THE INTERWEBS

In my quest to emulate two of my favorite people – this guy and my big homie – I took to writing.  My entire goal for writing was/is to work on something that I haven’t done in quite some time.  I was never much of a writer back in college – only to get those pesky papers in on time so that I could graduate.  But, I found myself yearning for something more academic and intellectual in my post-college life.  Yeah, working in education and making a difference in my community is cool and everything

NOBAMA

IF OBAMA GETS RE-ELECTED, CIVIL WAR WILL ENSUE.  BYE, AMERICA.

Kanye West and Booker T. Washington: Two Great African American Leaders

  

As the blog title suggests, I am a Living Contradiction.  Thus, I am inspired and influenced by the most paradoxical of things and my life embodies this absurdity perfectly.  Some of these oxymorons include: listening to Rick Ross while casually reading a book on education policy; both praising and deriding Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta for being a work of art and simultaneously an embarrassment to the African American community; and my love and hatred for what the decade-long gentrification process has done to my beloved neighborhood.  But my ultimate contradiction lies in

Sea Bass, Harry Belafonte, and Generational Divides

This weekend, I was part of a power circle. Lots of proverbial sea bass was consumed and inspiring conversations were had amongst the group I had the honor of getting to know over the last two days.  Included amongst those in attendance – from the many generations of alumni from my college – were lawyers, researchers, business owners, CEO’s, and educators, just to name a few.  What united us all – and I must admit, my career achievements to date certainly do not warrant my place at the table – was the fact that we are all African-American graduates from the same school.  As we discussed our shared experience of having the dubious distinction of being alums of the same alma mater, what was amazing to me was that our college experiences were as vastly different as our professional endeavors.  My college experience in the 9/11 and “post-racial” Obama era differs drastically from those attending college during the Civil Rights or Reagan eras.  And that is ok.   And I, nor my younger classmates, were judged for this.  But it feels as though sometimes, those from older generations deride those from younger generations simply because our experiences are different.  Cue Harry Belafonte.

Rick Ross and Professor Andre 3000

Something momentous happened on July 31^st, 2012.  That something was the embodiment of what this blog represents.  That something beautifully combines the righteous and the ratchet, the ignorant and inspirational.  What happened was the culmination of two years of anxious waiting and extreme anticipation.  That something, ladies and gentlemen,

February, Come Back. Thanks.

Black History Month is my favorite time of the year.  As someone that is unabashedly and unapologetically black some ALL of the time, this is my month-long opportunity to be as obnoxious about my heritage as possible and not feel self-conscious about it.  And I know it’s already July – which amazingly means that we I have about thirty more weeks until the next time I can quote Booker T. and W.E.B. with professor-like precision and pretention, or simply change my last name to the letter X – but February’s 29 days made me think more critically about something interesting that I have noticed about my people:

All blackness ain’t the same.

Why Me? Luck vs. Privilege

Why Me?

This is a question that I often ponder as I reflect and look back at all of the blessings that have come my way in the last quarter century.  It is very humbling to think about where I have come from and where I am today – though there is still so much more that I need to accomplish personally and professionally – but that “why me” question consumes me at times.  Why was I chosen to lead this life?  What about some other equally, or more, talented person who would relish the same types of opportunities?  Were they not as deserving?  Throughout the past week, I’ve had many a conversation with my students, family, and friends about life, jobs, careers, and education and I have come to the realization that (my) life is an exercise in the following:

Privilege

[priv–uh-lij]

noun

1. a right, immunity, or benefit enjoyed only by a person beyond the advantages of most.

Privilege.  Yes.  That nasty p-word that no one in this American meritocracy wants to admit actually makes a difference.  But we all experience this word a little differently and its meaning changes depending on the context. Superficially, I am extremely privileged: I’ve gone to some of the best schools in the nation (including THE best high school and THE best college, but that’s another post for another day if you want to argue); I am college-educated; and I have had the emotional and financial (thanks, mom) support of my family.  As I shared with the students that I work with, many of whom are low-income products of the worst poverty that our country complacently accepts, I have been incredibly privileged in many aspects of my life, something that I am quick to acknowledge has made things in my life a lot easier than for some others, though it has taken me quite some time to fully accept that fact.

But being “privileged” is only half of the story, something that I hope does not discount the work that has been done by myself and those around me (quotations used to accentuate the fact that privilege is absolutely contextual and my three points above wanes in comparison to the generational privilege that others enjoy, but again, another post for another time).  Equally as important at play, I’ve realized, in my life has been:

Luck

[luhk]

noun

1. good fortune; advantage or success, considered as the result of chance.

Luck.  I find myself on this side of the privilege-vs-luck debate as my philosophical and existential self contemplates the meaning of (my) life.  A closer look at the 25 years worth of events that have transpired that have produced the man I am today – the chance meeting with a basketball coach that subsequently led me to going to private school in 11^th grade (editor’s note: I used to be half-way decent on the basketball court); the incredible opportunities and unbelievably extensive network afforded me just because I attended certain schools; the teachers that helped cultivate an active and precocious young mind and saw some semblance of potential; and the parents that fought hard to be in this country and sacrificed everyday to allow me the choice to live the kind of life I want to live – reveals a case study in what luck really means, that “good fortune” that has undoubtedly and graciously come the way of a not-so-rich, inner city, young, black man that worked extremely hard and was ready when that “luck” finally found its way to him.

Without that little bit of luck that I have been so fortunate to have, I would never be in the privileged position that I am in today.  My plans are to use the opportunities I have been given to make this world a better place for those that look like me but were never able to catch the breaks that I’ve been able to take advantage of.  What about you?  Do you ever look back and wonder how you got to where you are today?  How has privilege impacted your life?  Speak yo’ peace.  Word.

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