Category — Being black in America

OCCUPY POVERTY (OP) joins together with Del Paso Heights residents upset with what they are calling “unfair treatment” in the predominately black, low income neighborhood in Sacramento, California. And those residents have decided to organize and fight back. The Del Paso Heights Community Association consists primarily of parents who are standing up for their security against the campus police department, and for the education of their children by the Twin Rivers Unified School District.

The impetus for this activity began when a school district police officer went off campus to make a traffic stop against Tyrone Smith. The officer and Smith engaged in a foot race and Smith was subsequently charged with shooting the officer during the chase. The officer is expected to recover from his wounds, but Smith died a short while later in police custody.

Smith’s death initiated an investigation into the jurisdictions and parameters of campus police. It was during this investigation that a tee shirt designed and sold by the Twin Rivers Police Department was discovered. The tee shirt depicts a child behind bars with the message: “You raise them. We cage them.” This obviously contemptuous message has offended and infuriated parents and spurred them into action.

Organizers of the Del Paso Heights Community Association are therefore registering voters to remove the current school board because parents are upset about the failure of their children in Twin Rivers Schools. According to data reportedly provided by Superintendent Frank Porter, it will take black children “twenty years to close the achievement gap.”

OCCUPY POVERTY stands in support of the parents and their determination to bring better safety and education to their community for the benefit of their children.

As I have never left the U.S., my impression of life in other countries is very limited when it comes to their lifestyles. But having lived in America for nearly 68 years, I have a pretty good take on life here. Not only do I have time as a consideration, but experience, observation and being female, black and low income gives me a familiar perspective with millions of others. These characteristics gives both men and women like me a perception that is perhaps quite different from the one most people who have not been to America think about our country.

The primary misconception, perhaps, is that all Americans have money. That belief is a real illusion. We do not all have money, although most Americans are able to live moderate lives with the money that we have. Nearly everyone has some sort of indoor plumbing and bathroom facility, clean water, electricity to run their refrigerator to keep their food from spoiling, some type of heat and stove for cooking, facilities to wash their clothing and public transportation.

Health care is available for emergencies, but general health concerns are often not addressed without private insurance. The exception is for children where there are entire hospitals set up for their care. Seniors and disabled fare a little better with most of their medical needs being provided at low or no cost, particularly if they are retired and have paid into our retirement system.

Living as a low-income person in a country considered one of the richest in the world takes a certain mindset and determination. Seeing wealth all around and not being able to partake in it can be very frustrating. It is human nature to desire beautiful things and to want more. However, because there are so many others who are living on the same level, after awhile you realize that it is not personal, but just an accident of birth.

The other particular consequence of being a minority, whether rich or poor, can be very real and very personal. That’s where the illusion of America’s greatness begins to break down. There is still great discrimination and injustice. Not only between the races, but also between the classes. Attitudes, preferences, and beliefs are still further grounds for bias and prejudice.

Nevertheless, with all the differences that it takes to make up the United States of America, as a citizen I love my country and its people. We sometimes fight among ourselves, like all families do, but when one of us is harmed or taken we rally together to return that one to our bosom. I am sure that everyone, wherever you live, can and should speak of your place of birth as I do mine. All I can say is that it ain’t perfect, but it’s home.

In a series of articles I have written for this blog, I focused on the intolerance perpetrated by U.S. blacks toward other U.S. blacks. But the subject of this article has gone around in my mind like bits of fabric loosely sewn together with threads of memory and heartache. So rather than continue my own tirade regarding black intolerance, I decided to flip the script and discuss another valid point. Instead of focusing on the pieces, why not reflect on the whole?

Research for this project contained a patchwork of discussions with peers, reading material provided by “experts” and statistics about the supposed division of black people which serve to stir up much debate. Controversy has produced a tattered remnant with uneven edges and puckered seams; an unattractive and uncomfortable quilt whose rhetorical shape does not resemble the blanket which enfolds us all. They do not speak the language of truth that despite our differences we are all black, therefore, we are one.

First, to those who are not black descendants of slave forefathers, or might not have been born in the U.S., I believe I can unequivocally say that there are few blacks in America who are not proud to be black. Whether we are accused of “acting white,“ dye our hair blond, talk “proper” or only date members of other ethnic groups, we love, and are proud of being black.

Second, we recognize each other for the special-ness that we share.  After slavery was abolished in the 1860s, we formed intact communities and lived among those like ourselves. Because of segregation and Jim Crow laws, we were generally separated from white Americans because of  the color of our skin.

The civil rights movement of the 1960s brought the illegality of our separateness to the forefront of the world’s attention, and new laws allowed for desegregation and integration. For many, the opportunity to relocate allowed more urbane blacks who could afford it to move beyond our communities into new neighborhoods. So, we were again separated except it was from our own people due to differences in economics, education and social skills. That separation marked the beginning of the situation we find ourselves in today.

Prior to the 1960, there were variations in education and economic classes among blacks, the same as in other groups. But the one thing that most of Americans, black and white, had in common was their social skills. We all knew “please,” “thank you,” “sir,” and “’mam.” Direction, support and aptitude were the most determining factors as into which class blacks would fall.

As the years have gone by and the populations of both those who left and those who remained behind have grown, the inequality between the two has come more forcefully to the attention of those who made it out. They are looking back, seeing their brothers and sisters lagging behind, and wondering what to do about it.

The success of many who have risen from the ranks has shown such outstanding achievement, the question of why we all have not made it has come to the forefront of discussion. I believe the reason is that there is not enough directional and economic resources available, and not for a lack of inspiration, imagination or ingenuity. There are many local people making and plying goods and services, some legitimate, some not.

The crux of this problem has been how we can focus assistance on blacks without appearing bias toward other groups, as there is a definite desire to help. We see it in the flourish of entertainers and others aiding blacks in African nations rather than at home, because it was viewed as the job of government or churches to provide for the needs of lower income Americans, and those entitlements and charities continue to some extent.

However, in the present economy, black culture needs are not being addressed because items that had a slight resemblance to ridicule or stereotyping was made “politically incorrect” in 1965. That ban on such items, even those created by blacks,  has attributed to their being shunning by other blacks. So the need to support each other has created a microcosm of human to human assistance that is existing to the extreme in the macrocosm of need in the world.

As before, blacks helping their neighbors on the other side of town would serve as an example to the world of raising up a culture from its lower status. The opportunities are plentiful as there are many black artists, writers, inventors and designers, dreamers of great dreams, who could use financial backing, direction and support. To be able to move their products and services to the mainstream would allow them to return the favor and help those organizations struggling to educate, feed and clothe others. The trend could continue until the majority of, not only blacks, but all Americans are achieving on the level of which we are capable.

There are many who are capable and desiring to move beyond their undeveloped state to be able to realize the American dream. But without help, their dreams will not be realized. Recognizing that we are one, our blackness should serve as the cover big enough to enfold our discomfort and discontent, as we bind the edges with the distinctive fabrics that represent our unique and varied features.

No longer do we have to hand stitch our identity with the tattered rags and scraps left over from cloaks of servitude and slavery, or sew them together with worn and tired fingers blistered from the drudgery of picking cotton. Now we can construct a quality cover sewn with the finest needles and thread on a marvelous machine stitched by the efforts of the hearts of brotherhood.

It is time for black people to wrap ourselves warmly in the mantle of our blackness, proudly edged with the many colors of our attitudes, quality of our souls and feel of our culture. As James Brown penned so long ago and we heartily sang to help us survive the hostilities of the civil rights movement, we should pick up the song again and sing with spirit and dignity, “I’m black and I’m proud.”

I am proud to be me, proud that as a people we have overcome tremendous odds and prospered and proud that we can finally come to terms with the truth that has always existed from arrival in this country. We were brought here with one identity…we were black. That identity still exists today. We are an American group among many American groups, and in both cases, there’s no disputing the  fact that we are one.

Song by Frankie Beverly and Maze.

When I awoke this morning, I had the words of my title in mind, but I was remembering an old Negro spiritual we used to sing in church. “How I got over. How I got over. My soul looks back and wonders, how I got over.” I remember my mother, grandmother and others singing it with gusto, thanking God for helping them to “make it through.” Then I typed in the words on YouTube, and found this song by The Roots, and it changed my whole attitude.

Rather than praise and worship, the words, music and images took my heart and mind into a totally different mood of distress, despair and disturbance. Tears began to flow, and my heart began to ache. For I remember, can almost smell and feel, the sensations of the people portrayed in the video; because it wasn’t too long ago that their plight was my own, and it hit too close to home.

I sit now, at my computer, with my heater going full blast in my cozy third-floor apartment overlooking a majestic oak tree, while the capitol building of the state of California is at the end of my block. There are limos, Lamborghini-es, and other luxury cars nightly pulling up to the restaurants, coffee houses and cafes that line my street.

Happy people sitting outside having lunch, dinner or just over coffee fill the air with their laughter and content. They smile and some even nod as I pass, thinking and accepting me as one of them, an equal. But I wonder what they would think about me if they knew that it wasn’t too long ago that I was homeless, living in a shelter with my two kids…friendless and alone? Would their looks be diverted away from me?

This is not the way I envisioned my day going when I woke up full of gratitude and rejoicing this morning. I had no intention of spending my morning revisiting an episode in my life that I seldom visit anymore. Not that I am trying to forget it, because I think it plays a significant part in my current sense of empathy. But today was not going to be one of those days when it would come back to me with such force, with a video as stark evidence that what happened then was real to me, just as now it’s very real to others.

But now that I think of it, both the rejoicing and the pain belong to me. I embrace them as value which has been added to my life. For without the pain there would be no joy. I would not know that it is possible to overcome and not be genuine in sharing that hopeful message with others. I would also not be able to serve as an example to those who think themselves above and beyond the possibilities of becoming like their less fortunate neighbors. It can happen to anyone.

There is a message for all of us in this, I think. For me, reminiscing keeps me grounded. For those who are struggling, I wish them God’s best. For those who are reading this, I hope it stirs something in you to reach out to even one in whatever way you can to those disenfranchised by the state of their birth or whatever life has thrown their way. A simple smile of encouragement will go a long way, and with just a little help one day those who are suffering won’t have to wonder how they got over, they will know.

Many times in our lives, occasion to be conflicted arise. I am experiencing one of those occasions, because of some of the methods proposed to be used in the push in America to reform our school system. Test scores have shown that many of our students are failing or barely holding on, and will be unable to compete with others in the global marketplace. Many young people have given up and settled for or given in to lives of idleness, dependence on government handouts, and/or criminal activity.

Students from every ethnic group are included, but my observation is focused on low income youth, particularly black or African-American. Being black myself draws my attention, but my concern is for all children, and how to address this problem is where my conflict lies.

Education reform extends all the way to the White House with President Obama being actively involved. Along with government, many very wealthy individuals, like Bill Gates, are contributing millions of dollars. Unfortunately, with all the funds being made available, many objectionable concepts of how to provide a “quality” education for our students is being tried and promoted, especially the idea of exclusionary charter schools.

Charter schools are not a new idea, having been used by many different organizations, such as religious groups, to promote their ideology as well as educate their members. This scary culturally controlled character seems to be what is also being offered presently by private organizations in order to obtain and maintain funding.

To insure that their students display the highest achievements, certain kids with disabilities, including learning, are being excluded and expelled by some charter schools. There are also schools which intend to segregate poor, black children from other children in order to change their “culture,” meaning their ways of wearing certain hair styles and clothing, for example. These types of selective schools are the ones which are causing me the most concern and conflict.

Since the civil rights movement in the 60s, we as a nation have fought, and some have died, to allow children of all ethnicities to attend school together in an integrated environment. Yet we know that even under the best circumstances racism still flourishes. Also, rampant bullying by all groups has recently flared which has caused the suicidal death of a number of children.

These conditions of separating children by ethnicity, social status, and physical or mental ability, which will set them apart from their peers, can only cause a backlash. Low self-esteem, further acting out, withdrawal, mistrust, anger, and possibly violence, both on the part of those students displaced and seemingly rejected, as well as the development of superior attitudes by those who are allowed to attend other schools can and will result.

My conflict is in wanting a “quality” education for black children, and disabled children, but not at the expense of their cultural identity, acceptance or sense of belonging. None of us wants to feel set apart. Regardless of our differences and/or abilities, we all want the to be loved and respected for our humanity, for the life that flows through us. How can taking children back to a way which we found wrong and wanting in the past be thought to be beneficial in the present? And how will the experience of separation and rejection affect these children in the future?

Since the beginning of man‘s history, humans have struggled with division and control of one group over the other. It has always ended in tragedy, and will continue to do so. Therefore, to solve a conflict, the decision must be made for the greater good, and not the most money.

To expect a different outcome from repeating a misjudgment is insane. So, now that the occasion to change direction in educating children has presented itself, there should be no conflict of how to guarantee that all our children get the best chance at a “quality” education. I believe that open enrollment in charter schools is a viable solution, as long as we alter our ways of doing and thinking, because going back is not a forward move.

In a recent article appearing in the Sacramento Bee, dated October 10, 2010, a proposal to remove black children from traditional integrated schools and place them in segregated charter schools has been suggested. This proposal has been made by a black person, Margaret Fortune, who has operated a similar school in Sacramento.

Ms. Fortune suggests that up to 5,000 black children, who are also considered low-income, and beginning with K thru 3rd graders, would benefit from receiving an education in a school set apart from their peers of the same age. To me, this is absurd as this nation has and continues to fight long and hard to diminish and extinguish the ugliness of segregation in all of its stigmatizing forms, in all systems of our society.

To consider returning to the dysfunctional method of segregation in our system of education is not only frightful but downright bizarre. Poor, black children already suffer from two strikes against them. To put them in a situation which sets them apart will not only affect their self-esteem, but may also cause them to suffer the pain of being stigmatized for not attending an integrated school with other children who are different from them.

A great part of one’s education, particularly as access to the global community is opening up to anyone who may chose to explore it, is to be socialized to understand, tolerate and accept the differences between us. How can that be accomplished when one begins their educational experience with only faces of one’s own kind? How can one perceive a different reflection of how the world is made up if one only sees one image, the same as oneself ?

I can understand the intent of providing a more intense educational experience for children, but the effort should be open to all children, not focused on any particular ethnic group. As for the children being low-income, there are low-income children in every ethnic group who need and require a quality education. For a black person to focus this attempt to obtain funding for charter schools by selling out black children is shameful.

If tax-payer money is used to fund charter schools, representative children from every group should be represented. Placing black children in segregated schools is a backward move and should not be considered as being in the best interest of those children.

http://www.sacbee.com/2010/10/10/3093039/former-st-hope-leader-begins-push.html

Since writing my blogs, although I’ve written over 40 articles, the ones which get the most comments have had class or race as subjects. These comments come from around the world, so I can assume that people from foreign lands are interested in the social situation in the U.S., particularly from the perspective of a black person. Therefore, I offer this as speaking from my heart about my feelings of being an African-American.

I was born in 1943 in a place called Shreveport, Louisiana, which is one of the southern states. These were the primary states which blatantly carried on slavery, although racism existed and still exists today throughout the U.S. My maternal grandfather and grandmother were born on plantations, and my paternal grandmother conceived my father with her white plantation owner.

My parents were very subservient to whites as I recall as a child, which angered me because my siblings and I attended a Catholic school and had been told by the “white” nuns that we were all created equal. I wholehearted took that information as factual and apparently so did my older sister and brother. Although we observed the “whites only” signs on water fountains and knew “our place” in other areas of interactions with whites, our hesitancy to totally bow to the status quo made my father decide to relocate us to California after I graduated from 8th grade.

Race and race relations were not discussed in our home, so I had no yardstick to measure my parents’ feelings. Whatever they, our extended family, teachers and neighbors truly felt about segregation was kept pretty close to private conversations between adults, and we children were sheltered from their discussions. It was not until I was a young married woman watching the flames of riots in our San Francisco neighborhood and the horrors of inhumane treatment during the civil rights movement of the 60s did I fully realize the extent of what was happening to my people.

The first time I saw a cotton field, in 2003; I broke down and cried to think how long and arduous the journey had been for all of us who are descendents of slavery. We have accomplished many great things and continue to do so today despite overwhelming challenges. All Americans are aware that the wounds of slavery have scabbed over, but in many instances, still fester. Nevertheless, we love our country.

As a black person, African-American, American citizen, I am grateful for my parents and teachers who ensured that I would be able to live with dignity and have no animosity toward those alive today who reap the benefit of my ancestors sweat and tears, but who accept the responsibility to help maintain the freedom which we all crave. It is a tightrope stretched between both races that we walk in the U.S. But there are humane Americans on both ends of the rope which help to keep all of us in balance, even those who want to see us tumble.

Recently I watched the movie, Diary of a Tired Black Man, which was written, produced, and directed by Tim Alexander. In the movie it seemed that every reason for the black woman being angry was given. There were numerous statements by both men and women of various ages and statuses giving their opinions as to the causes of the “Angry Black Woman Syndrome.” Some of them made sense, but some were just guys and gals venting.

For example, the majority of both sexes thought it was the lack of a father figure in the home or in the young girl’s life that was the cause. For without a male’s expression of love, the girl would grow up to seek love in all the wrong places and didn’t know what to expect from a man. Therefore, when her relationship went sour, she became angry.

Another source of a black woman’s anger was purported to be listening too much to other female relatives or girl friends. Women were portrayed as sitting around being brainwashed about the limitations and downfall of men, and sharing in the anger of their peers. According to the men, male bashing was a primary pastime among women, and some of the women agreed that they traveled in “groups” to keep men at bay.

Other reasons included the idea that women just didn’t know what they wanted; or don‘t know how to “pick“ a good man. Choosing a loser was a source of her anger, and a much discussed thought was when women get a good man, they treat him with such disrespect and disdain until he eventually becomes turned off, resentful or even violent because of “her” behavior, and his reactions makes her angry.

“The woman doesn’t know her place as a man’s helper according to the Bible,” was another man’s reason. While the majority of men agreed that they expected women to “be available” mentally, emotionally and especially physically whenever her man needs her. It is her “job.”

As I watched and waited for the introduction of what I believe is a primary reason most black women are angry, there was only one small segment in the movie that dealt with infidelity. In the scene, three of the main character’s friends were chiding and encouraging him to seek comfort in the arms of another woman. From their perspective, it was the expected behavior of a “real man,” even if he was someone’s husband or significant other.

This lack of significant attention shown to infidelity shows how unimportant men, especially Mr. Alexander, thinks infidelity is to the attitude and behavior of women. I imagine that if women were polled, not only black women, but a cross section of all women who are or have been in relationships with men, infidelity would be at or close to the top of the list of causes for their anger. Men seem to have no idea what a turn-off, anger-provoking, disgusting feeling women get toward men who cheat on them.

To say that it is a man’s nature, or act as if it is no big deal, or expect forgiveness and understanding is an insult to a woman’s sensibilities. We may forgive the indiscretion, and remain and move forward in the relationship, but we never forget the hurt, disrespect or mental image of our man rutting in the arms of another woman. Mr. Alexander’s movie failed to discover, or even discuss with women, one true reason for why the angry black woman is angry.

I think men know why women are angry, but they continue to try and find reasons to take the light off themselves and shine it on us. And their disregard for our feelings about their actions is another reason which makes and keeps women angry…very angry.

http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/06/24/how-do-politicians-survive-sex-scandals/

In celebration of Juneteenth, I wish I had the ability to express the wave of powerful emotions that washed over me and brought scalding tears to my eyes when I thought about writing this article. My mind flashed on my grandmother who was born in 1865, the year the slaves were “freed,” wearing her long white apron in Louisiana. I saw the fields of cotton my fiance took me to see in 2003 in California because I had never seen similar places down south where my people had labored during slavery.

In my mind’s eye I saw pictures of my black sisters and brothers being attacked with water hoses, dogs, Billy clubs and savagery. Then like fast forward, my mind brought me back to sitting in my bed and a blank sheet of paper, but the pain lingered.

I am a person who does not like black rhetoric, in fact I hate it; particularly when we linger and wallow in our ex-slave misery, using it as an excuse not to perform on the level we are capable of; we meaning black folks. But then I remember those who were left behind when the flight to white neighborhoods and a “better life” lured away our teachers, doctors, business people, ministers, and others of higher status and education after civil rights laws were mandated.

I don’t blame them. When my ex-husband and I bought our first home in 1976, it was in a new development with only one other black family. So I can relate to the desire to live the “American dream,” but what about all those who couldn’t leave and escape their stifling environment? What about all those who had menial jobs, but were decent, God-fearing folks who marched, and were beaten and spat on, but were left behind?

They are those on whose shoulders and graves so many of us black folks stand on today, and the generations they spawned are the people we now call the black Underclass. They are that group of low-income, barely educated, unsophisticated, crude people that many of us now avert our eyes from rather than notice or acknowledge. The ones many blacks and others from various ethnic groups are employed to serve because we are teachers, social workers, government employees, preachers, doctors, lawyers, police officers, prison staff, counselors, etc. etc. They are also the ones none of us can seem to accept as fellow human beings. We denigrate them to cases and files, numbers without faces or souls, but characters who are certainly not like us.

To proper society the Underclass are welfare mothers, drug-addicted or incarcerated or absent fathers, low-lifers, irresponsible, criminal, stupid, crazy, less-than-human wastes of time. And we wonder where they came from, or call them “refugees” as they were labeled in New Orleans after Katrina. We can take their children because they are poor and give them to others without a look back or a thought about their feelings. We can make them wait for hours while we take breaks or talk on the phone, thinking they have nothing else to do, and they need us to give them equity of food, clothing and shelter.

But the Underclass are none of these things, and without them many of us wouldn’t have jobs, or be able to live in our comfort zones. But primarily, we should consider that they are the products of the same stock of people from which many of us have come. They are the descendants of the bridges over which many of us have crossed, and they only want what we all want…to be loved and understood. But primarily, we should consider that they are the offspring of the people who were simply left behind.

The type of breast cancer I have is a rare form contributed to by excess estrogen. According to my surgeon who diagnosed the cancer, the bones also produce estrogen, so the medicine they are giving me to reduce the estrogen feeding the cancer could also possibly cause osteoporosis, which is why he tested me for the problem, but we found out I already have it.

As a result, I will need to take calcium and vitamin D to build up my bones to avoid the possibility of fractures from the slightest trip or fall. Like most black people, I remember being told we have heavier or thicker bones than other ethnic groups, but regardless of that being the case, we are in need of more attention to our skeletal structure than we previously have been led to think.

Women over 40 should have a Dexa scan for bone density to be sure that they do not require a boost in their calcium intake, along with a mammogram to test for breast cancer (which I had refused for years). With the lactose intolerance from which so many black people suffer, we need to know that we should look into ways other than consuming milk to keep our bones healthy. We often hear it said that we “learn something new every day,” so I hope that this information will be something of value to your continuing good health.

Please share this article with others who may benefit from its content.