"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-

A Question of Preference

Of late, I have often found myself discussing the idea of dating outside of one’s race. Certainly this is an idea that deserves attention in present times. If you look around, whether on the streets around you or in the media, you can see that it is an increasing phenomenon to see mixed-race couples. There are a plethora of reasons for this, none of them any less valid than another. The world is shrinking, mostly due to social media and the ability to connect with anyone at any place around the world via the internet. Minority populations in the U.S. are steadily becoming the majority, and there is an ever-growing international presence within our borders as well. While there are irrefutably still very segregated places throughout America, there are many cities and neighborhoods where there is a good mixture of people from different backgrounds and cultures; as a result, some of the children from these areas are growing up with diversity and difference being the norm. It follows that as they grow older, they may not view dating outside of their race as out of the ordinary. Whatever the real reason (or reasons), more and more mixed-race couples are popping up, and as a result more and more people are considering this as an option.

As I contemplate this idea myself, I find myself in an interesting position, one riddled with internal conflict, particularly in light of my choice of job in multicultural affairs. I believe that people should be free to date whomever they choose, and be free to do so without persecution. But even within this belief, I know that I have levels and limits, particularly for myself. As a person of color, in particular a Black man, I believe I would be ok dating outside of my race…as long as it was another person of color. I cannot see myself dating a white woman – even to the point of saying that will not date a white woman. I classify (or justify?) it as a preference, based largely on mutual interest, understanding, and experiences – and I can’t ignore the phenotypical aspects as well. I’ll explain both. To the first point (mutual interest, understanding, and experiences): another person of color is much more likely to understand my experiences as a Black man, and have congruent ideas and interests because of this understanding. A white woman is far less likely to align with me along these issues, as her status in American society affords her the opportunity to not have to deal with the same struggles as a person of color. It is important to note that racial/ethnic identity is not an absolute indicator that a person will understand or even sympathize with the experience of minorities in America – but it does significantly increase that individual’s chances. If I had to choose between a socially-conscious white woman and a Black woman who in essence didn’t know she was Black or tried to separate herself as much as possible with her Blackness, I’d pick the white girl. To the second point (phenotype): depending on what ethnicity you’re talking about, women of color are much more likely to have the physical attributes I find attractive: curves, melanin-rich skin, curly hair, etc. Again, being a person of color is no guarantee that you will have these things, but the likelihood is most definitely increased.

As I have explored my ideas about the aforementioned, both through conversation with others and as an internal process, I have seen weakness in pieces of my philosophy. The greatest problem I see is of continuity: if I say I believe people should be able to date whomever they wish, but limit myself in my dating choices, do I truly believe what I say? Is it possible to believe one thing for others but not for yourself? In some ways I think this contradiction could be perceived as hypocritical, and maybe it is. I’m not entirely sure, but it is high on my list of things to contemplate and sort out.

While reading these thoughts about my dating preferences, many people will undoubtedly have seen another potential weakness inherent in my thinking. When it comes to racial preferences via classification, where do you draw the line? By that I mean where does one race end and another begin? It’s all very convoluted. For instance, when I say “white women,” I am thinking more specifically about Americans. But what about Europeans, for example? Certainly many (if not all) of them are considered white, but is there not a difference between the people in Italy and an Ireland? Spain and Germany? You can come much closer to home and ask these same questions. What about some Latinos, from the Dominican Republic or Puerto Rico, or other places? Some are blond-haired and blue-eyed, thus outwardly would appearing “white” (and arguably are white, as white is a racial indicator and not an ethnic identity, but that’s another conversation). I once dated a beautiful Israeli woman – in my mind, she was a person of color, but for all intents and purposes when she was walking down the street most people would look at her and think “white.” It gets so convoluted that it makes my head spin, and arguments for what is or isn’t go in and out of the window. What it ends up boiling down to is a question of what makes a person a “person of color.” Skin color? Experiences? Or both? I’ve already addressed this in part – I know that simply being a certain color does not guarantee that one will have certain beliefs or experiences…but it can and does increase the likelihood for this being the case.

Another issue I have with my own thoughts is a question of whether or not my thinking is right. Should I think these things at all? By having “preferences” am I really just practicing discrimination? How would I feel if a white person said the same things I am saying, but in reverse? White man: “I think people should date who they want, but I won’t date a Black woman because she probably won’t have the same experiences as me or understand me as well as another white woman could.” It makes me both laugh and cringe, and I’m not sure whether or not I think it’s inherently wrong, although initially I think it’s not (but is this me unconsciously wishing to validate my own thoughts?). As someone concerned with social justice and equality, I know that we as a society need to move further towards acceptance and appreciation of difference; we are far too segregated now. But I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary to date outside of your race to achieve this goal, though I’m sure some would argue that it is (though I recognize that it certainly helps). Engrained within my desire to date within-race or, if not within, at least a person of color, is a deep-seated reason which I cannot seem to shake. As mentioned, all of the things I love are wrapped up in women of color – the look, the experiences, and the understanding. But outside of that, I willingly admit that I feel social pressure to date a Black woman, both from external and internal sources. Externally, it is no secret that most Black people shun those who date outside of the race, particularly those who date white people (and given the racial history of this country, it’s not hard to understand why). Internally, I believe I have a certain obligation to marry a Black woman. As I work in higher education, I know the statistics regarding Black men and level of education, which more often than not translates to level of success attained in life. As a Black woman moves up the educational and social ladder, she finds fewer and fewer Black men on the same level. At the risk of sounding arrogant or at the least overly-confident and self-centered, I know what I represent. I’m one of the few Black men (sadly) who is high-achieving, highly-educated, and successful. If I were to date outside of my race, I would be removing myself from an already insufficiently-filled pool for educated Black women who want to date Black men. To me, to date a white woman in particular, equates to a slap in the face of Black women, me saying, “I know that there are much less of us than you, but oh well, I’ll make it one less.” Is this way of thinking right or wrong? I am not sure.

As I get older and wiser, and think more critically about my beliefs, I see them adapting and changing. To this argument, this question of interracial dating: I know I should be open to it, and I am open to it…on some levels. At this point in my life, I try not to stand in the way of my own blessings, which is to say I try not to dictate as much what I think my life should or should not be, but step out of the way to let God bless me as He sees fit. So in that sense, I allow for the possibility that I could meet and fall in love with someone who is altogether different from whom I believe my ideal or desired woman to be now – she could be Black, Latina, Asian…or white. I pray that God continues to keep me open to things that are best for me and are according to His plan for my life. BUT…I have made it exceedingly clear to God that if He chooses for me a white woman, knowing full and well how much I love Black women and women of color, me and Him are going to have some words. WORDS, I tell you. Of course I’m joking…(no I’m not).

-JMC-

Readiness

read·i·ness / ˈredēnis / Noun

1. Willingness to do something

2. The state of being fully prepared for something

Lately I’ve been thinking about the idea of readiness. As you can see in the definition above, this encompasses being willing and prepared for something – in the case of my recent thoughts, that something is lifelong commitment to another individual, in terms of a romantic relationship. We often use this word – readiness – in one of its forms when classifying our state of mind about relationships. “I’m just not ready to be in a committed relationship.” I myself have used this logic on many occasions in the past, whether as an indication of my true beliefs about myself at the time, or (sadly) as a loose justification for extracting myself from some no-longer-desired situation.

As I’ve pondered the idea of readiness, I noticed a slow shift in my thinking. Historically, I’ve always used this noun to describe an internal process which was largely outside of my locus of control. In other words, there was something inside of me which prevented me (developmentally) from being ready for a serious, committed relationship, but I had no real way of changing or affecting that – I simply had to wait until I became ready. Certainly there is some truth to that. When I was younger I lacked maturity in many areas, and arguably only time and experience could remedy that. But increasingly I see this elusive “ready” as something much more within my sphere of direct influence – I am beginning to believe that I control whether I am ready or not. To tie it back into the definition, I much more strongly believe now that the first definition is the most important when speaking to relationships: willingness to do something. Will is entirely internal and controllable (except in extreme cases, like mental instability). You decide whether or not you have the will to do anything. And following that line of thinking, you decide when you are ready to be in a serious, committed relationship.

Do not mistake me: there is most definitely validity to the idea that even if one is willing, he or she lacks something that enables them to be fully prepared. You may be willing to run a marathon, but if you have not made the necessary preparations (training, buying the shoes, finding and entering the race, etc.), you will find yourself unready. For a more poignant example, consider this: you may be willing to drive a car – but if you have not turned the legal age, learned how to drive, and passed the driver’s exam, you will not only be unprepared (unready), you may drive that car to the detriment of yourself and others. In the same way, you may be willing to be in a serious relationship…but you may not be ready developmentally. You may not have a firm grasp of who you really are, you may have unresolved issues with family or friends, you may be far too selfish – any number of internal things on which you need to work prior to attempting to develop an external relationship with someone else (and as with the example about the car, if you enter into a serious relationship, you may do this to the detriment of yourself of the other person). I do believe that you can be willing, but truly not ready. But I also believe that far too often we shift cause and blame callously and immaturely out of our personal spheres of influence, placing the onus on any and everything but ourselves.

I propose that you are the only one who can truly decide when you are ready. As I have said more and more often of late to my good friend, we decide when are ready; there is no magical point in the distant future where we will suddenly wake up and be ready. For me now, being ready is a state of mind, it is that willingness. Cast aside your immediate reactions – of fear and apprehension, or rejection – and really think about what this would mean, if you accepted that you decided when you were ready. How powerful does that make you? You’ve just snatched back untold influence over your own life, your own actions. You are no longer helpless and dependent, waiting for some abstract moment that always seems just outside of your reach. You have the control, and can take yourself wherever you see fit. Imagine that. I am also a huge proponent of transferability – this idea of readiness has applicability in much more than just romantic relationships. Schools. Jobs. Relocations. Any significant change you have been debating, but that you’ve been putting off until the time was right, until you were ready. I postulate that if you are willing to open your thinking up, to shift your ideas of readiness so that it focuses on you and puts control into your hands instead of on some external time that may never come, you will find that your entire approach to life changes significantly. You may find that you are ready – you may find that you are not – but whichever you choose, you will be that much more at peace with the choice, because you know that you decided your own fate.

-JMC-

The Path of Most Resistance

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

 During a conversation at lunch today with my mother, an educated and spiritual woman, I found myself engaged in what has become a regular topic of discussion between her and me – my future. I was bringing her up to speed on where I thought my life was taking me, career-wise. After I informed her of the latest of my intentions for the next few years, I recounted a recurring vision I’d been having regarding what I thought I should be doing. For a few months now I’ve felt as though I was standing at a point of decision – facing two roads which lead off in two different directions. One road leads to a good life: success by anyone’s standards, happiness and prosperity, doing meaningful work, but just that – good. The other road leads into something a bit mistier, much less clear or defined – but within the shadows I see glimpses of greatness untold, a life where I not only have the desires of my heart, but also get a chance daily to affect real change in the world, and have a positive impact on countless lives. One road is full of relative ease and comfort, and is predictably simple; the other is riddled with hard work and uncertainty, but the possibilities are endless.

Being the individual that I am, I of course needed no pause whatsoever to determine which way I would choose. I have never been one to accept mediocrity; it’s excellence or nothing for me. But it has given me time to consider the ramifications of the decisions we make, and the faith we must exercise when choosing. Often the best decisions we can make in life are those which cause us the most pause, where the outcome is least defined. We must believe in ourselves at all costs, and in the Higher Power we recognize in our lives. As my mother the minister put it: God is never the author of the most comfortable and easiest path. We are meant to struggle, to put forth effort, in order that we might reap the true benefits of our work. And as evidenced by this Robert Frost poem, often that means taking the past of most resistance, the road less traveled. For it along this path we see who we truly are, what we are truly made of – and in the end, what we can truly become.

-JMC-