I am Martin "I have a dream" & I am Malcolm "By Any Means" This is the duality of being black in America.
I don't think I ever was mad or angry. I don't think I was pissed or furious. I think I am frustrated with the system, but I know I will "soldier"on, because that is how I am wired and that is just what I do.
I am not alone in these feelings. I know I will still fight for those less fortunate in this country of any color through my philanthropic efforts. If you ask me how do I feel? I think the best description is just I feel numb.
What this verdict has done is bring up a bunch of of memories historical to me of growing as a young black man. Read on if you like.
Let's get to it.
I have been called Nigger(I won't type it again the rest of this piece) growing up more times than I can even remember. I have been called a spook, porch monkey, colored, jungle bunny and whatever other derogatory name for black people. Or my favorite non derogatory name, but oh so very condescending word "boy".
Looking back I realize I could only "reconcile" these names in the somewhat protective confines of the "field of play". Usually in the two sports I was very good at growing up. On the Soccer field, I would guess I was called the N-Word well over a 100 times. By the time I was a teenager, it was so common place I learned I would usually be called the N-Word, because I had broken the spirit of the opposing team or player by dominating the field of play. It got to the point that I actually would laugh when the inevitable N-Word would come. I could often feel it building up inside of the opposing player. Like clockwork it would be "You Suck N*$$3r!" or You are still a Ni$$3r"! I would look at the guy and laugh, like "Seriously man, is that all you have to say? Because my team is kicking your ass and I am crushing you and have taken all of your confidence? You are soft man, come up with something more creative because apparently this "Ni$$3r" is busting your ass!"
By this time, my boys on my Soccer team would have overheard what was going on or the commotion and often would come to my defense usually in "payback"mode. My boys like Tyler Williams and Josh Sheldon if you know them, you know they have hearts of gold if you don't two white guys, who are like my brothers to this day.
Handling it on the field of play is one thing as you can cleanly slide tackle someone or give a hard foul as payback. Or just win the game smile at them when you shake hands afterwards and give them a little wink. They know they are defeated. However, it was far more complicated off the field of play and in the hallways of the schools where you are supposed to be in a safe haven and be educated.
I vividly remember the moment in 3rd grade at the dinner table with my parents when they asked me how school was? It was probably the 6th or 7th time of being called "Coon" & "Ni$$3r" at recess and "sucking it up" that I finally told them. A 5th grade bully(I know his name but won't put it here, because some of my home-towners may be friends on Facebook with the clown.) My parents were visibly upset and if not for the fact that it was 7pm at the dinner table,they would have driven up to School to meet with the Principal. Ultimately, the issue via my parents meetings eventually got resolved. I was too young to reconcile the words he said, I just knew that they really hurt me and I knew fighting in school regardless of what I was being called was not an option. My parents resolved that one for me and told me that this probably will not be the last time that you have to deal with racial slurs being slung at you, but you have to know its ignorant people who are saying these things to hurt you and you always have to rise above it.
High School- How many of you have ever been put on a "hitlist" because your skin is black? You find out you are on the so called "hitlist"by a young kid trying to start a KKK chapter within your high school. The "hitlist" was taken serious enough by the administration that they notified the police. Local news picked it up. It was serious enough where I was not comfortable walking the hallways of my high school for a period of time. Serious enough where patrol cars circled my cul-de-sac at my home at night. Serious enough where I remember students from other schools Loy Norrix, Portage Northern, K-Central coming over to my high school ready to "beat down" this so called baby "Grand Dragon". My old soccer and basketball brothers and general student body were ready to fight if necessary. My friends drove me to and from school just to make sure I was not alone. My parents, law enforcement and school administration from my perspective did the right thing to attempt to resolve the issue.
College-I was more insulated from the realities of the plight of other members of the student body, because I spent most my time in class or at basketball games. It was never lost on me the tone or reaction of other kids and being called the N-word a few times on campus by a couple ignorant students. I also was not immune to the fact that other minority students dealt with a lot more day to day bias than I ever had to endure. I never would fight and I never could fight because of that fact. I would chuckle and laugh at them the same way that I did on the Soccer field in high school. Like c'mon man do you think that even hurts anyone anymore? I did wear the black arm band during games to let the other students of color know that I was with them and they were not alone in the sometimes difficult plight of being black or Latin on campus.
Boston- I am hopeful I can get a cab in 2013, but I couldn't in 1997-1999 if it were dark out. Not saying it was because I am black, but it sure was interesting when they would drive by and pick up the other guy down the block(who wasn't black). I walked from 125 High Street in Financial district to my Place above Boston Beer works across from Fenway many nights.
Los Angeles-2005 Beverly Hills, CA on Canon Dr. leaving my friends Art Gallery heading to a friends place near Beverly Hills Hotel. Every persons heartbeat skipping moment, the flashing lights in your review mirror. When you are black, those lights make you feel a little uneasier.
Top down, on silver convertible, so it was easy to see who I was. Both officers walk up to car. My hands at 10 & 2. "What are you doing here in this neighborhood?" Just left my friends Art Gallery and I am heading to my friends house. "Really?"(sarcastic tone) What Gallery?". I give the name. "Where is the house?" About 1/2 mile from here, right behind BHills Hotel. "You been drinking"? No. Any reason you pulled me over? "We have had a slew of break ins in this neighborhood." Ok, and you are pulling me over for? "This is a nice car? ". Thanks. "What do you do?" I work at Merrill. "Do you have anything in the car that you should not have?" No. "No Drugs, No Alcohol?" No. "Ok, Imma ask you to get out of the car?" For? "Sir, I am not going to ask you again, get out of the car and pass me your license and registration...." At this point you remember everything you have been told about police and how to handle this situation as a black man. The Jay Z 99 problems verse is not going to work at this moment. You have no choice but to do what you are told.
"Mr. Walker sit on that curb over there. What am I going to find in your car, Drugs or Alcohol, Gun anything in the trunk?"
Nope. you will find my Merrill Lynch Paperwork and my golf clubs.
"We will see......"
20 minutes later....searching my car they find everything I told them....
"Ok you can go.........."
Thanks for your time (As I look at his badge) Officer .
I drive home, pissed. I file a complaint the next day. (I want to put his name out there, but I won't as he is still working for BHPD on a recent google search)
This happens to soooooo many of us that have grown up in this country. Its our story. No hoodie, I was in a suit & tie it doesn't matter.
I am acutely aware that all it takes is one person in authority with poor judgement to take 20 minutes of my freedom or longer on a bogus racial profile and search of my car at any moment and at any given time.
THIS HAPPENS ANY GIVEN DAY IN THIS COUNTRY!
My stories are the same stories of millions of people of color. This is why there is frustration with this outcome. We soldier on daily, but the question is will this ever stop? It takes a 17 year old losing his life and a man going free to discuss it.
1970s I was born, 1980s I was called racial slurs, 1990s I was called racial slurs, 2000s I was pulled over for being black in Bev Hills.
2013 I have a dream that by any means necessary we can stop repeating this vicious cycle of prejudice in my lifetime. I can only hope. Pray for the country and the world.
