Please join us tonight for an insightful panel discussion with a cross-section of Black America discussing “What does it mean to be a Black man in America Today?”
Tonight’s program promises to be a particularly riveting discussion as it is our initial panel discussion. Please feel free to join us.
Please click on any of the links to join us tonight. The discussion will begin at 7:30 (EST) / 6:30 (CST)
Please view this video and leave a comment regarding how the injustice that Emmett Louis Till experienced is relatable to more recent black deaths.
Please join MRCi (Manhood, Race, and Culture interactive) tonight (October 15, 2020) at 7:30 (EST) — 6:30 pm (CST) for an important program on Mental Health in Black America.
Mental Health practitioner Sister Misty Chanel Pruitt will present via Zoom on Mental Health in the Black Community: Strategies for being Black and Sane While Craziness Swirls Around You. Please join us to learn strategies to keep you sane in the midst of everyday craziness.
The program begins tonight at 7:30 (EST) — 6:30 pm (CST). Please click here to join us.
Although it may be difficult to believe, I have moments where black males of all ages challenge my sanity. Trust me when I say that the words of trusted friend William A. Foster IV’s comment that
The black intellectual is the loneliest person on the planet
resonates within my soul. In this era of “wokeness,” my encounters with black men who prefer to pontificate about irrelevant revisionist history topics instead of developing liberation are increasing.
Experience has taught me that some Black males have doused themselves in outlandish conspiracy theories and revisionist history interpretations informed by nothing more than ridiculous half-baked YouTube and Facebook videos. I have learned that such people prefer unproductive conversations that hide their cowardice behind crazy talk and unrealistic goals. I am convinced that if Frederick Douglass were alive, he would address these loud-mouth phrasemongers with the following admonishment.
It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.
I am confident that not even Frederick Douglass could move such people beyond endless discussions of irrelevant historical facts that hold no potential to liberate blacks.
Such people foolishly believe that their careless talk paints them as a formidable opponent to mighty whites. The alluded to idiocy is an obvious sign of their unwillingness to abandon their rabble-rousing in favor of meaningful politics. I have tired of planting black liberation seeds in barren soil.
It appears as if I am not the only one frustrated with black males’ disengagement with the political arena. As the 2020 election season approaches, the usual groundswell of getting out the Vote is occurring. Predictably, few of these endeavors target black male voters.
My how things have changed
The latest group to address this issue of getting black males to the Poll are exotic dancers. Yes, you read that correctly, a rising tide of exotic dancers are imploring apolitical black men to get their booty to the Poll.
The women behind Get Your Booty to the Poll may be able to reach black men who have ignored standard voter registration drive initiatives. This latest effort to get out the black male vote is innovative, intriguing, and problematic.
Although the Get Your Booty to the Poll effort is notable, it raises troubling questions regarding why some black males are so afraid to confront other groups on the political battlefield? The prophetic words of Fred Hampton, Chairman of the Chicago-branch of the Black Panther Party, should haunt many black males. According to Hampton,
War is nothing but politics with bloodshed, and politics is nothing but war without bloodshed.
I reserve the coward label for extreme circumstances.
How strange would it be if the missing ingredient in getting black males to the Poll is booty cheeks? Most of us could never fathom that instead of political education classes and voter registration drives, our efforts would have been much more productive had we used sultry black women to swing on poles with the words “Vote! Vote!” on their left and right cheeks?
The above leads me to ask the following question.
Have black males fallen into a bottomless abyss of foolishness and political ineptitude?
It is incredibly disappointing that our best hope to grasp the attention of apolitical black males is by writing the word Vote on the booty cheeks of scantily clad strippers. Lord knows that I wish that we weren’t in the midst of such an important political season; however, this moment mandates unprecedented voter turnout for apparent reasons. It appears that the nation’s future direction may be determined by how many black males are coaxed into a voting booth by booty cheeks.
I guess that in the end, a vote is a vote after all.
Dr. James Thomas Jones III
© Manhood, Race, and Culture, 2020.
There is a nearly unavoidable danger that creeps up on us so smoothly that we neither recognize its arrival nor its presence. Yet, each of us is susceptible to this evil and the vast majority of us will fall victim to it. The danger that I am referring to results from spending too much time within a self-advantageous echo chamber that allows for us to make sense of the world.
I must admit to having found a comfortable echo chamber that fits my needs and interests. The foremost by-product of this dilemma has been conclusions regarding how I could best serve emerging generations of Black America.
While reading a recent post by former student Adrienne Cain, I was taken aback that after making a presentation to a group of high school students, many raised questions about a shirt that she strategically chose to wear. Emblazoned across the front of the shirt were the words Prairie View A&M University; Ms. Cain’s alma mater. To Ms. Cain’s surprise and my chagrin, the majority of students sitting in front of her had never heard of Historically Black Colleges and Universities. The cornerstone of the Black middle-class and most reliable path to Black uplift.
In the new millennium, I never thought that the promotion of H.B.C.U.’s would be necessary. Yet, here we are once again. This issue has proven to be so bothersome that I eventually searched my mental Rolodex for an answer to the following question.
When did I learn about H.B.C.U.’s?
Before I can answer the relatively simple question, I must explain a few things about my upbringing. Although I am from the great state of Ohio, a state where two H.B.C.U.’s exist, neither of my parents attended college. I was also not fortunate to have a blood relative who had attended college and was willing to offer any guidance regarding my desire to pursue a secondary education. Put simply; my exposure to secondary education was non-existent.
While my parents were incapable of providing first-hand testimony regarding the collegiate experience, God made provisions in that area.
I was fortunate to have been raised within a community where black teachers eagerly stepped into existing gaps that I and my peers working-class parents could not. A push toward higher-education was such an area. In hindsight, I cannot recall a moment of my K-12 tenure that I did not hear the familiar refrain of “you are going to college” from some Black educator. Ms. Jones, my sixth-grade teacher, took it a step further and refused to grade subpar work. I cringe at the repetitive experience of having ungraded work returned to me adorned with the blazing red words of “This is not college-level work, DO IT AGAIN!!!!!” The reconstruction of my formative educational moments would be woefully incomplete if they did not include Mr. Rick Roberson, the most important influence in my current status.
My response to the above question of “When did I learn about H.B.C.U.’s?” is an unbelievably specific one as I can tell you the exact date and moment that I was exposed to the Black college experience. It was Thursday, September 24th (1987) at 8:30 EST when A Different World debuted. I know that it was a Thursday because The Cosby Show came on every Thursday at 8:00 EST. And of course, it was through that iconic show that droves of Black students such as myself were introduced to fictitious Hillman College and the illustrious H.B.C.U. world.
Although other factors swayed me away from attending an H.B.C.U. during my collegiate years, I often wonder how different my life would have been had I made a different choice. As a professor at Prairie View A & M University, an H.B.C.U., I can now attest to the indispensability of Black Colleges to the development of Black students. From my vantage point, Black Colleges and Universities are the primary sources of racial uplift and hope for the eventual achievement of racial equality.
When one considers the overwhelming influence of media on the minds of our nation, particularly the youth; it may be time for a resurfacing of a Different World. It is imperative that Black students are exposed to every potential avenue of uplift as they navigate a world that may prove less than accommodating to their hope, dreams, and aspirations. Regardless of what many naysayers may think, the H.B.C.U. remains the primary gateway to a different world for poor and working-class Black students.
The time has come that every Black student understands the true meaning behind the words that opened every episode of A Different World.
I know my parents love me,
Stand behind me come what may.
I know now that I’m ready,
Because I finally heard them say
It’s a different world than where you come from.
Here’s a chance to make it,
If we focus on our goals.
If you dish it we can take it,
Just remember you’ve been told
It’s a different world,
It’s a different world,
Than where you come from
Than where you come from
As a professor at Prairie View A&M University, I can attest to the above lyrics and encourage others to learn more about and propagate the H.B.C.U. for future generations. Because it is truly a different world from where you come from.
Dr. James Thomas Jones III
© Manhood, Race, and Culture, 2020.