Category — BillCosby

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.