Twenty years ago today, defiance was one of the
greatest feelings about being black in America.
We could’ve “burned this bitch down” or continued a
“we’ll show ‘em” defiance gassing our angst due in no small part to the rap
music from our teenage years and the concept of a Million Man March. Thanks,
2Pac, Snoop, Dre, Westside Connection, Outkast, Goodie Mob, Bone, and the late Eazy-E
for being the soundtrack of my struggle. For a significant number of us, the
idea of Day of Absence from schools, work, and the American economy as a whole
appealed to my generation. Even with the media mystifying and slandering the
idea of black unity, it felt right to want to be a part of something larger
than ourselves.
Imagine one million black men in the same place for
one unifying uplifting cause. That’s what scared the Man – and what began
(theoretically) a spiritual reclamation project: to reassert the black man’s role in the
family, the community, and dispel the stereotypical behaviors pushed by NBC,
ABC, CNN, Fox, and others.
As with today, the justice system profited from the
surveillance, scrutiny, and fear associated with black skin back then. The only
differences are we are quicker to support our interactions with video and our
activism in shedding the light on unsavory deeds within our legal, political
and economic systems. In a way, we all should thank St. Louis native (and
Twitter founder) Jack Dorsey for allowing us to get our message out to a larger
crowd in 140 characters or fewer.
Want evidence of that earlier black activism? After
we traded our Karl Kani and Cross Colours for Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren,
Hilfiger had the audacity to say that his clothing was not intended for black
people. With that statement, his company lost hundreds of millions of dollars
overnight as a result of that insensitive remark as well as any aspirational
credibility or goodwill from black America.
Moreover, the 1995 March was on a weekday. What an
eff-you to the mainstream establishment’s ideology of a normal work week!
Imagine what Conway High would’ve looked like had we
all stayed home that day. For one, the FCSD would have been out on truancy calls
throughout the day, and there is no telling what kind of field day CPD would
have enjoyed hauling young brothers in.
Then you also have the parents (like mine) who were
sending us to school and later work regardless of the national picture.
National Day of Absence may have been a national event, but in the Armstrong
household, you took your ass to school or work without complaint. I did both;
Taco Bell also saw me that night. Even in my junior year of high school, the
belt loomed over the results of bad decisions and back talk, so some things
were just left well enough alone. I could exhibit my black pride in holding
down the fort, as brothers were more prone to lose their primary sources of
income for taking off THAT DAY.
Brother Louis gave us marching orders to storm the
National Mall peacefully if we were able to get there.
Spike Lee’s biopic Get on the Bus portrays the gamut of brothers across the nation. If
you can score it from Netflix, Redbox, or your local movie rental place, give
it a revisit.
Have we improved? Yes and no.
Obviously, there is a special beauty in having the
President of the United States look like you as well as other Cabinet leaders –
Secretaries Colin Powell, Condoleezza and Susan Rice – as well as Attorney
General Eric Holder. Moreover, it has also trickled down to the state level
where Massachusetts and New York State have elected black governors and even
Florida has had a black female lieutenant governor!
While those are symbolic changes, what has come of
it for the average Jamal such as me?
A pair of minimum wage increases, the passage of the
FMLA, a less tedious path to homeownership, a heightened awareness, and more
social doors opened than what could have ever been expected.
Yet, we still have reasons to be angry. That cannot
be denied.
There are a litany of issues facing black America
beyond hostile cops and callous bosses:
blighted communities, spreading poverty, black-on-black crime,
unemployment, recidivism, underemployment, a stagnant economy, food deserts,
rising health costs, and so forth. Are the solutions easy to find? No.
Collectively, we must find a way to pool our resources and solve our problems
as opposed to relying on someone else to do the work for us. Brother Louis,
Jesse, and Al are eventually stepping aside for younger leaders like Deray and
the sisters who founded Black Lives Matter to take the mantle in our pursuit of
the equal justice America speaks over and around us.
While I personally chronicle that February 2007
night in Avon as my “nigga, wake up!” call, the Million Man March back then
stoked a pride in my blackness – or what people in high school called my lack
thereof. I was just different, that’s all. Twenty years later, the sequel is a
clarion call to get up, get out, and do something better: keep pushing for better legislation and more
inclusive ordinances (see Black Skin, Blue Water); encourage STEM education to
our children; become better stewards of our environment; return the church’s
role in true outreach beyond the four walls each Sunday morning; vote and/or
boycott with our dollars; make both political parties EARN our votes instead of taking them for granted; and learn to
leave legacies behind that stand the test of time.
No matter how educated I am, my middle-class status,
work experiences, modest home, nice cars or money in the retirement account, to
some members of society that is still not enough: I’ll always be an outlier to them. Is that
fair? I don’t think so; I honestly hope my daughter is left with a better world
than the one I was inherited with. Therefore, I must make my impact with her
first before stepping out and showing the rest of the world what it is to be
strong, independent, gifted, and Black.
The anniversary of the Million Man March is more
inclusive than the earlier one – the original did not entirely discourage women
from participating - but it was geared more toward men to getting our
collective houses in order.
If defiance of the established system is one of the
greatest attributes of the original Million Man March, then surely we must not
become too comfortable with the events in today’s world in light of our
successes and advancements. That “eff the Man” spirit must always exist – even
if we are the Man. Far too many of us have received post-dated checks from
institutions that continue to ignore, castigate, or dismiss our requests; the
time to sit down and take the scraps is long gone.
Battling apathy should now become the endgame for us
even as some of us are going to be left behind – and I’m not just talking about
black conservatives who shuck and jive for Massa, doing his evil bidding to get
the big piece of chicken or shit-grin with watermelon. While we have come a
long way, the war is not complete. The Million Man March at 20 should be a
rededication toward family, community, and an acknowledgment of what can come
from black unity.
