Marching In Place

Here in Sacramento, there is a MLK march every year. Hundreds of people line up at a designated place and march to a second destination in order to commemorate the freedom marches of their predecessors. There's chanting, singing, and communing. I'm sure it's probably a beautiful thing. However, I can only guess since I don't march. Historically, marching had its place. It signified unity of thought AND action amongst black people who were in a struggle to be granted their civil rights as listed in the Constitution of this great nation. And even though people march today as a respresentation of the marches of the past, there is one very distinct difference; our forefathers marched and then went to work on a course of action while we march today then head over to the nearest IHOP for some pork and pancakes.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against marching in general. I just believe it's useless if the work ends once the walk is complete. A march should serve as a type of pep rally. It's a way to get everyone involved on the same page and show the public the one-mindedness of the mission. But after the march is over, the mission must begin. For the past two King holidays I have engaged in community service. While I do make effort to serve throughout the year in various ways, I've made a commmitment to serve on the King holiday in light of the sacrifices made for my well being and prosperity as a black American. I believe this should be an effort on the part of all people with particular responsiblity resting on the shoulders of black folks who are the direct recipients of the benefits created by the shedding of blood and other human suffering on the part of our ancestors. As a result of my fairly new commitment, I get up early on the holiday and march out of my house and on to a community center or other service related hub in order to do some work that will directly impact those in my city who are in need. I usually don't have to give up more than four hours of my day and when I'm done, I'm still able to march, should I feel so inclined. The sacrifices made on my behalf don't enable me to sleep in or spend the day on my couch catchng up on the lost episodes of my favorite show. Those before me got up early and worked late to put me in the position to live better than they ever thought possible. The least I can do is get out of step with the march in order to help someone who has fallen.

Harry Reid Between The Lines

So, we're only a few days in, and I'm already exhausted by the whole Harry Reid debaucle. I find that I'm one of few out of the black people I know who didn't find his comments offensive and don't find him to be a raging, hood wearing, card carrying, racist (Do they have even have membership cards?). And, while use of the word Negro, is a bit antiquated, I don't find it to be racist either. What Senator Reid did was something most white people seem afraid to do; he acknowledged the fact that there are many white people who judge black people based on skin tone and dialect. In the process, his comments incited fear, embarassment, and rage, most of which I see as misdirected, as usual.

I'm sure many of us have had some experience with a white person who seemed shocked and pleased with the fact that we were able to string some sentences together that made sense. This type of exchange can understandably leave one feeling more than incensed. A little over a year ago in my workplace, I had a meeting with my former director, who upon listening to me talk and reading the words I'd written in an email to him, thought he was doing me a favor by "complimenting" me on my ability to articulate thoughts and write concise prose. He wanted me to believe that he was pleased with my ability to communicate but I knew what he really meant. He was pleasantly surprised that he'd come across a black woman in my lowly position who had a more than proficient command of the English language. He was expressing his delight to find out that I do indeed speak well, read well, write well, and use both a knife and fork while eating. I didn't bother responding to him by saying I felt insulted, disrespected, and stereotyped because it wouldn't have done any good. He, like many other whites, was already deeply entrenched in the thought that black people are relatively simple-minded individuals who are good for little more than dribbling basketballs, making killer tackles, or singing and dancing like nobody's business. So yes, I know this frame of thinking exists, however, I don't believe that is the way Senator Reid was thinking when he made his comments.

Reid was taking a look at the way "his people" often think. He knew how comfortable many whites would feel with then Senator Obama and his white mother, fair skin, ivy league education, and expensive suits. He knew that for some, the closer Obama appeared to be like them, the more they'd be willing to support his campaign. Harry Reid wasn't disparaging candidate Obama. He was speaking the truth to which many whites and unfortunately, many blacks subscribe; fair-skinned black people who have little to no trace of "blackness" in their speech patterns are more palatable for the white world's taste. And, even though what he said wasn't pretty or pleasant, it was true and to me, should be the focus of our angst.

Instead of honing in on his use of the word Negro, we should be focusing our attention and energy towards the fact that in 2010 we are still being judged based on skin tone and the inferred absence of any real "blackness". White people judge us and we continue to judge ourselves within the black community by making the worst possible assumptions about our intellectual capabilities or lack thereof. Though I am not in the business of trying to change racist folks' minds, I believe we can change our own minds and attitudes the more we strive to elevate ourselves to new levels. It is up to us to create our own identity instead of falling prey to the premises of others who don't know a thing about us.

As we take ourselves to greater heights and encourage one another to succeed in more arenas than those of the sport and entertainment fields, we can set our standards high so there will no longer be shock when one comes across a literate "Negro". Instead, the surprise will come when one sees a black person who can't cut the mustard. When we change our expectations of ourselves, we no longer have to be concerned about what someone like Harry Reid has to say. Improvement comes from the inside and not vice versa.

It's Not So Hip To Be Square

I was never a 12 year old runaway or a juvenile delinquent resident of a group home. I didn't get pregnant at 16 and end up the mother of six by the age of 21. I don't have six fathers for those six babies either. I read much higher than a third grade level and I've never done any time. And though I consider myself to be pretty "normal", it seems there are little to no benefits to being a straight arrow.

In the past week or so, I've filled out several different pieces of paperwork in order to determine my eligibility for school financial aid. Four hours worth of forms later, I received an email advising me that I am not eligible for anything other than a ridiculously expensive student loan simply because I'm paid too much. Of course, the fact that I'm living paycheck to paycheck, paying all of my own bills, skimping on groceries (I'm getting a little tired of homemade soup), staying home in order to conserve gas, and doing all of these things on a furloughed income, is completely irrelevant to the government who administers the aid. They also seem to have no concern for the fact that I'm a taxpayer whose working dollars go toward paying money so that the woman with six babies and six different fathers can go to school in my place.

I just don't get it. How is it that it works to my detriment to be a responsible, intelligent, hard-working, well-read individual? Why is the fact that I haven't completely ruined my life with bad choices something that works against me when it comes to me trying to further improve the quality of my life? In all this, it truly seems as if my life would ultimately have been better had I done all the "wrong" things. There are grants for single women with a bunch of babies, grants for impoverished students living on the street due to running away, and aid for kids in foster care. And, please have no misunderstanding, I'm not saying that these people shouldn't have the opportunity to further their educations. As a matter of fact, I wish them well and love to see people rise above their adversity. However, I am saying that I work EVERY DAY. I pay taxes. I am responsible for myself and my actions. My life is not government funded and yet, when it is time for me to take advantage of the programs that I vote for and support with my tax dollars, I am turned down because my life isn't pathetic enough.

Where is the grant or scholarship for the woman who didn't get pregnant multiple times before her 18th birthday? Where is the reward for the person who made different life choices that didn't warrant assistance from welfare? Where are the food stamp cards for full time students who work part or full time consistently busting their butts to climb the success ladder? Where is the funding for the REGULAR? Each day I work to help some of the country's downtrodden better themselves. For the opportunity to help others, I am grateful. However, I'd be even more glad if the fact that this helper needs help was recognized.

There's An App For That

Since I've begun my efforts to take my educational goals to the next level by transferring to a university, I've found that there are more random and unecessary pieces of paper to fill out than I ever thought possible. A week ago, I met up with a school counselor to get some general information on enrollment and financial aid. The meeting was a simple process. I asked the questions, she provided the answers, I was sent an email with further details, and I was on my way home within an hour. Feeling good about myself and my choices, I decided to begin the "application process" as soon as I got home. Little did I know that the process would take me six hours spread out over three days.

By day two of the torturous application process, I started thinking about how much time we spend filling out slips, forms, applications, and all other silly wastes of trees. At work I have people fill out three different forms in order to get an employment ID card. To enter into the school I want to attend, I had to fill out online forms from three different websites totalling six hours of time I'll never be able to get back. Each time I go to the dentist, I have to fill out a form with the same information from the last time I was there. I can't understand why they don't just ask me if anything has changed while updating the system online.

For each thing we want to accomplish, just about each place we want to eat, the stores where we like to buy clothes, and even the schools where we are educated, there are endless forms. I wonder if there's a way to just fill out one big form that says everything that needs to be said. Businesses could all be linked to one informational network so they can pull up what they need and we could save the lives of millions of trees and save ourselves from endless hours of paperwork. I'd consider beginning the process to accomplish this, but there's probably an app for that too.