I’ve been thinking about the costs and the processes of getting to unity of late. In a political moment when our nation continues to grapple with police brutality as well as the fall of Bill Cosby from grace– I wonder how we become unified and maintain unity. The simplest form of unity I often observe comes from folks who take a singular social identity and coalesce around its significance for power. For example, someone who is staunchly Black nationalist or Communist will see the aforementioned issues and stress the role of White media in besmirching a Black patriarch or the continued imposition of the state’s power (the enforcer of capitalism) over oppressed (minority) peoples. Either way, the emphasis as on a singularity of issue makes for neat solutions and resolutions around what is being faced and possible responses. As the Last Poets said, “I can’t dig them actions.”

The more seriously I consider the things that are affecting our communities, the more an intersectional framework matters to how I think about its roots and possible responses. Many moons ago, Jelani Cobb wrote (and I paraphrase) that Black folks are no more or no less unified or dysfunctional than any other group of folks on this earth. I believed it when it he wrote it and believe it now. The catch is we can, like all people, become seduced by reductionist thinking. Whether its at a mass march where we start chanting and yelling, “hands up! don’t shoot!” in the face of an unrepentant police force or double clicking a meme on Instagram that suggesting our brothers and sisters are being distracted by the hot topic rather than thinking through politics–quick responses are valued, but they’re not what’s needed. Instead, I see folks like Imani Perry, Tamara Nopper, and Eddie Glaude raise questions (they’re on social media twitter – you should follow them) that make you think about what you intend to accomplish? What are the means? What are likely to the ends? Their questions make people uncomfortable and rightfully so. Too much emphasis on unity of action without complexity of thought is why moments that could be movements often just remain flashpoints (well that and COINTELPRO ain’t too shabby at killing stuff).

For more than 4 months there has been an emerging national dialogue about police violence–one that people have been working on having for years, but this moment was the time that it ripened and expanded. In this moment we have to do things that keep people engaged, but even more so, we’ve got to ask–Why are you here? If you believe Black lives matter, who does not? Which Black lives matter? Does the trans sister in Chicago who is sexually assaulted by a member of her family get covered? Does the conservative brother who stands with NYPD receive your cover? If the government fails to respond to what we demand, what will we do? Are we really demanding the same thing? Are you talking reform or revolution? Which type of revolution are you talking? These may seem to show where we disagree but only by grappling with them will we have a unity worth fighting for, claiming and living with.

Sorry, this image was hilarious to me.

I didn’t really begin to grapple with my privilege as a Black man until I was a student in Beverly Guy-Sheftall’s class on Black Feminism at Spelman College. I can remember rebutting each point she made about the Million Man March (MMM) as an extension of patriarchy, heteronormativity, and an attempt to further embed misogyny. Besides being a slew of words I didn’t fully understand, I could not understand why she fixated on all the “negatives” of the March. In the class, she essentially argued the MMM because of the patriarchy, etc. she could not support it and thus thought it held little value. By the time I landed in her class I was a senior at Morehouse and certainly had come to believe the MMM was one of the most transformative events I’d ever personally experienced and I refused to have the event mischaracterized.

I paraphrase, but I told her, “Yes, it does ask men to come back into the family, but it doesn’t always mean that have to be at the head. I know some talked about being at the head of the household, but not everyone believed that. We didn’t invite sisters because it was our time as Black men to redefine our commitment to the Black family and Black community.” I wanted to her to see the value of the event beyond her points. She let me finish and sagely replied, “It must be a nice privilege to tell someone to overlook the oppressive elements of a program, because it was helpful to you.” My face fell, my mouth shut, and I  sat sheepishly quiet. My head spun between realization, frustration, and confusion. For the next few classes, I sat quietly and tried to figure out how I had not “seen it coming.” I realized that the lesson I had learned on the athletic field so many times applied to social justice work, “sometimes you got to get the wind knocked out of you to bring you back to earth.”Guy-Sheftall had pointed out what I’d seen done so many times but by those who came from outside of a community to do social justice work in my community. Someone(s) coming from the outside, declaring themselves an ally and expert and overlooking the view of those who were subject to the oppression in favor of their own perspective.

The blind spots I exhibited in my conversation with Dr. Guy-Sheftall were not limited to the Million Man March and helped me to begin to grapple with other blind spots in areas of class, gender, race, sexuality, ability, and the list goes on. While I often stand with my brothers and sisters in justice struggles, I have to equally recognize when I’m standing in front of them rather than by their side of behind them. Unfortunately too few of us who are committed to social justice do this. Over the past few months I’ve had a number of conversations on my standpoint around social justice on twitter, but 140 characters of social media is too short to begin to do it justice (pun intended). About a year and half ago, I was speaking with a friend who identifies as a Black feminist and we were discussing Black feminism and the role of men. I told her I did not identify as a feminist for a number of reasons: first, I respected that many feminists had argued men could not be feminist because of our inability to completely overcome our gender privilege and stop our contribution to oppression. Second, many of the men that I’ve known who publicly identified as feminist behind closed doors used it to their advantage to carry out the same practices we critiqued as patriarchal and misogynist. Third, men who identify as feminist tended to treat it as an ascribed and static status, which meant that brothers often suggested because they could quote bell hooks or had participated in enough campaigns, circles, or conversations they had arrived at plateau, to which others must ascend. The third reason is the most crucial, we spend far too much time labeling our ideologies and activism and treating them as perfected statuses. In reality, a commitment to social justice work is constantly tested, re-evaluated, and iterative. Too often we stand on and assign labels (e.g. conscious, feminist, anti-racist, etc.) rather than doing the work that these labels imply and expanding these from labels to ideologies and actions which effectively expands their reach.

I tend to prefer to be known as an ally when working against oppression but still oppressing. To me, being an ally is about much more than advocacy on behalf of a group or interests that may not, on their face, appear to be your own. Being an ally is about a commitment to social justice grounded in an understanding of one’s self. To me, the most important element to allyhood is the ability requirement of reflexivity. First, we must interrogate our own privilege and power. Second, an ally must listen carefully to the conditions and needs of the group or individuals they are attempting to align with and define his or her work from there. Third, we must become comfortable with outsider status. It’s perfectly fine to not have full ownership of a struggle, in fact no one expects you to be a perfect proxy, but you are expected to hold your own. Fourth, we must be comfortable with being wrong and getting pushed to rethink our beliefs. Being committed to a thing does not mean you see all sides of it. We must be open to being challenged for the better. From this point, an ally can begin the work of advocating and more importantly supporting the efforts of others and themselves. If you believe in social justice work, you realize that being an ally to a cause that you don’t see “directly” affecting your life is still intimately tied to other interlocking forms of oppression. As bell hooks eloquently said:

“Feminism is not simple a struggle to end male chauvinism or a movement to ensure that women have equal rights with men; It is a commitment to eradicating the ideology of domination that permeates Western culture on various levels- sex, race, class, to name a few – and a commitment to reorganizing U.S. society so that the self- development of people can take precedence over imperialism, economic expansion and material desires.”

The reality is that the forms of oppression are related so working on them simultaneously is necessary. Of course there are issues that I have a greater commitment to, as do all of us, but through mutual support our power grows exponentially.There is no perfect formula for being an ally but those are things that I think of when engaging social justice work.

“Kunta Kinte shirt? Check! Obama button? Check! Public Enemy’s “Brothas gonna work it out” banging in the ipod? Check! Time to hit the line! YEEEEEAAAAHHH DADDY!!”

“Yes we did!!! ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!!! All hail the New Chief.”

“Have we seen the promised land?”

“He looks like me.”

“Dumi- Yes we can!! Look what interracial marriage can produce!! Yes I – we can!!!”

“Unfucking believable!! You better party it up, reality’s gonna hit us in about a day, LOL”

“Brother President!”

“Just saw a woman catch the holy ghost in the middle of Michigan Avenue.”

“Congrats Bro, tomorrow we wake up to a better day.”

“First Tiger, then Halle, now this! They like us!”

“Since they wouldn’t give us 40 acres and a mule, we’ll take fifty states and the White House.”

“We did it!! I was moved to tears… it happened in MY lifetime… and though I don’t agree with all his policy, I do see the bigger picture…”

“Sweet dreams and realities to you!”

“Please tell me why i just saw a Black woman with a rhinestone Obama shirt and booty shorts, flying outside the moon roof booty poppin'”

“Brother Dumi WE ARE OFFICIALLY FREE, much love.”

“They have a sign up sheet for volunteers to help Bush pack his shit and get the hell on Nov 5th. I put us down for the 3-8 shift.”

“I predict Michell Obama will announce her 3rd pregnancy three months from last night! Lol”

“I’m waiting for [identity removed] to birth a monkey out his ass to honor his promise he made in November 2007 that American would never elect a Black President.”

“Change is here! We are the ones we have been waiting for!”

“My pres is Black and so am I. I now am a man of two nations as opposed to the lost child of one. Both of my nations need me. Barack’s electon is a green light and I’m ready to go right now!”

Wouldn’t you like more choice?

In coming to this decision, I realize that I have alienated myself from a large number of my friends, family and even colleagues, but there is a method to “my madness.” As a resident of New York, my vote for change comes in the form of a Black woman and Latina woman, the Green Party’s Cynthia McKinney and Rosa Clemente. For the past year, McKinney and Clemente have campaigned feverishly, which to many has appeared to be futile. They are seldom in the same venues as the mainstream candidates; you’re more likely to see them on C-Span than the cable news channels, and they have failed to gain the attention that Ralph Nader did with his Green Party campaign in 2000. But even with these factors, my vote is still valuable to changing the landscape of American politics.

If you have stayed with me this long, I’m sure you’re wondering why I would “throw away” my vote to two candidates that most people don’t know. The simple answer is I’m going Green because I believe democracy must have more than two faces.

My New York residency provides me both security and luxury. It is from this position that I decided a vote for the Green Party could serve to expand the political spectrum beyond the two party system to which we’ve become so accustomed. New York is a decidedly Blue state, which continues to poll heavily in favor of Obama. This means that my vote for Obama on the 4th will likely provide no extra push in the Electoral College; it would just increase his numbers in the popular vote. Having watched elections results the past couple of years, I’ve grown to lament the Electoral College, but I’ve come to the conclusion that if I am going to play the game of American politics, I must play it wisely. If the Green Party can receive 5 percent of the popular vote this election, they are eligible to receive major party status, which would help them build a third party with the potential to influence national politics. My vote however is not simply because I want any third party to spring up on the scene. The ticket of McKinney and Clemente comes closest to my own political roots and desires. The Green party chose two women, one with legislative experience and the other with grass roots experience. These women share many of my views on war, education, healthcare, and poverty alleviation. I have been taught that I should vote with my ideals, but this is seldom an option if one’s goal is to be a part of the “winning team” in American politics. Now is a time for Left-leaning, justice-oriented advocates to vote with their ideals and achieve victory on multiple levels. While this election is pitched as a zero-sum game, all or nothing, there is a third option, particularly for those of us in decidedly Blue or Red states.

I’m going green because since the 1980s Black Americans have been concerned that the Democratic Party has been moving towards the center and betraying many of the critical programs that are necessary for uplifting our community. I grew up in a working class family that has benefited from Affirmative Action, unionization, and the safety nets of social welfare. I continue to fight for the ideals of the poor and disenfranchised, but know that a single politician cannot and will not transform the landscape of America.  In voting in the past, I’ve gotten to the booth and consistently voted Democratic in national elections because I feared losing. In 2000, I lost. In 2004, I lost. In 2008, I want to win. Not just by electing the first president who acknowledges his African descent, but win by being true to my ideals and the ideals of democracy. While I know 5 percent is lofty, and likely out of reach, I think it is just as important to vote for my ideals, which helps to push towards diversification of the political machine that has been broken for far too long. On November 4th, I’m going green because democracy must have more than two choices. I don’t want the next generation to arrive at the voter’s booth and think, “It is time to pick my poison.” Rather I want them to arrive and think, “It is time for me to pick my prescription.”