In part two, I suggested three things African Americans can do to help repair ourselves. They included active civic engagement, financial literacy to build generational wealth, and education in service to a fulfilling career. The remaining four suggestions are presented here.
We all know that white Americans and many immigrants often boast about how their family came to the United States with nothing but were able to pull themselves up by their “bootstraps” to improve the lives of subsequent generations through hard work. This is truly “the land of opportunity”, they will say with pride. Having that life experience and mindset, many are quick to point to African Americans and wonder what is wrong with those people? Why do they remain at the bottom of the socio-economic ladder? They’ll say slavery ended a long time ago, so their lack of success must be caused by their cultural deficiencies or perhaps their inferior DNA. They ask themselves why these people wallow in the past and keep claiming victimhood?
Either they are unaware, or they conveniently sidestep the years of Jim Crowe, the unfettered terror of violence, real estate redlining, racism, prejudice, detrimental government policies, and desperate treatment in employment, media coverage, housing, healthcare, education, banking, and the criminal justice system. They ignore the reality that whole communities and powerful individuals, often in backroom decision-making where no one is looking, curtailed our progress and ruined our collective reputation. Even though the law demands fairness and equal treatment, time after time, fairness and equal treatment have been elusive when it comes to African Americans. However, many Americans are mostly unaware of the mistreatment of their fellow Americans. I’ve had many white students express shock and dismay when they are presented with the economic and social disparities linked to discrimination, racism, and governmental policies. Many of these unsuspecting Americans will point to the small handful of black people who overcame both the visible and invisible obstacles to become successful as proof that the system is in fact equal, fair and just.
That was the great mind trip I faced as a teenager. There was the stated promise of fairness and equal treatment, but the reality I repeatedly encountered was so different. What I came to realize at an early age when I discovered the difference in school resources offered to white children and denied to children of color, was that I had to persist anyway. I learned that I had to find a window when a door was closed. I had to run while others could walk. I had to develop the courage, a strategy, and the tact to defend my integrity, my intelligence, my abilities, and my work. I recall the time when a white female PhD student at USC encouraged me to confront a white male English professor to insist that my paper deserved an “A” and not the “B” he gave it. After reading my paper, she was adamant that I confront him, and she told me how to approach the situation. Without any protest, the professor gave me the “A”. Until then I had been accustomed to being short-changed and I had accepted that I needed to be undeniably superior to get what others were given.
Experience taught me that I couldn’t be as good, I had to be better and that even then, I could be viewed as a threat to insecure people. For many years, I bore emotional blows with a smile. I saw betrayal up close and personal. However, I chose my fights carefully and won a few, but lost even more. It seemed like there were potential fights everywhere. I could have protested many times but didn’t like the time when I was the first in line for a sample at Costco, but the older white lady server literally moved my hand away to first serve the white woman behind me. I let it slide because I was happy to allow everyone around me to observe this woman’s blatant racist behavior. However, I should have, but didn’t protest in 1978 when an apartment manager informed us newlyweds when we arrived for our appointment to see an available apartment that it was already rented. We called again and found out that it wasn’t. We were young and decided that we could find another apartment. I’ve always felt guilty and ashamed by our short-sighted behavior that day. If that happened today, I would report it. And since that incident, I have called out discriminatory practices whenever I encounter them.
So, my fourth piece of advice for African Americans is to protect our mental health by picking our fights carefully. Walking away from a fight is emotionally draining, but actual fights are even more emotionally draining. However, some fights are definitely worth having. I eventually decided to fight whenever I saw discrimination and whenever a situation threatened my children’s health and education or to defend my wallet and my reputation. I have and I’m in favor of sitting down with a mental health professional to unpack the trauma that practically every African American endures. Some of it is generational and some is connected to specific events, and even more is from the accumulation of daily indignities we suffer at the hands of the media, unwitting associates, and people we barely know. We internalize the message that we aren’t valued when the media highlights the one missing blonde girl, but completely ignores the many black girls who go missing, are trafficked and murdered. It is traumatizing to see young black men murdered by other young black men or the police. It is traumatizing to have government leaders belittle black history and villainize Black Lives Matter. We like to think we are strong, but even the most resilient among us, can benefit from counseling. I know I have benefited greatly from it.
For many years, I’ve said that black people in this country need to hire a public relations firm to enhance our collective image. I wish we would pool our resources and do it! Too many people continue to harbor a largely negative image of black people. We are viewed as highly emotional, prone to violence, overly loud, wildly colorful, overly sexual, uneducated, poor and lazy, but athletic people who can sing and dance. We’re good for a laugh and a roll in the hay but seen as a threat when we want to be taken seriously. It would be great if one of our few multi-millionaires hired that public relations firm to remind folks that we are simply human beings with as varied a skill set and mindset as any other individual human beings. But unless that happens, each of us is a public relations statement for the entire race.
One might think that black women hired such a firm. Since Oprah and a few others, we have come to be viewed as these invincible creatures who don’t feel pain, can handle all manner of physical and emotional abuse, are loud and intimidating, full of wisdom, and possess some kind of “black girl magic”. However, this false narrative hides some disturbing facts we must address. For starters, although we are the most highly educated group, we are still paid only 64 cents for every one dollar earned by white males. In addition, we have the highest abortion rates among any ethnic group and the highest maternal mortality rates, dying from pregnancy complications nearly three times more often than white women. The loss of Roe will hit black women the hardest, especially since 45 percent of black women under the age of 55 live in red states with limited or no access to abortion. These same women continue to have limited access to birth control and pre-natal healthcare. A disaster is at our doorstep, so we need to push to change this situation immediately or many of our sisters will die and many more black babies will be born into dire circumstances. Each of us must act as a public relations firm within our circle of influence to highlight our challenges and to suggest solutions so that we can work to change things.
My sixth piece of advice is to move away from living in predominately black neighborhoods to residing in integrated neighborhoods. Separate has never been equal! We need a second migration that takes us to communities that offer healthier water and air, better schools, access to healthcare, better job and business opportunities, improved shopping at better prices, and safer communities. When poor black people cluster together, it’s easier for the government to withhold resources and further marginalize people. But if we start spreading out across the nation instead of clustering in small pockets, we have a much better chance of thriving. It is only in communities of color that armed guards are found in the stores. It is only in communities of color that there are liquor stores instead of grocery stores and banks on every corner. It is only in communities of color that you have to wait multiple hours to vote. It is only in communities of color that there are bars on the windows. It is only in communities of color that schools are under-resourced.
While there are a few challenges to living as a minority in other parts of town, those challenges are far fewer than living in an impoverished, over-policed, and under-resourced community. I know this from experience. The benefits far outweigh the costs. If I had to choose where to raise my family all over again, I’d convince my brother and his family to move with us so that their lives could have been easier. The few black families in our neighborhood quickly found each other and we supported each other throughout the years. The best thing about the choice was the opportunity to build equity in our house while the kids obtained a solid K-12 education. The second-best thing was the sustained opportunity to expose people to an actual black family so they could see beyond the media’s negative portrayal of African Americans.
I admit to having to gently challenge the occasional, “I don’t consider you black” or “You’re so articulate?” or “Your kids are so well behaved.” I admit to having to be an advocate for my kids on several occasions when white teachers wanted to automatically track them into lower levels. However, I didn’t need a gifted certification to get the job done like my mother needed for me. That’s progress. And we enjoyed the security of a neighborhood free from the threat of gang violence, police brutality, and burglary. My kids ran a candy store out of our garage that was profitable. They were popular in school, and I always reminded them that being a fly in the buttermilk makes you extra visible, so use that to your advantage not your disadvantage.
My final piece of advice to African Americans is to support, even fund, other African Americans who are trying to educate themselves, start businesses, and are fighting to uplift the values of liberty, justice, and equality through their creativity, talents, protests, entrepreneurial endeavors, and political leadership.
No one is coming to rescue us or to repair the damage that has been done. But with determination, a few smart moves, and mutual support, I truly believe we can repair ourselves.