A Choice of Colors

Baltimore exploded last night. It began with the young people, high school students, urging each other, encouraging each other, to meet at the mall after school to express their anger and frustration at the death of another Black man at the hands of police. The message, spread by social messaging, spread quickly, setting the stage not only for many students to respond, but also for the police to be in place, and the media to be there to record it all.

The family of Freddie Gray, the young man that lost his life at the hands of the police, had eloquently expressed their desire that no protests be held on the day of the funeral, but their wishes would be ignored. The mayor of the city, Stephanie Rawlings-Blake had repeatedly assured the residents of the city that the death was being investigated, and that those responsible for any wrongdoing would be held accountable. She too, was ignored.

Before the evening was done, rioters had attacked police with bottles and rocks, a pharmacy, mall and other businesses had been looted, police cars had been burned, at least two large fires had occurred, and almost twenty police officers had been injured. Media reports indicate that more than 200 rioters were arrested. The mayor has declared a curfew. The schools are closed. The Baltimore Orioles have cancelled their games, and the Governor has called out the National Guard to maintain order in this beautiful city less than 50 miles from the nation’s capital.

All of this occurred in West Baltimore, one of the poorest neighborhoods you will find in the United States.

For Black America, this is another “Tale of Two Cities”, a reincarnation of “the best of times, and the worst of times”. Never before, has a Black person in the United States had the opportunities for educational, professional, political, and economic success that exists today. On the other hand, the illiteracy, imprisonment, unemployment, frustration, hopelessness and anger that exists for large segments of the Black community is as bad as it has been for any ethnic group in the history of our country.

It would be impossible to find a single person that was participating in the destruction of West Baltimore last night that had a college or technical degree, a household income of $40,000, a steady job, a car and a mortgage.

During the Great Depression, the unemployment rate for all Americans got as high as 24.9%. In 1939, it was still at 17.2%. Today, the unemployment rate for African-Americans in Wisconsin is 19.9%. In Nevada, Michigan, Iowa, and the District of Columbia, it’s more than 15%. In Illinois, Missouri, and Washington, the unemployment rate sits at 14%. In California, Connecticut, Indiana, Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama, New Jersey, Ohio, Minnesota, Colorado, Rhode Island, and Tennessee, the unemployment rate for African Americans exceed 10%. Nationwide the unemployment rate for African Americans is 11.4%, twice as high as the rate for whites.

For Black America, the Great Depression continues.

Despite the relative prosperity of the technical and college educated, corporate, entrepreneur, home owning Blacks of America’s cities and suburbs, there still exists neighborhoods of crushing poverty and hopelessness in the rural enclaves and inner cities of America. This is where the inferior schools are found. This is where the missing men are in prison or dead as a result of the continuing wars between themselves. This is where the fear and loathing exists between police and the communities they are sworn to protect and defend. This is where a culture of mediocrity has been embraced, and the uniquely human need for dignity manifests itself in ways that result in the events that occurred in Baltimore, Maryland last night.

It was the spring of 1971 at Benjamin Russell High School in Alexander City, Alabama. The senior class was gathered in the auditorium for its last class meeting. The purpose of the meeting included deciding on class officers, a class song, a class flower, class colors, and a class motto. The great experiment had begun four years earlier, in 1967. George Wallace’s pledge of “segregation forever” had evaporated. The fears of the apocalypse had failed to materialize. The children of this small rural Alabama town, Black and white, had integrated the school, and was about to graduate.

We had come to know each other during four of the most tumultuous years of the 20^th century. We had witnessed war, assassinations, and riots. We had learned not to fear each other, to respect each other. Some of us had become friends.

As I sat in the auditorium I started to think of the great Curtis Mayfield. He was one of my favorite musical artists, not just for his music, but also because of the power and beauty of his lyrics. Many of his songs were focused on equality and civil rights, and the words of those songs were as important to me as any textbook I read. As I was thinking of him, someone asked for a nomination for a class motto. Instinctively, I got up and said “I’ve got one”. I walked to the stage and stood before my classmates, all 220 of them. Two hundred whites, and just 20 Blacks. I was thinking of the words from a Curtis Mayfield song called “A Choice of Colors”. I said…

“People Must Prove to the People, That a Better Day is Coming, For You and For Me. With Just a Little Bit More Education, and Love For Our Nation, We’ll Make a Better Society”.

There were no other nominations. Our class approved my suggestion unanimously. I like to think that we were true to our motto, that our society today is a better one than the one we had in 1971.

However, watching the chaos in Baltimore last night made me wonder.