African American Doctor Depicted as Gorilla at UCLA Event

Shaft Strikes Again

There are things we whisper to each other when white folk are not around. Yes it’s true. We two or more Black folk stand by the water cooler we talk in house.Most of it need not be shared. They wouldn’t understand. It would take hours, maybe years of context to not be misunderstood. But at the risk of having my “Black Enough” card revoked, I’m going to share one of these secret communiques. For about two years now, ever since Obama started getting his ask kicked on every meaningful issue of concern to the Black community I’ve heard this or something like it:

After checking the room, looking over both shoulders one of my beloved - brothers or sisters will lean in and say  “Just wait until the second term. Then we’ll see the real Obama!”

The hope is unencumbered by re-election politics he’ll transofrm from Urkel to John Shaft. Maybe even Dolemite. Something other than what he’s already proven to be. The guy we wanted. Not the guy he is – Benson. I can hear the First Lady screaming “Benson! Oh no you didn’t!” Obama’s recent open mic gaff to Russian President Medvedev gave hope to the fantasy. Never mind he was referring to foreign policy and stating the obvious.

I understand the desire to believe the conformity, reserve and caution is just an act until he’s free to be the real Obama. After all, we’ve done this everyday for hundreds of years. It’s a coping mechanism that has served us well in a persevering kind of way. At the same time we desperately want to believe Obama’s just waiting for the opportunity to “stick it to The Man” even if he is “The Man”.

This theory ignores a cardinal rule of being Black in America. If you get in don’t f-it up for the next brother. The next Black president is alive today. Obama knows this. He may hope the next Black president is living the White House today. If he is a Super Negro waiting to emerge checks and balances will temper Obama’s second term. The Republican House and/or Senate along with conservative Supreme court justices who obviously sold their souls for eternal life will keep him in “check”. Wonder if Satan tried to return those souls after a quality check. Caveat emptor Beelzebub.

Second term Presidents rarely get wild and crazy in their second term. Nixon and Clinton were impeached and I’ve had the entire Bush 43 presidency erased from my memory. I don’t think his second term was very memorable but you can look it up. In the final analysis the Obama we have is way better than any alternative. You know it, I know it and the American people know it. As William DeVaughn reminds us, Be Thankful for What You Got.

Small Business Dust Bowl

“On a scale from 1 to 10, how’s business been in the last year?” I asked.  I was a membership representative door to business door in San Mateo County for a small business lobby group. As part of the sales pitch I’d ask business owners about their business performance. Based on the appearance of the business, the lack of employee’s or the silence in the business (no productivity) I would amend the question. “How’s business?” Awful, horrible, never seen anything like this in (pick one) 20, 30, 40 years of business was the frequent answer. More than I care to remember a business owner would tell me they were closing the doors, “retiring” or hoping to go back to work for “the man.”

Small business owners are the forgotten victims of the great recession. It’s easy to forget them. How many of us can relate to backbone of our economy? How many of us have started or closed a business? How many of us have the inherent qualities (balls) to start a serious business? What’s a serious business? A business where the collateral backing the business is your house, property, cash, personal credit or other assets you’ve  accumulated through honest hard work. A business where you haven’t taken a paycheck to keep the doors open. A business where you’ve laid off employees whose families attended the Christmas party months before. That’s serious business.

Two restaurants where I live in Castro Valley recently closed. One closure in particular caught many locals by surprise. JD’s was known for the best breakfast in town and has been family owned since the seventies. “For lease” and “Available” signs dot the business landscape like tombstones marking the precise location of a deceased dream.  On a positive note people have come together to use social media to organize cash mobs to recycle money into local small businesses. Author Amy Cortese proposes a new economic system called “locavesting” designed to invest and support local small businesses. Activism and ideas like these still make this country great but may take more to stop this carnage inflicted on us by the barbarians of Wall Street.

Small business owners are the last heroes standing of capitalism. They take more risks, hire more people and contribute more to communities than big business ever will or care to. They are not people as defined by the Supreme Court, but people like you and me. Small businesses have created 65% of net new jobs in the last seventeen years.

So the next time rich politicians debate or talk about the economy listen for what they’re doing for the people in the 99% who happen to own a business. Listen hard for the sound of silence.

Responsible Fatherhood and Mentors

SOPA Explained by the great Khan

Martin Seligman on positive psychology

Positive Flow, the meaningful life and what is happiness? Check it out.

I Think I Used to Care

I saw Papa Jack (not his real moniker) on TV the other night. He was standing in front of Children’s Hospital in Oakland at a press conference, looking dapper as usual. There’s a long list of places I don’t want to be and Children’s Hospital is on that list. I already visited Children’s Hospital, sans press conference. Earlier this year my grandson was rushed there after suffering seizures due to high fever.  He was eventually released complication free but I hope I never go back. Papa Jack was standing in the background while the father of 23 month old Hiram Lawrence Jr. explained to the press that although his son was shot in the head during a shooting his boy and his faith was strong.

I know Papa Jack from bible study class. Papa Jack is a man in his late 40’s or early 50’s. The “papa” designation comes a bit earlier in the black community these days. He’s a man of faith without complication, unlike myself. He’s a smart dresser, always quick with a laugh or hello, warmly approachable and direct without offense. Now his grandson was on life support.

This particular shooting was much publicized because it had all the elements TV news can’t resist. Grainy nighttime footage of the shooters in action, random nuttiness, a baby victim, a rapper’s painted marketing van shot up at the scene and local media’s favorite crime canvass, Oakland. This is not the first time a member of our congregation has had their faith tested in the most unimaginable way. Over the summer a young mother lost her son in a shooting, a deacon’s nephew was shot and killed a few weeks back and if I were closer to the church I’m sure I could come up with a few more. And that’s only this year.

When I hear of a hedge fund manager going to jail for five or ten years I don’t feel much sympathy for him or her (when will women start pillaging our financial system? Or are they different?). I don’t have empathy for the children suffering behind the gated mansion or the difficult adjustment his wife will have getting by on 50 or 60 million after lawyer fees and fines. I just don’t care. I think when the grandchildren and children of the Papa Jack’s of the world are gunned down, poorly educated, polluted and pissed on most people who don’t know people like Papa Jack just don’t care. I understand the moral equivalency doesn’t quite work but what is true is I don’t feel bad for the problems the of privileged. I don’t think they feel much for me ot people like me either. Is there something wrong with that?

I don’t have some pompous pious answer to this one. I just think there was a time where we all cared about each other much more. If anyone can tell me how we got from there to here, please let me know. Unless you just don’t care.

Postscript: Hiram Lawrence Jr. was taken off life support Friday, December 9^th, 2011.

 

Back to School

This month is back to school for thousands of Oakland Unified School District students. Each school year once represented a continuum of the educational and cultural greatness of our country. Now it’s the front line in a losing battle for the future of our country. Many schools are nothing more than prep schools for correctional institutions and un/under employment. Education, critical thinking and aspiration are often lost in the new normal of inner city schools.

Last year, I had the privilege of volunteering at Castlemont Business and Technology High School (CBITS) with BUILD, a non-profit which tries to show young students another way. BUILD helps the students bring to market their own product using business and entrepreneurial skills. The primary goal is admission to a four year college. Typically these students are the first in their family to attend college and come from the most challenged socioeconomic population.

My ninth grade BUILD students (Forever2Remember) at Castlemont were resilient, bright, funny and brave. The mentors I worked with were dedicated, giving, and determined to help. Their teacher, Katie Mazer, was patient, loving and emotionally exhausted long before the school year finished. Understandable since every teacher’s prayer was to return each Monday to no murdered students from the weekend.

The obstacles that reward and encourage failure in these communities is complex and well organized. The school district, administrators, teachers, non-profits, politicians and community activists all fail these kids on a daily basis, some in spite of good intentions.

Against all odds some of these children succeed. Some have spectacular success. They grow, make hard and right choices, and resist gang, peer and family pressure to fail. They become wise and strong because of their circumstances and use negativity to learn life lessons many of us learn much later in life.

Katie, a Teach-for-America inmate is as tough as they come. At just over five feet and 105 lbs. she’d have my back in a biker bar or the Black Hole. Part of her legacy is a book she helped edit called From Us to the World. This is a survivor’s book. The ones who made it. The 40 of 150 enrolled freshmen who graduated four years later. The majority of the 11th graders who were able to raise their reading levels from 4th or 5th grade. Our future.

If you’re tough enough and want to understand a little of what each day is like for the children of our future read that book. It will break your heart. If you’re lucky maybe you’ll be left with the same hope I was left with.

It’s not Christmas morning hope or Obama audacity hope. It’s MIA hope. It’s my child disappeared and maybe one day they’ll walk in the door hope. It’s coma hope. But even desperate hope is better than certain despair.

Crash!

It wasn’t a car accident. I’ve been calling it that but this was no accident. From about seventy yards away the black Pontiac accelerated across the intersection of 98^th and MacArthur. The first clue something wasn’t right was the lane the car accelerated from. The left turn only lane was ignored but of more immediate concern was the angle the car took as it crossed 98^th Ave. The Pontiac From Hell headed directly for me and my steering wheel was the target. The 3000 lb. projectile closed in and I began to think who I upset or what I said to merit an airbag in the face, back problems for life, spinal injury or death. No one came to mind. Even my closest friends whom I regularly upset with criticisms of Obama would not take this action to quiet my tirades (I think).  I waited. The space between shortened. I thought, “This is going to hurt.” They crossed the double yellow. I moved up and to the right. They veered to their right. I caught a glimpse of Satan speeding past my open window. They slid past and I heard/felt impact as they slammed into my car and continued on.

I made a quick u-turn and saw the Pontiac speeding down MacArthur Boulevard no doubt late for another appointment with Mayhem. Instinctively I thought about going after them. But why? Catch them and beat them to within an inch of their already thrown away lives? Catch them and get beat up by two (there were two-that’s all I could tell) drunk, high or insane clown posse people? Let a random act of violence escalate into something even more tragic? Be shocked when I catch them to find they have guns? Anger and instinct subsided a second later and I began to feel grateful as I realized I was physically fine. I got out my car to survey the damage. The driver’s side mirror was gone. The left rear quarter panel was hit hard. The rear bumper was almost totally off the car, hanging by a thread.

Those who live in the rational and real world always struggle to make sense from non-sense. It helps maintain a sense of order. It matters not who participated in yet another random act of violence. What matters is why. I don’t know exactly why. But I would bet this act is a symptom of the sickness in our community. The part of Oakland where this happened is high-crime, low-income, educationally devastated and hope deprived. Witnesses told me the driver was a young female. The policies which enabled the crazy dysfunctional conditions in much of Oakland have not been random at all.  I’m sure in tony parts of the Bay Area kids do crazy stuff for inexplicable reasons all the time. But in the “other” communities slamming head on into strangers with a car is not part of the “kids just being kids” agenda. This happens when life and lives in a community become ignored, devalued and disrespected.  The irony is some believe they live in separate communities but no matter where you live, we are all one community. Next time you read, think or experience a random act of violence remember that.

Fundraiser Toolbox-Use video to tell the story

The information age accelerates as we become more isolated from one other. It’s now easier to cipher information and pick the issues you choose to care about. Storytelling through video is the counterpunch to the uber selectivity of the internet. From the first caveman burned by fire, storytelling has served as a universal means of communication. The legal profession has long been aware of the role the story model plays in judicial decisions (Pennington, N, & Hastie, R. 1990). Among other findings, the research showed jurors use story organization to process evidence and reach a decision. The same principles can be applied to donor investment decisions.

Video is the contemporary storytelling platform. D-Day, the March on Washington, Selma and 911 were accompanied by matching video which told the story of the time. First person stories of humiliation, heartbreak, anger and injustice can be effectively communicated through video. Video storytelling can touch hearts and minds. The drama of justice delivered, lives changed and victories won for those who don’t always win can be a powerful prelude to quantifiable data or positive outcomes.

San Francisco based MacArthur Award winner Burns Institute uses a multi-faceted video strategy to “market” BI’s mission to great success. Video mini-docs and first person interviews can emotionally touch donors, funders and those who don’t normally relate to legal injustice because justice is usually on their side. Policy, law and legislative video interviews can inform the analytically minded.  Video should be part of the development strategy in collaboration with the communications team. Once formulated, online, in person and direct mail channels can be used to reach existing and potential donors with video.