Hear The Words: Bernard Hopkins, Cornel West, Melissa Harris-Parry Speak

A week ago, I was caught by surprise to see that an elite athlete I've had the pleasure to meet in Bernard Hopkins had unleashed a quiver of verbal darts at ex-Philadelphia Eagle quarterback, Donovan McNabb lethal enough to fell a herd of buffalo. Hopkins poison of choice was to attack the "Blackness" of McNabb, saying that he simply has a "sun tan", and that during his tenure with the Eagles he was more or less a house slave. As a Philly native, this spat strikes a chord because I know well that sports icons like McNabb, Hopkins, Iverson, and Vick all appeal to many, but also have their detractors. That being said, none of them is more or less "Black" than the other, so while I couldn't disagree more with Hopkins assessment of McNabb, I do think it is necessary to hear what he is saying and understand the context from which it arises because I believe that it speaks more to a class divide than a racial divide, which is growing not just in the Black community, but in all communities of color. As the week following Hopkins comments unfolded, another Black-0n-Black squabble erupted as the esteemed Dr. Cornel West aired his personal disappointment with President Obama and sunk to the level of questioning his Blackness. This is a dangerous practice which must be addressed, for it threatens to rip apart communities which need to be able unite in order to shift current power structures.

The immediate responses that I read to Bernard Hopkins comments were that he should largely be ignored because the misunderstanding of racial construction that his comments displayed was not worth validating with a response. Michael Wilbon, of PTI fame, and an ESPN columnist tweeted that "What he said is moronic and he ought to be ridiculed at every chance." Other Facebook responses I read noted that B-Hop may be feeling the effects of too many headshots. I agree that the degree of ignorance in the comments is sky high and have no intention of defending them. The irony of the comments is also high considering that I met Bernard Hopkins and his kids at a Country Club while he was a guest of his lawyer, which suggests that he, and more importantly his children, currently live a life that he suggests make one less Black. I do, however, disagree that the response should be to summarily dismiss B-Hop because like it or not, his comments represent a stream of thought which is prevalent not only in the Black community, but in every community of color. With the increasing disappearance of the middle class due to the changing formation of the labor force, there is an increasing poor class not content to see other members of their ethnic group "make it" and not reach back to help those who are struggling. This mindset brings to mind a verse from Philly rapper Freeway who describes a tendency towards violence when one's situation is disparate:

"If a sneak start leanin' and the heat stop workin'
Then my heat start workin' I'm-a rob me a person

Catch a n#*&a sleepin' while he out in the open...and I'm-a get him"

Bernard Hopkins embodies the mindset Freeway rhymes about despite his current lifestyle because before he became a champion fighter, he served almost five years for burglary, so he knows what it is not to have and seek to get by any means necessary. If you do a quick google search, you might be surprised to see how many pro athletes have been robbed either in their homes or in their cars because they are seen, particularly in the Black community as the elite. It is lazy to simply point out race as the reason for this contempt, because it's the easy common denominator, but as Cornel West proved this week, even the most educated among us can slip.

In the academic world, Dr. Cornel West, much like Hopkins, is seen as a heavyweight Champion. He's cited by young scholars endlessly, he speaks everywhere, and you could make the argument that he's America's scholar. This week, he showed that even he could be knocked off his normal academic posture in an interview he gave to Chris Hedges where he detailed his estranged relationship with the President. He then went on to offer the speculative analysis that the President has chosen a particular set of advisors based largely on his racial identity. Dr West asserts that because of his upbringing in a largely White context "He's always had to fear being a White man with Black skin. All he has known culturally is white." If you take away the visual in your mind of an afro-wearing brother in a Black suit making these comments, you could make the leap that they came out of the mouth of a fellow inmate of B-Hop's as opposed to a Harvard-educated, Princeton-tenured professor. Dr. West's racial analysis is as simplistic as Hopkins and he should know better. I was happy to see Dr. West's former colleague at Princeton, Dr. Melissa-Harris Perry pointedly note the flaws in West's analysis in The Nation this week because we do not get to the true root of the issue when we attack and discredit each other based on racial viability.

The point that gets lost in all of the racial dart throwing is that poor people in communities all across the nation are hurting more than ever, and they do not see help coming down the tracks anytime soon or lasting much longer than the CNN or MSNBC cameras stay in town. New Orleans is still hurting, Alabama and Memphis are currently hurting, and when those who have been blessed with financial and human resources do not lend a hand to help, then contempt is an inevitable result. So yes, Bernard Hopkins and Cornel West may be flawed in the presentation of their arguments, but the source and sentiment of the argument has merit. Hopkins took issue with how McNabb treated him and teammates. Fine. Dr. West continues to take issue with President Obama's commitment to the poor and downtrodden. Fine. Those critiques, however, can be offered without invoking historically provocative racial archetypes like the "house slave". A little research on life for folks who live around the Appalachian mountains will show you that times are tough for everyone, and race is only a piece of the issue. The best recommendation I can make is to find a way to spend some time in area where folks are hurting and lend a hand wherever possible. The disparity between haves and have nots will continue to rage if the privileged do not take it upon themselves to share their blessings with those less fortunate.

My Breakup With the N-word

I don't know if it's the two gray hairs I consistently notice sticking out of my scalp no matter how short I cut my hair. I don't know if it's the soon-to-be five year old running around my house, or if it's the fact that I'm about to finish my marathon of a doctoral program, but some kind of development has occurred over the last few years which has brought me to the point where every time I hear the N-word, it's like someone smacks me on the back of my neck, and yells "Open neck, no respect", like when I was younger and had just gotten a fresh haircut. My reaction then as it is now was to hunch my shoulders in order to absorb the sting. In the name of not developing a permanent nervous tick, I'm going to have to break up with the N-word, for I can no longer defend it's use, particularly in the Black vernacular lexicon.

For years as a lover of hip-hop, I have tolerated the N-word as it was creatively laced through the rhymes of some of my favorite artists. I even tried to convince myself of the argument that through hip-hop culture, the meaning of the word had somehow been changed from a venom-laced word that had the power to send the most serene and tranquil into a rage into a term of endearment as some of my generation have argued. Alas, the two gray hairs, the five year-old, and the nearly completed doctorate have forced me to recognize that at best, my beloved hip hop culture has altered the definition in the Webster's Dictionary from meaning ALWAYS offensive to USUALLY offensive. It cannot be denied that hip hop has been instructive in helping to engage the use of the word, however too often, the attempts at social commentary are drowned out by reckless use of the word. A Tribe Called Quest's Sucka N***a and Mos Def's Mr. N***a stand out as texts which have helped the world understand the complexities of the relationship with the word while also understanding the historical baggage that the word carries. Almost twenty years ago Q-tip rhymed:

"See, nigga first was used back in the Deep South Fallin out between the dome of the white man's mouth It means that we will never grow, you know the word dummy Other niggas in the community think it's crummy But I don't, neither does the youth cause we em-brace adversity it goes right with the race"

I remember as a first year teacher laying the song for my first class of HS Seniors so that they could understand the tension over the use of the word, and as I examine the lyrics almost a decade later, I realize that the definition that Q-Tip put on himself and the Black "youth" of embracing adversity (read: negativity) because it goes hand in hand with Black people is limiting.  It is a nod to the idea that Black people have always been and always will be the oppressed.  This is a notion of Blackness that I would never want the five year-old to have, and it is a notion that I try to get the high schoolers I work with to resist because embracing negativity limits aspiration.  It's the negativity that creates the stinging sensation like the "Open neck no respect" slap, and it's what Mos Def so eloquently rhymed about in Mr Nigga:

"They stay on n***a patrol on american roads And when you travel abroad they got world n***a law Some folks get on a plane go as they please But I go over seas and I get over-SEIZED London Heathrow, me and my people They think that illegal's a synonym for negro"
Whether the commentary comes from Mos Def or Chris Rock, the negative connotation to the N-word is never far away.  So when it comes to fighting against racism, that endeavor becomes more difficult when it appears that Black people are more than willing to indulge in self-hate through music and other popular forms of expression.  Most ethnic groups have similar derogatory terms that they grapple with, however, few words have the same historical legacy of hatred attached to them as the N-word, and we therefore need to let it go.  There are more than enough other words in the lexicon to describe the ignorant, and the N-word doesn't need to be one of them.  You can't name  me one song that is enhanced by the use of the word, and while I don't advocate for erasure of the word from historical texts like Uncle Tom's Cabin, which we use to provide context for the word's sordid history, I don't think the word needs to continue to have a life in some of our most cherished art forms.  Perhaps if more people start to breakup with the N-word, then those who are not Black will not have such a fascination with it's usage (yes you Quentin Tarantino, J-Lo, and Michael Richards).  
Now that I have broken up with the word, I'll be buying a lot more radio edits, and talking to a lot more young people, because the more people can understand not only the history of the word, but also the history of the people for whom the word is intended, then they would be less apt to want to use the word.  The gray hairs, the five year-old and the doctoral degree won't let me do anything else.

Birthdays and Milestones JC style

Tuesday marked 34 years of living for me and while I usually do very little on my birthday beyond my normal daily activities, this year I decided to change my approach to April 19th slightly. My first change was to tweek my Facebook settings and see what all the hoopla was about in terms of receiving birthday shout outs from the friend base. Since creating my Facebook page, I'd been skeptical about shenanigans so I restricted the ability to post on my wall. Three years in, I've come to realize that 1. It's not that serious 2. I can delete foolishness quickly, so I threw open the gates. The other thing I decided to do was take advantage of the fact that Mom (aka Grams the Child Spolier) is in town and get out for a change, so I invited some folks to join me and the Mrs. for a night of Live R&B, food and drink. Both decisions proved to be worth their weight in gold. The number of posts on my wall, messages, and texts far exceeded my expectation. Yes, Facebook interaction is not the same as picking up the phone, but it's something, and I know how busy people are so I was touched and made sure to respond to every birthday wish I received. I do not consider myself someone who has a large circle of friends, so to hear from so many folks was an affirmation that the folks I'm connected to are quality folks, and that I'm at least important enough to warrant some key strokes on the computer or phone when 4/19 rolls around. So again I say thank you to those who hit me up this week to wish me well on my birthday. Your thoughts along with typical California weather made for a great week and have been like a cold cup of Gatorade that energizes as I'm in the midst of a run.

The way I look at my birthday has also forever been changed because of the proximity of it to my man Fran Crippen who tragically passed this October while competing in and Open Water race that had no business being contested in the UAE. In a cruel twist of fate, I got the horrible news via text while getting ready to celebrate the marriage of my Fraternal line brother. It had been almost 12 years since I met Fran when he was a sophomore at Germantown Academy. We developed a relationship over those HS years where we kept in touch as he compiled numerous accolades at the University of Virginia and as a member of the Mission Viejo Nadadores. The last time I saw him is the perfect snapshot for my memory. He had just won the Open Water Nationals 10k event, and helped a teammate win the 5k race two days later. I met him and some of his closest friends and family at a Long Beach restaurant to celebrate his victory and the marathon I had just run. He was truly at the top of his game and I looked forward to his eventual coronation as an Olympian, which was his dream. The fact that that opportunity was taken away from him, means that for me, enjoying the milestones takes on a new meaning. They are not moments to be played down, but instead should be given their proper recognition. When my son danced all over the house Monday as he presented me with my very own Star Wars light saber, all I could do was watch and take it all in. The fact that my wife, parents, and mother-in-law chipped in to surprise me with a computer, two weeks after my laptop died moved me to the point where my eyes were "sweating". The motto of the Elevation Foundation, created in Fran's memory, is "Live Your Dash", and for me, the emotion generated by people's large and small acts of kindness is what that mantra is all about. Fran embodied that in all aspects of his life while he was with us, and he leaves it behind as a valuable reminder to us all.

As I move beyond the celebration of my birth this week, the countdown begins to the end of my doctoral program, a milestone five years in the making. I have no idea the emotions I will feel as I defend my dissertation, participate in the Hooding Ceremony, and walk the stage at graduation, but I know that I will be surrounded by family and friends who have supported me the whole way. It has been a process that has not only developed my skills as an educational researcher, but has also cemented my commitment to use the entirety of my skill set to have an impact on the lives of as many young people as possible. I have been blessed with much, and have had a privileged life in many ways. The friends that I have developed over the years have been a huge part of that along with my family. I'll be checking in here on the blog more often now that there is a functional dissertation with my name on it. I feel that the most exciting part of my journey is just beginning, and it's not fun if you can't share with those who you not only care about, but have played a role in making it happen.

My Personal ROCK THE BELLS

This weekend, a magical lineup of Hip-Hop acts will come together to perform at the 2010 Rock The Bells concert. Since I can't go, I will be putting together my own playlist of the headliners and rocking it LOUDLY to have my own Rock the Bells experience, minus the obligatory weed smoke and hard-guy screw faces. Enjoy.

SNOOP DOGG
Deep Cover
What's My Name?
Doggy Dogg World
Drop It Like It's Hot
That's That Isht

A TRIBE CALLED QUEST (ALL TIME FAVORITE!! THEY GET BONUS RUN)
Can I Kick It
Bonita Applebaum
Check The Rhyme
Butter
Jazz (We've Got)
Buggin Out
Award Tour
Electric Relaxation
Oh My God
Scenario

Wuuuuuuuuu Tang Clan
Protect Ya Neck
Da Mystery of Chessboxin
Method Man
Can It Be All So Simple
C.R.E.A.M
Ice Cream (GhostFace, Rae, and Meth)

Rakim
I Ain't No Joke
Paid in Full
Know the Ledge (JUICE)
Don't Sweat the Technique
Microphone Fiend

KRS-ONE
The Bridge Is Over
Outta Here
Return of the Boom Bap
Black Cop
MCs Act Like They Don't Know

SLICK RICK
Children's Story
Mona Lisa
Teenage Love
Hey Young World
La-Di-Da-Di

DJ Premier (Instrumentals)
DWYCK (Gang Staar)
Just To Get a Rep (Gang Staar)
Real Hip-Hop (Das Efx)
Full Clip (Gang Staar)
Kick in the Door (B.I.G.)

So looking forward to playing this out, and I don't even have to sit through the non-descript opening acts.

On Dr. Laura, Blagojevitch, NBA Ballers

This week I've got the dissertation mojo rollin', so the blog action will be reduced to a verbal drive by of things that have clouded my mind as I try to get the diss out:

DR. LAURA
I've read on a couple of different sites that Dr. Laura wasn't racist with her decision to use the N-word. WRONG! Racism is based on the notion that one leans on their ethnic privilege to maintain traditional institutions of power. Dr. Laura boasting to a Black woman caller that she told her Black bodyguard that she wanted him on her basketball team because "White men can't jump" is exactly the kind of stereotype reinforcement that is characteristic of simple-minded bigots. She later admitted having little grasp of the politics around the N-word, and that's where she should have begun the conversation. I wish her luck doing speaking engagements to other simple-minded folks whose grasp of race is as wide as a hair follicle.

BLAGOJEVICH
It appears shocking that this seemingly arrogant dude got off especially when you hear that there were FEDERAL WIRETAPS involved, but at the end of the day his hand was NOT caught in the cookie jar. Simple. I'm actually surprised that the jury was 11-1. When I heard deadlocked, I was thinking 7-4 or 6-5. As 72 year-old Chicago native, Leota Johnson, noted from the courtroom, pay-for-play politics in Chi-town is normal. I'll be on the lookout for Blagojevich's "How to Get Off" reality show

NBA BALLERS
For those who want to crush NBA ballers for symbolically saying "GIVE US FREE" by manipulating their contracts so they can get out urban "hot spots" like Denver (Melo), Cleveland (LeBron), and Minnesota (Garnett) to play in more attractive cities, I say stop hatin'. I don't know too many people who wouldn't pack up shop IMMEDIATELY if they had the opportunity to make more money in salary and other income by relocating to a more metropolitan area. It's about time the players started to cultivate their own leverage against owners who've been making money off their backs for years. They just better do it before they get locked out next year because the owners won't leave the rabbit hole open for ever.

My prayers go out to those in Pakistan dealing with continued flooding and destruction stemming from the monsoon. The notion that an area as large as London is underwater is mind-boggling.

Hooray Marriage! The Book Closes on Year 8

As I again sit in a hotel room (for the 3rd year in a row) with no prospect of seeing my wife on our Anniversary, I again turn to my internet family to share and reflect on what she has meant to me over the last eight years. This year is especially poignant for us because we saw friends fall from the ranks of the married. So since I shared all my accumulated knowledge last year, I've only got a story and a recommendation this year. Indulge me if you will.

My Dad's consistent piece of advice when it came to women was "Jon, make sure you find a girl that's in your corner." Early on, I never thought this was exactly Yoda-like wisdom when he would say it, but as I got older, and the relationships became more complex, I quickly realized that my Father was laying on me the type of simple wisdom that one must pay their dues to understand. Having a "girl in your corner" did not mean the most sexually adventurous girl, or the girl who would bark like a dog while hopping on one leg like in Coming to America. It also didn't mean the girl who felt it was her duty to plan my life for me. When I started dating Nkechi Okoro, she had many "friends", and I felt I had no shot as I was an assistant second grade teacher making just enough to still live like a college student with my roomates who were all doing a fifth year because of their ridiculously difficult engineering majors. Nevertheless, we exchanged phone numbers, and soon were involved in a Turnpike Love that gave me the ability to navigate the NJ Turnpike with my eyes closed. One night at the close of one of our marathon phone conversations, I expressed that I wished we could see each other that weekend, knowing that we wouldn't. I was awakened by the phone three hours later

Me: "Hello"
Voice on the other end: "Did you still want to see me?"
Me: "Of course"
Voice on the other end: "Well, come down stairs and open the door"

At the moment I hung up the phone it was clear that this was the type of woman my Dad was talking about. The type of woman my roomates and I had dubbed a "Franchise Player". We were engaged a little over a year later, and August 10, 2002 remains one of the happiest days of my life. I often tell people that I know that I am capable of anything because of who I was able to marry. They usually laugh and think I'm just being charming, but I'm serious every time I say it. So with each passing year, much like an NBA franchise, I try to improve to keep the franchise player happy and avoid a LeBron-like exodus of my Franchise Player.

According to Divorce.com, the #1 reason marriages fail is because of financial problems, and as someone who's spouse makes more than him (sacrelige in some circles), I have to make sure I'm at least doing my part. My suggestion to my peers in the marriage game is this: THE FINANCIAL SUMMIT. Usually there's one party who handles the finances and comes up with the budgets, etc. I submit that the FINANCIAL SUMMIT should absolutely be necessary for couples so that there is equal participation in the financial planning of the house and so that ALL events and expenses are considered. Do we remodel the bathroom or kitchen? Do we go to this wedding or split? Where we going for the holidays? Vacation? Where's Lil Man going to school in the Fall? The longer you stay in the marriage game, the more grown up and important these decisions become, and they should not be left to the person with the perceived financial skillz (even if they do have multiple degrees in economics, finance, etc). So I highly recommend that old head and new couples alike do like the Mrs and I will do Sunday and set an appointment to sit down with notepads, calculators, and pencils and plan out the fiscal year so that you can celebrate those special moments as they should be celebrated.

Getting Over Fear of the Water

As I sit here on press row watching Finals during the 2010 US Swimming Nationals, it gives me a unique opportunity to reflect on how far swimming has carried me. I've been involved in the sport for more than twnety-five years now, and it's hard to imagine that I was once the kid who was terrified to jump off of the diving board. In fact, I was the kid who wouldn't jump off the board unless someone was positioned directly under me.

All these years later, swimming is still paying the bills and while I get to marvel from the deck at the growing popularity of swimming as a spectator sport and the celebrity of swimmers like Phelps, Jones, and Coughlin, I can't help but be disturbed by the continuing trend of young people drowning all across this country. My heart sank earlier today as I read the story of the seven youth who drowned in the Red River in Louisiana. Even more saddening was that of all their family members who were assembled to enjoy some good bar-b-que, none of them could swim either, so they had to stand helpless as their young ones were taken away in the fast moving current. It makes me thankful that as scared as I used to be standing on the edge of the diving board, one meter off the ground, my mother made me stick with the sport. I can't imagine the terror that those kids must have felt as they found themselves swept away from the safety of the ledge where they had been playing minutes before. As a member of USA Swimming, it's absolutely necessary that we do more to curb such incidents from continuing to happen.

Data from a study done by the University of Memphis in partnership with USA Swimming indicates that FEAR is one of the biggest factors keeping parents from involving their kids in swim lessons. While I understand the initial hesitation, I would humbly direct those parents to the example of my mother, who doesn't know how to swim, but was adamant that all three of her chidren (and now her grandson) learn how to swim. The fear of watching your little ones go through lessons is nothing compared to the lifetime anxiety you'll feel every time you're near a pool or open water with the knowledge that your loved ones can't swim. For the ethnic families that worry about the damage that chlorine does to relaxed hair, go with braids for a summer, or au natural until the kids are water safe. The sad reality is that cities large and small will continue to cut pool time from their recreation budgets as long as the public does not make use of facilities. Swimming has been too good to me for me to look at it as a sport that is killing members of my community.