Choices

Choices…

To Ronnie in memoriam

November 16, 2015

Before you disappeared down the scary addiction rabbit-hole,

You chose someone to take your place.

You didn’t know, nor did I,

That we did not fit into his model… that you and yours were not good enough for him.

If anything, because you knew he had been down that very same hole… without my even telling you,

You thought he’d understand, and be able to help yours, your son especially,

To navigate the darkness he would encounter,

And steer him clear.

You thought he’d help your daughter to appreciate herself,

And refuse to resort to looking for love in all the wrong places.

You thought he owed you that, at least, for all you were giving up for him.

Instead, his choices took him in a different direction,

And you were so disappointed, because by then, it was too late

The entrance to the rabbit-hole was closed, and you were forced to watch

The only available choice… one of which you did not approve,

One who took only and never gave, who required too much of us, because he thought

He deserved it. A true child of privilege, like you never were. You had heart.

You were not the only one who made bad choices… even if, especially when,

The choices were made out of love.

My Thoughts on Baltimore 2015

Although I have a "militant streak a mile wide", I have never been a promoter of violence. That said, I truly understand the frustration our young people feel, especially our young men. The odds are stacked against them. They are disrespected on every side, and they are angry. I know...

Ever since Roots aired in 1976, I have not been able to comfortably watch the mistreatment of my people in cinema. I get angry. I am angry and I don't try to pretend that I'm not. I realize, however, that anger does not, in and of itself, beget violence. Violence is a useless and unnecessary response to injustice, which is really what the Civil Rights leaders were trying to teach us many years ago. Anyone who has ever been in a fight will tell you that the issues that fight resolved were nothing compared to the inner issues that had to be resolved in our own minds afterward. If I believed that destroying other people's stuff would somehow make me feel better, I would have been tearing up the world, but I know it doesn't happen like that.

Violence from anyone is wrong, and the smallest, youngest children know right from wrong. Babies know when what they get ready to do is wrong, and they look to adults for validation. They wait, while reaching toward the shiny object that is off-limits, for parents (or any adults in the room) to say, "NO!" They reach more than once, and the "NO!" must be continually reinforced. It's a hard job, but the designation PARENT dictates the necessity for doing it. The job description of parent should contain the disclaimer that it is not a popular position... the employees hate you, the hours are long and grueling, the stress is oppressive, and the pay is lousy. However, the rewards, when a parent sees that a responsible, well-adjusted, respectful and respectable adult is the product, are phenomenal.

Last night was not the first night many of those young people had been out in the streets. Many young people go out every night, just waiting for something to happen, for something to "jump off". Sad, and angry at the world, they go out. They should have been at home reading and studying, but they were out. They should have been playing video games or reading to their younger sisters and brothers, but they were out. It was a school night, but they were out. They should have had something constructive to do, but they were out. They should have, at the very least, been peaceful, as the gang members even asked them to do, but they didn't think they had to, because they were out. They were out because they don't fear the police, although their parents do fear the police and the law in general. Their parents know about consequences, and they are not about to have to suffer them. Parents have learned, the hard way, to protect themselves, even at the cost of their children.

Anyone who knows me knows that I tell everybody I was more afraid of my mother than I was of the police. There were many times when I avoided dangerous situations (not always, but that's another conversation) simply because I was afraid of what my mother might say or do, and I respected her, my family, and my own reputation. I knew that, when she said she would kill me, or that she would leave me in jail because she would never have bail money, even if she had a million dollars, I truly believed her. She didn't lie. She had control, even when I was dozens of miles away from her. At 58, after she has been gone from my consciousness for almost 20 years, she STILL has that control. I catch myself looking around sometimes, to see if she is walking up behind me, and watching my language, which can sometimes get out of hand,  just in case she is.

Now, parents are not allowed to strike that kind of fear into their children. From the time children enter school especially, they know that they can depend on the law to protect them from their parents. I was made aware of this when my daughter entered kindergarten. She came home and proudly announced that her teacher had told her that, if I spanked her, she could dial 9-1-1, and the police would come to help her, and so I could never spank her. Because I cared that her teacher, for whom this was her first teaching job, be aware of this misconception, I contacted her and explained that she needed to explain to the children the difference between parents correcting children, in love, and parents beating and abusing children. I also laughed when she said my daughter came to her that morning and asked her when I was supposed to bring her clothes, because, if I couldn't discipline her, she couldn't live with me. She did a superb job, but she would never have known it was an issue if I hadn't bothered to tell her.

It was an issue for more parents than me, but parents just didn't seem to know it. They bought into the negativity of the media coverage of parents getting arrested for disciplining their children and the adoption of new laws that supported jail time for parents, even if their children did something as simple as missing days from school. They bought into the psychological and sociological data that condemns parents for promoting violence, if they discipline their children. They even bought into the hype that teaching children respect was somehow teaching them to be subservient and cowardly. They allowed their children to be rude and disrespectful, out loud, even if it hurt the feelings and damaged the self-respect of others, claiming "freedom of speech". There were parents like myself, who quietly taught our children, especially our boys, to be respectful, watchful, and disciplined in their deportment, but, gradually, we became the exceptions rather than the norm. We allowed that to happen, without really understanding what we were doing. It became an issue of education, or the lack of education and enlightenment, an education which should have come from our homes. Parents began to feel helpless and hopeless, not fully understanding that,  if they didn't discipline their kids, the streets and the justice system would do it for them, and that would be disastrous for all involved.      

One thing I know for sure is that there shouldn't have been any fighting or looting or burning in the  streets. These young people should not have taken the risk of tarnishing the memory of Freddy Gray, or any other African American male who lost his life unjustly. They should have known that none of these young men would have wanted that... no person in his right mind would have wanted it. They should have started studying, thinking, coming up with ways to change this scenario, and obliterate this obscene and obsessive violence against others, especially our own. They should have, like the gang members who were trying to stop them, pledged to form a band of brothers... intent on making things right. 

Black Lives Matter: What has happened to our children?

On this past Monday, in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, students from Virginia Commonwealth University took to the streets and stopped traffic on Broad and Grace Streets during rush hour, peacefully, silently. It was their seventh march since Thanksgiving, and the march that prompted the Richmond Police Department to ask urgently for dialogue to commence. The students who were interviewed cited the differences in the treatment of VCU's white students who "misbehaved", who were not arrested, harassed,  or given any reprimand from the police or the University.  The students were incensed and passionate, but they were peaceful. I was proud of them.

            The appalling issue was that there were no students from Virginia Union University or Virginia State University present. Surely, so I thought, they must be aware that this matter affects them, too. They compete against each other in athletic events, and party together on the weekends, and the press which defames and degrades affects the HBCU students even more than the students at VCU ( a PWI.. predominantly white institution) should spur them to action or at least support. The schools are in close proximity, and because of social media, it would have been fairly easy for them to communicate their intentions and elicit support  from their peers, but that didn't happen. I was disappointed.

             I knew that the current dilemma over funding and administrative inconsistency was prevalent in the minds of many of the VSU students, but I also knew that the funding issue was part of a larger political effort to further disenfranchise Black youths, who, in the eyes of the public, are unruly miscreants who really don't deserve to get assistance in raising themselves above the poverty level.  So, because of my weekly contact with over 75 VSU students, I decided to ask them about Martin Luther King Day, and what it meant to them. I expected them to at least know about the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960's, and to have some idea about the marches and sit-ins which gave them many of the simple freedoms they now enjoy. What I discovered was that they knew fairly nothing about the movement, nor what it actually did for them. It was not presented as a part of their history lessons in school, or in church, nor was it taught in their homes. The only thing they knew about was King's "I Have a Dream" speech, but not even when or why he made it, and that was only presented to them during Black History Month in their schools. I was saddened.

            Because I am an English teacher with a passion for history and a keen interest in African American studies, I launched into a history lesson that went back to slavery and what it meant for and to us, and proceeded through reconstruction and the Jim Crow era, into the Civil Rights Movement  and finally into Black Lives Matter and what prompted the current movement. I made it a multi-media presentation, by utilizing websites to find pictures, videos, and recorded accounts to make it more interesting for them. I did this "on the fly", since I had no idea that morning that there would be a need for the lesson, but I'm always flexible, and I could relate this to the autobiographies they were scheduled to submit as part of their weekly assignment. I asked them what the people who lived through each era could possibly include in their autobiographies. I was reminded that, at the last Black Alumni Weekend, the first I had attended at UVA, I learned that we were pioneers in many ways and we had no idea of our impact on the students who followed us.  Many students were interested, or at least they pretended to be, but some were convinced that I must have been fabricating some current issues. I knew that I had to prove to them the realities of being Black in America. Knowing that the journal reading/response for this week was "Literacy Behind Bars", by Malcolm X, I knew I had opened a door for further instruction, discussion, and learning.  I was inspired.

            In order to refine my presentations, I have access to the thoughts, opinions, and input of some more "seasoned", non-traditional students at the community college, in my African American Literature class. I am depending on their insight and experience to point me in the direction I need to go for the latter half of the semester in my freshman writing classes... the half that deals with critical thinking and writing. To get them started thinking, I planted an idea. I asked them, as they walked through Southpark Mall, and shopped in the only stores that many of  them have access to, to pay attention to the fact that there were security people who follow Black people around as they shop... moving when they move and stopping when they stop. A few of them had already noticed, but many of those who hadn't, vowed to pay attention. The few who had noticed had also noticed that there were white kids, in the mall, who were loud and disruptive, and some who were even observed shoplifting, but no special attention was paid to them. I asked them how they felt about it, and they were quick to recognize that it didn't just happen at that mall, but also in the malls and stores close to their homes. They talked about Black kids getting busted for doing nothing more than staying in one place together for too long, and white kids just being told to "move along". I explained to them that Black Lives Matter is what that is all about... that Black people, especially young Black males, can get busted, beaten, and even killed, and it didn't seem to matter to anyone... until now. I'm on a mission!    https://www.facebook.com/thomasine.b.hill/about