There will be no party hats for me, no buttons celebrating the semi-centennial of the March on Washington. I am even canceling my order for my Time-Life commemorative plate for the 2008 election. I’m tired of cheap celebrations of triumph that never really happened. As I take inventory of the progress of Blacks fifty years after the March on Washington, and almost 150 years after emancipation, it is clear we have not overcome. Though blacks have obtained the ballot, a black man occupies the highest office in the land and I, a black woman, write this from a cushy fellowship at Vanderbilt University, the pressing physical, legal and economic threats to black life remain oddly intact. While the subordinate status of Blacks in America has become more covert, little has changed in the last century. How can I say this? The inclusion of blacks as equal participants in society is a reality, right? We have been begrudgingly grafted into the system, but at what cost?
The Black Community has been pacified by inclusion, without demanding equity. We naively thought that having a seat at the table would somehow make us equal, yet the political and economic climate of America maintains Black subordination and White supremacy. Both the results of the Civil Rights Movement and the 2008 election accomplished greater inclusion in the system; however, America’s dependence on black exploitation remains unchanged. The excitement of sharing white space and the novelty of a Black man giving the State of the Union address has lulled many into a false sense of progress. Black people, especially those who believe themselves to be middle and upper classed believe they are Americans, and rightfully so, but have we really arrived? Has real progress been achieved, or are we fooling ourselves to believe that because we have attained some bits of individual financial or political success that we have overcome? Do we earn as much as our white counterparts? Are our resources for education on par with that of the rest of society? Do we have businesses to bequeath to our children? Do gated communities keep our sons safe from people killing our sons? Do the laws punish them when they do? We are still socially subordinate, economically preyed upon and politically manipulated. Perhaps we need to do less believing in the system and more believing in ourselves.
Black Americans have forgotten the importance of self-reliance. We have become disconnected from our livelihood. We bought the hype. We fought for the right to have a seat at the table, but believe our contributions to be inferior, and we have paid the price. So quickly we leapt at the chance to attend white schools and allow latently racist pedagogies to mold the minds of our children, so quickly we seized our rights as Americans to attend the Vanderbilts, Yales and MITs that we abandoned the institutions that nourished our roots when we could barely write our names. Rather than be educated with a sense of the importance of preserving and contributing to our community, black people have participated in systems that have indoctrinated them into White supremacy. In an economy where blackness is dishonorable and anyone striving for respectability is taught to distance themselves from black culture, there can be no ethic of self-reliance. We believe White companies are better to work for than black companies because they yield greater status and quicker return, white products are superior to black products because they are more readily accessible and black people can’t be trusted to create a quality product. Meanwhile, Black people remain the life’s blood of American capitalism, while Black labor and Black dollars leave the Black community with no return on investment.
There is little to celebrate, except perhaps America’s craftiness in shrouding her oldest sin in the guise of inclusion. A party hat feels more like a dunce cap, as I come to the realization that in many ways inclusion might just do the black community more harm than good. I fear it has made us all, President Obama included, tokens various institutions trot out as a ruse of amends made by America for its systematic and relentless abuse of black people from slavery to the present, without ever truly taking its foot off our necks. I’ll be waiting for equity, otherwise known as fairness, before I start dancing in the streets for progress and when I do, my party hat will be kente cloth, purchased from a third generation, black-owned business, who’s owner is part of a collective of black business owners in the nation. Perhaps it will be the result of a government initiative to establish black economic stability, or the outgrowth of a systematic push to revitalize HBCU’s and foster a spirit of communal cooperation. When I see sustained progress like this, then I will sit for a celebratory feast, and I’ll know it’s real when I am not asked to sit at the kiddy’s table.
The Black Community has been pacified by inclusion, without demanding equity. We naively thought that having a seat at the table would somehow make us equal, yet the political and economic climate of America maintains Black subordination and White supremacy. Both the results of the Civil Rights Movement and the 2008 election accomplished greater inclusion in the system; however, America’s dependence on black exploitation remains unchanged. The excitement of sharing white space and the novelty of a Black man giving the State of the Union address has lulled many into a false sense of progress. Black people, especially those who believe themselves to be middle and upper classed believe they are Americans, and rightfully so, but have we really arrived? Has real progress been achieved, or are we fooling ourselves to believe that because we have attained some bits of individual financial or political success that we have overcome? Do we earn as much as our white counterparts? Are our resources for education on par with that of the rest of society? Do we have businesses to bequeath to our children? Do gated communities keep our sons safe from people killing our sons? Do the laws punish them when they do? We are still socially subordinate, economically preyed upon and politically manipulated. Perhaps we need to do less believing in the system and more believing in ourselves.
Black Americans have forgotten the importance of self-reliance. We have become disconnected from our livelihood. We bought the hype. We fought for the right to have a seat at the table, but believe our contributions to be inferior, and we have paid the price. So quickly we leapt at the chance to attend white schools and allow latently racist pedagogies to mold the minds of our children, so quickly we seized our rights as Americans to attend the Vanderbilts, Yales and MITs that we abandoned the institutions that nourished our roots when we could barely write our names. Rather than be educated with a sense of the importance of preserving and contributing to our community, black people have participated in systems that have indoctrinated them into White supremacy. In an economy where blackness is dishonorable and anyone striving for respectability is taught to distance themselves from black culture, there can be no ethic of self-reliance. We believe White companies are better to work for than black companies because they yield greater status and quicker return, white products are superior to black products because they are more readily accessible and black people can’t be trusted to create a quality product. Meanwhile, Black people remain the life’s blood of American capitalism, while Black labor and Black dollars leave the Black community with no return on investment.
There is little to celebrate, except perhaps America’s craftiness in shrouding her oldest sin in the guise of inclusion. A party hat feels more like a dunce cap, as I come to the realization that in many ways inclusion might just do the black community more harm than good. I fear it has made us all, President Obama included, tokens various institutions trot out as a ruse of amends made by America for its systematic and relentless abuse of black people from slavery to the present, without ever truly taking its foot off our necks. I’ll be waiting for equity, otherwise known as fairness, before I start dancing in the streets for progress and when I do, my party hat will be kente cloth, purchased from a third generation, black-owned business, who’s owner is part of a collective of black business owners in the nation. Perhaps it will be the result of a government initiative to establish black economic stability, or the outgrowth of a systematic push to revitalize HBCU’s and foster a spirit of communal cooperation. When I see sustained progress like this, then I will sit for a celebratory feast, and I’ll know it’s real when I am not asked to sit at the kiddy’s table.
I really like the passion that I can sense from this blog. It is obvious that you are not pleased with current or past circumstances for African Americans, and rightfully so. I especially appreciate your comment about black Americans forgetting about self-reliance, and because of this, so much is lost from such communities. I would like for this to be explored further in the context of Du Bois' book because I would really appreciate seeing where from Du Bois inspired this fiery of a post. From my reading, you, like Du Bois are displeased with Booker T. Washington's idea of African American assimilation instead of Du Bois' solidarity. This is a point worth mentioning, if that section of the book did in fact speak to you.
ReplyDeleteI really appreciate your truth-telling! I would even say that you opened my eyes to see the tendency for people in the African American community to be comfortable with “inclusion” instead of “demanding equity.” Yes, there are some African Americans who have come up in societal status; however, just as you recognize, are they really on equal grounds as their counterparts? Thanks for encouraging the pursuit for equal rights, as well as invoking the call back to “self-reliance.”
ReplyDeleteAlthough I can tell that Du Bois is laced in your thoughts throughout the entire post, I believe that acknowledging "The Souls of Black Folk" as a reference point in your writing might be beneficial. For anyone who is not in this course reading your blog, this would give them a resource that ties into the historical evidence that you provide throughout your writing, and it would also point to the relevance of his book in American society both then and now—especially since things have not changed since then.
Also, this response understandably seems to be a call for action to African Americans; however, what might be some actions that white Americans can take up as a means to see equality take place for all?
I greatly enjoyed reading your blog and felt that it provided a multitude of quotable phrase. Some of my immediate favorites include:
ReplyDelete"We are still socially subordinate, economically preyed upon and politically manipulated. Perhaps we need to do less believing in the system and more believing in ourselves."
and
"I’ll be waiting for equity, otherwise known as fairness, before I start dancing in the streets for progress and when I do, my party hat will be kente cloth, purchased from a third generation, black-owned business, who’s owner is part of a collective of black business owners in the nation."
That being said, I agree with my colleagues that a stronger presence of Dubois would only serve to heighten/strengthen your powerful discourse. You could tie in Dubois support for education and the ballot with your support for HBCUs and social contentment/subordination.
Also I would like to have heard from you further about how you see yourself within this context. Is the fact that you attend Vanderbilt with a fellowship speak to a double-conciousness? Further, in reference to the kente cloth comment, do you feel a drive to give back to the African American community because of cultural responsibility/duty as a sign of support?