Black History Blues

Hello Poor Devils!

Thank you for returning to read my blog! I've gotten a lot of positive feedback as I continue and try to think of topics that will uplift and inspire. If you are new to my blog, welcome! Since we are now in the month of February, I see no reason that my blogs should consist of topics surrounding Black History or Love. Based on the title, you no doubt have already realized that you are now sitting in the metaphorical pulpit of a topic that is near and dear to my heart: Black History Month.

For those who don't know, I double majored in History Education and Theatre when I was in college. I love history. To me, it just comes natural to retain that information and history is quite exciting! I feel learning about history helps me with theatre (where I often due period pieces) as well as shape who I am as a human being. As a black man, I love learning about my own history. I look at my past with pride and a great deal of respect for the men and women who paved the way so that I may be seen not solely as a black man, but a man. In fact, it was black history which inspired me to even begin teaching in the first place!

It was February of 2001. I was in middle school at the time and just starting to discover who I was as a person. I was not the best in school. As a matter of fact, I was down right awful until my 8th grade year when I started to take my studies more seriously. I was in U.S. history at the time and, being February, my teacher, Mr. Fry, decided to dedicate the month to learning about black history. Mr. Fry was a white man, but he knew all there was about black history. I admired his knowledge and I knew that I wanted to show that I knew just as much as him. Mr. Fry began asking a few questions about black history based on the reading we had just done. I immediately raised my hand and promptly answered. Mr. Fry gave me a pat on the back and continued asking questions.

I was on fire. Every question he asked, I had the right answer as well as more insight in the situation. Malcolm X. Rosa Parks. Dr. King. Marcus Garvey. The Birmingham Campaign. The Freedom Riders. I knew it all!

As I answered the questions, I noticed that many of my peers who were, for the most part black, shot me dirty looks. Mr. Fry asked another question and before I could answer, he forbade me from answering anything else. The classroom was silent for a good two minutes before Mr. Fry spoke.

"This is YOUR history," he said. "Do you honestly mean to tell me that Marcus is the only one knows YOUR history?"

As you can see, I've never forgotten those words. In that moment, I too found it pathetic. Here was Mr. Fry, a WHITE man, who knew more about Black History than the future generation! It was on that day, that I decided that on top of acting, I wanted to become a teacher of history and be able to teach black kids our history. During an assignment, I told Mr. Fry what I decided and he was honestly proud. To him, he had reached one of his students and set them on a path that would be the driving force when people tried to bring them down. However, the class heard me. And from that day on, I was the black kid trying to act white.

That's right. You read that correctly. The BLACK kid who wanted to learn more about his history was acting WHITE. Folks, I have heard that phrase my entire life. Most of the time it's because of how I talk. I "talk" like a white guy. My apologies, but that is an insult to all blacks everywhere when you say that I "sound" like a white guy.

"Why", you may ask? Well, let's look at the facts. I don't say anything that is associated with being white because I'm NOT white. I speak properly, yes. I enunciate my words. I like to use more "advanced" words that I have learned to express myself. Is this really sounding white? Or merely speaking with intelligence? I like to think the latter. When I hear what "sounding" black is, it is a wonder that people have not caught on yet to the subtle racism laced in those words. Sounding black would mean that I have to use smaller words, barely understand what I'm saying and essentially have no desire to advance myself in society (oops! Sorry. Used another big word). Have we really done this to ourselves? Have we honestly decided to limit ourselves in the way of education and intelligence? I'm sorry, but I cannot allow myself to speak ignorantly just so I can even be accepted by my own race. I want to be seen as a MAN. Not by the color of my skin. That is not what my forefathers fought for. We claim we want equal rights and yet we want to reinforce the stereotype that we are not intelligent.

Now I know, some people may be getting mad at me for saying that while others may not truly understand where I am coming from. To me? It doesn't matter. I have to say these things, because I need to speak for those blacks who are proud of their heritage and want to see their people do well, but who are put down by both whites who will never see them as equals and blacks who feel they are trying to emulate white culture. The true question here is: what is BLACK CULTURE?

Is it BET?
Is it the Steve Harvey Morning Show?
Is it Black Churches?
Is it Rap Music?
Is it Tyler Perry?
Do we even know anymore?

My belief is that we knew what our culture was, but that has since passed away. We have embraced a culture that is not our own, but one that is commercialized and stereotypical. And the thing is (get ready readers), it is not the white man's fault! That's right! I said it!

Sure, racism played a big part in how we got to this point in our lives. And absolutely yes, racism is STILL a big part of our lives today. But when a child tells their parents that their teacher is a racist because they failed a test that they didn't study for, where is the racism then? Racism is being used as an excuse on why we can't achieve when, in actuality, we can't achieve because we are not choosing to. The sad part of it is this: our children are learning that racism is an excuse when they fail instead of accepting the possibility that maybe they failed that test because they didn't study or they were talking in class. Maybe my middle school peers would have known those questions too had they read the night before. Maybe I wouldn't be seen as an "Uncle Tom" had my peers simply done the assigned reading as I had.

Who knows?

What I do know is this: we, the black community, have got to stop making excuses. We need to accept that our fight for equality is not over yet, but it is a battle that can be won. In my time as an actor, I have played countless roles that were not supposed to be for black men. But I showed my directors that I am just as good if not better than a white actor and that by the time I was done you would not longer see my dark skin. You would see a man full of talent and hope. I have no doubt that I am first judged by the color of my skin, but I do not let me skin color define who I am as a human being. I am Marcus. Nothing more. Nothing less.

When you walk down the street....what do you think people see?