During the era I was brought up in, leadership meant something. Back then, mostly everybody in the community respected the leaders in the Black community.
In my lifetime and even before, White folks have always been called, “White”; Indians have always been called, “Indians”; individuals of Chinese descent have always been labeled “Chinese”; the same for Hispanics/Mexicans and the other nationalities which are represented across this nation.
I have to revisit this subject because it is an element that is constantly attacking our communities. When I see the state of Black America as it is, and when I speak to many mis-educated degreed folks; I can only shake my head.
Recently, I sat and thought on the ending of the last sermon Dr. King preached in Memphis, Tennessee, just a day before he was assassinated in 1968. My mind went on a 50-year journey, reflecting back on all of the changes, we Africans living in America have experienced over the years.
About five years ago, I attended a high school senior’s graduation party. The honoree was a young man I knew since birth. Guests arrived moments early to discuss the party’s agenda. Parents, grandparents, teachers, siblings, family, and friends were among the invited guests.
It is clear now that the 45thpresident of the United States is knowingly or unwittingly a tool of the Russian government. But for many years before the dumpster fire in the White House came into office, the Kremlin has been wielding a secret weapon against the “land of the free.”
Without the power to communicate, I truly believe African-Americans would be in a situation worse than they are. African-American journalists have a very important role in providing essential information to people who are not considered to be credible.
As an African-American man “raised” in America, I have personally witnessed disrespect, unfairness, racism and other un-American characterization displayed frequently against Black people in general and Black males specifically.
In the book Becoming by Michelle Obama, she talks about a time when she was talking with some girls her age. One of the girls asked, “How come you talk like a White girl?” When I read this, it immediately resonated with me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told, “You sound like a White girl.”