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.