Lie to the Kids...They're Dying Anyway, Right?

All around us, Black children are dying. Some are dying quick, brutal deaths at the hands of criminals and abusive relatives. But many others are dying the slow, painful deaths we would associate with those afflicted by a terminal illness. If you think this is some sort of poetic exaggeration, think carefully. A young man who doesn't expect to live to see 21 isn't really living life anymore. He's simply living to die. And like anyone diagnosed with a terminal illnesses, he's likely to see little point in pursuing productivity for what little time he does have. After all, for what?
Black youth are surrounded by images of poverty and despair, while being bombarded by ideas of their own inability and inferiority. The majority of Black youth who are born into poverty are more aware of these facts than any author who has written about them. They did not need Jonathan Kozol to tell them they were a bastard generation, scraping for leftovers. Everywhere they look, they see adults struggling for self-determination, and failing miserably. They are raised in households where adults have little time available to raise their children, often because these adults are busy humiliating themselves for a minimum wage, or because the adults never fully matured into adulthood themselves. So Black youth born into poverty spend a great deal of time watching television. As a result, they witness the mythical utopias of the "good life" where whites live well simply by being themselves, while Blacks become prosperous only by personifying the most negative stereotypes…or playing ball.
Our youth have little hope for the future. Sure, they may mouth empty promises of becoming firefighters and astronauts in grade school, but by middle school they are fully disenchanted and dejected. They now shrug their shoulders when asked, and when prodded, it becomes clear that they have very few realistic plans for the future. It makes sense, how can this young person offer enthusiastic optimism for the future when he knows that very little opportunity exists for his dreams to become reality? We fault our Black students for not planning better for the future. Perhaps we should fault ourselves more, for not creating a society where they can feel that they actually have a future in the first place.
The old adage is that School + Hard Word = Success. This is believed by the majority of people who are academically successful. Unfortunately, academic success doesn’t readily translate into success in life. When Black youth witness their older friends and relatives - many of whom are high school graduates - still struggling to make ends meet, they begin to realize that the old formula was something of a falsehood. This begins occurring as early as the third grade, when Black boys begin disconnecting from the school and making their own rules. It is between third and fourth grade that Black boys begin seriously falling behind their peers academically. It is between third and fourth grade that Black boys begin increasingly accumulating disciplinary infractions and being sentenced as juveniles. It is between third and fourth grade that these Black boys begin realizing that they've been lied to.
Regardless of the inspirational slogans plastered across school walls, there is no easy road to success for Black people. The few who become successful are the exception to the rule, not the rule itself. They are the minority who were able to navigate the complex dichotomies of being Black and poor in urban America, and somehow making it somewhere else…far, far away, of course. Black youth don't need Howard Zinn to figure this out. They can tell that freedom, justice, and equality - although benign ideals - are rarely realized in this society. The scales are weighted in the favor of the people who already have the power, privilege, and prestige, and all evidence suggest that little can be done to change that fact. In fact, the gap between the haves and have-nots is wider in America than in many third-world nations. Our young Black boys are acutely aware of this fact, even more so than their female counterparts. Without knowing the statistics, no Black boy would be surprised to hear that one out of three Black males will end up in juvenile detention or boot camp, before progressing to adult prison, probation, or parole. They won't be surprised because they can see it all around them. They don't need a scholar or statistician to convince them. And they aren't prepared to sit back idly, conform, and take whatever hell life has to offer them, in the vain hopes that one day things will improve. Our testosterone-laden boys are filled full of rage and frustration - some of them silent, some of them vocal, but all of them angry.
They are angry with the status quo, for allowing these wretched conditions to exist. They are angry with white people, for creating these conditions, and then pointing fingers of blame. They are angry with poverty, for making the drug trade seem more promising than an honest living. They are angry with the schools, for teaching an obsolete curriculum full of false promises and useless information. And they are angry with us, for not doing anything about any of it.
Our youth are angry enough with their present life to have lost an interest in prolonging this pain into old age. Our youth are living to die. So they see no point in delaying their needs for instant gratification. They are not concerned with our religions and value systems, many of which have seen us little benefit. They see more wisdom in being raised by an older teenager with money than a poverty-stricken parent with problems of their own. They are motivated by sensory thrill and material gain. Why not? They have little else to look forward to.
It is for this reason that the middle class's attempts to improve Black culture by chastising Black youth have been unsuccessful. The attempts to change our young men's lives by forcing them to pull up their pants and attend school daily have been misguided at best. We have failed to hear our boys crying in silences while screaming in defiance. We have missed their accuracy of their perception, which in many cases, has been a clearer vision than our own. We have ignored the proverb that "great wisdom will come out of the mouths of babies," and have instead leaned to our own understandings. Perhaps we are wrong. Perhaps the answer is not more school, more manners, and more sitting still in your seat and listening to teacher.
Perhaps our children are watching us being destroyed, and they refuse to be destroyed in the same way. Perhaps our children are watching us destroy ourselves, and they have lost respect for us as a result. It is quite obvious that a change must occur among Black youth. But who is responsible for creating the society where such changes will prove to be rewarding? Perhaps we, too, must change.
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