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latino

John Legend

Dear John Legend,

Last night at the Avery Hall in Lincoln Center (NYC), you and Common headlined an awesome town hall between some of the brightest and influential Black / Latino men in education. The line-up read like a starting roster for a hypothetical NYC Black educator panel: David Banks of the Eagle Academy as moderator, followed by Dr. Pedro Noguera, Common, Dr. Marc Lamont Hill, Ruben Diaz Jr., and Eric Snow. On paper, the roster was dynamic and possibly influential enough to break some ground on the topic of the moment: why the system has failed men of color in education. While I don’t expect much for Teach for America, I know plenty of educators from that system that have done good things for their children.

Having said that, you, my friend, did not bring your A game.

You brought a set of talking points akin to the wonks that, in changing public education, have silenced the voices of the most underprivileged. Your assertion that students who don’t do well on the standardized state tests are not ready for the real world conflict with real life, where no one asks you in the job force to fill out a bunch of bubbles to do the best job possible. Your case study about that one school that did so well with passing the test doesn’t say much about how they’ll do in the future nor does it coincide with the reality of education as a whole, where charter schools only make up 5% of NYC public schools. Your vision of the perfect school and how that aligns to the educrat movement sound more like a page out of a war stratagem than public school reform, with your talk of “getting rid of teachers.”

Nevermind that the policies of charter schools directly influence public schools in the area. For one, charter schools have more choice as to who gets in, and who leaves. Public schools have more paperwork in that respect. Charter schools thusly don’t house as many ELLs or children with special needs as public schools do. Plus, where do they go when they’re not deemed fit to attend this prestigious school? Public school, of course. Worse still is that the correlation between the amount of charter schools popping up and the amount of Black and Latino children in the neighborhood in which they arrive is pretty high.

A part of me wants to understand, too. Men of color do not exist monolithically. The depth and breadth of opinion within this demographic might make outside observers blush. We have so many routes by which to attack the issue of Black men that the one path we should all choose gets distorted by various interests and beliefs. That much, I believe. Even my attendance to an event sponsored by an organization I don’t fully support shows the complexity of education right now. Plus, not many in the audience (excluding me) expected you to know much about the plight of Black men in education outside of the banalities of men of color failing.

There, your opinion failed. Unfortunately, you were Soulja Boy in the middle of a catalogue battle between Jay-Z and Lupe Fiasco. A recent Golden Gloves championship winner discussing boxing with Muhammad Ali and Mike Tyson. That’s why, no matter how talented a musician you are, people could see through the distortions and false-ttos. Upon entering the Empire City, please note that, while the house is owned by people who readily accept what you say as fact, the neighborhood is guarded by watchmen who’ll boo you the minute you get it wrong.

Take that weak stuff outta here.

Jose, who doesn’t do personal attacks. This is purely professional …

p.s. – Part 2 tomorrow (and some takeaways) …

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Arturo Schomburg by Marcano García at Taller Borinquen

A few weeks ago, a few people asked me why I helped create the now annual event Quisqueya, a celebration of Afro-Latino history throughout the Americas at Syracuse University. Honestly, it had a tinge of selfishness: by then, I helped run a series of workshops dedicated to understanding the relationships between Blacks and Latinos at a time when others kept seeing schisms. Plus, my Dominican-Haitian background spurred me to explore that in a more open forum, i.e. a celebration where I could subliminally prove that schism false. It’s also the most obvious representation of Blacks and Latinos on the same “field”, whereas other lands in the Americas aren’t known for this dual identity, even with the plethora of races occupying Brazil, Peru, Colombia, or Mexico, for instance.

To wit, as the education chair of La LUCHA at the time, I never got asked why it made sense to have such an event; it was obvious how much unity such an event would bring on a campus where the split even existed within organization of mutual interest. The questions of whether I should lead a Latino organization enraged me at the start of my tenure, but instead of taking a reactionary stance against the critics, most of whom never confronted me personally, I decided to take to the streets, finding ways to build bridges in spaces where I didn’t even know I could fit in.

As with any of these experiences, I learned something critical to my formation: the idea of Quisqueya.

“Quisqueya” is a word I’d known so commonly because Dominicans often referred to their part of the island as such. As it turns out, while La LUCHA and the Haitian American Student Association sought funding for Hispaniola, the original name of the aforementioned event, one of the members of the committee pulled us aside and asked us to change the name of the program to Quisqueya. Whereas Hispaniola is a name placed upon the island by people who never originated from there, Quisqueya (or Kiskeya, or “mother earth”) was a name the Tainos used to designate for the entire island, before the countries occupying the island split it into the current countries they are now. That made more sense for the purposes of the event, so we kept it.

This serendipitous lesson on Quisqueya planted the seed for me to go to an event at the Arturo Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture at Harlem. It’s the first time I’d ever been to the museum, and the first time I’d ever heard about him. Naturally, I was annoyed for a bit because, even after I’d met so many  intelligent men and women in Syracuse U, no one ever told me about this man.

I think it was Howard Dodson Jr., head of the Schomburg Center, who said it best when he mentioned that Arturo Alfonso Schomburg’s history was often ignored and ostracized when it came to Black history. He alluded to the fact that his contributions to Black history were only recognized later on in his career, even with the many allies he had. Thus, it was almost ironic to see that the primary center for Black history is under his name. Once equipped with knowledge, Schomburg found purpose for his work when others didn’t, or didn’t think he was the one who should do it. As a Puerto-Rican immigrant (an Afro-Borinquen at that), he had tons of battles, primarily for identity and membership.

For me, these were the most important contributions to history as a whole: he not only validated Black history, documenting and preserving the important parts of a history still not regularly integrated into our society, but he also validated Afro-Latinos as an essential part of Latino and African Diaspora history, because, while he may not have had the voice, he certainly had the knowledge, proof positive that history shouldn’t simply pass us by.

By being proactive in one’s history, you eventually become an integral part of that.

Jose, who should always write like this when we have snow days …

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Me Looking Out

A week or so ago, I ended a blog entry about my appearance at GothamSchools.org’s fundraiser likeso:

While at times in that gathering, while chewing on some wonderful chocolate chip cookies, I mulled over whether a Black / Latino man severely outnumbered ethnically and culturally in the many educational arenas I’m involved in even really belonged in this set, I couldn’t help but feel like part of a community genuinely interested in bringing positive change to life through this relatively new media.

That’s mostly true, and in my heart of hearts, I’d like to tone down the color consciousness in favor of understanding how many true and sui generis teachers and administrators, promulgating fantastic ideas, and continuing to push a larger agenda of honest education reform here and across the states.

And then it hit me: I might be in a small handful of Black / Latino bloggers who people consider part of this edublog echelon. That scares me.

I didn’t pay much attention to this fact until I saw the latest nominees for The Edublog Awards, a forum I’ve rarely ventured except when asked to do so. I often find that award nominations of this caliber in any arena often help to read the pulse of its constituents, sifting through millions of published bytes by the same process that a microwave heats popcorn. They have as little control over how people vote as the Black Weblog Awards does (except in how they choose nominees, I assume).

I’m neither claiming discrimination nor racism on the part of the organizers, simply because omission from the popular vote works just as well on the Internet as in real life. I’m simply stating that this digital divide even within the edublogosphere makes even the most popular among us question the representation of “popular” as a whole.

The digital divide here not only exists with Black and Latino children and children from urban districts, but also Black and Latino teachers, many of whom still fear the negative effects of putting their efforts on the Internet. Then again, if we think about the digital divide amongst Black and Latino children with access to technology compared to their White counterparts, we still see a big gap, even with all the initiatives used to decrease that gap. This will inevitably add another dimension to the already stratified experiences of education for different groups of students.

The same can be said for teacher bloggers.

Personally, I understand many of the questions Black and Latino teachers have about using blogs and other technology not under Microsoft’s domain. I thusly admit to a few advantages I have compared to other teachers of my culture(s):

  1. I have a degree in computer science, so I don’t have trepidations about technology or information.
  2. I have a good eye for web design, so I don’t worry too much about making things look presentable.
  3. I’m younger, so I grew up with some tech savvy.
  4. I’m also situated somewhere that has a strong union that (however controversial) actually fights to make sure I get due process for whatever I may say and / or do. (here’s hoping the UFT sticks to their guns here.)
  5. I have some serious cojones. Either that or I never developed a real off-switch.
  6. I’ve been told I can write.

Yet, my nervousness lies with knowing just how many strides teachers have made in helping build a movement online pedagogically, professionally, and technologically, evolving the image of “teacher” in many off-shoot but assorted versions that put holes through the silhouette of the aforementioned image with speed … and Black and Latino teacher bloggers have often been overlooked in that process BECAUSE we are so few and far between.

What’s more amusing about this whole thing is that the White educators who I have met have frequently validated and congratulated my work here. From The Weblog Awards of 2007 to the Teacher Leaders Network, these outlets where I’ve consistently found myself as the sole Black voice or 1 of 2 in a room have also helped me my voice as a teacher, something my other spheres of influence on the web haven’t done for me as effectively.

Maybe because of my role as the urban Black / Latino teacher in the edublogosphere, I’m able to have some influence in this dialogue and not leave it up to higher ed professors on TV or people who left the classroom long ago writing in popular newspapers. Maybe my continued focus on writing about that abandoned and desolate bridge where it’s not “edu-tech” and it’s not “edu-politics” will help sand the wooden figure that is our discussion on K-12 education just enough so more people like me see themselves talking more about their experiences.

Maybe I’ll find the answers across that bridge …

Mr. Vilson, who’s always willing to engage in this dialogue …

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Because My Commenters Rock, Even In Spanish

by Jose on December 8, 2009 · 0 comments

in life

Spanish Inquisition: Just When You Least Expect Them

Spanish Inquisition: Just When You Least Expect Them

Please check the first gem spilled upon my blog yesterday concerning my discussion on Spanish (with some edits from me):

So here’s the funny part of all this: in English, the Spanish language is called, duh, Spanish but (I was discussing this with my dad who’s a brilliant, highly-educated man and Dominican) in Spanish there is no such thing as Espanol to mean the language. Now we commonly say “Hablo Espanol” but really it is Castellano. Back when Spain wasn’t a unified Spain yet and it was all kingdoms (Aragon, Castille, etc) and they were breaking their heads with the Muslims, forcing them to unify, Castile was the more dominant from the union with Aragon. So when Spain began to romper culo all over the world, Castillians (?) had more pull. Like Columbus’s voyages were apparently full of men from Castille so they spread Castellano. There was no Espanol. Even today, Spaniards will say they speak Castellano or Gallego and they sound very different yet they are both speaking Spanish. So are Castellanos speaking “proper” Spanish as opposed to Galicians? They’re both from the “mother” country, right?

Also, if you go even further back, Castellano is a dialect of Latin from when the Romans introduced it to the area, after which it got even more convoluted with a crapton of invaders and especially with the Arabic language the Moors brought. So Castellano is itself a dialect. It’s fascinating stuff (my nerd-ass thought it was interesting when my pops was telling me). You always have to wonder about people under the delusion of being some sort of purists. It’s some sign of insecurity I think. And really what are you insecure about? Who sounds more like the conquistadors that broke everyone’s will to live wherever they went? Yeah, I want that prize. Anyway, I love hearing Dominican Spanish, it’s kind of robust and jolly and then you have the sing-song of Puerto Rican Spanish, Mexican Spanish (which is different depending if you’re from el D.F. -they have some awesome curse words- or if you’re from Puebla or Guerrero). They all have their respective charms. C’mon son. (Had to do it, been itching to, sorry.)

Glendaliz dropped the bomb.

Are you kidding? And then that’s followed up by CK’s great twist on the topic:

When you first spoke about this on Twitter, my first instant reaction was like yours — what the fuck?

But this reminds me of a very common people among my community. The Deaf community. The primary language of use is American Sign Language. There’s this whole camp called “Deafhood” where some radical deaf people believe only those born from deaf parents/went to a deaf school/live in the deaf community/use ASL all the time belong.

And there are others who believe everyone belongs, no matter what their communication mode is — as long as they have a hearing loss.

Because of this “label”, things get complicated quickly, and often uneasy.

I’m going to use the onion as a metaphor here. You have an ordinary yellow onion. You peel away the outside, it’s still an onion. You peel away another layer, it’s still an onion. You keep peeling each layer off until you get to the core. It’s still an onion.

You do the same with a speaker of Spanish, Mandarin Chinese, English, ASL, Russian, French, anything. They all are the same. There’s no such thing as a “better” way of using a language.

But don’t take it from me. Keep reading for yourself. You’ll be happy you did.

Mr. Vilson, who has yet to address the issue of Spanish. Soon come.

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My Spanish Is Way Better Than Yours

by Jose on December 7, 2009 · 9 comments

in life

Dora The Explorer and Diego

Dora The Explorer and Diego

Scenario:

Let’s say there are two native Spanish speakers, both of whom don’t come directly from Spain, but have Latino backgrounds, one comes from a South American country and the other from a Carribean-based country. While discussing language, the first comments that their Spanish is “better” than the other. After the second suggests the lack of real difference between the written form of proper Spanish in both countries, the first gets infuriated and storms off. Neither are each other’s parents nor teachers. What would you say?

That’s what I had to ponder as I sat there watching this unfold. My first instinct was, essentially, “Who the fuck are you?” However, seeing as how that’s completely inappropriate for the setting, I simply said “Whatever.” It felt like those Bud Light commercials where I had to choose between too heavy and too light.

Naturally, I mulled it over some more, talked with some online friends, and came to the conclusion that what I witnessed was nothing short of prejudice and possibly even bigotry. Many of us who speak Spanish as natives often differentiate between what we term as proper Spanish and slang, but the bigger distinction throughout the Western hemisphere seems to be between the countries and classes within Latin America. There’s a large perception that those from South America have a “better” Spanish than Central [and particularly Carribean] America.

Unfortunately, in the past, even I’ve fallen into that trap. The intonations of many of those who come from Argentina versus the grit and syncopation of those who come from my native Dominican Republic made me fall into that mentality early and often. Plus, early in my life, my primary connection to South-American based Latinos came in the form of novelas and noticias with predominantly white Central and South Americans. None of them spoke the way I heard my mom and other family members speak, so there was already the complexes laid out for me in plain view.

What becomes more interesting is telling those who hold this belief that their Spanish … sounds less like the Spanish that the Spanish themselves speak.

We reinforce this vision by continuously perpetuating this farce in this many venues. Frankly, the only Spanish I’ve never understood is the Spanish coming from someone who couldn’t speak any language, so if the idea of language is to effectively communicate, then aren’t many of these dialects valid? Furthermore, is there a difference between calling one’s Spanish castellano and calling it proper? I’ve met academics of all varieties who speak Spanish, and their proper Spanish sounds “well-spoken.”

And that leads me to believe that those who perpetuate the nonsense also perpetuate differences in class and schooling (different from education). Even if you don’t speak Spanish, this is akin to the giant pink elephant in the room when it comes to discussing English, except that in this country, speaking Spanish natively can actually work against you.

Am I wrong? What do I say here?

Mr. Vilson, who doesn’t think the Swiper should be swiping …

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Black Male Student and Teacher Writing on Blackboard

Black Male Student and Teacher Writing on Blackboard

On November 24th, 2009 at around 9am, I had the distinct pleasure of going to the NYU Metropolitan Center Policy for Urban Education Educational Forum. The topic was “How are Black and Latino males faring in our high schools?” hosted and moderated by Dr. Pedro Noguera, professor in the Steinhardt School of Culture, Education, and Human Development at New York University and Executive Director of the Metro Center and the co-Director of the Institute for the study of Globalization and Education in Metropolitan Settings (IGEMS). As you can expect, the tension in the air was a bit palpable, because we truly wanted to see just how desperate the situation is with them, but also because we wanted to see whether they’d get to the heart of the matter or simply skim over the finer parts with no real discussion.

Here are some of my bullet points (and for those in NYC, I may share more of my notes on ARIS and also by request)

- FIrst, it’s easy to forget that the plight of males in education doesn’t just extend to Black and Latino males, though it’s most severe in those cases. The lack of male participation in education is really disappointing except in a very small select group of privileged boys who “eventually run the country.” (quoted from Dean Mary Brabeck) In a related point, David Banks, founder of the Eagle Academy for Young Men School and founder of One Hundred Black Men Inc., said, “Black and Latino kids need the same thing everybody else needs, but you’d think that we were talking about another species.” It made me think about the proportion of positive and reaffirming energies we give to our children relative to the energy we give to other people’s children.

- Dr. Pedro Noguera likened his affinity for public schools to the New York Knicks saying, “Even though it’s hard to be a fan of the Knicks, I still support them” to a rousing laugh. He was quick to mention that NYC has a higher rate of high-performing high-poverty schools than any other place of its kind, but there’s also a disproportionate amount of Black / Latino makes not succeeding. We know the consequences of “dropping out” are serious and have to understand the implications of failure.

- Ben Meade, research associate for the Metro Center, then presented the statistics for us. To go more in depth, please check this link. I’ll go over some of these in brief:

  • Black and Latino male dropouts tend to be overage.
  • A large portion of those males stayed 3 years, but eventually dropped out.
  • The males also repeated grades often (the data takes into account boys who graduate in 4, 5, and 6 years).
  • A strong indicator of dropouts is whether they completed 9 or less credits by freshman year or not.
  • A moderate indicator of whether they’d drop out is if they got a level 1 in math in 8th grade, and if they were designated ELLs on or after 7th grade.

- Better schools usually had three (rather obvious) indicators

  • High academic expectations
  • Good communication
  • Safety and respect

- Noguera and others mentioned that this study “is not about gotcha, but trying to solve problems.” He was quick to mention that there were lots of factors that had high correlations, including living in housing projects, going to larger high schools, and poverty rates of neighborhoods.

- Noguera then gave some policy considerations for the principals, administrators, and educational think-tankers in the room

  • Carefully consider the potential implications of the phasing out of the local diploma (in favor of a Regents diploma) for the most vulnerale and poorly served students
  • Implement strategies that are shown to be responsive to vulnerable student populations
  • Develop stronger and broader array of resources for supporting student in areas where levels of need are most critical
  • There’s no recipe for success, but traits, so every school needs to decide how they run a successful school
  • There’s a school that already starts counseling by the 3rd grade. In other words, “proactive mentoring works! We’re not going to wait ’til middle school.”
  • The system should target support to chronically under-performing schools (there was a concern here that simply closing down schools wasn’t enough)
  • The splitting of schools can be detrimental since “sometimes in the same school, you’ll have some kids who get sponsored with laptops in the same place with kids that don’t.”
  • Expose teachers and administrators to practices used by more successful schools
  • There is a relationship between kids who have a certain number of infractions against them and how many times they go to school. (We need to be careful about how punitive our system is if we’re trying to have students go to school)
  • Lastly, we should have model schools that people can go to to learn more.

There is a second half to this blog entry including panelists like Merryl Tisch, Santiago Taveras, Roger Blissett, David Banks, and Juan Mendez. These ladies and gentlemen made some great points concerning racism, running effective schools, and having an activist approach to running schools. Stay tuned.

Mr. Vilson, who has had these privileges left and right …

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Sammy Sosa: Before

Sammy Sosa: Before

A few links:

On Friday, I was blessed to be a guest on Rise Up Radio, a program on WBAI Radio, New York City’s awesome radio station on 99.5FM. (Those of you who didn’t get to hear me on Rise Up Radio on WBAI can download the hour-long show here.) On the show, I discussed child sex acts, the 25 Chicago children arrested for their food fight, health care and the Stupak amendment, and Sammy Sosa’s skin bleaching.

While we really went into these topics, I failed to make a few points important to the topic of Sammy Sosa and why it hurt the Black and Latino community when we saw Sammy look so ghastly.

  1. Rafael Trujillo, the most famous ruler of Dominican Republic to date, advocated for white supremacy and changed the whole dynamic of race in a country with a huge African ancestry to a country where most of the darker-skinned people believe they’re “Indian-colored” even when their facial features say differently, differentiating themselves from “Blacks” (read: Haitians, who were slaughtered under Trujillo’s rule). Thus, Sammy Sosa’s color change resuscitates the ideology that pervaded the Trujillo era.
  2. This kind of stuff happened in America often, most notably with Rita Hayworth who changed her whole name, electrocuted her hairline to push it up and straight, lightened her whole skin tone entirely, and made a few other alterations to become acceptable to Hollywood … and became very successful in the process. This is the first time I’d ever known that an Afro-Latino ever went through this process, at least for non-medical reasons. We question, then, why Sammy would do that since he was already successful … at least until recently.
  3. Raquel Cepeda is mulling some of these topics herself on her blog. Check it out.

This week, I’ll be discussing my stance on a variety of educational topics. Please check it out. Let me know what you’re thinking.

Jose, who likes his skin color a lot …

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Short Notes: On The Brink Of

by Jose on October 25, 2009 · 0 comments

in life

Muse: The Resistance

Muse: The Resistance

A few notes:

  • I haven’t done this short notes format because I’ve had more to talk about topically. Now, I have a lot less time but more things happening. Perfect for this format.
  • I’ve noticed that many educators in the digital age have taken on the vision of Frank McCourt, who once said that, when it comes to K-12 education, they never ask teachers, but ask the “leaders.” Not that I think there’s anything wrong with being a thought leader or the president of an educational organization. I’ve met many of those types lately due to this venue that everyone and no one knows about yet. When it comes down to it, it’s important for teachers, rank-and-file or otherwise, document their experiences and publicize their experiences in the name of adding more dimensions to the idea of “teacher.”
  • Funny. Right after I wrote that “I Almost Quit Twitter” post, I found a purpose in staying: livetweeting the Yankee games. People seem to enjoy me talking junk about everyone in the field and making obscure reference to Derek Jeter’s throng of women and Bobby Abreu’s hair product. Let’s hope this lasts into November. Then I can publish that “I Quit Twitter” post in my queue. (You guys know I love Facebook more anyways.)
  • Sometimes, I have this theory that the higher the highs, the lower the lows. For instance, this week, as I mentioned on my Facebook and Twitter, I’ve been mentioned in a couple of spots that got me pretty excited. First, there was Tara L. Conley’s presentation on the promulgation of ideas via Twitter, and then Raquel Cepeda’s CNN.com article on the definition of Latino as it pertains to Latino in America the series. In both, the ladies quoted me and I’m certainly grateful. I’ve also started doing a bit of inquiry as it pertains to writing books and articles, and LANSU, my Syracuse University alumni organization, seems to finally be getting its feet firmly set. Yet, all the other personal things have made it hard to celebrate these events. I love the chaos and anarchy, but simultaneously crave a bit of order and regularity. In times like these, when I need the most reassurance and confidence, I also realize I have to find these qualities within and for myself. Otherwise, who will?

Jose, who’s on the brink of things bigger than himself …

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Why Your Voice Really Does Matter

by Jose on October 18, 2009 · 6 comments

in life

Soledad O'Brien

Soledad O'Brien

Last night, I and the gentlemen from MiBodegaOnline.com went to El Museo Del Barrio, a museum dedicated to the Latino experience here and everywhere, located in Spanish Harlem, to see a preview of CNN’s Latino in America, a spinoff off the acclaimed Black in America by Soledad O’Brien. She was present to introduce the clips and answer questions regarding the premiere and outstanding issues pertaining to the Latino community. One audience member asked arguably the most critical question about the documentary when he asked, “About Lou Dobbs …”

The audience, at that point, clapped loudly, and Soledad’s smile stretched from ear to ear, as if expecting the question. For those not in the know, Lou Dobbs, CNN anchor and host of his own show, has been at the center of a maelstrom of debate with his divisive comments towards the Latino community as a whole, but specifically illegal immigrants. He’s not only continued to perpetrate lies about the “facts,” he’s also sponsored racist organizations like the Minutemen, an organization that supposedly patrols the borders of the US to contain migrants from other countries, predominantly Mexico.

“About Lou Dobbs … I guess my question is, how do we get him out?”

I’ll presume that he meant to ask Soledad O’Brien what’s a good strategy to unseat Lou Dobbs from his own program in light of his blatantly racist (and other -ists) agenda. Lou Dobbs’ program is on the same network (CNN) as this program, so naturally, people had to ask a seemingly uncomfortable question to Soledad, who’s done her part in diversifying the station’s anchors and shows. While I can’t directly quote her, I do believe she said the network notices when certain programs do well and others don’t. She also said that as long as she puts out solid, nuanced programming, and people keep responding as well as they have, then they will win.

And that’s where I see the power. We have to speak in the language that makes the most sense for whatever the situation is, and master that language in kind. The same ideas we have about visiting a foreign country should be applied to everything we do. If we want more movies with Latinos in it, then let’s go to films that have Latinos in them. If we want more stake in our communities, we need to stuff those ballot boxes and sponsor those events, whether with experience or monies. It’s not enough to just blog, Facebook, Twitter, or whatever modality we use online to deliver our messages when many of us aren’t speaking in the language of the very causes we’re fighting for … we need to act en masse.

After stating her thinly-veiled commentary, a good response / non-response if I ever heard one, she said, “I won’t connect the dots for you.” That’s where you and I step in. Join me. Bring your voice to the fore.

Speak up and speak loud.

Jose, who will never insult your collective intelligence …

Soledad O'Brien and I at the Latino in America event at Museo del Barrio, Spanish Harlem, NYC

Soledad O'Brien and I at the Latino in America event at Museo del Barrio, Spanish Harlem, NYC

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Black in America

Black in America

Sure enough, I didn’t catch most of CNN’s Black in America 2 special. I’ll most likely catch that sometime in the future; reruns prevail over original programming even on a 24-hour news channel. I caught bits of it and found inspiration in the story of Steve Perry, a Black high school principal whose high expectations and stringent attention to detail made his school (and of course, his students) extremely successful. There were other times in the few clips I got to see that resonated with me as someone who’s grown up in an impoverished predominantly Puerto Rican and Black neighborhood, like the fatherless children, the vacated mom-and-pop shops, and more prevalent cases of grown children raising much younger children, even when they didn’t birth them.

However, I had a hard time looking at the stream of messages from Twitter and Facebook because at the end of the day, a big part of me feels like a tourist in the African-American experience rather than someone fully accepted into what others may see as “Black in America.” To clarify, I believe there is no real definition of Black per se, but there is a shared set of characteristics through culture, skin color, facial features, places of origin, and even speech patterns that help people more concretely identify themselves and others as Black, or any other race. Furthermore, I also see that race and ethnicity are not necessarily mutually exclusive, as there are Black people in Dominican Republic, Costa Rica, Ghana, Liberia, Columbia, and even in places like India and Russia. It doesn’t make them any more or less Black, but this variety of experiences makes my consciousness about what it means to be Black in this country even more complicated.

This may not be true for everyone or even the majority of Black people in this country, but in a way, because of the legacy of experiences in America, not just slavery and revolts but also wars fought and to a certain extent patronage and patriotism to this country, many groups of African-Americans hold a certain degree of exclusivity when it comes to Blackness (and even certain elements of Blackness) by which any lesser man may be intimidated.

“I never liked the Cosby Show.” I can’t tell you how many people’s eyes bulged out of their heads, jaws agape, cheeks ever-expanded when I said that. While most of my other friends from different cultures would just nod and keep the conversation moving, many of my Black friends made it a much bigger deal than I felt necessary. Yes, I’ve heard of The Cosby Show, and seen the million and one specials. I’m familiar with the plot and characters, how pretty Lisa Monet was, and the pudding sponsorships and TV shows Cosby had before and after the show. Yet none of that even so much as put a dent in my psyche; what could a Black doctor with a full, happy family whose problems weren’t that great in the grand scheme of things and whose problems could be solved in a matter of 22 minutes and every so often a celebrity appearance tell a young dude whose father figures were barely there or were abusive, and whose apartment only stretched the lower stage of his man’s house (if that)? What did I know of Richard Pryor, Stevie Wonder, Prince, The Color Purple, Purple Rain, Fame, collared greens and grits, Harlem, The Apollo, people feeling “the spirit” in the middle of a sermon (that doesn’t happen in Catholicism), Good Times, Sanford and Son, and Denzel Washington movies before Glory?

Maybe it’s even because of my station in life and my temperament, rebellious to the status quo. Even to this day, I still don’t know why people take too much heed to Cosby’s opinion as it pertains to Henry Louis Gates or Barack Obama, no more than I can explain the taste of grits (grits aren’t bad; they just don’t have a real taste until you throw some cheese on it). I can’t explain why in some African-American circles I’ve been in, they limit the slavery experience to the borders surrounding this country, like I can’t explain why too many Blacks (because even a few is too much) blame Latinos for job losses in the jobs some might consider beneath them like janitorial or culinary work when we should look at all the factors surrounding people’s employment.

And that’s where I turn back to Black in America, because TV has had such a strange effect on the ways others perceive all of these cultures. Upon further reflection, I have to admit that, if not for hip-hop, I may have never known ½ the things I do about Blackness. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, at least, had a character who grew up in the hood and ended up raised by rich people; that gave me an “in” that the Cosby Show never did. From the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, I learned of the latest dances and styles (as well as not so popular ones) in the Black community, and eventually, I came to feel like it was my 2nd home.

Truly, people who wish to document the Black experience in America may never get it right, and the least controversial way of documenting that experience is simply to provide an emotional attachment to these pieces and let the thought processes and questions come from the viewers themselves. Even if they decided to include some of the prominent experiences we know are out there, experiences like mine would still be left out.

I have a feeling if we replace Black with Latino in this essay and postdate it to the new Latino in America, it’d still be apropos.

Jose, who doesn’t care if he alienates others, but be civil …

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