Black Men: Generational Disconnect

Our parents meant well. They didn't want us to struggle like they did. Their parents rose out of Jim Crow-isms, bigotry and hatred that most of us have heard about but would find ourselves the black pinata for any side-eyed discriminatory comment of a white man or woman. I don't have to give the history lesson, but its important for me to put this blog into context. Our parents got it hard, because their parents lived hard. We got it easy because our parents got it hard. Generationally, we've seen lighter times. But at what cost?

I remember how my great Uncle got up every Saturday morning, cut his grass, fixed something on his truck, brought my Great Aunt to buy groceries and still found time to enjoy a nice power walk around the block. He did this all while raising 4 kids, holding 2 jobs, and serving as Deacon at the church. He is still alive. His rituals haven't changed. And yet, the thought of this kind of life perplexes me. I am completely disconnected from him and his interpretation of "living life" but at the same time I feel as though I am losing out on some important ideologies. My context of history is found within the confines of books I read on black empowerment and historical surveillance. However, even still I feel disconnected and removed from the experience.

The cold, Post-Katrina night that I was stopped by the cops and harassed SHOULD NOT have been the defining experience that annotated the blackness of my existence in this novel of my life. But it was. I was no better than any other black man, upstanding or criminal. I was black. A black man. And unfortunately, as far as I know it, that's all I can grasp of my blackness. But recently I've been challenged to define my black "male-ness" in the context of a relationship. Going into the challenge, I knew I was at a disadvantage because at any given time in my youth I was only raised by one parent, be it my father or my mother - but not both. And not at the same time. Two doctrines that for the most part meshed well but the places they differed were drastic. So, how do I operate in today's society as a young black man looking to be in a relationship but not truly understanding the black experience? I know other black men struggle with this too. Especially when I think about my students whose frame of reference for black interaction rises out of rap songs and sports superstars. Tragic. But let's bring it back to me. I'm educated, self-aware and looking to grow, and yet, I am still searching for my "green card" of validation in the black world. My uncle gains his validation everyday that he exists and works and fathers and loves. But I don't know where to start. How do I support a family with no frame of reference for the 2 parent household? How do I lead a household like the black man is to do but show the love of my life the humanism and vulnerability that has been engrained in me from my mother? Where is the line of definition between the provider and the comforter? My uncle never has these questions - to my knowledge. He simply glides through his daily rituals unabashed by these concerns. But as I get to the age where I want to settle down, potentially start a family and/or commit myself to THE ONE, I find that I want to be on the starting line trying to weave in all these characteristics.

Mentorship is fine. I definitely have those. But usually they advise me on making academic and financial moves in my life. I am at a loss for guidance in the areas of Black Male-ness, as I have so affectionately and unfortunately come to call it. I see young black men go into relationships unprepared or underprepared and it sends a chill down my spine. I DO NOT WANT THAT. I have been in a situation where I've lost the love of my life. Now, I need to find that love again in someone new and go thru the motions of a relationship not having to feel insecure or inadequate in the tools of intimacy I bring to the table.

I actually feel better verbalizing this because I feel that other young black men are experiencing this. So maybe a reader can direct me in the right direction. Who knows, I may actually come out on top on this issue. Until then, I remain,

Confused and Single.

The Schizophrenia of Casual Sex

Human beings have done a damned good job of marginalizing the guy on the corner who, under the stench of many a sleepless night in front of a hotel garbage can, has developed a world within his own mind that is beautiful. violent, serene, and dangerous. You know the guy. The one who you cross the street to avoid. The one whom we can not quite look in the face for fear of attack. The one who talks aloud to no visible creature. The Main St. schizophrenic. He's the guy who PROBABLY once had it all - a stable family, nice car, decent home, financial solvency. And then, (we assume) one day he just "clicked" out and lost it all. In the most sorrowful parts of our hearts we wish he would get some mental health assistance, but this is usually overridden by our disconnectedness and unrelatedness to the "Crazy man" - a conjecture best fit for the bigotry of the 1960's.

We seem to find it easy to feel sorrowful for him but I am willing to go out on a limb (and maybe even bet a couple hundred bucks) and hypothesize that many of us live a self-sustained schizophrenia. Our bodies, minds and souls live in disjointed peace and harmony.

I recently read in GQ, an article that glorified cheating and casual sex. As I read what was a seemingly inspiring article for young, sexually active adults like myself, somehow I became disconnected from the praise the author was giving to his discoveries about one-night stands. As I am maturing and growing older, I find it harder and harder for me to have casual intimacy and then walk away unaffected. For years I lived like this, in now what I recognize as a schizophrenia. I gave many individuals a part of me, one of the most sacred parts of me and acted unaffected in the aftermath. So, exactly what was my revelation? Here it goes:

We know and recognize the existence of mind and body. One cannot properly function without the other in society. Brain dead humans and humans laying in comas are perfect examples of both - they just don't contribute anything to society. But the third portion of the human existence is the soul. YES, the soul. And while many dispute its existence, I know there is more to me than carbon and oxygen. Its the part of us that cries out to the rhythm of our favorite song. The tingly feeling above our eye brow that alerts us to someone watching. The part of us that is connected to every other part of this universe.

Without getting too philosophical, just ponder on it for a minute. Society tells us that girls are more prone to becoming attached because of the connection they have with their partner when having sex. I challenge this theory and know for a fact that girls and guys are connected to every person they've had sex with. When you see that other person, memories and feelings flood your mind. But to sustain a life where you walk away pretending you are unaffected, means you have perfected the "Crazy Man" mentality.

Don't get me wrong. I am not here to judge. But I would say that I applaud the Main St. guy more because he's transparent, liberated and aggressive about his beliefs. Most we can do as those who partake in casual sex is pretend we don't feel, dishonor our emotional attachment and swim upstream to our mental stability. I think its time we arrived at something less carnal and more aligned to the purpose of intimacy. We need to ONLY involve ourselves intimately with those we truly love and care for, which means we need to love and care for ourselves first.

This is just my charge to society. And please don't think for one second that I'm not starting with me.

Pulled in every direction at the same time

I'm 26. I'm attractive. I'm fun-loving. Got good credit. Hold wavering but strong beliefs. Amicable. I recently fell in love with onions and other  pungent foods. I work out. Drink a frappucino every now and then. And I have my MBA.

See, I purposefully left my degree or any mention of school til last because I have, so often, defined myself through what academic success I have rather than what qualities make up the totality that is me. Yet my educational goals have pretty much dictated my life. I've never openly admitted this but I am deathly afraid of being average. I've always been above average in the areas of my life. And now, I feel as though I would be leading a mundane existence if I stopped here. And education can get me out of the mundane and into the surreal. Ugh - but at a high cost.

I've given up a lot for my education - because I know what doors education can open up. The wise tales of old have come into fruition. "Go to school to make a better life for yourself." Well that's exactly what I want to do! I want to go to school and become a pharmacist - not for the money (though a comfortable salary is possible) but for the saturation of my interest. I need to be around folk like myself who are interested in medicines' effects on the human system.

But this seems to leave me in the gutters of love. I don't know how to manage a relationship and follow my passion. But I want a relationship horribly. I want to hold that special girl at night and kiss her on the back of her neck, whispering the quietest, sweetest nothings in her ears. I want to have someone there to share my money with, take lavish vacations with, spoil kids with... But being raised primarily by my mother didn't set a good precedent for me at all. I only know how to manage one-sided relationships. I'm weary of women because my mother was the best example of a great woman, and even still, she used her womanly tactics to make life what it needed to be. So where do I begin? Is it that I need to take a class or something? Brothers teaching brothers? Man, I just don't know where to start. And I refuse to get into something unprepared or underprepared, though I am sure there are ladies out there who will work with me. But is that fair to them?

There are no answers right now. But I just needed to vent.

That is all.

I'm not giving up ANYTHING for Lent

But I don't mean that disrespectfully. For years, I've felt obliged to start again, right around midnight as I left the cruddy streets of the French Quarter. For every fattening slice of king cake I ingested, every cocktail I guzzled, and for every derogatory term that glided off my tongue, I felt the need for a Lenten promise that would give my life the stability that it needed.

Until a few years ago, that is. I heard a priest confess in a homily his indignation with the idea of temporary sacrifice - though it was an honorable pact made with God. He said however, that instead of making God all these temporary promises, we could actually NOT give up anything! You can imagine the congregation's response. But, in my mind I found this intriguing. Fr. Jacques said we should try to weave in activity that makes God smile - the results would be longer lasting and the joy you get from doing these things would persist longer than 40 days.

I tried it back then and I've decided to be rejuvenated by it again. So, here's a list of things I had stopped doing that I am going to weave into my life FAR PAST the 40 day mark....

1. Pray for the people I had given up on - INTENSE
2. Recommit to my grueling work out, not just one that pacifies my health-conscious psyche.
3. Spend more time with my Godson!
4. RELAX - at least one day of the week.
5. READ
6. Give more hugs and kisses
7. Reconnect to a community service outlet

That about sums it up. And 7 is a great number of new activities to have.

Happy Lenten Season to all.

God grant me the serenity....

As I sit here, contemplative of this life I am currently living, the serenity prayers seems to ring volumes in my ears right now. I'm growing up - in my relationship with God, and this is the first time I have been able to really see that. As an adolescent, I used to break out in the worst hives, a clear sign that I was anxious for something to happen or a change to come. My body's way of responding to undue pressure and stress I placed on it. This was a clear indication that I needed to stop and force myself to calm down. And for most people this would be a simple task. However, I can remember it taking me more than an hour to actually see the hives disappear. How can a kid so young and innocent be so confused and worried about this outside of his control?

Well this carried over into adulthood, though my body's physical response is very different. Weirdly enough, a few months back I had a hives outbreak. And it literally scared me to sleep. When I awoke from the emotional fatigue, I prayed the serenity prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

What a difficult prayer to pray! For a worrier like myself, someone who is constantly processing events and outcomes, this prayer is almost mental/spiritual suicide. It casts me in a position to forsake a natural part of me, the faithless part. But, at that moment, I needed to be free of worry. 100% faithful that if God promised to take care of my problems for me, then all I needed to do was wait on him. Such a powerful prayer. 

So, as of 2010, I'm living each day in its appropriate context and taking the woes of life just for what they are. There's a song that says, "Weeping may endure for a night, Keep the faith and it will be alright - Trouble don't last always!" Well, I'm actually trusting that God's going to cause the increase in my life. I need him to do so. I need change. 

And so i will continue to pray that prayer because right now, it's all I have. I'm looking for growth in every area of my life so that I can rise above the issues and enter into this next phase with God before me. 

Till next time. 

WHO DAT!

Addiction to the Spotlight

My first stage appearance was at the age of 12. I made the conscious decision that I wanted to earn the $5 prize saved for one of the kids who could "second line" with the most heart - a daunting task for an introverted kid whose smile was once that only signal that I was even alive. Prior to this moment, I enjoyed being a kid who relaxed in the quiet recesses of my bedroom, reading and drawing and listening to the rain cascade across my window during those rainy summer New Orleans months. See, I was my momma's baby boy - even at 12 years of age. I stuck close by and only ventured out to explore the world in the safety of my backyard. But at this very moment, something changed inside of me. I no longer gave into the urge to hide or fade into the shadow of my mom's extreme personality. I wanted to dance. I wanted to earn the five dollars. I wanted to take a chance in the spotlight. So I did. My feet and body moved to a beat so drunkenly that I forgot about everyone watching me. All I heard were the yells and screams of applause. The room went dark leaving but the sounds of trumpets and tubas to paint a rich color of joy and happiness in my world. I was hooked. When I came to, I saw my mother's face. She wore a smile that only a son could want to see. She approved - greatly. And though she was shocked to see her "baby" perform, a part of her smirk showed that she knew this star was there all along. I had earned those $5.

I absolutely loved the attention however, something changed. There was a difference in me that I would not come to recognize until almost another 12 years had passed.

Over those years, I became calculated, purposeful and split. In times where I felt threatened to have to return to the shadow of some overwhelming personality, I put on my performing mask and became larger than life! I can remember everyone at prom being completely surprised that to see me center floor, "letting go." The class valedictorian, the nerd, the reserved football player... completely showing out. And then the applause came. It was like a high. I got dizzy with the euphoria of my celebration and ended the night a tired, sweaty yet popular mess. I couldn't have asked for better days.

But then we get to college. As I had matured, the spotlight did as well. No longer did I need the be center stage in a physical way but now my need for the spotlight had become something even more different than what I expected. I became everything for everybody - each person providing me with a platform to be their personal performer. I joined too many organizations and neglected myself in the process. They needed me... Only I could do the job they needed done. Or so I thought. I was stretched so thin that every part of me performed for everybody all the time and I gained nothing from it.

Well, Michael Jackson isn't the only star to pay a great price for extreme stardom. I got to a point where I collapsed. I physically collapsed. My body and mind were in disjunctive state where I tried to keep going but my career as a performer needed to come to a fast end. See, what I didn't mention is that being a performer means certain things: everyone drinks when you drink; your car is the designated vehicle - no one gives gas money and no one never asked to do so; you roll with folks outside of your income bracket to preserve the fake perception that you have it all - I mean, what pics could the paparazzi take if I wasn't "doing the most." Well, aside from the financial, spiritual, emotional and physical burden the spotlight can place on you, it is simply too hard a lifestyle to maintain. Something's got to give - and usually that something happens to be extremely important.

Well, I've learned my lesson and I have been spotlight free for the past 2-3 years. I'm on a 12 step program requiring that I love myself first and that I build priorities in my life that will chastise the activities with which I involve myself. I have learned to re-appreciate the reader, and artist within me. I have learned to build a balance between both parts of my personality so that I am not swayed in any one way. So here I am, a 26 year old paying more than the $5 I earned as a 12 year old - a hard lesson that I will take with me in these next 12 years of life.

The spotlight is nice but there's a reason that you stand in it alone.

A man distanced from God....

I am a poet with a limited vocabulary. The waters of my river run against gravity. I am consistently reconciling my thoughts in order to avoid insanity. I am a christian who struggles with his salvation. 

I've never known the truest love of my father. He's been a financial backing for me which has been great but I am heatedly envious of my friends who have their fathers as active participants in their lives. Mine loves me. I know he does. He was just never conditioned to express love so he does not know how. I inherited the backlash of this. 

America has oversensationalized the "single-mother" success story. And while I applaud mother's who can raise their children alone, I am a fervent believer that it takes two complete parents to raise a child. I find that even friends who are raised with both parents can have a father who is so dejected from emotional display that it feels like he really isn't in the home. So, how am I distanced from God and how does this tie in with the family unit? Glad you asked! 

Think about it. Young men who have fathers that are very emotionally expressive and who model strong fatherly behavior are more likely to fully understand the love of a "male" God who wants and has everything good thing in store. And while my father is there financially, I consider myself a product of a single parent household. So to understand or believe that there is a man, a God who has my best interest at heart is like asking me to speak French to a Portuguese woman with the intention on her understanding me. Its difficult. I believe the church has missed it. We focus on "getting black boys off the streets" but do they truly understand that why these boys can find solace and peace as a part of a gang but not find faith in the love of a fathering God. I believe its a simple examination of an even simpler phenomenon. Fatherless boys are less apt to believe in a Fathering God because they have never had a tangible example to see as a model. At least that is the case for me. I struggle - Lord knows I struggle with this.  Sometimes it brings me to tears just to believe that a man could love me like God does. Its such a new feeling. Its fresh and invigorating and it makes me relieved to know that maybe I wasn't cursed with having an emotionally vacant father. But then there are times when I simply don't understand it. I can't wrap my mind around how or WHY a God would want to take care of me or love me or have high hopes for me because I am so removed from the environment where these are possibilities. I am not sure that I will ever figure it out. Or that I want to. But I do know that if I need to grow in faith and eliminate the distance I feel was innately created between myself and God, then I need to get to the root of all this. UGH!!! 

I can't wait to start writing this book. I need to examine this deeper.