As I was writing my most recent blog entry a few days ago, I’d all but convinced myself that it was a boring topic. By that, I mean that I felt like it wouldn’t resonate, and people wouldn’t respond to it.
Apparently, I was wrong. It both surprised, and heartened me that people ARE in fact, willing to share their definitions of what the ‘black community’ is.
Sometimes a word or group of words become so commonplace, that everybody uses them, even in formal settings, without a common agreement as to their definition.
With a word like “Toledo” … this could be a significant problem.
You log on to the airline’s website, book a ticket to Toledo, arrive on time, head through security, hear the head flight attendant announce the destination, and go to sleep, expecting to arrive to the smiling faces of Aunt Em, and Uncle Saul.
Instead, you wake up in a foreign land where nobody knows your name, there’s not a pallet laid out for you somewhere, and the food tastes funny.
Is that an important oversight?
For me, Toledo has to be Toledo in three separate ways, and I’d argue that the same is true of most word pictures.
First, Toledo needs to be the same place that it was last time I went. This can be overruled by explicit knowledge or media blitz explaining that things have changed. New Orleans is an example of this. We all know that New Orleans today, isn’t the same as the Mardi Gras snapshots in your photo album. That place doesn’t exist anymore. It was destroyed by flood. And NOW … if you find yourself discussing New Orleans, you will notice that you say things like “well, before Katrina I was in New Orleans …” or “The French quarter … you know, they’ve cleaned it up since the hurricane.” This is necessary for you AND your listener, because it helps establish your sanity, and the common vision that you are sharing.
Second, Toledo needs to be the same for me that it is for other people who use the word. If you talk about the Ak-sar-ben in Toledo, I won’t know what you’re referring to, and that conversation will require a bit of elaboration from you so that I can share the word picture that you’re painting. I know of Omaha’s Ak-sar-ben. That’s where the horses ran when I was a kid. Sat just south of 72nd and Dodge Street. Now it’s a big lot where the carnival comes to town, and the University is planning to build something or other in the space. Ak-sar-ben just doesn’t mean Toledo to me. Toledo may very well HAVE it’s own Ak-sar-ben. Its just that since I don’t know anything about it, you can’t just plow into your story about it, without catching me up to where you are, and what the dickens you’re talking about.
And finally, TOLEDO has to cop to being TOLEDO. I can’t imagine there’s a more complex word-picture than Toledo. But I’ll bet that right now in Toledo there are billboards that say something like “Toledo’s finest ____________.” Or “The best ____________ in the city of Toledo.” I bet every piece of mail sent to Toledo has Toledo in one of the two bottom lines of the lower address. I’ll bet every news anchor and radio dj says “here in Toledo” at least once a day. I’ll bet that somewhere in that fine city is a ten-foot tall sign that says “Welcome to Toledo” or “Toledo is glad you came. Hope you’ll visit us again, soon.” Toledo KNOWS its Toledo. And it is possible to use the name without taking it in vain. The people who are Toledo know they’re Toledans, or Toledites, Toledoans, or whatever moniker they’ve arrived at a consensus on.
I haven’t been to Toledo in ages, but I’ll bet it still has crime and churches, grocery stores, and hookers. And I’ll bet everyone who lives there, or considers themselves part of Toledo knows it. And I’ll bet that you can say Toledo has crime, without them taking it personally. They KNOW it does.
Readily, I admit that the analogy isn’t precise when I talk about the community. But when I say the Japanese community, or the medical community, or the athletic community, or even the gay, lesbian, and transgendered community, a much more crystal picture comes into my mind, and I feel more confident proceeding with whatever follows. But for some reason, when I say black community … and worse when I HEAR “black community” … it’s just not as clear to me.
One of the things I found intriguing about this question, and the responses I got was how each answer claimed and articulated a feeling that I’m very familiar with:
To my dear friends Zee and Karma, black community was all about the culture. Now, as a black man I accept and acknowledge black culture. I understand it. I can identify it when I see it, even though it encompasses a LOT of different facets. It is dreadlocks, weaves, cornrows, and afros. It is gospel, jazz, blues, and Prince. It is collard greens and corn bread, peach cobbler and malt liquor. I love black culture. I am lost when I cannot touch, hear, see, or smell it. And even though there’s a negative side of the culture – the one I see when I turn on Black Entertainment Television … my nemesis, for the record; I recognize it. But when we talk about black community and only consider the culture—where do people whose specialties don’t reflect that culture fit in? There’s no Clarence Thomas, or Bryant Gumbel, or even Ward Connerly in that discussion. And those are people who have had as much of an impact on the black community I think exists, even though I can’t see it, as Tupac, Billie, and B.B. King.
My chat buddy Sneaky spoke about a violent and ugly black community that I am also familiar with. If you’d lined up 20 of my childhood friends from the neighborhood, and snapped a picture 30 years ago, the MAJORITY of that group today has either been buried, or locked away from society. I’m not speaking hyperbolically, that is my reality. Zee saw the racism of that community as improperly balanced, I KNOW the black community that Sneaky is talking about. That place exists! It’s tangible, and it’s real. And it’s black. I’m not sure if it’s “the black community” or not, but I do know that when I read an article that says crime is up in “the black community,” the author is not writing about the place of peace and love to which Zee refers. That writer is penning a message from the underbelly of that place. They reference a community that has skeletons. And those skeletons have keys to the closets and carry guns when they walk outside.
Dirtysweet honed in on the past, which is an important part of any community, I suspect. In the days she alludes to, colored people had quite a bit in common. I would identify their separation from the rest of the country as their main commonality. If you couldn’t drink out of the white fountain in public, you were DEFINITELY part of “the colored community.” Interestingly, in spite of their skin tones, Africans in America at that time weren’t part of that community. Are they now?
My sounding board and neighbor Becky and my brother Big T took an approach similar to mine, in that they went for the dictionary, and tried to reconcile the words there with the struggle I’m having.
Cherished and Lis took a slightly different tack. Theirs is a very personal “black community.” I wonder if the patriarchs and matriarchs are the leaders in the black community those thoughtful women describe. I would bet that they are. Coming from a strong family myself, this community also resonates with me.
I guess all of these things are “part” of the black community, but to wrap this thought completely around to where I started, are any of these communities we’ve described, places that you can find repeatedly? Could you help someone else find them? Are they the same when different people use a common terminology? Do they each “cop” to being “the black community?”
Ironically, I think that each of these representations of “the black community” face a very similar crossroads, and almost identical problems. But I don’t think many of the solutions that I’ve heard voiced address them independently. Truthfully, I also don’t think there’s much crossover between them. As a result, when I hear about solutions to crime in “the black community,” it confuses me. I don’t know if they’re talking about our families, or our culture, or our religion(s), or our ugly underbelly.
To go back to another theme that dirtysweet touched on, the notion that the only “white community” is the KKK, it took me a minute to follow her line of reasoning. Having considered it, I completely agree.
Allow me to develop the thought as briefly as I can, before you dismiss the idea.
For the most part, the people we describe as “white” people, don’t describe themselves that way.
They call themselves Americans, and claim a heritage that is Irish, or German, or Italian, or Greek. The only time you hear them call themselves “white” … is when the distinction is between blacks and whites. And honestly, I don’t think those people spend a lot of time thinking about “black people” as such. WHEN THEY DO … you start hearing stuff like “white power” or “white flight.” And leaders who describe themselves as “white leaders,” and I only know of a very few, are most often neo-nazis, or militiamen, or avowed racists and bigots. THOSE are the people who live in the “white community.” Everybody else seems to live either in America, or in an ethnic community described some other way.
Yet, men of influence will accept being called a “black leader” or leader of the “black community” even when they’re talking about the war, or politics, or education.
I THINK THAT’S WRONG.
I haven’t signed a permission slip for anyone to speak for me. If I am in fact, part of “the black community,” I’d like more say in who gets the label of my “leader.”
I AM STEW’S leader.
I don’t belong to any churches, or political parties, or religions, or organizations that I’ve given that authority to. And more and more, it pisses me off when people assume a mantle that supposedly includes me, without that permission slip.
Race is hard to talk about. I know this. I appreciate that you’ve all participated in this conversation with me, and I hope we can find some common ground. I’ve chatted with, or talked to many if not all of you individually, and I know that this is a reasonable group. There isn’t a “more” important internal discussion for Americans to have. We’ve got some things that need sunlight, and air.
Peace, pleasure, and prosperity …
--Stew.
Apparently, I was wrong. It both surprised, and heartened me that people ARE in fact, willing to share their definitions of what the ‘black community’ is.
Sometimes a word or group of words become so commonplace, that everybody uses them, even in formal settings, without a common agreement as to their definition.
With a word like “Toledo” … this could be a significant problem.
You log on to the airline’s website, book a ticket to Toledo, arrive on time, head through security, hear the head flight attendant announce the destination, and go to sleep, expecting to arrive to the smiling faces of Aunt Em, and Uncle Saul.
Instead, you wake up in a foreign land where nobody knows your name, there’s not a pallet laid out for you somewhere, and the food tastes funny.
Is that an important oversight?
For me, Toledo has to be Toledo in three separate ways, and I’d argue that the same is true of most word pictures.
First, Toledo needs to be the same place that it was last time I went. This can be overruled by explicit knowledge or media blitz explaining that things have changed. New Orleans is an example of this. We all know that New Orleans today, isn’t the same as the Mardi Gras snapshots in your photo album. That place doesn’t exist anymore. It was destroyed by flood. And NOW … if you find yourself discussing New Orleans, you will notice that you say things like “well, before Katrina I was in New Orleans …” or “The French quarter … you know, they’ve cleaned it up since the hurricane.” This is necessary for you AND your listener, because it helps establish your sanity, and the common vision that you are sharing.
Second, Toledo needs to be the same for me that it is for other people who use the word. If you talk about the Ak-sar-ben in Toledo, I won’t know what you’re referring to, and that conversation will require a bit of elaboration from you so that I can share the word picture that you’re painting. I know of Omaha’s Ak-sar-ben. That’s where the horses ran when I was a kid. Sat just south of 72nd and Dodge Street. Now it’s a big lot where the carnival comes to town, and the University is planning to build something or other in the space. Ak-sar-ben just doesn’t mean Toledo to me. Toledo may very well HAVE it’s own Ak-sar-ben. Its just that since I don’t know anything about it, you can’t just plow into your story about it, without catching me up to where you are, and what the dickens you’re talking about.
And finally, TOLEDO has to cop to being TOLEDO. I can’t imagine there’s a more complex word-picture than Toledo. But I’ll bet that right now in Toledo there are billboards that say something like “Toledo’s finest ____________.” Or “The best ____________ in the city of Toledo.” I bet every piece of mail sent to Toledo has Toledo in one of the two bottom lines of the lower address. I’ll bet every news anchor and radio dj says “here in Toledo” at least once a day. I’ll bet that somewhere in that fine city is a ten-foot tall sign that says “Welcome to Toledo” or “Toledo is glad you came. Hope you’ll visit us again, soon.” Toledo KNOWS its Toledo. And it is possible to use the name without taking it in vain. The people who are Toledo know they’re Toledans, or Toledites, Toledoans, or whatever moniker they’ve arrived at a consensus on.
I haven’t been to Toledo in ages, but I’ll bet it still has crime and churches, grocery stores, and hookers. And I’ll bet everyone who lives there, or considers themselves part of Toledo knows it. And I’ll bet that you can say Toledo has crime, without them taking it personally. They KNOW it does.
Readily, I admit that the analogy isn’t precise when I talk about the community. But when I say the Japanese community, or the medical community, or the athletic community, or even the gay, lesbian, and transgendered community, a much more crystal picture comes into my mind, and I feel more confident proceeding with whatever follows. But for some reason, when I say black community … and worse when I HEAR “black community” … it’s just not as clear to me.
One of the things I found intriguing about this question, and the responses I got was how each answer claimed and articulated a feeling that I’m very familiar with:
To my dear friends Zee and Karma, black community was all about the culture. Now, as a black man I accept and acknowledge black culture. I understand it. I can identify it when I see it, even though it encompasses a LOT of different facets. It is dreadlocks, weaves, cornrows, and afros. It is gospel, jazz, blues, and Prince. It is collard greens and corn bread, peach cobbler and malt liquor. I love black culture. I am lost when I cannot touch, hear, see, or smell it. And even though there’s a negative side of the culture – the one I see when I turn on Black Entertainment Television … my nemesis, for the record; I recognize it. But when we talk about black community and only consider the culture—where do people whose specialties don’t reflect that culture fit in? There’s no Clarence Thomas, or Bryant Gumbel, or even Ward Connerly in that discussion. And those are people who have had as much of an impact on the black community I think exists, even though I can’t see it, as Tupac, Billie, and B.B. King.
My chat buddy Sneaky spoke about a violent and ugly black community that I am also familiar with. If you’d lined up 20 of my childhood friends from the neighborhood, and snapped a picture 30 years ago, the MAJORITY of that group today has either been buried, or locked away from society. I’m not speaking hyperbolically, that is my reality. Zee saw the racism of that community as improperly balanced, I KNOW the black community that Sneaky is talking about. That place exists! It’s tangible, and it’s real. And it’s black. I’m not sure if it’s “the black community” or not, but I do know that when I read an article that says crime is up in “the black community,” the author is not writing about the place of peace and love to which Zee refers. That writer is penning a message from the underbelly of that place. They reference a community that has skeletons. And those skeletons have keys to the closets and carry guns when they walk outside.
Dirtysweet honed in on the past, which is an important part of any community, I suspect. In the days she alludes to, colored people had quite a bit in common. I would identify their separation from the rest of the country as their main commonality. If you couldn’t drink out of the white fountain in public, you were DEFINITELY part of “the colored community.” Interestingly, in spite of their skin tones, Africans in America at that time weren’t part of that community. Are they now?
My sounding board and neighbor Becky and my brother Big T took an approach similar to mine, in that they went for the dictionary, and tried to reconcile the words there with the struggle I’m having.
Cherished and Lis took a slightly different tack. Theirs is a very personal “black community.” I wonder if the patriarchs and matriarchs are the leaders in the black community those thoughtful women describe. I would bet that they are. Coming from a strong family myself, this community also resonates with me.
I guess all of these things are “part” of the black community, but to wrap this thought completely around to where I started, are any of these communities we’ve described, places that you can find repeatedly? Could you help someone else find them? Are they the same when different people use a common terminology? Do they each “cop” to being “the black community?”
Ironically, I think that each of these representations of “the black community” face a very similar crossroads, and almost identical problems. But I don’t think many of the solutions that I’ve heard voiced address them independently. Truthfully, I also don’t think there’s much crossover between them. As a result, when I hear about solutions to crime in “the black community,” it confuses me. I don’t know if they’re talking about our families, or our culture, or our religion(s), or our ugly underbelly.
To go back to another theme that dirtysweet touched on, the notion that the only “white community” is the KKK, it took me a minute to follow her line of reasoning. Having considered it, I completely agree.
Allow me to develop the thought as briefly as I can, before you dismiss the idea.
For the most part, the people we describe as “white” people, don’t describe themselves that way.
They call themselves Americans, and claim a heritage that is Irish, or German, or Italian, or Greek. The only time you hear them call themselves “white” … is when the distinction is between blacks and whites. And honestly, I don’t think those people spend a lot of time thinking about “black people” as such. WHEN THEY DO … you start hearing stuff like “white power” or “white flight.” And leaders who describe themselves as “white leaders,” and I only know of a very few, are most often neo-nazis, or militiamen, or avowed racists and bigots. THOSE are the people who live in the “white community.” Everybody else seems to live either in America, or in an ethnic community described some other way.
Yet, men of influence will accept being called a “black leader” or leader of the “black community” even when they’re talking about the war, or politics, or education.
I THINK THAT’S WRONG.
I haven’t signed a permission slip for anyone to speak for me. If I am in fact, part of “the black community,” I’d like more say in who gets the label of my “leader.”
I AM STEW’S leader.
I don’t belong to any churches, or political parties, or religions, or organizations that I’ve given that authority to. And more and more, it pisses me off when people assume a mantle that supposedly includes me, without that permission slip.
Race is hard to talk about. I know this. I appreciate that you’ve all participated in this conversation with me, and I hope we can find some common ground. I’ve chatted with, or talked to many if not all of you individually, and I know that this is a reasonable group. There isn’t a “more” important internal discussion for Americans to have. We’ve got some things that need sunlight, and air.
Peace, pleasure, and prosperity …
--Stew.
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