Columnist Jamala Rogers
You probably know I would have an “I love being black” button. I’m thinking about wearing it – right next to my “Justice for Reggie” button – until Daphne Jones gets satisfactory resolution to her racist firing.
In a believable-in-Dred-Scott-City incident, Jones was summarily fired for wearing her button in honor of the Dr. King holiday. The button was likened to the Nazi Swastika by the personnel director of Healthcare Strategic Initiatives, Bernard Kindell. Kindell, an African-American, was responding to another employee’s stated offense to the button. That employee’s identity and race are unknown to date.
What is known is that being black in this city is an everyday challenge.
I’m not just talking about a politically conscious, culturally empowered person of African descent. I’m talking about the average black man or woman trying to get through life without too much notice or hassle.
Every day in many ways, both overt and covert, both institutional and informal, people of African descent in this city suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous racism.
This includes the despicable outgrowth of internalized oppression. This occurs when the victims of racism take on the oppressor’s devaluing of their humanity. They parrot and act out that construct of worthlessness not only for themselves but for others in their racial group.
H.K. Edgerton may be a good example of this internalized oppression. A self-proclaimed black Confederate activist, Edgerton is likely to appear on the scene any time he perceives the Confederate flag is being attacked. This happened recently when he came to our area to support a white student at Farmington High School who was suspended for wearing a T-shirt to school with the C-flag on it. Edgerton once said there was a great “love between the African who was here in the Southland and his master.” Yes, he was talking about U.S. slavery.
Black people like Edgerton will not speak out against racism and run interference with others who do.
I don’t know where the button deal will end up, but many may see it as only a minor expression of racial pride.
What about racial discrimination on the job related to hiring, promotions and firing? Or what about getting regularly harassed as you try to do your job (like Fire Chief Sherman George)?
What about not getting the house or apartment of your choice? What about getting stopped in transit or on foot by the police for being black, then getting harassed, beaten or killed? What about getting crappy service or no service in the areas of retail, health care, etc.? What about not getting a bank loan because of the color of your skin?
Then there are the reminders that some folks just don’t want you around, like putting a dead coon on a construction site with black workers or hanging a noose in the basement of the Municipal Court building. And speaking of courts, black folks get more than their fair share of injustice in the form of wrongful convictions, wrongful death sentences, and longer and harsher sentences.
In the context of all the relentless dehumanizing and suppression of our blackness, wearing an “I love being black” button takes on a deeper significance. Its simple message is an inoculation against the regular crushing blows to our very existence to keep us from righteously asserting that we are here to stay in all our glorious blackness. It’s an appropriate message for race-haters of any color.
Take to heart the motivational words of Daphne Jones: “You do not have to be disrespected – period.”