the first family

"I don't know what the future may hold, but I know who holds the future." - ralph abernathy

With all the talk about the possibility of the first black president, I'm reminded and equally excited about the prospect of the First Family being black. The black community has never had that high profile black family we could point to as the model of success. Sure, we've had an endless list of individual heroes, with dysfunctional or very private family lives. We've even had power couples like Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee, who endured over time, serving as heroes for black love. But we never really got to know their family. So when we begin to have the black family discussion, the list of black families we all know and love quickly grows anemic.

The most celebrated black families of all time weren't even real people, they were fictional characters. The black family discussion over the past twenty years always seems to start and end with the Evans family from the tv show "Goodtimes", and the Cosby family from the hit sitcom, "The Cosby Show". In the Evans household, the black family experience was framed by struggle, something we can all relate to, whereas the Cosby's blackness was framed by the realization of success, which we all aspire to achieve. No matter who you are or what your background is, chances are your black family experience, or notion of one, resides somewhere between the Evans/Cosby spectrum. For some reason, our real black families haven't achieved that universal black acceptance. The King family could have had that, but it's hard to celebrate a family we remember more for their loss, than what they represented to black America. The Jackson family probably comes closest. Few families have been as high profile and achieved the amount of success they have. However, no matter how many hits you give us, there's only so many nose jobs, LaToya Jackson tell all books, and Michael Jackson pedophile cases black folk can take before you quickly fall from hero status to freak show. Therefore, in 2008, the void for that high profile black family we all can celebrate still remains.

"...you can’t love yourself unless you know that somebody that looks like you has done something good." - ophelia devore-mitchell

I was extremely lucky as a kid. Not only did I have both parents, I was surrounded by people, aunts, uncles, and friends of the family, whose black family unit resembled mine. Father, mother, kids, all under one roof. I saw complete black families all the time, but I was the exception. The average black kid grows up without his father living in the home, and most of their friends find themselves in a similar predicament. Thanks to the resiliency of black women, many have grown up to thrive and prosper, despite not having their fathers around. However, when I talk to my friends who grew up without one of their parents, they always talk about longing for that part of the equation they missed in childhood. There are certain lessons about family and black love that you only get by seeing up close, as it plays out daily in front of you. Unfortunately, it's not being played out in front of enough of our kids. So as the black family unit continues to erode, so do the lessons of how to maintain one.

One truly can't measure the impact seeing a black First Family day in and day out would have on black America. My first grade teacher used to tell us we could be anything we wanted to be, "even the president of these United States of America". Did we believe her? Nah, not really. I was more inclined to believe I could be a great boxer, cause there was a picture of Ali on the wall. I could be a Supreme Court judge, cause there was a picture of Thurgood Marshall on the wall. I could be O.J. Simpson, Barbara Jordan, Richard Wright, or Dr. Charles Drew, cause I could see the face to match the accomplishment every single day on the wall at school. But no where did I see a Black president. The Obama family in the White House, would provide an entire generation with a living example of what they could be. And not just president. The mere image of this illustrious family on the White House lawn would provide kids with a different set of ideals. Not only can I be something, I can also have something (a family).

Besides seeing the First Family on the cover of Ebony magazine, we'd see them on the cover of ALL the magazines. Always beautiful, always looking strong, healthy, and happy, like all black families should. We'd get to see their electric smiles as they walked with their dog, waving at cameras, just before stepping onto a helicopter for a family get away at Cape Canaveral. MIchelle would take up causes, and we'd see her in commercials, showing empathy for the problems that plague the world. We'd see the kids running from a limo as they entered their schools, or in candid behind the scene photos in some kind of New York Times profile. We'd marvel at how quickly our young kids began to learn their kids names. We'd see our First Family side by side with the first families of other great nations. And in the midst of all that we saw, we'd begin to feel a certain sense of pride. Somewhere in our minds, there'd be a wall with a picture of the Obama family, and it'd mean something to us. It'd mean the black family had ambassadors, the most powerful in the world. And suddenly, their image would be just as influential if not more, than the image of the philandering entertainer on MTV cribs had ever been.

I'm sure the image of a black president would help to kill stereotypes about black men. And a black first lady will most likely improve the visibility of black women in corporate America, as well as in Hollywood. But the real opportunity is to inspire and sell a new generation on the importance of the black family. We can be excellent. We can be rich. And like my first grade teacher used to say, we can be anything we want to be. But no longer do we have to do it alone. Thanks to the Obama's, hopefully we'll be reminded, we can do it, as a family. One luv.

am i my brotha's keeper?

“I believe in the brotherhood of all men, but I don't believe in wasting brotherhood on anyone who doesn't want to practice it with me. Brotherhood is a two-way street.” - Malcolm X

One of my closest boys, my brotha, prides himself on keeping it real. Real for him is saying whatever, whenever, in whatever loud ghetto ass way he chooses to say it. His ability to disrupt the room with wild outrageous outbursts empowers him. It's his way of owning the room, and making sure the attention never drifts too far way from him. Amongst select company, or when we're kicking it around the crib, those antics are generally considered funny. We all know how he is, we accept it, we enjoy it.

Then there are other times. Say there's a huge get together at the house. Suddenly the range of people isn't just the fellas anymore. It's family members, elders, small children, religious folk, quiet people, loud people, those who cuss and drink, and those who look down on those who do. In this situation, my friend tends to polarize the room. The loud over the top loose lipped comments tend to not go over so well with the religious minded or the parents of small kids in the room. When they become agitated, I become agitated.

Enter me, the host, the guy who has to keep everyone in the room comfortable. In situations like this, my loyalty is to the collective, not the individual. So my first comment to my brotha is always very friendly. "You tripping son, chill out, you see all these kids around here". I laugh it off and go about my business. You tend to give your brotha the benefit of the doubt the first couple of times. But when people I enjoy, start grabbing their coats heading for the door, cause ONE brotha can't constrain himself, it's not time for them to go home. It's time for my BROTHA to go home. You see, part of being a brotha is about respecting your brotha enough to make sure he's successful, at any and everything he does. So although your personal mantra is to always "keep it real", at his party, you recognize the situation for what it is, and you show constraint. And if you're ever to visit your brotha's job, where he makes his money, instead of showing your ass, you show constraint. Because being a brotha isn't just about supporting me, it's about not sabotaging me. It's not a selfish act, it's selfless, and often requires sacrifice. It often requires the kind of sacrifice Reverend Jeremiah Wright just wasn't willing to make for Barack Obama.

"Yesterday I think he caricatured himself… That made me angry, but also made me sad." - sen. barack obama (speaking on rev. jeremiah wright's press conference)

According to people I know in Chicago, although Rev. Jeremiah Wright prayed for Sen. Barack Obama and his family upon him making the decision to run for president, he was not in Springfield when Barack made the announcement. Why? Supposedly, he was uninvited. Word is, Reverend Wright has felt slighted ever since. I can understand the kind of personal jolt of disappointment that comes with being asked NOT to be a part of something. But then, I also expect a man of Rev. Wright's experience, and knowledge of black history to understand the BIGGER picture. As an elder in the tradition, you can't discount his struggle or his right to speak his mind. He owes Barack Obama nothing. But he does owe the black collective everything, including the chance to seize the moment and in some way validate all those years of struggle. We aren't here to run for president, just to run this time. We're here to win, and there's a way you have to go about that.

As a black man, I understand that wanting Barack to win means he can't lead with the black issue. It means he has to frame race in an inclusive national conversation that doesn't alienate his huge pool of much needed white voters. It means Barack has to mean all things to all people, therefore, he can't JUST mean what we need him to mean to blacks. With that understanding comes the trust, that although Barack has to show duality, he won't lose sight of our issues. And although he can't speak out against America the way we can, he does understand where we're coming from, and is dedicated to doing something about it. Black people know and have accepted this paradox. We also know and understand that Rev. Wright has the right to speak out publicly, the way we do privately. But not at the expense of our brotha. And after all the turmoil the "chickens coming home to roost" comments caused, comments Sen. Obama denounced but seemed to give Rev. Wright the benefit of the doubt for, Wright's decision to go public for three days, can only be described with one word. Sabotage.

It would appear there is a huge ploy set in motion to keep the black community split, to keep our attention off REAL ISSUES, while we take sides as to which of our brothas we'll support. I refuse to choose. Rev. Wright is our brotha. I can even say I tend to agree with about 80% of the things he says. In the context of race, American has failed black people from its inception. And as blacks, we should never lose sight of this. And until America stops failing us, we should continue to speak out, lash out, and make sure America is held accountable. We also must keep our eyes on the prize.

Sen. Barack Obama is our brotha too. And never have we had a man who truly understands our culture, and our issues, so close to becoming the president. It's a once in a lifetime chance and we cannot afford to let this opportunity pass us by. Sen. Obama has infused energy into a new generation because he's not bringing the baggage of the civil rights era, so his message seems fresh, and isn't disregarded as antiquated. He's also not leading with the kind of militant rants that disenfranchise white voters. So he's embraced, even in places like Idaho. It appears Barack is a new species of black leader, one that has the support of a lot of different people, yet still needs the support of us.

Barack's campaign is far more diverse than any party I've ever thrown. And as the host, his loyalty is and should be to the collective, not the individual. It's crunch time, and the longer Rev. Wright hangs around, the more people we'll see grabbing their coats and heading for the door. So sorry Rev. Wright, my brotha, love you like a play cousin on my momma's side. But much like my boy who gets drunk and talks too much sh*t at the party, your ass has got to go too. One luv.