Brother, brother

15th April 2014   ·   0 Comments

By Edmund W. Lewis
Editor

I got a call a couple of days ago from someone I hadn’t seen since my college days.

I first met Herb after a Black poetry event my fraternity brothers and I hosted every spring semester. While everybody else was already thinking about what Thursday night spot they might hit in Baton Rouge, he was kind of standing around like he was on a job interview. When our paths crossed near the exit, he nervously extended his hand and asked if I could show him how to read and recite poetry.

I agreed to share a few books with him and point him in the right direction.

As it turned out, he was a freshman looking for purpose and direction in an ocean of undergraduates. Before I knew it, I had been drafted to mentor him, eventually letting him borrow virtually every book in my ever-expanding collection and answering a never-ending list of questions about the plight of Africa and African people.

He had an infectious smile and a knack for making people laugh. He still does and is putting those people skills to good use in New York City.

He called last week to update me on his latest struggles and triumphs and to let me know about some of the challenges he currently faces as an aspiring writer and musician currently working a job as a financial manager. The hardest part, he said, was staying motivated and making sure that he honors his commitment to the two young cats he has been drafted to mentor at a NYC youth center.

He laughed and told me that he himself now finds himself telling his young charges many of the same things I told him when he was a freshman in college: Keep on keeping on, don’t back down from a challenge, free your mind, paddle your own canoe and dream with your eyes wide open.

Since my college days, I have found myself revisiting the role of mentor for a number of young men including budding writers, scholars and activists. One of my favorite young charges was William, a brilliant student and athlete from Bishop Perry Middle School.

William had the wisdom and self-control of the elders while he displayed an incredible command of the written word and was a wizard on the basketball court.

I knew that he couldn’t have become the amazing young cat he was without the love, guidance, protection and encouragement of his mother, extended family, teachers and other members of the village. With all of that love and devotion, he was destined to succeed.

My mind also races back to a young brother named Bryant who went from being considered an at-risk youth from a small Louisiana country town to a college grad and successful businessman in Maryland.

I’d like to take credit for all of that, but I knew he had a lot of people on his team, rooting for him and challenging him to be all he can be.

Whenever I read about or hear some depressing news about the plight of young Black and Brown men, I turn to the letters Bryant wrote me after graduating from college thanking me for playing a role in his growth and development. I will carry those letters and other reminders of the time spent trying to inspire young people for the rest of my days.

The next time you cross paths with a young brother or sister, think about the people in your life that made a difference and take the time to look into the hearts and minds of these young people who are desperately in need of positive role models and a reason to be.

Tell them your story and help them to understand that it is the role and responsibility of every member of the village to keep them focused on what they need to do to grow into creative, dynamic and productive human beings.

It occurred to me years ago that one of the reasons barbershops are so critical to the survival and development of Black men and boys is the fact that there are few institutions in the community that do such an exemplary job of bringing together men and boys of all ages to form such a dynamic multigenerational network of Black men who possess a wide spectrum of resources, perspectives and skill sets. It’s like Wikipedia for Black men.

In barbershops, Black boys get to learn from the stories of their fathers, grandfathers, uncles and cousins and get a front-row seat as Black men debate the issues of the day and give testament to their survival, communication and conflict-resolution skills. They get to see Black men playfully teasing one another and laughing and smiling without worrying about looking soft, weak or dangerous to the rest of the world. They get to see Black men take off the mask that society compels Black men, and indeed all Black people, to wear and simply be themselves.

We have to do our best to make sure that every Black boy in America has access to a father figure — whether it be a biological parent, uncle, grandfather, older brother or cousin — who can lead them confidently and proficiently into responsible, life-affirming adulthood.

It is through men that boys learn what it takes and means to be a man, and when those agents of guidance, stewardship and protection aren’t available to youth, their growth and development are severely impeded.

It also occurred to me years ago that female-headed households are not the problem in communities of color — there are a myriad of examples of Black women successfully raising strong, well-adjusted boys and guiding them safely into adulthood. The problem is entire communities that offer at-risk youth very little in the way of positive male influences. Violence, chronic health problems and the pro wing prison industrial complex have seen to it that there are many communities of color where Black men are missing in action. Growing up in a household without a father really becomes a problem when there are no grandfathers, uncles, big brothers, older cousins, teachers, coaches, counselors and mentors to take up the slack.

Without them, at-risk youth have no one to turn to when they need somebody to talk to, somebody to talk them down from making a life-changing bad decision or someone to help them earn a few extra dollars to take a young sister to the movies or out for a bite to eat. Without these stewards, Black youth have no one who has been through what they have been through that is willing to take the time to steer them in the right direction, no one to celebrate their milestones and help them to learn all of the things that only someone who has walked a mile in your shoes can teach you and no one to put them in check when they need to be put in check.

With them, as the Williams, Bryants and Herbs have proven repeatedly, the sky’s the limit.

This article originally published in the April 14, 2014 print edition of The Louisiana Weekly newspaper.