Black Rage 

I normally wouldn't write down these thoughts and only talk candidly to a few friends about how I feel at times. However, no one reads this blog and as one of my former girlfriends used to say "no one cares what you have to say anyway." Thus, I felt it would be okay.

I'll begin with this story...back in 2005 or 2006, I was a professor of economics at the University of Alabama. I've written many times about how I did not like it there, so look back over some of my older blog posts to see why. Well, I was on this committee which was comprised of faculty from all over the campus. I was there representing the business school. As you would expect, the room was mostly full of white people given that we had, and still have, very few black professors at the university. In fact, the only other black faculty member on the committee was Angela who was a professor in the college of education. The meeting was set to begin at 10am and probably around 5 minutes after the hour, we got going. We had been discussing issues for about 25 minutes when there is this loud commotion. Angela had shown up late and instead of sitting down quietly, she was really making a racket as she settled into her seat. After she sat down and disrupted the meeting she didn't apologize. Instead, she announced to the room that black people couldn't be on time and that they knew how it was. To my horror, the white people in the room smiled and agreed with her. I was boiling with rage at what had just happened and spoke up to say that not all black people were habitually late. Angela looked daggers at me and I returned them.

It's been a long time since that incident but I've never forgotten it and the many others just like it. Over the years, I've moved up the ranks in the economics profession and in higher education. So much so that it's not uncommon for me to be the only black person in the room when pretty high-level decisions are being made. Thus, I'm there and see how blacks can be perceived. I'm not there as an assistant or a subordinate but as an equal. What Angela did that day made it much more difficult for me and those black people who I'm in that room advocating for when they aren't there. I'm constantly battling my white colleagues to not confuse me with someone they can step to like I work for them. That is the natural presumption. I'm also battling them to never confuse me with an Angela-type. I'm not going to be late and say that it's a cultural thing that whites have to deal with.

It's often the case that my white colleagues only deal with folks who look like me as employees. Not equals. As such, some of these employees don't give a damn or don't know what their white bosses think. They have limited interaction beyond doing some task and getting a paycheck. I'm then left pissed at everyone. Both white and black people get my wrath.

I want my black brothers and sisters to recognize how their actions reflect on all of us. I simply hate it when I hear or see other blacks using language or acting in a way which will fuel these stereotypes about the race. However, I fully understand that they have no idea what's going on once they leave the room or when they aren't even in the room. What's odd is that I find myself quietly raging that they did this or that in front of white people. Not so much that they did or said it but that they did it where others saw it. I guess I now understand about my mother tearing me up when we got home if I acted a fool out at the grocery store. I also get really angry when they turn on me and say that I'm some type of sell-out or Uncle Tom, when I'm the only one fighting on their behalf. 

I'm also pissed at white people. Who the hell are they to be the judges of how other humans get to live their lives? Who made them the standard bearers of acceptable behavior? In fact, I've seen the same behavior from them and they seem to get a pass. They see me, not doing said behavior and do they say, "well, that's how those folks are...hard working, smart, on time, serious"? No, however, they see Angela coming in late and acting crazy and are quick to ascribe that to all of us. It seems that behavior only goes one way. It really pisses me off and my rage builds. 

And then I'm pissed at myself. Why do I care and why does it make me so angry? I feel I've given my power to these groups and I'm helpless to get it back. Thus, I rage internally as a black man. I must not be too aggressive. However, I better not be too passive. Mostly I seethe and watch blood pressure rise as I have no outlet and no group to relax within.

No wonder the average life expectancy of a black man in the US is shorter than that of a white male, white woman, or black woman.