Colored Scholars

The term "Be a man" is a confusing one.

There are many reasons to do away with such a term altogether, especially in a time where woman and man are not our sole acknowledged identifiers but let's leave that discussion for another time.

Imagine being a 4 year old boy who skins his knee on the concrete during recess.  You begin crying from the pain.  The first words you hear in between your break from continuous streams of tears is:

"Be a man"

I remember hearing that term as a young boy and I remember making up my own definition of what being a man was in my head.  Fortunately, I had great role models in my life that exemplified characteristics of manhood that I still believe in today.  However, many young boys are not as fortunate as I was.

Now, imagine being 4 years old and trying to develop your own definition of what being a man entails.  You're not going to ask anyone because everyone seems to know what it means (though unbeknownst to you, none of their definitions are the same).  You don't know many men so you'll likely create a portrait of a man from t.v., movies, sports and music.  You'll ingrain these thoughts about manhood into your life and whenever you hear "Be a man", you'll strive towards those fetishsized perceptions that you developed at such a young age.

The simple phrase 'Be a man' could be fine if accompanied with what that means and why being a man is so important in the moment.  If the reason to be a man is 'Men don't cry', that is unacceptable. But if the reason to be a man is 'To take responsibility for your actions', I see the usefulness here in a young man's development.  (A man is no more likely to take responsibility for their actions than a woman, however an important role in being a man, or rather in being a human, is to be responsible.)

I'm excited for this film and the conversations that will come from it.

Last night, the city of Lawrence voted to oust its first Latino Mayor ever, Willie Lantigua. Interestingly enough, it was in favor of its second Latino Mayor, Dan Rivera.

I've met Willie and he's a good guy, but has gotten a terrible reputation for being "crooked and corrupt" leader of a "damned" city. The funny thing is that Lantigua was never found guilty of the alleged crimes he committed. It seems like Lantigua did a lot for the city but may have kept it too real in the streets, such as fraternizing with citizens in clubs, since, you know, politicians shouldn't be sociable.

I actually don't know Rivera at all but he seems to have the overwhelming support of the people in my age bracket. If he actually does get to become the new mayor (the win margin was 60 votes), I wish him the best. If he conducts himself in the right manner and goes about completing the promises he made, he can do well for the city.

Part of my interest of the whole process will be in the perception of Dan Rivera. Lantigua has always been described poorly in the media and younger citizens, but Rivera has been received as a "good" man with a "good" heart who will do "good." All of this has been in comparison to Lantigua, so I am hoping the terms used to describe him continue months into his administration. My gut feeling tells me that soon enough we will get people asking for Rivera's head and describing him in a similar manner as Lantigua. Not because of his actions or his words, but because he is a Latino leading the city of Lawrence. I think Mos Def could summarize it best, "When white boys doing it well, it's SUCCESS / When I start doing it, well, it's SUSPECT."

Been a hard morning. Last night I was with friends, discussing the meaning of the Zimmerman acquittal with heavy hearts and rage before a Saturday night out. I tried to stay level headed, and keep my friends the same. "You can't be surprised. This is just the status quo. Don't generalize. You can't live your life harboring anger," I said.

But this morning...

After reading the status updates on facebook, it was hard to hold back the tears. My bhuddist-influenced, carefree attitude left and gave way to a grave sadness that deepened as I read and continued, for hours, to barrage my soul with reminders of how messed up a country we live in. If any of you reading think justice was served here, that race was not an influence in this trial or the event being tried, that we live in a post-racial society; man, just sit down and shut the hell up.

Listen.

One lesson that we are forced to learn as we grow up is that we are always wrong. No matter how right we might think we are, we are always wrong when someone challenges us on our ideals. Truth is relative, and until you attempt to see the world by stepping into someone else's shoes, you will forever remain ignorant.

It is hard to have faith in others when prejudices cloud your judgment. But one thing remains true, and must be true if we are to believe that progress awaits us on this earth: we all come from the same stock. We are all human, and we have made it this far on the evolutionary ladder because we have the same needs. We need to challenge ourselves to believe in one another. And in order to do that, we need to challenge and believe in ourselves.

It became glaringly obvious to me last night that, as much as we might try to ignore, deny, or conceal them; there exists severe, ugly prejudices in every single one of us. And they will remain there, continually influencing our psyche and our decisions, until we confront and destroy them. 

Perhaps instead of trying to find blame in others and find external solutions, we can all decide to make ourselves the solution. If the world were just filled with better people.. I mean, just imagine that. It may sound idealistic, but how truly simple is it to recognize that the greatest responsibility you have is to yourself? EVERYone can do that.

Hoards of Twitter users poured out their own emotions surrounding the not guilty verdict handed down to George Zimmerman yesterday.  Many of these comments contained hashtags like #nojusticenopeace or #prayfortrayvon or, disturbingly, #notaboutrace

https://twitter.com/CassidyNord/statuses/356441326675443712

https://twitter.com/reggiemo12/statuses/356135650996662272

https://twitter.com/Samanthaaaaaxxo/statuses/356251179858137089

https://twitter.com/Christian_ladys/statuses/356247011378462721

The Trayvon Martin case is about race.  It's about race because it has got all of America talking about how it is or isn't about race!  The concept of race is just that, a concept.  Race is not like math where 1+1 always equals 2; race is about what each individual person thinks 1+1 equals whatever they want it to equal.  We all have different thoughts on race. Just because one of us "doesn't see color" or acknowledges the immaturely named concept of "post-racial America" does not mean that race is a non-issue.

Race is a social construct that people created to prove that they are better than others due to where they are born and what they look like.  Since we use the color of one's skin to inaccurately assume someone's race, race is often the first thing we see.

The reason this case is about race is because when George Zimmerman looked outside and saw a "suspicious" young man in a hoodie walking around his neighborhood, he saw a black boy.  Race and our perception of it clouds our judgements so much sometimes that we make rash decisions, like for example, following and killing a "suspicious" looking black boy because we think we are protecting our neighborhood.

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Many rappers and hip hop heads have shared their thoughts on Twitter.  These are the most interesting to me because most of their thoughts display contempt for the system and acceptance.

Ace Hood tried to leverage with those concerned too much about the race aspect:

 https://twitter.com/Acehood/statuses/356249264688603136

  Pusha T became a hashtag #activist:

https://twitter.com/PUSHA_T/statuses/356235966039588865

  Scarface shared his bold conspiracy theory: 

https://twitter.com/BrotherMob/statuses/356234319565565953

and Freddie Gibbs keeps it real:

https://twitter.com/FreddieGibbs/statuses/356239202855297024

It would be awesome if some from within the hip hop community would be more proactive in their disgust.  They will have armies of activists waiting within their fan bases.

Kanye West. Love him or hate him, you have to talk about him. And with his new record “Yeezus” debuting next week, he’s bound to polarize you/us/the world even more. But more importantly, what happens when you combine an awesome Kanye New York Times interview, a perpetual hater of all things post-2004, and a non-committal (ir)rational thinker, you get this beautiful truth of an awesome GChat exchange. You probably won’t read it, but we’re putting it out anyway. Because we’re narcissists. And we don’t care. Sorry. But we’re actually not sorry. So take that. Bye.

Mambo: What direction do you see Yeezus taking?

Deemars: I honestly don’t know what to expect with this album. We haven’t really heard much, outside of those two SNL songs. But, like all Kanye, I'm expecting something epic.

M: Speaking of SNL, what did you think of those two songs? I loved “New Slaves” but I honestly felt that the first one (“Black Skinhead” I assume?) was the worst Kanye song I had ever heard. But I was told I can’t be taken seriously when I go to such extremes so what do I know.

D: Whoever said that was telling the truth.

M: It was a wonderful woman with thoughtful intellect and beauty to match (who will most likely read this). Hi.

D: I liked the songs though. I like how he’s pushing the envelope, how he’s trying something different and is not afraid to be unabashedly him, which is, you know, “I don’t really care.” I’m just not sure if I want this type of social commentary, or anti-establishment, coming from his music.

M: You know, he’s known for pushing boundaries and I always admired that about him. But to be honest, there’s something to be said about presentation (which he has excelled at throughout his career). No matter how great your message may be or how substantial the content, if you don’t present it effectively, you will lose your audience (shoutout to Lupe). To me, that’s what happened with “Black Skinhead.”

D: I feel you. And this new sound is just so different than what he’s presented to us before. And the marketing around this new record is nothing we’ve seen before, which also, I think, contributes to our collective “Huh?!” with his new sound. WHO ELSE HAS LISTENING PARTIES IN NYC WAREHOUSES AND PROJECTS NEW RECORDS ACROSS THE WORLD ON DIFFERENT BUILDINGS?

M: I’m glad you mentioned that, because I feel like Kanye definitely doesn’t get enough credit for the ways in which he packages and releases new music, kind of like the hip-hop version of Apple (anyone who ever purchased one of their products will get the reference). He cares as much about how/when you receive his new music as much as the actual music he creates. As I perceive it, he wants every part of the record to be an experience. I can dig that.

D: So what does Kanye mean to our culture now?

M: Kanye represents a schism in the Hip-Hop timeline. He tends to generate extremes: you either love him or you hate him, rarely is there an in-between. That kind of polarity definitely leads to some colorful conversations. There’s always some sort of passionate discussion when people bring him up, and I think that’s something he aims for purposefully.

D: We need artists to push those boundaries to get the culture to think differently. Like when Kanye exclaimed that “George Bush doesn’t care about black people.”

M: Which was gangster as fuck. And completely true.

D: You may or may not have thought that was actually true, but at the end of the day, you started to think and question and examine if there was any truth to what Kanye was saying. I’m all about tact, and I might not have said it there. But when is there ever a good time to say something as controversial and/or thought-provoking as that?

M: So is that kind of examination what makes an artist great? What do you think is the difference between Kanye and say Lupe Fiasco, where so many people feel Lupe has failed?

D: Oh Mr. Lupe… I think in his case, he’s trying really hard to be this counter-culture intellectual, but it’s not working.

M: Isn’t Kanye a counter-culture intellectual though? How does he do it successfully?

D: Because Kanye says some real stuff with truth to it that resonates with his audience. Look at Katrina. Poor people of color were being left behind, so his comments made sense. Lupe, talking about not voting, that makes no sense. He’s like one of those people hollering “F the System” but can’t articulate what the system is and what exactly about that system he doesn’t like.

M: Oh ok, so there’s something to be said for properly articulating your message to the people you want to reach. I find this particular comparison interesting (besides the fact that they are both rappers from Chicago), because I was a huge Lupe supporter until Lasers. After that, he lost me. Exactly how I felt at the time of the release of Lasers is how I am feeling about Yeezus. Which is not a compliment (although Kanye has earned more leeway).

D: Don’t be afraid to grow with me and Kanye. It’s ok. I just love how he’s pushing the envelope right now. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy did that. Watch The Throne did that. This album is going to be something so different and transcendent. I’m excited. It’s going to be pure awesomeness. And truthful. But, most importantly, very awesome.

M: Do you think it will actually be transcendent though? I feel like it will try to be (in a forced way) but will ultimately fail in its attempt. Kind of like what Justin Timberlake was trying to do with 20/20 (with increased focus on the music and less on the singing), a project that fell short of its goal.

D: I see what you mean. Sometimes I feel we have to digest something for a while to really appreciate – or appropriately criticize – a musical work.

M: That’s my worry at least. I don’t want to ever be disappointed by a Kanye album (I don’t count the travesty that was Cruel Summer). But I’m prepared for exactly that when it comes to this album. And it’s true what you mean about that delayed criticism. I know a lot of folks who are from that school of thought and like to wait before they say how they truly feel about an album. There have been some albums that grew on me months or even years after the fact, but my goal when I look forward to an album is to make the stank face immediately. Like when “We Gon’ Make It” by Jadakiss comes on.

D: Or Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City for me. Or when I listened to Ready To Die as an adult.

M: “The What” is bananas son.

D: YES.

D: But where is new Kanye coming from?

M: That’s a good question, because I would like to know. I want him to break boundaries because it’s a result of his timeless music, not because he went out of his way to do so. I want to listen to Kanye To The… not Daft Kanye. So does it matter to you if he focuses on rap anymore, or as long as he making music it’s all good?

D: Come over to 2013, Anwell, it’s alright.

M: Nunca! 2004 or bust.

D: I think he’s such a genius that he can just make good music (pun intended). I liked 808s a lot, and that sound and subject matter was different. As lovers of rap and Hip-Hop, we want to see our icons concentrate on that. Same thing with Nicki Minaj. I’m not a fan of the pop/crossover stuff she does, but I get it. I want that “Monster” approach, that steal the show with a final verse approach.

M: That Nicki verse was trash but that’s another conversation. I don’t understand the fascination with her on that track. Soon as she comes on, I skip to the next song or just turn off my radio because I would rather listen to the wind. I think Kanye will get more of a pass than other rappers who would try this sort of thing, and that might be a testament to his abilities. But I can tell you this, if Jay-Z did something like this, it would break my heart.

D: I’ve been waiting for the inner-Anwell hater to come out. Here you are.

M: It was only a matter of time. The interwebs can’t hold me back.

D: But Jay-Z is a rapper. I feel like Kanye is a musician so he can experiment a little more, because his thing is his sound, not necessarily his lyrics. Who’s made better music since being in a relationship, Jay or ‘Ye?

M: Jay-Z. But Jay-Z is the undisputed G.O.A.T. So it’s expected. In what order would you rank Kanye’s albums?

D:  In order from best to worst: MBDTF, College Dropout, Graduation, Late Registration, 808s. You?

M: Late Registration then College Dropout in their own separate grouping (miles ahead of his other albums). Followed by Graduation, MBDTF, 808s.

D: Wow. And to think I thought we were getting closer to agreeing on Kanye.

M: Haha. Late Registration is one of the most important and best musical works in any genre in the past 25 years.

D: That’s how I feel about MBDTF.

In our e-mail thread one of the scholars asked the rest of us what a list of our top 10 favorite rap albums ever would look like. Not what we consider the greatest or best or bonafide classics or comparatively speaking to all the music ever made. How I frame the question is like this: If you for some strange ass reason you found yourself on an island, and you have everything you ever need to live a dope life, but you could only listen to 10 albums, what would those albums be?

Honestly, Jay-Z probably makes up 7 of my 10 personal favorite albums but to keep it lively I didn't include any Jay albums on my own list. My question to y'all is, what are your all-time favorite albums? Doesn't necessarily have to be rap per se, just curious to see what are albums that people will never get tired of listening to. 

PS. I will not post my own list unless we get some folks to interact and share their own thoughts. I think if you "ask a question" and just include the list we can publish it. Be brave and no anonymous joints. Peace.

I just finished writing a post on my own blog, and I had some extra thoughts to share (I know, I tend to have too much to say). In writing it, and thinking about the event in question, I was asking myself if I truly feel that I have worked hard in my life. Grit, determination, and motivation seem to be a recurring characteristic among the scholars and I just wanted to throw it out there for the rest of my comrades. Do you feel that you have reached your potential at each waypoint of your life?

What made me think of this was one of my friends from Boys Club, who was spoken about at a celebration of coaching for 50 years. My friend, Junior, played with me on our 8th grade basketball team. He also played with my younger brother, who is 3 years younger than I am. How is this possible? Because he repeated the 8th grade 3 times in order to get accepted into the high school he wanted to go to. He got rejected by this school 3 times, and refused to accept it. Had I been in the same situation, I honestly feel like I would have just taken the L, gone to public school, and do my thing. But Junior was willing to put in a lot more effort than I would have.

I went to prep school, I went to a top 10 liberal arts college, and I went to the 4th ranked law school in the country. Even through all that, I still feel like I haven't accomplished anything and that I could have done more. Is that feeling a good one? Does it mean that I have really high expectations of myself and feel that I could always improve and do better? That I want to continue to push myself to reach even higher levels of success? Or is it an acknowledgement that I really haven't done much up to this point? What do y'all feel like in terms of your own perspectives? Scholar at us.

A recent study by the NYCLU found that the average school safety officer in New York City commits four arrests and issues 7 summonses a day, 95% of the people they arrest and write up are black and Latino, 71% are male (http://www.nyclu.org/node/4385). 

I spent most of last year interning at a high school in the Bronx. I would walk in through the faculty entrance and nod at the ladies covering the entrance. Depending on how awake I was, I might engage in some small talk with the Puerto Rican woman who signs everyone in.   After the first week they stopped searching me and I didn’t have to pass my bag through the X-ray machine. Meanwhile, all the students attending class that day were being patted down and scanned by metal detectors. All their cell phones were confiscated for the day. On the outside of the building locked cages surround all the windows; I don’t know if they’re trying to keep us in or the world out.  

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I want to talk about difference and the experience of that difference. I want you to consider why there’s so few men doing good social justice work. I want to talk about why it can be so hard for men to persist and co-exist in non-profit work. I want you to understand the difference between being represented at the top and struggling towards the bottom. I want to give you some concrete suggestions for how we can go forward. But most of all, I Just want to explain myself and why I do what I do. I don’t have enough words, examples, or time to paint such a broad picture, so I’m going to do as I was taught to explain things. Talk slowly, invite dialogue, and take it on piece by piece. Today’s piece is context

Every time I watch the news I see myself. I see myself getting hand cuffed, I hear bulletins looking for me, I hear about cops shooting me in cold blood. Men who are just like me, who have deep brown skin, who grew up speaking Spanish, who eat breakfast at the bodega, who look me in the eye outside while I’m on my way to work and they’re already there.  I feel like I’m only a few great influences, chance privileges, and cautionary decisions different from them. They’re going to jail or being trapped in cycles of debt and underemployment while I’m going to grad school (a cycle of debt and under-employment in a much different way). I’m climbing the ladder and they’re working in the pit. How can I enjoy my life knowing that my brothers are in chains? I have to work on their behalf, and not out of sense of pity but of solidarity.  Not because the sadness of their situation but because our freedom is intertwined

I’m not a Monk or Martin Luther King, I’m not as radical as Malcolm X, or as smooth as Obama, I’m not famous and although I can write I’m not published. What am I supposed to be? I didn’t grow up with a father, and good male role models were few and far between. I used to wonder, how could I become a good man without a good example? As I got older I realized that I had to become my own example, get to know other’s ideas and mix and match to create my own philosophy. Similarly, I look to history and my peers for material in creating a new example of how to be a man, an ally, and an agent for others while remaining authentic to what feels right to me as a man. 

-Argenys Taveras

I have the honor and privilege of being part of the Colored Scholars.  They call me Deemars.  I stay thugged out in an argyle sweater and very often discuss topics such as race, education, hip hop, black people, the diaspora, etc., while also foolishly posting things here.  My man, Perf, started us off, so here I go next!  Enjoy.

This weekend, I was part of a power circle. Lots of proverbial sea bass was consumed and inspiring conversations were had amongst the group I had the honor of getting to know over the last two days.  Included amongst those in attendance – from the many generations of alumni from my college – were lawyers, researchers, business owners, CEO’s, and educators, just to name a few.  What united us all – and I must admit, my career achievements to date certainly do not warrant my place at the table – was the fact that we are all African-American graduates from the same school.  As we discussed our shared experience of having the dubious distinction of being alums of the same alma mater, what was amazing to me was that our college experiences were as vastly different as our professional endeavors.  My college experience in the 9/11 and “post-racial” Obama era differs drastically from those attending college during the Civil Rights or Reagan eras.  And that is ok.   And I, nor my younger classmates, were judged for this.  But it feels as though sometimes, those from older generations deride those from younger generations simply because our experiences are different.  Cue Harry Belafonte.

For those of you that do not know Harry Belafonte, he is an award-winning actor and civil and human rights activist.  He recently had this to say about two of my favorite people:

“…they have turned their back on social responsibility.  That goes for Jay-Z and Beyoncé, for example. Give me Bruce Springsteen, and now you’re talking. I really think he is black.”

Now before we have a semantic argument about the use of the word “black,” (note: a discussion about the use of this word to describe a white man is not where this is headed) Belafonte is equating the word with social activism and civic responsibility, as it pertains to the Black community.  He is also saying that Bruce Springsteen, by virtue of his music and activism, is more “black” than Jay-Z and Beyoncé, who have an arguably less political angle to their music.  Belafonte is lamenting these two African-American icons for what he sees as a lack of social activism on their parts.  But is this fair to Mr. Carter and Ms. Knowles?  I do not think so.

Harry Belafonte, born in 1927, grew up and was coming of age musically, politically, and socially during the Civil Rights Movement.  In fact, Belafonte used to rub elbows with the ultimate Civil Rights activist, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the man who epitomized social activism as it was defined during this era.  Jay-Z and Beyoncé, on the other hand, came of age in the 90’s (Jay-Z, born: 1969), and 2000’s (Beyoncé, born: 1981), a time when the Civil Rights era was a full generation in the past and where “social activism” looked much different.  For Mr. Belafonte, social activism was marching in the streets and demanding basic civil rights and liberties, because, quite frankly, that is what the time called for.  Today, with racism a little more covert, but no less institutional, social activism for Jay-Z and Beyoncé can be defined…differently.  Jay-Z and Beyoncé have inspired millions of young, African-American children from inner-city communities all across the country to want to become entertainers, exemplars of Black Excellence, business owners (I think Hov has a stadium or something going up, not to mention being the founder of a very small clothing line), authors (didn’t Jay write a book?), etc.  To say that they are not a testament to their communities is completely false.

I go by Perf. A few days ago I posted this piece on my personal Tumblr, unh., in anticipation of beginning this blog with my comrades.  I got excited so I'm reposting it here for the Colored Scholar community.  I hope that anyone who stumbles upon this agrees, disagrees or is otherwise engaged by it.

For the last 7 years, I have found my jobs and my interests in college to be consumed by my desire to foster better learning environments for children.  I've been able to do this through multiple vehicles from tutoring to coaching to researching to advising to being a teacher's assistant.  However it wasn't something that I sat down one day and decided to do.  Rather, one day I looked back at all my interests and connected the dots;  I was addicted to education.  

Unlike your usual addiction, it's pretty healthy.  If working directly with children, which I prefer, you can see your hard work play out each and every day.  It's fun, fulfilling and also challenging.  No day is ever the same and no skill set can ever prepare you enough.

As a young man of color, I have noticed that many of the other men of color that I surround myself with also are just as infatuated with education as I am.  We didn't all grow up together so we were all raised differently and have had many different experiences.  Our college degrees don't show any patterns; I'm talking anywhere from history and government to economics and psychology.

Then why is it that as young men of color we have all independently found our way to education, eager to help mold the next generation?

Well, I think the answer lies with how we perceive people of color are socialized.  What institutions do people of color inhabit?  I can off the top of my head think of church and schools.  Other institutions must admit members or members must have access through legacies (which tend to be based on race and class, especially in a country that's only 40 some odd years out from a civil rights movement). Churches and schools are voluntary and mandatory, respectively.  In order to reach those that look like us, we dedicate ourselves to the institution that guarantees we reach that population; Schools.

I do not speak for all people of color in education, however I do doubt that they would disagree with this notion.  Were we not people of color, we would have a better chance of seeing people who look like us inhabiting other institutions.  Let's considering America's financial institution.  I was considering working in the financial industry after college but as a young black man and a conspiracy theorist, I couldn't see myself being apart of an industry that seemed to care so little about those who looked like me.

To be honest, education in the U.S. isn't perfect either.  However there does seem to be some mechanisms that allow for change.  The fact that there is an ongoing conversation is important and makes me, and I assume others, feel as if we have been presented with an opportunity to somehow help those who look like us.

If we can give opportunities to young people of color to better themselves before they choose to drop out of school, we may be able to experience a world where instead of it being an accomplishment to be a young and successful black male, it is an expectation.