Introduction – Living the Dream
With the 2018 mid-term elections behind us and several races yet to be decided, including the history making senatorial race between two women in the state of Arizona, I think about why these races are so important to me. I am a Black woman in a “red” state, parent to two beautiful children, and two adorable grandchildren. I wake up every morning thankful that I am blessed with a home, a career, a supportive family, and awesome friends, which all sounds good until I turn on the news, inviting a harsh outside world to taint my joy on a daily basis.
You see, my entire life I have had this Dream that “all” people in the world would see me as a productive, hard-working citizen of the world and accept me without condition. Instead, I am seen for my race first and my gender second. I am a Black woman who has consistently been under-compensated compared to my male peers in the workplace, failing to secure promotions that I’ve worked hard to earn, based on my contributions and qualifications. I hold a graduate degree and am a certified public accountant with years of experience but often feel overlooked and under-appreciated for being innovative, focused, and a team builder. I work hard, often striving for the unreachable perfection that will score me recognition and reward, to the detriment of my health.
When I am in stores I am followed by the loss prevention staff to ensure I do not steal from the store instead of being followed by sales staff excited to help me select items for purchase, since I am financially able to purchase what I need and also a bit of what I want. I once went to a Christian Louboutin store in Las Vegas to purchase a pair of shoes I wanted and was held under the watchful eye of the two sales associates instead of assisted to purchase the shoes I had selected. They literally stood behind the register unwilling to inquire if I required assistance with the shoe in my hand. You know I will never purchase his shoes now.
The rhetoric that is spouted by President Trump seems to be fueling much of the division in our country today by referring to brown people as animals or even describing countries filled with brown people as “shithole” countries. The last two years, my dream has been under attack, driving me to explore what others consider their dream. During a class at ASU, Writing on Social Issues, my search lead me to read “Between the World and Me” (Coates, 2015) in hopes of finding answers and tools to deal with my frustration and disillusionment. I also recalled a conversation with my Aunt Pat, a Freedom Rider, to ponder on her experiences during the turbulent Civil Rights struggle, which the generations that followed have taken for granted in my opinion.
Part One: How Our Dream is Different
If one defines the Dream as the freedom to pursue economic wealth, to move freely throughout the world without risk of suffering from hate derived bodily injury, and to love the person of your choice openly, then Black citizens are at a distinct disadvantage according to Ta-Nehisi Coates. Coates (2015) states “My great error was not that I had accepted someone else’s dream but that I had accepted the facts of dreams, the need for escape, and the invention of racecraft. (p. 56). In his conveyance of the story regarding the falsehood of race to his son, which has been used to classify human beings into lesser categories, Coates defines the Dream as that which precipitated atrocities like the slave trade, segregation, enactment of laws that made it illegal to marry outside one’s race, and encouraged the senseless killing of “Black” citizens by those tasked with ensuring their safety. He warns his son about the reduction of individuals into objects for manipulation by others for financial gain. His writings imply that our nation has benefited from this artificial classification of its citizens by race and that the dream is predicated on the construct of race. Resulting from this division by race is the onerous burden placed on the back of “Black” men and women according to Coates. In particular, the need to be more cautious in executing the duties of daily living for fear of being violently assaulted or killed by those trapped in the pursuit of the Dream (also a false construct of man). Through his writing Coates educates his son about this reality of life as a “Black” man.
I relate to the following by Coates (2015) “I have raised you to respect every human being as singular, and you must extend that same respect into the past” (pg. 69). As the parent of a young Black man myself, I raised my son to believe that all people are valuable, worthy of respect, and that we all have the capacity to contribute to the greater good of mankind in spite of the color of our skin and in spite of our origins. Like Coates, it was also my responsibility to educate my son on the reality that my teachings reflect what I believe to be an ideal way to approach life, but the reality is, he must be aware of the power of racism and hatred, power that could eliminate him from the face of this earth simply because he was born brown. I had to educated him on the fact that in spite of his accomplishments and intelligence there are some who view him as less than, because he was born brown. Like Coates, I do not want to hinder my son’s search for his truth and encourage my son to find his path in this world. But I do so reluctantly, since it means releasing him into a world that is not as safe for him as it is for his Caucasian counterparts. I want the world to see me and my children for who we are at our core (something within our sphere of control) versus who we are on the surface (out of our control), what the world sees at “Black”. I harbor the same concerns for my daughter who has to endure being disrespected by men in the workplace, which includes having her peers take credit for work she generated of being called out of her name. When both of my children walk out the door each day, I pray for their safety and that they will be respected for their intelligence, grace, and contributions to our country.
I worry that being productive citizens is not enough because of the example of Prince Jones shared by Coates (2015). Coates’ recounted the tragic story of Prince Jones who was killed by a Black Prince Georges County Maryland police officer who followed Mr. Jones outside of his jurisdiction on suspicion that he committed a crime. It made me cringe to think that Black men are being enlisted to kill Black men in the name of law enforcement. An upstanding citizen was killed just steps away from the safety of his home, an atrocious example of what our county has become. Prince Jones was hunted like an animal, his educational successes meaningless, the standing of his successful family unlike his White contemporaries, held no power in protecting Jones from senseless slaughter. Coates’ book was illuminating and a good read for anyone interested in the powerful effect of Race in our culture.
Part two: Disparity in Experiencing the Dream
It does not take much effort for me to identify disparities in the experience of the Dream because on May 23, 2017, I visited the National Center for Civil and Human Rights in Atlanta, Georgia and was stopped in my tracks as I entered the Freedom Riders exhibit. The wall in front of me was filled with police mugshots of Freedom Riders arrested in 1961 for daring to ride across state lines in an effort to protest continued segregation of interstate transportation and depots in the southern states, which was outlawed by the federal government in 1960. As I approached the wall one face looked familiar to me, it was my Aunt Patricia (Baskerville) Dilworth. She was arrested on July 9, 1961, in Jackson, Mississippi for getting off the bus and using the bathroom designated for “whites” only. Until that moment I was unaware that my aunt had been arrested for simply using public facilities designated for only a portion of the population. Actually, as an adult I learned she rode for my freedom, but took for granted her sacrifice until I visited that exhibit and witnessed videos of the violence endured by the Freedom Riders. Taunting at lunch counters, buses being attacked and fire-bombed, and the physical beatings by law enforcement. My stomached turned to witness the archival films in the exhibit, while teens visiting the museum frolicked, not understanding the gravity of our current times or the historical sacrifices made on their behalf by people like my Aunt Pat.
In July 2017, I conducted a video interview with my Aunt Pat who spent several weeks in prison in Parchman Farm Mississippi State Penitentiary, in the section of the facility designated as death row. Aunt Pat recounted her experience of traveling north (Illinois) to be trained for several weeks by the Congress of Racial Equality in non-violent tactics, like sitting through physical and verbal abuse. Following her training she boarded a bus to Jackson. She recounted, “When we arrived in Jackson, I had to use the bathroom so bad that I went into the restroom not paying attention to the fact that it was designated as a “whites” only bathroom. As soon as I walked out I was immediately arrested.” She shared her experience of being taken to the prison instead of the jail because it was too full. After more than six weeks in unsanitary and inhumane conditions she was released to be treated medically for malnourishment. It turns out the prison was ill-equipped to handled so many “prisoners”. My aunt was fed spoiled food unfit for animals and not kept properly sheltered. I asked her why she became a Freedom Rider. She expressed her discontent with being a tax-paying citizen in a country where she was prohibited from moving about freely, suffered from segregation, was and subjected to hate on a regular basis. A similar sentiment now being expressed in 2018, I am ashamed to admit.
Conclusion
Today, all citizens are technically still legally free to enjoy unhindered transport via public means. According to Smith-Holmes (2009) the actions of the Freedom Riders from May 1961 to November 1961 eventually resulted in stiffer federal penalties for failure to desegregate interstate transportation in the deep south and because of their actions “the “white” and “colored” signs in bus stations across the South began to come down.” (¶. 19) I am eternally grateful for the sacrifices made by people like my Aunt Pat but at the same time feel ashamed that my generation stopped fighting because we have now lost basic privileges to move freely through life without being subjected to police intervention.
In 2018, we are being detained for sleeping during a study break in the common areas of our dorms. We are being accosted for entering our apartment buildings, for barbequing in a public park, or for sitting in public restaurants to conduct business. Does this mean that the Dream truly is not real? Or does it mean that we as “World Citizens” need to do more to speak up when witnessing the atrocities of our current administration and say NOT ON OUR WATCH! We have to stand up for our rights and those of future generations. Citizens of all colors deserve to live without fear in a world we each worked hard to create. We owe it to ourselves to figure this out quickly. We must run for national and local offices to be heard and seen. The mid-term elections are an example of how being empowered and how engaged citizenry can lead to change. In the 2018 class, we expect that a record 123 women will serve in Congress, nearly 1/3 of the House of Representatives! I think we need to envision what the new Dream looks like and go for it, there is much to lose if we do not.
Reference:
Coates, T, (2015). Between the World and Me. New York: Spiegel & Grau.
Smith-Holmes, M (2009). The Freedom Riders, Then and Now, Smithsonian Magazine retrieved October 28, 2017, from https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-freedom-riders-then-and-now-45351758/