To my Sandra

I’m married to a Sandra Bland; a black woman: unafraid to speak her mind, unafraid of the consequences. It’s one of the things I love most about her. While I sometimes search for minutes (or hours) for the exact right word to say and the exact right tone to say precisely the right thing, she often lives in the freedom of the moment; espousing quick-witted retorts and barbs before I’ve even had a chance to process. That is part of the beauty of a black woman. What outsiders perceive as “sass” or “having too much mouth”, we appreciate as a survival tactic, a necessity that developed in the task of drawing attention to the mistreatment, often of black men who can be beaten, jailed or killed for just being perceived as a threat. The black woman and her “mouth” have often acted as a shield for us; a protective first layer, sheltering us from the world.

You’ll hear the black mother say to her black son: “get your ass in this house before I come out there and drag it in here for you” (translation: I love you and it's getting dark/unsafe outside and I want you in here safe with me). The black wife snaps to her black husband: “You told me you were gonna be home an hour ago, where the hell are you at?” (translation: I miss you and I was worried when you didn't come home when you said you would). It is but the same roar that a mother bear utters when surrounded by predators as she tries to protect her baby cub. The black mother/wife is the protector often because the black man has been stripped of the ability to be.

            A Sandra Bland has no patience for the wasting of her time. I know because I am married to a Sandra Bland. Between her own job, mothering our children, checking in on the phone with her grandmother/mother, finding my car keys, wallet, left running shoe, flash drive with my latest research paper, making dinner, checking homework, driving the kids to swim practice, making lunches, ironing clothes, giving baths, vacuuming the floor, taking a shower and managing her hair, her time is of the essence. So you’ll have to excuse her, Mr. Officer, if her “attitude” isn’t sunshine and show tunes when she’s pulled over on a bullshit traffic violation in the middle of her busy day. Again, I’m married to a Sandra Bland; she doesn't put up with people who waist her time or treat her beneath her standards, whether they’re wearing a badge or not.

            It has become clear to me over the course of my 30-plus years that I, as a black man, have become a target to some. There is no such thing as a “minor” legal infraction for me. I am well aware that while the law books say that I have the right to ask an officer why I am being detained, the laws of reality tell me to shut my mouth and stay in my place. Historically this is where my Sandra Bland has stood in for me, acting as a mouthpiece because both old Jim Crow and new Jim Crow have rendered me mouthless. But what I had not realized (or maybe more truthfully, had willingly ignored) is that new Jim Crow, just like old Jim Crow doesn't want to hear from Sandra either. The warning signs were quite clear: she is never acknowledged for her intellectual prowess despite the fact that there are more black women enrolled in college today than any other singular group (including white men).  She is called a man for her body (see Serena Williams) despite being the real life African Aphrodite. She is paid nearly the least for her work (far worse than her white counterparts) despite regularly taking on more tasks than others and often being better educated than them. She is labeled as the “welfare queen” eating up hard earned tax dollars despite the fact that middle-aged white women make up a larger percentage of welfare recipients and the fact that black women are the fastest growing group of entrepreneurs in the country.  At the moment when she should be the most revered, the most praised and the most beloved, she is instead the most stripped apart, the most devalued, the most unloved.

            The fallacy of it all is that we, black America, want so desperately to believe in the ideals written in the constitution: that “All Men” (and in turn all women) are created equal. But literally as the ink on the constitution dried, our “forefathers” including Mr. Monticello himself, Thomas Jefferson, violated the words they wrote as he (and men like him) rolled around with the black women they enslaved as their playthings to be discarded when done being of use. This hypocrisy remained during old Jim Crow as black women would be raped, lynched and set a blaze by the local police officers who happened to be dressed in white robes for the local fraternal organization.  Today, “laws” prevent black women from being singled out exclusively for their race, so instead “laws” provide over zealous officers the vague leeway needed to transgress our Sandras legally when their “aggressive tone” offends the saintly ears of those in uniform.  

            For years our Sandras have busted their butts, sometimes single-handedly duct-taping black families together as both poor individual choices and systemic pitfalls sought to keep black men locked away like animals. They have achieved in the face of adversity and have refused to be stepped on along the way. They have in many ways, saved what is left of the black community, even when the community itself has seemingly been seconds away from implosion. It is our responsibility as black men to now return the favor.

            When I married my Sandra, I promised her two things: to provide for her and protect her. That’s it. No big house, no cruises across the Mediterranean. Two simple promises: protect her physically, mentally and spiritually and provide for her physically (house, food etc.) but more importantly mentally and emotionally. I take those two things very seriously and I am willing to sacrifice my body to uphold those vows. This is not some brash act of bravado, some symbolic chest thumping of manhood. It is simply a declaration to any man, uniformed or not, white, black, green or blue, who attempts to violate my Sandra. There will be no need for cameras, no need for depositions. It will not be tolerated. Again, I do not pretend to be a man to strike fear in the hearts of others. I only profess to be a man of my word. I am proud to be married to a Sandra Bland for she is the backbone of my entire existence, her sassy mouth included, and I refuse to let my Sandra(s) continue to be violated. 

The Chicken & The Egg

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should chime in. In many ways I agreed with them both but it was like they weren’t speaking the same language to each other. Here they were, two young, college educated brothers, so busy trying to one up each other with stats and quick retorts, that they couldn't understand that they were fighting two sides of the same battle. One argued that our priority must be in taking back our communities, addressing black on black crime before we could address police brutality. The other, just as eloquently, argued that we had internalized our oppression and that we must hold officers accountable. Could it be that they both were right?

I guess I don't understand those people who say life is black or white: hot or cold. Life to me has always been shades of gray (no pun intended): a series of compromises, a litany of give and take because no one can live completely in their own utopia. So many people desire to go back and rewrite history to fit their own narrative.

In many ways the history of the 1950’s and 1960s struggle for equal rights is repeating itself today. The Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s was successful in large part because of Dr. King’s patience and virtue; his willingness to turn the other cheek and be inclusive of whites as opposed to harboring anger and locking them out. Others say it was the militancy of the Black Power movement that broke down those doors that whites sought to keep locked and demanded that blacks received equal rights. The truth, to me, has always been in the middle. Dr. King was effective in large part because the white public wanted little to do with the black militant alternative and saw King and his approach as a feasible middle ground. But they wouldn't have been willing to listen to King without the threat of X, the Panthers, SNCC (after Stokely Carmichael took power), Dr. Angela Davis and other black power voices demanding change in whatever manner was necessary. But that doesn't necessarily mean that the movement was successful because of militants exclusively either. An entirely militant approach would have most certainly have meant a race war, one in which Black people who made up between 10-15% of the population, would have surely lost. It was King’s dedication to a peaceful reasonable solution and inclusion of white allies that allowed the militants to be able make those demands in the late 1960s. One side of the movement could not have worked without the other side. And yet people still today debate about who was more influential, X or King. It has and always will be a silly debate because they were two sides to the same coin.

           The same holds true today. Those young brothers, so bent on being right, couldn't even see that they were arguing from two sides of the same coin. Yes, black on black crime is a major issue that needs to be addressed from within the black community. We have perpetuated a culture of silence and fear of repercussions for far too long. We must protect each other and build family communities again, instead of ones run by young men and women who only look out for themselves and have no regard for the lives of others. But that doesn't mean that we have to wait and fix that before we can address the increase of police brutality on unarmed black men. Those who take an oath to serve and protect our communities must be held to a higher standard than ordinary citizens and must let the courts dole out justice to those who break the law as opposed to playing judge, jury and far too frequently recently: executioner.  This is not a chicken or an egg debate. We don’t have to choose one fight over the other. We have enough people who are motivated, educated, politically connected and fed up to address both issues at once; not one before the other. 

I know I could never be a political leader because I’m not head strong enough. Even as a teacher I am sometimes corrected by my students because they sometimes make valid arguments that I’ve failed to see.  While I am confident in most aspects of my life, I was blessed to not have an ego that was so big that I can’t even listen to others' point of view. With a family of six, coaching two sports, a full time career and pursing a doctoral degree I don't have the time I’d like to have to march the streets and protest or rally in front of City Hall and demand answers. I sometimes feel guilty about this: that I am not doing enough of my part. But I am reminded of the lyrics of the John Legend/Common song “Glory”. In it, Common raps: “It takes the wisdom of the elders and the young people’s energy”. Not everyone can be Dr. King or Brother X and that’s okay. Behind those two stood the speechwriters, pamphlet makers, donation gatherers, security staff and other everyday people who contributed in their own way to make change. Maybe instead of fighting so hard to just be right, if we took that same energy and joined forces to combat all sides of the issues we face today, we could see that we were really arguing for the same results, just in different ways.