I Never Forget

Chris Matthews forgot Barack Obama was a black man.

I never forget.

I never forget he's black, I never forget I'm black and I never forget that 88 percent of Americans are not.

I don't care how well a white dude articulates my thoughts on a topic, I don't forget they're white. Tim Wise is a beast on racial matters, but I never forget his skin color. Robin Thicke can sing like a brotha, but I don't forget he ain't.

Is that a personal failing?

Increasingly, we are being told that if you can't shake off the shackles of race, you are a dinosaur in post-racial America. And like all dinosaurs, you are destined for extinction. "Colorblind" is the buzzword of the hip, and those of us refusing to embrace a monochromatic future are guilty of holding up progress.

Sorry, I can't catch that train.

It's not just that I'm stubborn, although my wife would tell you that I am. It's not that I love my victim status, truthfully I've been repeatedly blessed by God throughout my life so it's impossible for me to be a true victim. No, I refuse to do away with race, because nobody has proven to me that becoming "colorblind" is a viable and better alternative.

The people who claim to be colorblind still show a preference for particular hues. The post-racial partisans seem to remember race quite easily when pressed. Claiming not to see color seems to be a smokescreen to distract folks from the evil these people do in the name of color.

I'm not calling Chris Matthews evil, Lord knows I'm not. I think I understand what he was trying to say. Basically, Obama touched him so deeply that Matthews forgot about the messenger and just accepted the message. I get it. He was moved, he was impressed, he was in the moment.

I just ain't built like that.




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Why Us?

Many of y'all have probably seen this recent story about this young cat in Pittsburgh who appears to have been beaten horribly by police while walking home one night. The story, which features a black viola player, has been on the national news and black websites.

Police brutality is nothing new, and regular readers of the blog know I write about it frequently. And I write about it frequently because it's an issue dear to my heart, and because it happens way too often.

That said, I've noticed that all the blogs I've written about police brutality, and the stories I've heard about it have one thing in common. They don't involve white victims.

Seriously, in my line of work I get a lot of complaints about the police. Some from black folks, some from white folks. Yet, I've never had a white family call me and ask me to talk to their son or daughter whose face was swollen and bruised from a beating. I've seen plenty of black folks who look like that, but never any white victims.

So, I'm wondering "Why us?"

That question is semi-rhetorical. Obviously, I have a lot of opinions on why black folks regularly get abused by the police. Regular readers of the blog are familiar with those opinions. But, I've noticed that whenever black folks allege police brutality, there are certain folks who refuse to believe, even in the face of evidence. These folks assume that either the black folks are lying, or that we did something to provoke the police to start wielding those batons.

And, once again, that begs the question, "Why us?"

I mean, why are black folks the only ones who provoke the police consistently? Is there some special gene that makes black folks seek out butt-whippings from cops? Are we trying to get closer to our slave ancestors? Do we just crave the feel of contusions and lacerations?

Seriously, do the people brush off all the fuss about police brutality ever wonder why only black people show up with swollen faces on the nightly news? Even if they truly believe that black people are just slightly civilized killer apes, they must understand that the law of averages dictates that some white folks should get brutalized occasionally. There are more white folks in the country, they commit more crimes, and everybody knows the news media loves running stories about white victims. Yet, when was the last time you ever saw a white person looking like they just went 12 rounds with Money Mayweather on the broadcast news? I'll bet you can't remember.

It just seems curious to me, and I'm shocked it doesn't seem curious to more folks. What is the white man's secret to avoiding these butt-whippings? I've talked to white folks, and they are often disrespectful of authority, and they often participate in illegal activity. Yet they still avoid getting beaten.

They should teach a class on this stuff. Lord knows black folks could use it.




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The Games We Play

I promised myself I wouldn't do this, but I feel compelled.

Saints' mania has infected the city of New Orleans with the team's first ever trip to Super Bowl on the horizon. "Black and gold to the Super Bowl" is the rallying cry for the team and city, and it seems that Who Dat Nation has swelled in size overnight.

The unofficial Saints pep song, a remix of a Ying Yang Twins crunk classic, has been banging on the radio for days. Folks are lining up to purchase newspapers from the day after the Saints won their NFC Championship games. I'm pretty sure hotels in Miami are experiencing an amazing rush, and the Saints are the topic of conversation in every coffee shop and eatery in the region.

And, I can't help but wonder, why?

Look, I'm not trying to be holier-than-thou wet blanket in this whole exercise, but I can't shake the fact that something is wrong with this picture. People are crying in the streets, they want to remember the day for posterity, they are spending hundreds of dollars in a recession, and it's all because a corporation won a contest? Weird.

Notice how I worded that, "a corporation won a contest." That's what professional sports boils down to at its most basic level. Corporation doing battle with other corporation in regularly scheduled contests. It's like cheering for a hostile takeover, only if the takeover happened on television and didn't make you any money. Professional sports have no tangible benefit for society as a whole, yet some of us care about them more than we care about general elections. True, elections typically don't solve problems, but neither do Super Bowl victories.

I've only talked about these feelings with a few folks because voicing this type of sentiment in New Orleans right now is a good way to get looked at like an idiot. Plus, I'm not sure if I really have a valid point. As a few friends pointed out, it's good to have a distraction, something to rally around and support that makes us feel good even if we still have issues. A good friend from college compared it to celebrating the Fourth of July in the 'hood. Yeah, the American Dream might be a pipe dream in many poor neighborhoods for the entire year, but when the barbecue and fireworks start flowing, it's a lot easier to forget that fact.

I saw something on PBS the other day about the ability of human beings to adapt to adverse conditions and actually make themselves happy, even when the situation appears to dictate depression. It sprang to mind when I tried to dissect why it is people in a town as screwed up as my own can find so much joy in the accomplishments of a corporation that provides no tangible benefit to their lives. As some folks have said in interviews, when things are so horrible around you, you cling to whatever good news you can find, and use that for motivation and happiness.

I guess it's a matter of opinion whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. Part of me wants to lash out at those folks who can find all this energy to cheer on a bunch of strangers, but can't be bothered to go to parent-teacher conferences for their kids, or sit down and go over algebra homework. I get more than pissed when I see how the Saints success is being spun as some sort of proof of New Orleans' revival after Katrina. Didn't this Saints team openly flirt with San Antonio immediately after the storm and only decide to stay in the state after receiving massive payments from the Louisiana taxpayers?

But, a part of me understands that people need distractions. Sure, those distractions can turn into a detriment, but that doesn't mean the solution is eliminating them completely. Just like with everything else in life, perspective is important. If loving the Saints gives folks the strength they need to keep moving in a city that appears stuck in neutral, then who am I to judge? How can I tell folks what types of mental games they should play to make their lives bearable? How can I deny them something that allows them to escape their lives of quiet desperation, if only for a few hours?

I'm not sure I have the right to deny people that, so I'll continue to keep my mouth shut when folks are proclaiming their love for every single "Who Dat".


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Black and Gold, To The Superbowl

I swore off football two years because I was disturbed by the effect the violence of the game has on players' bodies, and I was angry at my hometown New Orleans Saints' flirtation with another city following Hurricane Katrina.

But, with the improbable and amazing Super Bowl run of the Saints this year, I watched my first full game in a long time last night. I know that makes me a traitor to my ideals, but dammit I already told y'all I'm weak. And guess what, it was worth it even if I think we as a society invest far too much energy into professional sports.

Anyway, since I don't have anything profound to say right now, I'll just say this:


Who Dat say dey gon' beat dem Saints?

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