The Problem With Vick

Some crimes don't go unpunished.



OK. After having an interesting series of mini-debates with a dear friend - who, in the interest of disclosure, is a white dog owner who also happens to a) embrace race and gender conflict theory and b) have the good sense to agree with me most of time - I feel the need to clarify the comments that I wrote concerning Michael Vick in my previous post.

I'm truly not defending Mike Vick's criminal actions. I don't believe that he should somehow escape penalty simply because of the color of his skin or the fact that his most vocal detractors are white. Nor do I believe that dogfighting isn't a serious matter. Just because I find the doggy-love in this country excessive doesn't mean I wouldn't want to see some sadistic animal torturer brought to justice. But, as I wrote, I simply am not comfortable with the way this sad little episode is being publicly played out. At any rate, here are some additional thoughts that I have on the matter.

Despite the facts of the case, this is being viewed as a media/government witch hunt by most black people. Undoubtedly, part of the reason that blacks and whites are interpreting this so dissimilarly is because black people see Vick being prosecuted by a predominately white, historically inequitable criminal justice machine, skewered by a predominately white, rush-to-judgment media and kicked around by a predominately white, credulous and seemingly hypocritical public. When this happens, the actual crime becomes a secondary consideration for us. For further proof of this phenomenon, examine the case of one Orenthal James Simpson (if you're one of the last few who hasn't lost all stomach for it - or if you happen to be Nancy Grace).

Regarding the hypocrisy of the American public, black people see a LOT of it bubbling under the surface of this issue. For one thing, we Americans seem to be selective about what will and won't register emotionally with us. The same dog-lovers who allow themselves to be worked into a lather of righteous indignation over the brutal killings of scores of dogs don't seem to bat an eyelash over the brutal murders of millions of dark-skinned people in Darfur, for example. Or, if international ethnic cleansing is too unpalatable for consumption, how about those athletes/entertainers who are given a pass when they abuse and/or rape women? Or how about (and granted at this point it's officially become personal) R. Kelly? Roughly five years ago Robert Kelly filmed himself urinating on a 14-year-old girl. Since that time he's made five or six albums, one of which, released shortly after the incident, was entitled, The Chocolate Factory. This is pretty salacious shit. Yet, as of this post, he has yet to go to trial. And just as I can't help wondering if Peyton Manning or Tom Brady would be getting the same treatment Vick is, I can't help wondering if Kelly would be treated with such kid gloves if he'd chosen to film himself urinating on a blond-haired, blue-eyed white girl. Dogs, it appears, are more worthy of protection in the minds of the American public than little black girls.

Less importantly, like it or not, PETA and similar groups have become the public face of the Stick It To Mike Vick movement. Yes, the very same PETA members who are screaming for Michael Vick's blood and who would undoubtedly hurdle over a homeless man on their way to the vegan deli without losing a step. I would also argue, that many animal-rights activists are driven, to one degree or another, by an unsettling blend of self-righteousness, misanthropy, elitism, and yes, racism. I've read and heard many of the arguments explaining why I should stop eating meat and encourage others to do the same. I just can't reconcile those arguments with the people who make them - people who equate the meat industry with the slave trade and the Holocaust. Recently, I completed Pamela Rice's 101 Reasons Why I'm a Vegetarian. Although I feel she could have just as easily whittled it down to four or five reasons, I must admit that I mostly agreed with her. So much so that I visited her vivavegie website and found this bullshit, in which she stupidly likens vegetarians with other historically marginalized groups, puts insults to vegetarians on par with racial slurs and openly wonders "where's our Al Sharpton?" Do black folks want the fate of Mike Vick decided by these people (who, it quickly becomes clear, are more interested in letting you know exactly how much of an asshole you are for enjoying your chicken kiev than they are in broadening their membership base)?

So with the Vick case, we've once again found ourselves at that messy intersection on the American social landscape where race and class collide. Predictably, we've also come to the point where we're left divided cleanly along racial lines with regard to how we see things. And since I don't hold out any hope that white folks won't recognize anything but moral absolutes, I guess I can't expect black folks to stop defending a criminal.

Vick Kills Dogs, DL Sticks it to Sisters

Is this the new face of Free Speech?


A number of people have been asking me to use the blog to respond to a myriad of current events. Usually, I can sidestep these requests with skill and ease. However, there are two pop issues that I probably should address.

Here goes...

1) I don't really like dogs. I once owned a mixed breed (I grew up using the term "mutt" but, apparently, dogs deserve as much respect, with regard to how they're labeled, as humans) named Tank, who, somewhat ironically, was run over by a Ford Fairmont station wagon. Ever since, it's been difficult for me to bond emotionally with canines. Don't get me wrong. I don't hate them. I merely believe that they occupy far too much real estate in the American consciousness. It's as if Americans, weaned on the legend of Old Yeller and television reruns of Lassie, assume that there is a direct correlation between their patriotism and the number of times they've allowed Max to climb up on their beds and kiss them in the mouths. And when dog owners invariably compare their living property with children....don't even get me started on that.

Having made my bias crystal clear, I have to admit that I don't exactly hate Michael Vick. Am I an apologist for him? Absolutely not. The crimes for which he'll be entering a plea are both morally repulsive and prosecution-worthy. But I, like many others, have certainly noticed the, let's say complexion of the disdain for Vick and it makes me uncomfortable. It also raises another issue. I don't think many white Americans, particularly sports enthusiasts, have ever felt loose and easy with Number 7. Michael Vick's style of play - decidedly athletic and freewheeling and, let's face it, BLACK - has engendered a reaction from some whites that ranges from curiosity to outright contempt. This isn't a non-issue. I believe that if a traditional quarterback like Peyton Manning or Tom Brady had committed these atrocities, the public call for blood would be noticeably more muted. For Joe Sixpack, Vick's more significant crime might be not learning to stay his ass in the pocket. As always though, I could be wrong.

2) I think that the outrage borne out of DL Hughley's comments is deserved and righteous. After having read a combative and pointedly unremorseful interview with him, I'm even more disappointed. Let's keep in mind that Hughley chose to dog these women on the most popular late night television in the country, and did so in front of a predominately white audience. This ain't the Chitlin' Circuit to which he's accustomed. Furthermore, Hughley's "truth" - that these women are "some of the ugliest women I've ever seen" - is completely subjective and undoubtedly colored by white, racist standards of beauty. Also, his statements were fresh on the heels of the Imus debacle. Haven't these women had to endure enough public ridicule? AND, despite his poorly thought out intentions, the shit that he said wasn't even funny.

Before you Free Speech absolutists start foaming at the mouth, I'd argue that this isn't a free speech issue. No sensible person makes a Free Speech Mountain out of a Faux Pas molehill. Did DL Hughley have the right to say what he said? Damn tootin'. Should his social responsibility as a black man living in a historically and presently racist country outweigh his desire to sneak one in at the expense of black women in general and the Rutger's Women's Basketball team in particular? Hell yes.

Whitlock The Enabler

Time to wake up, Jason.



Jason Whitlock is wrong. Again.

In an article published Wednesday, April 11, Jason Whitlock, columnist for the Kansas City Star and former talking head for ESPN, uses the recent Don Imus uproar as an excuse to launch a scorched Earth attack against hip hop, Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton and gangsterism run amock. Whitlock offers his thanks to Don Imus who, unwittingly, "..extended Black History Month to April, and we can once again wallow in victimhood, protest like it’s 1965 and delude ourselves into believing that fixing your hatred is more necessary than eradicating our self-hatred."

Where to begin?

First, Whitlock erroniously dismisses Don Imus as "irrelevant". This is a man who has been in radio (and more recently, television) for over 30 years, has been named one of the 25 greatest talk radio hosts of all time, regularly invites nationally recognized politicians to his show, and has a daily listening audience of tens of millions of Americans. If Imus is irrelevant what is Whitlock?

Second, he cynically accuses Vivian Stringer and Rutgers of holding a press conference in order to recruit players. Never mind the fact that every major news provider in the country has been requesting comments/responses/interviews from and with the Rutgers team since Imus' comments became a national story. Never mind that ANY organization in the country would have scheduled a news conference to deal with the furor (e.g. Duke rape case). Also, never mind the fact that if Rutgers wants to reverse this situation and use it to their advantage it's their prerogative. They didn't bring this attention to themselves.

Third, what does hip hop have to do with Don Imus? Tell me something. Did hip hop precede the slave trade, chattel slavery in the US, the purposeful, systemic destruction of the black family, the complete obliteration of our former culture, the three-fifths of a man decision, lynching, race wars, Jim Crow, Plessy v. Ferguson, economic lockout, poll taxes, literacy tests, The Little Rock Nine, the KKK, Emmit Till, Medgar Evers, the assassinations of King and X, white flight, the myth of the "welfare queen", underfunded public schools, predatory lending, land rent schemes, rent-to-own stores, etc., etc., etc.? As usual, Whitlock latches on to anything having to do with race and uses it to bludgeon hip hop. Hip hop is and has always been a genre fueled by poverty and inequality. Does Whitlock know how hip hop began? Hip hop (think beatboxing, mcing, djing, etc.) started during the late '70s and exploded during the Reagan era (not coincidentally when Reagan began to cypher money from inner city school music programs). Prior to that, young black kids were learning to play i-n-s-t-r-u-m-e-n-t-s in school. If you can recall, Jazz used to be our rebel music - and the blues prior to that. Black kids rap because that's the only form of musical expression we were left with. And guess what? Many (NOT MOST, NOT ALL!) people who grew up in poverty tend to act ignorantly and to say ignorant things. The same is true of poor whites, Latinos, etc. Believe me, there are tons of black folks, including myself, who have a problem with the direction mainstream hip hop has taken over the course of the last decade or so. Nas, the MCs MC, even went so far as to title his latest album, "Hip Hop Is Dead". But to me, to loathe hip hop as much as Whitlock does is to loathe poor blacks. Or, as Whitlock's ideological twin, Bill Cosby, put it, "the lower economic people."

Fourth, Whitlock is wrong about Dave Chappelle. Dave Chappelle TURNED DOWN fifty million dollars because of misgivings he had about the racial direction his show was taking. I've favorably compared Chappelle's change of heart to Richard Pryor's, when Pryor visited Africa and decided to jettison the term 'nigger' from his public vocabulary. For Whitlock to actually compare politically insignificant black comedians to an influential white pundit with a history of prominent, public race-baiting is just misguided and regrettable.

Fifth, Imus only offered a public apology because of the uproar and his fear of losing corporate sponsorship - not out of any sense of genuine remorse. Imus has a track record of ugly racialized comments. This is the same guy who admitted to hiring staff specifically to make "nigger jokes." Plus, his apology was hollow. It was basically one of those, "I'm sorry for what happened" apologies. Not, "I'm sorry for the ignorant shit that I said." Who can be blamed for not accepting that?

Don't get me wrong. I agree that we have bigger fish to fry than Don Imus. Certainly drug usage, pre-marital pregnancy, single motherhood, lack of education, AIDS and other STDs, self-hatred, glorification of gansterism, misogyny, coonery, et cetera are greater issues. But these things are - like it or not - problems that have arisen and grown worse as a result of lack (or perceived lack) of economic opportunity and the brain drain that was created when our "talented tenth" integrated into the dominant culture and left the black working and lower classes behind. The black upper to middle class certainly has a lot more responsibility for this than the likes of Tupac Shakur.

An Open Prayer for the Survival of Priceless Semen

Onward Christian Surgeon

Dear God:

Despite my frequent (and exceedingly valid) criticisms of the culture of American Sport, as you well know I continue to enjoy the occasional professional football game, celebrate the individual athleticism of NBA basketball and back the illustrious team of my youth, the New York Yankees.

As a result of this inexplicable allegiance to that which I often denounce, I regularly tune in to the ESPN network’s broadcasts of “Pardon the Interruption” and “Sportscenter”. Yesterday, while watching the latter, I was encouraged to hear that the health of Kentucky Derby winner, Barbaro, seems to be improving at a rate expected neither by his physicians nor the general public. Barbaro is back on his hoofs(!), God, and I can’t thank You enough for allowing this mighty steed to buck the odds, as it were, and speed toward recovery. Truly, the numerous candle-lit prayer vigils have convinced You, in all Your infinite wisdom, to watch over Barbaro and see to it that his obscenely wealthy owner does not lose the potential millions that he stands to gain once he begins auctioning Barbaro’s sperm to the highest bidder.

How else, Lord, can one explain the extravagant, round-the-clock medical care that Barbaro has received since he first injured himself some three months ago. Although approximately 46 million Americans, or 15.7 percent of the population, are without health insurance, Barbaro underwent a costly surgical procedure as soon as it was made available.

Soon, even the non-sports networks were providing updates about Barbaro’s condition and viewers were treated to images of countless well-wishers signing get well cards, singing, joining hands, and hoping for the best. Only Your unseen hand could have delivered Barbaro from death, sparing his owner the financial setback from which he would have, undoubtedly, immediately bounced back given the elaborate insurance policy that he had taken out on the life of the horse.

Yet, God, you just won’t allow Barbaro to go gently into that good, equestrian night. Despite all odds, it looks as if he’ll pull through and fulfill his destiny as a valuable and highly desirable stud. I’m sure if Barbaro could speak, along the lines of say, Mr. Ed, he would praise your name prior to every premium ejaculation. But he can’t, Lord, so I must take it upon myself to sing Your praises.

Your Faithful Servant,

ACT

Killing The Redskins

The Cleveland Injuns thank you for your continued support.

I wonder if any current football or baseball teams would be named the Atlanta Tarskins or the Carolina Nigger Feet if the American South had either successfully maintained its’ “right” to own slaves or peacefully seceded from the Union.

I submit to you that neither of these names is any more offensive than the Washington Redskins. Yesterday, a group of Native Americans filed a petition with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office to cancel the trademarks for the Washington Redskins football team, saying the name is disparaging to indigenous groups. The petition, filed with the Trademark Trial and Appeal Board in Alexandria, Virginia, cites “extensive evidence concerning the history of the use of the term ‘Redskin’ and public perception of the objectionable term.” Incidentally, check out how the story is framed. Susan Decker and Curtis Eichelberger of Bloomberg News want to reassure their readership that only SIX little Indians want the name changed. I immediately asked myself why this should be important considering that the six undoubtedly represent a much larger contingent of folks who object to a racist slur being used as a team name.

At any rate, unsurprisingly, a recent USA Today poll shows that approximately 80% of respondents a) don’t have a problem with the name “Redskins” and b) wish to continue the name’s “tradition.” This doesn’t shock me. America (read: White America) has never really copped to its systematic, government-sponsored attempt to exterminate Native Americans, its “tradition” of “killing the Indian to save the man” or its “tradition” of race-based privilege.

What I do find confounding is the tenacity with which so many African-American fans of the team support the team name. When I lived in the Washington Metropolitan area, I was astonished by the typical African-American reaction to suggestions that the name of the local team be changed. Responses generally ranged from glossy-eyed apathy to dogged, pathological defense of both the name and the logo.

I’ve often asked myself what we have to gain from the continued marginalization of Native Americans. Historically, African-Americans and Native Americans have had both a cooperative relationship and a common enemy. Indeed, many black folks will be the first ones to let you know that they have some Native American ancestry. Why then don’t black folks in DC see the larger picture?

Noam Chomsky proffered a compelling argument regarding how our sports culture depoliticizes us. He spoke about how at any point during the day we can tune into our local radio sports program and be privy to the Average Joe’s complex, in-depth analysis of the players and teams for which he roots. He goes on to note that Joe Sixpack does not generally defer to the experts with regard to his sports-related opinions ,“ they're quite happy to have an argument with the coach of the Boston Celtics, and tell him what he should have done, and enter into big debates with him and so on. So the fact is that in this domain, people somehow feel quite confident, and they know a lot - there's obviously a great deal of intelligence going into it.” Chomsky argues that we are locked out of the things to which we otherwise might apply our intelligence, e.g. politics, so we adapt by becoming intellectually devoted to baseball or football.

Moreover, according to Chomsky, sports provide another, more important function. They serve to nurture our jingoistic tendencies and help us develop “irrational loyalties” beginning at a very early age. From Chomsky:

“But the point is, this sense of irrational loyalty to some sort of meaningless community is training for subordination to power, and for chauvinism. And of course, you're looking at gladiators, you're looking at guys who can do things you couldn't possibly do - like, you couldn't pole-vault seventeen feet, or do all these crazy things these people do. But it's a model that you're supposed to try to emulate. And they're gladiators fighting for your cause, so you've got to cheer them on, and you've got to be happy when the opposing quarterback gets carted off the field a total wreck and so on. All of this stuff builds up extremely anti-social aspects of human psychology. I mean, they're there; there's no doubt that they're there. But they're emphasized, and exaggerated, and brought out by spectator sports: irrational competition, irrational loyalty to power systems, passive acquiescence to quite awful values, really. In fact, it's hard to imagine anything that contributes more fundamentally to authoritarian attitudes than this does, in addition to the fact that it just engages a lot of intelligence and keeps people away from other things.”

That explains a lot. Namely, why franchise owners can extort a city for hundreds of millions of dollars to build new stadiums with little to no backlash. Or why we draw up elaborate, imaginary divisions with folks based on the team for which they root. Or why we keep paying more money each year for a diminishing product. Or why we continue to cheer when our favorite teams treat their players like interchangeable ingredients in a stew. Or why we periodically unleash our collective fury on players who hold out for more money but give owners a free pass. Our how a stadium full of otherwise rational people can be convinced to make “Indian” whooping noises and chopping motions with their hands. Our why we allow some jackass to put feathers in his hair, and jump around at halftime like an idiot, and think he’s somehow paying homage to Native Americans.

Given all this, it is hardly shocking that people who should know better, who should, in fact, be among the first to recognize how a name like “Redskins” dehumanizes our Native American brethren, serve as apologists for those in power who seek to keep it. Indoctrination and socialization have done such a number on us that we exalt meaningless, often faceless, sports clubs and their logos over other human beings based on the premise that anyone who’s offended by this stuff is just too sensitive. History (depending on who writes it) won’t be kind.

On Berating Bonds

The day suicide lines lit up like a scoreboard

White people LOVE to hate Barry Bonds. I’ve noticed this with increasing curiosity over the last three years or so. There appears to be something affirming in it for them. Don’t get me wrong. There are black people who dislike him also. But for whites, Bonds seems to illicit an animosity that borders on fanaticism. Contrary to what you may believe, this hatred has little to do with the steroid cloud under which Bonds has played for the last few years. Indeed, many whites’ obsessive contempt for Bonds began long before the “clear and the cream” infamously entered the baseball vernacular. The steroids accusations just seem to have given white folks a cause around which to rally. Undoubtedly much of the hostility toward Barry Bonds is rooted, to one degree or another, in the following things:

One is that Bonds has, for many years, maintained an uncanny ability to keep white folks – fans and media – at a distance. He doesn’t appear to need them, or court their praise one way or another. At times, he comes across as surly and recalcitrant. In a post Michael Jordan era, when successful athletes are encouraged to be all things to all people, Bonds, apparently, just wants to be left alone. Only recently, with his ESPN reality show, Bonds on Bonds, has he made himself accessible to the media. To most, the fact that Bobby Bonds, Barry’s father, had a tumultuous relationship with the media in his playing days, and that this soured Barry on the media early on, can’t or won’t register.

Another reason is that Bonds seems completely indifferent to the steroids accusations. The more the media focuses on Bonds’ alleged steroid use, the more apt he seems to be to shrug his shoulders and imply that, at least for him, it’s a non-issue. Media types want to see Bonds at least pretend to be apologetic and contrite, one game that Bonds doesn’t play well.

Also, Bonds has made statements that have further alienated him from the baseball “purists.” He’s spoken dismissively (oh my!) of baseball god, Babe Ruth. Tellingly, those who want an asterisk to be placed beside Bonds’ name don’t feel it necessary to have one placed beside Ruth’s – who completed his assault on the record books without ANY blacks or Latinos to impede him.

To add fuel to the fire, a couple of years back, he correctly identified the city of Boston as being a haven for racists. As could be expected, many clueless whites reacted by identifying Bonds himself as the racist (even going so far as to compare his comments with those of John Rocker) despite the truth of his words. Boston has a viciously anti-black history, and sports were no exception. According to Dave Zirin, author of What’s My Name, Fool!: Sports and Resistance in the United States, Bill Russell, whom many consider the greatest team player in American sport, and the foundation of eleven Celtics championships, described the city as “a flea market of racism.” “I didn’t play for Boston,” Russell once admitted, “I played for the Celtics.” As the winds of racial change blew throughout MLB in the fifties, Beantown’s beloved Red Sox still clung to their policy of excluding blacks. That organization was, in fact, the last major league team to integrate its roster. Further, Boston continues to be one of the most segregated metropolitan areas in the country.

Despite all this, I’m still left wondering if some of the animosity towards him can be traced to his blackness. Would Mark McGwire, for instance, if he shared Bonds’ personality, be the object of such universal hatred? I can’t imagine that he would. As I’ve suggested, Bonds won’t win any congeniality contests any time soon but he’s certainly no Ty Cobb, who was, by all reports, the dirtiest, SOB to ever play the game.

So now that the 2006 baseball season is well underway, the venomous jeers and hisses have become cacophonous. Fans (again, OVERWHELMINGLY white) somehow seek to restore the dignity of the game by tearing him down. Dads bring their kids to the park so that they can shout, “Cheater,” and throw inflatable syringes at him. Reporters keep seeking to corner him into contrition. And his recent stumble out of the gate has solidified his guilty status in the minds of his detractors.

Frankly, the carnival of Bonds-haters has made me begin to root for him. The resolve with which his enemies seek to ruin him has convinced me that it ain’t just about the ‘roids. So, hopefully, as white folks keep on hating Bonds, he’ll keep on hitting them out of the park. If only to spite them.

Who Paved Glory Road?

Imagine a Hollywood movie that attempts to tell the story of Jackie Robinson’s introduction to Major League Baseball through the eyes of Branch Rickey – the MLB executive who signed Jackie to the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. The story would begin in Rickey’s birthplace, Flat, Ohio. It would follow Rickey’s short, embarrassing MLB career as a catcher – one that consists of earning the record for most bases stolen while he was “guarding” the plate. Next we’d see a quick reference to Rickey having been in the Armed Forces (to sell him as dutiful and patriotic) and move on to him establishing himself in minor league baseball. Rickey, we would learn, was one of the first people to successfully groom minor league players for the majors. We’d then see how Rickey became manager of the Cardinals during their championship-form heyday throughout the 1930s and early ‘40s. Finally, the coup de grace: Rickey thumbing his nose at tradition and signing Jackie Robinson. To be sure, such a movie would have to make mention of Robinson’s struggles against racist resistance. But these problems would be muted in favor of romanticizing the courageous white visionary who would go on to challenge Major League Baseball’s status quo and ultimately destroy the color barrier. After all, it wouldn’t be about Jackie. This story would be bigger than Jackie Robinson. It would be about Rickey saving the Soul of Baseball! Actually, now that I think about it, I’m surprised that it hasn’t already been made.

Sound ridiculous? Then consider the recently released Glory Road. This movie tells the story of the 1966 NCAA basketball champion Texas Miners through the eyes of their white coach, Don Haskins. Haskins is the protagonist. The movie centers on how he prepares his players, not only for the championship game, but for life afterwards. We all know the story. It relies on the same tired recipe as most of these post-civil rights era cinematic and televised walks in the park. Take a noble white guy struggling for redemption, meaning or cash (or some combination thereof). Mix in some black sass, give them a common adversary and goal and voila: a tepid pseudo-examination of race and brotherhood that lacks meaning or value.

What needs to be noted is that the story of the five black men who won that basketball championship in 1966 is not considered significant unless it can be tied to the courage of their white coach. By fixating on Haskins, the makers of this film turn the 1966 NCAA Basketball Championship into an episode of The White Shadow instead of the direct slap to the face of Jim Crow that it was.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not questioning the decency of Haskin’s historic all-black-starting-five act. I’m not dismissing his commitment to his black players. I’m certainly not pooh-poohing the significance of the Miner’s victory in the history of American sport. The question I ask is this: why does the courage of the five black players on the front line have to take a back seat to Haskin’s act? After all, it was they who had to deal with the direct racist animosity of screaming, belligerent, hostile fans. It was they who put the ball in the hoop more times than the Kentucky squad. And it was they who would have to live in America with black skin long after the ball stopped bouncing.