Fight; Rebel – March for Blackness

I live in a mostly white neighborhood. The other minorities will, except for the occasional black family, be Asian. Because I rarely leave the house when I am home – which is also a rarity – my neighbors probably do not know me. They have probably met my gracious wife, but they have not really gotten to know me.

So, what if I was taking a walk in the night? What if I passed by a neighbors house on the path that surrounds our artificial lake? After all, the path is cut so close to people’s picket fences that someone could be suddenly scared to see me walking by their backyard.

What if they called the police? What if the police came and accosted me about my presence in the neighborhood? How would I react? Would I end up getting arrested or causing a scene? Someone please do not tell my wife – but there’s no doubt that I will cause some drama. I am actually mentally prepared for it. I am mentally daring anyone to call the police on me for walking around my neighborhood. Yes. I know that I am black. Yes. I know this country’s history with race relations, and I have already mentioned that my neighbors do not know me. In fact, if you asked them who lives at my current address, only a handful would pick me out of a line up of potential owners of my property. So, I also understand that a phone call to the police would be indemnified.

But where does this leave us? In a bad place, I must say. If a person such as myself – upper middle class, well educated, well spoken and impeccably dressed on a regular basis – can be a suspicious figure, we are still a long way away from the post racial society. Or perhaps, the post racial society is here, but Blacks have been left off the gravy train.

There’s still an exception to being black, and so, we – as a collective – must fight against the stereotype. In fact, just like there was a deliberate campaign to rehabilitate the image of pit bulls, blacks must do the same. We must be in people’s faces. The media must show more and more of us as either decent or simply as normal. We must not be afraid to speak properly or dress properly. Of course, we must not forget our culture or that we are black. No. Instead, we must remember that in a world that seems to regard us as the ‘other,’ we must fight back. We must rebel. We must march against those that ‘choose’ to see us as the other.

The fact is simple, actually: Racism is not something someone is born with. Miles does not see me as black. Leo does not see me as black. Charlotte and Constance do not see me as black. Robin and her sister Megan do not see me as black. As far as they are concerned, I am their Uncle Dennis – and I am NOT even related to their parents. Their white parents are just good friends of ours, and as soon as they come through our door, they are our children. Racism is something taught. You learn to be racist from your parents or friends – from the media and other avenues. It is part of the system. And it is this system that we must fight against, rebel against, march against. It is our right not just as human beings, but as a disadvantaged people.

And just like my neighbor would be indemnified for calling the cops on a threatening black figure in his or her neighborhood, I should be justified for causing a scene, for breaking a few windows – for expressing my frustration. It is my right – and I will only be human for doing this.

Dennis Matanda,
Editor – The Habari Network