Understanding the Need to Exist Here

“Does he need any help?”

   “Do I need his help?”

     Could we help each other? (or would my acknowledgment of him as the only other Black guy in the class make him feel uneasy?)

       Is he even aware—does he even care—that we are the only two Black males in the class?

* * *

Class ends.

   I still have not talked to him.

    I come to the realization that White people do not even have to worry about this dilemma.

* * *

This was not the first time I have experienced this dilemma of uncertainty as it relates to racial belonging, and I have confidence that it will not be the last time. In times like this, I am transported back to Georgetown University (affectionately referred to as G’town), where I was an undergrad. Although being a student there was not necessarily my first experience in understanding the need to exist in a space not easily accessible to those like me, it was an experience that showed me that I was not alone. Usually for us (and by “us” I mean “Black males”), we are separated when we tend to congregate with each other. There seems to be an unwritten rule in society that Black males cannot form a group because the perception is that we become too loud, are planning a drug deal, or will participate in some deviant behavior.

In reality, we only want to enjoy one another’s company as others do in their own group—we want to laugh at each other’s jokes, and we want to enjoy this comfortable place of space with others like us. But these opportunities do not happen very often for us, and I understand—or have come to internalize—that these opportunities are policed by others because they do not want Black males to have those experiences.

   Yet our goals are the same:

To learn from each other’s experiences,

 to share stories, and find out more about ourselves.

Our gatherings are thus makeshift places of knowledge outside of the traditional classroom. Black barbershops are so cherished for Black people because they are not only viable businesses but they also act as the lifeline of communication and knowledge in the Black community. Black males are respected in the Black barbershop and can share their wisdom about life in the Black community, which is in contrast to how Black males are frequently treated in traditional academic settings (e.g., see Alexander, 2003). Barack Obama (1995) even wrote about the historical placeness of his Black barbershop in Chicago as an important technology of understanding the particularities of his Hyde Park community during his time spent as a professor at the University of Chicago.

In my experience, Black males are treated differently in traditional academic settings due to various reasons. It should come as no surprise that there are a plethora of quantitative reports documenting an “achievement gap” between Black males and other students, such as Kirp’s (2010) study on the degree to which Black male students fall behind their fellow students in academic performance and achievement, and Abramson’s (2010) report that Black male students are nearly twice as likely to drop out of high school as their White classmates. Other reports have documented that Black males are held back in elementary school twice as much White males and are three times more likely to be suspended from school (Howard, 2015). I became frustrated with this epidemic firsthand as I worked with a program in North Carolina during the days of President George W. Bush’s No Child Left Behind Act to mentor Black males in reading and math skills. In theory, the concept of the program was great, and it did help a number of youth in the area, but the lack of financial accountability and control of those funds, placed in the hands of a cash-strapped municipality, diverted many of the efforts away from the program’s intended mission.

What stands out most from all of these academic studies is that there are different ways of looking at the world, teaching, and communicating that are unique for us—Black males. From my experience, the schools seem to be out of touch and do not care to accommodate for these differences in culture, class, and socioeconomic status. As students, we all want to succeed, but support systems are distinctly set up for some students and not for others due to centuries of alienation, mistrust, and blatant disrespect for other cultures and peoples.

Consistently, Black males are compared with the White middle-class norm (Emdin, 2012) in an educational culture that blindly tries to look forward without wanting to look back—look back at the collective failure of under-educating Black males without encouraging them “to become more interested and effective learners” (Emdin, 2012). Part of being an interested and effective learner is having someone to learn with. We had plenty of those times at G’town. As an undergrad, we regularly met and cooked for each other as we studied. It helped us all relax and then focus on what we had to do—both academically and athletically.

I miss those times.

And I wonder whether Black males at other schools have others to help them through tough subjects or times in college. As a PhD student now in this space, the space of a highly ranked research-extensive university, I notice that the White kids go out of their way to help each other by setting up study groups, and if I am not lucky enough to tag along with one of my White buddies, I would not be invited. Asian students routinely go to lunch together or make dinner at each other’s places to commune, discuss, and help each other work through assignments. As a PhD student in this space, I look around after most classes as these discussions to meet later are taking place, and I realize the invitation to meet later is not open to me because I am not welcome in their space.

At the undergraduate level, there are many programs like Summer Bridge or Community Scholars to help minority students adjust to the rigors of a new school, but at the PhD level, there is no such support for Black males. According to the National Center for Educational Statistics (NCES; 2011), only 3.8% of doctoral degrees were earned by Black males. The news for the future is not brighter. The pool of Black males for advanced college degrees is getting smaller with a completion rate for Black males gaining bachelor’s degrees at 6.5% of the total undergrad population (NCES, 2011). Privileges given through domination and control by the majority continues these trends in systemic ways (Tatum, 1997). I would argue that the daily interactions that help the majority place themselves in the center of their existence without concern for other epistemologies, which along with the lack of faculty support and preparation contribute to the possible failure of Black males at predominantly White institutions. Or in other words, we are not even expected to be in their space.

Even when Black males earn the right to be in a privileged space, there are factors that are continuously conspiring to remove the Black male from that space. One such example is the case of Harvard University professor Henry Gates Jr. On July 16, 2009, he was arrested at his Cambridge, Massachusetts, home by a local police officer responding to a 9-1-1 call of a man breaking into the residence from his neighbor. Dr. Gates just returned home after a trip to China for research and while in his home was summoned by police to step outside of his house and arrested for disorderly conduct. Even President Obama weighed in on the arrest as a national debate was generated about the topic of racial profiling by police (McPhee, 2009).

In their space, many in the majority would assume that Black males are there only because we have a perceived athletic prowess or because of a quota to have a certain amount of Black students attend their space; the public misperception of affirmative action coupled with a deliberate misrepresentation of it by politicians and media elites alike has certainly contributed to that. For Black males, there is usually no outstretched hand of welcome unless you initiate the interaction. In that case, it is a forced gesture, not a genuine one. There is no what can we do to help unless they see you are struggling in the process, and then, you only get minimal help at that point with the heavy scent of condescension directed at you along with the added spice of pleasure from your failure to achieve. Usually, we are looked at and expected to greet them as they walk into the room with a hello, how are you as if it is expected for you to say thank you for letting me into your space because I really do not deserve to be here. And their answer of doing good is cooked in a gravy of are you still here? Or do you really think you can make it through our program?

At all levels of academia, there always seems to be a perceived academic incompetence for Black males that someone will try to bring to the forefront. In classes, I usually do not say much because I think that it is respectful to listen to the instructor and not talk just for the sake of hearing your own voice or listen to how smart you think you are. Some students, especially at the doctoral level, act in the contrary. Yet because of this, my personal stance on classroom discussion can be sometimes confused with the aforementioned achievement gap in which many perceive Black males as being unintelligent and unable to compete in the classroom. Due to these false perceptions, I have made it a point when I speak in class to make sure it is something that is worthwhile because the worst thing to do for a Black male is to be in the class with mostly White and Asian people and actually live up to the stereotype of being the unintelligent Black male. I must say that it is still fun to see the collective look of a classroom when a Black male says something worthwhile in class or is successful on a test. It is truly priceless. I work hard in school partly to see these moments in time because they prove that Black males belong in this space no matter what the perceptions are about our ability. Black males have to deal with a structure at this level that is not set up for us to succeed with very little support. We are already perceived to be inferior academically and must perform well at this level because everyone else is already holding the door open for us to leave their space.

* * *

Outside of basketball, Black males in other sports at G’town did not particularly excel in athletics. Many reports (e.g., “Almanac of Higher Education,” 2012; NCES, 2011; Schott Foundation for Public Education, 2010) state that Black males at predominantly White schools have the lowest graduation rates of any group. This has been a persistent problem recognized more within the last 10 years. According to the National Collegiate Athletic Association (Wieberg, 2010), Black male athletes graduate at a rate of 59%, a rate improvement from 9 years ago when the graduation success rate (GSR) was first recorded. In contrast, the National Center for Education Statistics (2011) reports that only 33.1% of Black males in college will graduate compared with a rate of 57.3% for the total college population. In efforts to address this issue, the U.S. Department of Education gives valuable information on their website primarily to benefit first-generation college students (which includes most Black males) about how to finance the costs of college (Brenchley, 2012). Participating in sports at G’town was all about fun. We all recognized that being at G’town was a difficult space to maneuver through due to differences in backgrounds, privilege, and opportunity with many of our classmates, but for us, as Black males in this space, it felt as if we had a bond with each other that helped us make it through one of the most challenging schools in the country. Ironically, this was before all the talk of low graduation rates among Black males. For us, making it to graduation was an expectation, not an issue.

As I reflect on some of these past moments of belonging to a space, with the support of others like me, from this new position as a PhD student at Florida State University, the memories usually flow back to those days at Georgetown. There is a hesitation to reveal many of those raw observations due to this newly found inclusion, access, and assimilation within this new and exclusive space of higher education. I do not have the connections or relationships I had at G’town. There are no Black (male or female) professors or deans in my department to connect with. Sure, there are other Black males in our department; I do not want to make it seem like I do not see a welcoming Black face from time to time. The Black males in our department are very nice—some undergrads, a couple of master’s students who ask me for advice about their own classes—but here, at the PhD level, there are no other Black males to share or provide any mentoring with these new experiences. I would have to look in the mirror to find one. It is difficult to share all of my feelings or experiences of being a Black male in this space with others who have not stood in similar shoes. When you open yourself up to others in such a way, you also leave yourself vulnerable to the obstacles you have continuously tried to dodge. You also do not want to alienate those who may be just trying to help. How I see things may not be how things are. I have learned that my perceptions are undoubtedly human and with error, but there were strengths in the descriptions I can give to others about how it is for me to be in this space, the reasoning behind my personal perceptions, and why there should be further explorations into what can make this space more welcoming to others like me. Subconsciously, I usually notice the ethnicities of others in every space I occupy, especially those who are Black. Almost like an automaton, I have been programmed to always know where I am, the people surrounding me, and a way to escape a bad situation. Having been raised by family who experienced segregation and the Civil Rights Movement in America, their knowledge and understanding—no matter how paranoid it may seem to me at times—has become in many ways my knowledge and understanding of how to see America. When they discuss issues in society with me, their focus remains in Black and White because they were conditioned to perceive the world in that way. Is America, during my generation, far enough removed from that focus?

* * *

I always feel as if I am the Black guy in academia and my worth is devalued in one way or another.

Starting from middle school, my parents wanted me to participate in as many sports as possible while, of course, getting my schoolwork done first. That was the only rule: Do well in school, you can play; do not perform well in school, you cannot play. Football. Bowling. Baseball. Basketball. Wrestling. Participation in sport was rarely restricted for me. In my upbringing, mostly in North Carolina, if you were not good, then you did not play as much. Politics and race were always important issues to consider, anywhere in the American South, but winning in sports was even more important. As many of the White and Native American kids in our region of North Carolina were usually as poor as the Black kids, status was not as important in many instances. Many parents just wanted to find ways for their kids to stand out in some way so they could go to college.

Differentiation for me started when I began to excel in school. It seemed like all of a sudden, I was put in classes with all White and Asian kids because I scored higher on tests than many of my Black classmates. I was not able to be in the same classes with the kids who I played sports with anymore. And as those classes were harder, I was not able to “just play” with my friends as much, and I was disconnected from the kids in my own neighborhood. The only times I would see my teammates would be in practices and games; there was no more hanging out in the streets just for fun.

“Are you better than us?”

    “You should just hang out with us?”

       “Why are you trying to be White and read all the time?”

These new opportunities to learn were not good things if you asked me at the time because a lot of friends were lost. At times, I still question whether these opportunities were beneficial to me at that particular time in my life. Yet over the long term, I know they were because I was able to excel in the classroom and get noticed by schools not only because I was able to play a sport but also because I was a good student. I look back and ask where I would be now if I did not have those opportunities. I remember specifically one of my best friends during that time who hung out in the streets a lot when we went to high school. When I went to college, we remained friends even though we were on different paths in life. During my senior year in college, he was murdered by someone who had a beef with him on the streets of my town.

Whenever I go home on breaks from school, I visit his grave.

His grave is near my grandparents’ graves.

He was 20 years old when he died;

my grandparents were much older and died naturally.

Would I have met that same fate if it were not for the opportunities I have had through education?!

* * *

As I look back on playing football at G’town, what stands out most is that it was fun to play with other Black boys like me. Within our first week of two-a-days, we discovered that we had something else in common. They were also boys who were pulled out of their classrooms as middle school and high school kids to “learn with the White kids,” as my Black friends from home would call it.

“We know what that’s like?! We know how that feels!” were phrases unheard until Georgetown.

It was nice to hear them from other Black boys like me.

These Black boys were Roy, Johnny, Ed, Cris, Brad, Ernie, and Frank. Their names were unforgettable; years apart now, remembering their names is still easy. A few of these guys were prep school guys so their experiences were definitely not the same economically but they understood. A few of the guys were light-skinned brothers so they were definitely looked at differently than the dark-skinned brothers ¹ but they also understood. ²

As Black guys in this challenging space, we were able to share our stories about how we felt alone in circumstances of being Black athletes in classes with kids who were not like us. These discussions were good, even therapeutic at times. Even though we had some differences in status, we all became friends and tried to navigate through the mostly White (academic) world of Georgetown University together.

And we had a blast.

There was a freedom to be ourselves around each other.

There was a freedom to be Black and proud of it, or even to act White ³ by discussing important topics with each other and not be afraid of offending someone around us because we knew we had each others’ back.

We had the freedom to even be young, arrogant, and deviant as strong, successful athletes as we were not allowed to act this way at any other time in our lives once we were separated from boys like us.

Unlike former friends from home, these Black boys remain friends to this day, and it is a great feeling when reunions come around because there is an understanding of what we experienced during those days at G’town.

During our time on the team, Roy even got me to go to a cheerleading practice because it was something he wanted to do and he did not want to be the only Black guy on the team. Supporting each other made us feel better about trying something new. The potential to take ridicule from others did not even matter as long as we stayed together. Together we would be able to prevail over the only Black guy in the room syndrome. We actually came up with other legitimate reasons to participate when we put our heads together.

It was something that looked fun.

  It gave us extra stipend money (as we were both from poor families), and there were good looking girls.

The longer we considered the decision, the more it sounded like a no-brainer. We were both relative novices in cheerleading, but this was a team who had aspirations to qualify for a tournament in Orlando during the spring so they needed strong bodies willing to learn quickly. There was no distinction or separation because of race, status, or social class; it was all about skill, and we quickly became two of the best guys on the team. As we cheered at G’town basketball games, we became the two Black guys on the team—and it was looked at as a positive thing because Black students were not used to seeing any Blacks at all on the cheerleading team. Our White friends cheered for us, our Latino and Asian friends cheered for us, and the Black students cheered for us.

Being Black to us was a positive identity and cherished feeling. It was even “okay” for us to hang out with the pretty White girls, because we were on their team. We were throwing them around like rag dolls; we were trusted with them. We were even proud to be their trusted guardians. This kind of acceptance never happens for Black males, and sadly, this kind of acceptance usually does not happen outside the world of sport.

Years after those experiences at Georgetown, we still see new Black stars like LeBron James not accepted and portrayed in a demeaning manner with what appears to be a White woman on his arm. The 2008 Vogue magazine cover of him with Giselle Bundchen (a blond Brazilian model) caused a stir in the media and sent a clear message to all Black males that we are still seen as uncontrollable animals and not as intelligent men (USA Today, 2008). LeBron James is the only Black male to ever be on the cover of Vogue Magazine throughout its famed history, so in a way his presence represented all Black males and how we are viewed in society. According to Vogue, LeBron’s embodiment of Black maleness was not in a suit to show a sophisticated world-class athlete and entrepreneur but as a racist caricature of King Kong to further perpetuate the stereotype of Black males as savages, animals, and out of control in society (especially around White women; “LeBron James’ ‘Vogue’ Cover Called Racially Insensitive,” 2008).

* * *

After graduation from G’town, I was approached about a business opportunity in gymnastics and cheerleading that would involve coaching. Through the use of personal funds, knowledgeable contacts, and previous work in the industry, I became a part owner in a gym in Pennsylvania. With the success of the business and continuing my participation in sport, I felt as if I could control the surroundings of this space. I wanted to make this space a place where race did not matter. But as Cornel West (2001) reminds us, race always matters. Teaching high school mathematics and reading at the local high school during the day supplemented passions to run a successful business, help kids learn how to tumble, and make a difference in the lives of young people. Although most of the customers were young White girls put into gymnastics by their mothers, there were still a fair amount from varied ethnicities, social backgrounds, and parts of the region. With my skills as a certified gymnastics instructor who was passionate about the sport, numerous athletes attending the gym would go on to receive college scholarships in gymnastics.

Despite the legacy of racial stereotypes, many of the moms would come to me and ask whether I would date their older daughters who were out of college (as I was) without a mention or concern that I was Black. Sometimes, I thought about checking the mirror to make sure I still appeared Black even though I knew I was. I think this self-awareness or even over-reactions of how I was perceived by some in society made me form a barrier for all who were not like me. I have seen many times in society Black males portrayed as threatening or aggressive when it comes to women, and to me, it has been a scapegoat to devalue the worth of a Black man’s accomplishments. Because these perceptions are still visible in society, Black men have become undeniably weary of forming any kind of relationships with women (especially White women). Even in forced professional relationships with women, Black men must continue to be cautious because Black men are usually guilty until proven innocent; not the other way around. ⁴

Black men usually hear it from other Black people starting from high school, “you better not mess with that White girl.” In this space as a gym owner, it was not my intention to do so because in my personal view it could look bad for business if any relationship with a White woman went bad. In addition, I did not want to perpetuate the stereotype of a Black man who desired White women (or in other words, clients of my gym). Subconsciously, I remember reading about the story of heavyweight champion Jack Johnson who overcame all odds to become the champ at the height of the Jim Crow era in 1908 (Burns, 2005). Johnson was a big, Black man who was seen as not only bold but also pompous at the height of his career. He had relations with White women and did not care if anyone knew it. This was a bad combination of facts for any Black man in those days ⁵ and is not really a good combination of facts for a Black man over 100 years later. Even though times have dramatically changed for some in this country as far as interracial relations are concerned, I still remember the advice to not mess with White women because racism works differently these days. Racism is more covert, cunning, and deceptive in modern times. No matter if some people do not see me as a Black man, my appearance has not changed in the eyes of the world and that I am not fully accepted into many places in society.

There are two specific cases that come to mind for me when thinking about the uniqueness of how Black males are perceived to interact with women, and I think all Black men should be aware of them. I will always remember reading about the Emmett Till murder and the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill case. For me, these cases provide valuable lessons for all Black men.

In summary, the Emmett Till murder was the case of a Black boy who was brutally murdered in Mississippi at the age of 14 after reportedly flirting with a White woman in 1955. Several nights later, the woman’s husband along with his half-brother took Till from his great-uncle’s house, transported him to a barn, beat him, and gouged out one of his eyes, before shooting him through the head and disposing of his body in the Tallahatchie River with a 70 pound cotton gin fan tied around his neck with barbed wire (Whitaker, 2005). This was all done for flirting with a White woman. This was all done to a 14-year-old kid. And to top it off, both killers were acquitted of Till’s kidnapping and murder. This crime has been noted as the pivotal moment leading to the Civil Rights Movement. Nowadays, there are many interracial relationships that are visible throughout society. In the 1970s, the popular show The Jeffersons (Lear, 1975-1985) even featured a White man married to a Black woman but where is the accepted place for the Black man? The taboo of the Black male and White female is still not acceptable territory for most in society. In 2005, the U.S. Federal Communications Commission had to actually rule that a November 2004 Monday Night Football skit of Terrell Owens (who is a Black athlete) and a seemingly nude Nicollette Sheridan (a White actress) was not indecent (USA Today, 2005). The same skit featuring a White male in the same role during any other primetime show was acceptable during that time, but the firestorm settled on a White woman being aggressively attracted to a Black man and the amount of complaints received from ABC viewers claiming the skit was inappropriate (Joyner, 2005).

Now contrast this with the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill case in 1991. Clarence Thomas is the second Black man to serve on the Supreme Court and during his confirmation hearings, an FBI interview with Anita Hill, a Black woman who worked under Thomas, was leaked. Hill was called to testify at the hearings that Thomas (who is married to a White woman) had subjected her to comments of a sexual nature and provided lurid details upon questioning (Greenburg, 2007). Thomas called the testimony “a circus and a national disgrace” (New York Times, 1991). He also described himself as someone who “will be lynched, destroyed, caricatured by a committee of the U.S. Senate rather than hung from a tree” (New York Times, 1991). Thomas was confirmed to the high court later in 1991 with the he said–she said debate of what really happened continues to present day. It seems as if the Black man is not accepted in this space either unless he endures total humiliation in an open arena without the opportunity for discretion. At that point, the Black male is only a shell of his former self. Humbled. Devalued. The family of the Black man must be willing to endure immeasurable pressure and scrutiny to attain some sort of privileged status in this society. Others who may feel entitled to reach those lofty heights of success immediately see him as a threat to their own achievement. For Black males at this level, help or support is only minimal because there are fewer people who want to see him push ahead of their own social, political, or economic status.

* * *

For me in this present space as a Black male doctoral student, there are constant reminders about the disparities in education between those who have the opportunity to learn and those who do not. I continue to learn with the White (and Asian) kids, but we are not kids anymore. We are adults, and the stakes are higher now. We have all sacrificed to get to this space and want to succeed toward our ultimate goals. I would like to get into a position to mentor as many Black males as possible so they can watch out for the pitfalls that can await them as they continue to strive toward their education. How we, as Black males, occupy this space in the future is very important. We must work with those who are not threatened by our presence to help those who feel threatened understand that Black males in this space are not doing anything wrong, or being deviant, or becoming defiant against all others not like us. We must succeed because knowledge is a pathway to change patterns of power and to support the examination of the ethical implications of participatory research beneficial to all parties involved. Here, there are not many (if any) like me, and it can be debated whether this space is even welcoming for us by those who are not like me. I must continue to exist here and help others (like and unlike me) gain access. Through continued access, others like me can actually help make this a welcoming space.