Ivies Don't Need Our Help

This blog post is a response to my President David Wilson's article here.

For context, my name is Jeremy Collins. I am a Junior at Morgan State University majoring in Screenwriting and Animation. Morgan State University wasn't my first choice....nor was it my last. I got in on a decision day in early July after my own college plan sidelined. I got accepted to the University of Maryland College Park's Computer Science program and intended to transfer there after getting credits at a Baltimore community college due to the unaffordable Out-Of-State tuition (I'm from South Carolina). That didn't quite work out the way I planned so I ended up here, at Morgan, and my life changed for the better. 

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1. Maybe Towson or Loyola could use our help a bit more.

I was cold waiting outside of a large building on Charles Street when my Twitter timeline erupted about the protest at Towson University. Black students were sitting in their President's Office with a list of demands about accountability and representation, daring not to move until they were acknowledged. Mizzou had just happened, so with a sense of urgency, I texted my friends asking if we could pool together money to get food for those brave students inside. We were all so quick and ready to mobilize to take pictures in solidarity for Mizzou, but what about when things happen right in our city (or Metropolitan Area to be more correct). Fortunately, they ended up getting food and drinks to get them through, but not from us, as the people I contacted weren't as urgent as I thought they would've been. It would've been a good time then for Morgan to be helpful and suggestive, both from students and administration. But Twitter fingers and hashtag activism don't always translate well to real life work.

2. How exactly does this solve the problem rooted in a culture of white supremacy?

What Dr. Wilson proposes seems to be a short-term bandage, if even a bandage at all. In what way does having students from Morgan State at Yale for a semester challenge the issues of diversity? Morgan Students don't need a semester at Yale to experience the culture of elite whiteness. Hopkins is a but a few stops on the 3 Bus line and 1 stop taking the Collegetown Shuttle.  

Dr. Wilson suggests that the experiences would be transformational, but I argue that it would not.

If white students and white faculty want to seek inclusiveness, maybe they should pay attention to their Black students and their Black faculty. If white colleges really seek to be more inclusive it will require actual work, actual confrontation of ideas and beliefs. There are many things that step in the way of that: white entitlement, white fear, and white tears. Just look at the BlackTwitter hashtag #StayMadAbby. The process of coming to terms with that requires a lot of internal struggle. It's a process - one that won't be solved because you have two more Black students in your class than you had yesterday.  

3. Why should we be participating in the outsourcing of jobs when there are well qualified candidates for these positions?

Morgan shouldn't have to feed Yale, Harvard, or any of the Ivy League institutions good talent when there's plenty of it right here. There's enough Black academics out here who could fill those spaces long-term. It would require, again, that these institutions do actual work.

4. Is this article about HBCUs or is it about Morgan?

I'll be honest. The way the article centers Morgan State, and not HBCUs as a whole, bothers me. I read the article several times trying to find mention of any other HBCU outside of Morgan, but I couldn't. I just had to wonder what

 I love Morgan, but I love Coppin too. I love Howard. I love Morehouse. I love Spelman. I love FAMU. Half of these institutions I've never visited. Why do I love them? If I don't love these institutions the way I love my own, we all lose. Black institutions can't afford to not hug each other and love each other and support each other.

It's already bad enough that people are asking if HBCUs are still relevant in a world of #BlackOnCampus. In fact, our own Black President has seemed to question the relevancy and effectiveness of HBCUs. In his glaring critique of HBCU success - ranging from lack of alumni support and flimsy governmental support - our President seems to not understand the value of the HBCU outside of a monetary view, underpaying the cultural and historical significance.

With that being said, if one falls, we all fall. Anti-Blackness is not selective, and thus we don't need to try to be selected. Looking at the Black elite's response to racism, we can see that within our own class bubbles Black people still don't receive the same treatment. The merits, just like the humanity, of Black people are always question. Instead of trying to be the answer to the question, let's change the conversation and challenge the question.

5. DO we have the resources?

Continuing on the idea before, why does it seem we have a very white-centered view of success? So many of us have "reach the top" aspirations, neglecting the people who may not have had the resources to climb the ladder in the first place. Morgan State University is not my idea of an elite Black institution. Morgan doesn't look like a Black Yale or a Black Columbia or a Black Dartmouth. I'm fine with that. I have my own critique of the Black Professional class that will come at a later time, but I think we are doing fine grooming the students we have. 

We also have to look at the type of students that attend these schools. Someone who's paying for a Brown education and used to Brown resources probably wouldn't want to spend a semester at Morgan. And a Morgan student suddenly immersed in Brown's resources probably wouldn't want to come back. This is not to say that Morgan or any other HBCU is inadequate, but we do need to take an honest look at the disparities between Black colleges and elite White Institutions and a look at the history that made such. Again, confrontation. People will be uncomfortable. People will have to question and challenge their privilege. It's not going to be easy. But I can imagine the people who were shut out of these institutions would say their life hasn't been easy as well.

Whatever it takes, a simple exchange program will not change what has been taught from early on. Let's get back to the drawing board.

What We Not Supposed to Do

Some may say little kids aren't supposed to cook.

I walked into Pleasant Hope Baptist Church to the sight of children, huddled around a griddle, putting fresh bacon on the sizzling thing. The other kids either sat in a circle joking with each other, and one little boy was actually doing impressive head spins. I walked over to Pastor Heber Brown III, and introduced myself, where he gave me three options:  help with the food, run social media, or take photos. Both of my phones were dying, so I did the obvious thing and took photos of the kids making breakfast.

When the bacon was done, there was a brief intermission. One of the kids, Denzel, started showing everyone how to tie a tie. I took off my coat and grabbed a tie, seeing if he could show me. And, well, he did! A ten year old taught me how to tie a tie.

When breakfast was done, the kids threw their trash away and Moriah, one of the volunteers, Shannon, and I washed the dishes while the kids did their libations to the ancestors. 

Pastor Brown had been teaching the youth so much in the past two days. His spirit and love for the kids showed through his grace and patience. "When regular school is closed, Freedom School is open!" he'd shout, and the kids would follow right along.Any other person would've been frustrated and yelling, but he did what a lot of us won't do - let our kids be kids.

Black kids, Moriah, and I discussed, don't get the privilege of childhood, especially impoverished Black kids. Especially little Black girls. Constantly dehumanized, the rush to adulthood comes both externally and internally as our kids have to worry about judgement, performance, and excellence very young. The concept of innocence does not extend to Black kids. Non-Black kids that are loud are simply loud. Black kids that are loud are not just loud but ghetto, and for some reason (racism?) more intolerable. Black kids have to be the face of the entire Black community.

This is different from my experience serving children over the summer with Operation Help or Hush. (Read about it here.) Where the kids in Sandtown-Winchester were dead before they lived, these Freedom School kids might've had a thousands souls inside of them. They were playing and laughing and dancing and singing and cooking and being free. I pictured little Tamir playing with them, quickly changing the thought to something more peaceful.

The kids then got back to making breakfast. Under adult supervision, oranges were juiced, and eggs were whisked. The kids made waffles, scrambled eggs, and fresh orange juice. Shannon, one of the volunteers and one of the kids' parents, gave a miniature lesson on herbs and natural medicine.

The kids then got on the bus (I really want to see the Spike Lee movie) and headed downtown, where there was a protest action where demands were made of the Baltimore City Police Department. I rode in Moriah's car, where we had a great talk on American culture, capitalism, and Cuba (read her post on Cuba here, at ForHarriet). It was nice to be able to converse with someone on such a level. We talked about whether or not Brother Bernie was a real socialist or not, the Uprising, and the individualistic competition-driven culture that our country breeds. The exchange of thought, theory, and ideas felt freeing. This wasn't any elementary exchange of racism and concepts that should've been understood in sixth grade, but actual critique and international experience on a macro and micro level.

The kids, leading the show, sang their song about the RBG from Jones Falls all the way to City Hall, loud and proud. Cameras and a podium waited for their grand entrance. Black and Latino youth were behind the podium as several young leaders spoke about the injustices they faced by the police department, along with solid concrete demands.

After the speeches were made, I was able to meet Dayvon Love from Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, a group that looks to raise community voices to promote change. I did a brief interview with The Real News Network, and we were on our way to the buses. 

Before we got to the buses, the kids were able to see Eddie Conway, a former Black Panther. Many of the kids shook his hands and thanked him for what he did with a reverence that resembled that of the American and the American soldier. The kids had questions about Baltimore and the meal programs and the Party itself, and seeing the younger people so curious and passionate excited me. These kids weren't 15,16,and 17. They ranged from 7-14! 

I rode to the Freddie Gray Empowerment Center with Lawrence Rodgers, an evangelist at another church in Baltimore. There was interesting conversation there as well, as we talked about KFCs closing and homelessness in the city. We rode to the Freddie Gray Empowerment Center, conveniently located just a block from my childhood house on Eutaw Place. 

Freedom School closed out with each kid saying what they learned, liked, or will remember forever during the two days. Most kids said meeting Eddie Conway was the biggest highlight. The recognition and affirmation from elders seemed to provide a shelter for the kids. 

The whole day felt like the second part of a spiritual cleanse. Just the night before, I was singing songs and cracking jokes with my poetry friends while making a banner for the Homecoming Parade. And for the next day to be filled with such beautiful energy felt like a blessing.

Black people aren't supposed to be doing things like this. The institution of American chattel slavery was supposed to be generational, extending from our grandparents to our grandchildren and to their grandchildren. This is what the Confederacy fought to uphold; this is what the culture of our country promotes. We aren't supposed to celebrate and love each other. But we weren't supposed to run to the North either. We weren't supposed to sit in at segregated lunch counters. We weren't supposed to fight back. We weren't supposed to sneak around and learn how to read. We weren't supposed to be able to tell our own story.

Some say kids aren't supposed to cook, but sometimes it's best to do what you not supposed to do.

Being and Belonging to #BlackTwitter

When I get home from the long, skressful (yes, skressful) days of work at Towson Town Center, I kick my shoes off and plop myself into my bed and log onto the internet. I used to spend my time on Reddit, but after the recent controversies surrounding its racist population and ultra-libertarian policies towards "freeze peach", I now go to my Blackfellas and Blackladies subs before logging out. I used to spend my time with Tumblr, but pictures and fantasies, and aesthetics, didn't inspire me the way they used to. But now, I'm at a point in my life where I'm back to the old game of Twitter, and it feels so good.

Black Twitter refers to the large group of Black Twitter users who make up hashtags and tweet for several causes, moments, and movements. One of my favorite writers, Ebony Senior Editor, Jamilah Lemiuex, said Black Twitter was what happens when Black folk get together during any occasion. After she said that, it all made sense. Between the jokes, the mischief, the discussion, and the activism, Black Twitter makes itself a force to be reckoned with.

On the outside looking in, it's an interesting phenomenon to look at. But on the inside – living, loving, and learning within #BlackTwitter – the feeling is one similar to finding yourself. Meeting a cousin at a family reunion that you may not have seen in a long time.

Other hashtags, like #AskRachel and #WhoIsBurningBlackChurches, have brought attention to the new phenomenon. And it is on Twitter where we do what we do best. Instagram relies too much on pictures. Tumblr can be a mess to find things and really have discussions. Reddit is, well, Reddit. But Twitter is as brief as it needs to be. In fact, Black Twitter is such a phenomenon, that there's a subreddit dedicated to it. I refuse to name the wretched thing, but it's definitely popular if you Google (or Bing) it. 

And I do say this, a lot of people's experience within Black Twitter won't be the same. Black people are not monolothic, so why expect someone's experience as a Black Twitter user to be monolithic. Your experiences will definitely be different depending on who you follow. I'm more interested in social justice and radical politics, and my Blackness, and thus, the people I follow mirror that. I also tweet about Florence Welch daily, so my following includes some of her as well. Twitter is an individual experience, but that's what makes Black Twitter so profound. Like supporting Black-owned businesses, to HBCUs, finding our own space to celebrate ourselves is a revolutionary thing, mostly because it's not supposed to happen. Black people are either supposed to assimilate or dissolve. But nope! Here we are, doing what we do. 

On the same day #GrowingUpBlack came out, I had this extreme rush of emotion as I realized everyone's else experiences were my own experience. I've been legal for two years, but the memories that the tweet brought back, made me feel like it was decades ago. I felt a strange belonging as if these people lived in my same household. From the slick-mouthed parents, to the cousins who might not be your real cousins, to the cleaning on Sundays, there was a sense of commonality. Cherry Koolaid didn't exist; it was simply red. Yes my mom and her friends had that same classic picture in their household. Every person at the grill has those same sandals, and you know the food's going to be good. If there's furniture wrapped in plastic, it's best you leave it alone. These are truths in the Black community. This is our culture. And it feels amazing.

PS: If you like what I have to say, follow me on Twitter @jer_collins

Reading Part One of "Wench" at Work and the Fear of White Men

Reading Part One

As I think about this past weekend with Wench by Dolen Perkins-Valdez, I think about my experience as a Black man today in America, and I have to just sigh. Professor Verdelle, whose class I'm reading the book for, always tells us to keep in mind that fiction is just that – fiction. But as I read Wench I forget that, and the story just depresses and depresses and depresses until I'm sitting in a mall, waiting to punch the clock at work, face full of enough despair to fuel sixty-five Drake albums. 

Wench is the stories of four slave women - Lizzie, Mawu, Reenie, and Sweet - as they spend their summers at Tawawa House, a resort in Ohio, one of the freed states. Each woman has their kinks and curves in their personalities, but they're sisterhood is something amazing. They're in it for thick and thin.

The storytelling in the book is magnificent and the elements of the story are so captivating. I find myself rooting for all the girls; however, at this point, I feel an extreme disdain for Lizzie. While I understand her condition, I hate the betrayal to the women. But! I must stop with the victim blaming, because the true monsters of the story are the slavemasters themselves. The ways they physically, psychologically, sexually, and emotionally abuse them were insidious. The hate I had for them consumed me, and it reflected in my attitude towards the white men I helped today. While I composed myself professionally, I imagined many of them as the slaveholders. When I picked the book up, going on my lunch break, the connection made reading even worse. There was an older man in particular who came to ask about the Microsoft Band. I'd just come back from break, and wasn't fully recovered. Thinking about the story of Drayle's two sons, I wondered how so much evil could rest in a single person, let alone a group of them!

The Lone Chocolate Chip

The book stayed on my mind throughout the rest of my shift. It was around 8:20PM and I started a search, just to see the demographics on the board of directors at many popular stores in the mall. A strong proponent of small and black-owned businesses, I looked at Microsoft, Urban Outfitters, Nike, Apple, and a few other places. Cocoa-colored folks weren't abundant in my findings, and I just wanted to sigh. Meanwhile, cocoa-colored folks, mostly young teenagers (13-16) were spending money at these companies. 

Yes, Jeremy, white men still rule the world.