QÜNE: The Report

Cosby's Second Serving

To the chagrin of some notable black intellectuals, it seems that our good buddy Bill Cosby is at it again. Entitled, the ‘Call Out Tour’, Cosby is visiting over 20 cities with the hope of calling attention to critical issues in the black community.  Picking up where he left off two years ago at Constitution Hall, the comedian turned philanthropist has continued to present his critique of black America to willing and unwilling audiences.

At Spelman College's commencement, Mr. Cosby admonished black men who’d “rather sell drugs than flip burgers”. Weeks later in D.C, according to the Washington Post, Cosby assailed black churchgoers “who preach religion but fail to confront problems that plague their communities”. According to similar reports of the same event,  Cosby responded sternly to a man who criticized his remarks as being too “watered down”. The wheel-chair bound activist mentioned Professor Michael Eric Dyson’s scathing critique of the “Cosby Perspective”. Leaving the stage to address the man directly, Cosby responded that he is “not afraid of any Mr. Dyson”.

Sound like fighting words?  It seems the second serving of  Cosby's world view may stir up even more consternation from the Dyson discipleship than the first. Op-Eds are starting to roll in that criticize 'Cosby-ites' for refusing to engage in serious discussion with Dyson or other like-minded leaders. Bloggers, (self-proclaimed) public intellectuals, and lotion-lacking militants have also weighed-in offering a range of views in support and against Cosby’s stance. Meanwhile, brief conversations with attendees and organizers of the Spelman commencement and the D.C. speak out, suggest that there are plenty of African Americans that see Cosby’s latest crusade as a welcome and necessary response to certain community indiscretions.

With the emergence of a new brand of black policy-makers, writers, professors, and pundits, Cosby’s ‘Call-Out Tour’ may very well mark the beginning of a more substantive dialogue about our community that pushes away from the tired 'amen choir' framework of old. After all, a public dialogue about the precarious circumstances of black Americans, shouldn’t always resemble a Baptist Revival.

We’ll keep you posted. Read more here. 

Hustler's Flu

Rick Ross’s Everyday I’m Hustlin is in heavy rotation on nearly every local radio station. Challenging normative employment paths, Ross’s use of the term hustlin’ denotes his preference for engaging in illegal activity to realize financial success. Ross provides no real explanation for his choices; rather he reiterates ad nauseam that his said path to success pays handsomely. Rappers such as Jay-Z offer a bit more explanation in their verse. To him and others, less than ideal childhood circumstances, give them reason to shirk the law to achieve financial success. “Welcome to hell, where you are welcome to sell”, to use Jay-Z’s exact terminology. That is, inequality justifies illegal action. Hustle and get paid, never mind the moral and/or political sacrifices it may take to become rich.

While I didn’t grow up dirt poor (or filthy rich), I can understand wanting things that you couldn’t afford during your formative years. After accepting my first job as a college graduate I ran out and bought a portable CD player- before I furnished my studio apartment. Beyond being a bad investment, it looked absolutely awful clipped to my belt. And I’ve made a number of questionable purchases since then, but I've never risked going to jail to do so. Consequently,  it’s puzzling how many promising black kids have embraced the “Get rich or Die Tryin’” mantra.

Don’t get me wrong, building wealth should be a priority of any black American that doesn’t plan to spend the rest of their lives in a East African bush community (believe it or not, there are some with such plans). And pursuing legal long-term employment is a good thing in of itself.  But, responding to the question, “What do you plan to do after you graduate from college?” with the blunt response- “get paid” or “hustle that dollar” insinuates that the details of one’s planned journey to wealth are unimportant.

Maybe I shouldn’t be critical of our community’s newfound interest in making money by any means necessary. However, something tells me that the emergence of a generation of “hustlers” may represent our collective accomodation of a troubling ideology that insinuates that America’s historical and present wrong-doings (against black folk) justify the pursuit of wealth without attention to integrity.

Read about what it really takes to “get paid” (and maintain your integrity) in the article entitled, The Death of Horatio Alger, by economist and New York Times columnist Paul Krugman. And read Giving Americans a Raise, by Nation editor Katrina Vanden Huevel for an even more up to date analysis of the issue.

Seeking Jesus in Drywall

Recently in Mobile, Alabama, a neighborhood of black folk spotted a leprechaun in a tree. That’s right, recently in Mobile, Alabama, a neighborhood of black folk spotted a leprechaun in a tree (see police sketch below). Responding to the sighting, some neighbors pondered if it was crackhead. While another resident dressed in green fatigues prepared to face the leprechaun with what he deemed a special ‘flute’ that wards off danger. Meanwhile, others simply wondered aloud, “Where da gold?”

Sound too far out? Think again. This story first aired on a legitimate, albeit clearly news-starved NBC-affiliate station, WPMI and has quickly reached ‘leprechaun-mania’ status on blogs and video sites on the web. A police sketch of the urban leprechaun in question has even sold for $1100 on eBay.

Interestingly, it reminded us at The Report of a story that aired a few weeks ago. In similarly mind-boggling fashion, black congregants at the Triumph Learning and Worship Center for Life in Saraland, Alabama spotted Jesus in the drywall of their Katrina-ravaged church. Since then, an array of people from the downtrodden to the privileged have flocked to the church to lay hands on the ‘holy buckle' in the drywall.

And just this evening, I saw Gary Coleman riding a Yeti from the window of my home library. Well, not really. Beyond being totally mortified by both of these stories being in the public domain, I’m troubled by both circumstances for a number of reasons. For starters, both instances are proof positive that Alabama needs a much better public education system. But that’s too easy.  More troubling is the less obvious trend of black group-think when it comes to issues of significance (religion) or insignificance (the ghetto leprechaun). By group-think, I’m referring to our consistent support of quesionable ideologies regardless of their utility or truth. If you’ve ever been ridiculed for cooking like a white person (i.e. cooking with too little salt, butter, sugar, or any ingredient that may hasten the onset of heart disease)- then you know what I mean. 

Granted, other communities have similar group-think ideologies. My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a great movie that presents the sometimes bizarre memes that drive cultural creativity. Difference being, Greeks don’t have to worry about 10 additional movies being produced that further the notion that they all use Windex to heal minor skin abrasions (you need to see the movie). My Big Fat Greek Wedding was hilarious and fresh, because most of us had little knowledge of the cultural anomalies that add flavor to Greek family life.  Unfortunately, for black folk, the number of movies, news segments, books, and music that substantiates our collective quirkiness seem to legitimize even our most absurd perspectives. My Big Fat Black Wedding wouldn’t be fresh or have the same success at the box office, because the movie has already been done- at least 15 times. This kind of replication seems to have led many of us to believe that even the most outlandish of claims and proclivities have merit.

Consider as additional support the strangely supported assertion that the federal government blew holes in levees to ensure that black residents were effectively removed from coveted New Orleans properties. The assertion simply diverts attention from the necessary work of ensuring that black residents receive appropriate compensation for their losses in the disaster. The mere existence of such claims, however, stems from our continued allowance of discussions of federal conspiracies and the puzzling belief that the oppressed circumstance of African  Americans makes it impossible for us ever to be flat wrong.

Finding a leprechaun… in a tree… in the ghetto… is equally as unlikely as Jesus appearing in drywall. It is highly unlikely that God has nothing better to do than play the equivalent of “Where’s Waldo” with the struggling Katrina victims (the resiliency of many black residents of New Orleans should be evidence enough of God’s care). Unfortunately, stepping out of line to call an absurdity an absurdity seems to be just as unlikely in our community. Perhaps, this is the message to be gained from the buckle in the drywall.

See a video of Jesus in drywall here and see the original story on the urban leprechaun here. For even more kicks or cries, check out the leprechaun music video here.   

At Least Cornrows Are Free

I was planning to write a quick reflection on the state of hip hop lyrics, but in the midst of my research I came across a website called Gold Teeth America. Googling has become a favorite past time of millions, simply because of the strange and often troubling sites that emerge from mundane queries. As it pertains to the collective state of Black America- Googling can be a shockingly brutal way of reminding us how much work is lef to be completed.

Which brings us to the topic of Goldteethamerica.com.  The site is billed as an online store where denture aficionados can purchase customized gold teeth showcasing diamonds, rubies names, and fangs. Replete with gold text and scrolling titles over a black background the site overwhelms your chintzy sensibilities like a ghetto hair show- sans the smell of burnt hair. Perhaps even more jolting however is the column of rotating customer pictures on the site’s front page. Every two seconds a new head shot is offered as example of another satisfied customer. Flashing their personalized “ice grillz”, picture after picture of folk with personalized gold dentures pop up, rotating in and out of your conscious until a pattern becomes clear. [deep breath] They’re- all black.

I could respond to goldteethamerica.com with praise. You know the mantra, “personalized gold dentures [and the like] are just another example of the collective creativity of black folk- wouldn’t the world be boring without us?” If you’re a liberal (as I am) you’ve used this kind of rationalization before. I’d truly like to believe that black folk have been bestowed certain gifts that allow us to express ourselves with more creativity and verve than others. Problem is I’ve fumbled through too many electric slides to believe that I have an untapped creative gene that lies dormant waiting to be unleashed at the next wedding celebration.  Yes, I’m the annoying black guy that you bump into during this cha-cha slide. And for this reason alone, I tend not to believe in this kind of mythology. While it is therapeutic to believe that African Americans have a monopoly on creativity and self-expression, such assertions only deny the obvious problems associated with the too often alienating choices of black young adults.

"Ice Grillz" and the emergence of the "gold front" industry (if I may call it such) reflect the expanding breach between main stream society and minority youth. To be sure, gold fangs do not attract fiscal, and/or educational opportunities. Sure you can take them out before an interview. But it is a safe bet that if you were wearing them at any point prior, you’re not going to be in the interview queue in the first place.

Thus, wasting thousands of dollars on an item that is going to make it even more difficult to access any services that rely on the subjective opinions of middle class Americans (white or black) makes little sense [unless you’re so rich that their opinions don’t matter- a luxury most Black Americans don’t enjoy]. "Gold grillz" are a bad investment (at least cornrows are free) and another example of our increasingly senseless celebration of alienating behavior.  Now central to hip hop culture, this sensibility is narrowing the life chances of urban youth and excerbating the institutional obstacles many already face.

So go ahead, call the emergence of "gold front" fashion an ode to our Egyptian ancestors. Call it resistance to the middle class hegemony. Call it a nihilistic epoch emerging from the sins of slavery. Call it whatever you want. But make sure that you also call it a likely precursor to unemployment and a sorrowing example of the widening gulf between black young adults and the American dream- however you may define it.

Make sure you visit goldteethamerica.com before your son or daughter does.