Far Better Men than I: My Vision for My Sons

I apologize for waiting so late to post today; however, it appears that someone has officially declared today “Let’s Pile on Max Day.” Some are trying hard to shake me from my usual aplomb, but all they have succeeded in doing is wasting my time and theirs. Days like this only make me stronger. Sometimes people are so miserable themselves that for someone to be so audacious as to be happy and content in their presence makes them even more miserable.

But I didn’t get to compose anything new, so I will just leave this piece that appeared as a guest post on the site Womanist Musings. And please, love yourself today and be a blessing to somebody.

I have been composing this narrative in my head for several weeks now. However, I always push it to the rear, lowering it in priority, until I look into the face of my fourteen year old son or until the phone rings and I see my oldest son’s number on the caller ID.
But I am lost for a way in; I simply do not know where to begin. But so that I might see this project through to completion, I’ll just jump in by positing this question: “What does it mean to be a man?”

Most of what I learned about being a man, I learned from the women in my life, ironically often in those spaces often relegated to women.

As I sat next to my grandmother watching her sew, she would lovingly question me and advise me. She would tell me what was expected of me. She would tell me how I should conduct myself.
As I helped my aunts clean by moving this piece or that piece of furniture so they could sweep or vacuum behind it, they would compliment me on my spirit. They told me I had a good spirit, a gentle spirit, a giving spirit. They warned me that people would want me to change. But they admonished me not to change. My aunts ensured me that the world needed more men with just those attributes.

And it was my mother who gave me the gift of reading and writing. I am not sure when I began to read, but from my earliest cognizance, books were there, and later she encouraged me to write despite my father insisting that I play outside with the other boys, despite my father insisting that all this “work and no play” would cause me to grow up weak and effeminate.

But she would gently rebuke him, and explain to him that what the world needed was more men who could think, who could reason; the world was populated with too many men who valued brawn over brains. And often he would respond with the question of what kind of man would I end up being if I stayed in the house under women all the time. But he would acquiesce nevertheless.

And watching him, listening to him, all the while the question hung in the back of my mind, “Just what does it mean to be a man?”

I am not saying that the men in my life did not have a huge influence over the person I have become, but while the lessons taught by the women in my life were more explicit, were more like a dialogue, the lessons taught by the men were more one-sided and sometimes contradictory. Often what they said was accompanied by a nod and a wink. Often I was confused when what they said conflicted with their actions. Perhaps, I was confused because their method of instruction left more questions than answers.

No experience is more demonstrative of this than that when I left home at the age of seventeen to enter the military.

I had finished high school, but because of my age, my parents had to sign for me which much to my surprise, they did. I am not certain why I made this decision; I had numerous other opportunities, to include a full ride college scholarship, I could have pursued. But I felt I had to do this. I felt I had to leave home to find myself as a man.

And on the eve of my departure, the male elders of my family—my surviving grandfather, my father, and a host of uncles—assembled to advise me and send me off. As they stood in a semi-circle with me sitting in a chair at the center, one by one they gave me advice, sought to inspire me, and bade me goodbye.

Before that moment when the first speaker spoke, I was unaware of the gravity of my decision. And by the time my favorite uncle, my mother’s youngest brother, rose to give the closing speech, tears of apprehension were streaming down my face. He closed his speech with the charge—I still remember it know as if it were yesterday—“In every and all things, be a man. Always be a man.”

Through tears I asked him, “What does it mean to be a man?” He looked to the faces in the crowd for an answer who all looked at my grandfather, the elder male present. My grandfather stood thoughtfully, pulled on his hat and told me that this was my journey; it was up to me to determine what it meant to be a man.

And with that piece of sage like wisdom the men filed pass me, each pausing to look me in my eyes, give me a firm handshake, a pat on the back. I returned the gesture, but what I really wanted, what I really needed was for one of them, any one of them, to put his arms around me and tell me it would be alright. And with that I set off to answer the question for myself.

Along the way I have made a good many mistakes. Along the way, I have hurt some people, and I have been hurt in return. Along the way, there have been many days when I have cheered in triumph and on others I have lowered my head in defeat. Many days I have sung out loud and with glee, “I shot the sheriff, and on a few others I have found myself singing “Sweet Jesus, please be my friend.”

And I have learned that I cannot define my manhood by my sexual prowess or the number of sexual partners I have. I cannot define my manhood by the power I am able to exert over people. I cannot define my manhood by the amount of money I make, the car I drive, the size of my house, or by what I possess.

But I can define my manhood by the number of lives I have touched, the number of lives I have made better. I can define my manhood by the look of love and respect I see in the eyes of my wife and children. But most of all I can define my manhood for myself and without any outside cultural and societal paradigms.

I am still learning. I am still evolving. However, I think I have the most basic understanding of this thing now. I think that I can finally offer my sons the definition, the vision of manhood that was denied me. But most of all I know that before they leave my house, I will put my arms around them, I will pull them tight to me, and I will let them know that it will all work out in the end; it will be alright. And then hope against all hope that someday they grow to be better men than I.

Seven Web Resources for African American Men Wishing to Make a Difference

I have received more than a few emails from people stating they would like to get involved by mentoring young African American men and/or giving whatever assistance is necessary in the community or they would like to become better acquainted with the issues facing African American men and boys. So to that end, I have put together a list of sites.

1. Being a Black Man

If you don’t follow any other link on this page, you must follow this one. This site has collected a number of different media resources as part of an on-going series featured in The Washington Post and on washingtonpost.com exploring the experience of being a black man in America. The narrative of this experience is told via interviews with both celebrities and average brothers alike as well as articles and written narratives. You can also leave your own thoughts and questions, and better still, space is given for African American women to have a voice in the conversation.

In addition, the articles from The Washington Post featured in the series have been collected in an anthology, Being a Black Man: At the Corner of Progress and Peril. This is one I am definitely purchasing for my library. [Click here to explore site.]

2. Concerned Black Men

Concerned Black Men’s stated philosophy is one of men offering themselves as positive role models to children. The program works to provide mentors and programs in communities so that the care and discipline requisite in the lives of all youth is affirmed. In addition, the program offers opportunities for academic and career enrichment. [Click here to explore site.]

3. Urban Leadership Institute

The Urban Leader Institute is part of an initiative that aspires to give voice to all youth as well as extend to them an opportunity to exercise their innate leadership abilities, collectively affect change, and create a safe environment, thus inspiring a youth movement. [Click here to explore site.]

4. Mybrotha.COM

Mybrotha.com offers information and education content to empower African-American men and Black men worldwide. [Click here to explore site.]

5. Black Men in America

This site offers visitors a forum to exchange information on a variety of subjects and issues concerning African American men. [Click here to explore site.]

6. Future Black Men of America, Inc.

As stated on the site, “Future Black Men of America, Inc. (FBMA) is an organization designed to improve the quality of life for African American males.” [Click here to explore site.]

7. XY Online

XY Online concentrates not only on African American men, but on issues facing all men. For those doing gender related research, this is an invaluable resource. According to the site, “XY is…focused on men, masculinities, and gender politics. XY is a space for the exploration of issues of gender and sexuality, the daily issues of men’s and women’s life, and practical discussion of personal and social change. [Click here to explore site.]

And as always, this site is in no way comprehensive. If you know of any sites or resources I somehow neglected, just leave them in the comments section.

UPDATE:

This was dropped off by DC Dating Adventures:

In you are in the DC area, there is a non-profit called BUILD looking for mentors for high school students. The non-profit teaches kids in under resourced communities hot to start a business. The program also focuses on college admissions and begins in the 9th grade.

Here's the website for more info & their mission statement.

web: www.build.org

Metro dc blog: http://buildmetrodc.blogspot.com

Mission: BUILD is a four-year entrepreneurship-focused college preparation program whose mission is to provide real-world entrepreneurial experience that empowers youth from under-resourced communities to excel in education, lead in their communities, and succeed professionally. By helping students develop and run their own small businesses, BUILD supplements traditional school with real-world business experiences and critical skill-building for the future.

Thank you, DCDA.

Is the 110% Rule Still Valid as a Means to Success for Black Men?

When I was a young man, my grandfather, my father, and my uncles all at some time or another pulled me aside and informed me of the secret of success as a black man. Perhaps, my mother’s youngest brother, my Uncle Teddie, put it most succinctly. He simply told me that if I planned to be successful, whatever setting I found myself in, I should find the white boy out front, and then perform as well as he did plus ten. He called it the 110% rule; if a black man was to be successful, he had to give 110%. Any thing less was not sufficient.

And he went on: If it was a foot race, I should finish at least ten paces in front just to assure my victory. If it was in the classroom, long after the white boy went to bed, I should remain up studying just to assure I got a better mark. In anything and everything, as a black man, I would have to work that much harder, I would need do at least ten percent better, if I was to succeed.

They repeated it often enough and emphatically enough that I had no choice but to believe and internalize this dictum. And its effects were both good and bad. For one, it indelibly shaped my work ethic. I knew going into any given situation, any new setting, what I was in for, what was expected of me. I knew that there was no margin for error and excuses were not acceptable; I had to give my very best and then some. I was always driven to succeed, to finish out front, in everything I did.

However, on the downside, there were some negative consequences as well. First of all, to believe you are carrying the weight of a race on your back, to believe that the future of a race is somehow dependent on your success or failure, is a terrible onus indeed. And I abused my body badly. Often I pushed myself well past exhaustion, as I sometime do to this day. There have been times when sickness or injury should have logically forced me to slow down or, at the very least, stop for a minute to allow my body to heal; however, I did not.

And much of my life I have had problems sleeping through the night; I always seem to remember something I left undone or unfinished and sleep will not come until I am either too tired to carry on, or the task is close enough to completion to assuage my conscience.

But looking back, I agree with those men in my life who taught me the 110% rule. Implicit in that rule is the notion that to succeed at anything, you must give your very best. I thank them whole-heartedly for taking the time out to impart that kernel of wisdom. However, is that rule still valid? And if so, is it still even being taught?

I have spoken to a number of men who have told me that they were taught differing versions of the same rule. If fact, it seems that at one time this rule was generally understood within the black community. However, when I go out into inner city communities now, the governing rule, the guiding mentality, seems to be to do as little as possible in expectation of as big a payoff as possible.

Ironically, I have witnessed individuals seemingly work twice as hard simply trying to keep from doing anything at all. I have witnessed individuals devise absolutely brilliant schemes to make a little money illegally when if those schemes and energy were directed toward a more legitimate end, the individual would perhaps end up richer than their wildest dreams.

But this seemingly has become ethos of the inner city; the hustla’ lifestyle is celebrated in deed and song, but the what strikes me as strange is that it appears from where I am sitting that it takes more time and energy and frustration getting out of work, than it would to simply put your nose to the grindstone and push forward.

However, I do understand that escaping the inner city is not easy feat. I do understand that there are numerous obstacles and roadblocks strewn along the pathway out. And I do realize that sometimes despite all the effort in the world, you can still fall short of your goals, but if you are trying, if you are giving your all then some, even if you fall short of your goal, you’ll still find yourself in the end way out front.

Now if we can only find enough men willing to go into the inner city and sit with one or two young men and pass this lesson along, repeating it often enough and emphatically enough that the hearer has not choice but to believe it and internalize it.

Just Gathering My Strength (Calling on the Ancestors)

On Sunday I alluded to those men who have gone before me who have contributed, either directly or indirectly, to the man I have become. My maternal grandfather, Linzie “Sam” Butler, was one of those men.

He passed on very early in my life. In fact, I suddenly realize that when he passed, he was just about the same age I am now. And of all of his grandchildren, I have the singular distinction of having met him, having sat with him, having talked with him, having been blessed by him. He is who I measure myself against. And I always stop to ask myself, will I ever be as great a man as he?

It’s funny how a child’s perception works. When I was a child, I could have sworn that he was well over six feet tall. I could have sworn he was a giant. However, just last evening while I was going through some papers, I found that he was not much taller than I am now.

But he worked hard, very hard all his life, much harder and under conditions that I could not imagine having to endure. Perhaps he worked so hard then so that I would not have to work so hard now.

And with the little he had, he managed to do great things. He began as a sharecropper, but he managed to finally own his own farm, his own piece of land, his own home. He also managed to raise six children and see to it that all six went to college, and four even went on to receive advanced degrees.

How did he manage to do so much with so little, at least far less than I have right now?

Toward the end of his life, when his death was imminent, no one told me. Perhaps as a child, I would not have understood. Perhaps, I would not have believed it, or maybe I would have been overcome by just the thought. But I know now when the life began to leave him. I know now when the struggle became too great.

He was a man who was perpetually in motion. Very seldom did he just sit still. He slowed down only so I might catch up to him; he shortened his stride only so that I might keep up with him, so that I might walk at his side. But suddenly I would find him around the house, in the yard, just sitting, staring into space trying to catch his breath.

And I would playfully smile at him, and ask him, “Granddaddy, whatcha’ doin’?”

And he would smile back at me. I still remember that smile. He had one tooth missing right there in front. The gleam would momentarily return to his eye, and with what strength he had left, he would lift me unto his lap and hug me and say to me, “Nothing, son. Just sitting here for spell gathering my strength is all. Just sitting here gathering my strength.”

So, I may be tired, perhaps as tired as he was then. And sometimes I feel like just giving it up, throwing in the towel, just living quietly here with my wife and children and take life as it comes, as it’s given to me. But I feel I owe it to my grandfather to be that much better. I owe it to my grandfather to go just that much farther. I think I owe it to my grandfather to leave a proud legacy to my children just as he left to me so that they might pass that legacy to their children, so that they might pass to their children and so on.

So, at this very moment I am tired. Very tired. I wonder if my grandfather was ever this tired, as tired as I am now, or everyday of his life he may have been this tired, this beat.

But I am going to say to my children, to those that look up to me, those that depend on me, those looking to me for guidance and inspiration, just let me just sit here a spell and gather my strength. Just give me a moment to catch my breath, and shortly, I’ll be alright and prepared to move onward and upward with you walking beside me, matching me stride for stride.

39 lessons for boys [Guest post by Kenn Bivins]

Guest blogger Kenn Bivins spends some quality time with his two sons.

This first appeared on Kenn Bivins’ eponymous blog, kenn bivins. I have always admired Kenn's work because the absolute love of affection he has for his sons seems to color everything he does.

Additionally, Kenn has the singular distinction of being the very first reader to leave a comment on my blog when I started back in March of this year. I still have that comment saved in my email. Thanks for your support, Kenn!

The legacy of a father is what he leaves in his stead for his children. I love my sons (and nephews) and at age 39, the following are 39 lessons or observations I hope to teach (or have taught) them. This is, by no means, a comprehensive list.

1. manhood is earned, not inherited

2. there is a God

3. you are not Him

4. but God did make you special

5. give more than you take

6. don’t run with the crowd, unless you’re the leader

7. make your life, your work

8. never make work, your life

9. failure is a sign that you’re trying

10. never never never give up

11. no one owes you anything

12. true education starts after school ends

13. money is not equal to success

14. never lose self-control (unless you want to)

15. healthy relationships are built on communication which leads to trust

16. physical confrontation with a girl/woman = lose/lose odds

17. credit card debt is a brutal master

18. if you can’t afford it with cash, save for it or pass it by

19. learning starts with leaving your comfort zone

20. invest in teaching others what you learn

21. love yourself before you expect a girl/woman to love you

22. never point a gun that you’re not prepared to shoot

23. some fights are best won by walking away

24. don’t judge others just because they are different from you

25. learn from the mistakes of others

26. save more than you spend

27. girls/women think completely different from you

28. celebrate the differences

29. give respect to others

30. let your presence command respect from all

31. give thanks daily for what you have

32. it’s okay to cry

33. smile more than you frown

34. stand up straight

35. (almost always) tell the truth

36. look people in the eyes when you talk to them

37. self-discipline comes from you and only you

38. always consider the consequence

39. seek God always

A Thank You Note to My Father and Black Men Everywhere [Guest post by Charles J.]

I received this post from my good friend Charles J. last week. This post is responsible for me reconsidering my point of view and taking the time to [re]find and refine my voice. Sometimes even an old, stubborn man can learn from a young, wise man.

Before I sat down and began to write, I wasn’t sure what to write about. I was going to write about how black men need to step up and be fathers to their children. I was going to talk about the numbers of brothers in jail. I even started along these lines, but before long I bored myself and felt as though I was sounding redundant.

Then I thought about my own childhood. I grew up in a two parent household. My father was there for me and still is here for me now, so instead of writing and downing more black men ala Bill Cosby. I just wanted to say thank you to my father and to the other Black fathers (biological or otherwise).

Too often we hear there are no more good Black men out there, but I disagree. I feel too often we tend to extend our appreciation to those who have been indispensible to us throughout our lives only when they are dead instead of giving them their accolades while still here on earth. So here goes…

First I would like to begin with my own father. Thank you, Dad, for loving me and allowing me to make mistakes. Thank you for trying to teach me how to throw a ball even though I never got really good at it. Thank you for enrolling me in acting classes at the age of ten when you saw that I preferred music and arts better than a bat and ball. Many fathers would have been disappointed at my preference, but you were not. Thank you for being a living example of how to treat my future wife by treating my mother with the utmost love and respect.

When I needed you, you were there. When I cried, you dried my tears and calmed my fears. You taught me manhood is not about what’s between my legs but what’s between my ears. Because of you I walk taller and work harder. You don’t think you hear this enough.

And this message is also for every good black man out there who is doing it right. It seems we hear most often about those who are not acting as men. We hear about those who have selfishly shrugged off their responsibilities. But as a son, nephew, cousin and mentee of many good black men, thank you all for just being you. Keep up the good work.

Charles J

Because I Am Preceded by Much Greater Men than I: [Re]Finding/Refining My Voice

I began Black Men and Boys Week last week with the greatest expectations. I put much time and effort into writing what I thought to be genuinely honest and thought provoking posts, and I enlisted a host of other people to make submissions as well.

But as I was scheduling the posts, I began to notice a trend. The admissions I received were for the most part negative in tone. Some were almost scolding even. Even I composed all my posts from a deficit model, meaning I wrote from the stance that African American men are in deep trouble; they face issues such as an rising rate of imprisonment, failing relationships and a seeming reluctance to marry, lagging behind in education, lagging behind in job skills and marketability, an increasing rate of senseless and increasingly brutal violence, and the list goes on and on.

And this all my be true; however, I absolutely abhor arguing from a deficit model, and I have always resisted writing from such a model in the past. No one wants to be reminded of their shortcomings and to argue from such a model, especially when seeking a solution, is often counterproductive. In addition, it obfuscates and obscures the achievements and the positive steps forward by black men.

So, at the risk of leaving my page blank, I had to step back and reload. I would rather put something I thought to be worthwhile on my page or just put nothing at all. I had to [re]find and refine my voice, and in doing so, I realized that I can get across the same message by celebrating black men and boys, as I could by criticizing them.

In fact, by reversing the paradigm, by writing from a positive as opposed to negative point of view would free me to use my greatest gifts, my strengths in arguing for the need to [re]define African American manhood, the ways in which black men and boys see themselves in relation to the nation and the world.

I realized that I am who I am only because I am preceded by greater men than I, who while sometimes facing almost insurmountable obstacles, challenges that I might have possibly withered in the face of, proved themselves as giants among men.

Some of these men I knew personally. Some I share a common bloodline with. Some I have read about only in books, in biographies and autobiographies. Some of the names are famous, celebrated, while others are more obscure. Some of the names can be found in history books, while others exist only in my memory.

But nevertheless they left a legacy that I, that we, can be proud of. They left behind a blueprint for uplift and success. And it would be perhaps arrogant of me to scold other black men, to take such a pedantic tone in speaking of them, with them, to them. Because everything I am, everything I have been able to achieve has been because of other black men who preceded me who were perhaps greater than I can ever hope to be.

Web-based Resources for the Parents and Educators of Young Black Males

In an effort to provide additional information and resources to those raising young black males, I have put together a list of web resources that I hope you will find useful in that regards. This list is in no ways comprehensive; I am sure there are more than a few I may have missed. So, if you know of any additional links, please leave them in the comments section.

Raising Him Alone

The is perhaps the most comprehensive site providing resources and support for single mothers raising boys. The site includes empowerment activities, various multi-media resources, parenting resources and strategies, and date and research.

If you are a mother raising a son alone, this is a site you cannot afford to overlook. Also, if you are on Facebook, you can join the site’s Facebook group. [Click here to access site.]

Tied to Greatness

Tied to Greatness is the official site for the Tied to Greatness National Tour that seeks to improve the self-image and esteem of at-risk, inner-city males. The site gives a comprehensive overview of the tour to include a video presentation.

The site also includes a listing of volunteer opportunities as well as links to a number of articles aimed at improving the lives of young black males.

If you work for or are in charge of an institution or organization serving young black males, then you should definitely give this site a look. It might be worth the time and effort to encourage the tour to visit your institution or organization. [Click here to access site.]

The Black Star Project

The Black Star Project was founded for the expressed purpose of improving the quality of life in the black and Latino communities of Chicago and nationwide by eliminating the racial achievement gap.

The site contains a comprehensive overview of the program in addition to a catalogue of means by which you can get involved. [Click here to access site.]

Resources for Parents and Teachers Working with Boys and Young Men

This resource is in the PDF format and includes an extensive list of videos to watch with the young male in your charge, books for boys to have read to them or read themselves. The list was compiled in an effort to drive rich, provocative discussions. [Click here to access PDF.]

junior the Magazine

junior the Magazine is billed as the premier resource guide for engaged parents and educators of boys 9 to 19. junior features resources, feature columns from leading experts, informative articles and product reviews. [Click here to access site.]

Offering an Alternative Paradigm: Young American American Men and the Prison System

I scheduled this post to run later in the week; however, I thought it would be a logical follow-up to the conversation on yesterday. And thank you to those who happened by and thank you to those who contributed to the conversation.

On Friday, November 27, 1989, the day after Thanksgiving, a police officer from the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office came to my home, and in front of my children and wife, he arrested me in a case of mistaken identity.

Ironically, the white arresting officer recognized it to be a case of mistaken identity, but the African American sergeant who arrived on the scene shortly after simply looked at me, looked at my family, looked at my home and neighborhood, and then with an unmistaken look of contempt on his face, told the white officer to take me in anyway. The white officer protested, but the African American sergeant just sneered and told him we would work it out at the station.

So, I was taken down to the city jail. I was booked. I was fingerprinted. I was photographed. And for the next twelve hours, I sat in a cell awaiting bail to be set.

When my wife picked me up from the station, she was hoarse from having yelled and screamed for twelve hours straight in the face of anyone and everyone at the city jail. But I was calm, too calm for her. So, she demanded to know why I was not angrier, why I was not absolutely infuriated at my treatment. I tried to explain it to her; I tried to articulate my emotions, but she could not be made to understand.

In a word, I felt relieved. Not relieved to have finally made it out of jail, but finally relieved to have made it into jail. You see, by the time I was arrested, I had witnessed so many young black men go to jail, and I had worked with so many young black men who, despite my and others’ greatest efforts, ended up in jail, that I actually began wondering why I was yet to go to jail.

The more I achieved, the more I realized some measure of success, the more apprehensive I got. The more frightened I became. And it all didn’t make sense because when I was growing up, prison, or as my grandmother called it—the pen, was frowned on. It was shameful. If a family member happened to go to “the pen,” then the family lied and said he was in East St. Louis or something. If he was from East St. Louis, then the family lied and said he was down South.

But my point is this: Despite my upbringing, despite my education, despite my achievements, if all that was going on around me, if all I witnessed could work to convince me that going to jail was inevitable as a young black man, what must those young African American men still stuck in inner-city, crime infested neighborhoods, those still under the thumb of poverty, feel. What do they believe their life prospects to be?

It appears to me that incarceration or having family members incarcerated has become an all too familiar part of African American lives. I read somewhere that for young African American males, going to jail has become almost a rite of passage. And remnants of prison culture are creeping into the mainstream culture, for instance the sagging pants and tattoos.

But we all know how ruinous a prison record can be, what an absolutely devastating effect a prison record can have on a young person’s future.

But the challenge then becomes to counter this normalization of deviancy with another paradigm. For all those images of deviancy we must counter with images of success and acheivement. I believe that those of us who have managed to make it out, those of us who have managed to achieve some measure of success, have an unequivocal responsibility to return and serve as role models, as mentors, for those still looking for a way out.

Have you had an experience similar to mine? What do you think can be done to reduce the number of young African American men entering the prison system?

Additional web resource: Genpop.org

Black Men and Boys Week Continues: Can a woman raise a man?

Today is day one of Black Men and Boys week, and the question we will be exploring today is whether or not women can effectively raise men.

I wrote a piece a while back entitled “Spoiling Our Daughters and Raising Our Sons” in which I discussed my propensity to come down hard on my sons while acquiescing to my daughters’ every whim in an effort to raise strong, productive men and without realizing the effect this might be having on my daughters.

I knew when I composed the piece that my experience might be unique to me. In working with young people from the inner-city, most often the case is reversed. I find myself working with young men in need of guidance who are being raised by single mothers. And most often these mothers are simply spoiling these young men rotten much to their detriment.

So, I did anticipate the possibility that a number of readers would speak out of an experience very dissimilar to my own; however, I did not anticipate the sheer number of readers who would do so. As I watched a conversation around the post develop on twitter, some suggested that my experience was not representative of the African American experience at all. Someone even suggested that I had created an alternate reality with me at the center.

But the reality is that the majority of households in the African American community are headed by African American women. In fact, the last reliable statistic I could find approximated that about fifty-four percent of African American households are headed solely by African American women. And implicit in that statement is that within those households there are surely to be young African American men, and there is perhaps no way to determine how many of these young men being raised in woman headed households have little or no contact with their fathers.

I mentioned this fact to a friend, someone who has been my professional mentor for many years, who then launched into a diatribe citing this fact as the major factor in the number of young African American men caught up in the legal system and/or who are poorly equipped to contribute to the community or the culture in a positive way.

Of course I disagreed with him. And in doing so I cited the scores of African American men I knew or had encountered who had been raised solely by women but had managed to become successful, who had managed to break the cycle of poverty. Additionally, I reminded him that in many of these homes, though there was no father present, no man present, surely there were “other fathers.” There were grandfathers and uncles, teachers and coaches, even mentors like myself who could serve as role models for these young men.

I still remember his retort:

“But the home is where the rubber meets the road. What happens within the home is what counts. Max, you could teach these children to walk on water, you could teach them the knowledge of alchemy required to turn water into wine, but keep in mind that you are with them only a few hours a day a couple of days a week. If what you teach them, model for them, try to instill in them is not reinforced in the home, then it goes for naught.”

Then he finished his speech, “You are too naïve, Max. You are too idealistic, Max. Only a woman can raise a woman; only a man can raise a man.”

I respect his point of view, and I value his life experience and wisdom, but I cannot wholly agree with him. Certainly, while I agree that a number of young African American have been spoiled and cuddled to their detriment, I believe this is the exception and not the rule. Furthermore, I believe that perhaps socio-economic factors have a greater impact that anything single mothers may or may not be doing.

When a mother must devote a significant portion of her time to keeping food on the table and a roof over her family’s head, when a mother must devote a significant portion of her time meeting the basic necessities of life, then that is time taken away from time that could be spent going over homework or teaching life lessons or providing the attention and oversight requisite to the rearing of children.

And to my friend and mentor, thank you for everything you have done for me. You have been an invaluable force in my life. You have been wonderful as a mentor, an “other father.” But with me your job was easy. I was already raised when our paths crossed; you just needed to answer the questions to which I had no answer or could not be found in books. Perhaps if you will come with me only a few hours a day, a couple of days a week, then we could really affect change.

Help me with this one. Can a woman effectively raise a man?

And come back later today for other exhibits and artifacts I have in store.

BlogTalkRadio Apperance: Black Men Re-inventing Ourselves

To kick off Black Boys and Men Week here on soulbrother v.2, this evening I will be sitting in on a blogtalkradio panel discussing the various issues black boys and men in this country face. The panel will be moderated by @TheHighRoad.

If you are not familiar with @TheHighRoad, you can get a sense of this devoted husband and father’s efforts to improve the conditions of our communities by going to his site, The High Road, by clicking here.

I really, really need your support on this one; this is a subject that I am very passionate about, and I am sure you will agree that the needs are many. The show will be aired this evening at 5:30 PM EST. Please call in to comment and have a say in the discussion. The call in number is (347)215-9596.

But if you cannot call in, or you will not be able to hear the show live, you can click here to go to the broadcast page to hear a replay or download the podcast.

Picking through the Bones: Should the Past Have Any Bearing on the Future?

This the very last day of Relationship Week. And this week has been tremendously successful from my point of view. I sincerely thank everyone who stopped by, and I especially thank everyone who contributed to the conversation. I will return later today with a final summation of the week and what I have learned.

The notorious Karrine Steffans, better known by the sobriquet Superhead, has been ubiquitous in the media over the past few weeks promoting her latest book, The Vixen Manual: How to Find, Seduce, and Keep the Man You Want. Whatever you have to say about Ms. Steffans, she has mastered the fine art of selling herself, excuse me, self-promotion.

I watched or heard a few of these interviews, and they seem to follow a common theme. She is more than willing to talk about her current book, but should the interviewer bring up the past, she gets all indignant; she refuses to discuss anything of her past. [Click here to see or hear a couple of these interviews via the blog Witches Brew.]

In fact, in one such interview, she evokes the fact that she is now a wife and a mother of two little boys, and castigates the interviewer for bringing up the most sordid episodes of her life in light of that fact. But at this point she loses me.

Has her husband not read or heard of her first book, Confessions of a Video Vixen, in which she describes in detail her many, and I mean many, sexual exploits with entertainers and athletes of every stripe? Does she have a contingency plan for when her two precious little boys eventually ask her why people called their dear mother Superhead?

And in contemplating Ms. Steffans’ dilemma, I am reminded of a recent incident when I was introduced to the fiancé of my frat brother who moved here from out of town. She must have seen my eyes widen and registered the look of shock on my face because from where she stood slightly behind him, she immediately began to vigorously shake her head as if to say “No, please don’t.”

Back when we were undergraduates, she took her role as a sweet very seriously. She was in heavy rotation among the brotherhood, and word was there was no limit to what she would do to keep up the morale.

So, the question quickly becomes that if you were a man, would you or could you marry a woman like Ms. Steffans who has detailed her past sex life in a best-selling book for the world to see. If you are a woman, would you or could you marry a man if in his past he was, hmm, let's say a porn king. Remember the permanence of the written word; years for now that book will still be available for all to read and marvel. Remember the permenance of film. Who might be viewing his celluloid sexual exploits years from now?

But what of my clueless frat brother? He has no idea of his lovely fiancé’s past (and I ain’t about to tell him), but I know one of our brothers will eventually have one drink too many, and the ugly, naked truth will spill out. How will he react, or better still, how should he react?

When Mrs. Reddick and I got married, I never asked her about her past. I felt that what she wanted me to know, she would tell me. Not only that, an older relative, either my grandfather or an uncle, once told me to never ask a question if I were not sure I could handle the answer. And by the time we got married, I had sense enough to listen to the wisdom of old folks. Plus, I had a few bones in my own closet that I did not want to discuss.

But the fact is that we meet people and enter into relationships with people and fall in love with people without ever knowing their full background. Usually, we know only what they want us to know. And everyone has a few bones in their closet. When you see your special someone again, just look at them. And then ask yourself where they are hiding the bones.

Some of the bones are big bones, like of the tyrannosaurus rex variety, and some of the bones are of the smaller variety like those tiny pesky little fish bones you can barely see that threaten to get caught in your throat and choke you to death.

And if you love someone, I mean really and truly love someone, should the past even matter? True love is unconditional, but in the same instance, to forgive someone you must then forget that thing for which you forgive them. But sometimes things tend to get stuck in your head. Sometimes, whether consciously or unconsciously, the scenes tend to play themselves out in your head over and over again. It’s like a snowball rolling down hill. It just gets bigger and bigger and bigger and then the avalanche begins. What then?

At what point does your mate’s past, or your past, threaten the future?

Do you believe that you should know every little detail about your mate’s past? What if you found out something absolutely horrible about your mate’s past? What would you do? How would you react? How does the past affect the future?