The Impact of an Era of Injustice

During times of slavery, there was a customary practice known as “buck-breaking”. I will refrain from going into the gory and grotesque details, however, I would like to talk about the lasting ramifications on the individuals that endured this, as well as future generations. Before I begin, I will start by stating that I do not in any way, shape, or form of fashion want to elicit any further hatred nor undue scrutiny for speaking about the past. I personally do not recognize race as a basis for rapport or relationship, but I cannot ignore the lasting impact that certain counts of history have played on my perception of others and the world around me. With that being said, I cannot turn a blind eye to the cries of outrage at current events, nor can I be silent to the screams of souls yearning to be heard. To sum up events I would like to paint a picture….

Imagine being taken from your home, exchanged for goods and/or money and then sent to the hull of a monstrous ship with others of your kin chained together, while strange men of a lighter complexion who are not familiar with your character, creed or culture, or your native tongue, order you to do as they say. Too often these “masters” give no kindness. In the early years of this dark page in history the first to be sent by ship were not women or children. Months on end are spent at sea in closed confined spaces and when the “masters” had a particularly poison-filled itch, your body was used as the scratching post. Countless acts of repetitive dehumanization are committed while on the long arduous journey to a foreign land with no support other than the others who share in the brokenness, the trauma, the travesty. Then, years later women and children are subjected to the same sickening scene. The females taken were not women of mature age, but girls not yet fully grown. After arriving to the destination, these slaves are paraded naked, measured, eyed from one side to the other with no more regard than one normally gives to livestock in public.

This scenario has plagued the minds of the masses who cannot shake the undulating screams of misery from their ancestors who were systematically subverted, their religion relegated to no real relevance in lieu of rape, and mentally murdered by being forced to acknowledge another man as “master”. It was depicted in the movie Amistad, as Cinque (Djimon Hounsou) stood in the courtroom and declared, “Give us free!”. There was a particularly gruesome scene where slaves were dropped off the side of the ship chained to a large boulder. The slaves screamed and gasped for help and each breath only brought death that much closer. Then came Roots, depicting a particularly gruesome tale of life on the plantation and the various degrees of torture, reinforced trauma-training and degrading duties forced upon fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters. The scene that haunts me to this day is that of Levar Burton, a young “Kunta Kinte” who is strapped to the side of a barn and beaten until he accepts that his name has unwillingly been changed to “Toby”. One can only wonder what the total number of deaths truly are from that particularly dark stain on the page of history that lasted roughly 400 years. This was the first count of mass cruelty, I identified with because I’m still living through the psychological repercussions passed down. As I turn the pages of the various books I’ve read, I realized that those of the same ethnic identifier as myself are not the only ones to have had to endured this, but I can only speak from my perspective. When I look through the history books, or try to stomach the gross depictions displayed in media, I am made aware of countless accounts of various cultures that have suffered in a similar fashion. Sadly, some will never have a voice to champion them as their bloodlines have been completely eradicated from the current era. They are left only with the soil to speak of their sadness.

Truthfully, I cannot claim Africa as my homeland, as I am too far removed from those events. Add the fact that my heritage is so far removed from those times, I have no traceable tribe or link to what most consider the motherland. I cannot claim any other land for home other than America. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the dilemma, because in my heart I am American, and proud to be. I am aware that America was founded upon tolerance. It was founded upon the principle that individuals had a right to pursue their own intentional purpose. I quote directly from our founding document:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to affect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. "

It was after this, that the world witnessed some of the greatest heroism in known history. America fought and won its freedom. There were some hard-fought battles as well as some tough lessons learned. I imagine the amount of pride in the newly founded country was intoxicating and bordering on the precipice of euphoria. The revelry, the romance, the bonding and reminiscing of the long arduous nights, the exploits recounted filled the hearts of the new American citizens. Citizens… yet all who were here were not considered citizens. Some were considered property. Some were considered not much more than beasts of burden. The countless degradations, the innumerable insults to dignity, are but a few of what various individuals have had to silently suffer. What was the straw that broke the camel’s back for America? What was the final toll that marked the need for a people to say we no longer acknowledge an authority that no longer allows individual freedom? Since I was not there, physically, I can only imagine what stoked the fires of civil unrest until finally the cry of the masses reached the ears of those leading. In today's current climate I shudder to think what type of events would be necessary to cause another monumental shift and I pray that it does not take more bloodshed.

Tolerance…the very principle our forefathers stood on now has a foot on the necks of many, figuratively and not too far from literally, either. That same tolerance allows others to push the envelope freely with little regard for consequence. At times throughout my life, I have seen how certain behaviors from certain individuals have been tolerated, however, if I or someone who resembles me commits a crime, the consequences have been far more severe. Why is it when I get upset the first thing I am told is to "calm down", but if another young man who has exhibited grossly aggressive behavior is confronted he is asked, not told? At this age I am faced with the hard truth that in many circles even today, the color of my skin is the main determinant on the amount of dignity I am afforded. Furthermore, I can't help but notice the lack of assistance for the husband/father to stay in the home depending on his socio-economic status, his work history, etc. Some may say that is only fair, and in most instances, I would agree with you, however for people of color the system has not been playing fair. It has not been fair when fathers, uncles, brothers, mothers, and daughters are incarcerated, prematurely condemned and in worst cases murdered. It is also not ok to give all accommodations to mothers, girlfriends, and wives, so long as they agree to keep men out of the home and are reasonably compliant. Then the rebuttal is that people of color inflict these same wounds on one another and although the statement does seem to have some validity, there still seems to be a barb of hate hiding behind the promotion of “virtue”. I personally have fought to not slide into disillusionment from noticing that when certain individuals attempt to open their voice to speak out, they are instantly dismissed or if defiant, they are pushed into humiliation even by members of their own community. I wonder how this could become a norm. To this day I struggle with the desire to want to speak out but not feeling completely comfortable in doing so depending upon the topic or setting.

I am grateful that parts of my story are not as mournful as some. I have lived to reach over forty years of age while so many from my generation haven't. In spite of my own mistakes, I am proud to say I have escaped from being considered a mere number in a criminal justice system that so many have felt there is no way out of, yet I still face my share of challenges. If one is lucky enough to escape, the odds are unbearably stacked higher in opposition to the opportunities. I do believe it is worth looking at the odds to get a more accurate picture. According to an article by Spencer Rich via the Washington post in 1982, one of five children under 18 in America lived in a one-parent home, and for blacks the proportion was one in two. The article goes on to state how drastic an increase that was when compared to 1960 where 75 percent of black children lived in two-parent homes. I would like to discuss how this statistic has lasting effects economically and leads to other problems down the road. Lack of both parents in the home first takes a toll psychologically. Imagine being a young man who is having to learn the definition of manhood by anyone and or everyone except his own biological father. Lack of a “father” or father figure then increases the chances of finding the wrong individuals to look up to. If by the grace of God that young man has been able to escape the lure of gangs and not become a victim of inner-city violence, he is left to weigh what tools he has been afforded. This is initially dependent upon the environment in which he was raised and the example of parenthood he was shown. For many the television and music become the greatest influences in their upbringing. When reviewing the music, it is easy to see how it has slidden further into the promotion of goals and aims that glorify materialism over manners. Many of the television shows have also gradually steered away from traditional family values such as honor and respect as well. For others, if there is not a great aptitude in athletics, their chances of success are dependent upon their education, which for countless inner-city youth is nearly the equivalent of clinging desperately to a strand of grass while dangling from a perilous ledge.

What is the point you ask? The point is simple. While there are more opportunities than ever before to pull one's self out of negative situations, it is often times harder to reach those same opportunities unlesss one is a member of a priviledged class. Lack of knowledge, lack of support and even worse, lack of encouragement have a detrimental impact on how far in life one can really go. I believe that at this time in our nation it is important to consider these concerns if there will be any hope of truly making America the land of the free and home of the brave instead of a by-line in the annals of history as a country that never reached its greatest achievements or potential due to its failure to consider all people within its borders as vital to and for the betterment of all.