Why convert the hood to the good?
Or why do people even attempt the impossible?
Is there really such a thing as the Talented Tenth?
Most people who have "made it" seem to think that if everyone followed their example or their way of thinking then everything and everyone would be alright.
But most fail to realize that the paths that led to "success" are many and varied.
That most success stories are filled with as much inspiration, Divine intervention or luck as they are hard work.
That there is no one "right" answer.
But the motivation behind such thinking is usually selfish in it's origin.
Most people who have all the appearances of being on the other side are often sick of being; "The only Black...", "The first Black...", or the "Best Black...".
Most of these people are only seeking some form of familiarity in an unfamiliar environment.
For many, these blogs are the only place where they can openly discuss issues with people who have a similar experience as their own. (Even if their places of origin vary.)
Another difference is that many are discussing problems from a point of view that is beyond that of being aspirational or acquisitive.
Their goal is not to conform nor to fit in to a certain affectational (My word, I don't know the variant of "affectation".) group - but that of getting others into that group.
For many, they have the game figured out.
Their goal is to translate their own success to others who may be seeking the same end.
I (as have many on these blogs) have been the first Black attending, playing, working or having many things.
But that gets old.
I have been hated on by other Blacks for "Selling Out", only to have another more credible brotha' put the haters in their place by explaining that I was breaking new ground for others to follow.
When I was a freshman in high school on the varsity swim and water polo teams, I had to walk past the brotha's as I went through the usual freshman hazing of carrying the teams equipment.
The brotha' running things pointed out that I was shattering stereotypes and that they needed to support my efforts.
I think it was the first time that our school had a mass of Black football and basketball players cheering at the "Whiteboy Sporting Events".
(The brotha who had my back was later repaid years later when his younger brother was caught up in a bad situation that I could handle. Doing the right thing seems to catch up with you.)
I have been called a "Company Man" only to open doors for others who were seeking a position.
I have been called a "Tom" because I developed social relationships with cops who would later handle situations for brotha's who where about to be railroaded.
I have been called a "House Nigga'" because we moved out of the hood to the hills.
I have been called "Soft" only to prove that I also came from the hood.
I have been threatened with being jumped - but that has never happened.
I have as much reason to hate those with less means as does anyone else - but I don't.
How many hoes (I don't mean all women, just the easy ones.) can a man do?
How many homes can one own?
How many cars can one drive?
How many parties can one attend?
How many Valentino suits, Vacheron Constantin watches or Salvatore Ferragamo shoes can one wear?
When has one had enough of the game to realize that winning that game really doesn't matter?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment