Too Black or too bad?

"D.L. Hughley Breaks the News" and David Alan Greer's "Chocolate News" have apparently been cancelled.  Apparently, some wonder if it has to do with them both being Black shows.

Personally, I don't think their shows were too Black for tv.  Based on what I saw, they were too bad for tv.

By the way, that ain't the jiiiiive version of "bad."  It's the literal one.

Flat jokes.  Poor transitions.  Brute-force approach to comedy.  Shallow consideration of the issues.

Of course, that's what I got from watching very little of their shows, but it was enough for me to form my opinion*.  Conan O'Brien was very unpolished in his earliest hosting days, but I found his approach more palatable.  I think that was largely because of his humility and humor.

I don't know if Conan did stand-up, first (I doubt it) but I'd expect Hughley's and Greer's collective decades in front of audiences to count for a heck of a lot more than I saw on the screen.

* - and I fully admit that's all it is - an opinion.

It Ain't Over

The election of a Black President of the United States of America means a great deal to a great many people.

All. Around. the World.

But there's a whole lot it does not mean.

I remember discussions about reparations, some years back, in which some non-Blacks said they were so tired of us (re: Black Americans) griping about race and this country's history of racial injustice that it would be WORTH paying the reparations, to which we are not entitled*, if it meant we were contractually obligated to shut the fugg up about this topic. Forever.

In bringing this up now, I'm not trying to rehash the reparations debate. I'm trying to illustrate just how much people in this country think and have long thought that racial inequality was a thing of the past. Ancient history. A long time, ago.

To those people and and their adjacents, handing Barack Obama the keys to the White House confirms that the USoA is A-ok.

Often, though, these are the same people who see a highly paid Black athlete drive by them in a car that costs more than the observer's home and conclude that clearly every Black person is on equal or better footing with every white person. If the logical flaw in that line of thinking isn't obvious I'm not sure I can illuminate it.

Nevermind the fact that it took until 2009 for a Black person to be elected to this country's highest office.
Pay no attention to the fact that it wasn't until this country is or was on a road to an icy depression - the kind you can't pop a pill for - that this country elected a Black person to the Presidency.
Let's not think about the incredibly cavalier attitude the previous administration has shown toward life (foreign or domestic), law (foreign or domestic), and basic logic over a period of 8 year, that created a climate in which people were finally ready for a change.

One might look at that and consider it a "glass half empty" perspective. After all, if the country was in the midst of such crisis conditions and turned to a Black man, doesn't that say something good about their attitude toward the ability and potential of Blacks?

Maybe.

Sure Obama got 364 electoral votes (potentially 376) to McCain's 162, which sounds like a lot but apparently is not considered an actual blow-out. But consider how much of the popular vote (which, as far as I'm concerned, is the REAL VOTE) he received**: 53%.

As far as I'm concerned, that's a pretty even split. I mean, if you TRIED to cut a pie in half simply by inspection and then had someone do a precise mathematical measurement to determine how close you were, a 53 - 47 split would be pretty impressive. The point is, it's still half, no matter how you slice it.

So basically, we immersed in debt, our businesses are failing, we're embroiled in at least one unnecessary conflict, we're torturing people, we're outing our federal agents, and soiling our international reputation (just off the top of my head)... and we're just about HALF-WAY fed-up with it and ready for a change!

Or the prospect of that change being realized in the form of this Black man was only enough to get HALF of the country to vote for him. In THESE conditions, after the disgusting campaign run by John McCain and Sarah Palin, about half of us are ready to let a Black person lead us to better days.

Except it's still not half because it's not like 100% of registered voters cast their ballot. So, about half of a fraction of the adult citizens of this country voted for a Black man***.

That truly is amazing. And I mean that in every sense of the word.





* - from their perspective
** - assuming the quote from Yahoo! Answers is accurate
*** - or, as some might consider him, a biracial man, raised by a white family

It Has Begun

Barack Obama won the Presidency of the United States of America.

And Florida went Blue*.

I couldn't be happier. Actually, I could. I should have been elated, last night, instead of just happy. I would have been, too, except that I too busy not being heartbroken and depressed. I guess that was my version of exultation because if John McCain had won, I'd have been a blubbering mess.

And then there was the concern that, on one side or the other, unhappy people would do unhappy things to other people. So far, I've seen none of that here... but I worried and wondered, for a while.

I wasn't going to stay up late to see the final result because (and here's another reason for my limited emotional response) we've already seen the networks call one opponent, then reverse it. I wasn't interested in riding that rollercoaster, again.

Anyway, my girlfriend was watching which effectively meant that I was watching. Besides, I was still amped-up from spending most of the day volunteering for the Tallahassee branch of the campaign that erased Senator Obama but gave birth to President-Elect Barack Obama. More on that another time.

When we got the "projected" results, I was still reserved. And it didn't help that CNN apparently kept "projected" up much, much too long. I talked to my grandmother, who voted for the first time that *I've* ever heard of. I talked to my mom, who told me how much it meant for her to risk her life to go to school amidst race riots but grow up to see a Black man gain the keys to the White House. I also talked to my father, who yelled at me and called me someone else's name. But it was meant in love.

I know. I know. Trust me.

Eventually, we took a chance, grabbed the camcorder, and hit the road to see how Tallahassee was reacting to the news.

Dead silence.

Apparently, though, this was just because so many were at the election party. So we headed over there, recorded some speech material, observed the celebration, shed some tears (well, she did anyway), and interviewed some folks to find out how they were feeling and what this moment meant to them.

One thing is represents, to me, is a chance to vote FOR, not just AGAINST someone. As I said... a year and a half, ago... I would be PROUD to have Barack Obama be the President of these United States of America.

It feels like the world started over. Continuity rebooted. We got a green mushroom, an extra life.

Now, let's see how we use it.

It has begun.






* - And Tallahassee did its part.

Too Comfortable

WEST3MAN: I got caught in the rain, today,
WEST3MAN: while biking to the comic shop.
WEST3MAN: I went to a nearby bar to use their restroom's paper towels, to dry off.
WEST3MAN: A guy was already using the dispenser, so I stood behind him and waited.
WEST3MAN: I noticed the back of his black t-shirt
WEST3MAN: had a Confederate flag with "SS" in that special font
WEST3MAN: printed across it.
WEST3MAN: the shirt said something like, "the few and the proud."
WEST3MAN: Just one of those wake-up moments, for me.
WEST3MAN: "Don't get TOO comfortable."

Black Characters in Iron Man

I've been reading and re-reading some old Iron Man issues, lately - especially the ones illustrated by Bob Layton, Iron Man artist extraordinaire. I dig the hell out of that period in Iron Man history for both the stories and the fantastic art.

One reason I'm so fond of Layton's Iron Man days (besides how skillfully he renders the title character) is the fact that this was the first comic book series I ever remember reading that had Black characters that looked Black.

James Rhodes (a.k.a "Rhodey") and his lady friend, Marcy (sp?) were the most consistent examples of this. Rhodey, in-particular, just blew me away because he was a strong-willed, though reasonably flawed, example of an honest and brave Black man in the comic book realm - even if he was "the help" for a long time.

Iron Man #225

That was great, but I also dug - I mean really dug - the fact that Rhodey wasn't just drawn as white man who happened to have brown skin (and curly hair), but as an African-American character. His lips were thicker without venturing into "Ebony territory" and his hair seemed to have been thoughtfully conceived and sculpted into a realistic and then-modern example of the "Negroid" hair-type.

Iron Man #125

The above illustration from Iron Man #125 is a little before my time, to be honest. I wasn't following the comic during the days that afro's were still in-style. (Now that I think about it, though, Black comic book characters have often sported or retained hairstyles and slang well beyond their expiration dates. I guess this is how it goes when you've got Black characters whose words and visages are usually crafted by white creators.)

Iron Man #224

Anyway, I'm enjoying these Iron Man issues for lots of reasons. I just wanted to chat a little about one reason of which I was recently reminded: the positive depiction of Black characters as Black characters (sans white hair, blue eyes, Caucasian facial features, etc.).

In fact, noticing how cool Rhodey seemed, to me, kinda pointed out something I hadn't noticed before - just how rare these types of characters were. In fact, it was right around that time that I realized that I'd never seen Black hair depicted so well (not that it was never done right, but I didn't see very many examples). I also realized that, despite how much I enjoyed drawing, even I didn't draw Black characters very often ... so infrequently, in fact, that when I sat down and tried my hand at it, I realized I had to think very hard about how to draw hair like mine.

That seemed pretty strange to me, at the time, and kinda sad to me, now. Whenever I drew comic book characters, they were white characters with "white" hair, like the blonde-haired (and blue-eyed?) Johnny Storm (a.k.a. "The Human Torch") of the Fantastic Four. John Byrne had a very distinctive way of drawing Johnny's hair and I tried my best to reproduce it every chance I got - so much so that, when the time came, I had no clue how to draw "my own" hair.

I'm not sure what all the implications are of Black kids who only play with white dolls and draw white people and watch tv shows with white characters, but I doubt they're positive.

I'm thankful that there were at least a few opportunities for young Black readers, like my(younger)self, to see reflections of themselves in their entertainment. Bob Layton certainly wasn't the only example, but in my book, he's one of the best.

If only because it was among the very few times this comic book fan has seem Black male characters and Black female characters in a relationships... with each other.

The below isn't the best example (from Iron Man #238) of Layton's work, but, to me, it represents something very positive. Having said that, I should also give props to writer David Michelinie, for even (creating?) using these characters this way.

EDIT: And, according to a buddy, some credit should go to John Byrne for suggesting/deciding that Rhodey should be Black instead of a white guy, as he was reportedly originally conceived. Props, Mr. B.

Iron Man #238

You N-Bomber

No grown person owes me anything - including an explanation of his or her behavior.

But if you expect me to respect you on a certain level, a certain amount of transparency would be helpful.

I just left a chatroom where a(n apparently white) guy who's openly and repeatedly dropped n-bombs, continues to have an audience with the other chatters. When I complain about this, no one has any criticism to offer... except about me.

Meanwhile the n-bomber goes on about how he hasn't called anybody a nigger, TONIGHT, as if that makes all the damned difference in the world.

To be honest, I'm definitely typing this while still emotionally charged and I'm not meticulously laying out all of the details of the situation, but I maintain this the above IS a fair representation of the events.

It reminds me of my previous conversations and posts about how it would be strange for me to expect a white friend to cut off a buddy who calls Blacks niggers, but for me to be unwilling to cut off a buddy of mine who's trigger-happy with other epithets, like "fag."

I don't think it's as perfectly black and white as that, but it's close enough for this entry. I don't want to expect a friend of mine to drop a friend of his or hers but whenever I think about being in the presence of such people WHILE the offender is still a part of the group, it feels really, really wrong.

Well, today that scenario went from a hypothetical to a reality. Part of me wonders if I'd feel differently if I'd been called "nigger" more times in my life (to my face, anyway) and had become desensitized to it.

Maybe. But there's another part of me that doesn't give a damn.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Weave Only Just Begun

Within the last day or so, I visited a local store and, as usual, drooled over the cute kids running around doing this and that. One of the kids that stands out in my memory was a little girl I'd guess to have been about six- or seven-years-old.

She was a cute kid, still young enough to have chubby cheeks, but looking less and less like a baby every day, I'd imagine. I also imagine that this has got to be a tough transition for parents. Just from my experiences with cousins and step-siblings, I'm sure it would be hard for me. I want the cute lil rugrats to stay that small and that young for as long as possible.

Maybe that's just because I don't have any children, yet, because a number of parents seem to feel differently. They seem to be trying their best to age their kids beyond their time on this Earth.

Or maybe they're trying to do something else, but either way, it bugs me that so many parents are willing to put weave in their little girl's hair.


That's one of the reasons I remember this little girl. Her hair was braided in a cute hairstyle that was somewhat age appropriate, I guess, but that said, to me, that the hair she had wasn't good enough or long enough or "white" enough or whatever.

Maybe this seems like a stretch to some of you, but I couldn't help using my crystal bal(d head) to look into this family's future. I saw a 14- or 15-year-old young lady trying to convince her parents to let her wear shorter skirts on her bottom, higher heels on her feet, ... and make-up on her face.

I imagined her parents putting their collective foot down, drawing a line, and telling her that she's too young for make-up and these other things that'll change her appearance, make her look older, and/or augment her under-aged assets.

I couldn't help wondering what made hair-weave the exception to the rule.

I'm not even getting into what it means when adults choose to push these up or fluff that out for one reason or another. When a child does it - with the encouragement and economic support of her parents - it concerns me.

Does this mean my future daughter won't be allowed to get a perm until she reaches a certain age... or for as long as she's a minor? I don't know, but I do know how I feel when I see little girls that can hardly speak clearly, doing booty-shaking dance, dressing provocatively, and wearing hair extensions.

I know they won't be kids forever, but can they at least be kids... while they're still kids?

Practicality & Prejudice

It's that time of year, again. The weather's transitioning from warm to chilly and from chilly to witch's titty.

This is hard on a bald head, so as in years past, I've taken to wearing skull caps. Along with that comes the looks from people wondering if I'm full of malt liquor and/or ready to snatch and grab purses and cash registers.

On top of that, we just moved so life is moving toward stabilization, not quite there, yet. (This is also a big factor in my recent absence - sorry Liz.) When I move I don't worry about shaving my head of face, so I'm sporting a pretty thick beard, right about now.

For anybody who needs help with the math,...

Beard + Skull cap + Black man = Purse clutching + Increased surveillance.

I've gotten more suspicious looks in the past few weeks than in the last six months or more. I complain about this crap every year, so I'm sure this is no surprise to some of you.

For what it's worth, I think this type of reaction is due to one part prejudice and one part practicality, but when you're on the receiving end - and innocent - it makes the Winter that much colder.

The Verdict is In

Have you heard of the case of Martin Lee Anderson?

I just heard about verdict and I just can't get the words of lawyer, Benjamin Crump, out of my head:

"You kill a dog, you go to jail. You kill a little black boy and nothing happens."

That's all I have to say about that, right now.

Jolie's Role

In a previous post, I complained about Angelina Jolie being chosen to play slain journalist, Daniel Pearl's, widow in the movie, "A Mighty Heart."

I feel somewhat differently, now.

Let me state, at the outset that 1) I don't care how many kids Jolie adopts and 2) I realize that the movie's by Brad Pitt's production company.

None of that factored into my current or former opinion (I don't think).

I still would've preferred that they'd cast a biracial actress for the role, but seeing Jolie "all made up" lessens my pissivity. It doesn't look or feel like "Blackface," to me.

I still mildly wince at the idea of Jolie playing a (partly-) Black woman, but I'm starting to think that her features help suspend disbelief a bit more... and her box-office pull is sumpin' fierce.

Anyway, I haven't completely changed my mind, but I've got more of await-and-see attitude going on, right about now.

How about you?

The Me in We

Here's another one of those distinctions that I make and some hate.

While on a work-related trip, this year, I attended a training session that really wasn't worth the time, effort, or expense. Despite that, I and most other associates kept quiet while the speaker spoke and participated here and there as necessary.

Unfoetunately, there were a couple of associates who talked, giggled, and distracted during the presentations. It was frustrating for a number of reasons - one of which was the fact that these young women were Black.

On some level, I felt that their juvenile behavior could reflect on me ... or "us." (And somewhat rightly so.)

So the distinction I mentioned? Here it is:

I hate the idea of being judged by the actions of others who happen to share my skin color. But I sure do understand why folks would do it.

A distinction without a difference, you say? Maybe.

I guess I'm saying that if any group has, claims, or deserves ANY reputation (good or bad), then it MUST be based on the qualities and actions of members of that group. That just makes sense.

I just wish some folks would remember that individuals are just that - and may surprise you any of the week.

We all deserve the opportunity to prove the stereotype right or wrong.

Twice By Half

It's been said before within various contexts, but it's never been more apparent in my own life than in recent years: I've got to be twice as good as another associate just to get half the recognition... or none, as the case may be.

Mistakes.
West can't put the wrong font on a page.
Others can produce reports with unbalanced data.

Mind-reading.
West is at-fault if someone asks for A, B, C but really wanted X, Y, Z.
Others who hear West say one thing are free to assume he means something else entirely.*

Memory.
West is a problem because he must be reminded to do things he can't do until others do their part.
Others who fail to do their parts, due to their own faulty memory, are excused because... ummm. Well, just because.

I'm sure a lot of folks just think, "Why don't you quit?!" Well, there are a number of good answers to that question. One is that such inequity is not unique to any given employer or position. I've seen it at various companies, as a "worker bee" and as a manager.

Whenever this comes up, someone usually makes a ton of excuses for the employer. This is probably no exception (assuming anyone comments), but here's a more specific example:

I worked at a place where almost everyone had a pager so they could be contacted at any part of the facility. Not long after I started, I found out that I had a reputation for being unreachable.

Why? Well, it seems that someone messed up and put a pager number next to my name on the directory, but no pager had been issued to me, yet. So people thought I'd been consistently ignoring their pages - but they never said anything about it in-person.

Later, that pager number was eliminated from the directory.

Later still, I'm exiting the manufacturing area when my boss walks by. "There you are. I've been paging you all morning. I didn't think you were in."

"Uhh. J, I don't have a pager."

He looks at me sideways.

"No, really. You said you would, but you never gave me one."

We walk and talk, as I maintain that I've never received a pager from him. We stand by his cubicle for a while, then he seems to have an epiphany and tells me to follow him. We walk toward my cubicle as he says, "This is your and my fault."

I couldn't wait to find out how it was my fault.

We reached my "desk," slips his hand under it, and pulls out a black, plastic drawer I never even knew was there. The drawer was underneath the "desk" writing area and recessed so you had to feel for it to pull it out - which meant, of course, that you needed to know it was there in the first place. I didn't.

In that drawer he pulled out... a pager. He'd put it there some time before, but never told me, so it'd still been sitting there.

I got how that was his fault, but I never got how it was mine. Yet and still, my reputation endured... especially when it was discovered that the pager number they put in the directory was the wrong one. It wasn't even assigned to the pager I'd been given.

By the way, the reason I knew I had this reputation was because a Black guy, whom I hardly knew, took me aside one day and told me what people were saying. Apparently, they had a nickname or an in-joke associated with me. He said not to sweat it too much because the same kind of reputation was attached to him when he first arrived (although I didn't ask if he'd received the same kinda "your fault and mine" blame I had) and he eventually shook it.

He just wanted to let me know, (Black) man-to-(Black)man, what was going on behind my back.

Oh yeah, that boss of mine... he held that pager thing against me when evaluation time came around.

There's always a reason why these types of things couldn't POSSIBLY have anything to do with skin color, yet I can't help notice the similarities between those that have experienced this kind of thing... and those that usually haven't.





* - Example: "In the future, we should make sure x is done before y," means "I don't want to do my job."

The Overeager Critique

This is just something I've been thinking about. There's no punchline or anything, just some thoughts:

I've been accused of being "offended for" other people, in the past. Apparently there are number of ways to be guilty of this crime. One involves A* being bothered when B says something offensive about C, who is not in attendance or has not expressed offense. I don't think there's anything wrong with this, in theory. It depends on the situation.

I know what it's like try so hard to be open-minded and fair that one comes across as a bit over-eager or a suck-up... or a traitor. Some Black folks appear this way when they're talking about how white folks are being unfairly judged. I wouldn't be surprised if I've given this impression, in the past. My only defense is that intentions were always pure and I genuinely felt whatever I expressed, at the time.

I realize it can be tough to tell if a person's heart is in the right place or if he or she is full of self-loathing and therefore quick to take "their" side over "ours." I've thought this about folks, myself, sometimes.

Ultimately, I guess we need folks who are willing to take a critical look at themselves or "their people" and share their findings. I also think we need to make sure there's balance between amount of benefit-of-the-doubt that we offer "them" and that we reserve for "us."





* - A, B, and C may be individuals or groups.

Hypothetical School Daze

Liz's recent post about a video contrasting the "inner-city & suburban" schools was eye-opening.

It reminds me of one of the things that scares me about the idea of having children: the public school system.

I catch enough hell trying to fight for my own rights and those of my grown-ass family members. Doing the same thing within a rigid, long-standing, biased school system sounds like a helluva battle - with the highest of stakes.

I don't want my (future) kids to suffer through lower educational standards, substandard facilities, and unsafe environments, but I also don't want them to have to suffer the embarrassment of having a parent who's always, always, always fighting about this or complaining about that.

It's not that the kids aren't worth the fight. It's the fact that it may be a fight that won't be won, but my kids could still end up in the crossfire.

All that said, I probably will have kids and no matter what school they go to, I'll probably be kickin' figurative administrative ass left and right. But it's a scary prospect, nonetheless.

I guess that's why they call it race, because it's precisely what determines how far behind the starting line we'll be.

♪ Read a $#^$ ^%*%^in' Book! ♪

This hilarious bit o' BET animation slipped past me, somehow. Luckily, the kind folks at 4thletter hooked us up.

Lemme know what you think.

(Not safe for work unless you have headphones and an obscured monitor screen.)*

* - There's no nudity, but there is profanity and a couple of mildly out-there scenes.

"Ching, Chong, Ching"

You may recall that a young Asian man, Kenneth Eng, wrote a newspaper article called "Why I Hate Black People," which, reportedly, expressed his negative feelings about Blacks as well as why other Asian-Americans should discriminate against us.

Cue public outcry, then fast-forward a couple of months.

Why am I mentioning it, now? Well, the subject came up on one of NPR's "News and Notes," podcasts and I just got around to listening to it, recently.

Also, something struck me. While asking some Asian-Americans how they felt about the contents of the article (one shop-owner said she's cool with Blacks and some of her Black customers said Eng's free to say whatever he wants, no matter how ignorant), the journalist approached some young girls for their opinion. The young lady responded by saying that while she didn't think Mr. Eng should've said those things, she and every other Asian person knew where he was coming from.

She was more or less saying she agreed with him.

"They jack us."
"They make fun of us."
"They say, 'Ching, chong, ching.'"

I believe her.

Here's the thing. I don't dig the idea that all Black people are being painted with the same brush, but I do understand the natural human tendency to associate certain behavior with those who most frequently display it - from your perspective, anyway.

I guess I'm saying that "we" shouldn't be so quick to condemn those who say bad things about us, then ignore our own culpability.

I could just imagine members of my own family, whom I love to pieces, saying how messed-up Eng's article was... all the while ignoring the fact that some of them have been referring to Asian people using "Ching, chong, ching" shit*, since I was a child - and probably well before.

White people aren't the only ones with racist legacies (or racial insensitivity, if you prefer).


Questions and comments are welcome.




* - By the way, I defended Rosie O'Donnell's controversial statements, at the time she said them, and I still do. I think it all comes down to intent.

Rosie's statements may not have been too bright, but they weren't about making fun of or discriminating against anyone. I can't say the same about Mr. Eng.

Liz Handlin' Her Biz

Liz's "I'm Not A Racist, But..." post is so incredibly well-written and well thought-out that, at the time, I couldn't even point out all the things I dug about it. I may do this later, but at the moment, I'm at a loss.

All I could do was read it to my girlfriend (after telling her, "Girl, you have GOT to read this...") and then go on about how awesome it was.


Quick notes for after you read it:

1. "...get my stuff waxed..." Rephrase, honey. Rephrase.
2. "It was said with the kind of authority that let me know that Blondie fully expected May to agree with her." That line says oh-so-much about the speaker. Not only ignant enough to say it, but arrogant, self-important, and illegitimately entitled enough to expect agreement. Whoooooooo!
3. Artful ending.

Nice one.

Duke Rape Case Accuser

Source: NPR News

An National Public Radio (NPR) news item mentions that a Raleigh, North Carolina newspaper published the name of the accuser in the Duke Rape Case. At this point, NPR refuses to publish her name. The editor's note on that webpage explains why.

I found this part particularly compelling - and not just because of the mental health implications:

"In this case, the attorney general specifically decided not to charge the accuser with perjury, or filing a false police report. He went so far as to say that his investigators told him that the woman may believe some of the stories she has been telling. He said the decision not to charge her with making false accusations was also based on a review of sealed court files, including records of the woman's mental health history."

The fact that there are no charges of perjury or filing a false police report, combined with the fact that the Duke LaCrosse players collectively refused to cooperate with the investigation, has left me suspicious of those players. While I'm not prepared to say that they're guilty, I'm certainly not prepared to go so far as to say they're innocent.

As far as I'm concerned, there's something fishy about this case and it's not just on the accuser's (or her supporters') side.

At various points it's been about assault, race, and class. Right now, I'm thinking it may be about power and class.

I freely admit, though, that I don't know that these young men broke the law. In fact, as far as the law is concerned, they are not guilty of this crime.


Questions? Comments?

"To Serve and Protect"... and Profile

I've mentioned before that I drove to Maryland on business about three weeks, ago. The way it worked out, I decided to drive from Tallahassee to Georgia, take care of some medical issues over the course of a week, then continue to Maryland.

I drove to Maryland on a Wednesday, worked on Thursday, then drove back to Georgia on Friday.

In yesterday's post, I mentioned having been pulled over by the Carolina police, while I was on my way back to Georgia. Although I'd fallen behind schedule, I did a pretty good job of sticking with my "no speeding" policy.* Sadly, that didn't stop an officer on I-85 from pulling up behind me, then on left, then behind me, then on my right, then behind me, for about five or ten miles, then flashing his lights and pulling me over.

My offense? The little lights that illuminate the license plate weren't lit. Of course, the sun was still up, so I'm sure he had no problem reading my tag. It was just a convenient excuse to pull me over, since my headlights were on but the tag lights weren't. My tail lights were fine, by the way.

Anyway, he pulls me over, walks up to my vehicle, and sticks his head in the passenger side window asking me about where I'm from and where I'm going. He asks where I work, suggesting that I work on or with computers, since I had two laptops in the front seat. Then, of course, I felt the need to justify my presence on the highway and explain why I own so many computers... because, by then, I already felt like a criminal, despite having done nothing illegal.

The vehicle registration had been held up but I presented my license and proof of insurance, so he seemed satisfied that the vehicle wasn't stolen or whatever.

He then asked if I'd step out of the vehicle and follow him to the back. As I did, I noticed there were two or three additional police vehicles lined up behind me. He showed me that my tag lights weren't on and then handed me a written warning which required no action on my part.

I thought that was the end of it and I could continue on my journey, but then he said, "Well, unfortunately, you're on a route that's known for transporting drugs between D.C. and Atlanta. We would like your permission to search your vehicle."

Now, this is a request, which suggests that I am free to decline. However, there are a bunch of people around me with badges, guns, and the authority to make my life very inconvenient, so, from my perspective, it was a request, punctuated with a threat. So, I consented.

If I had it to do over, again, I would have declined, because that decision affected my travel time and my health. Instead, I submitted to the request to search my vehicle and my person, raising my arms and being pat-down in front of scores of drivers - a Black man looking like a suspect from the tv show, COPS. After all, I figured, I was in South Carolina so I probably wouldn't have THAT much further to drive.

"Do you have any weapons in the vehicle?"
"No."

"Any illegal drugs or large amounts of cash?"
"I'm about the squarest guy you could've pulled over. I've got a ton of Benadryl in there, a buck in my pocket, and a buck in my wallet. So, no."**


As the sun set, I stood outside of my vehicle next to I-85, wearing a tank top and sporting a wicked cough that was getting worse, by the second. The winds and cooling temperatures made my existing cough so bad that ever time I tried to speak, I coughed about a dozen or so times.

The Black cop they assigned to stand by me while they searched every nook and cranny of my vehicle, luggage, and other possessions, asked me about my life - where I lived, where I worked, my allergies, etc. I don't know if he was trying to be kind or milk me for information, but, against the darkening sky and bright headlights of the police cruisers, his grinning silhouette was like something out of a minstrel act. His questions were friendly in a situation where I felt I had no friends. It's like he was somehow meant to be relatable but came off as somewhat offensive.

Reacting to my horrible coughing fits, the Black cop asked if I wanted to have a seat. Thinking he was talking about my vehicle, I declined, saying that I didn't want to impede or appear to be trying to impede progress. I wanted to do whatever would make this situation come to an end as quickly as possible.

After more questions from the officer and more coughing from me, he asked, again. "Are you sure you don't want to have a seat?"

"Well, I might have to take you up on that offer, this time," I said. After all, that cough wasn't getting any better out there on that cool, windy interstate.

I looked at the officer, though, and noticed that he'd turned toward his cruiser. "Oh, you're talking about getting in the back of the police car," I asked with a frown on my face. "No thanks."

That pissed me off because it was like an invitation from the spider to the fly. Hell, they pulled me over acting like my light problem was something substantive, when really it wasn't.*** They just wanted to get me in their clutches. He acted like he was just showing me the unilluminated area, when he was really preparing to search my vehicle. Who knows what would've happened once I was in the back of the police car.

And, besides all that, I'll be damned if I wanted to be made to feel any more like a criminal by being seated in the part of the police car you can't open the doors from the inside. I've been in that situation, before, when someone was searching the truck I owned during my freshmen year in college. They weren't in any rush to let me back out, even when it'd been established that I hadn't stolen that vehicle, either!

Finally, they finished and, trying to view this as one of the inconveniences that law-abiding citizens have to suffer, sometimes, in order to keep us all safe, I responded with humor. "Pretty boring, huh?"

"Nah. It's kinda interesting seeing stuff from people's lives."

Maybe he meant nothing by it, but something about that answer combined with the lack of contrition on his part that left a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe this is how they get through an unpleasant job, but it felt like a violation of my privacy. The fact that they found nothing wrong and didn't bother to apologize for the inconvenience didn't help.

I called my loved-ones to let them know that and why I'd be even later, then I pulled back onto what was now a very dark road. I'd guess that the whole episode took about an hour.

Not long after that, I realized that I wasn't in South Carolina, yet. I hadn't made it out of North Carolina and, ultimately, I wouldn't make it home until about 1am, the next morning.

After the shitty directions I got for leaving Maryland, getting lost and taking forever to find my way back, then getting pulled over by these "servers and protectors" and continuing on my journey, I spent about 20 hours on the road.

When I finally got to my parents' exit, in Georgia, I stopped at a local Wal-Mart for some drugs because what I thought were allergy symptoms were really the effects of a "bug" I caught from the people at the Maryland office, during a training I never wanted to go to. I only agreed because of a combination of pressure from management plus the potential to make it work out in my favor - the opportunity to gain access to more in-network medical providers, for instance.

I spent the next week sick as a dog with a temperature that got as high as 102.x. After the first couple of days, I saw a doctor who said that I probably caught it from my Maryland co-workers and then exascerbated the sickness and symptoms by standing on the side of the freeway while my vehicle was searched.

THE END

I welcome your questions, comments, and criticism.








* - It's both a safety concern and a financial one. Damned if I'm trying to give up two or three hundred dollars to my local county or PODUNK County, USA.
** - It was true. I only had about $15 on me when I went through the toll area I'd been told about by the co-workers who gave me directions to avoid D.C. traffic on my way out of Maryland. They failed to mention, though, that the toll was at least twelve dollars.
*** - Of course, this is assuming that one of the cops didn't unscrew the lights, himself.

Imus, wtf?!

Uhhh. I heard that Imus referred to some women's basketball team as a bunch of "nappy-headed hoes."

I don't know the context (which, according to contemporary journalistic standards might've been ol' boy reading a line from a Spike Lee script) but dayum!

I'm not exactly raising the bar here, but this one floored me.