Keepin' It Real
                   ( Have I therefore become your enemy because I tell you the truth?)
                                                                                                                 Gal 4:16



It was Socrates that posed the question, "What is the right way for a man to live?" This is a nation laden with aphorisms and edicts that declare what being an American is.  The Declaration of Independence starts with these hallowed words," When in the course of human events it becomes necessary".  But if I parse together a sentence by borrowing excerpts from the remainder of the first paragraph, it would look like this.  "To assume among the powers of the earth the Laws of Nature and Nature's God a decent respect to the opinions of mankind."

Under the cascading shower of diatribes surrounding the now very conflated event of protest in the NFL, I have simply been wondering, what is an acceptable concourse, narrative, discourse, anthropology for a man of color in the broader context of western civilization; but more specifically in America. The bandwidth for grievance has never been broad.  The two-ness that W.E.B Du Bois speaks about is something that almost makes you feel transgenic, a permutation of two cultures. "It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity."

My first experience of this peculiar sensation was as early as the fourth grade. The elasticity, the subtle nuance and duplicity of metrics for excellence, acceptance and recognition seemed esoteric.  Being an ambivert, I never really cared or explored this dangling participle of our culture.  I was taught to believe in the benefit of a great work ethic, treating people well and the inherent righteousness of the tenets and decrees of American folklore and history.  Even as I began to ask questions about the canned narratives that were an embedded part of all of the school's literature, textbooks and references I was directed to, the volume of the subtext began to get louder.

The only places where a reflection could be found in the expanse of the history of the U.S was on the plantations and the ghettos.  Between those sullied domiciles a smattering of relevance was mentioned in conflicts: Revolutionary War, War of 1812, Civil War, WW I & II et al.  Even the peculiar institution, the nation's Great Sin, as promulgated in history books was bereft of the depravity, savagery and gravitas.  Many of my friends from middle and high school would probably be puzzled after reading up to this point.  Let me be clear, I have never seen the United States through a dystopic lens and declared her an irredeemably racist nation with no redemptive characteristics; pockmarked with incongruity, hypocrisy and the pernicious underpinnings of her colonial progenitor.

But when I had an exchange with a former classmate who asked me why was I posting "so much racial stuff' on my FB page, it reminded me of the veracity of the Du Bois quote.  He took issue with the subject matter I was addressing.  When I cogently explained what my experiences had been in the military,education and financial services, his trite dismissal of the validity of my reality was symptomatic of what under girds the almost radioactive political climate today.  RACISM is this country's dead fly in the apothecary.  The parochial view of far too many Americans is that it is either embellished or the derisive tool of "race baiters,( erbody knows Al and Jesse) malcontents, or those who look for excuses when things don't go their way.  The shutdown, ( in their minds) tangential point is the untenable homicide rate among blacks,( blacks are 8 times more likely to be killed by each other) the peculiar, one-sided reference to black-on-black crime or the fact that 52 percent of all homicides according to FBI statistics are committed by that same people group. "Why aren't you protesting that?  When I take the time to give context (NEVER excuses) by showing the nexus socioeconomically between the past and the present.....again.....deflection or denunciation.

Even when providing statistical abstracts on the disparities in health, housing, incarceration rates, and economics to bolster your case about this yet existent social cancer, there is a collective yawn, side-eye and fade to black. "But Theo, you are a well-educated, successful man who hasn't had any barriers to realizing your potential." Well, you can be truthful but not accurate. The vast majority of successful black folks in this country have probably not had a "Mississippi Burning" experience or the kind of vile overt racist experiences that make your blood boil like a scene from the movie "12 Years a Slave." What will probably surprise you is the sheer volume of what has been termed micro aggressions that most have ignored or subjugated to the category of just an ignorant, uniformed exchange.

In 2017, terms like "Go back to Africa" or "You should be grateful" still drip like the anachronistic meanderings of "good people" from a century ago.  The President of the United States can call the White House a dump and say," the United States has done many bad things in the world" and somehow he is keeping it real. Yet without hesitation had his predecessor said the EXACT same things, many "nice folks" would have unloaded with profanity-laced, racial epithets an order of magnitude we would probably still be counting.  The bad things that America has done to its own citizens and the malignant residue that remains in the form of systemic constructs that still impede, encumber and prohibit is the keepin' it real that no one wants to talk about.  It is still the stain on the flag that seems to be evident only to the people that kneel, stand or sit.

           Silent Manifestos and Careless Whispers

         Thy word have I hidden in my heart that I might not sin against thee  Psalm 119:11

This week's national outrage, yeah we're up from monthly, is a 10-page manifesto by Google engineer James Damore who opines about the biological differences between men and women, among other things, and the unintended consequences of the diversity movement in corporate America.

The inner ballast that for centuries allowed our most specious thoughts, ideations, prejudices and incendiary beliefs to lie dormant in our hearts and minds has forever spilled over its banks.  Like the young lad with his finger in the dike to prevent it from bursting, technology's ubiquitous spillage has become Frankenstenian and Machiavellian.  Our long-held, not so secret ( many of these ideas find themselves embedded in socio-economic policy) beliefs can be found in Google's pending wage discrimination lawsuit and certain sexual harassment litigation to follow.  This revelatory manifesto that is getting surreptitious support from other employees and right of center echo chambers is incongruent with the founders of the company motto: "Don't Be Evil.  

This whole scrum is symptomatic of a larger challenge in our nation's culture.  We are indoctrinated at a very young age to believe and perceive certain things about not just people groups and gender, but capacity to adequately occupy a profession. The demographic that makes up most of what we perceive to be Silicon Valley is either, white, Asian, Asian-Indian and male.......period.  On Wall Street the archetype is white and male. In military and commercial aviation, same thing.  I brought up those particular environments because I have been peripherally involved with all three.  If I asked you the question, what image pops in your head when I list these professions: Software Architect, Urban Planner, Venture Capitalist, Hedge Fund Manager, Commercial Pilot, Fighter Pilot, Cruise ship captain, Silicon Valley maverick, Nobel Laureate, Ambassador to a nation......still thinking about it?

When the population of a workplace is homogeneous, the opinions tend to be as well. Points of access to the ruling class or centers of relevance are only questioned when that homogeneity seems to be disrupted by liberal ideology or if we are honest about perception- victim culture rhetoric. Questionable, if not specious, research from social scientists, biologists, neurologists and others have pedantically sought to justify racial and gender stratification in everything from education, housing to professional endeavors.  Our patrician culture, evolving from Father Knows Best to Modern Family, George Washington as the Father of this nation to the almost radioactive response to the election of this republic's first black President has been a segue to clarion calls of grievance to the crushing of the status quo.

This backlash is not seen as malevolent.  Oh no, like Dr.Samuel A. Cartwright's hypothesized, conjectural mental illness he entitled drapetomania ( a belief that slaves that ran away were mentally unstable) this indignant response to the feminization and browning of corridors of power or centers of relevance is simply believed to be a conservative stand.  After all, Bruce Hornsby was prescient in the lyrics to his hit "The Way It Is" when he wrote", That's just the way it is, some things will never change, that's just the way it is........... aah, ..don't you believe it!

         

                                                           SOMETIMES


Sometimes you need to go where nobody knows your name to get a fresh perspective

Sometimes you need to say hello and give a compliment to a complete stranger for your words
may be the only kind ones they hear that day

Sometimes you need to look out the window of an airliner at 40,000 feet to get a new vantage
 point of how little space we occupy in the world

Sometimes you need to turn up the silence to hear the melody of your heart

Sometimes the rhythm of life will be a dissonant symphony

Sometimes you will discover that without God's peace, having everything you ever wanted is
not enough

Sometimes you will realize that the love of your life, is the love that gives you life

Sometimes it is better to respond with silence

Sometimes you do not need to press send

Sometimes you need to be the one someone else can depend on

Sometimes discomfort is the prerequisite for growth

Sometimes love is all you need

                                                             BALLERS
                                                      (but not shot callers)


This past weekend, HBO ( informally known as the Hell, Bondage, and Oppression channel) according to one of my former pastors, provided a sneak preview weekend for non-subscribers.  I haven't had paid cable subscriptions for almost two decades so the highlights, updates and unfolding drama of popular shows featured in this environment are only learned vicariously.  As a true die-hard fan of the NFL ( not for long), I was curious to find out what all the buzz was concerning the show "Ballers"  starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson as an ex-player now turned financial concierge.  It also features the progeny of my generation's Sidney Poitier, Denzel Washington, who may look like his moms but sounds exactly like his pops.

I have an inordinate amount of love/hate for a league that ostensibly is seen as Beulah Land for hundreds of thousands of young men from hamlets and hoods all over this country.  After reading "League of Denial- The NFL Concussion Crisis" my fomenting disdain can't wait to see the game meander through this potential PR crisis.  I initially struggled with what felt like a moral dilemma.  The NFL, like most male-dominated sports that have machismo as a requisite part of their culture, is under girded by hypersexual, who am I kidding, gauche objectification of women and pornography as part and parcel of its cultural landscape.  "Scrip" clubs, precipitation (makin' it rain), and cursory drug use are as pervasive as team prayers that follow a profanity-laced motivational speech to get everybody jacked up.

Ballers features all of the seedy, salacious, narcissistic, materialistic, hedonism that the league works so diligently to keep under wraps in an effort to protect the brand. While the show at times looked and sounded like an over-the-top hip hop video trying to cram as many scantily-clad thots and f-bombs in a one-minute segment, it was quite transparent in exposing many of the challenges that young men given a king's ransom to play a kid's game face.

Now here's where I digress. ESPN's 30 for 30 did a feature on the 2001 Miami Hurricanes ( that was painful to type).  This team was chock full of NFL-ready players and is widely considered one of the most talented squads to ever suit up in Division 1 football.  Antrel Rolle, the cousin of the player featured in the picture for this blog said something that was both an epiphany and a tragedy.  "Me and my crew out the gate were looking at a 100 mil in contracts" he proudly heralded.  It was at that moment that I wish I had been afforded an opportunity to shift the paradigm of these young men from seeing themselves as 100 million dollar commodities to a consortium of potential ownership and financial leverage.

Ballers, in a most sinewy, profane, and transparent way removes the veneer in which 21-28 year olds have to fight to not only secure their childhood dream, but discern, cut, and limit the parasitic ties of family, friends, financial advisors and all manner of humanity who literally see them as everything from ATMs, seed money for specious investments and baby daddies to secure their future.  In the midst of all that testosterone being sloshed around with a constant enticing, if not toxic, presence of estrogen, fortunes were literally being lost, transferred and forfeited in this Bacchanalian field of dreams.

Where the show really gains traction and credibility is in its sub-narrative of players who find themselves at the crossroads, the back end of their microwave careers, where everything from the new rookie drafted to the non-contract offer lets them know that they are no longer welcome at Disney World. The lights, camera, action and commissioner that welcomed them onto Paradise Island is replaced by the ignominy of a cleaned out locker and a handshake.  The collective income of  the players is about half of the revenue of the league.  Even with that enormous financial leverage, the average player rarely sees himself as anything but an employee of the team.  Myron Rolle took the unusual approach to see the league as a means to an end, a utility, a revenue source to ultimately, conceivably fund his dream of being a neurosurgeon, ironically focusing on the untenable complexity of the human brain.  So many of these men , even with their front-loaded, multi-million dollar pensions don't seem to have much to foster an identity that doesn't involve full gear while passing, catching, running or tackling. The real ballers, the real shot callers are the ones who not only write them checks with a whole lot of zeros, but those who recognize that football is what they do and not who they are.  That way when their services are no longer needed, EVERY ONE gets fired-even Hall-of Famers, they can call the shots in the next phase of their life outside of football.

                                                 
                                          Don't Start Something You Can't Finish
                                                   ( A letter to young men)



I was recently listening to a broadcast featuring a panel of men that I have known for years and deeply respect.  A statement struck me as my car sped down the canopied road I was traveling.  The panelist said, "don't start something you can't finish.'  This phrase can have many applications; business, sports, personal goals and ambitions.  Somehow, in the context of the narrative being discussed on the radio, what came to mind was this phrase seductively pouring from the lips of a woman in response to the not so subtle amorous or sexual advances of a man.

I don't think it unreasonable to assume that as your brain undergoes a chemical bath ( you get all tingley inside as Major Payne would say) to stir arousal and you are hypnotized by the magnificence of the woman you are fixated on- that the idea of fatherhood possibly creeps into that highly sexualized space. The here and now overrules the there and later. Even with your attempt to take precautions by " "wrapping it up" your decision to walk into the valley of the shadow of potential lifelong responsibility still  holds sway.

This act of your will is eternal and indelible. The social debate about when life starts is a wildly swinging pendulum. I will make it simple.  At the moment of conception, someone eternal(their spirit) is formed. Your genetic imprint is embedded into that life and the fate of this encounter, whether it be a one-night stand, a girlfriend or wifey material will change the course of your life.
 We are not taught and it is not widely understood that what a man creates he is required to sustain, provide for, develop. If you "don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind" yet are repelled at the thought of putting a ring on the finger of the woman of your affection or infection- hey, these are the times, you might want to flee the scene of a potential generational crime.

You don't want to aid and abet the possibility of your child not being given everything they need to be all that they were created to be.  Is this hyperbole?  Is this an attempt to make something so simple as smashing, rubbin' her the right way and trusting a big butt and a smile complicated?  I am borrowing from some songs of the 90s that glorified this love em and leave em mindset to illustrate that we have made the pursuit of momentary pleasure without telling the rest of the story a national pastime.  You may say, "pardner', ain't nobody got time for these grandma lectures!  But unlike anything else you invest your resources into; clothes, shoes, a car, a 401k, a home- planting your seed into a woman makes you responsible for a human life-God's highest form of creation.

Unlike all of the inanimate objects I named, all just stuff, that life that you helped ( ain't no more immaculate conceptions) bring forth will require an investment of your time, talent and resources for the rest of your days!  Of all the things men are raised to fantasize about being: superheros, sports stars, secret agent, race car drivers,war hero, I can't recall being a great father ever being part of the list.  The thing is, those other dreams are not necessarily within your control.  Being a great father, making your imprint on eternity, however, is within your grasp.  I realize that some of you reading this find these thoughts strange and completely disconnected from your reality.  Maybe you are the progeny of a man, who like you, was never shown how to be anything more than a sperm donor, a womanizer, or an in-and-out father.  You can break that cycle.  It starts well before you start entertaining the thought of being a husband and father....in that order.  You literally carry a nation inside of you.  Start giving thought to what that actually means.

                                                            MIDDLEHOOD
                                                      ( In the middle of Age)


I'm not sure when I crossed this chronological milestone called middle-age.  It seems to be well removed from the freedom of childhood, the age of discovery that was my 20s and the coming into my own of my 30s.  The middle traditionally connotes being sandwiched by something above and beneath you. Surely we all recognize that we are aging and becoming something, someone, ultimately the person we were meant to be.

For most of us there are external signs of our passages through decades. Our clothing tends to trend with us. Our titles change..some of us recoiling at the first time a kid addresses you as sir. In addition to becoming  Sr. Manager, Chief of this, Director of that, Senior Partner, President or Chairman; you become, Uncle, Godfather and the sweetest of all Daddy. You go from your first car, your first purchased car to mini-van ( NEVER) and perhaps dream car. You transition from a singles apartment to maybe a McMansion with room for your brood, in-laws and friends when they visit.

There are however no territorial markings to say you have officially arrived. Sometimes I feel like I am on a trolley that has a continually shrinking view of Disney World, Universal Studios, my high school, college and the fun destinations of my youth as we continue to what lies ahead. It almost feels forbidden to look back, like Lot's wife, for fear of pointlessly frolicking in the memories of your adolescence and early adulthood.  This trolley is a mixture of the magic school bus and the ferry on the River Styx.  It never reverses but will stop for moments at a time.  I guess it would be stating the obvious to note that there is no steady state here in the land of middle. The advertisements for sports are for the most part as a spectator even though they do feature "senior" Olympics and activities that are not too strenuous.

For the first time, you feel the sandwich.  You surreptitiously become a parent and a caretaker of adults-your kids and your parents. This middle also includes a growing recognition of not only the mortality and growing frailty of the people that brought you into the world, but your own finitude. You want to believe that you still have more than a modicum of the strength, power and physical agility you possessed before the threshold of your transition into middlehood. You are thoroughly convinced that is the case until you play a pickup game of basketball, get coerced into a flag football game or hit the gym with one of your younger colleagues and try to match his activity lift for lift.

And then the next day.......... you are immobile, physically traumatized like Loki after the Hulk smashed him like a rag doll in a dismissive posture of his status as a demigod. The full measure of your status as a middle-aged mortal comes to bare as you gingerly walk in search of your once youthful dignity.  The recovery is gradual, almost mockingly slow so that you are more attentive to your surroundings, almost reflective. It also seemed to be a time to ponder what lies ahead.  Not so much to spoil the beauty of the only eternity we can really process which is the immediacy of now.  But as my journey through middlehood gets me closer to the outskirts of seniorhood, to the extent that the days of my youth start to lose their vividness and fade to black and white, almost archaic, I continue to relish the one sweet spot in this land of in between.

 My relationship with God is bereft of the emerging frailties of my dust-formed body.

 His indwelling Spirit has matured mine to the point that my ability to see His attributes,understand His word,appreciate the splendor of His creation, and recognize His purpose and plan amazes me.

 To see His sovereignty in the lives of people that are marginalized and rejected as I walk through these territories, these hoods, has been the sweetest exchange-His immortality for my brief mortality.   You see, as my eyes require assistance, I see with unfettered clarity through His eyes.  As my body begins to show, as much as I fight it, the evidence of my residence in the middlehood, the influence of His spirit over the past 40 years allows me to face principalities, powers, spiritual wickedness in high places with the fervor of a young David against the giant from Gath known as Goliath.  In my weakness, in my acknowledged limited state, He is made strong.  As the encroachment of my next hood, traditionally filled with rubbing balms, pharmaceuticals and support hosiery, incrementally creeps into my existing space, I honestly don't fret.  As the psalmist said, " yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death"(that is a reality whether you are young or old) I fear not what the future holds because I have been engrafted into the family of the One who holds the future.  Here's to the life in the middle!


 

UNPLUG

Why is it that people doing the most amazing, transformative, mind-blowing things are virtually anonymous? Fame used to have a little meat and bones with it, a pinch of substance.

It was curated by major studios, it was skillfully marketed to create an aura around people who achieved feats that were extraordinary, displayed gifts and talents that were exceptional, rare and even awe-inspiring. It occupied a good portion of the narrow bandwidth in which the white hot light of " stardom" effusively showered its denizens.

Our insatiable ability to be distracted by a phalanx of supposed newsworthy stories ( what does that even mean anymore) is the nadir of our ADD culture. There were 189 trending "stories" on my Yahoo thread falling under 7 categories:
World news ( very broad)
Celebrity ( What is a Blac Chyna?) absolute national obsession with this category
Sports   da-da-dum, da-da-dum (ESPN theme)
Politics
Entertainment
Business
Style

We have dubiously fostered the notion of edutainment as erudition. We have become massive consumers of EVERYTHING connoting pop culture. We can talk at length about the minutia attached to the life of celebutantes, actors, athletes, rappers, singers, and the biggest reality star in this country- one Donald J Trump.

But those blurbs, snippets about business, science, politics, international affairs get scrolled on by. Here is the conundrum, the meat and potatoes, the gluten-free substance that has a material impact on your life is found in the subject matter that will NEVER be click-bait!

The people that are the financial guardians of your investments, pensions, authors of legislative policy and taxation, healthcare, employment projections, infrastructure and real estate are more likely to know what's going on in the Black China Sea than know or care who Blac Chyna is.

This national obsession with mind-numbing entertainment by substituting being well-versed in pop culture versus the germane topics that impact your life is not by accident or coincidental. A low-information population, Jay-Z made a million dollars in a few days on 4:44-adding nam penny to your net worth-is a panacea for plutocrats, kleptocrats and the ruling political class.

We don't desire the meat of cogent information. We continue to feast on the calorie dense, no substance pablum of edutainment while the things that matter most pass on by like the Macy's parade!

Unplug!