Wednesday, February 10, 2021

Why is it always about Race?

Why is it always about Race? Why is this a reflex statement? What about the "thing" that creates that reflex? WHY IS IT ABOUT RACE? Is this just a contemplative inquiry? Ironically, the black man asks that too. 

To do an internet search for the best actors and actresses of the 1970s, only one African American person shows up within the first 20; that one person was Cicely Tyson. Why? Were there no recognized talented thespians within the Race? Were not we given key roles, same casting opportunities, and treated equally? Why is it always about Race. How about searching for the best businessmen and women? What do you think the result was? ...Were not there recognized talented businesspeople within the Race. Were not we afforded opportunities to earn key business roles, recognized for our talents, treated equally, given the same opportunities? Should I go on...? Should I ask the age-old question? Why is it about Race? How do I answer that question today in 2021? Much less attempt to answer it as a teenager of the '70s. The answer is complexed, but the question is not. 

Again! Recently, I was asked that DAMN question- "Why is it always about Race?"  Milliseconds after hearing the question, I wanted to respond.  However, hearing it today touched me differently.  So I paused time to dig deep for an answer.  What I didn't hide was a facial reaction, which spoke volumes. Eye rolls, a squinch of the eyebrows, and astonishment gave off the physical appearance of realizing that we are still at this place. All while gathering myself in that split second and retracting back to that familiar chameleon...  Letting it roll off the shoulder.  Now that I've thought about it, I'm responding.  I am going to answer the damn question... "why?"

Let me give context while attempting to stitch together my reasoning for my answer to "why."  As eclectic as my backstory is, it leads to a conviction. This will be a long explanation, but at least I'll get it off my chest, and maybe someone will get it and understand the "why" from my perspective. 

I attended a university in Idaho. Yes, you read it correctly, Idaho. The black population in the state at the time was approximately 2600 or 2%. Within the city of Boise, there were less than 900 African Americans. The Aryan Nation took up residency in the 1970s in Northern Idaho and travel south to the campus for visits/lectures once per year. If there was a progressive city within the state during those times, it was Boise. Race data was hard to capture (compared to today) related to today's census. The city of Mountain Home, 30 miles outside of Boise, hosted a military base. The university was increasing in popularity nationwide due to the sports programs, specifically football.  Insert the question - "Why did you pick Boise?".  ...and I respond - "same reason you may have picked it, for the opportunity."

Coming from Oakland, Ca, was a monumental shift in surroundings, both visually and geographically. The snow-capped mountains and the brisk mountain air afforded me an immediate opportunity to consistently wear my first parka. I already had a sweater or two, and the new combination made the weather transition somewhat smooth. What was harder was the adoption of the community. As nice as most people were, it was a significant adjustment to the lack of people of color. Life was so different in Boise, Idaho, as compared to the neighborhoods and schools back home. Young and a teenager 721 miles from Oakland, living on campus hard mentally. 18 combined with homesickness became a familiar feeling, short flashbacks of family far away consistently strengthen the thought of home and escape. Mainly during that first semester. Oakland seemed to be going through it too. There was an exit plan happening in real-time. A revolving door of the likes of an ethnic turnstile was taking place. As astonishing as it was, diversity, although vast, it slightly began to diminish as white people started to leave and move into some of the surrounding bay area suburbs. 

During a typical stream of consciousness in a regular conversation, the last thing I think of is an ethnic category. Let me clarify. My conversations are not segmented verbally by ethnicity. Subconsciously I am aware of black America's plight and subconsciously gratified upon black achievement in any form. This shows up in daily life when we acknowledge each other with a head-knob or a verb gesture, "what's up - How you doin my man." As if to say, "I see you," "you've done us good," or "keep it up." Today's giddiness for giving compliments to my people probably stems from being a pre-teen child of the '60s. Positive images of African Americans within media were minimal—having to hang on the limb of a short clip, stories from parents, family members, and parents' friends. Visualizing success and black achievements through those stories became engrained and hopeful. What doubled as black exclusion was that we felt the fight and knew the achievements as both muted outside. We knew our role models, but you did not. Much like the underground railroad, the pathway of information traveled from adult to adult and ultimately to us, the children. What little media we had access to only confirmed the stories I already told. Even then, the portrayal was not as complimentary as my traveled stories were. To be seen was to wear plenty of lashes, struggles, sacrifices, and perseverance. 

Race as a categorizing term referring to human beings. The word was said to be first used in the 16th century. By the 18th century, Race was widely used to sort and rank the peoples in the English colonies—Europeans who saw themselves as free people, Amerindians who had been aggressively and unfairly conquered, and Africans brought in as slave labor; this usage of Race continues today. 

Race tends to force us to look at a person along with his/her color. But does it? Let us take a step back! For many years, I have worked in Silicon Valley and have never experienced an event, majority white, use the term "Race" or asked the question - "why" is it about Race? Did Race play a part in silicon valley's success? No! Why? Because the classification of Race implies ethnic separation. However, there was not much Race separation due to the lack of Race participation. "Race" was never called out. If it were, it was only about the need for diversity/Race. EEO reports that black men and women make up less than 1.8% participation amongst approximately 177 companies within the corridor. Need I say more? 

We celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, Washington's Birthday, Columbus Day, and Thanksgiving. However, have you ever heard a person of color ask, "Why is it about Race?" -when discussing one of the calendar days? Aren't most of those holidays about Race, or are they? It seems that that question only comes up when the calendar change includes the celebration of people of color, specifically the 70's debate over February as Black History month or years of debate of designating MLK a federal holiday. 
I have grown through those arguments, and this shit is exhausting.  So why is it always about Race?

So why is it about Race? Because you made it about Race. Because we now have a chance to celebrate openly, society owes us this right. In a way, we are cashing in because we can. We see this new and unrestricted era being suitable for strengthening the stitches that should be holding us together but divided us due to "Race." It is about us too, Black folks saying -we knew it all alone! Our success is no secret. Words of that success traveled underground from adult to adult, then to us children. We have arrived now, and we are no longer underground. We are going to talk about it loudly. It is about us saying look, and look closely - we made profound contributions, struggled, strived, helped, built, succeeded, were successful, persevered, and now we are here. 

That's why.

Monday, January 25, 2021

Hank Aaron a Childhood Treasure

One of my national treasures died today.  Henry Louis Aaron, nicknamed "Hammerin' Hank," died yesterday, Friday, January 23rd; he was 86 years old.  Wow!  yes, wow!  Before the newscaster finished her words - I was overcome with emotion.  

Hank Aaron was mystical.  I got to see him on one of three bay area channels we had at the time, primarily during the news at 6 pm. My favorite Bay Area sportscaster Jan Hutchenson would provide the sports highlights and end his show with his closing quote, "the body is the temple of the spirit, take care."  The only other global sports update option was Wide-World of Sports on Saturday's. Most of the updates were just enough to enhance my stepdad's stories about our great black sports athletes, now legends. 

I pause after hearing yesterday's breaking news.  In the midst of it, I flashed back to the early '70s in Oakland, CA.  A time when my only problems were not cleaning my room and forgetting to do chores.  Yet, I was aware that while baseball was branded as pure and American as apple pie, it was not like that for everyone.  Right outside lived monumental issues of strife and racism.  Many of those issues felt and worn by our great role models.  Hank was one of those who bore the burden of so much of that to include discrimination.  Can you imagine your home team fans being indifferent or hostile during the season you were chasing Ruth's record?  Can you imagine receiving death threats daily by mail and or other?  Can you imagine being a black man who plays baseball for a living yet has to hire guards to protect his family?  

1974 - Things are happening.  Coleman Young is elected as the first Black mayor of Detroit.  Frank Robinson is named the Cleveland Indians manager, becoming the first black manager in major league baseball.   Muhammad Ali beat George Foreman and regains the Heavyweight Championship of the world.  Shirley Chisholm, a New York Democrat, is the 1st African American woman elected to Congress.  As African Americans struggled for civil rights, major league baseball persisted as America's "happy game" despite less than 17% being African American.

Hank Aaron had a large community/fan base that rooted for him.   My community rooted loudly and eagerly waited for him to disrupt the game with that one home run.   In sports, the most covenant record was the baseball's home run record, held by Babe Ruth at 714. Close your eyes, take your mind back to the era of 1974. Imagine that record broken by a black player.  Many didn't want that to happen, but the many rooting for the 17% did.  The one person that blatantly didn't want to see it was the MLB commissioner Bowie Kuhn.  He chose not to attend the  Los Angeles Dodgers and the  Atlanta Braves game to witness Hank Aaron hit number 715 the night of April 4, 1974. Wow! another wow!  But I saw!  I saw it on my TV, and I was elated.   

I think Hank Aaron was well aware of how the kids in the neighborhood like me, Tony, and Ira would look to him as one of our champions, and that we did. Completing my chores allowed me to go outside and spend the rest of the day pretending to be like Hank Aaron. We'd play strikeout on Tony's steps and always encapsulated and dramatized Hanks' home run swing, either striking out or pounding the neighbor's roof with the Wiffle ball.  So when I paused earlier yesterday while hearing the news of his passing, I immediately reverted to my childhood and thought of that bat swing.  Hammerin Hanks' swing met that ball, lifting it high and long, breaking not only Babe Ruth's home run record but raising hope and giving me strength as a young black boy.  He was more than a baseball player to us.  He was a model that represented strength, eloquence, humility, power, and future.  That home run lifted the spirits of people and a race of people.  Hank Aaron was a symbolic celebration of hope when given a chance.