Uptown Notes

This morning I woke to #RIPBIGPUN as a trending topic on twitter and was conflicted about bigging up Pun. Pun […]

Today’s BHC (Black History-Contemporary) speaks to the position of Women, leadership, and racial uplift. Undoutedbly we are accustomed to hearing Black HIStory but there […]

This is my reflection on Ujima: Collective Work and Responsibility For more than a year, I’ve entertained way too many […]

I just watched Precious, Lee Daniel’s film based on the novel Push by Sapphire, and the only way I can find to describe it is extraordinary in the superlative and literal sense. Extraordinary, in the superlative sense, for its craftsmanship in visually and textually telling a narrative of the composite character Precious. It is extra-ordinary (beyond ordinary), in the literal sense, in that it concentrates on a particular set of lives ravished by sexual abuse, physical abuse, and poverty. This is not the tale of all in poverty, but it is a tale that exists.

Dear Old Morehouse,

I’ve been trying to avoid writing this for some time now. As an alumnus of the institution, it’s hard for me to see you in such condition. Many of my fellow alumni complained of your disrepair and your besmirched image when they heard about students being beaten for their sexuality, shooters graduating, and cross-dressing, but I have got bigger concerns. While all these things mattered to me, they did not disturb me because of what was being done to the image of our institution, they disturbed me because they demonstrated that Dear Old Morehouse was terribly unequipped to deal with the realities and lives that Black men in America live now. In fact, it is the Old Morehouse that is more dangerous to me than any student with a gun, sagged pants, or high heels would ever be to me. Let me explain.

For the past few weeks I’ve remained unsettled by the videotape of Derrion Albert’s death at the hands of Black youth in Chicago. Like many, I avoided the tape for days on end, only to finally watch it in horror, with pain, and without direct recourse. This feeling of paralysis that many of us have felt is not one that is new to our community, whether it was the viewing of Emmett Till’s body in Jet or the railroading of the Central Park Five, the loss and defilement of Black male life at the hands of those Black, White or other remains sickening.

We, the concerned, the tired, and the committed have a rare opportunity to join not just in frustration, but in production. This week, at the Think Tank for African American Progress' meeting in Memphis, Tennessee entitled: "What is the future of Black Boys?" While the media, and by admission in many of our community, suggest there is little being done to combat the conditions that black male youth face, there is work, there is opportunity, and there is the need for your voice and energy.

One of my favorite portions of Assata are the verses interspersed. In honor of our great freedom fighter Assata Shakur […]

We remain in a moment where people are beginning to realize that the election of Barack Obama does not mean a Black political agenda, one in which race is central, will continue to be pushed into the public sphere. So the question becomes, who advances the concerns of the faces at the bottom of the well?

I spend most days in the classroom teaching on issues of race, social class, mobility and opportunity. The discussions I have always intrigue me, particularly because most of my students are people of color from working class backgrounds. After listening and reading, I’m beginning to think the belief that anything is possible, clouds us from seeing what is probable. I say this not to be a pessimist, rather because I wonder what the line between naivete and willful denial of reality is. And if there are or what are the consequences for this thinning line for our people.

Last weekend, at the Malcolm X Grassroots Unity Brunch one of the topics covered was violence against LGBTQ people of color. I think it was Kenyon Farrow who mentioned the suicides of Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover and Jaheem Herrera who are both Black boys who recently committed suicide because of peer bullying and hatred. Jewel Woods, of the Renaissance Male Project, writes a clear indictment of the ways that our schools allow torture and why boys of color are particularly at risk. What can we do to prevent torture in our schools and ensure a safe and whole development for all our children.