The book got me thinking about a lot of things, but one passage in particular really hit home:
"Nowadays, I cut on the tube and see the dumbfounded looks, when over some minor violation of name and respect, a black boy is found leaking on the street. The anchors shake their heads. The activists give their stupid speeches, praising mythical days when all disputes were handled down at Ray's Gym. Politicians step up to the mic, claim the young have gone mad, their brains infected, and turned superpredator. Fuck you all who've ever spoken so foolishly, who've opened your mouths like we don't know what this is. We have read the books you own, the scorecards you keep -- done the math and emerged prophetic. We know how we will die -- with cousins in double murder suicides, in wars that are mere theory to you, convalescing in hospitals, slowly choked out by angina and cholesterol. We are the walking lowest rung, and all that stands between us and beast, between us and the local zoo, is respect, the respect you take as natural as sugar and shit. We know what we are, that we walk like we are not long for this world, that this world has never longed for us."At this point in the book, Coates was about to be in yet another fight, but would find himself overcome by the urge to fight back, the opposite of the clumsy and often unsuccessful escapes he had attempted in the past.
Growing up, Coates didn't only reject the attractions of the street because he feared them; he simply felt that he wasn't made for that world, and avoided it whenever possible. His father forced him to read as much as possible and kept his schedule full. Coates preferred Dungeons and Dragons to the ebb and flow of turf wars and pushing product. But just like everyone else growing up around him Coates had to maintain the appearance of someone who wasn't soft to prevent unwanted attention. The quote above and the ensuing fight are the first time that Coates really lets his frustration show through the filters he eloquently placed over the rest of the story. Though I grew up far from Coates's neighborhood and never came close to the hardship he experienced, I was able to relate to the feelings Coates laid bare.
I've always striven to help others. I briefly taught in two Baltimore public schools and education is the focus of my current job. I did plenty of service projects in high school and college, many of which brought me face to face with addicts, criminals, or homeless people. Throughout all of these experiences, my parents and teachers constantly reminded me of the importance of empathy. People should be treated with respect. No matter what they look like, which chemicals they lust after, which crimes they've committed, or what kind of environment they live in, people deserve your full attention when they talk to you and eye contact when you interact.
The necessity of that last sentence embarrasses me, but I feel people need to be reminded of that.
Friends and family know that I like to discuss politics, and race relations has always been a point of particular interest to me. Starting in eighth grade, I made a point to become well-versed in the similarities, differences, and connections between the white and black experience in America and today I feel, perhaps incorrectly, that I have a good sense of the troubles that continue to plague those around me.
Unfortunately, unless I'm citing a statistic, I find that using this knowledge often garners skepticism, disdain, or confusion from my audience. People who hear me speak with confidence about "black" things can't seem to wrap their heads around the idea that I'm not an Africana Studies major who wears a dashiki to bed and plays a djembe when nobody's watching. I've all but resigned myself to the fact that using what I know about the black community's ails will most likely never be seen as fully authentic because I'm white, and didn't experience these problems firsthand. I will always be treated as either insincere or trying to "be black." This is where my feelings intersect with Coates's in the quoted passage.
It infuriates me. The complete and total lack of empathy towards people who face the threat of injury or death every day for going about their business. The discussions about them as if they're a dehumanized group of faceless bodies who have chained themselves to the ghettos for the sake of pride. You may hear about what happens in the places you avoid on the news, but you don't know, and most people don't even try to understand. I understand why Coates was so angry.
We may not say it out loud, but Obama's election convinced many of us that, as a country, we are officially beyond racism's evil reach. In a time when racism is becoming a dirty word, fit only for those who wear hoods and burn crosses, it is imperative that anyone with the ability to convey important stories be taken seriously, regardless of their background. We will never be able to pay proper dues for the horrors imposed on the tribes that were here before the Europeans, or the slaves brought here for hundreds of years, but until we empathize with the struggles facing the less fortunate, we will be doomed to pursue a limited national success that, by its nature, prevents many members of our society from sharing in the prosperity.
