In his epic work, The Souls of Black Folk, W.E.B. DuBois describes the status of Black folks in the following manner.
One ever feels his twoness,—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.
The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife,—this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self. In this merging he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost. He would not Africanize America, for America has too much to teach the world and Africa. He would not bleach his Negro soul in a flood of white Americanism, for he knows that Negro blood has a message for the world. He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face.
Although written more than a century ago, DuBois’ words still represent Blacks’ plight with marksman’s accuracy.
Moments such as 9/11 serve as a reminder to Blacks that our ancestor’s labor brute, brawn, and ingenuity are cheapened, if not denied, by those who most benefit from their contributions. If I did not know any better, I could be convinced that the advancement of Blacks in this nation hinges upon one’s willingness to deny one of this nation’s grandest traditions, racism.
Americans old enough to remember September 11, 2001, can tell you where they were when the terrorist attack occurred. I was asleep when it happened, having fallen asleep after writing all night on my Doctoral Dissertation. My peaceful slumber was interrupted by a phone call from my best friend, Damon Thomas, a schoolteacher who lived in Harlem and worked in Manhattan. Since my phone rarely rings, a status that reflects my interest in the lives of others and the world around me, I stirred from my slumber, placed the dreaded device next to my ear, and heard the following.
So, whose ass do we have to kick?
I am sure that you understand my shock at hearing such somber words. My mind and emotions instantaneously went to questioning which of our loved ones had been unwilling victims of some unrighteous attack that must be avenged.
Little did I know that this brother, who I had seen transform from a relatively loose association with The Nation of Gods and Earths to a schoolteacher at an elite private Jewish school, was referencing the less than two hours old attack upon his city, borough, and country. The attacks on September 11, 2001, activated something inside of my best friend. This instantaneous desire to stand for country was nothing new; Blacks had experienced it before this nation’s founding and every moment of crisis after its creation.
Despite other’s foolish attempts to deny Black patriotism, the historical record proves that no other group has been more prepared to place their grievances on the back burner for the sake of the country than Blacks. An argument could be made that Black folks are the most patriotic, especially considering the sparse rewards for serving this nation.
So, on this day of remembrance for the lives lost and changed forever due to the events of September 11, 2001, I hope that we can pause the in-fighting and realize that in the grand scheme of things, we are all in the same boat. Unfortunately, there appear to be segments of our citizenry and political class willing to cut off their nose to spite their face by denigrating others in their pursuit of money and political power. Until such people learn that we are inextricably tied together, they will continue pushing others they disagree with off the ship we are all traveling on.
Maybe the day will come when Americans are so enraged by the ill-treatment of their fellow citizens, regardless of their color, that they will stand against those evildoers by asking their victims, “Whose ass do we have to go kick?” One thing is sure: we are nowhere near that point right now.
We can always achieve such things in the future.
Dr. James Thomas Jones III
© Manhood, Race, and Culture 2024.