It's a Black Thing

Back in the 90s, after Spike Lee created and Denzel Washington channeled Malcolm X ( the movie he really should have garnered an Oscar), there was a surge of African American pride. It was a wonderful sight, refreshing actually to walk through the streets and see young men wearing hats and t-shirts emblazened with a simple "X". We all knew what it meant. And for once in a rare while in African American history, there was a collective pride, a collective sense of accomplishment, a collective love of self. The euphoria lasted a decade. Slowly fading, giving way to One World. What was once needed for revitalization was lost.

I, like many, took my t-shirts with my prideful slogans and collective understandings , folded them and locked them away.

"It's a Black Thing. You wouldn't understand".

"Black by Nature, PROUD by Choice".

" My mother made me a proud black man/woman. If you by her the yarn, she'll make you one too."

"By any means necessary"

"X"

"What would Malcolm do?"

Now the fire has been re-ignited. We have been reminded that we are a proud people. Yes, we have always had to be better than the competition to get the same position. Yes, we have always had to be smarter, better, cuter, more ,more, more...

President Elect Obama is the culmination of our collective perfection, our presentation to the American people. The paradox. Successful. Intelligent yet humble. Non threatening. President of the Harvard Law Review. Community Organizer. Father. Husband. Non controversial. White influence.

Even more than that, there was a story. We always have to have a story to give us an edge to overcome. His white mother left by a black man who Obama had only seen once or twice in his life. Family that he didn't see until was in his twenties. Food stamps. welfare. The sacrifices of white people for HIM. And he overcame. Another triumph.

If he can do it anyone can, right? Wrong. Statistics show that though there have been some improvements since the passing of the Civil Rights Act, we still have long way to go.

There was a conversation on a talk show the other day about how the president-elect has inspired black men all around the country. "They are pulling up their pants, shaving their dredlocs" , the speaker went on to say.

Shaving dreds? What does that have to do with anything? Do we need to talk about the differences between acceptance and assimilation? Why does a black man have to dress, look and behave like the majority ehtnicity in this country in order to be taken seriously?

When a young man wtih dredlocs (well kept and manicured) can walk into an office and not be viewed as a thug or a threat, then we will have acceptance. Acceptance says yes you are different, you don't look like us, your name is different, but you have a degree from Yale in Physics so welcome to the club.

Because the president-elect was welcomed to the club doesn't mean that the rest of us can line up at the door awaiting our invitation. Not all of us want to give up so much of our identities to be accepted into the club. Would you ask a green-eyed, red haired Scots-Irishman to wear blue contacts and dye his hair blonde to fit in? Nope, he just walks through the door as he is. So do most people of non-color.

Us black folks, we have been conditioned to feel as though we are not good enough as is. We cannot be comfortable in our own skin. Self-hatred runs through our veins, embedded in our DNA. The affects of slavery run deep. For some, the mental slavery still exists. Do you think really that Beyonce and Mary J Blige are really blonde with hair down to their butts? Poor demented Michael Jackson... enough said. Hot combs, relaxers, hair dyes, extension, weaves, press and curls. All done to make our hair like their hair. To reject what is natural for what is theirs.

Yes, I have not one but TWO doctorate degrees. I write. I teach. I am a wife, mother, friend, confidante. I am both a sister and a SUSTAH. I am a muslim.

I am many, many things to many people. Oh and yes, I have dredlocs. A long flowing often uncontrollable, mane that reaches from the crown of my head almost to the bottom of my hind end. They are more than 3 feet long. I have been asked, why don't I just cut them off, trim them up so that I can apply for a teaching position, a research position.

Why don't I just cut them so that I can look more "professional"?, they ask ad naseum. My response?

It's a black thing, you wouldn't understand.