AP Photo

On August 22, 2011, a statue of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was unveiled in Washington, DC. It was the first of its kind to be erected on the National Mall—the statue of a black man. The following is a piece I wrote after President Obama’s election in 2009 as I reflected on the many firsts in Dr. King’s life and the firsts that his lifelong dream unleashed.

“The First Time”

In December 1955 an overworked black woman from Tuskegee, Alabama sat down in a place on a Montgomery bus that was not her place. Or so she’d been told. She was arrested and jailed. She’d broken a law, albeit unjust. That was a first for her.

Not long afterward, a black preacher from Georgia helped in the effort to boycott the Montgomery bus system for their unjust law. He was young and energetic. And also new, with strange new ideas. He stood up and said strange things. He helped others stand up. It was a first for him. He had a dream.

Over the next few years that young man kept standing up. In 1963, he stood up in the Birmingham jail for the cause of peace and brotherhood, and wrote a letter to a few white religious men who thought he was wrong for standing up like he did. He, and many others, stood up a few months later and they marched on Washington. A lot of people joined him. When he got there he stood up on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and finally told everybody about his dream. And then, toward the end of his life, he stood up on the mountaintop in Memphis, Tennessee to help some folks in a labor union. He got shot down. It was 1968.

But his life was not wasted. That young black preacher’s stand caused four young black men to sit down Greensboro, North Carolina in 1960. They got arrested and jailed. It was a first. That young black preacher’s stand caused whites and blacks across the nation to come together in peaceful protest. They marched and sang. And stood up. For equal access, equal opportunity, peace and freedom. They stood and sat. In Selma. In Little Rock. And a lot of places in between. They believed in the dream.

In response, there were bombings and beatings, and all manner of threats directed at the people who stood and sat. In 1963, a man named Bull said it was okay to use police dogs and fire hoses on the non-violent protesters, women and children included. Some people were shot. Some were burned to death. Some mysteriously disappeared. But few people were convicted for the beating and bombing and threats.

But finally one day, July 1964, the people in charge of the country decided that all the jailings, bombings, beatings, and killings were wrong. Their signatures said it was alright for a person to sit down or stand up wherever they pleased, regardless of creed or hue. Finally, all men had equal rights. Segregation based on race was bad. At least on paper, it was. That was a first. It opened the door for many other firsts for blacks. For all Americans.

On January 20, 2009, a young black man sat down in a place that no black man has ever sat. It was his place, as decided in a national election. It was a first for him. And for all of us. May it not be the last.

© 2009 L.L. Hargrove

Did you EE today?

That’s what Maggie and John Anderson want to know. The Andersons, an African American couple living in a Chicago suburb, started The Empowerment Experiment (or EE) in January 2009.

When they ask their signature question (did you EE today), they are asking if you bought from a black-owned business. Their reasoning? To defy ‘negative stereotypes’ of doing business with black businesses and to inspire blacks to go into business, among other things.

I applaud the Anderson’s in their ingenuity and zeal, but I’m not ‘feeling it’ much at all.

So I guess the experiment is not so much on whites investing in black communities, as it is on blacks like me, who see so many black businesses that do give second-rate service, who are here today, gone tomorrow, who don’t have a sustainable business model. To me the equation that says black-owned equals lower quality is not some myth. Each time I deal with a non-black client, I find myself striving to undo their image of all the black business owners before me that burned them.

What do you think?

I believe some of the economic depression we see in black communities is not due to racism but to black apathy. When faced with opportunities to learn and advance in business, we too often turn the other cheek, pressing our noses to the TV or video screen. And in some communities, you’re still called “white” if you spend time in a book or seek to advance in school.

I call that kind of thinking victim-think. Victim-think leads to victim-speak. Victim-speak keeps us locked into our own expectations for success. (And locked up in prison sometimes).

And would someone please tell me who said black success could only come in the form of making rap albums or creating clothing lines? Why not in developing computer software or advancing in the medical field. Oh, I forgot that’s “white” thinking. (Victim-speak strikes again).

So, to answer the Anderson’s question: No I don’t go out of my way to buy black. I do go out of my way to provide a service that either equals to surpasses that of my competitors. In my lines of work (graphic design and fiction writing) most of my competitors are white. And frankly, I think my audience are mostly white. The blacks that I’ve rubbed elbows with over the past few years are not interested in my brand of fiction. And as far as Web and print design go, they all see to want me to give a brother or sister a break.

It’s time out for the ‘hookup.’ Time in for hard work.

Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.

The Andersons have been  in the news quite a bit since they started their experiment. CNN, BET, Black Enterprise. You name it, they’ve been there and done that. They’ve spent a lot of money being and doing.  That’s the cost of the commitment they made. I admire and respect that kind of commitment. By their actions today, and with inspiration from leaders like Dr. King, they hope to see a better tomorrow for inner city communities.

In their eyes, that they’ve done and continue to do, is radical. If they had me on their panel of advisors (right alongside Dr. Frederick Haynes, III and Dr. Michael Eric Dyson, I would have suggested they relocate their highly-educated selves (complete with their two preschool girls) to those poor black neighborhoods.

That would have sent shockwaves, not ripples, of change through that neighborhood and the nation. Just ask Dr. John Perkins. Relocation, hinged tightly with reconciliation and redistribution, has been his solid foundation for community development for many years.

Read more about the man and the Christian Community Development (CCD) movement below.

Empowerment

Having lived in the ‘hood for five years I can tell stories of empowerment. My husband and I, with six degrees in engineering between us, moved in as a young couple and reluctantly moved away with two small children.

It was an experience that left our friends and family scratching their heads. With so much education and opportunity, they were saying, why couldn’t we live somewhere ‘safer.’ But in the end it was a lifestyle that I yearn for again–for myself and my children.

Our vision, in following the CCD three-R model, had very little to do with seeing economic development to ‘my people’. It had everything to do with seeing people changed for eternity. Blacks. Whites. Hispanics. You name it. If we didn’t all succeed together, it only meant a lopsided and shallow advance forward.

More reading:

• Christian Community Development Association
• John Perkins Foundation
• John Perkins bio (on Wikipedia.com)
• The John Perkins Center at Seattle Pacific University
• John Perkins Foundation on Facebook
• John Perkins on UrbanFaith.com
• Books by John Perkins
• Dr. John Perkins on YouTube