(ThyBlackMan.com) I guess that it is a good thing to be reminded that being a black man in America comes at an extreme cost to one’s identity. As I have mentioned in this space previously, there are times that I feel like Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man.
Now, I do not want you to think that I am invisible in that people do not notice my physical presence, somewhat invisible in that people see nothing beyond ironically, my physical appearance. Let me be clear on who I am. I am a black man who has earned five degrees in his lifetime, one who loves his wife and all of his children, has a host of phenomenal friends and family members, and is passionate about illuminating a path to success for young black men who are desirous of such information. Oh, I forgot, I am also one of those “old school brothers” who does not believe that women should pump gas, touch trash, or open doors when men are present. That is who I am.
So I am quite confident that you can understand why the following scenario disturbs me to no end.
As I do seemingly every day of my life, I was approaching the building where my office is housed and noticed through the reflection coming off of the glass door that there were several females, most definitely students, approaching the same door. Without even thinking, I opened the door and stood there holding it for the three young ladies to enter the building. All three of them came through the door that I was holding without saying a single-word or acknowledging my presence. Making matters worse one of them remarked loud enough for me to hear, “Nigga’s always trying to find a way to holler. They need to quit being so thirsty.” At that moment, I realized that these three females, I will not refer to them as ladies, considered my act of politeness as a “pass” at them.
The actions of these three females instantaneously reverted my mind to an interaction that I had with a group of males several years back who informed me that “chivalry is dead because black females killed it.” Another of these young males related during this same discussion that he would “serve black women when they learned how to be served.”
Now, it would have been straightforward for me to call these females attention to what I considered offensive behavior, however, I thought what would be the use of such activity as they obviously “did not have any home training.” I made the conscious decision to let the matter drop and made my way to my office as I most definitely did not want to be tardy for the first day of class.
After gathering the materials that I thought I would need, I made my way to the elevator and then to class. I am confident that you will understand how amused I was to see the three young ladies who had been so rude to me moments before sitting in my class. There was no doubt in my mind that it was them and by the look on their faces, there was no doubt in their minds that “the thirsty old nigga trying to find a way to holla” was, in fact, their professor. I paid them no mind and went about my business of addressing the assembled students regarding the rules and regulations of my class.
However, I would be less than truthful if I did not share that due to noise occurring in the hall that I asked one of my male students to please shut the door. At that moment I shared my belief that “black men need to learn how to serve black women and black women need to learn how to be graciously served.” I was not prepared to have many of the females in my class applaud my logic, shockingly, the three who had previously offended me clapped. I could not believe it.
My shock would become even more heightened when the three females mentioned above approached me after class in an attempt to introduce themselves. I politely listened to their introductions and just stood in stunned silence. It was only after what I am sure they considered a heavy, awkward silence that they issued an apology for their earlier behavior and shared that they thought that I was a student “trying to get at them.” My only response was a nod of my head.
I guess that such is the fate of black men who are rendered invisible by the actions of other black males and even forced to carry much of the negativity that society projects onto all black males. While driving home that day, I reflected on the fact that although I relish my private space where I can think, write, and listen to jazz, there are some moments where being invisible is not preferable at all.
Staff Writer; Dr. James Thomas Jones III
Official website; http://www.ManhoodRaceCulture.com
One may also connect with this brother via Twitter; DrJamestJones.
