Which Black Lives Matter!?

I have come to a realization that there is a word missing in the ubiquitous mantra Black Lives Matter, and that word is “SOME”!  And it is with intrepid indignation that I write this blog. It is absolutely vexing to me that a community can so blatantly and boisterously march to such a hypocritical drum.

 

Do black lives matter? Yes! But all lives matter. Moreover, all black lives matter. This is a point that seems to have escaped the faux-crusaders who want to decry injustice when a white police officer kills a black man.  How these same protesters are conspicuously absent from the inner city streets where countless black lives are extinguished by other black lives in senseless violence is confounding to me. If indeed black lives matter, shouldn’t the black community itself lead by example and demonstrate this as the rule and not the exception?

Black lives matter, but black lives must matter to the black community first before the community implores others to do the same. Instead of having one Toya Graham, the Baltimore mother who beat her son for rioting, and a thousand apathetic who-ha’s proclaiming their child’s incapacity for anything violent or illegal, we should see just the opposite. The black community should be able to identify the guilty, inform their parents, and hold all parties accountable.

If you think I am crazy, think again!

Growing up, any adult in my community was given tacit approval to correct me and/or take me to my parents. From a very early age my parents articulated to me my responsibility to represent myself and by extension the family well in the community. Even as a child I understood the embarrassment and shame I was capable of inflicting should I do anything to besmirch our reputation in our surrounding community. I was accountable not only to my family but also to those countless families that lived in our immediate area. There were no signs, posters, or public service announcements to remind me of this, it was understood by me and every other adolescent that populated our neighborhood; and that is where it started … and ended, for that matter!

The black community should be angry, and not with the police or the government. The black community should be angry with itself. The community should be apoplectic at its apathetic indifference to its own responsibility. The onus is on the community itself to right the ship. The majority of guns aimed at the community come from within the community, not the police. The death and destruction inflicted on our sons and daughters, mothers and fathers finds its origin many times in our own backyards. Our willful disregard of these facts is no longer acceptable. In fact, it is criminal and detestable. It is not until we stand accountable for our own failures, our own tolerances, and our own indiscretion that we can proudly stand united and thwart injustice emanating from outside of our community. For as long as we perpetuate and perpetrate egregious hate, murder, misogyny, and countless other immoralities within our own ranks, we will never rise above a milieu rife with death, destruction, and interminable failure and shame.

If the black community needs a rallying point let it be their neighborhood streets where they can once again perpetuate strong values and morals that permeate the fabric of the community and every family in it. Once again hold parents accountable and charge them with the responsibility to lead the way by example. And if the parent fails to meet that charge, hold them responsible and culpable. Indifference and loyalty to an absurd code of silence is unacceptable and inane. All lives matter. And if you portend to others that black lives matter but don’t demonstrate that in your own community, then you are a liar and a hypocrite by definition. You want to hold up a sign that says black lives matter? Do it in the inner city streets where black teenagers are being gunned down by black teenagers. Do it in the shadows where teenage boys and teenage girls have unprotected sex spreading disease and creating babies with a greater promise of a single parent and failure rather than one of family and success. Do it on the corners and in the flop houses where drug dealers peddle meth, crack, and weed to our community all under the guise of a hustle. Do it in the homes where the mothers and fathers are more absorbed in their own indiscretions, forgoing discipline and love for their kids, failing to ensure strong values and appropriate choices. If you want someone indicted for abuse and neglect, violence and indifference towards the black community, we need to indict ourselves. And I am positive with this indictment will come an unequivocal guilty verdict. And the sentence, of course, should be a lifetime of community service.

I suggest instead of holding up signs that say black lives matter we should start using the hashtag #ACCOUNTABILITY. If we don’t care, who will!?

S. McGill

One of the most powerful things in the world can be obtained and used liberally by anyone who chooses to use it.  "If" can be the beginning of something great or the acquiescence to defeat. How will you use your "if"?

Time Will Tell

It seems not too long ago that I was the youngest one in the room. At work I was the hungry go-getter who wanted to prove that I could handle the toughest jobs, that I could save the world. I was eager to accept the most difficult challenges, using my professional prowess to win the day. Personally it was my desire to right every wrong and raise my flag on every hill, gaining justice for all. I was indefatigable in my efforts, uninhibited by any obstacle, impervious to defeat.

And then …

I had an epiphany.

Something has changed.

I am now one of the old-heads. The Millennials are now the future and I am the old guy in the corner with the sour coffee breath grunting at every whisper of optimism. I shrug my shoulders in ambivalence when faced with change and sneer in delight when an up-and-comer evinces grandiose ideas of change and improvement.  And though I cannot put my finger on the exact time or place when I crossed the threshold from young and vibrant to old and crotchety, I am cognizant of the fact that indeed this epoch has passed.

The interesting thing is I am alright with being this guy. It may sound strange, but I see myself as taking the torch from my elders continuing the legacy perpetuated by those who came before me. I am part of that history we don’t want to repeat. My cynicism is not so much destructive as it is cautionary.  My aim is not to quell the fires of optimism and enthusiasm as much as it is to temper the spirit and harden the resolve; because I know that victory is not the all or nothing we seek when we are young and spry but the compromise between failure and success. And this is not a concession that total victory is unobtainable, yet the acknowledgement that the energy expended and casualties amassed from such efforts can sometimes be pyrrhic.

The truth is we all have this old person in us from day one. When we are young we don’t listen to the inner-old because it is safe, boring, predictable, skeptical, and cynical. The inner-old is no fun, a Debbie Downer. But what we find as we get older is that the inner-old is right most of the time. And at that moment we begin to recognize and listen to the inner-old is when youthful naivety slips away and seasoned experience takes the wheel.

Take Bill Cosby – ok, I couldn’t resist – he is the personification of what I am trying to say here. I grew up with the Coz as my moral conscious. I loved Fat Albert. Moreover, I was enamored of Mudfoot and his wisdom – if you are asking yourself who is Mudfoot, now is the time to skip to the next paragraph, for this will be lost on you. Mudfoot’s moral integrity and salient wisdom always came at the right time to help guide the Gang in the right direction. And although they still encountered troubles, life lessons were always imparted to the Gang and me when Mudfoot spoke. What’s ironic is that this wisdom, presumably, was coming from a young Bill Cosby. Who, while imparting this knowledge, was allegedly sexually violating scores of women in his real life.   It is the epitome of contradictions. Cosby, an icon and moralist who clearly grasped the vileness of moral turpitude juxtaposed with the importance of personal humility and integrity himself failed to heed the cautions of his inner-old.

The point is not to deride the young and ambitious, making them capitulate to the notion that there is no hope -- quite the contrary. I want the young to be dubious of their heroes. I want their enthusiasm to be measured and their resolve calculated. And though I want to be heard and my cautions heeded, I also want to be proven wrong. I want to see the person heralded for being good and righteous live up to that moniker. I want to see societal change that embraces tolerance, freedom, and unity. I want to believe that our Constitution is predicated on the premise that all men are created equal. I want to believe our judicial system adheres to the edict that every man is innocent until proven guilty. I want to believe that those charged with leading the way do so with humility, integrity, and compassion; ensuring that those who follow are afforded equal opportunity to enjoy the inalienable rights to live, work and thrive in their community without the fear of persecution or prejudice. The truth is, though, I can no longer hush my inner-old. I am relegated to the park bench where I am left to impart my knowledge, wave the proverbial yellow flag of caution, and extol the lessons of my experience to ensure the young go-getters are prepared for what lies before them. And though my inner-old now reconciles that though much has changed much has stayed the same, my now subdued inner-youth whispers in defiance, still believing and routing for the Good to prevail and the happily ever after is achieved. 

S. McGill
One of the most powerful things in the world can be obtained and used liberally by anyone who chooses to use it.  "If" can be the beginning of something great or the acquiescence to defeat. How will you use your "if"?