"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.

"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-

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-

What kind of man would I be?

Turning 27 nearly two weeks ago afforded me yet another opportunity to reflect. This time around I thought about what it means to be a young (I use that word loosely) black man at 27. Moreover, I thought about the 'how' and the 'what' of me coming into a most critical time in my life and engaged them from an analytical view of what it means to be black man at 27.

Flooded with thoughts prompted from conversations with friends and the experiences of my life, the following is a list of sorts involving choices, thoughts, and pivotal points of direction that could have led me one way or another. In no particular order of significance I share these so as to draw careful consideration on where you were at this time in your life if you so happen to identify with any of the sentiments below.

So read, reflect, think, and discuss.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't admit when I'm wrong? But beyond admitting fault, seek to make it right. Beyond restitution, learn to seek forgiveness and simultaneously learning to forgive.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't learn to maintain and seek integrity in every situation? Even at the cost of public approval and the lauds of the fickle, remain steadfast in what is right and what I hold to be true.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't know my limitations? Boundaries promote a concentration of sorts but more so understanding that I am not called to be like the next man nor am I to even covet after his innate capabilities.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't have goals and set a vision for my life? In doing so with guidance from the Almighty, the trajectory for my life is set. Therefore I plan my work and work my plan.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't acknowledge my emotions? But beyond acknowledgement there is reconciliation, and where there is reconciliation there is application which therefore gives causation for the mastery of the emotional components of my life.

What kind of man would I be if I gave in to every whim of temptation? Temptation is nothing more than an appealing to the senses to do wrong in spite of what we know to be right.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't treat my mother as the queen that she is and support the needs of my family? In doing so I learn first hand how to treat women right and to develop unadulterated loyalty and the support necessary to raise a family.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't seek to make wise decisions?

What kind of man would I be if I didn't pray?

What kind of man would I be if I didn't have good friends? People who know me well enough to think my thoughts after me. Who push me to success and call me to my greatest good.

What kind of man would I be if I weren't educated? A good friend of mine says that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Who would I be and where would I be if I didn't read and engage in meaningful discussion? What kind of man would I be if I didn't actively learn to shun ignorance?  If I didn't challenge myself intellectually to be better tomorrow than I am today.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't make myself accessible?

What kind of man would I be if I didn't love? Love not on a superficial level similar to lust but on a deep level whose rewards are immense but also valuable enough to be shared.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't take care of myself? Where would I be if I didn't have a commitment to health, living well, and maintaining a certain quality of life?

What kind of man would I be if I didn't learn to be by myself ? In learning to be by myself I develop a healthy sense of love myself for myself and come into greater understanding of myself. It's here where I learn to laugh at myself, to not take myself so seriously but always looking at myself as a continual work in progress moving from to good to greater.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't strive to be single minded in matters? If I didn't learn to observe and consider all viewpoints but commit myself to make sound decisions.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't learn to take my time? To value quality over frequency. To invest in the long term and prepare myself to work to generate the greatest outcome.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't understand that 'No' is sometimes an even greater answer than yes? To be comfortable with saying no but wise and most of all graceful in its application.

What kind of man would I be if I weren't sensitive to the needs of others? Learning when to put the needs, wants, aspirations, and desires of others before my own.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't learn to listen more than I speak? But when asked, be available to give an answer worth listening to.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't learn to step away? Not in defeat but in knowing that healing for myself is more important than a victory won with many detrimental scars. More importantly knowing when not to win at the wrong battles.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't know that humility and grace go hand in hand? That I should be readily able to dispense both in voluminous amounts and to receive in a manner likewise. What kind of man would I be if I didn't seek to set aside pride, ego, and pretension?

These are a few things that I've thought amount most recently. This piece is subject to change as I continue to grow.I'll probably revisit this subject matter again, however in the mean time as you grow and develop I implore you to think about who you are becoming.

Let us not come into who we are without pondering carefully the makings that give meaning to our lives.

-WAC, III-

A Made Up Mind

Liberate yourself from the tyranny of double mindedness.

-WAC, III-

Self-Help

“Know thyself.”

I’ve always been a very introspective person. I’ve spent countless hours evaluating my life, from the macro to the micro, using broad strokes to assess patterns and a scalpel to investigate even the smallest layers of what others might deem insignificant events. I thoroughly enjoy breaking down my thoughts and reasons, my perceptions, things that happen to me and things I elect into. Of course there have been many times where, after much deliberation, I realized I was borderline obsessing or making something much more than it needed to be – but the vast majority of the time, this process I find myself engaged in leads to positive gains for me. I improve myself. I understand myself a little deeper. And I set myself up to be able to make better choices in the future.

I am definitely a self-help kind of guy. I’ve always loved taking personality tests, and I’ve probably taken as many on the web as exist, from the more jovial “What Kind of Dog Are You?” and “What’s Your First-Date Style?” to the more serious and reputable Myers Briggs Type Indicator and other similar assessments. I’ve taken work style assessments, conflict style assessments, and countless others. I also love books that help your understand yourself better so that you can understand others better, and therefore have more positive relationships. Some of my favorites are Personality Plus (Florence Littauer), The 5 Love Languages (Gary Chapman), and The 5 Languages of Apology (Gary Chapman). All 3 are very easy reads, and easy to absorb. They all start with the same premise – understanding yourself first, which, again, is key for me. One of the best things about all of them is that you don’t have to be in a relationship to utilize their principles. Most people I think associate these things with romantic relationships, particularly the books about love languages. But “love” is really a function of any relationship. Understanding these principles will help you with ALL of your relationships, platonic, familial, or otherwise. I try to use some of the things I learned with any relationship I have, particularly if I truly care about the person in some way, and appreciate the relationship we have. But again, it all starts internally, with me exploring myself.

I think everyone should adopt the mentality of self-help. Learn yourself! Take the time to try and better yourself. Lately, I’ve adopted the belief that everyone should be engaged in trying to address at least one major flaw in themselves at all times (and until you become practiced at doing this, you will likely be able to only concentrate effectively on one thing at a time). In order to do this, however, you need to know what your flaws are, and that takes serious consideration. The truly reflective person will take a combination of what they deduce from their own intrinsic observations and what other people tell them about themselves – friends AND enemies. Both are useful. This does not mean that you should always fully accept what others say about you as truth – but it does mean that you shouldn’t immediately dismiss it. A good barometer is often this: if more than one person says the same thing, it’s probably true, if not in fact than at least in perception. Since perception is reality, I tend to put a lot of stock in it. This is often where most of us get stuck – we don’t like to hear bad things about ourselves, let alone admit that they are true! But this is a key phase, and you need to be strong enough of character to admit that you have a flaw. After you establish a flaw (or an area where you need some improvement, if that sounds better to you), get to work on it! Investigate ways in which you can better yourself in this area, then put them into practice. As with anything change, you need to realize that you will not turn it around in a day (or even a month, necessarily) – be OK with this. Anything worthwhile takes time, and effort. As you actively work on this, give yourself credit for small accomplishments, it will help you continue. Keep your checking mostly internal – that is to say, keep track of your own progress by yourself, with yourself. You can ask friends how you are doing occasionally, but if you do a couple things can happen: 1) they may expect more speedy change than you are capable of; and 2) they may tire of you asking them if you’re “better” than you were before every time you think you’ve done something a bit differently than you “used to.”

What are you working on? For me, current projects include my natural tendency to argue (read “debate,” not the more common negative association of the word), whether that manifests itself as me trying to convince the other person that I’m right and he/she is wrong, or that I always need to say “something” back, as opposed to simply accepting what the other person has to say (whether I agree or not). It’s important to remember that not everything you want to better about yourself has to be in relation to other people – you can seek to improve something solely for your own benefit. I am quite an indecisive person. I’m working on trying to be more decisive, something that typically doesn’t affect other people, but is beneficial for me.

The intelligent, well-rounded, mature person is always seeking ways to better him- or herself. Once you’ve begun on this road, you will see that by improving yourself, you automatically improve everything and everyone around you.

-JMC-

Things Come Together: A Word of Appreciation

One of the greatest pleasures I have ever experienced is the ability to occasionally sit back and reflect on how so many things in my life have lined up just right, and come together beautifully. It is in these moments that I am most keenly aware of the hand of God in my life, and in these moments I can do nothing but raise my arms in praise and thanksgiving. Some of the things in my life have lined up so perfectly it could not possibly have been accidental. It’s like one of those intricate domino structures, where each domino has to be set up precisely so it knocks over the next in line, or the entire thing won’t work. The Divine hand in my life has set up these dominoes, and put them in places and times so obscure I never saw their order, until I stumbled (directed) into the next piece, and the next set fell over, revealing another portion of the elaborate and beautiful portrait that will be my life.

There are so many instances of this it would take pages to name them all, so I will only describe a few. God saw fit for me to go to Hampton University, so He made that happen. Hampton wasn’t even on my radar until a friend in high school told me they were the only Black school with a sailing team, which I thought was amazing. I applied to about 11 schools, and got into all, with full-ride scholarships to 9 (which would later become a significant number in my life, in more ways than one). Originally, I didn’t even have the full ride to Hampton; when I visited, they said my SAT scores were only sufficient to get me a partial scholarship. I was crushed, and almost walked away in defeat. But God had a plan. In a matter of seconds, the admissions counselor took a second look at my application, and noticed that my ACT scores were high enough to qualify me for the highest scholarship Hampton provided, and she offered it to me on the spot. Domino.

While at Hampton, I decided that I wanted to pledge Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc. Excluding a couple of my father’s siblings on the West Coast, the majority of my family who is Greek, including my mother, are Blue and White. Furthermore, the year I wanted to pledge the chapter of Kappas on campus was suspended, as stated for a period of no less than 5 years. There was no way I would become a Kappa while at Hampton. But God had a plan. My senior year, the moratorium was lifted, and the Kappas were able to have intake – I was blessed to be one of those few who was not only chosen, but, humbly, highly sought-after. Domino.

During this process, I was looking at graduate schools. I had applied to 9 schools. One day randomly, I got a call from an administrator about a visiting professor who was doing some research on high-achieving Black males, and wanted to interview me. Through the interview, it came out that I was pledging Kappa at the time – the professor was a Kappa himself. It also came out that I was interested in higher education – he worked as a professor in a higher ed program – but that I had not applied to his institution, The Pennsylvania State University. He immediately got on the phone with his colleague (in the midst of the interview), and set up several interviews for me during their interview weekend, to which only select individuals were even invited. The result was that prior to ever actually submitting an application for the program, I was extended an offer as one of 9 new cohort members in the #1 program for student affairs in the nation. Domino.

When I finally crossed as a member of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc., I was number 9 on the line. There were many good men on my line, most of which I had been friends with for years. But one particular line brother of mine, the number 4, would become one of my best friends as we continued our journeys outside the walls of Hampton University. As we continued to grow in the Bond together, we found out that our lives were, in many ways, maps of such concurrent properties that one could lay his over the top of the other’s and, without much deviation, trace a line through. Into Hampton, through the Student Leadership Program, Delta Pageants, the crown of Mr. Hampton and Kappa, and now the line has been rejoined once again through the Master’s degree program at Penn State. Our visions have lined up so much that we see many of the same goals, our ideologies so in tune that although we write as two separate authors on this blog, many confuse us for one voice. The Polished Scholars. If that isn’t a Divine hand laying out the dominoes perfectly, I don’t know what is. I would also be remiss if I did not say publically that I thank God for having the foresight and wisdom to send me a brother, in many senses of the word, with whom I could align myself on this journey through manhood and success. Always a receptive ear, a thoughtful ponderance, and an encouraging word. I see myself in him, and the reaffirmation that there are forward-thinking, reflective and good brothers out there – we DO exist. I am excited to see what God has in store for him, and to see what God will achieve through us, as we confront and revolutionize the way we deal with our future wives, children, and anyone else God sees fit to place in our paths.

Truly I believe the scripture – Psalms 37:23: “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way.” My steps are ordered, even when I can’t see them. One look back over my life at all that was not supposed to happen, but did, proves this to me. And I can only continue to offer thanksgiving to the One who orders my steps, and walk forward boldly and with excited anticipation, seeing where next my steps will lead.

-JMC-

Swagger in the academy

I remember when I really started latching onto the idea that being smart is cool. The more I bit into this concept, the greater the search for an adjective to describe how awesome I found this idea to be. It happened sometime between my sophomore and junior year at Hampton University. Somehow, some way my intellectual faculties were jarred awake and heightened. They had lain dormant in a passive state and at most times were an external reference only to be accessed on very rare occasions. In high school I never saw myself as an intellectual and thought my contributions to classroom discussion were not to of value. In retrospect I wished that I could have been or made myself smarter. More intellectual. More challenging. More out spoken and less accommodating. Not that I may outdo or prove anything to anyone but for myself.  It didn't help that my predominantly white high school presented me with a narrow, nil, and at most times absent figure of what a black intellectual looked like.


In reflection I think it would have been impossible for me to blossom there because at that time I perceived the environment to not be intellectually nurturing nor calling forth my greatest good as a student. Probably because I found myself in defense and survival mode as I tersed the landscape.

So fast forward to HIU. There I was; right in the middle history, heritage, pride, tradition, and scholarship. Suffice it to say that Hampton was my dream school and lived up to the menagerie of embedded images in my mind posited by School Daze and A Different World. Little did i know that this impression would have profound implications for future academic success.

Being a first generation student, college was very new to me. I drunk in every experience presented as a nursing babe desperate for a bottle. There came a point when those nutrients transformed into intellectual capital/muscle and I found myself articulate and was able to see myself outside of myself waxing strong in logic, reason, deduction, and scholarship. I found myself being immersed in conversation able to retort and sift through sensation to find substance which produced a confidence not attainted before. I was most amused with the command of vocabulary that I was acquiring and my inclination to dispense it at will. I mostly saw this occurrence happening in either the classroom and in my peer interaction. It was healthy for me that this experience was coated in black for it enabled me to have a deep appreciation for academics because no longer was the concept of a black intellectual foreign, it was internalized.

I write this post so as not to attract attention to myself or so that people can laude me. It is far from that. I invite you to this narrative intending to call attention to an experience that I believe should be happening in the academy, home, and in daily life. Being a graduate student has made me to think how I might be better able to encourage, cultivate, and impart this skill to others. More personally I thought about my younger sister and how growing up I wished I had expressed more often that it’s ok to be smart and intellectual. Heck it even looks good on you. But then I jumped back to the time in my memory when being smart wasn't so cool. When using words such as 'deft' and 'adept' would garner strange looks of bewilderment. And I thought. I thought.

Who was the person who made it 'uncool' to be smart?

Why is the problem pervasive in the black community and often manifests itself in a negative aspirations to post-secondary education?

Then I got it. Through observation of interactions, media, and conversations I'm repeatedly told that it’s preferred and more cool to live out the stereotypes often found on the local 3 letter cable station and 3 letter athletic association. But, allow me if you will to present you with this thrill, I guarantee you will have greater time dismantling, escaping, and breaking stereotypical limitations while creating new knowledge in the process.

I'm beyond convinced that TV, internet, video games, etc. lulls youth into stupor and distraction. But they aren't solely to blame. We who have been educated have a duty that we aren't living up to which is to call the younger generation to their greater good. The key is engagement, not a dumbing down to make something relevant. I ask you, how do we engage our youth and also one another so as to make scholarship relevant again? How do we imbue them with a sense of aspiration that translates into intellectual swagger in the academy? We have to go back to creating cultures of literacy. It’s easier said than done and at best a far off wishful thought. I know such an idea is unfathomable today because instantaneous gratification rules our society. This short sightedness tells people what to think as opposed to how to think.

I move that we become more outcome oriented. Be intentional and nurture potential. Suggest a book to a youth that you've read and are familiar with.

But FYP (for your polishing), I would be remiss if I didn't leave you with this: Go get lost. Yeh. Go get lost in a library.

When is the last you've been to the library strictly for recreational purposes?

-WAC, III-

Lay it down. Take it off.

A conversation with my colleague prompted me to do some real thinking in terms of my disposition in general and in particular my attitude and approach toward women. Granted this conversation wasn't about that subject matter entirely, but one or two things my bro said in the convo spurred me to really think.

I was considering how that as a guy I at times lack humility and grace in my dealings with the opposite sex. I often present this persona that is chock full of a sense of entitlement as if she owes me something. A presence or performed swagger that seeks to attract her interest in me in order to vaunt myself up and not for the sake of truly getting to know her for her. Combine that with the air of expectancy that I've been carrying around and it proves to be a volatile mix. But alas, I had a moment to think. A moment to reflect. A moment when things started to click and make sense in a different way than they had before. Realizing that at the end of the day, no person owes you anything and that matters of divining and holding the attention of another are not to be taken lightly. I thought about the need for more grace, more consideration, more humility, more honor, more intentionality, less entitlement, less pretension, and less non-chalance in my dealings. Why? Because she's a lady. A lady just like my mom, sisters, and nieces whom I love dearly and wouldn't dare think of treating in a manner less than befitting of the queens I hold them to be. A lady who by that very virtue is owed a type of respect. Although she may not be the potential Mrs. Christian she's still a lady. And I need to be appreciative that this lady (whomever she is and whenever she appears) has decided to give me the time of day.

With this thought in mind I began to prescribe a course of action for myself. It reads as follows:

• I need to stop acting non-chalant and cool as if women don't matter because they do.
• I need to stop fronting like I've got it all together because I don't.

I thought about how in my not having it all together, she on some level decides to deal with me. The how and why of which I sometimes don't even understand. Because some days I catch a glimpse of how fallible I really am or better yet, how many poor choices over the course of 26 years I have made. How there's a thin line between confidence and arrogance and I often get caught up in making the two indistinguishable. How my pride often gets in the way of any purity that I may posses. How my ego blocks my emotions and how playing it cool has closed as many doors as its opened.

More often than not, there comes a time when you have to lay down your pride and take off your cool. Lay it down. Take it off.

And I got to thinking that just as no amount of education or 'coolness' will ever surmount the fact that above all else I'm my mom's son the same holds true with women. No amount of this or that will eradicate the fact that above all else I'm a guy who is prone to making mistakes and doing things that no amount of pride or cool can cover. And although I may clean up nicely it only serves to make a good presentation but underneath I'm still fallible me. If she chooses to deal with me after peering through my limited concealment, then I need to be ok that she can deal with the not so cool me that she so happens to find well, cool.

-WAC, III-

The life examined

Reflection. Thorough examination of yourself. It's testy. Scary. Heady. Dissonant. But one has to know their self. Sometimes life presents us with situations where we're splayed open and split in two. Situations where previous thinking is rendered irrelevant or is at worst shattered. This shattering gives us a rare chance in this transient life to look at the pieces. To really examine them. To scrutinize them. A rare opportunity to look at you; to see what you're really made of. Look at it. Understand it. Know it. Own it.

Sometime life's circumstances at times will drive us to go into ourselves. This experience can be either good or bad but hopefully the outcome is positive. Hopefully you emerge a better person. Be cautioned not to withdraw so much into yourselves that you get lost and can't re-emerge. Much like the body intrinsically has what it needs to heal when cut, likewise does the mind. And those qualities won't be activated until demanded upon to do so.

There comes points when we are in conflict with ourselves. Times where don't always act on what we know. Sometimes we fall short of being what we say we're all about. This confusion about ourselves can easily give way to doubt. I however surmise if not challenge us to move beyond the battle of the dichotomy between thought and action to overcoming and conquering with knowledge and definition.

For me knowledge of myself is only revealed through knowing God. In knowing and cultivating this relationship I have an opportunity to know what the Creator intends for me, what He says about me, what He has articulated in his word as definition for things in my life of which I am uncertain. Knowledge that says as much of a good man that I think I am, no goodness of my own can ever compare or do anything to warrant the goodness that God extends toward me.  When life brings about confusion or fleeting moments that seem unclear, I'm kindly reminded of the words in Jer 29:11 that He knows the plans He has has for me and those are good and for His glory. For God is ultimately and always good. Anything that He allows to happen in my life, regardless of how I feel, is for my good and ultimately for His glory.

Does this mean that I should wallow in the unclarities of my life, that more grace may abound? No. In wrestling to understand and in seeking, I am to act on what I already know. Though I don't always understand me; wretched and depraved me, He does. Apart from Him, I by myself have no sense of purpose. I have no sense of a greater good that exist because even on my best day I'm still prone to failure and depravity that makes no sense. Any good that I exhibit is a result of knowing Him and His purpose being hammered out in me.

-WAC, III-

Paradigm Shifter

Getting over someone after a break up is never easy. There's no prescriptive method on how to do so. For a long while there existed this paradigm in my mind. This paradigm was this multi-faceted construct of everything I thought the she in my life should be. And I thought what I needed to get over someone was what I call a 'paradigm shifter'. That is someone who would come along and change my thinking on how I look at women, what I expected of them, and who would eradicate the standard of someone else that I was holding them to. But I was wrong.

It was me who had shift my own paradigm. I had to break the mold. And now I have to reconceptualize the standard. In my previous thinking about searching for a paradigm shifter, I was giving too much power away. I was expecting someone to do for me what I could have done for myself all along. I had to really sit down with myself and truly think through what it is that I want in someone, what it is that I expect, and define for myself what is my standard. I had to stop worrying about the 'what ifs' of the past and start focusing on the 'what will be' or 'who will be's' of the future. In doing so I gained more control. A greater control over what I expect to give and receive. But to get there wasn't easy and often times we're afraid to break that paradigm because its safe and familiar.

In reflection, we have to thank them for the time they spent with us. We have to appreciate, cherish, and respect the time and memories but we can't remain in 'what if' land. You have to protect your emotions and store them up for that next special person that is destined to come along. And we have to move on. We must move on. There is someone out there who requires so much more of you and to not prepare yourself for them by living in the past is to do them injustice. There's no love lost its just compartmentalized. Compartmentalized as part of my past and bears witness to the capabilities that I posses to be someone's great significant other. The breaking of the paradigm is not to be lamented over for in subscribing to the previous constraints of said paradigm, it by its very nature is severely limiting. If anything we should be inspired, for we are to be expectant to see who and what will be. I'm convinced that the magic isn't in the possibility of getting back together, it now exists in the possibility of what is to come.

-WAC, III-

On becoming a man...

It wasn't by choice that I became the bigger, better, or good man; life's circumstances demanded that I be.

-WAC, III-

What is 'it'?

When dating a female, guys give one particular answer as to why they chose not to continue the relationship:

'She just didn't have it.'

The it is that certain 'je ne sais quoi' factor that we're looking to describe or fill in. The it is that substantive umph (for lack of a better word) that a man can really sink his teeth into. To put it aptly, it's the difference in pandering for candy or indulging in the rich complexities of a well prepared meal.

But ask seven different guys what it is and you're going to get seven different answers. I've been guilty of saying a female didn't have it and although I knew what it meant, it was hard to express. So what is it? I think it for me is simple. It is an ideal that's described as having depth of substance, confidence of character, and security in self that radiates from her that makes me want to involve myself with her not just on a superficial level but on an emotional level. It is when a woman ignites a passion in a man for him to get to really know and care about her beyond her beauty.

 Keep in mind that this description is not comprehensive nor is it a prescription to go from ain't to it.

I've often been able to tell if she had it by the way she walked. I don't know how but I just knew. I believe that a female knows if she has it. Matter of fact, I like females who walk in their it. Not in a way that is ostentatious, over-stated, or beyond them but more demure like. Increasingly, I've found myself more attracted to the way a woman carries herself; the details of her personality, style (not just clothes but the way shes does everything), and sense of humor. Its the interplay between these that make it it. I think this plays a significant role in whether it is there or is not.

Such thoughts have led me to ponder if whether or not it is progressive, relative, or requisite. I don't think one can go out looking for it. It hits you smack in the face. Like walking into a glass door that you didn't realize was there. But when you get hit, slightly startled you take a step back, smile, chuckle, and realize it was there all along.

Yeah that's it.

-WAC, III-

Ever the optimist

The blessing about life that we often miss is that as long as you're alive life goes on. You live to see another day and perhaps that day can be better than your previous days. It behooves us to live life one day at a time for we know not what tomorrow may bring.

This truth can become clouded after a bad break up, divorce, loss, or termination from a job. The same optimism that you once had when you were with your significant other or on that job interview is the same optimism that you must strive to get back to and getting there is a process. It takes a certain optimism to move forward in spite of your current circumstances. There are other times when optimism is not about moving forward but staying right where you are knowing with certainty that things will improve.

By no means am I talking about a blind optimism. If anything, I want to present an optimism that is tangibly grounded in reality. One of the ways that I conceptualize my optimism is through assessment. I first ask myself if what I am trying to accomplish is even feasible. If Z is possible then I will start at A. What optimism doesn't overlook is the fact that there are the risks associated with traversing from A to Z. Rather it takes into account those risks and asks whether or not those risks are enough to keep one from reaching Z.

In my life there were times when I thought that situations would not improve but I had to know that they would. Thinking and knowing of course are two different things. Thinking speaks to the temporal, fleeting synapses of the brain but knowing speaks to the deep seeded composition of truth that is foundational to the life of the mind. I'm thankful that I was able to coalesce my thoughts around what I knew to produce an optimism that lifted me out of dark times.

A scripture that is the basis for my optimism is Romans 8:28:

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose."

I love the certainty with which the Apostle Paul speaks to the Church at Rome. At this time Rome was a thriving metropolis and was pretty much the seat of the world. Can you imagine the things that occurred in this bustling city where Christians (the ridiculed, despised new religion of that time) were thrown in jail or the lion's den for the entertainment of the masses? Or consider Paul, who at this point had been beaten, jailed, run out of town a couple of times, and shipwrecked. Yet and still under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit he gives us certainty in knowing that all things work together for the good. Not some things or things that seem pleasing or positive but all things. Even our sufferings, hurts, and despair is at work for the good that God has seen fit.

Take refuge in knowing that all things work together for the pleasure of God's will. O for grace that we may comprehend the purpose of what God allows in our lives for His will and the optimism to press forward in spite of that which we have not yet readily comprehended.

-WAC, III-

Short thoughts with long term implications

There is knowledge--->intellectual refinement--->Application--->WISDOM

• The dignity of discipline and the decency of character.
• Hubris versus Humility
• Sensation versus Substance
• Intentionality in communication so as to obtain desired result.

-WAC, III-

Tough as nails

    Yesterday morning I took my grandpa to the doctors for his routine dialysis appointment. On the way there, he asked me to stop by McDonald's to have his usual order before his appointment. His order consisted of a number three and a strawberry milkshake. Yup. A strawberry milkshake at approximately 9:27 a.m. Not an orange juice, sprite, coke, or ginger ale but a strawberry milkshake. Now I wasn't as taken aback as I would have been had not my father prepped me before I left the house. However I was still somewhat surprised, yet all the more perplexed, but found humor in the combination of this order. I began to think about his order and the possible rationale behind his order in the context and observations that I have made about my grand father.

    Some would classify my grand father as stubborn and set in his ways. And to an extent I agree. But in widening the scope of my purview, I see that my grandfather has had a mental fortitude about him that has garnered him the right to order his '9:27a.m. milkshake' on a Monday as opposed to my 8a.m. coffee. When I say my grandpa is from the 'old-school', he's really from the old school. Not that pseudo romanced cliche' of a term 'old-school' but the kind that evokes images of long wooden plank barely sanded benches, dusty floors, and a chalk board in dire need of washing. Now I wouldn't say that my grandpa is the most educated or learned man but Wilmon A. Christian, Sr. has pretty much always known what he's wanted, what it takes to accomplish what he wants, and how to put together that which he wants. Wilmon Sr. knew that he didn't just want to have a family but wanted to start a clan so he married my grandmother, had six children, and provided land for each of those children. He also knew that he liked music but buying a radio was far too simple for him rather he opted to teach himself how to make music; strumming away at his guitar when he got the chance.

    When I was born, he was going through this phase of building. Building any and everything, whatever he wanted on his land. If in his mind there was a necessity or desire to build something, it got built. Things such as massive tool sheds, garages, and structures that were incomprehensible sprang up all over his land. These seemingly unfinished, odd, and archaic structures were the adventuresome playgrounds of little kids like myself but to him they were the actualization of ingenuity.

    Now to some, the way I have described this man he would seem to be a pragmatist. But he was more than that. Yes, pragmatic in the sense that if he had enough space and a need for something to be built then it was. But a mental fortitude in that he outright owned his ideas and creations, endured ridicule for what he created, stood by what he created even if no one else did but himself, and was able to bring to fruition that which he saw in his mind's eye.

    As a young man I value this type of ability that my grandpa possessed. My hope is that I will develop the mental fortitude to be bold and to know what it is that I want, the mental tenacity to endure ridicule, criticism, and the process of intellectual development, and the mental dexterity to have an open mind and to be able to think on multiple planes.

    Yeh, my grandpa or 'Pa-Pa' as he is called is tough as nails. He used to bathe in bleach after laying cement for construction, has had a tree fall on him, he's a heart attack survivor, a widower, a guitar player, a builder, a father, a grand father, has had numerous other experiences and is many other things. I believe the hardest part for him now is not being able to readily express his thoughts with clarity and be understood. For that old nail of a man, his point may be a little dull but every now and again I catch glimpses of his mental fortitude that speaks to his character.

 -WAC, III-