There's an old saying at my alma mater that one does not simply choose to attend Morehouse College, rather, Morehouse College chooses her sons, those "Men of Morehouse" to be made "Morehouse Men." She chooses these men, these men called not to curse the wretchedness of the dark, but rather to light a candle in that dark and illuminate within it the truth, beauty and justice that disturbs the universe.
This is my attempt to light a candle in the dark.
It was earlier this year that I first heard vestiges of what was to eventually become the ‘Appropriate Attire’ policy that has temporarily catapulted Morehouse College into dissonant notoriety. During a landmark address to the college last April, Morehouse College President Robert M. Franklin, a Baptist preacher with the most liberal politics the college has seen in that particular office, articulated an unprecedented vision for the Morehouse community, urging for a peaceful integration of the queer experience into the college’s canon of tradition. His words received prodigious and widespread praise for his inclusive, enterprising mission to revive the Herculean image of the Black man while simultaneously seeking to bridge the very public discord between homosexual and heterosexual – at Morehouse and throughout the Black community.
What was missed by most during his speech, though, was the admonishment of feminine dress sported by some of the male students on campus and abhorred by the larger body politic. It was this tacit repudiation and obscuring of the Black queer experience that has recently exploded into a mass cultural debate about how the image of the Morehouse Man juxtaposes with non-conventional expressions of Black male identity, with as many people praising Morehouse’s actions as stalwart leadership as are berating the institution for its regressive candor.
I support President Franklin and the progressive direction in which he is steering the College. However, I cannot condone the subtle, if ill-intended, castigation of transgressive and non-conforming gender expression and identity espoused in this new ‘appropriate attire’ policy. While I appreciate any attempt to incubate Morehouse’s illustrious legacy, I do not believe that such resuscitation of Black male identity should come at the expense of the institution’s queer students, who, while not exclusively targeted by the policy, will possibly be disproportionately disenfranchised by it. But what’s more significant, and disconcerting, is that, as opposed to the named ‘thugs’ and ‘gangsters’ whose dress may now be limited by this new policy but have no history of significant social subjugation at the college, Morehouse’s gay, bisexual, and transgender students may exclusively reap a possible resurgence of latent homophobic sentiment and the recapitulation of heterosexism, heteronormativity and patriarchy that has now been codified (and therefore legitimized) by the institution, a school that has a sordid history of placidly facilitating oppression against queer students.
Is the policy itself homophobic? Not neccessarily. Admittedly, the policy does not specifically seek to limit the expression of the college’s queer-identified students exclusively, nor are its restrictions concerning ‘feminine garb’ an overt attack on gay and bisexual students. While gender expression and the expression of one’s sexuality are tangent to one another, they are not the same thing. Likewise, many gay and bisexual students will remain unaffected by the shift in prohibited campus attire. However, will the policy possibly fuel homophobia, transphobia and hinder the revolutionary edict that President Franklin so courageously initiated?
In my eyes, yes.
Just as troubling is the reality that, as an academic institution, Morehouse has chosen to subscribe to, and superimpose onto its student body, a very hegemonic and heteronormative prescription of masculinity without genuinely interrogating masculinity as a concept. To be the premiere institution for the education of Black men, there are surprisingly few course offerings aimed at the scholastic investigation of the Black male experience, much fewer that integrate any semblance of sex, sexuality and gender into that sphere of analysis. Morehouse is missing a unique opportunity to lead this burgeoning conversation in the larger Black community about what it means to be a Black man by refusing to incorporate the intersectionality of orientation, gender performance, and sexuality into its curriculum. Leaning on antiquated paradigms of the Black male experience makes it harder to explore this concept in a fresh, erudite, and optimally useful way.
To the greater LGBT community: We of Morehouse College acknowledge that we hold a peculiar position of prestige that solicits a slightly more refined look at our evolving legacy. The collective behavior of Morehouse College does not occur in a vacuum and, when it challenges a fundamental percept of ethical code it, like any other institution, need be challenged on its breach of moral decorum and held accountable for its actions. However, I’ve become particularly incensed by the unmitigated gall of the larger LGBT community to continuously criticize Morehouse for supposed “infractions” against queer people when, in aggregate, that same community does nothing to support the institution or its progress towards enacting more LGBT friendly policy and practices. With a few notable exceptions, there is no concerted effort by the external LGBT community to substantially give of its resources to support the mission of Morehouse College or even the queer students whose interests it purports to serve. So, while you are welcome to express your disdain for perceived prejudice and injustice, please refrain from using my institution as a case study and catalyst for the LGBT social justice agenda – particularly when the larger LGBT community rarely (if ever) engages the institution with any reciprocity of accountability, or in a way that utilizes cultural competency and does not perpetuate the equally problematic oppressions of racism, classism, and cultural imperialism in its intervention.
To my Morehouse brothers, Morehouse College, the greater Black community and other proponents of the policy: I understand that we have a responsibility to uphold the highest moral standard for the Black male ideal – that how we think, speak, act, and yes, look, are all cuts of the brilliant diamond that is Morehouse College and our history of leadership. However, it is the arguments in favor of this policy, much more than the policy itself, that concerns me about our institutional cognition surrounding issues central to this conversation. That the thinking of some welcomes this policy as a targeted censorship of gay/bisexual identity demonstrates that, as an institution and cultural community, we have a lot of self-edification to do concerning issues related to gender, sex, and sexuality and are not yet mature enough to police these concepts 'appropriately'.
As a proud alum of Morehouse College, I love my institution with my whole heart and am infinitely indebted to her for making me the open and unapologetic Black queer man -- the Morehouse Man -- that I am today. In all that I do, I seek to only bring continued strength and honor to "Dear Old Morehouse". As we all look forward to the continued leadership of Morehouse College – the Morehouse that is going to be – we must realize that we must divorce ourselves from certain barnacles of paternalism and bigotry that have characterized the Morehouse that was. The Morehouse demagogue cannot ethically be replicated by the same oppressive forces that helped to create it.
The Morehouse Man (and thus, the definition of such) is ever evolving because that is what keeps our mission alive – the renewed spirit of the Morehouse College mission inspired in a new breed of distinctive philosopher-kings. Our image is not marred or depleted by creating a space in our trajectory for fluid gender expression and non-heteronormative sexuality. On the contrary, this phenomenon radically fortifies our purpose and cements our name further in the annals of history, transforming the conventional concept of Black masculinity and liberating all Black men from the oppressions of imperial patriarchy that have kept us bound in dysfunction for so long. And, though that heritage of prescribed hegemony may be what brought us to revere Mother Morehouse and her sons, it is incumbent upon us to seek an even higher standard of existence – one that embraces diverse expressions of Black male identity, folding them into to the excellence of Morehouse College. This is how we grow the legacy and lead the people.
This is how we change the world.
Michael J. Brewer is an outspoken writer, speaker, social commentator and advocate for progressive change. Brewer currently serves as Chief-of-Staff to Georgia State Representative Alisha Thomas Morgan (HD-39) and Field Organizer for Georgia Equality. For more, visit www.MichaelJBrewer.blogspot.com.
10/13/09
On Straight Black Women & LGBT Activists (w/ Yolo Akili)
When Straight Black Women Attack & Activists Exploit
Thoughts and Statements on the Termination of Sandra Bradley & Morehouse College
Fantasy wedding leads to Morehouse firing
Gay couple’s marriage photos mocked in email comments
http://www.sovo.com/2009/10-9/news/localnews/10702.cfm?page=1 for the entire story)
Also: Rumors have been circulating that Morehouse College is about to enact a policy of "Appropriate Dress" that in its language discourages men to wear "women's clothes" and "feminine Dress". Both MJB & Yolo felt it would be important to address why this would be dangerous and problematic if this was actually made a part of policy.
Yolo Akili
As a community organizer in the metro Atlanta area who is NOT nor has never been a student of Morehouse College, I was still nevertheless, deeply impacted by this situation. In response to this I have chosen to write in solidarity with my colleague, fellow activist and Morehouse College graduate Michael J. Brewer on the many under-illuminated realities of this situation that we feel both the media and the blogosphere have failed to address.
1) Sandra Bradley's comments : For far too long, Black heterosexual middle class women have taken out their anger and frustration at what they percieve to be the lack of viable male partners on black gay men. Instead of investigating thier own elitist and sexist narratives of what constitutes a desirable partner, now our ability to love and embrace eachother has become the site in which black heterosexual women, with disturbingly unwavering support of the black community; can target and attack us. Because many black heterosexual women have been socialized to connect thier worth to men, often black men who love black men is seen as a rejection of them; in much the same way that black men who date white women are seen to have rejected black women. But this is not always the case. Our love of each other or love of someone who is not you, does not mean we love you any less. As black gay men, and yes, even as black men who sometimes chose partners who are not black, we often still and do love you as our sisters, friends, mothers, aunts and daughters. That love is still valid. That love is still meaningful. That love is still real.
However, I must state clearly and succinctly that even though I do not agree with the way in which way Bradley and many black women voice thier pain, I do hear the very real hurt that black women experience in this country. As a feminist it is very clear to me that Black women have a right to feel anger and hurt when this countries insitutions, standards of beauty, and black men themselves assault, attack and demean them daily.
But black men loving eachother and our bonds of care and committment are not the enemy sisters.The enemies are the systems of criminilization, economics, hyper-masculinity and injustice that have created the conditions for the "male shortage" you experience today. I'd also like to add that instead of blaming us, maybe self introspection on your own values, ideas about relationships and how they should look and your own enabling would lead to more insight into the supposed black male shortage. Maybe Instead of projecting our anger on eachother, we would do well to collectively direct our energies towards transforming the systems of ideas, beliefs, and institutions that have ceated what you experience as real today.
2) I do not agree with, nor condone the firing of Sandra Bradley. This model of punitive justice, which has left yet another black woman unemployed in one of the worst economic crisis of our history; has solved nothing. It has not offered Sandra an oppurtunity to learn anything but anger and grief. It has not educated her on her own comments, nor been used as an opppurunity to initiate a dialogue on homophobia on Morehouse's campus and in the AUC. It has not been transformative, and we now we have another sister, who may, god forbid, out of her own anger and pain now become an enemy to black gay men who may join god knows who's church or god knows who;s mission to degrade and devalue the lives of black LBGTQ folks further. I advocate for the re-hiring of Sandra, on the contigency that she attend some program, community service, or education that helps hold her accountable without attacking her.
3) "Morehouse College's Appropriate Attire Policy"- I want to take the time to reinterate the importance of acknowledging myself as an outsider of Morehouse College. This is important to me because in my experience doing organizing in the metro Atlanta area, all too often activists who have no connection to morehouse college use the institution as a grounds to further thier own agendas in a way that is frighteningly reminiscent of white activists entering communities of color, or internationally, U.S folks entering other nations. This model is one of exploitation, where the "outside" forces come in to battle some injustice, failing to look to the leadership and communities already living there for guidance and making decisions that, once the brigade has left, create disastrous consequences that those people are left to deal with. I have no desire to enact this model of injustice.
While holding that I must also say that Morehouse college choosing possibly to publicly declare a standard that looks down upon "feminine dress", or "women's clothes" has implications that travel beyond the AUC's borders. This type of policy, if it goes unchallenged, can set a precedence for other academic institutions to feel that it is acceptable to regulate people's bodies and gender expressions.
Not only that, This policy helps to validate the homophobic assaults and harrassments that are already happening at Morehouse. For before, we know that men who dressed in ways that crossed gender boundaries were harrassed, but now, Morehouse college is considering given individuals institutional support to police and condemn men's gender expression. The next thing we know this could spread, and the women of Spelman college will be forced to not wear "masculine dress"; and the women who dress more "masculine" on that campus will be harrassed more than they are already. Ultimately The decision to create and enforce this policy will contribute to fostering a climate where men who are either Gay or non-gender normative are not safe, valued, or embraced. This is simply unacceptable.
At the end of the day you have to ask yourselves, faculty and Men of Morehouse, why your school, that has produced some of our greatest leaders, is choosing to invest its energies in enforcing ideas that do not further the enlightenment nor embrace the diversity and beauty of black men. Why your school instead chooses to invest in policy that imprisons and belays black male expression into a narrow standard of masculinity that is not reflective of you or your school's legacy. I wonder what Morehouse would be able to do if it wasnt wasting all its energy trying to prove that its not gay. Heck, I wonder what most black men would do if they didnt spend half thier lives trying to prove that theyre not gay. Maybe you, and they, would choose to be something else. Maybe if you would choose to be men; heterosexual, homosexual or otherwise you would choose to be men who are responsible, accountable, and secure enough in your sexualities that you could direct your energies towards more loving and productive endeavors.
-Yolo
Yolo Akili is a nationally recognized artist, author, certified yoga teacher and spiritual consultant. For more, visit www.YoloAkili.com.
Michael J. Brewer
Let me take a moment to fully disclose my concealed weapons: I am a recent graduate and proud alum of Morehouse College. I love my institution with my whole heart and am infinitely indebted to her for making me the man -- the Morehouse Man -- that I am today. In all that I do, I seek to only bring continued strength and honor to "Dear Old Morehouse".
I believe it is this passion for Morehouse College that has sparked and fueled my growing frustration (and, might I candidly add, disdain and impatience) of the perpetual and effervescent critique of Morehouse precipitated by the vulturous survelliance of the larger LGBT community, superimposed upon the institution and magnifying every action it takes with regard to its queer student population.
To be fair, Morehouse holds a peculiar position of prestige that solicits a slightly more refined look at our evolving legacy. Likewise, the collective behavior of Morehouse College does not occur in a vacuum and, when it challenges a fundamental percept of ethical code it, like any other institution, need be challenged on its breach of moral decorum and held accountable for its actions. However, the precipitous events that ushered the firing of Ms. Sandra Bradley are viscerally demonstrative -- not of Morehouse's termination policy, but rather of:
-- a dysfunctional history in which the LGBT community's practice of rallying oppostion to the institution callously disregards the soveriegnity of the Morehouse community to address its own concerns,
-- a negligence to the foundation for progress concerning issues related to homophobia and hetersexism forged by constituents of the institution,
-- a disregard for both Morehouse's gay & bisexual students who are being exploited by such a campaign, and the movement for equality spurned by on-campus advocates and allies who challenge the campus status-quo, and
-- an almost complete apathy toward the continued thriving of the institution and longevity of the progressive movement at the institution after the external community has retreated its ideological encroachment.
While Morehouse is certainly not the only example one could provide of such cultural imperialism, I am sick and tired of the LGBT community treating MY institution like a lap dog, in need of constant media supervision, social policing and a sound strike on the nose every time something REMOTELY related to LGBT issues happens. Morehouse is special, and we understand the crown that has been placed above our heads. But really, Morehouse is an institution with its unique challenges and is not to be held to some golden standard. Incidents like those that led to Ms. Bradley's firing occur not just at Morehouse -- in fact, it seems that the specific email that she forwarded even found its way through certain annals of the Fulton County government. However, I rarely if ever see redirected the special spotlight of investigation and indignation that is so often cast on Morehouse College.
Additionally, I'm equally irritated by the unmitigated gall of the larger LGBT community to continuously criticize Morehouse for supposed “infractions” against the queer movement when, in aggregate, that same community does nothing to support the institution or its progress towards more LGBT inclusive policy and practices at the institution. With the notable exception of the HRC (under the brilliant and culturally competent hands of Diversity Coordinator Joey Gaskins), to my knowledge there are no LGBT organizations or agencies who give substantially of their resources to support the mission of Morehouse College. The community so quick to jump to accusations does not even support the gay rights group on campus, which has been advocating for a more progressive Morehouse since the 1980s. Scathing emails and fiery articles in newspapers and on blogs do garner a certain amount of attention, but those words ring rather hollow when those behind the words are offering nothing more substantive to help create a more progressive Morehouse. Here’s a thought: if you want to change Morehouse for the better, give to Morehouse. Develop a trustworthy relationship with the institution so they will invite you to the table when important decisions concerning our queer community are being made. Endow a scholarship for a queer student, or a position on faculty to teach gender and sexuality studies. Support the queer organizing that’s already taking place on campus, and respect that process and their work – they are much more in tune with what strategy works to effect the appropriate change, and they will be the ones left to continue the work at Morehouse after you, ultimately, leave to battle the next injustice. Stop criticizing Morehouse and then retreating to your liberal enclaves where you don’t have to engage with those you so publicly abhor and malign.
This glaring gap becomes even more ostensible when one looks at the "Appropriate Attire Policy" that Morehouse is purporting to begin implementing on its student body this month. Here we have a problematic policy whose implications on the definitions of gender and masculinities -- as well as codified prescriptions for policing both -- reach far beyond Morehouse's institutional walls, but there is no comment from the larger LGBT community on this egregious injustice. And, while I respectfully disagree the institution's position behind such a policy, I am left to wonder where the objectionable chorus of activists and advocates are -- perhaps, when assaults on LGBT culture are made that only effect Morehouse students and have no direct bearings on the entire community, there's no reason to protest. (Sidebar: to my Morehouse brothers still on campus, it is incumbent upon you to raise your voices in opposition to such an oppressive policy. Failure to do so chips away at the progress made by those that came before you.)
Which leads me to the following: to those whom this edict applies, please refrain from using my institution as the catalyst for your social justice agenda, particularly when you cannot engage the institution in the reciprocity of accountability that utilizes cultural competency and does not perpetuate oppression in your intervention. I applaud the swift and decisive actions of President Robert M. Franklin and the Morehouse College community against such alleged homophobia, and I appreciate the campus community's increasing sensitivity to such issues. However, I cannot condone the firing of Ms. Bradley nor the perpetual backlash of the LGBT community which undoubtedly agitated and precipitated Ms. Bradley's termination. And, on a personal note, if those in the LGBT community knew (or cared to know) anything about Morehouse besides what they read in the gay press, they'd learn that while we have certainly missed that mark in the past with regard to LGBT folk, we've definitely earned our stripes when it comes to advocating for the civil rights of marginalized peoples.
To put it bluntly: Check your privilege, first. Then critique -- respectfully.
There's an old saying at my alma mater stating that one does not simply decide or choose to attend Morehouse College -- rather, Morehouse College chooses her sons, those "Men of Morehouse" to be made "Morehouse Men." She choose those men and holds high above our heads a crown, a crown which she challenges us to grow tall enough in intellect, respect, integrity, character, valor and excellence to wear. She chooses those men, those men called not to curse the wretchedness of the dark, but rather to light a candle in that dark and illuminate the truth, beauty and justice that leads nations and moves souls.
I join my cosmic brother Yolo Akili in this manifesto to light a candle in the dark. The unjust firing of former Morehouse College employee Sandra Bradley and the implementation of an oppressive appropriate attire policy on campus brings me great disappointment and is symptomatic of a larger dynamic of injustice -- a conundrum of hypocrisy, patriarchy, homophobia and imperialism that unfairly scrutinizes Morehouse College against a rhetorical standard which few institutions are challenged to uphold, while simultaneously allowing Morehouse College to enact policy that further disenfranchises its queer contingent and opens the doors for institutionalized heteronormativity even wider.
In the paraphrased words of my late Morehouse brother Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. ('48), if the LGBT community is going to be a metaphorical "drum major" -- strive to be a drum major for truth. Be a drum major for justice.
Don't just beat the damn drum.
--- MJB
Michael J. Brewer is an outspoken writer, speaker, social commentator and advocate for progressive change. Brewer currently serves as Chief-of-Staff to Georgia State Representative Alisha Thomas Morgan (HD-39) and Field Organizer for Georgia Equality.
Thoughts and Statements on the Termination of Sandra Bradley & Morehouse College
Fantasy wedding leads to Morehouse firing
Gay couple’s marriage photos mocked in email comments
http://www.sovo.com/2009/10-9/news/localnews/10702.cfm?page=1 for the entire story)
Also: Rumors have been circulating that Morehouse College is about to enact a policy of "Appropriate Dress" that in its language discourages men to wear "women's clothes" and "feminine Dress". Both MJB & Yolo felt it would be important to address why this would be dangerous and problematic if this was actually made a part of policy.
Yolo Akili
As a community organizer in the metro Atlanta area who is NOT nor has never been a student of Morehouse College, I was still nevertheless, deeply impacted by this situation. In response to this I have chosen to write in solidarity with my colleague, fellow activist and Morehouse College graduate Michael J. Brewer on the many under-illuminated realities of this situation that we feel both the media and the blogosphere have failed to address.
1) Sandra Bradley's comments : For far too long, Black heterosexual middle class women have taken out their anger and frustration at what they percieve to be the lack of viable male partners on black gay men. Instead of investigating thier own elitist and sexist narratives of what constitutes a desirable partner, now our ability to love and embrace eachother has become the site in which black heterosexual women, with disturbingly unwavering support of the black community; can target and attack us. Because many black heterosexual women have been socialized to connect thier worth to men, often black men who love black men is seen as a rejection of them; in much the same way that black men who date white women are seen to have rejected black women. But this is not always the case. Our love of each other or love of someone who is not you, does not mean we love you any less. As black gay men, and yes, even as black men who sometimes chose partners who are not black, we often still and do love you as our sisters, friends, mothers, aunts and daughters. That love is still valid. That love is still meaningful. That love is still real.
However, I must state clearly and succinctly that even though I do not agree with the way in which way Bradley and many black women voice thier pain, I do hear the very real hurt that black women experience in this country. As a feminist it is very clear to me that Black women have a right to feel anger and hurt when this countries insitutions, standards of beauty, and black men themselves assault, attack and demean them daily.
But black men loving eachother and our bonds of care and committment are not the enemy sisters.The enemies are the systems of criminilization, economics, hyper-masculinity and injustice that have created the conditions for the "male shortage" you experience today. I'd also like to add that instead of blaming us, maybe self introspection on your own values, ideas about relationships and how they should look and your own enabling would lead to more insight into the supposed black male shortage. Maybe Instead of projecting our anger on eachother, we would do well to collectively direct our energies towards transforming the systems of ideas, beliefs, and institutions that have ceated what you experience as real today.
2) I do not agree with, nor condone the firing of Sandra Bradley. This model of punitive justice, which has left yet another black woman unemployed in one of the worst economic crisis of our history; has solved nothing. It has not offered Sandra an oppurtunity to learn anything but anger and grief. It has not educated her on her own comments, nor been used as an opppurunity to initiate a dialogue on homophobia on Morehouse's campus and in the AUC. It has not been transformative, and we now we have another sister, who may, god forbid, out of her own anger and pain now become an enemy to black gay men who may join god knows who's church or god knows who;s mission to degrade and devalue the lives of black LBGTQ folks further. I advocate for the re-hiring of Sandra, on the contigency that she attend some program, community service, or education that helps hold her accountable without attacking her.
3) "Morehouse College's Appropriate Attire Policy"- I want to take the time to reinterate the importance of acknowledging myself as an outsider of Morehouse College. This is important to me because in my experience doing organizing in the metro Atlanta area, all too often activists who have no connection to morehouse college use the institution as a grounds to further thier own agendas in a way that is frighteningly reminiscent of white activists entering communities of color, or internationally, U.S folks entering other nations. This model is one of exploitation, where the "outside" forces come in to battle some injustice, failing to look to the leadership and communities already living there for guidance and making decisions that, once the brigade has left, create disastrous consequences that those people are left to deal with. I have no desire to enact this model of injustice.
While holding that I must also say that Morehouse college choosing possibly to publicly declare a standard that looks down upon "feminine dress", or "women's clothes" has implications that travel beyond the AUC's borders. This type of policy, if it goes unchallenged, can set a precedence for other academic institutions to feel that it is acceptable to regulate people's bodies and gender expressions.
Not only that, This policy helps to validate the homophobic assaults and harrassments that are already happening at Morehouse. For before, we know that men who dressed in ways that crossed gender boundaries were harrassed, but now, Morehouse college is considering given individuals institutional support to police and condemn men's gender expression. The next thing we know this could spread, and the women of Spelman college will be forced to not wear "masculine dress"; and the women who dress more "masculine" on that campus will be harrassed more than they are already. Ultimately The decision to create and enforce this policy will contribute to fostering a climate where men who are either Gay or non-gender normative are not safe, valued, or embraced. This is simply unacceptable.
At the end of the day you have to ask yourselves, faculty and Men of Morehouse, why your school, that has produced some of our greatest leaders, is choosing to invest its energies in enforcing ideas that do not further the enlightenment nor embrace the diversity and beauty of black men. Why your school instead chooses to invest in policy that imprisons and belays black male expression into a narrow standard of masculinity that is not reflective of you or your school's legacy. I wonder what Morehouse would be able to do if it wasnt wasting all its energy trying to prove that its not gay. Heck, I wonder what most black men would do if they didnt spend half thier lives trying to prove that theyre not gay. Maybe you, and they, would choose to be something else. Maybe if you would choose to be men; heterosexual, homosexual or otherwise you would choose to be men who are responsible, accountable, and secure enough in your sexualities that you could direct your energies towards more loving and productive endeavors.
-Yolo
Yolo Akili is a nationally recognized artist, author, certified yoga teacher and spiritual consultant. For more, visit www.YoloAkili.com.
Michael J. Brewer
Let me take a moment to fully disclose my concealed weapons: I am a recent graduate and proud alum of Morehouse College. I love my institution with my whole heart and am infinitely indebted to her for making me the man -- the Morehouse Man -- that I am today. In all that I do, I seek to only bring continued strength and honor to "Dear Old Morehouse".
I believe it is this passion for Morehouse College that has sparked and fueled my growing frustration (and, might I candidly add, disdain and impatience) of the perpetual and effervescent critique of Morehouse precipitated by the vulturous survelliance of the larger LGBT community, superimposed upon the institution and magnifying every action it takes with regard to its queer student population.
To be fair, Morehouse holds a peculiar position of prestige that solicits a slightly more refined look at our evolving legacy. Likewise, the collective behavior of Morehouse College does not occur in a vacuum and, when it challenges a fundamental percept of ethical code it, like any other institution, need be challenged on its breach of moral decorum and held accountable for its actions. However, the precipitous events that ushered the firing of Ms. Sandra Bradley are viscerally demonstrative -- not of Morehouse's termination policy, but rather of:
-- a dysfunctional history in which the LGBT community's practice of rallying oppostion to the institution callously disregards the soveriegnity of the Morehouse community to address its own concerns,
-- a negligence to the foundation for progress concerning issues related to homophobia and hetersexism forged by constituents of the institution,
-- a disregard for both Morehouse's gay & bisexual students who are being exploited by such a campaign, and the movement for equality spurned by on-campus advocates and allies who challenge the campus status-quo, and
-- an almost complete apathy toward the continued thriving of the institution and longevity of the progressive movement at the institution after the external community has retreated its ideological encroachment.
While Morehouse is certainly not the only example one could provide of such cultural imperialism, I am sick and tired of the LGBT community treating MY institution like a lap dog, in need of constant media supervision, social policing and a sound strike on the nose every time something REMOTELY related to LGBT issues happens. Morehouse is special, and we understand the crown that has been placed above our heads. But really, Morehouse is an institution with its unique challenges and is not to be held to some golden standard. Incidents like those that led to Ms. Bradley's firing occur not just at Morehouse -- in fact, it seems that the specific email that she forwarded even found its way through certain annals of the Fulton County government. However, I rarely if ever see redirected the special spotlight of investigation and indignation that is so often cast on Morehouse College.
Additionally, I'm equally irritated by the unmitigated gall of the larger LGBT community to continuously criticize Morehouse for supposed “infractions” against the queer movement when, in aggregate, that same community does nothing to support the institution or its progress towards more LGBT inclusive policy and practices at the institution. With the notable exception of the HRC (under the brilliant and culturally competent hands of Diversity Coordinator Joey Gaskins), to my knowledge there are no LGBT organizations or agencies who give substantially of their resources to support the mission of Morehouse College. The community so quick to jump to accusations does not even support the gay rights group on campus, which has been advocating for a more progressive Morehouse since the 1980s. Scathing emails and fiery articles in newspapers and on blogs do garner a certain amount of attention, but those words ring rather hollow when those behind the words are offering nothing more substantive to help create a more progressive Morehouse. Here’s a thought: if you want to change Morehouse for the better, give to Morehouse. Develop a trustworthy relationship with the institution so they will invite you to the table when important decisions concerning our queer community are being made. Endow a scholarship for a queer student, or a position on faculty to teach gender and sexuality studies. Support the queer organizing that’s already taking place on campus, and respect that process and their work – they are much more in tune with what strategy works to effect the appropriate change, and they will be the ones left to continue the work at Morehouse after you, ultimately, leave to battle the next injustice. Stop criticizing Morehouse and then retreating to your liberal enclaves where you don’t have to engage with those you so publicly abhor and malign.
This glaring gap becomes even more ostensible when one looks at the "Appropriate Attire Policy" that Morehouse is purporting to begin implementing on its student body this month. Here we have a problematic policy whose implications on the definitions of gender and masculinities -- as well as codified prescriptions for policing both -- reach far beyond Morehouse's institutional walls, but there is no comment from the larger LGBT community on this egregious injustice. And, while I respectfully disagree the institution's position behind such a policy, I am left to wonder where the objectionable chorus of activists and advocates are -- perhaps, when assaults on LGBT culture are made that only effect Morehouse students and have no direct bearings on the entire community, there's no reason to protest. (Sidebar: to my Morehouse brothers still on campus, it is incumbent upon you to raise your voices in opposition to such an oppressive policy. Failure to do so chips away at the progress made by those that came before you.)
Which leads me to the following: to those whom this edict applies, please refrain from using my institution as the catalyst for your social justice agenda, particularly when you cannot engage the institution in the reciprocity of accountability that utilizes cultural competency and does not perpetuate oppression in your intervention. I applaud the swift and decisive actions of President Robert M. Franklin and the Morehouse College community against such alleged homophobia, and I appreciate the campus community's increasing sensitivity to such issues. However, I cannot condone the firing of Ms. Bradley nor the perpetual backlash of the LGBT community which undoubtedly agitated and precipitated Ms. Bradley's termination. And, on a personal note, if those in the LGBT community knew (or cared to know) anything about Morehouse besides what they read in the gay press, they'd learn that while we have certainly missed that mark in the past with regard to LGBT folk, we've definitely earned our stripes when it comes to advocating for the civil rights of marginalized peoples.
To put it bluntly: Check your privilege, first. Then critique -- respectfully.
There's an old saying at my alma mater stating that one does not simply decide or choose to attend Morehouse College -- rather, Morehouse College chooses her sons, those "Men of Morehouse" to be made "Morehouse Men." She choose those men and holds high above our heads a crown, a crown which she challenges us to grow tall enough in intellect, respect, integrity, character, valor and excellence to wear. She chooses those men, those men called not to curse the wretchedness of the dark, but rather to light a candle in that dark and illuminate the truth, beauty and justice that leads nations and moves souls.
I join my cosmic brother Yolo Akili in this manifesto to light a candle in the dark. The unjust firing of former Morehouse College employee Sandra Bradley and the implementation of an oppressive appropriate attire policy on campus brings me great disappointment and is symptomatic of a larger dynamic of injustice -- a conundrum of hypocrisy, patriarchy, homophobia and imperialism that unfairly scrutinizes Morehouse College against a rhetorical standard which few institutions are challenged to uphold, while simultaneously allowing Morehouse College to enact policy that further disenfranchises its queer contingent and opens the doors for institutionalized heteronormativity even wider.
In the paraphrased words of my late Morehouse brother Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. ('48), if the LGBT community is going to be a metaphorical "drum major" -- strive to be a drum major for truth. Be a drum major for justice.
Don't just beat the damn drum.
--- MJB
Michael J. Brewer is an outspoken writer, speaker, social commentator and advocate for progressive change. Brewer currently serves as Chief-of-Staff to Georgia State Representative Alisha Thomas Morgan (HD-39) and Field Organizer for Georgia Equality.
10/6/09
On Joe Wilson and Democracy
“You Lie!”
Almost one month ago, Rep. Joe Wilson (SC-2nd) made headlines and sealed his spot in the history books when he shouted those immortal two words at President Obama during his joint congressional address on health care reform. The dust has finally settled, the incredulity of Joe Wilson having finished lining both his and his Democratic challenger’s respective campaign coffers. President Obama – in addition to Presidents Carter and Clinton – have all had their respective say, and the US House of Representatives has passed its punitive resolution, capturing forever Wilson’s career-defining moment of infamy and ensuring that even if the public or history forgets what he did, the official Record of the House will not.
Yes, much has simmered down since Joe Wilson’s outburst, an outburst precipitated by the heat of this past summer’s series of town hall meetings about health care reform. All is now quiet on the front, and – with the notable exception of the Senate Finance Committee – the national political conversation as turned at least partially toward American foreign policy and our perennial relationships (read: challenges) with Iran & Afghanistan.
That is, everyone except me.
I reserved my reactions to the debacle initially because I seriously didn’t know what to think or how I felt. The pundits of our popular media didn’t make my task any easier, clouding my mind with explosive questions of race that amplified Wilson’s infraction and threatened to overshadow the political conversation proposed to fix our nation’s broken health care system. And now that the talking heads have finally shut up and I can hear my own thoughts again, all I’m left to listen to are questions:
Why didn’t Wilson make a public apology? Why did he “apologize” to Chief-of-Staff Rahm Emanuel instead of the President – the man who actually incurred the expense of Wilson’s disrespect?
Would Wilson’s defense of “being overcome” and “letting his emotions get the best of him” pass muster? What if he had been a woman – would the same defense have worked in that scenario?
Why didn’t the House of Representatives (read: Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi and the Democratic majority a.k.a “Her Partner Dem”) move to censure Wilson for his flagrant breach of House rules and public decorum?
Is the public option really off the table? Like, “for real” for real?
How close are we really to passing a substantive piece of legislation that lowers health care premiums and drives down costs, makes care more accessible to low-income families and the people that need it the most, and relieves some of the burden off of our fledgling health care system and professionals?
But more than these, the central question that continues to ricochet off of these tangent inquiries and consume my thoughts is this:
Was Joe Wilson’s outburst justified?
I know this probably sounds like a misnomer, but I’ve honestly wrestled with this question since I, too, was burned by Nancy Pelosi’s death stare. See, here’s the thing: while I would agree with most people that Wilson’s comments were certainly unseemly, contrary to the order of the proceedings and deserving of rapt punishment, I kind of like that Wilson and the rest of the GOP are able to openly critique the President. In this grand experiment that we call democracy, freedom of speech is not just a provision for the security of one’s own civil liberty – that same freedom forties our democratic process and underlines one of the most basic principles of liberalism: that in a free market place of ideas in which every opinion is expressed, no one opinion may reign unjustly over another because competing ideas battle for public consensus, unearthing from its ashes a new clairvoyance and forging a truth that will allow a government of the people, by the people, for the people to better agree on how to govern themselves. In a democracy, no opinion is above reproach.
In a democratic republic such as ours, in which every person is not given a voice in the creation of new law and public policy and most of us rely on others to articulate our thoughts and feelings to the larger body politic, it’s even more important that that marketplace remain free and open, scrutinized less by the processes and procedures we’ve established to facilitate its operation and committed more to protecting different opinions and preserving the integrity of producing the best government we desire to establish. I would argue that in a democracy, it is the dissenting opinion that is often the most important, protecting the voice that is most often drowned out by the clamorous monotony and projected moral superiority of popular opinion. At one time, women's suffrage, civil rights and LGBT equality represented dissenting opinions (and in some instances, still do) contrary to the pleasure of the majority of the nation. But the core precept of this democracy perseveres: just because more of us agree with the prevailing ideology does not circumvent the continued importance of the dissenting opinion, no matter how much we disagree with it. I’m appreciative and proud that the pervading significance of dissenting opinion has helped move our nation from a past bigotry of oppression toward a more progressive liberalism. And, to be honest, I wish there had been more Wilson-esque outbursts from my elected representatives during President Bush’s (43) tenure.
Was the manner in which Wilson registered his disdain with that particular pillar of President Obama’s health care plan uncivilized? Sure. Was his volatility motivated, even in part, by racism? Perhaps – probably, even. But was Joe Wilson justified in making so egregious of an eruption, in the name of open debate and better government?
I’m still not sure what the correct answer is.
But, in the words of Texas blogger Kathleen McKinley,”criticism can be an act of great patriotism.”
Almost one month ago, Rep. Joe Wilson (SC-2nd) made headlines and sealed his spot in the history books when he shouted those immortal two words at President Obama during his joint congressional address on health care reform. The dust has finally settled, the incredulity of Joe Wilson having finished lining both his and his Democratic challenger’s respective campaign coffers. President Obama – in addition to Presidents Carter and Clinton – have all had their respective say, and the US House of Representatives has passed its punitive resolution, capturing forever Wilson’s career-defining moment of infamy and ensuring that even if the public or history forgets what he did, the official Record of the House will not.
Yes, much has simmered down since Joe Wilson’s outburst, an outburst precipitated by the heat of this past summer’s series of town hall meetings about health care reform. All is now quiet on the front, and – with the notable exception of the Senate Finance Committee – the national political conversation as turned at least partially toward American foreign policy and our perennial relationships (read: challenges) with Iran & Afghanistan.
That is, everyone except me.
I reserved my reactions to the debacle initially because I seriously didn’t know what to think or how I felt. The pundits of our popular media didn’t make my task any easier, clouding my mind with explosive questions of race that amplified Wilson’s infraction and threatened to overshadow the political conversation proposed to fix our nation’s broken health care system. And now that the talking heads have finally shut up and I can hear my own thoughts again, all I’m left to listen to are questions:
Why didn’t Wilson make a public apology? Why did he “apologize” to Chief-of-Staff Rahm Emanuel instead of the President – the man who actually incurred the expense of Wilson’s disrespect?
Would Wilson’s defense of “being overcome” and “letting his emotions get the best of him” pass muster? What if he had been a woman – would the same defense have worked in that scenario?
Why didn’t the House of Representatives (read: Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi and the Democratic majority a.k.a “Her Partner Dem”) move to censure Wilson for his flagrant breach of House rules and public decorum?
Is the public option really off the table? Like, “for real” for real?
How close are we really to passing a substantive piece of legislation that lowers health care premiums and drives down costs, makes care more accessible to low-income families and the people that need it the most, and relieves some of the burden off of our fledgling health care system and professionals?
But more than these, the central question that continues to ricochet off of these tangent inquiries and consume my thoughts is this:
Was Joe Wilson’s outburst justified?
I know this probably sounds like a misnomer, but I’ve honestly wrestled with this question since I, too, was burned by Nancy Pelosi’s death stare. See, here’s the thing: while I would agree with most people that Wilson’s comments were certainly unseemly, contrary to the order of the proceedings and deserving of rapt punishment, I kind of like that Wilson and the rest of the GOP are able to openly critique the President. In this grand experiment that we call democracy, freedom of speech is not just a provision for the security of one’s own civil liberty – that same freedom forties our democratic process and underlines one of the most basic principles of liberalism: that in a free market place of ideas in which every opinion is expressed, no one opinion may reign unjustly over another because competing ideas battle for public consensus, unearthing from its ashes a new clairvoyance and forging a truth that will allow a government of the people, by the people, for the people to better agree on how to govern themselves. In a democracy, no opinion is above reproach.
In a democratic republic such as ours, in which every person is not given a voice in the creation of new law and public policy and most of us rely on others to articulate our thoughts and feelings to the larger body politic, it’s even more important that that marketplace remain free and open, scrutinized less by the processes and procedures we’ve established to facilitate its operation and committed more to protecting different opinions and preserving the integrity of producing the best government we desire to establish. I would argue that in a democracy, it is the dissenting opinion that is often the most important, protecting the voice that is most often drowned out by the clamorous monotony and projected moral superiority of popular opinion. At one time, women's suffrage, civil rights and LGBT equality represented dissenting opinions (and in some instances, still do) contrary to the pleasure of the majority of the nation. But the core precept of this democracy perseveres: just because more of us agree with the prevailing ideology does not circumvent the continued importance of the dissenting opinion, no matter how much we disagree with it. I’m appreciative and proud that the pervading significance of dissenting opinion has helped move our nation from a past bigotry of oppression toward a more progressive liberalism. And, to be honest, I wish there had been more Wilson-esque outbursts from my elected representatives during President Bush’s (43) tenure.
Was the manner in which Wilson registered his disdain with that particular pillar of President Obama’s health care plan uncivilized? Sure. Was his volatility motivated, even in part, by racism? Perhaps – probably, even. But was Joe Wilson justified in making so egregious of an eruption, in the name of open debate and better government?
I’m still not sure what the correct answer is.
But, in the words of Texas blogger Kathleen McKinley,”criticism can be an act of great patriotism.”
9/10/09
On Aaron Turpeau's Open Letter Regarding the Atlanta Mayoral Race
The Atlanta Mayor's Race burst wide open a few weeks ago when a controversial memo made a big splash in the otherwise placid pool of candidates and campaigning, bringing the perennial contention of race back into Southern politics -- if it ever really left.
The bold reactions of the mayoral candidates to the "Black Agenda" memo that has circulated the city has been nothing compared to the reconnaissance of those involved in creating the story; from an unnecessarily hostile public response from a lame-duck freshman of the State House to a castigating press conference by the Clark Atlanta University professors who authored the fiery research that spurned this hellish parade. And just when one thought that this egregious stunt and superfluous headline had finally been laid to rest, now named antagonist Aaron Turpeau, local political veteran and the primary proprietor of this debacle, has released his own open letter in defense of his and the Atlanta Black Leadership Forum's (ABLF) actions.
When this series of events began to unfold a couple of weeks ago, I (like probably most people following the race) was slightly perplexed. I knew only vaguely of Aaron Turpeau's local fame, absolutely nothing about the Atlanta Black Leadership Forum, and in all of my political savvy couldn't quite muster why Lisa Borders had come out so strongly against what appeared to me to be a trivial document and a non-issue. To be honest, I thought that she and her campaign were grand-standing on the issue of race – a more than obvious emottional under-current in Southern socio-economic politics – to drum up support from her White base. However, this was before the initial memo that spurred her denunciations hit the wire and made national news, all but forcing Ms. Borders to come out against it so early and publicly just to stay on the offensive.
I'm still not sure how I feel about the memo. On the one hand, I certainly see value in the claims that the document and its intentions are contentious and incendiary, injecting into what was becoming a placid and tepid election season the vile and prejudice of a darker time in our city’s (hell, our nation's) past. On the other, race (along with class, gender, sexual orientation and a host of other divisive classifications) is still a very controversial and taboo reality, especially for us here in Atlanta, GA. If Ms. Borders had never responded to it, even had the memo never been publicized or written, that wouldn’t have changed the fact that many of us are still thinking about race and the ramifications of a candidate’s race on our segregated agendas – more importantly, that many of us take our thoughts on race with us into the voting booth. At least now the conversation has been catalyzed and put on the table, however cumbersomely.
And, while I certainly have no problem with Mr. Turpeau, the ABLF, or any other entity commissioning research or articulating an agenda to progress the ideals of their organization, I do take slight issue to any agency advocating for the interests of any group/community without the buy-in of those constituents. A political agenda by the ABLF for the ABLF is fine – great, even. An agenda by the ABLF for Atlanta’s Black community, however, is hollow and arrogant without the input and buy-in of the city’s Black citizenry. We expect open debate with our political leaders – why do our social leaders hold themselves to less scrutiny?
Ms. Borders, Mr. Turpeau, Rep. Ralph Long (D-Atlanta) are all somewhat right in their respective analyses -- which I guess also makes them all wrong, at least in part. What I do know is that there is a need to return to the civility and good faith of leadership that seeks to unite our communities toward solving our most difficult challenges. The practice of dividing genuine will to act in the best interests of the public by either 1) incubating hate and reinvigorating dormant pain with cheap, dirty identity politics or 2) flagging attention away from the issues that really matter with haughty platitidues & empty rhetoric, is antiquated and opaque. Furthermore, it's ultimately unconstructive.
I hasten the day when we can campaign in prose, but govern in poetry.
Get in to Aaron Turpeau’s response letter at:
http://blogs.ajc.com/political-insider-jim-galloway/2009/09/09/a-postscript-turpeau-says-banishment-followed-mayoral-memo/?cxntfid=blogs_political_insider_jim_galloway
And the memo that started it all at:
www.atlantaprogressivenews.com/news/0500.html
There’s still about seven weeks left in this race, so much is still in the air. I think it’s safe to say, however, that Mr. Turpeau and the Atlanta Black Leadership Forum won’t be supporting Mary Norwood.
The bold reactions of the mayoral candidates to the "Black Agenda" memo that has circulated the city has been nothing compared to the reconnaissance of those involved in creating the story; from an unnecessarily hostile public response from a lame-duck freshman of the State House to a castigating press conference by the Clark Atlanta University professors who authored the fiery research that spurned this hellish parade. And just when one thought that this egregious stunt and superfluous headline had finally been laid to rest, now named antagonist Aaron Turpeau, local political veteran and the primary proprietor of this debacle, has released his own open letter in defense of his and the Atlanta Black Leadership Forum's (ABLF) actions.
When this series of events began to unfold a couple of weeks ago, I (like probably most people following the race) was slightly perplexed. I knew only vaguely of Aaron Turpeau's local fame, absolutely nothing about the Atlanta Black Leadership Forum, and in all of my political savvy couldn't quite muster why Lisa Borders had come out so strongly against what appeared to me to be a trivial document and a non-issue. To be honest, I thought that she and her campaign were grand-standing on the issue of race – a more than obvious emottional under-current in Southern socio-economic politics – to drum up support from her White base. However, this was before the initial memo that spurred her denunciations hit the wire and made national news, all but forcing Ms. Borders to come out against it so early and publicly just to stay on the offensive.
I'm still not sure how I feel about the memo. On the one hand, I certainly see value in the claims that the document and its intentions are contentious and incendiary, injecting into what was becoming a placid and tepid election season the vile and prejudice of a darker time in our city’s (hell, our nation's) past. On the other, race (along with class, gender, sexual orientation and a host of other divisive classifications) is still a very controversial and taboo reality, especially for us here in Atlanta, GA. If Ms. Borders had never responded to it, even had the memo never been publicized or written, that wouldn’t have changed the fact that many of us are still thinking about race and the ramifications of a candidate’s race on our segregated agendas – more importantly, that many of us take our thoughts on race with us into the voting booth. At least now the conversation has been catalyzed and put on the table, however cumbersomely.
And, while I certainly have no problem with Mr. Turpeau, the ABLF, or any other entity commissioning research or articulating an agenda to progress the ideals of their organization, I do take slight issue to any agency advocating for the interests of any group/community without the buy-in of those constituents. A political agenda by the ABLF for the ABLF is fine – great, even. An agenda by the ABLF for Atlanta’s Black community, however, is hollow and arrogant without the input and buy-in of the city’s Black citizenry. We expect open debate with our political leaders – why do our social leaders hold themselves to less scrutiny?
Ms. Borders, Mr. Turpeau, Rep. Ralph Long (D-Atlanta) are all somewhat right in their respective analyses -- which I guess also makes them all wrong, at least in part. What I do know is that there is a need to return to the civility and good faith of leadership that seeks to unite our communities toward solving our most difficult challenges. The practice of dividing genuine will to act in the best interests of the public by either 1) incubating hate and reinvigorating dormant pain with cheap, dirty identity politics or 2) flagging attention away from the issues that really matter with haughty platitidues & empty rhetoric, is antiquated and opaque. Furthermore, it's ultimately unconstructive.
I hasten the day when we can campaign in prose, but govern in poetry.
Get in to Aaron Turpeau’s response letter at:
http://blogs.ajc.com/political-insider-jim-galloway/2009/09/09/a-postscript-turpeau-says-banishment-followed-mayoral-memo/?cxntfid=blogs_political_insider_jim_galloway
And the memo that started it all at:
www.atlantaprogressivenews.com/news/0500.html
There’s still about seven weeks left in this race, so much is still in the air. I think it’s safe to say, however, that Mr. Turpeau and the Atlanta Black Leadership Forum won’t be supporting Mary Norwood.
9/8/09
On Obama's Speech on Education
After reading President Obama's prepared remarks to our nation's pramary and secondary school students, even as a recent college graduate I couldn't help but feel drunk with inspiration and hope.
In education, it's always parental invlovement/teacher quality/more education funding/etc. or some other external phenomenon that's touted as the magic bullet to calm the slackluster torpor of what can very justly be defended as our nation's greatest public policy failure. How refreshing it is to hear someone pay due credence to the most significant piece of the puzzle: the task of the student to take responsibility for his/her education and truly make the most of it -- not just for themselves, but for all of us.
One of my favorite quotes from Mr. Obama's remarks:
"I expect you to put your best effort into everything you do. I expect great things from each of you. So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it."
It's a shame that our President's message of accountability, responsibility, and motivation has gotten mired in partisan wrangling and political polarization. I hope more students than not are able to take advantage of this unique opportunity to hear directly from the Chief Executive of our country about how they can make America a better place for all of us to live and thrive.
Education as a line-item on the agenda of America's future -- what a revolutionary ideal.
Catch President Obama's speech live @ 12pm EST on either www.CSPAN.org or www.WhiteHouse.gov. Check out the speech @ http://www.whitehouse.gov/MediaResources/PreparedSchoolRemarks/.
In education, it's always parental invlovement/teacher quality/more education funding/etc. or some other external phenomenon that's touted as the magic bullet to calm the slackluster torpor of what can very justly be defended as our nation's greatest public policy failure. How refreshing it is to hear someone pay due credence to the most significant piece of the puzzle: the task of the student to take responsibility for his/her education and truly make the most of it -- not just for themselves, but for all of us.
One of my favorite quotes from Mr. Obama's remarks:
"I expect you to put your best effort into everything you do. I expect great things from each of you. So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it."
It's a shame that our President's message of accountability, responsibility, and motivation has gotten mired in partisan wrangling and political polarization. I hope more students than not are able to take advantage of this unique opportunity to hear directly from the Chief Executive of our country about how they can make America a better place for all of us to live and thrive.
Education as a line-item on the agenda of America's future -- what a revolutionary ideal.
Catch President Obama's speech live @ 12pm EST on either www.CSPAN.org or www.WhiteHouse.gov. Check out the speech @ http://www.whitehouse.gov/MediaResources/PreparedSchoolRemarks/.
9/5/09
On Pride
Native Atlantans know when Labor Day is approaching. Like the revived crisp of autumn, early September blows tens of thousands of Black queers into the city to celebrate what many tote to be the largest Black Gay Pride celebration in the world. If you've ever been in Atlanta during this particularly unique and special holiday weekend, you know all the tell-tale signs, too: Lenox (and now Atlantic Station -- particularly H&M) seems filled to the brim with Black gays & lesbians picking out the perfect complement to their weekend outfits -- be that a man, woman, or article of clothing; Midtown briefly sports a rich sun-kissed hue that must be the product of an instant tan; and Sunday afternoon at Piedmont Park becomes the state's largest adult-rated family reunion.
Yeah, screw Christmas -- Black Pride is the most wonderful time of the year. Where the hell is Bing Crosby with a remix to that song?!
Surely, as a very out and very active gay Black man, I have and do enjoy the celebration of community, life and (temporary) love that is Black Pride. In a world with so few spaces for Black LGBT persons to be affirmed in the beauty of our individual and collective truths, Black Pride has become a flagship festival of Black gay culture and contribution. Black Pride accepts everyone and rejects no one, refraining one from being forced to choose between one's race (as the Black community so often requires of us) and one's sexual orientation/gender expression (as the gay community so often expects of us). Black Pride allows Black queer persons to, for at least a weekend, reconcile our dichotomous identities and relish in the divinity of our unique existence and experience.
Black Pride is as important to the Black LGBT community as the 4th of July is to America -- for many of us, Labor Day weekend serves as our Independence Day.
And for everything that Black Pride is, I often find myself disenchanted and ambivalent towards the celebration. I mean, Black Pride is fine and all, but I often wonder what I'm to be proud of: How is my pride in being a good Black gay man demonstrated or symbolized in the mostly salacious, tawdry and exploitative activities that comprise the weekend? How does the propagation of internalized homophobia, heterosexism, heteronormativity, patriarchy, internalized racism and colorism, femmephobia, and dozens of other intersected oppressions speak to the ideal of who I'm supposed to be or ascribe to? While there is a lot of good and positive in the Black LGBT community to be lauded, I've often felt like that line-item report pales in comparison to the challenges we face.
So I spend Black Pride straddling the fence -- coming close enough to the flame to feel it's warmth and truly capture it's beauty, but standing far enough back to see the fire for what it is and protect myself from being burned by it's insipid heat. I think the reality boils down to something like this:
Being a gay Black man of integrity, character, and substance makes me proud -- Black Pride does not. And that's okay, because Black Pride is not for me.
I've been proud.
Yeah, screw Christmas -- Black Pride is the most wonderful time of the year. Where the hell is Bing Crosby with a remix to that song?!
Surely, as a very out and very active gay Black man, I have and do enjoy the celebration of community, life and (temporary) love that is Black Pride. In a world with so few spaces for Black LGBT persons to be affirmed in the beauty of our individual and collective truths, Black Pride has become a flagship festival of Black gay culture and contribution. Black Pride accepts everyone and rejects no one, refraining one from being forced to choose between one's race (as the Black community so often requires of us) and one's sexual orientation/gender expression (as the gay community so often expects of us). Black Pride allows Black queer persons to, for at least a weekend, reconcile our dichotomous identities and relish in the divinity of our unique existence and experience.
Black Pride is as important to the Black LGBT community as the 4th of July is to America -- for many of us, Labor Day weekend serves as our Independence Day.
And for everything that Black Pride is, I often find myself disenchanted and ambivalent towards the celebration. I mean, Black Pride is fine and all, but I often wonder what I'm to be proud of: How is my pride in being a good Black gay man demonstrated or symbolized in the mostly salacious, tawdry and exploitative activities that comprise the weekend? How does the propagation of internalized homophobia, heterosexism, heteronormativity, patriarchy, internalized racism and colorism, femmephobia, and dozens of other intersected oppressions speak to the ideal of who I'm supposed to be or ascribe to? While there is a lot of good and positive in the Black LGBT community to be lauded, I've often felt like that line-item report pales in comparison to the challenges we face.
So I spend Black Pride straddling the fence -- coming close enough to the flame to feel it's warmth and truly capture it's beauty, but standing far enough back to see the fire for what it is and protect myself from being burned by it's insipid heat. I think the reality boils down to something like this:
Being a gay Black man of integrity, character, and substance makes me proud -- Black Pride does not. And that's okay, because Black Pride is not for me.
I've been proud.
6/29/09
On The 2009 BET Awards...
Thursday, June 25th, 2009. The world is abashed in horror as our televisions and radios confirm the truth we didn't want to believe -- Michael Jackson, arguably the biggest music star of any generation (living or dead) and certainly the object of affection for millions (perhaps maybe even billions), had died. The Moonwalker, who once graced us mere mortals with amazing glimpses of his astral projections, had taken his last bow and last breath, leaving the rest of us wondering where the time had gone and why it had taken someone so adored by so many. The legacy that was Michael Jackson was finally capstoned and sealed to be mourned, remembered, and revered in glory for millenia to come.
That is, until Black Entertainment Television decided to desecrate it with a tribute to him in the name of the BET Awards.
If the latest installment of BET's most highly-publicized award show is in any way a reflection of the collective memory of the King of Pop, I shudder for the future of his legacy and weep for future generations who will never know Michael and his art as we did, unmarred by an undignified, haphazard, and poorly executed homage un-befitting of royalty.
Sure, many of us in our community are well-acquainted with the history of BET and their awards show and have come to fully expect -- yeah, even appreciate -- the tomfoolery and egregiousness that characterizes this particular mid-summer's night in Black entertainment and culture. However, I would argue that last night's program catapulted BET to a new level of baseness that deserves community reproach: as if it isn't enough to defecate on the very spirit of your network, BET had the audacity to name it a tribute to one of our community's fallen heroes.
Perhaps BET should seek honor themselves and the community they represent before they deign to offer tribute. Without honor, what's the integrity of tribute?
I think it's about time that we held a forum of "Community Accountability" with BET. Nothing big and public -- just an intimate "family affair"; a cozy conversation between Black people and BET in which we (the populous) expressed our challenges with the network. While we should certainly laud BET for what it does right (while I'm extremely incapable of producing an adequate example, at this moment), there is something to be said about the breadth and depth of what they get wrong.
That is, until Black Entertainment Television decided to desecrate it with a tribute to him in the name of the BET Awards.
If the latest installment of BET's most highly-publicized award show is in any way a reflection of the collective memory of the King of Pop, I shudder for the future of his legacy and weep for future generations who will never know Michael and his art as we did, unmarred by an undignified, haphazard, and poorly executed homage un-befitting of royalty.
Sure, many of us in our community are well-acquainted with the history of BET and their awards show and have come to fully expect -- yeah, even appreciate -- the tomfoolery and egregiousness that characterizes this particular mid-summer's night in Black entertainment and culture. However, I would argue that last night's program catapulted BET to a new level of baseness that deserves community reproach: as if it isn't enough to defecate on the very spirit of your network, BET had the audacity to name it a tribute to one of our community's fallen heroes.
Perhaps BET should seek honor themselves and the community they represent before they deign to offer tribute. Without honor, what's the integrity of tribute?
I think it's about time that we held a forum of "Community Accountability" with BET. Nothing big and public -- just an intimate "family affair"; a cozy conversation between Black people and BET in which we (the populous) expressed our challenges with the network. While we should certainly laud BET for what it does right (while I'm extremely incapable of producing an adequate example, at this moment), there is something to be said about the breadth and depth of what they get wrong.
6/11/09
Day 25
Addiction
So, after trial/error/disappointment, I've gotten into the habit of medicating myself with a post-obstruction cocktail -- usually there's more the former than the latter.
The Reality: If I stay on this trajectory, and life keeps sucking, I'm well on my way to developing one whopping dependency.
The Story: Today began like an other day -- I awoke with the sunshine of possibility and a new day warming the apples of my bright smile. I showered/dressed, handled some early morning business, and made my way out the door, on time might I add, to my first obligation of the day.
I must not have checked my calendar, because apparently today is the day the Hellmouth opened over Atlanta. Or, at least, my life.
I won't belabor every nauseatingly obnoxious detail that attributed to my persistent foul mood today -- rather, let's take a topical approach:
1) Lack of personal transportation
Seriously, this is becoming Issue #1 for me. I won't even bring up how public transportation in Atlanta is neither convenient, reliable, or compatible with my life schedule, not too mention how embarrassing and uncomfortable it is to be seen standing on Random Atlanta Corner #3453 (dressed business casual wearing my maroon Morehouse College polo accented by a briefcase, no less) in the hot ass Georgia sun waiting for the bus -- that may or may not come when it's supposed to. No, the most frustrating part of the whole ordeal is my inability to navigate life/negotiate space and time to my personal desire. I'm always at the mercy of some other entity's resource, and it's beginning to piss me off to my highest pissivity (yes, it's a word...and if it wasn't before, it is now).
2) Lack of substantial viable stream of income.
Those who've partaken in my previous posts are well acquainted with the Dawson's Creek saga that is my "employment" (my emphasis). After numerous attempted home invasions (three since the beginning of 2009) and a re-evaluation of the now very apparent lack of amenities (see above) in my life, it has become more and more obvious that I'm in need of a stronger fiscal influx. More disappointing, however, is the juxtaposition of my current job(s) and pay against the current job market and the work that I've already given to the aforementioned agencies. They continue to thrive while I wither -- at my expense, literally.
3) Lack of support
I am growing increasingly agitated with my current lot in life. While I've never been a fan (or recipient) of hand-outs, I'm beginning to wonder why my road was predestined to be so autonomous and arduous. I know this is about to border on selfish narcissism, but why haven't I been given certain gifts, gifts that I perceive I need to achieve my optimal success and gifts that I see others receiving all the time. For instance: why didn't I get a car growing up (a shitty fixer-upper that I could have pushed throughout high-school and undergrad while learning the basics of car maintenance and automobile finances) so that now not only would I have reliable transportation, but I wouldn't have to finance a vehicle all by my onesy. Why couldn't I have gotten some support to help buoy the financial transition from safe, comfortable college to shockingly-abrasive adulthood? I don't believe that I'm owed anything from anyone, but I've got to admit -- I do feel like I'm floating on a patchwork raft in the middle of a torrential ocean. I'm secure in the knowledge that I'm on the right path and that I'm (kinda) doing the right thing, but I can't help but wonder if, under my current circumstances, I'm going to make it -- and why I'm (seemingly) having it harder than others in situations akin to my own.
I apologize for my bitch-fest -- but I had to get this off my chest. In the meantime, I meditate:
After achieving the success of graduating from college, what, if anything, should you expect in return?
So, after trial/error/disappointment, I've gotten into the habit of medicating myself with a post-obstruction cocktail -- usually there's more the former than the latter.
The Reality: If I stay on this trajectory, and life keeps sucking, I'm well on my way to developing one whopping dependency.
The Story: Today began like an other day -- I awoke with the sunshine of possibility and a new day warming the apples of my bright smile. I showered/dressed, handled some early morning business, and made my way out the door, on time might I add, to my first obligation of the day.
I must not have checked my calendar, because apparently today is the day the Hellmouth opened over Atlanta. Or, at least, my life.
I won't belabor every nauseatingly obnoxious detail that attributed to my persistent foul mood today -- rather, let's take a topical approach:
1) Lack of personal transportation
Seriously, this is becoming Issue #1 for me. I won't even bring up how public transportation in Atlanta is neither convenient, reliable, or compatible with my life schedule, not too mention how embarrassing and uncomfortable it is to be seen standing on Random Atlanta Corner #3453 (dressed business casual wearing my maroon Morehouse College polo accented by a briefcase, no less) in the hot ass Georgia sun waiting for the bus -- that may or may not come when it's supposed to. No, the most frustrating part of the whole ordeal is my inability to navigate life/negotiate space and time to my personal desire. I'm always at the mercy of some other entity's resource, and it's beginning to piss me off to my highest pissivity (yes, it's a word...and if it wasn't before, it is now).
2) Lack of substantial viable stream of income.
Those who've partaken in my previous posts are well acquainted with the Dawson's Creek saga that is my "employment" (my emphasis). After numerous attempted home invasions (three since the beginning of 2009) and a re-evaluation of the now very apparent lack of amenities (see above) in my life, it has become more and more obvious that I'm in need of a stronger fiscal influx. More disappointing, however, is the juxtaposition of my current job(s) and pay against the current job market and the work that I've already given to the aforementioned agencies. They continue to thrive while I wither -- at my expense, literally.
3) Lack of support
I am growing increasingly agitated with my current lot in life. While I've never been a fan (or recipient) of hand-outs, I'm beginning to wonder why my road was predestined to be so autonomous and arduous. I know this is about to border on selfish narcissism, but why haven't I been given certain gifts, gifts that I perceive I need to achieve my optimal success and gifts that I see others receiving all the time. For instance: why didn't I get a car growing up (a shitty fixer-upper that I could have pushed throughout high-school and undergrad while learning the basics of car maintenance and automobile finances) so that now not only would I have reliable transportation, but I wouldn't have to finance a vehicle all by my onesy. Why couldn't I have gotten some support to help buoy the financial transition from safe, comfortable college to shockingly-abrasive adulthood? I don't believe that I'm owed anything from anyone, but I've got to admit -- I do feel like I'm floating on a patchwork raft in the middle of a torrential ocean. I'm secure in the knowledge that I'm on the right path and that I'm (kinda) doing the right thing, but I can't help but wonder if, under my current circumstances, I'm going to make it -- and why I'm (seemingly) having it harder than others in situations akin to my own.
I apologize for my bitch-fest -- but I had to get this off my chest. In the meantime, I meditate:
After achieving the success of graduating from college, what, if anything, should you expect in return?
6/10/09
Day 24
Quick Hit
Someone tried to break into my house today. AGAIN. FOR THE 3RD TIME THIS YEAR.
It's funny how the universe will subtlety move you towards the space you need to occupy in order to stay aligned with your life's purpose -- I now know that my new metaphysical space is not compatible with my current physical space, and I'll be reconciling that juxtaposition within my physical realm immediately, if not sooner.
Likewise, with regard to my recent work drama, I'm now certain that the sacrifice of living I was almost willing to make is not worth (in this case) potential professional gain. I refuse to sacrifice even a smidgen of my peace of mind to work for those who have already achieved theirs. I need to be compensated adequately for what I do -- what I'm worth. And I'll raise hell and high water to get it.
I thought it was difficult before, but now I know that life is about to get even a little bumpier. But I don't mind, because I know where I've been, and I know where I'm going.
I'm strapped in.
Someone tried to break into my house today. AGAIN. FOR THE 3RD TIME THIS YEAR.
It's funny how the universe will subtlety move you towards the space you need to occupy in order to stay aligned with your life's purpose -- I now know that my new metaphysical space is not compatible with my current physical space, and I'll be reconciling that juxtaposition within my physical realm immediately, if not sooner.
Likewise, with regard to my recent work drama, I'm now certain that the sacrifice of living I was almost willing to make is not worth (in this case) potential professional gain. I refuse to sacrifice even a smidgen of my peace of mind to work for those who have already achieved theirs. I need to be compensated adequately for what I do -- what I'm worth. And I'll raise hell and high water to get it.
I thought it was difficult before, but now I know that life is about to get even a little bumpier. But I don't mind, because I know where I've been, and I know where I'm going.
I'm strapped in.
6/9/09
Day 23
Up Against The Wall
Almost a month since graduation, and the professional life that I thought was taking off and sky-rocketing into a well-oiled future has hit a snag -- a big one.
So, I'm literally stuck between the metaphorical rock and the (very) real hard place. I'm invested in two jobs -- one as aide to a local elected official, and another as a staffer on an At-Large City Council campaign. These two jobs, which were supposed to work in concert with one another (both professionally and fiscally), are now somewhat at odds with each other. What's even more distressing, however, is that due to some unforeseeable circumstances (or just some fucked-up decision making), neither job is in a position to pay me what I need to maintain my standard of living -- and I ain't balling.
I enjoy the work I do (even though, when you're not being paid your worth, it certainly erases some of the enthusiasm and luster you once held for the work), but I've been put in a de facto position in which I have to decide between either 1) continuing to overwork for underpay, or 2) leaving the comfort of the professional nooks I've crafted for myself and striking it out on my own in search of a job that satisfies both my professional and financial needs -- in this job market.
At the behest of my mentor, I've spent the last few days off work thinking about the professional life I want to create for myself -- re-evaluating my goals, and realigning my professional pursuits with those goals. While I have a ballpark image/concept of what I want to spend my life's work doing, I'm not quite sure what it is that I definitively want to do (or if there's even only one thing I desire to do with my life). However, I do know that where I am currently in my professional life -- doing what it is that I'm doing -- is not going to put me in the position to get where I want to go in my personal life. I need the union of both, and the sacrifice of one for the other is unacceptable -- more importantly, I don't feel like I should have to make that sacrifice.
Where once before I was worried about the trajectory of my career and how I would make ends meet, in the consciousness I've come into I do know for sure that the Universe has a way of taking care of you. When you project the things that you want into the atmosphere, the Universe will create them for you. I'm beginning to disbelieve in the concept of "floating through life" -- I'm not sure if you need to know precisely what it is that you want for the Universe to bring you to what it is that you need. Don't get me wrong, there is a way that explicit direction allows one to optimize the opportunities that one's given -- but I also think that what is to happen, inevitably, will happen. What's more imperative, I believe, is to trust yourself and the Universe -- that whatever you want, no matter how big or small, is genuine, valid, and necessary to the world; that what is for you will come to you; that what you are to be will manifest for you to assume.
I report back to the office fully on Thursday. I'm not quite where I want to be, but I take comfort in knowing that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be -- every step I take is moving me to the success I've projected into the environment. Wherever I end up, I know I won't be led astray from where I'm supposed to be. I believe in my success -- and whether I stay at my current jobs or leave, I know I'll create it.
Almost a month since graduation, and the professional life that I thought was taking off and sky-rocketing into a well-oiled future has hit a snag -- a big one.
So, I'm literally stuck between the metaphorical rock and the (very) real hard place. I'm invested in two jobs -- one as aide to a local elected official, and another as a staffer on an At-Large City Council campaign. These two jobs, which were supposed to work in concert with one another (both professionally and fiscally), are now somewhat at odds with each other. What's even more distressing, however, is that due to some unforeseeable circumstances (or just some fucked-up decision making), neither job is in a position to pay me what I need to maintain my standard of living -- and I ain't balling.
I enjoy the work I do (even though, when you're not being paid your worth, it certainly erases some of the enthusiasm and luster you once held for the work), but I've been put in a de facto position in which I have to decide between either 1) continuing to overwork for underpay, or 2) leaving the comfort of the professional nooks I've crafted for myself and striking it out on my own in search of a job that satisfies both my professional and financial needs -- in this job market.
At the behest of my mentor, I've spent the last few days off work thinking about the professional life I want to create for myself -- re-evaluating my goals, and realigning my professional pursuits with those goals. While I have a ballpark image/concept of what I want to spend my life's work doing, I'm not quite sure what it is that I definitively want to do (or if there's even only one thing I desire to do with my life). However, I do know that where I am currently in my professional life -- doing what it is that I'm doing -- is not going to put me in the position to get where I want to go in my personal life. I need the union of both, and the sacrifice of one for the other is unacceptable -- more importantly, I don't feel like I should have to make that sacrifice.
Where once before I was worried about the trajectory of my career and how I would make ends meet, in the consciousness I've come into I do know for sure that the Universe has a way of taking care of you. When you project the things that you want into the atmosphere, the Universe will create them for you. I'm beginning to disbelieve in the concept of "floating through life" -- I'm not sure if you need to know precisely what it is that you want for the Universe to bring you to what it is that you need. Don't get me wrong, there is a way that explicit direction allows one to optimize the opportunities that one's given -- but I also think that what is to happen, inevitably, will happen. What's more imperative, I believe, is to trust yourself and the Universe -- that whatever you want, no matter how big or small, is genuine, valid, and necessary to the world; that what is for you will come to you; that what you are to be will manifest for you to assume.
I report back to the office fully on Thursday. I'm not quite where I want to be, but I take comfort in knowing that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be -- every step I take is moving me to the success I've projected into the environment. Wherever I end up, I know I won't be led astray from where I'm supposed to be. I believe in my success -- and whether I stay at my current jobs or leave, I know I'll create it.
6/7/09
Day 21
Three Weeks Notice
A compilation of life thoughts & lessons from this week's edition of "Adventures in Post-Grad" (and, if you haven't noticed, a weekly feature):
1). It's okay to be wrong and to make mistakes. "The choice may have been mistaken; the choosing was not..."
2). The Universe blesses us all with talents, gifts, and abilities -- we are punished when we deprive the world of them.
3). Johnetta Betsch Cole and Beverly Guy-Sheftall are THE truth. Google 'em.
4). And speaking of "gender talk", while I am ever evolving into a welcome feminist consciousness, there is still internal work I need to do around addressing and reconciling my male privilege and oppressive behavior.
5). Friends are fleeting -- but that's not good reason to not take care of them. For as long as they're in your life, you should nurture each other as if it's forever.
6). Answering the phone means a lot. Sometimes (I dare say, MOST times), just showing up counts.
7). From my mentor -- never compromise any aspect of yourself to please other people. Be very clear of what it is you want, and seek that.
8). Reba, Linda, Martina, and Trisha can try, but Patti and Michael will always reign over them -- on their own.
9). Lesbians are really cool. Like, REALLY cool.
10). Happiness and community have at least one thing in common -- they both begin and end with you.
A compilation of life thoughts & lessons from this week's edition of "Adventures in Post-Grad" (and, if you haven't noticed, a weekly feature):
1). It's okay to be wrong and to make mistakes. "The choice may have been mistaken; the choosing was not..."
2). The Universe blesses us all with talents, gifts, and abilities -- we are punished when we deprive the world of them.
3). Johnetta Betsch Cole and Beverly Guy-Sheftall are THE truth. Google 'em.
4). And speaking of "gender talk", while I am ever evolving into a welcome feminist consciousness, there is still internal work I need to do around addressing and reconciling my male privilege and oppressive behavior.
5). Friends are fleeting -- but that's not good reason to not take care of them. For as long as they're in your life, you should nurture each other as if it's forever.
6). Answering the phone means a lot. Sometimes (I dare say, MOST times), just showing up counts.
7). From my mentor -- never compromise any aspect of yourself to please other people. Be very clear of what it is you want, and seek that.
8). Reba, Linda, Martina, and Trisha can try, but Patti and Michael will always reign over them -- on their own.
9). Lesbians are really cool. Like, REALLY cool.
10). Happiness and community have at least one thing in common -- they both begin and end with you.
6/1/09
Day 15
On The Steps of the Palace
I have come to realize that I have a problem with effective communication.
Allow me to be more specific: I have challenges addressing problems I have with behaviors people exhibit towards me that I consider disrespectful or inappropriate.
I've known for quite awhile that I'm quite the passive-aggressive. I'm the guy who'll say and look like everything is okay while I quietly curse your ass out in my mind for your infraction. However, my passive-aggressive nature was always tempered by my emotional A.D.D -- I can never feel any kind of way for too long before I'm over that emotion and on the next. However, as of late I seem to have outgrown my emotional A.D.D and the irritability (pacified by my passive-aggressiveness) that it usually assuages is now beginning to fester and create a perennial state of what I like to call "pissivity" (for you etymologists, from the Latin pis`ed, meaning "to be mad as hell").
I know that if I was just able to communicate to people who wronged me how they wronged me when they wronged me that I don't LIKE it when they wrong me that I would be a happier, more stable person. Alas, I find it especially difficult to voice my grievance and displeasure with the people closest to me. Why, I'm not sure. What I can say is that it has manifested in pretty dastardly ways in the past and never resolves any given situation to my liking.
This is especially true at work, where lately I've been feeling that my time and energy could be utilized more effectively. I'm not complaining (rather, I'm trying not to complain), but lately I've had this nagging disenchantment with my work. It's not (directly) tied to my compensation, but therein lies my dilemma.
Knowing that we all have bills, it's imperative that we get paid for services we render. Conversely, success comes to those who work their ass off for the love of what they do -- no matter what the compensation. While I know my professional worth, I also know there's a fair amount of dues-paying that everyone must endure. But how much is too much? Is expecting certain conditions and circumstances a pronouncement that you think you're above paying certain dues? How do you know your true professional worth? And is holding out for a position that fully realizes it worth the risk of abandoning professionally-catapulting, but less-lucrative, work? And how gratifying should your work be if you know that it will ultimately take you where you want to go?
When it comes to your job, what's the difference between professional advancement and professional volunteering?
I have come to realize that I have a problem with effective communication.
Allow me to be more specific: I have challenges addressing problems I have with behaviors people exhibit towards me that I consider disrespectful or inappropriate.
I've known for quite awhile that I'm quite the passive-aggressive. I'm the guy who'll say and look like everything is okay while I quietly curse your ass out in my mind for your infraction. However, my passive-aggressive nature was always tempered by my emotional A.D.D -- I can never feel any kind of way for too long before I'm over that emotion and on the next. However, as of late I seem to have outgrown my emotional A.D.D and the irritability (pacified by my passive-aggressiveness) that it usually assuages is now beginning to fester and create a perennial state of what I like to call "pissivity" (for you etymologists, from the Latin pis`ed, meaning "to be mad as hell").
I know that if I was just able to communicate to people who wronged me how they wronged me when they wronged me that I don't LIKE it when they wrong me that I would be a happier, more stable person. Alas, I find it especially difficult to voice my grievance and displeasure with the people closest to me. Why, I'm not sure. What I can say is that it has manifested in pretty dastardly ways in the past and never resolves any given situation to my liking.
This is especially true at work, where lately I've been feeling that my time and energy could be utilized more effectively. I'm not complaining (rather, I'm trying not to complain), but lately I've had this nagging disenchantment with my work. It's not (directly) tied to my compensation, but therein lies my dilemma.
Knowing that we all have bills, it's imperative that we get paid for services we render. Conversely, success comes to those who work their ass off for the love of what they do -- no matter what the compensation. While I know my professional worth, I also know there's a fair amount of dues-paying that everyone must endure. But how much is too much? Is expecting certain conditions and circumstances a pronouncement that you think you're above paying certain dues? How do you know your true professional worth? And is holding out for a position that fully realizes it worth the risk of abandoning professionally-catapulting, but less-lucrative, work? And how gratifying should your work be if you know that it will ultimately take you where you want to go?
When it comes to your job, what's the difference between professional advancement and professional volunteering?
5/31/09
Day 14
Two Weeks Notice
So, it's officially been two weeks since I graduated from Morehouse College. A quick compilation of the lessons I've learned thus far in the nascent stages of my post-collegiate journey:
1). Timidity and vague, meek behavior is no one's friend -- you'll never get what you want that way. Puff out your chest, get your mind right, and ask those difficult questions.
2). Yeah, you've got a degree now -- so what? The world is not going to come to you. You want something? You're going to have to put in some hard work and make it happen.
3). The first law of nature, at the end of the day, is self-preservation. For everyone. Never forget that the only person who has your unequivocal best interests in mind is you. So hold fast to it.
4). Nice guys don't always finish last, but they rarely finish first. You teach people how to treat you. If you let people fuck with you, they will.
5). Be a beast at everything you do -- it's the surest way to success. Sure, you'll make mistakes along the way, but they won't be from laziness or apathy.
6). Don't take everything so personally. It's not all about you. In fact, more often than not, its about them (still struggling with this one).
7). You are the master of your fate and the captain of your soul -- creating the world you want to live in is first a mental task.
8). The word "friend" is a very liberal concept -- it need not be.
9). Effective communication will take you far -- and help you keep your sanity.
10). Don't just take a chance -- have a plan.
So, it's officially been two weeks since I graduated from Morehouse College. A quick compilation of the lessons I've learned thus far in the nascent stages of my post-collegiate journey:
1). Timidity and vague, meek behavior is no one's friend -- you'll never get what you want that way. Puff out your chest, get your mind right, and ask those difficult questions.
2). Yeah, you've got a degree now -- so what? The world is not going to come to you. You want something? You're going to have to put in some hard work and make it happen.
3). The first law of nature, at the end of the day, is self-preservation. For everyone. Never forget that the only person who has your unequivocal best interests in mind is you. So hold fast to it.
4). Nice guys don't always finish last, but they rarely finish first. You teach people how to treat you. If you let people fuck with you, they will.
5). Be a beast at everything you do -- it's the surest way to success. Sure, you'll make mistakes along the way, but they won't be from laziness or apathy.
6). Don't take everything so personally. It's not all about you. In fact, more often than not, its about them (still struggling with this one).
7). You are the master of your fate and the captain of your soul -- creating the world you want to live in is first a mental task.
8). The word "friend" is a very liberal concept -- it need not be.
9). Effective communication will take you far -- and help you keep your sanity.
10). Don't just take a chance -- have a plan.
5/27/09
Day 11
Gainful Employment
Lately, I've been reading Russell Simmon's 2007 release "Do You!: 12 Laws to Access the Power in You to Achieve Happiness and Success". I'm not the biggest fan of self-help literature, but so far I'm impressed with Russell's message. Basically, he argues that in order for one to achieve the success and happiness they desire, both professionally and personally, one need look spiritually & introspectively to discern his/her passion and purpose and work stringently toward realizing them.
The concepts of purpose and passion are two things that have been resonating with me the past few days, thanks to Brother Russell. Considering the current economic forecast, I am fortunate to have found employment right out of undergrad. And I'm not talking about just a job, either -- we're talking employment that boosts my professional cred, is within my discipline, and pays me good money. As a new graduate, I feel very blessed to have come across such great opportunities that will allow me to continually advance me toward my ultimate goal of being a public scholar-servant.
However, after reading pieces of "Do You!", I'm left wondering: Am I following the Universe's will for my life? Am I optimally passionate about my current and proposed future endeavors?
Is this what I'm supposed to be doing?
I love politics. I've always had a lot of respect for the ideal of Western democracy, and I feel like there is no more substantial, effective, meaningful, or resounding way to elicit change and herald ubiquitous justice than through the governmental process. As an underclassman I imagined my professional career looking a lot like that of a Dr. Cornel West or Dr. Michael Eric Dyson -- becoming a fierce public intellectual, a bastion of knowledge and social critique and a harbinger of revolutionary, paradigmatic shift. I would spend my days writing, speaking, and teaching the truth as I saw it -- educating the minds of the next generation and preparing the globe to catalyze and receive the new, more just and loving, world order. I wanted my influence to stretch far and wide, so much so that I could begin to ever-so-slightly mold the world into the gem I know it can be -- that it is.
By most people's standards, I'm on track with my dream -- graduate school is a year off, but still very much in the picture. I'm working my way into the local political scene and even flexing my (macabre) influence. Everything is going according to plan. Or is it?
I can't help but think of the dreams of my past -- those apparitions that used to sustain and inspire me, but now drag the bottom of my mind like dregs in a teacup. As much as I enjoy politics, as important I think government is and as much as I want to change the world through public service, I'm not sure if I'm as passionate about these things as I am about those dreams which I've let fall asunder. I wonder if that, was in fact, my purpose -- and, even though I'm seeking to do good through my current trajectory of professional endeavor, I wonder if I'll ever do as much good or be as fulfilled and happy and successful doing this instead of doing that.
Part of my query is born of fear of the road not traveled -- fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of self-disappointment -- could I even make my dream work? But most of my query is born of fear from of the road already traversed: How can I be sure of what it is that I'm supposed to do? Isn't now the time that I'm supposed to be making those definitive decisions? Is it too late to pursue that latent passion? Can I do both?
How do I know I'm doing what I'm meant to do?
Lately, I've been reading Russell Simmon's 2007 release "Do You!: 12 Laws to Access the Power in You to Achieve Happiness and Success". I'm not the biggest fan of self-help literature, but so far I'm impressed with Russell's message. Basically, he argues that in order for one to achieve the success and happiness they desire, both professionally and personally, one need look spiritually & introspectively to discern his/her passion and purpose and work stringently toward realizing them.
The concepts of purpose and passion are two things that have been resonating with me the past few days, thanks to Brother Russell. Considering the current economic forecast, I am fortunate to have found employment right out of undergrad. And I'm not talking about just a job, either -- we're talking employment that boosts my professional cred, is within my discipline, and pays me good money. As a new graduate, I feel very blessed to have come across such great opportunities that will allow me to continually advance me toward my ultimate goal of being a public scholar-servant.
However, after reading pieces of "Do You!", I'm left wondering: Am I following the Universe's will for my life? Am I optimally passionate about my current and proposed future endeavors?
Is this what I'm supposed to be doing?
I love politics. I've always had a lot of respect for the ideal of Western democracy, and I feel like there is no more substantial, effective, meaningful, or resounding way to elicit change and herald ubiquitous justice than through the governmental process. As an underclassman I imagined my professional career looking a lot like that of a Dr. Cornel West or Dr. Michael Eric Dyson -- becoming a fierce public intellectual, a bastion of knowledge and social critique and a harbinger of revolutionary, paradigmatic shift. I would spend my days writing, speaking, and teaching the truth as I saw it -- educating the minds of the next generation and preparing the globe to catalyze and receive the new, more just and loving, world order. I wanted my influence to stretch far and wide, so much so that I could begin to ever-so-slightly mold the world into the gem I know it can be -- that it is.
By most people's standards, I'm on track with my dream -- graduate school is a year off, but still very much in the picture. I'm working my way into the local political scene and even flexing my (macabre) influence. Everything is going according to plan. Or is it?
I can't help but think of the dreams of my past -- those apparitions that used to sustain and inspire me, but now drag the bottom of my mind like dregs in a teacup. As much as I enjoy politics, as important I think government is and as much as I want to change the world through public service, I'm not sure if I'm as passionate about these things as I am about those dreams which I've let fall asunder. I wonder if that, was in fact, my purpose -- and, even though I'm seeking to do good through my current trajectory of professional endeavor, I wonder if I'll ever do as much good or be as fulfilled and happy and successful doing this instead of doing that.
Part of my query is born of fear of the road not traveled -- fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of self-disappointment -- could I even make my dream work? But most of my query is born of fear from of the road already traversed: How can I be sure of what it is that I'm supposed to do? Isn't now the time that I'm supposed to be making those definitive decisions? Is it too late to pursue that latent passion? Can I do both?
How do I know I'm doing what I'm meant to do?
5/24/09
Day 7
"I Ain't Got It, Man...": Poverty, Justice, and Bootstraps Theory
For those of you who've been privileged enough to visit my residence, you would know that I live in a -- what we'll call "colorful" -- neighborhood. Just seconds walking distance from my beloved alma mater, my block is a regular motley crew, with ornaments of gunshots that pepper the night air's melody and a parade of female & transgender prostitutes who run their open-air ass market day and night.
All this withstanding, I'm actually quite the fan of my neighborhood -- save the occasional attempted break-in (propagated by punk kinds who don't live in my 'hood, to be fair...), I enjoy the dichotomous convalescence of class/profession/life experience that, ironically, unites us. I'm even friendly with a few of the regular "working gals" -- we trade stories and generally keep a look-out after one another and the neighborhood -- after all, it may not be much, but its OURS. And maybe it's a false sense of security, but I actually feel safe in my neighborhood -- smack dab in the middle of the ghetto.
The one condition of the impoverished experience that brings me the most annoyance (and, conversely, cause for self-reflection) is another element of my neighborhood and germane character of the cast: the vagrant. Don't get me wrong: Atlanta is full of 'em, and five years in the Big Peach has desensitized me to most forms of beggary -- men, women, disabled, even children (sadly). But there's another relationship to vagrancy that manifests when it congregates on your corners, walks your sidewalks, lives on your block, and rears itself every time you come home -- hell, it rings your doorbell and makes a pitch! I'm not arguing for or against the morality or social context of these person's economic condition/enterprise -- moreso, I seek to make a point:
"If we both live in the 'hood, why do you think I got it?!"
Until a week ago, I was a normal struggling college student -- now, I'm a struggling college graduate trying to budget my present expenses for my future expenses by my past expenses. I am in only a slightly better (and even that pronouncement is presumptuous, seeing as some of them are, technically, self-employed) fiscal situation than the one they occupy -- perhaps what they don't have in capital I make up for in student debt. Even still, I probably wouldn't abhor this phenomenon so...abhorrently, if it wasn't such a frequent occurrence. No joke, there are a few "regulars" who live near me that ask me for change every time they see me -- others still who come and knock on my door up to four times a week to request money for some ridiculous task (seriously, you need $2 to ride MARTA...at 1am? MARTA ain't thinking about you). Even still, that's not my biggest challenge, either.
As a conscious progressive and public servant who understands the societal oppressions that create such disenfranchised circumstances, I sit on a very interesting and conflicting proverbial fence. On the one hand, I sympathize with these "children of a lesser God", knowing that it is the same force that socially stymies them that has, more or less, allowed me to flourish. Call it liberal guilt, call it true racial empathy, but I feel like I'm at least partially party to their depressed situation. However, I simultaneously despise the contentment and complacency within which I feel these people operate -- I hate to admit it, but part of me thinks that perhaps their circumstances could be different if they just...you know...TRIED to change them. Are their only options for substantive employment and fulfillment relegated to the underpinnings of the social strata?
In the end, I feel like it is most probably a combination (perhaps not an equitable one, but a combination nonetheless) that creates the unique situation of our resident beggars and contributes to the unique character of my neighborhood. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, one way or the other. And maybe there's another piece to this that I'm missing completely -- one that explains way more about why things are the way they are than race theorists and social commentators can muster. Honestly, I'm more interested in discerning my responsibility to these persons, who for better or worse are still my geographic and human neighbor, and to the plight itself. How much am I warranted to give to fight this particular oppression? To the last corner of my pockets? And if I don't but give in other ways, what is the true integrity of my advocacy and progressive ideology?
As a new college graduate, how has my accountability to the community changed?
I don't have the answers. But until I find them, I guess I'll just keep some quarters handy...if I got 'em to spare.
For those of you who've been privileged enough to visit my residence, you would know that I live in a -- what we'll call "colorful" -- neighborhood. Just seconds walking distance from my beloved alma mater, my block is a regular motley crew, with ornaments of gunshots that pepper the night air's melody and a parade of female & transgender prostitutes who run their open-air ass market day and night.
All this withstanding, I'm actually quite the fan of my neighborhood -- save the occasional attempted break-in (propagated by punk kinds who don't live in my 'hood, to be fair...), I enjoy the dichotomous convalescence of class/profession/life experience that, ironically, unites us. I'm even friendly with a few of the regular "working gals" -- we trade stories and generally keep a look-out after one another and the neighborhood -- after all, it may not be much, but its OURS. And maybe it's a false sense of security, but I actually feel safe in my neighborhood -- smack dab in the middle of the ghetto.
The one condition of the impoverished experience that brings me the most annoyance (and, conversely, cause for self-reflection) is another element of my neighborhood and germane character of the cast: the vagrant. Don't get me wrong: Atlanta is full of 'em, and five years in the Big Peach has desensitized me to most forms of beggary -- men, women, disabled, even children (sadly). But there's another relationship to vagrancy that manifests when it congregates on your corners, walks your sidewalks, lives on your block, and rears itself every time you come home -- hell, it rings your doorbell and makes a pitch! I'm not arguing for or against the morality or social context of these person's economic condition/enterprise -- moreso, I seek to make a point:
"If we both live in the 'hood, why do you think I got it?!"
Until a week ago, I was a normal struggling college student -- now, I'm a struggling college graduate trying to budget my present expenses for my future expenses by my past expenses. I am in only a slightly better (and even that pronouncement is presumptuous, seeing as some of them are, technically, self-employed) fiscal situation than the one they occupy -- perhaps what they don't have in capital I make up for in student debt. Even still, I probably wouldn't abhor this phenomenon so...abhorrently, if it wasn't such a frequent occurrence. No joke, there are a few "regulars" who live near me that ask me for change every time they see me -- others still who come and knock on my door up to four times a week to request money for some ridiculous task (seriously, you need $2 to ride MARTA...at 1am? MARTA ain't thinking about you). Even still, that's not my biggest challenge, either.
As a conscious progressive and public servant who understands the societal oppressions that create such disenfranchised circumstances, I sit on a very interesting and conflicting proverbial fence. On the one hand, I sympathize with these "children of a lesser God", knowing that it is the same force that socially stymies them that has, more or less, allowed me to flourish. Call it liberal guilt, call it true racial empathy, but I feel like I'm at least partially party to their depressed situation. However, I simultaneously despise the contentment and complacency within which I feel these people operate -- I hate to admit it, but part of me thinks that perhaps their circumstances could be different if they just...you know...TRIED to change them. Are their only options for substantive employment and fulfillment relegated to the underpinnings of the social strata?
In the end, I feel like it is most probably a combination (perhaps not an equitable one, but a combination nonetheless) that creates the unique situation of our resident beggars and contributes to the unique character of my neighborhood. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, one way or the other. And maybe there's another piece to this that I'm missing completely -- one that explains way more about why things are the way they are than race theorists and social commentators can muster. Honestly, I'm more interested in discerning my responsibility to these persons, who for better or worse are still my geographic and human neighbor, and to the plight itself. How much am I warranted to give to fight this particular oppression? To the last corner of my pockets? And if I don't but give in other ways, what is the true integrity of my advocacy and progressive ideology?
As a new college graduate, how has my accountability to the community changed?
I don't have the answers. But until I find them, I guess I'll just keep some quarters handy...if I got 'em to spare.
5/21/09
Day 5
There's No Business Like Show Business...and Politics
...everything about it is appealing. Particularly in Atlanta.
I remember one of my best friends telling my about a dream they had a while back: in the dream, he was looking out on to an expanse of all of the promise of his wildest fantasies -- every goal, every wish. As he looked out over the horizon of achievable possibility, he heard a voice. The voice said to him: "I will give you all of this that you see here -- everything you've ever wanted and more."
"What are you going to do with it?"
Five days out of undergrad and I'm well on my way to forging a professional life for myself. And I find myself in a similar situation.
Throughout my senior year, I was working part-time for a state representative as her aide during the 2009 session of the Georgia General Assembly. That gig has led to a "promotion" as her new Chief-of-Staff through next year's legislative session. From that opportunity I've also been extended an offer to work as finance director on a city-wide city council campaign and am quite possibly on my way toward getting hired on one of the local mayoral campaigns. AND I'm slated to start working part-time for a national school choice organization helping them plan their fall conference.
Point: I'm exactly where I want to be, with the tools and faculty to get where I want to go.
However, it would be disingenuous for me to pretend as if it's all clear skies. I mean, can I handle all of this? Do I really have the skills? Am I worth what I say am I? Can I make it in politics?
If nothing else, this past week has given me a mini-crash course in what it takes to make it in this town. Some quick lessons I've learned:
Lesson #1: Never commit until you've thoroughly considered all of your options.
I found myself in an almost-pickle when I committed to working on one campaign (out of sheer thrill that somebody actually wanted to hire me) right before another desirable opportunity came along. I'm still not sure if the latter is going to materialize like I want it to, but at least my options are open so that whatever comes along and whatever I want to do -- I have the freedom to do it.
Lesson #2: You are only as good as your actions.
Certainly we all know (or should know) that a person's integrity is the cornerstone of his/her/their character. What I've come to realize is that your worth is only as worthy what you do -- not what you say. This week I've found myself in a few situations in which I've mildly had to "show and prove". Sometimes I excelled, and maybe a few of those times I fell short. However, as I move forward I know one things is for sure: talk, in this industry, is cheap -- the only things that are important are what you know and what you can do.
Lesson #3: Be Prepared. Always be prepared.
Former Boy Scouts have a heads-up on this one. I've certainly learned the value of being bold this week. The meek and feeble get chewed up and spit out in politics -- if you want something, you've got to be gutsy and go for it, whatever it is. In the words of Jamal Simmons, the only ones without scrapes and bruises are those sitting on the sidelines. The upshot: you've got to know your stuff. When you move, you have to know where you're going, how to get there, and why getting there is important. Otherwise, you'll get lost.
From these lessons (and the bounty I'm sure to learn), I can confidently say that I know what I'm going to do with all that is given to me, and that I'll eventually find out how to get there. But I can't help but wonder:
Do I really have what it takes?
...everything about it is appealing. Particularly in Atlanta.
I remember one of my best friends telling my about a dream they had a while back: in the dream, he was looking out on to an expanse of all of the promise of his wildest fantasies -- every goal, every wish. As he looked out over the horizon of achievable possibility, he heard a voice. The voice said to him: "I will give you all of this that you see here -- everything you've ever wanted and more."
"What are you going to do with it?"
Five days out of undergrad and I'm well on my way to forging a professional life for myself. And I find myself in a similar situation.
Throughout my senior year, I was working part-time for a state representative as her aide during the 2009 session of the Georgia General Assembly. That gig has led to a "promotion" as her new Chief-of-Staff through next year's legislative session. From that opportunity I've also been extended an offer to work as finance director on a city-wide city council campaign and am quite possibly on my way toward getting hired on one of the local mayoral campaigns. AND I'm slated to start working part-time for a national school choice organization helping them plan their fall conference.
Point: I'm exactly where I want to be, with the tools and faculty to get where I want to go.
However, it would be disingenuous for me to pretend as if it's all clear skies. I mean, can I handle all of this? Do I really have the skills? Am I worth what I say am I? Can I make it in politics?
If nothing else, this past week has given me a mini-crash course in what it takes to make it in this town. Some quick lessons I've learned:
Lesson #1: Never commit until you've thoroughly considered all of your options.
I found myself in an almost-pickle when I committed to working on one campaign (out of sheer thrill that somebody actually wanted to hire me) right before another desirable opportunity came along. I'm still not sure if the latter is going to materialize like I want it to, but at least my options are open so that whatever comes along and whatever I want to do -- I have the freedom to do it.
Lesson #2: You are only as good as your actions.
Certainly we all know (or should know) that a person's integrity is the cornerstone of his/her/their character. What I've come to realize is that your worth is only as worthy what you do -- not what you say. This week I've found myself in a few situations in which I've mildly had to "show and prove". Sometimes I excelled, and maybe a few of those times I fell short. However, as I move forward I know one things is for sure: talk, in this industry, is cheap -- the only things that are important are what you know and what you can do.
Lesson #3: Be Prepared. Always be prepared.
Former Boy Scouts have a heads-up on this one. I've certainly learned the value of being bold this week. The meek and feeble get chewed up and spit out in politics -- if you want something, you've got to be gutsy and go for it, whatever it is. In the words of Jamal Simmons, the only ones without scrapes and bruises are those sitting on the sidelines. The upshot: you've got to know your stuff. When you move, you have to know where you're going, how to get there, and why getting there is important. Otherwise, you'll get lost.
From these lessons (and the bounty I'm sure to learn), I can confidently say that I know what I'm going to do with all that is given to me, and that I'll eventually find out how to get there. But I can't help but wonder:
Do I really have what it takes?
5/19/09
Day 2
Spring Cleaning
One of the unfortunate side effects of celebrating your 23rd birthday and college graduation in the same weekend is that your room -- scratch that, your house -- turns into a shitty abyss of mess and trash that would piss of Merry Maids.
So is the current state of my residence: bestrewn with random articles of clothing that God herself couldn't discern between clean and dirty -- littered with the oddest assortment of knick-knacks that, when placed properly, add life and character to the atmosphere, but in their current positions are just shit hiding my carpet, which looks as if it has been on the streets for weeks begging ambivalent pedestrians for change.
Yes, it's time to clean.
It's funny how one's emotion, thought, spirit -- that metaphysical essence that defines oneself -- manifests in the material world that one occupies. Take me for example. Even though I've got a degree and a (loose) plan for what I want to do with my life, right now I'm totally lost in a sea of doubt and confusion. Should I pursue Option A or Option B? And what about Options C & D? And what about rent? Should I move? How? How am I going to accomplish all of this? My life is filled with a mess of questions -- and my room is just filled with a mess.
The good news is that I do have a life vest -- I know where it is I want to go, what it is that I want to do. My problem is that I'm not quite sure of the best way to get there -- or that I can even take advantage of certain avenues leading to my destination. And in the meantime, a brother got bills...
Honestly, I'm not too worried -- I mean, something has to open up for me, right? I'm a firm believer that the Universe will take care of those who position themselves to receive and optimize opportunity. I think that I've taken (or am taking) good care of the latter, so its just a matter of time before I receive the former. Or am I?
Hence, the spring cleaning. I think it's time that I dedicate myself fully to posturing my life for opportunity and blessing. Not in an empty, cliche way -- I'm talking about truly becoming the change in my circumstance that I wish to see. If I'm going to get the kind of job I want without settling because I need the money -- If I'm going to do the kind of work I want to do and make the kind of money I want to make doing it -- If I'm going to be the beast I know I am: I've got to work for it. And it starts with cleansing myself not only of the distracting debris and clutter that shields my aspirations, but polishing my plan and really making it shine -- that way, I know how to work it and what to do when it works.
So, looks like I've got some cleaning to do.
But my room can wait.
One of the unfortunate side effects of celebrating your 23rd birthday and college graduation in the same weekend is that your room -- scratch that, your house -- turns into a shitty abyss of mess and trash that would piss of Merry Maids.
So is the current state of my residence: bestrewn with random articles of clothing that God herself couldn't discern between clean and dirty -- littered with the oddest assortment of knick-knacks that, when placed properly, add life and character to the atmosphere, but in their current positions are just shit hiding my carpet, which looks as if it has been on the streets for weeks begging ambivalent pedestrians for change.
Yes, it's time to clean.
It's funny how one's emotion, thought, spirit -- that metaphysical essence that defines oneself -- manifests in the material world that one occupies. Take me for example. Even though I've got a degree and a (loose) plan for what I want to do with my life, right now I'm totally lost in a sea of doubt and confusion. Should I pursue Option A or Option B? And what about Options C & D? And what about rent? Should I move? How? How am I going to accomplish all of this? My life is filled with a mess of questions -- and my room is just filled with a mess.
The good news is that I do have a life vest -- I know where it is I want to go, what it is that I want to do. My problem is that I'm not quite sure of the best way to get there -- or that I can even take advantage of certain avenues leading to my destination. And in the meantime, a brother got bills...
Honestly, I'm not too worried -- I mean, something has to open up for me, right? I'm a firm believer that the Universe will take care of those who position themselves to receive and optimize opportunity. I think that I've taken (or am taking) good care of the latter, so its just a matter of time before I receive the former. Or am I?
Hence, the spring cleaning. I think it's time that I dedicate myself fully to posturing my life for opportunity and blessing. Not in an empty, cliche way -- I'm talking about truly becoming the change in my circumstance that I wish to see. If I'm going to get the kind of job I want without settling because I need the money -- If I'm going to do the kind of work I want to do and make the kind of money I want to make doing it -- If I'm going to be the beast I know I am: I've got to work for it. And it starts with cleansing myself not only of the distracting debris and clutter that shields my aspirations, but polishing my plan and really making it shine -- that way, I know how to work it and what to do when it works.
So, looks like I've got some cleaning to do.
But my room can wait.
5/18/09
Day 1
It's over.
It's been more than 24 hours since I received my degree from Morehouse College. Commencement has commenced -- and ended. The family has come and gone, the degree has been conferred. Five years of delayed gratification has culminated in one poignant and exhilarating ultimate. And as I sit here, champagne in one hand and a tear-stained cheek in the other, it’s all I can think:
It's over.
College is over.
Morehouse is over.
The late nights laughing it up with roommates when I should have been studying. Conversations & debates with brothers at the Brown Street polis. Drunken nights at football games, house parties…well, drunken nights. Fried Chicken Wednesday. Miss Maroon & White. SGA Spring Elections. Hump Wednesday. Jazzman’s.
Most everything that’s mattered to me for the last five years –
It’s over.
Graduation was nothing less than a celebration for me – no tears, few frowns, and mostly smiles. I was happy that I had finally finished, and even happier that I am now finally able to start the next grand phase of my life’s journey. Now, just a little over a day after I’ve graduated from my alma mater, I am hit with a rush of sorrow and nostalgic sentiment. Not only am I no longer a Morehouse College student, but I will never be a student at Morehouse again. Ever. And while there’s definitely a hint of the recognition of passing time and my own mortality that are informing my present state of mind, what’s making me the most upset – by far – is the emerging realization that my undergraduate years, undoubtedly the best years of my life, are forever gone with little hope of being accurately mimicked – the Morehouse experience is too authentic and unique to be imitated or mocked by any other entity.
As a good friend recently put it, “Morehouse, for better and surely for worse, is home.” I’ve taken my last walk through campus as a Man of Morehouse, with brothers with whom I’ve matriculated that I will very probably never see or hear from again. And now…now I am charged to leave home and pave my own way – a trailblazing path of excellence for myself that my brothers behind me can maximize and the world can optimize.
All I want to do is crawl back in my bed in 305 Brazeal and wait for my chance to experience the magic all over again. But while I realize that I’ll always have the Mystique, I also understand that Morehouse now belongs to the new breed. Certainly, if home is where the heart is, then my residence will always lay at 830 Westview Drive, SW.
With all of its flaws, promise, challenges, growth, fuck-ups and triumphs, I love and will always love Morehouse College. For everything it is. For everything it has made me. The last five years of my life – complete with pain, struggle, joy and victory – have been beyond great. I feel blessed and privileged to have experienced the people I’ve meet, the friends I’ve love, the memories I’ve made and the lessons I’ve learned in this short time. And now…
It’s over.
It’s sad, scary even – to be on the cusp of great change. But I recognize it too as good and necessary. Sure, without change there’s no heartache – but there’s no progress, either. And Morehouse Men are neither stagnant nor mediocre.
So, I’m going to wipe the tears of sorrow from my face and instead raise my chalice in toast to Dear Old Morehouse – my first love, whom I’ll always remember and have a fond place in my heart for. Thank you for making me steadfast, honest, and true. I will never forget your wisdom, your guidance, your legacy or your beauty...
I will never forget I am a Morehouse Man. I’m very much looking forward to the next time I come home to visit my mother and brothers.
It’s over – but the journey has just begun.
It's been more than 24 hours since I received my degree from Morehouse College. Commencement has commenced -- and ended. The family has come and gone, the degree has been conferred. Five years of delayed gratification has culminated in one poignant and exhilarating ultimate. And as I sit here, champagne in one hand and a tear-stained cheek in the other, it’s all I can think:
It's over.
College is over.
Morehouse is over.
The late nights laughing it up with roommates when I should have been studying. Conversations & debates with brothers at the Brown Street polis. Drunken nights at football games, house parties…well, drunken nights. Fried Chicken Wednesday. Miss Maroon & White. SGA Spring Elections. Hump Wednesday. Jazzman’s.
Most everything that’s mattered to me for the last five years –
It’s over.
Graduation was nothing less than a celebration for me – no tears, few frowns, and mostly smiles. I was happy that I had finally finished, and even happier that I am now finally able to start the next grand phase of my life’s journey. Now, just a little over a day after I’ve graduated from my alma mater, I am hit with a rush of sorrow and nostalgic sentiment. Not only am I no longer a Morehouse College student, but I will never be a student at Morehouse again. Ever. And while there’s definitely a hint of the recognition of passing time and my own mortality that are informing my present state of mind, what’s making me the most upset – by far – is the emerging realization that my undergraduate years, undoubtedly the best years of my life, are forever gone with little hope of being accurately mimicked – the Morehouse experience is too authentic and unique to be imitated or mocked by any other entity.
As a good friend recently put it, “Morehouse, for better and surely for worse, is home.” I’ve taken my last walk through campus as a Man of Morehouse, with brothers with whom I’ve matriculated that I will very probably never see or hear from again. And now…now I am charged to leave home and pave my own way – a trailblazing path of excellence for myself that my brothers behind me can maximize and the world can optimize.
All I want to do is crawl back in my bed in 305 Brazeal and wait for my chance to experience the magic all over again. But while I realize that I’ll always have the Mystique, I also understand that Morehouse now belongs to the new breed. Certainly, if home is where the heart is, then my residence will always lay at 830 Westview Drive, SW.
With all of its flaws, promise, challenges, growth, fuck-ups and triumphs, I love and will always love Morehouse College. For everything it is. For everything it has made me. The last five years of my life – complete with pain, struggle, joy and victory – have been beyond great. I feel blessed and privileged to have experienced the people I’ve meet, the friends I’ve love, the memories I’ve made and the lessons I’ve learned in this short time. And now…
It’s over.
It’s sad, scary even – to be on the cusp of great change. But I recognize it too as good and necessary. Sure, without change there’s no heartache – but there’s no progress, either. And Morehouse Men are neither stagnant nor mediocre.
So, I’m going to wipe the tears of sorrow from my face and instead raise my chalice in toast to Dear Old Morehouse – my first love, whom I’ll always remember and have a fond place in my heart for. Thank you for making me steadfast, honest, and true. I will never forget your wisdom, your guidance, your legacy or your beauty...
I will never forget I am a Morehouse Man. I’m very much looking forward to the next time I come home to visit my mother and brothers.
It’s over – but the journey has just begun.
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