D.S. Brown Goes
To The
Inauguration

Chapter 2
January 6th

On Monday, January 5^th Governor Bill Richardson withdrew his nomination as Commerce Secretary.  I had watched Governor Richardson during the democratic campaign as he debated Obama and Clinton.  As I observed the man, it became quite clear that he is a shrewd politician, indeed a bright man.  Unfortunately, as so often happens in the pursuit of wealth and power, as well as growth and change, lines can become blurred.  I don’t know the specifics of Governor Richardson’s situation, the ethics or the legalities.  I will assume that all he has worked for, all he has struggled to achieve, was for the good of his constituents, and for himself to an appropriate degree.  What I will not assume is that his position had quickly become politically untenable.   This we know to be a fact.  He was now the subject of a government probe.  What was being investigated?  His dealings with several business interests were being questioned.  So, the Governor did the right thing.  He bowed out. 

I considered this first from a practical and rational perspective, as I should, as a person striving to be a relevant component in his country’s political process.  Then, because I’m only human, I considered the situation from a more personal perspective.

How did I view it? 

Well, I smiled as I considered it, and thought of this as nothing more than another challenge in a long line of forthcoming challenges for the nation’s first African-American President.  I don’t say this to imply that any other President-Elect would not have the same challenges, clearly they would, given our country’s current circumstances.  As an African-American I’m simply speaking about something many of us consider germane to our particular ethnicity’s American experience.   It is something we have heard time and time again, have often ignored, to our own detriment, but when understood and faced effectively, the challenge only served to make a better person, a better American.

Please, allow me a moment … a pause, so to speak, to ponder.  

As I’ve allowed my mind to journey down this fantastical road of fantasy turned reality, there have been many moments when I squinted as I journeyed, when my eyebrows furrowed and I strained my eyes.  I worked hard, very hard to see that which seemed so far away.  

I looked down this metaphorical mental rode and saw him, there he was, a man.  I saw a man destined to be President.  What was even more intriguing was seeing this man in my future, in all our futures.  As I stared, I realized I knew who he was.  I recognized him from his current job.  I recalled how he had wowed the world at the National Democratic Convention.  I was intrigued by the fact that he looked so much like me … at least in terms of close-cropped hair and skin complexion. 

Wow, what a thing!

Now, of course, there will be many, so very many  … those that will look at my words sideways, frown slightly, and perhaps sigh heavily.  You will look at my words and say, SO WHAT? 

My friends, not to be crass … well, I’ll be crass anyway because I must.  Understand that this entire event, this entire historic happening resonates with me, within me, around me, it changes things.  It’s humbling and uplifting at the same time.  So, if you say so what, then you obviously JUST DON’T GET IT! 

Those of you that sigh and roll your eyes at the mention of blackness, please stop and think.  Consider the weight of the moment.  This is indeed powerful.  If fate be a great and wondrous thing for the common good then this event is even more powerful than we can imagine.  The repercussions will impact generations.  It is history, yes, but it is more than just simple history.   It is a paradigm shift in world perspective.  For me, critical thinking, aspiring, hopeful, a proud American named D.S. Brown, this is very, very personal.  It means so much.

Yes, Billy withdrew his nomination for Commerce Secretary, took his hat out of the circle.  And yes I called this just one of many upcoming challenges for the black man in charge.  But WOW.  I mean WOW!  The black man is in charge of this thing!  He’s actually in charge!

Man, ain’t that somethin’? 

Here’s the honest truth.  The job of leading this nation is challenging, and will forever be challenging for any worthy man, and one day soon I predict, any worthy woman.  The mantle of leadership is quite the burden to bear.  Heavy is the brow that wears the crown, my friends.  It’s very heavy, indeed.  

            Still, I feel the need to go a little further.  Bear with me.  This is my continuing attempt to explain what I’m feeling.  Allow me to wax a little about the challenges of being an African-American male. 

Understand, there are those who still don’t comprehend.  There are those who just don’t get it.  They have never had a need to be sympathetic, or empathetic around this particular issue.  Still, some can, and many do, rationalize.  They can understand the situation logically, not as we see it, but better yet as we actually live it, mentally forming a vivid simulation in their mind of what it might possibly be like to walk a mile in my shoes.  Critical Cognition, truly thinking, questioning, and considering allows one to form just such a mental construct; to acknowledge the things that separate us, to find common ground, achieve empathy, and tolerance, and eventually love and full acceptance. 

I strive to explain it.  This is what I’ve committed myself to doing whenever the need arises.  It’s not just being black, my friends.  It’s being black and American.  It’s being African-American and male.  When I speak to young black men in America I often tell them they are at the bottom of the human barrel.  They are considered the least of men, less then boys in some eyes, little more than trained animals.  Please, don’t jump to conclusions.  Stop and consider my words for just a moment.

This … hurts.  

Many get angry when I say such things.  Some look at me as though I had a crack-pipe glued to my bottom lip and was constantly on blow, suck, blow, blow, cough, suck, no-pass.  Some simply look at me sadly and wonder. 

They question. 

Some outright dismiss.  A few, yes sometimes a few, with their eyes narrow, indulge anger, hot heat from resentment and fury threatens to engulf their young minds.  Their hands form fists as they process a perceived insult.  For a brief moment, no more than a second, the heat in their eyes meets my own.  They see in me the hard strength necessary to turn their heat aside, to strike them down as I enforce discipline, and then readily lift them back up again.  This cools the heat, simmers the brow, as the fog of youthful burgeoning hate is dissipated, and the mind opens.  Then, only then, do I begin.  They sit still.  Their eyes wide open, ready, there they remain … and they listen.  If they remain still, and open, I know there is hope, that even the hardest among them simply seeks real and true understanding.   

            I speak to them.  They don’t quite get it at first, but still they listen.

            So, what do I mean?  What do I say?  Why do I tell these young men, these young black men, that we are considered the least among men?  I tell them it is a matter of observation, perspective, stereotypes, and generalizations.  I take the time to explain these words to them, in case they don’t understand.  I let them use the words.  I get them engaged in the conversation, in the pain that I too feel, just as they feel.  I tell them that the whole world listens to American Rap and thinks it’s okay to call us niggers.  I tell them that when far too many of us enter into serious conversation and can’t pull ourselves away from ebonicized ghetto-speak, we lose stature in the eyes of others.  I tell them when statistics show that we are more likely to go to prison than to college, an expectation is being set in the minds of others, as well as ourselves.   I tell them that for each step they make, for each goal they achieve, they need to be doing it cleaner, and better than all the rest.  The excuse, well the white guy can get away with it, is asinine and spoonish in the extreme.  It is not a valid excuse.  There is no valid excuse.  I tell them they should aspire to be the best they can be.  I tell them they should not live their lives in comparison to others, save where it is healthy and wholesome to do so as part of a conscious positive effort towards self-improvement.  I tell them to not put strong belief in some generational learning gap or cultural divide.  I tell them to forever let go of the belief that some MAN is holding them back.  I tell them that as living breathing human beings they owe it to their very existence as living creatures in this wondrous world to realize their own full potential.  I tell that them that even if they fail, they need to pick themselves up and try again.  Their objective should always be to be the brightest, the leader, the champion. 

I tell them these necessary personal mandates, and they listen. 

I reiterate that it is indeed a matter of perspective.  I continue by explaining that we are not viewed as the lowest of the low by all the peoples of the world.  There are many people of all types of ethnicities who don’t see us in this negative light, who will not judge us based on the merits of a song (or lack thereof), that bitch, ho, nigga, dizzle, yayo, pipe, dollahs, whips, steak and shrimp and driving six-figure priced exotic cars through the ghetto don’t factor into their mental calculus as the result of a given human being, or how one is to be perceived, not by external factors, but rather by the merits of the man himself. 

Unfortunately, some do allow these external factors to interfere with their mental processes, to skew their perceptions, to jade their thoughts, and relegate a black man to the bottom, animal status, metaphor for … a baboon.  I recall when a really nice Asian lady on my job, who we all considered to be a good friend, told a few of us black folks that she had never known black people were smart, at least not American blacks.  She told us that real Africans were different.  She had met quite a few.  She had always thought they were better and smarter.  Now, she knew different.  We were stunned into silence.  She said this with a matter-of-fact tone, completely absent of malice.  It was an awful and amazing thing to hear.  In her estimation, based on what she had once heard, none of us were considered smart, not the women, but most certainly not the men.  You can program? You know what a computer actually is, and how it works?

Or, consider the story Oprah told of her travels, and what happened while visiting with dignitaries in Africa, how she was greeted with a hearty “Wazzup, my Nigga!”  It is a different sort of example, but still a valid example.  There are filters that people employ, there are perspectives, an image is being projected, and a low expectation is being set.  We must all work to change this. 

            Then, there is Barack Hussein Obama.

            He shatters stereotypes.  He puts the lie to generalizations.  He reminds the world that black men in America are indeed achievers.  Still, this only goes so far.  His historic accomplishment is an accomplishment for all Americans, but it is still his.  African-American men need to use it as an example, as fuel to propel us forward on the road of progress, with each step getting firmer, stronger, gathering others to the cause, as we black men step confidently towards prosperity.  We need to believe we can achieve, and push to be the very best. 

            We African-American men often jokingly talk about how it’s always harder for the black man.  This is not true in every situation.  However, there are times when it can, and most emphatically does still apply.  A black man can get a job first, based on some perhaps unwritten corporate mandate, and then be the first one fired.  He may definitely deserve to be fired, if he did not go in prepared, working to be the very best he can be.  Termination may very well be exactly what he deserves.  However, we black men have seen, and still believe that we can, achieve just as much if not more than any other well-meaning, hard-working, prosperous ethnicity in the workplace.  However, those of us that succeed always recognize the fact that even if no one tells us to be twice as good as the competition, being twice as good in some eyes, just barely makes us equal.  Take this not as a justifiable generalization, but rather a justifiable truth in some situations.  One who is thinking, who is observant, who is aware of his circumstance and bent on achieving critical success will know when such a situation is valid and real. 

Thankfully, some see us, and acknowledge the time and effort we must put in just to be considered.  Thankfully, there are others in power that are on a personal diversity journey of discovery, and can see us black men as we push with everything we have in order to achieve.  These individuals who are learning to value diversity, lean into discomfort, and remove mental filters can and do readily acknowledge the fact that there is indeed a struggle.  They understand that it is a struggle they can never fully know, or experience personally, but can definitely understand rationally, and with care and concern, show empathy.  In their eyes, we may even be … stellar. 

            Barack Hussein Obama is indeed stellar.  Still, my friends and I joke about how hard it is for the man.  He’s inheriting an economic disaster, a war on two-fronts (always a possible disaster waiting to implode, explode, just get totally out of control), escalating conflicts around the globe, and scandals at home.  Governor Richardson is stepping aside in order to limit the spread of scandal.  There will be more.  And so, I close out this day thinking about … oh woe is us, oh woe is us, the burden of the black man is so, so great.

            Then … I laugh.

            The burden of any hard-working, well-meaning, success-seeking man is great.  The burden of any hard-working, well-meaning, success-seeking woman is great.  Our burdens are ours, personal, painful, joy at the success of overcoming.  Burdens break us back, wear us down, and strike us swiftly and unmercifully.  Yet, they temper us, like steel.  If we have the courage to bear the weight, to shift burdens when appropriate, to think, and then act, then even as we lament the burden of our position, the burden of our ethnicity, the burdens of our lives, we can stop as we walk down the road to progress, down the road to wisdom.  We can stop, look back at our burdens, and smile.

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