Directly to the Point

It occurred to me recently (as in, ten minutes ago) that people very often describe themselves as “direct,” but in reality…they are not. Alas, I have found myself in that category on many an occasion. But, I posit, this happens most often not because I do not want to be a direct person, but because social norms and individual situations dictate that I must not be a direct person. By ‘social norms’ I mean that it is typically considered rude or insensitive when you are too direct (of course varying based on context and culture), and by ‘individual situations’ I mean situations with individuals, where most of the people I interact with do not want me to be direct (e.g., they will take it too personally). Therefore, as a rough estimation I would say that 98% of the time I am not direct because I believe I can’t be, and 11% of the time I am not direct because I am at heart a nice guy who doesn’t want to hurt people’s feelings. (Yes, that is more than 100%, but I’m allowing for some overlap of the two reasons. I can count, thank you.) But this is outside the purview of my point.

Back to those who describe themselves as “direct,” but who are not. Yes, I believe there are others who might describe their own indirectness in the same fashion I did my own, but this is largely irrelevant. I am speaking specifically about those who engage in interaction with an explicit ‘other,’ and describe themselves as “direct,” possibly with a sentence such as “I am a very direct person: I prefer to just tell it like it is, and I’d rather you do the same with me. There’s no reason to ever beat around the bush, just be straight up.” Many people who engage in this sort of self-imposed attribution are probably not aware that they are lying. (Ok, that might be a bit too direct and harsh: they are not telling the truth.) What they are really saying is, “I prefer to be mostly direct with you, most of the time. But you should be completely direct with me. Mostly.” Very different statement. And the reason I say people who really feel this way are not “direct” is because if you are not completely direct, then by definition you are indirect, which is NOT DIRECT.

I’ll make my case in a couple quick ways. If you think about “directness” on a moving scale, then at the far right you have “Direct” and the far left you have “Indirect.” “But wait,” you say. “There are degrees of directness – I can be somewhat direct or very direct.” False. You cannot. There are varying degrees of indirectness only. Look at the definition for the word “direct,” in its adverb form in which we use it in this context: “proceeding in a straight line or by the shortest course; straight; undeviating; not oblique;”¹ “stemming immediately from a source;” ² “having no compromising or impairing element.” ² You will see there is no room for being less than direct. Therefore, anything less than or not completely direct is some varying degree of indirect. To put it another way, using a spatial analogy, if you said you were going to go directly to the store, you only went directly there if you did not go or stop anywhere else on the way. For those naysayers who would attempt to debunk this example by saying that one could go directly to the store using a circuitous route (i.e. take a longer route, but not make any stops), I say again that this is indirect, as it stands in direct opposition to the definition of direct. Direct is “by the shortest course,” or it is not direct. Sorry.

I posit that those who claim they are “direct” people but make relational “stops” or use “circuitous routes” with those to whom they assert their directness are in actuality being some degree of “indirect.” Possibly a low level, but still indirect at base. And therefore, not direct. Now, this isn’t a judgmental thrashing of those to whom this applies. More of a call to thought: possibly you should consider what you are really saying, what you want to say, and how you should classify/express yourself to others (particularly those who, like me, would expect someone who told us they were going to be direct to actually be direct).

I believe “directness” gets a bad rap. Most people tend to see being “direct” as being somehow insensitive, or thoughtless. I postulate that it can be the exact opposite (although admittedly, not always; it depends on the individual’s personality). Being direct typically requires some level of forethought – how else would you know what the most direct route was? I think indirect communication can sometimes be one of the greatest flaws of human interaction. How can we expect others to know exactly what we mean or think if we won’t tell them explicitly? Many a relationship (platonic, romantic, familial, whatever) has probably been ruined, or in the least greatly strained, unnecessarily, because people won’t talk to others with direction and purpose. Don’t get me wrong, indirectness certainly has its place, but I think we should use it like salt or alcohol – in moderation.

-JMC-

Developing the Whole Self

I recently had a conversation with a good friend that was difficult, but in the end, very enlightening and uplifting. He spoke about discontentment with his life: with his romantic endeavors, his current intellectual pursuits, the direction of his life, everything. He described how the other day, he participated in an activity I personally know for him has been one of his greatest joys for years, yet he experienced not one ounce of enjoyment on this occasion. He also said something that I believe was key: that when he put his life in perspective, he could not think of one reason why he should be discontent – by most standards, he is doing incredibly well, and many people would probably give almost anything to be in his shoes (literally and figuratively) – but he still felt unhappy. He could not put his finger on the source of his dissatisfaction with his life, but he felt it acutely all the same.

I say this conversation was difficult for two reasons. First, it was hard hearing a friend for whom I care deeply describing the pain and struggle he was experiencing. Second, I completely understand how he feels, because I have felt this way before myself. I am an excessive worrier by nature, and have been prone to (and struggled with) depression as long as I can remember. I’ve been in the place where I was completely unhappy with my life, despite not being able to specify the origin of my discontent and all outward signs being antithetical to me “needing” to feel that way. I literally felt my friend’s pain, and that was difficult. But the conversation was also enlightening and uplifting, because of the resultant discussion, and I believe it was so for both my friend and me.

As we were talking, what stuck out to me was his comment about not being able to pinpoint the source of his discontentment. Everything on the outside was technically good, maybe even great, by most standards, which to me pointed to something internal that wasn’t in place. I talked to my friend about a few things I’ve noticed. He has always been an intellectual, and makes sure he keeps his mind sharp by consuming information, whether it’s technical knowledge for his job or schooling, current events and politics, sports, or personal interests. He has an enviable social life, consistently making time for friends, fellowship, and fun. He also exercises regularly, and is conscientious about eating a healthy diet. He takes care of himself well, mentally, socially, and physically…but there was a piece I saw missing, which for me directly correlates with the internal self which for him was out of alignment: spirituality.

So often we as humans seem to forget that we are beings made up of multiple parts, and that in order to be whole, we need to maintain all of those parts. I believe that essentially, there are four aspects to our wellbeing: physical, mental, social, and spiritual. These can be further broken down into smaller divisions, which many theories do, but in a gross sense, these cover everything. As humans we have a physical body, and we have to take care of it. Almost everything we do is executed through physical movement or processes. In fact, if these physical processes ever stop working, you’re typically dead (for instance breathing – if your lungs cease to work, you will either need a machine to do it for you, or you will die). In the same way, we have to take care of our mental functions. If you don’t keep your mind sharp by learning new things, or staying engaged in those things you know, you will become stagnant and unproductive, and your life will be that much harder. We humans are also social creatures; we exist in relation to others. Yes, there are varying degrees to which people desire or need contact with other people, but fundamentally we are built to work, play, live, be with others, to be social. But there is also an internal aspect to our nature: spirituality. People may call it different things, but the essence remains the same – there is something within each of us that makes us unique and different, that gives us life, often referred to as a soul or spirit. And it needs to be maintained as well. So many people do things to work on one or two aspects of their lives to the neglect of other areas, and often the area that gets the least attention is the one that, arguably, needs the most – the spirit. It’s when you neglect the spirit, the internal, that everything on the outside can be going perfectly yet you still feel unfulfilled.

For me, my spirituality manifests itself through my faith in God, so that’s what I spoke to my friend about. I told him about how, when I was experiencing a similar phase in my life (I should say phases, because it’s happened more than once), while it was extremely helpful to have strong support from my family and friends, what really brought me through was my faith in God, that He was in control of my life and I could trust Him completely. There’s a verse in the Bible that addresses worry and anxiety, Philippians 4:6, which says that we should not worry about anything, but instead, through prayer (and with thanks), present everything to God. What I shared with my friend specifically though was the verse that follows that, verse 7, which states: “and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your heart and mind.” For me, that verse is applicable to more than just worry. My friend described a feeling that he could not specifically pinpoint that was causing him to be discontent – a feeling that he could not understand. In a situation like that, you need a peace that transcends all understanding, and God promises that if you bring things to Him through prayer, He will give you that peace. I suggested that my friend actively work on that part of his life, his spiritual wellbeing, with the same intentionality that I witness him pursuing the other aspects of his life. And the same should be true for everybody else, myself included.

As I said previously, this was an enlightening and uplifting conversation, for me as well. I say that for two reasons. One, I believe God orchestrated this discussion in part to give me an occasion to share my faith in a way in which I was comfortable. I am not shy about my beliefs, but unless someone asks me about them I rarely go out of my way to share, because I never want to be seen as a “pushy” Christian, or someone who is trying to thrust his beliefs upon another – but I do recognize that as a Christian, I am called to tell others about Christ. God knows me better than I know myself, and that I’ve been thinking about this issue a lot, so he gave me the perfect chance to speak up without feeling pushy. Second, this conversation gave me another reminder to keep my own spiritual wellbeing in the forefront of my mind. I often fall into the (unintentional) trap of working on one aspect of my life to the neglect of others, and constant reminders help me stay fresh in my commitment to my own development.

I truly believe that it is important for everybody to find some spiritual grounding, whatever that means for them individually. That can be through some organized religion, or many other outlets. If for you that is a religious affiliation, are you reading your Bible, Quran, or whatever holy text you follow? Are you meeting regularly with others who share your beliefs? Are you praying, or maybe just sitting quietly and meditating? It’s crucial that you find whatever that thing is for you, and you actively develop it, for your own wellbeing. If you work on this foundational aspect of your life, you will likely find that everything else seems to fall into place much more easily…and in turn, you will probably be much more content.

-JMC-

Beyond face value

I guess I’m at the point in my life where as a man I want to wanted, liked, and appreciated for being more than attractive. Yes. The subject of this post is fairly obvious and there are several ways you can come at the subject. So, for the sake of clarity and brevity I’ll frame how I’m thinking about it and what led me to such thinking.

Earlier this week I was out at a party having a good time among friends. People were enjoying themselves, drinks were had, attractive women smiled. A scene I’m all too familiar with. Later on in the evening I was complimented by a young lady. By young I mean 21 young. It was flattering and cute but it didn’t hold much weight. I kindly thanked her and was pretty sure I didn’t want to continue a conversation with her. I was naïve in knowing that this compliment was her way of making a move. Granted, this too is a scenario I’m familiar with but somehow in my mind I see it playing out differently. Nonetheless, a pseudo-conversation ensued wherein I smiled thanking her for her compliments and such all while alluding to the fact that I wasn’t interested. The reason I wasn’t interested is because I didn’t get from her that she wanted to know me beyond me being attractive. I also perceived based on our conversation that she wouldn’t know what to do with me and would therefore become disenchanted.  What I mean here is that there is a lot to me and not everyone can appreciate that “a lot”. That “a lot” entails my love of reading, my fascination with thinking, and a host of other interests that come along with being me. Those are parts of me that make up me.

Another part of me is me being attractive or what some may find physically attractive. I get that. That is part of me as well but I don’t want that to be all a woman finds attractive about me because it’s the most superficial and fleeting of one’s qualities.  I want the fact that the library is one of my favorite places to be as equally appealing and satiating as my appearance. Or better, that she finds my character to enhance my looks. Before I get too far along, this post isn’t a backwards way of self-aggrandizement. What’s at the heart of it is that I’m growing. Beauty is not enough for me. I’ve said that before in reference to women but this time I mean it in regards to me. No longer can I relegate myself to just coasting on being physically attractive. There’s more. I want the “Oh he reads” or the “Oh he’s really thoughtful” to be said with as much delight and conviction as the “Oh he’s cute”.

Though the pseudo-conversation from this week spurred me to write, it was actually a proxy for the many times it’s happened where I was content to just be found attractive. I do know now that I do like to be appreciated for what I have to offer by way of intellect. I think too, that my sensitivity about this subject stems from me trying to battle the stereotypes of Black men; two of which being that we’re hypersexualized and non-intelligent. Being aware of the many stereotypes, (some of which I fall prey to) I conscientiously navigate my interactions with women so as not to lean too heavily on my looks; because ultimately, I don’t want to be labeled as an ASN (Ain’t Sh*t N*gga).

This post is also to say that women finding me attractive in terms of me being “smart”, “intellectual”, or in some way interesting beyond my looks is still new to me. I do know how I feel when the opposite sex recognizes and appreciates those qualities and it’s a great feeling. And I also think they feel the same way when somehow upon our first meeting we find ourselves in fervent discussion about our latest reads as opposed to something superficial. Perhaps then introducing a “both and” concept would help to rectify my issue. I think being both physically attractive and ________ (insert quality) are not mutually exclusive. How they are reconciled may look different based on the person. How it looks for me is something I’m actively trying to figure out while yet hoping to be understood and perceived in a more balanced way.  

-WAC, III-

The Polished Scholars go to Harvard

Hello ladies and gentlemen. It's been quite awhile (much too long, truth be told) since our last post, but we're back. For this post, we decided to do something different. Check out our short video, in which we discuss our recent presentation at Harvard University's Graduate Student Research Conference - Changing Progress: The Science of Education Revolution. Entitled "The New Negro: Developing the Whole Self as a Mechanism for Success," our round-table discussion addressed the beginning stages of our newest research project surrounding Black male achievement in higher education. Enjoy!

"Nigga, please...(reconsider)!"

“And niggas say ‘nigga’ to a nigga, a nigga write ‘nigga’ in a lyric, expect a white boy to omit it

The white boy spit it like he spit it, recite it to his friends who, by the way, ain’t niggas…”

-Wale, “The Kramer”

Sometime about one year ago, I came to a realization and resolution: I was no longer a fan of the word nigga, and would therefore stop using it.

There are a plethora of arguments for why (Black) people should or should not use the word nigga, ranging from socio-historical context to more contemporary views of the word’s implications. As I’m sure you noticed, I placed “Black” in parenthesis in the previous sentence because that in and of itself is a common debate point; who has the authority/permission to say nigga? Some individuals believe anybody who is non-white can use it without consequence, but more often (in my experience) more seem to agree that Blacks and Latinos have clearance, absolute and situational respectively (possibly because of many Latinos also identifying as Black as a broader racial categorization), or any bi-racial person who “got some Black in ‘em” (i.e., at least one parent is Black). Now, you may be at best slightly puzzled by that last statement – do not be alarmed, you should be; it’s quite ambiguous. And that is indicative of one issue I have with the entire argument – it is way too open-ended and unclear (for one, where does Blackness begin and end?). As it stands right now, anyone who chooses to use the word nigga is at the mercy of the opinions of those around them at the time of usage; if those within earshot do not deem me “Black enough” (or, nigga enough) to use the word, there are potentially some serious negative repercussions for me. Considering that question was what actually caused my original pause in my own usage of nigga. I was, admittedly, an avid (dare I say enthusiastic?) user of the term. But when I made the transition from undergrad (at Hampton, a school full of…Black people) to Penn State (an overly-white institution, yet and still boasting a wider variety of ethnicities than Hampton), I began to hear other people using the word. Specifically, I heard many Latinos using nigga like it was nobody’s business, when in my opinion, there wasn’t an ounce of Blackness to them (physically, ethnically, or any other way). It seemed they were using their general status as a minority to grant them permission, which didn’t sit right with me. But I digress (slightly).

Before I continue with the specific reasons I decided to curb my utilization of nigga, I must address a particularly salient argument for the term: the suffix differentiation of -er versus -a. Almost everybody will agree that there is generally a considerable difference in connotation between nigger and nigga. The former is the original iteration of the latter, and is inextricably connected with slavery and racism; it was a word thrust upon us (Black people) as a mechanism of dehumanization. Many people now see the alternative nigga as a symbol of empowerment, a reclamation of what was initially meant to oppress. I do see the value in this; you take something that people are going to call you whether you like it or not, and embrace it in such a way that it can no longer hurt you. If embracing nigga was indeed meant to serve this purpose, then I have no problem with it. My concern is that as nigga currently stands, people using the word have strayed so far away from this original reclamation, this empowerment, that they’ve turned the word into something much cheaper and less meaningful. It has become so widespread and pervasive that people who aren’t even Black are using it, and do so ignorant of the historical implications.

So, what caused my “ah ha” moment? A few things. The first I mentioned already: people I perceive as non-Black (and some I know are non-Black) were/are using the word. The second thing is that as I considered my own usage (and that of others around me), I realized that I (and they) were using nigga to describe people who are not Black. (Example: “Yo, have you heard that new Justin Timberlake song? That nigga went off.”) If you are an ardent user of nigga, you have done this before. For me, this didn’t make any sense. Even if I accept the best of arguments for the validation of nigga, why am I using it to describe individuals who are not Black? That seems somewhat contradictory.

The last straw for me was a combination and application of the last two points. If I was using nigga so universally, ascribing people who weren’t even niggas themselves that moniker, and simultaneously giving passive consent to non-Black individuals’ usage of nigga (e.g., not saying, “Hey, you ain’t a nigga, so stop saying nigga.”), how then could I expect that non-Blacks would not say the word? Yes, some vernacular is assigned to a specific group, and if you are not a member you implicitly understand that you should not use said argot – but that is a somewhat unrealistic expectation, in my book. As read in the quote at the beginning of this post, I really like the idea Wale put forth in his song “The Kramer” (although he used it as an argument for continued utilization of the word). Nigga has become so pervasive, so widely-used in social media, that it seems foolish to expect that people would not repeat those things they hear so often, particularly through such medium as music. When singing your favorite song, you typically say all the words through pure rote memory. Sure, if you have an edited version of a record, you might become accustomed to omitting certain words because you always hear the song with blanks already there – but how many people really buy the edited versions of music (excluding 12 year olds whose musical collection is monitored by mom and dad)? If you have the explicit version, you’ll typically repeat those word-for-word. Even if you are conscious enough to omit certain words when you sing, you are saying those words silently in your head as you omit them aloud. At some point, the suppressed text is bound to take flight off your tongue. To me, it is foolish to believe or expect that non-Blacks aren’t using the word nigga, even if the only time they do is when singing a particular song. And that perceivably small instance is more than enough for me to be upset.

I live in the world of reality (at least I try to on a daily basis). Idealism has its place, but not at the expense of me being naïve. In saying that, I am most certainly not naïve enough to believe that everyone will all of a sudden stop saying nigga, or that a ‘No More Nigga’ movement will ensue. I just think that people should be more aware of what they say, and the implications of those words. Don’t run around saying “nigga nigga nigga” all the time and expect that people who are non-Black will never say it themselves.

I must end by admitting that I am not completely free of my usage of nigga; I said I came to the conclusion about a year ago that I was going to stop using the word, but I didn’t say I succeeded. I have reduced my output by about 96% (conservatively), but every now and again a nigga will slip out. Even as I continue to monitor my usage, I am ok with this occasional utterance. As my fellow polished scholar often says (to which I co-sign), I may be well put together, intelligent, and an overall nice guy, “…but I’m still a real nigga*. Don’t get it twisted.”

-JMC-

*Note: By “real nigga,” I mean an individual who is very much in touch with his African American roots, community, and identity, and, while often very agreeable and pleasant, is not so passive as to allow anyone to run all over him. I am confident that (although they would likely not use this exact language) my parents, both highly intelligent, upwardly mobile people, are individuals who would assert this opinion as well.

Post Script: Definitely check out this song by Wale. It has a lot of underlying messages concerning the use of the word nigga. It is unedited and contains strong language, so please keep that in mind if you decide to play it.

Summounded to the court

Talking with a friend yesterday really put some things into perspective for me. He and I often revisit the subject of past loves and ex girl-friends. This conversation started off in a familiar tone and seemed to run the route of our normal conversations concerning the matter. We dialogued about getting back with our exes and if so, what that would look like. We discussed being aware of cues, hints, and other signs that denoted a level of interest on their part. The question of ‘had we missed the cues’ was centric to our discussion. Did we not pick up on the bread crumbs? Did our pride somehow get in the way? We talked about many possibilities but were oblivious to an obvious error. However, in medias res of the conversation, my dude said something that just sunk in me. Using the analogy of sports, we began to unpack the idea of needing just one alley-oop, one wink, one sign, one no look pass, and we'd take the ball and slam dunk it. That’s right. Take the ball and dunk it. How zealous, right? A swift move to the basket without even thinking twice about whether we were supposed to be on the 'court' or not. That frame of thought always overlooks an underlying entitlement attitude which never considers whether or not I have a right to be on the court.

So begs the question: Why am I expecting someone to 'throw me the ball' if I'm not even in their 'game'?

Aside: I use the word game to reference a sphere of activity where two people in a relationship are engaged in the dynamics of said relationship. In the context of this post, we can examine and relate certain concepts in this frame.  

He said instead of waiting for the alley-oop of a "So let's have a conversation..." or the no look pass of a "I miss you let's talk...", he won't be on the court, or even the bench for that matter. He'll be outside until he's summoned. I think he's right. Very right. I often reserve spaces for myself on people's teams, lives, etc. without them even knowing. Thereby bringing with me my expectations of what I think should be happening and how I think I should be treated when I'm not even on the team in the first place.

My boy's statement sunk in me because every guy wants to think that he's the star just waiting on the chance to vindicate his fall from grace on the courts of life. To make right the wrongs of the past that he laments over and labors to rectify. To do those things that he said and thought he'd do if he 'had one more chance'. But more often than not, it doesn't work that way. Our ego and pride presupposes fact and warps reality. Sometimes our zeal for what we want overshadows reason and what is. It is with humility that we must accept any summons or invitation to join the team. And if she wants you back, it's not a matter of being on the court waiting or expecting, but rather it's about being sure. Being sure that if she wants you, she'll make it known; she'll call.

This all goes back to lessons my mom and dad taught me. Dad has always maintained that a gentleman never imposes. Mom always said to never invite yourself.

Reflecting on the conversation, I'm further convinced that entitlement breeds misplaced or at worse, unrealistic expectations. My friend’s statement cut me because it was a knife to my ego. It was precise and cut at the issue of living in between spaces. I realize that it does take a certain depth of character to remain outside when you know how great of a team it is that you want to be on. It is by no means easy because you have to respect her and above all else you have to be humble enough to know that as it stands, you're not her star player. It doesn't mean that you're any less talented, just not the star on that team.

-WAC, III-

"Et tu, Brute?" A Retrospective on the Unimaginable Defense of Black Schools

When I made the choice to attend a historically Black school for college, I always knew I'd have to defend my choice...but not to other Blacks.

Since I made that decision – arguably the best decision I ever made in my life – I've been on a constant battlefield, defending my choice. I've faced disbelief, bigotry, ignorance, elitism. I've been looked down upon, questioned, smirked at, ignored, discounted. Interestingly (sadly, painfully) enough, the majority of the time, these things have come from my own people. Black people. Nine of out ten times, if I'm having a discussion with someone about my choice in school, and they are questioning, invalidating, or otherwise demeaning my experience, it is not a white person (or Other) doing the talking. Possibly Black people feel more comfortable giving their "honest" (read: negative) opinions to me, a fellow Black person, than someone who is not Black would feel. But even still, it is disheartening to know that so many of the derogatory comments and dismissive thoughts come from those with whom I identify the most.

I have heard some of the most absurd things from Black people about my choice in schooling. "Going to a Black school will prevent you from being able to cope in the real world; the real world isn't all Black." (The "real world" isn't all white either, which many schools effectively are, and colleges are microcosms of society, protected bubbles which harbor students from the "real world" for 4 years anyway.) "I grew up around all Black people, so why would I want to go to school with all Black folks?" (Because #1, all Black people are the same and #2, all of the people you grew up with went to college. Think on that.) "You're a sellout." (What? Why am I even listening to your ign'ant a$@?) And my personal favorite: "The education you get at a Black school is inferior to that at white schools." (Because all white schools are Harvard. Even West Bloomdale County State University, Springfield Campus, whose average combined SAT score is 550 and hasn't had full accreditation since 1972. No wait, it's because money is the sole indicator of institutional effectiveness. Oh, my fault, the REAL reason is because with all those Negroes being in the same place, there's no way educational standards can be high enough to compete. That's it.) These are all real comments I've heard from people, MANY times over. And the overwhelming majority of the time, they were Black.

Most recently I heard it said that Black people at HBCUs believe that Black students at PWIs aren't Black enough, that they don't fully understand what it means to be Black because they attended a white school. Are there people who feel this way? Undoubtedly. Are there a lot of people, or is there enough of a critical mass for it to matter? Emphatically, no. I cannot believe that this is true because it is so far from the experience I know, the people I know (and quite frankly, we of the HBCU brand spend so much time defending our experiences that we don't have time to dismiss another's!). I definitely know that there are stereotypes and perceptions that each group has about the other (PWI and HBCU students). But I also believe that destroying these stereotypes is largely the responsibility of students at PWIs. Why? Because PWIs often have environments which are unwelcoming in many respects for Black students (in general, let alone for Black students who don’t even attend that school). Are these environments created by the Black students at the schools? No. But these students are a part of the environment, whether they like it or not, and are therefore part of the perpetuation of it by association. It’s a hard fact to understand, let alone assume, but true nonetheless. And as a result, there is a potential transference of perceived belief that occurs, where you (the PWI Black student) are now seen as condescending or demeaning or unwelcoming. Now think about the students on both sides who want to bridge the gap, or have a strong desire to interact with their fellow Black students on the other campus. What happens to these two groups is likely very different. Black students at PWI want to kick it at the local HBCU. They go over to campus and walk around. They blend in (insomuch as their skin color and general appearance is Black). They are welcomed, or at worst left alone, seen by others as students who go to the school but “maybe I don’t know them yet.” Now take the Black student at an HBCU, who wants to kick it at the local PWI. They go over to campus and walk around. By the way, the campus is approximately 6% Black, so merely by stepping onto the campus, these random students have now gained the school an extra percentage point. They are looked at as anomalies. They are stopped by the campus police to ask if they would furnish their student IDs, “because that’s standard practice.” Or they see a flier for the “Tennis Pros & Rap Hoes” party that Delta Lambda is throwing that weekend. You tell me, which group of Black students are going to have the easiest time reaching out to the other? Now, of course I recognize that my example was very generalized, and there are multiple other factors that would play into any given situation, such as school size and location, the individual personalities of the students, etc. But even still, I think the point is easy to see and accept.

What angers me the most about having to defend my choice in schools is that almost without fail (and I say "almost" as a kindness; I would be much more comfortable omitting that word completely), the Black people who have said these things HAVE NEVER ATTENDED A BLACK SCHOOL. EVER. Not even for a semester. Not even a week-long study abroad at Tuskegee or Fisk. Add to this the fact that if someone attended an HBCU for undergrad, and then pursued an advanced degree, he or she more than likely next attended a predominantly white institution. Conversely, someone who went to a PWI for undergrad and then sought a graduate degree is highly unlikely to choose a Black school. (Admittedly, I have no data to back this up...but I'd stake near any amount of money that this is true.) The result: these Black people who are so adamantly against Black school educations likely have no real, first-hand experience with the schools they so easily dismiss. They base their opinion (which they see as fact) on things they read, or the handful of people they know who attended a Black school, or the 4 days, 6 hours, and 32 minutes total they’ve spent on an HBCU campus. And this is the epitome of ignorance. True, we all do it to some extent (believe something false about others based on limited knowledge); but this hurts so much more when it comes from your own people.

When are we going to learn, as Black people, that there are so many things already working to divide us, that we cannot create division among ourselves? When will we refuse to subscribe to these Willie Lynch-esque ideologies (who, according to much scholarship, wasn't even a real person)? These crab-in-a-bucket mentalities continue to hold us back as a people, and it kills me a little each day. But I digress. Let me refocus on the more narrow idea I’ve addressed in this post. I’m tired. I’m tired of having to constantly defend my educational choice, to a people who should be the first to accept and praise my decision. More than anything, though, I’m hurt. Sad. I expect more from my own kind. One of the greatest lessons I learned at my undergraduate institution, my alma mater and Home by the Sea, Hampton University, was that there is a richness and a fullness to Blackness of which I was previously unaware. This understanding, which many of my peers at HBCUs across the nation share, leads me to accept Black people everywhere, from all different manner of backgrounds and experiences, as Black, part of the multifaceted whole that is Blackness. So when I hear my fellow Black people dismissing or diminishing my experience at a Black school, my heart drops and I want to scream, “Wake up!!” You don’t have to have gone to a Black school. They aren’t for everyone, there are countless great institutions around the country that you can attend, and have a fulfilling educational experience, both Black and white (and otherwise). But don’t…DON’T…discount my choice.

-JMC-