The canary yellow sun is out, heating up every square inch of the thick July afternoon. I sit in Starbucks, sipping on my caramel frappucino staring out of the translucent windows into the street internally complaining about how it just. doesn't. taste. right. My head then is redirected toward my computer - a thin, sleek macbook pro computer, no more than a year old. My eyes light up at the promise of free internet where there had previously been a requirement to pay. Though I'm a bit distracted by the churn of a coffee grinder aided in its serenade by an oversized grouchy blinder, the corner of my eye catches a glimpse of a sidewalk scene I will never forget. A young man, dark complexion seemed to be gasping for air as he stood awkwardly pressed against a police car that rested in the parking lot of the neighboring gas station. The young man's eyes would have revealed his age or the roundabout nature of his maturity, but his dreadlocks held tightly onto his face desperately obeying the humidity. Two cops, husky in size, pinned the young man down using what I think was reasonable force - though he was unarmed, smaller in stature, and for all intensive purposes, cooperating. Before I could develop an idea about the arrest (or what I assumed to be an arrest), I turned my head, sipped the poorly made frappucino, and began typing again.
damn.
I was a coward. I strategically hid behind my degrees - more the prestige than the paper itself - and the notion that "it wasn't any of my business." But as I look back and recall that scene, I now know that it was absolutely my business as well as the business of every other Starbucks patron. This young man was shown no love, compassion, or respect. More foundational than that, I should have been outraged that a brother, a HUMAN, was being stripped of signs of his humanity right before my eyes. Broad daylight, two against one - and yet excessive force and bullying seemed to remedy the situation. I doubt it. And yet, I sat more concerned about my minor troubles (and pitiful coffee drink) to truly be concerned.
Spirituality enter stage left. Walks over to Johmyrin. Stares him down.
I have claimed to be an Uppity Negro, infiltrating the bedrooms of white women at night and raping them with my intellect just long enough to gain their approval and disarm their wedded bedfellows. I've gained their approval and, in the process, lost an essential connectedness with the plight of those unable to live in both worlds successfully. My courage has been transformed to conformity, justifying my lack of exercise by the sly phrase "I can't help those beneath me if I'm on the same level as them." And though this saying is true, a crucial element in reaching back or paying it forward is constantly immersing oneself in the culture of the downtrodden. Majority culture, practices and habits have always and will always be readily available for my mimicking; however, I can not forget to truly understand the plight of the minority class by using a nonjudgemental heart and a loving spirit.
That's where I faltered.
I've wrongly bought into this idea of success - as empty, misunderstood, and wrongly contrived an idea it is. Success, as we know it, mandates a form of sell-out mentality. We must lose ourselves in order to gain access into those locked bedrooms of opportunity. Instead, we should strive for greatness. Being great demands reflection and constant questioning of dogmas. We don't buy into the status quo but we recognize it for what it is. Being great forces us to infuse our humanity into our daily practices - even while we innocently sip drab coffee in a local cafe. Greatness calls for us - for me - to take my deepest disapproval for the mistreatment of my fellow man and act in love on their behalf. To ensure that wrongs become sustainable rights, and that my brothers and sisters of all races treat one another in a spirit of greatness.
I'm ashamed that I sat and did nothing to help that young man. I pray that God has found grace on him. But rest assured, my actions from here on out will be those linked to the hearts of my fellow man. I am no longer an Uppity Negro. Forget that.
I am a Great Negro.
fin.
I was a coward. I strategically hid behind my degrees - more the prestige than the paper itself - and the notion that "it wasn't any of my business." But as I look back and recall that scene, I now know that it was absolutely my business as well as the business of every other Starbucks patron. This young man was shown no love, compassion, or respect. More foundational than that, I should have been outraged that a brother, a HUMAN, was being stripped of signs of his humanity right before my eyes. Broad daylight, two against one - and yet excessive force and bullying seemed to remedy the situation. I doubt it. And yet, I sat more concerned about my minor troubles (and pitiful coffee drink) to truly be concerned.
Spirituality enter stage left. Walks over to Johmyrin. Stares him down.
I have claimed to be an Uppity Negro, infiltrating the bedrooms of white women at night and raping them with my intellect just long enough to gain their approval and disarm their wedded bedfellows. I've gained their approval and, in the process, lost an essential connectedness with the plight of those unable to live in both worlds successfully. My courage has been transformed to conformity, justifying my lack of exercise by the sly phrase "I can't help those beneath me if I'm on the same level as them." And though this saying is true, a crucial element in reaching back or paying it forward is constantly immersing oneself in the culture of the downtrodden. Majority culture, practices and habits have always and will always be readily available for my mimicking; however, I can not forget to truly understand the plight of the minority class by using a nonjudgemental heart and a loving spirit.
That's where I faltered.
I've wrongly bought into this idea of success - as empty, misunderstood, and wrongly contrived an idea it is. Success, as we know it, mandates a form of sell-out mentality. We must lose ourselves in order to gain access into those locked bedrooms of opportunity. Instead, we should strive for greatness. Being great demands reflection and constant questioning of dogmas. We don't buy into the status quo but we recognize it for what it is. Being great forces us to infuse our humanity into our daily practices - even while we innocently sip drab coffee in a local cafe. Greatness calls for us - for me - to take my deepest disapproval for the mistreatment of my fellow man and act in love on their behalf. To ensure that wrongs become sustainable rights, and that my brothers and sisters of all races treat one another in a spirit of greatness.
I'm ashamed that I sat and did nothing to help that young man. I pray that God has found grace on him. But rest assured, my actions from here on out will be those linked to the hearts of my fellow man. I am no longer an Uppity Negro. Forget that.
I am a Great Negro.
fin.
