The (Ill-Considered) Rise of the Party People

The Evening of November 4, 2008

My wife recently received an invitation from an enthusiastic Obama supporter to attend a “Victory Celebration.” This event is set to take place on the occasion of Barack’s defeat of his doddering, arm-flailing Republican opponent. My wife, who’s been desirous of celebrating this historic event in one way or another, plans on going and has repeatedly chided me for my unwillingness to participate. I’ve also heard that many black folks are planning Obama victory parties all across the country.

Those of you who know me and/or read this blog should be familiar with my support of the good Senator from Illinois. This group should also know, by now, how deep my distrust of white America runs. Far be it from me to be a party pooper, but Obama-Mania has reached such a crescendo that I worry about the possible ramifications for black America should he lose. I fear for those who haven’t been paying attention to the last couple of elections. Hello? Voting “irregularities” occurred in both the 2000 (Florida) and 2004 (Ohio) elections - and I don’t need to remind any of you that these victories were stolen from wealthy white men. What makes you November 4th partygoers think that the same won’t happen in 2008? The entire election process has been deeply and repeatedly compromised. AND, as you might expect, to one degree or another, Bradley will be in effect. We can not allow our excitement to cloud our judgment. We need to take a page from the Book of Larry David and curb our enthusiasm.

A co-worker and I have a bet going. It’ll be the easiest money (well, truthfully we didn’t wager any money but I’m the type who relishes any kind of triumph, monetary or otherwise) I’ve ever made. The bet is based on her conviction that Obama will win Texas. TEXAS. This woman is intelligent, educated and generally cautious. But she’s so deluded by her love for Obama that she actually believes he’ll win a state that hasn’t gone Democrat in a national election since LBJ. She, like some others, has allowed her gusto to turn her into merely a fan as opposed to a clear thinking student of political history.

Again, I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s parade. I wholeheartedly believe that the symbolism of a black man winning the election can’t be understated. But an Obama victory will be, after all is said and done, just the beginning. This country is still a mess and, last time I checked, many of our people are still laboring as a part of a permanent underclass. Predictably, there will also be a great deal of white backlash with which to contend. So please. As many of you self-satisfactorily dip your brushes in the can to paint the White House black, I beg you to consider the work still left to be done – not only by Obama but also by us.

The Return

A great deal has happened since I last bothered to post.  I've been busy, but that's not really the reason that I haven't posted.  Frankly, I haven't posted because I haven't seen the point.  For months, the thought of blogging has exhausted me.  I've felt that posting my opinions wouldn't make any difference, anyway, given the relatively small reach I possess, and the fact that things seem to be getting worse and worse for the "average" American.

Still, I hate that I missed out on opportunities to strike while the political iron was still hot re: Obama defeating Hillary, Billy Bob Clinton's playing the perplexed pied piper after having lost his loyal black following, the misplaced anger of Hillary's supporters, McCain's sad and steady dismantling of his "maverick" image, his cynical pick of a wild-eyed, irresponsible, Northern redneck for a running mate, whites' predictable response to Sarah Palin, Obama's (nearly) perfect campaign run, etc.

I also hate that I neglected to hurl timely criticism at the Olympics and Michael Phelps Mania, note the untimely passing of Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes, and bitch about gas prices and the downward spiraling economy. 

Having noted this, I have to admit that on a number of occasions, I've strongly considered deleting Blaxplanation altogether.  As I mentioned, I just haven't been able to see the point.  Sometimes, when I post I feel as if it's just an exercise in narcissism.  It wasn't until I reminded myself of how many obligations (to family, friends, myself, former classmates, co-workers, my fraternity) that I've turned my back on in the past that I reconsidered erasing all that I've done and getting back to work.  So, I'm trying to look at this as a new beginning.  It doesn't matter that this blog isn't turning the world on it's ear.  Nor does it matter that, from time to time, my posts are ego-driven.  All that matters, for now, is that Blaxplanation is here for me to return to - and maybe that's the only point there needs to be.

The Interview

"Offering him a job, but now he don't want it. DAMN, it feels good to see people up on it!"
- Biz Markie (The Vapors)


I've finally moved from the theater of academia to the starting line of the rat race.

Last week, after the semester ended, I interviewed for HR positions with two organizations. I had decided early last fall that I would likely take some time off from school to focus on finding a "Real Job." The woman who supervises my internship suggested that I apply for everything in sight because I could benefit from the interview experience. I happily ignored this advice because a) I've been on more interviews than Mike Wallace and b) I didn't want to waste valuable time being interviewed for positions that I knew I wouldn't accept. Frankly, at this point, I'd like to think that I'm beyond begrudgingly working a pointless, non-career 9-to-5. After all, I'm not spending evenings and weekends cramming Total Quality Management theory into my skull to work at the Piggly Wiggly.

To this end, I put on a suit and tie and paraded myself in front of two prospective employers like a smiling, agreeable show pony. Because I'm not especially fond of the entire process, I made sure both interviews occurred on the same day - one at 9am and the second at 12:30pm. The morning of, I woke up at about 5:30am to begin my short but necessary pre-interview ritual.

The first thing I do is finalize a list of questions that I intend to ask. Many people overlook this part. I don't. The questions that you ask an interviewer are just as important as those that they ask you, and can differentiate you from other candidates. Also, pointed questions (about the company's mission, future, etc.) establish that you're not just some chump looking for a job.

The second thing I do is pick out some music to listen to during my drive. This part may seem inessential to some of you but I find that I need to listen to something that puts me at ease while I'm on my way to having my worth evaluated by strangers. That day, I chose Amy Winehouse's Back to Black which, despite her propensity for rapid and public self-destruction, is, for my money, far and away the best album of the year (apologies to Talib Kweli and Ghostface).

To make a long story short, I was completely unimpressed by the first place. They kept me waiting (close to an hour!) before they brought me up to be interviewed (I later found out they had me scheduled for the wrong time). Also, they asked position-specific questions about which I was clueless. Finally, I was dressed MUCH better than were the folks conducting the interview, which, to my mind, is inexcusable. If they're mailing it in during the interview process how will they perform if I actually work for them?

The second interview went almost seamlessly. Honestly, except for a minor hiccup, I couldn't have scripted it better. I met with a panel of four. I did my thing: beautifully attached my own personal philosophy to the mission of their organization, answered all of their questions creatively, credibly and without hesitation and floored them with follow-up inquiries. Then, from the Senior Compensation Analyst, came the inevitable "compliment" that white folks just can't seem to stop giving some of us: "Wow. You're really articulate!" I was in a bad spot. On the one hand, I really wanted this position. On the other, I've NEVER allowed white folks to get away with that one. What to do? As is my tendency, I cordially responded with, "Thank you! So are you!" Me and my big mouth.

After I left, I sped home and peeled myself out of my corporate armor. Much to my surprise, I received a call from the first place. Despite my initial feeling about the interview and my inexperience, they offered me the position. Wow. I told them I'd have to consider it and get back to them. Not two hours later, the second place called and wanted me to come in, as soon as I could, for a follow-up interview. I told them I was off the next day and could come in whenever they had time to see me. So, the following day, I met with the HR Director. Roughly three hours after the conclusion of the second interview, I received a call from the recruiter who'd been serving as the contact person for the second employer. She told me that I'd been so impressive that they wanted to hire me at a HIGHER RATE than the range I'd been told of.

Needless to say, I accepted the second offer, but not without certain assurances. I've learned that the manner in which one enters an organization is important. You can't negotiate salary, benefits, vacation, perks, etc. after you start in a position. These things need to be decided beforehand. As a business-savvy friend of mine is fond of saying, "They're not going to rescind the offer just because you ask for more money." So, as awkward as it felt, I told them that my acceptance hinged on my being allowed to take a paid vacation in March. This they found satisfactory.

I'm still smiling as I type this.

Wisdom of the Wise

Right On, Brother!

I’m always encouraged by white Americans who are audacious enough to publicly and earnestly call their privilege into question. As a result, I’ve become a HUGE fan of anti-racism activist, Tim Wise. Recently (well, admittedly, not THAT recently – I’m a little late to the party) Wise wrote an open letter to Sheriff Jack Strain, the unapologetic bigot who brazenly threatened to harass anyone in St. Tammany Parrish with dreadlocks or “chee-wee” hairstyles. Strain repeatedly discouraged any New Orleanian “trash” from setting up shop in St. Tammany Parish. But, as Wise amusingly points out, Strain needn’t work himself into a lather over “trash” that blows in from the Crescent City because St. Tammany has enough garbage of its own – garbage that isn’t identified by predominantly African-American hairstyles.

Not long ago, I wrote a post celebrating the efforts of an amazing young man and the seemingly limitless potential of human beings. Wise’s article reminds me that there are plenty of awesome people out there speaking, writing, blogging and dialoguing, and who are pretty remarkable in their own right. They deserve to be heard (and read).

The Sound of Human Potential

I don’t often get the opportunity to marvel at the seemingly limitless potential of human beings to overcome severe personal obstacles. Usually, I’m motivated to write by cruelty, bigotry, foolishness, excess, crookery or some combination thereof. This post is different. A friend recently sent me a simply remarkable story (pulled from People Magazine, of all sources) about a young, blind man named Ben Underwood who uses echolocation to navigate the world around him. That’s right. Echolocation. Up until now, I’ve only heard this term applied to bats and dolphins as a way by which they emit high-pitched sounds to determine the distance and location of objects. In short, it’s the way these animals use sound to replace sight.

According to this incredible story, Ben Underwood a fourteen year old kid from Sacramento who, as a result of retinal cancer, has been completely blind since age three, is able to use echolocation to walk and run around, play basketball and video games, skateboard and perform a wide range of tasks without assistance from others. The authors of the article, Alex Tresniowski and Ron Arias write:

“Ben has learned to perceive and locate objects by making a steady stream of sounds with his tongue, then listening for the echoes as they bounce off the surfaces around him. About as loud as the snapping of fingers, Ben's clicks tell him what's ahead: the echoes they produce can be soft (indicating metals), dense (wood) or sharp (glass). Judging by how loud or faint they are, Ben has learned to gauge distances.”

It’s difficult for me to explain the joy I felt while reading this piece. Learning about Ben’s resourcefulness and courage was like receiving a salve. Here’s a young brother with prosthetic eyes whose motto is, “I’m not blind. I just can’t see,” and believes he can accomplish anything in this life that he chooses to undertake.

Yet, I’m certainly no Pollyanna. I realize the hardships that Ben will have to endure as he negotiates relationships or career, and the difficulties he’ll face when he leaves the nest and clambers into adulthood. I also recognize that he may occasionally be stymied by the pity, condescension and low expectations of others. But my hope is that Ben will surmount those challenges in much the same way that he has compensated for his blindness – with character and resolve. I also hope that those of us, like me, who are too often distracted by inanity and immorality, will, by Ben’s example, have their hope in human nature renewed. If only fleetingly.

In Memory of James Cameron (1914 - 2006)

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James Cameron, civil rights activist and founder of the Black Holocaust Museum in Milwaukee, Wisconsin died Sunday after a long battle with lymphoma.

Many of you have already seen the bone chilling picture above. It was taken in Marion, Indiana in 1930. What you might not know is that James Cameron was seconds away from hanging directly beside the lifeless bodies of Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith. All three men had been accused of robbing and murdering a white man on the previous day. During that era, it was not unusual for black men who had been accused of a crime against a white person to be removed from their holding cells and murdered by a bloodthirsty mob. Such was the case in Marion. One by one the prisoners were taken from the jail in which they were being held and mercilessly strung up. When it was Cameron’s turn, he recalls seeing a woman jumping up and down on a car in a frenzy, repeatedly screaming, “Kill all the niggers!” Cameron vainly pleaded with those people whom he recognized in the throng to spare his life. The lynching rope was literally around his neck when there was a call from the crowd to release him. The voice contended that Cameron, unlike the two men whose still-warm bodies hung above him, was innocent.

I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Cameron while visiting his museum in 1997. I lived in Milwaukee for a few years and the wonderful discussion that I had with Mr. Cameron stands out as one of my only memorable experiences. I remember being amazed by the fact that the abominable incident in Marion, and indeed, his experiences with the racism he would encounter for many years afterwards, didn’t embitter him. On the contrary, he was able to use the horror of that night as a tool with which to confront racial hatred. James Cameron and people like him give hope to those of us who wish to challenge racism and its institutions. He will be sorely missed.

Thank you to Hysterical Blackness, who has dedicated ample space on her blog to share the story of James Cameron and the lynching in Marion and from whom I learned about the tragic passing of Mr. Cameron. Let’s never forget what those who have come before us have had to endure.