a very present reality that the weight of the world can trigger an imbalance in the mind that the Black community has not been open enough to talk about nor treat effectively. I fear our Black men are becoming the disposable by-product of constricted demands and constant setbacks.

                As for me, I plan to translate what I have learned from the prolific James Baldwin into a personal space that includes the Black men who are in the sphere of my influence. It occurs to me that I have fallen victim to aiding and abetting the mass assassination of the Black man’s morale – maybe not intentionally, but rather ignorantly of how my voice, my desires, and my actions could be further alienating or beating my Black counterparts. It is my hope to affirm you and, to this end, I write this letter to all my sons, nephews, brothers, fathers, husbands, and friends:

Dear Black boy/man,

I realize that every day, when you leave home, you put on your armor.

To protect you. Shield you. And, perhaps, even keep you warm. The world is cold – you know this firsthand.

I know that America never meant to be your friend; and because of that, you have a hard time knowing how and when to trust, live, and be.

When you return home, I do not want you to feel as though it is necessary to leave those guards up. Those guards that you must employ while navigating the game in a White man’s land.

Instead, let down your guards. Your sarcastic tone. And your well-used defense mechanisms.

Here, at home, you are safe to cry. You are safe to laugh. You are safe to be scared, from time to time.

You may enter into my prayer closet with me. And pray to a God who understands you.

You can leave all your pieces, your pawns, your rooks, and your bishops, in the car.

Here, at home, we are the King and Queen, who answer to no one but the Divine.

I will never overlook you. Look through you. Or look upon you with hatred.

I will ever look to you.  Look for you. And look like you, fearfully and wonderfully made.

I will love you. I will challenge you. And, I will push you for better.

I will harness all the freedom I can muster. And liberate you from the outside world, if only just for a little while.

Most of all. Maybe…no certainly, I will carve out a space for you to simply be you. Black man. Forever powerful. Eternally beautiful. Into Paradise, everlasting.

Gratefully yours,

SRH

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[1] “Frame of reference,” September 16, 2013. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frame_of_reference

[2] James Baldwin, Notes of a Native Son. Revised ed. (Beacon Press, Boston: 2012), 169.

[3] James Baldwin, Notes of a Native Son. Revised ed. (Beacon Press, Boston: 2012), 147.

[4] Audre Lorde, “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House,” Sister Outsider, (Crossing Press, Berkeley: 1984), 112.

[5] James Baldwin, Notes of a Native Son. Revised ed. (Beacon Press, Boston: 2012), 173.

[6] James Baldwin, Notes of a Native Son. Revised ed. (Beacon Press, Boston: 2012), 99.

[7] Greg Botelho, Joe Sterling, “FBI: Navy Yard shooter ‘delusional,’ said ‘low frequency attacks’ drove him to kill,” September 26, 2013. http://www.cnn.com/2013/09/25/us/washington-navy-yard-investigation/index.html

[8] Philip Bump, “There Will Be Another Mass Shooting: This Is What the Data Tells Us About It,” September 17, 2013. http://www.theatlanticwire.com/politics/2013/09/there-will-be-another-mass-shooting/69508/

[9] “Mental Health and African Americans,” The Office of Minority Health. http://minorityhealth.hhs.gov/templates/content.aspx?lvl=3&lvlID=9&ID=6474

[10] James Baldwin, Notes of a Native Son. Revised ed. (Beacon Press, Boston: 2012), 107.

[11] James Baldwin, Notes of a Native Son. Revised ed. (Beacon Press, Boston: 2012), 176.

Treasure in Jars of Clay: The Unconquerable Soul of Black Women

Definition of Limit:

1.)    [noun] a point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.

2.)    [noun] a restriction on the size or amount of something permissible or possible.

3.)    [verb] set or serve as a limit to.

4.)    [math] a point or value that a sequence, function, or sum of a series can be made to approach progressively, until it is as close to the point or value as desired.

In noun and verb form, the concept of the word limit can be described briefly as a boundary meant to keep something contained. In Calculus, when a mathematical function cannot be solved directly, a limit is used to describe its solution. The limit simply refers to a place the function approaches. In some instances, a function approaches infinity – therefore, the equation is limitless. In other instances, limits can be found at a definite location bounding the function to a specific number. In others, the limit is deemed DNE, or does not exist. In a hierarchical viewpoint, the functions that are limitless seem undeservingly lucky. The functions that have a confined limit seem depressingly sad. And the functions that have limits that DNE seem defiantly indestructible. This is how one must view the plight of a Black woman in America. She sees the limitless nature of the White male institution – and he is undeservingly lucky. Wherever he wills to go, whoever he wills to be, whatever he wills to do, he is able to perform it with no sign of censure. She sees the confines of all other races and genders and she is saddened. She knows that a White woman’s world is more privileged than that of herself and her Black counterpart. But she is more deeply effected with the knowledge that she is on the bottom of the proverbial totem pole; for just under the White man is the White woman. Under her is the Black man. Lastly, under him is the Black woman. She is triangulated by ‘isms – by racism, by sexism, and by classism. Despite this reality of the limitations placed on her, ones that attempt to minimalize her personhood and forge a template of who she can be, she is expected to live and move and have her being as the caretaker of Black culture and the nurturer of Black traditions while never making her White and Black constituents uncomfortable at her presence.

The Black woman’s moral situation, as Katie G. Cannon refers to it in her work Black Womanist Ethics, is a result of several factors. The institution of slavery had already stripped her of her family, diminished her to the role of ‘brood-sow,’ violently assaulted her physically and sexually, and relegated her to not only working in the field with other Black males but also working as a domestic inside the houses of her White owner. In the antebellum period, she then became further imperiled to subhuman treatment.

The theme of objectification inherent in the domestic servitude of the Black woman continued to permeate her life. Bereft of formal education and advanced skills, the Black woman as a domestic worker was usually at the white employer’s mercy. Her employment arrangements had few, if any, demands that white people were obligated to meet… Sexual harassment became the women under slavery. As a vestige of slavery, white male heads of households assumed the sexual accessibility of the female domestic worker[1].

The Black woman, even after slavery had ended, was left in a hopeless, barren place – in which she was still forced to live and bring forth life. She was never wanted, but always needed. She was a child violently reprimanded when she spoke for herself, yet she was a woman when a man wanted to violate her body with his sex. She fought to live while living to fight. The weight of the Black woman’s burden had cast an imprint upon her that left an ungodly mark on her body and disfigured her to the root of her soul.

How does one live when given a death sentence? Is there any hope of living within the lifetime limits placed upon a life that cannot even be classified as one’s own? Can there be any navigation between the wiles of triple discrimination – racism, sexism, and classism – by the Black woman? It is the Black woman’s prerogative to answer these existential questions compliantly in the negative. Then, she could learn to merely exist in a world that despises her and never say a mumbling word. However, that would essentially feature the Black woman as a major role in her own dramatic demise. Yet, if she dares to answer these questions defiantly in the affirmative, then she must piece together her own format for how to transcend a proscribed life of limitation. It is that Black woman’s supreme goal to successfully find a function in her life that affirms that the limit society has tried to force upon her simply does not exist, or DNE. It is her duty to see to it that she makes a name and a way of life for herself despite of her diverse trials. Though “[she is] afflicted in every way, but not crushed; [she is] perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed[2]. She must find the unmitigated gall to live life in the folds of an anyway mindset, not dependent on submission to the status quo.

For this Black woman, she who is bludgeoned yet unbowed, she must construct an ethic that would empower her in the midst of struggle, energize her despite the truth of lack, and ennoble her with an inner truth that no man could put asunder. Yet, an authentic self-actualization that exists above and outside the White man’s gaze is more than a protracted process. Frankly, without a methodology or model, the possibility for success is grim. In Alice Walker’s The Color Purple, Mister strips main character Celie of her beloved sister Nettie. Celie has birthed two children, fathered by her own step-father, who are swiftly taken away from her. Her mother dead, Nettie is the only symbol of love and sanity that Celie has ever known. As she comes to the realization that she must let Nettie go, Celie screams out, “write! Write!” Nettie answers, “nothin’ but death can keep me from it!” Alice Walker points to the life-saving value found in the power of a Black woman’s pen.

Black women have used their creativity to carve out “living space” within the intricate web of multilayered oppression. From the beginning, they had to contend with the ethical ambiguity of racism, sexism and other sources of fragmentation in this acclaimed land of freedom, justice and equality. The Black woman’s literary tradition delineates many ways that ordinary Black women have fashioned value patterns and ethical procedures in their own terms, as well as mastering, transcending, radicalizing and sometimes destroying pervasive, negative orientations imposed by the mores of the larger society[3].

A Black woman must have a canon of her own that will instruct and inspire her with permission to be a part of a world that loves, values, and cherishes her body, soul, and mind even though everything surrounding her tells her that her worth is menial at best.

The triple standard that Black women face has staggering implications with notable footprints left in the last several years (on top of hundreds of years of inhumane treatment). For instance, in 2007 Don Imus nationally declared the Rutgers University Women’s Basketball team, comprised of mostly Black women, as “nappy headed hoes.” He goes on to say that the team they played against, University of Tennessee, were all cute – but the Rutgers girls were just ugly[4]. To make matters far worse, a very popular Black comedian D. L. Hughley appeared on Jay Leno’s show weeks later and sides WITH Don Imus saying that though the women may not have been hoes, they were still “nappy headed” and some of “ugliest women [he’s] ever seen in [his] whole life[5].” In the recent and highly publicized Trayvon Martin case, the media, America, and the Black community had a rouse blaspheming the name of Rachel Jeantel. While she was not on trial, the judgment of her character was nothing short of the blatantly critical ridicule that Anita Hill faced back in the 1990s when she testified against Clarence Thomas in a sexual harassment case. In August of 2013, buzzworthy rapper Juicy J went on the record as publicly offering (and later revoking) a $50,000 scholarship to the “best chick who can twerk[6].” These examples are more publicized because of the nature in which they surfaced – via mass media. However, these examples are mere minutia in comparison to what lies beneath the media frenzy. Black women are still suffering in substandard conditions, where nearly 26% are living at the poverty rate. In addition, Black women continue to make only 64 cents to the White man’s dollar according to the National Women’s Law Center[7]. According to research conducted by the Sentencing Project in 2005, Black women are 3 times more likely to go to jail or prison than White women[8]. This is compared to data found in the National Survey of Family Growth completed in 2012 in which 51% of White women were married versus only 26% of Black women[9]. There is no need for the burden of proof in the plight of Black women because the writing is on the wall. One in four Black women are living in poverty. Out of four Black women, only one is getting married. Black women are three times more likely to be incarcerated than their White counterparts. And Black women are earning two-thirds the salary that White men make. Black women are the diminished because of appearance. Black women are the butt of jokes. Black women are smeared in a national campaign of defamation.

Reflecting retrospectively, it occurs to me now that I never played by the rules as a little girl, teenager, or young adult. I consistently broke them all the time. Not in a rebellious way, rather it was very subversive. For instance, the way my Mother loathed the fact that I always played blacktop basketball with the boys. I played with girls too, but Mama wanted me to be dainty and delicate. I wanted to be dangerous on the court (a skill which I still have), so I played with boys anyway. Or the way that my 3^rd grade teacher, Mrs. Greene, told me that I would never be able to spell the word ‘tomorrow’ because I missed it on a spelling test. She was the same teacher that never gave me any excellent marks on my report card and continually complained that I was over-talkative and non-engaged in learning. She tried to give me a death sentence and steal my God given joy. Yet, I ended up doing exceptionally well the next year of elementary school anyway and earning advanced placement standing. Or when people tried to tell me to enter into college with an open mind about my major (my grandparents and parents were both educators) because they thought engineering would be very rigorous, I majored in engineering anyway. Or when my undergraduate engineering advisor adamantly told me that graduate school would not be a feasible option for me, seeing that I had a below stellar GPA – I received full funding and a fellowship/stipend and WENT TO GRADUATE SCHOOL FOR ROBOTICS ANYWAY. My whole life as a Black woman had and has always been a series of ‘anyway’s’.

But, what about when there is no anyway? Anyway amounts to DNE in your world because there is nobody to show you the way to anyway? Maybe your mother is MTV jams. Maybe your teacher is Real Housewives of Atlanta. Or maybe you don’t have a place to even lay your head, let alone watch a television series. How does an anyway mentality become a lifestyle when the learning curve is invisible? In my home, my Mother raised my Brother and me as a single parent for quite some time. She worked two jobs, kept a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, clothes on our backs, and educated us like nobody’s business. She managed to have us in church every Wednesday and Sunday and involved us into her non-profit work in providing resources for high-risk and impoverished youth. Those kids that I would see – when we went to deliver them Christmas presents (some of which were our own hand-me-downs) – I could see the look in their eye of malnourishment. It wasn’t that they weren’t eating, even though they probably only ate once at school. It was more that they lacked fulfillment in their little souls. I never noticed it then, but I know now why Mama tried so hard to affirm us, to affirm me.  She never wanted us to be a statistic when society said we were doomed to fail. And, she never wanted me, as her only daughter, to feel empty because she was a struggling single mother. Instead, she wanted me to feel empowered because she was a struggling single mother. So, she acknowledged the bold and brilliant woman in me every day. Whether it was her coming in my room to kiss me, say I love you, and put me to bed every night. Or how she never missed a game – never, not one. Even to this very day, she still calls to tell me she’s very proud of me and encourage me to keep going when school or work gets heavy. She mothered me and raised me with continual words of affirmation. That is the key to my anyway.

As I alluded to this fact earlier, I know every little girl does not grow up with a caring mother, or motherly figure, that can call out the womanist in her. A few years ago, I read the book The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. He outlines five different ways to give and receive love. For me, the best way of understanding love is with Words of Affirmation which can be attributed to my upbringing. I would be interested to perform a case study on the effects of love languages in young adolescent females to see how they cope with or without them in their environment. When Celie finally finds her voice after reading the letters from Nettie that Mister hid away for so many years, she talks about how vastly painful life was without the one person who truly loved her. There are so many young Black girls out there who are lost simply because they have no contact with anyone who truly loves them. They are treasure in jars of clay. They are unconquerable souls. They can make a world where limits do not exist. But someone has to tell them that. And that someone is she who has already learned it for herself.

I’m poor. Black. I may even be ugly. But, dear God – I’m here. I’m here.

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[1] Katie G. Cannon, Black Womanist Ethics (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2006), 47.

[2] 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 (New Revised Standard Version).

[3] Katie G. Cannon, Black Womanist Ethics (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2006), 76.

[4] “Don Imus and Nappy Headed Hos,” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RF9BjB7Bzr0

[5] “DL Hughley ATTACKS Rutgers Women,” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIqD1GCvedw

[6] “Rapper Juicy J offers, then revokes, 50k twerk scholarship,” August 22, 2013 http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/juicy-j-offers-then-revokes-50-000-twerk-scholarship-20130822

[7] “Women’s poverty rate stabilizes, remains historically high,” September 12, 2012 http://www.nwlc.org/press-release/women%E2%80%99s-poverty-rate-stabilizes-remains-historically-high

[8] “Women in the Criminal Justice System, “ May 2007 http://www.sentencingproject.org/doc/publications/womenincj_total.pdf

[9] “Marriage Statistics,” September 2012, http://www.statisticbrain.com/marriage-statistics/