In the 1988 Spike Lee joint “School Daze,” there’s a pivotal scene at the end of the tension-filled movie that unapologetically explores cultural and social division based on colorism, classism and hair texture during homecoming weekend at a fictional HBCU. In the pivotal closing scene, the main character, played by Laurence Fishburne, is seen running towards the camera in a panic, continuously yelling “wake up!” The scene cuts to different characters highlighted in the movie being awakened from slumber by his loud imploration and all groggily walking out to a courtyard. The two main opposing characters, Giancarlo Esposito, who portrays the head of Greek fraternity, and Fishburne, a vocal Black activist, slowly approach each other as if they’re about to have a long-awaited showdown. My take on the scene is they finally realize that all the animosity they demonstrated towards each other throughout the movie was irrelevant, counterproductive and they needed to wake up if the culture was to survive and progress.
I graduated college back in 1999, but with so many similarities and parallels to the theme of this movie occurring with frequency and regularity in the communities comprised of Africans in America here, I get educated daily. I’m in an unenviable position that whenever crime rears its head in the form of gun violence, a homicide or other unfortunate major unlawful transgressions, I receive a deluge of messages, screenshots or videos of the crime scene. Several years ago, I received a video of a local gang with high-caliber weapons and drug paraphernalia as if they were shooting an episode of MTV Cribs. I saw it as Lifestyles of the Dumb and Delusional as it wasn’t too smart to narrate your illegal ill-gotten games on film for posterity. I have a great relationship with our incoming sheriff and an even stronger one with our police chief and I routinely share these things.
Last Sunday afternoon, about 30 minutes after the unfortunate homicide at the convenience store on the east side of town near the interstate, my phone started beeping and buzzing with messages. Within 10 minutes, the victim had been identified and conspiracy theory sleuths had come up with what led to the shooting. Yesterday, I received a message that was different in tone and it was obvious it was born out of frustration from the continued destruction, degradation and demise of young men of color in the city through senseless acts of violence. In the comment, I could hear his “wake up” being yelled in the interrogative sense screaming from my phone. The two-word phrase from the movie rang in my ear as I read his query so I decided to pose it to a wider audience by posting it on my personal Facebook page. He asked, “Where are all of the so-called politicians and folks that claim they are Black Leaders?”
I titled the post, “Let’s Discuss” and encouraged people to respond openly to his question. I prefaced the discussion by sharing how I’ve been asking that same question for over 30 years on my feeling that there’s no true genuine concern being placed on addressing the issue. Instead of receiving support, I’ve been condemned, criticized and labeled angry and divisive because I’ve had the courage to call out my own culture’s missteps and misdeeds along with the lack of genuine concern from those outside the community. I’ve seen the Black community here being ignored while simultaneously raped and pillaged of resources by people who only have an economic interest in its growth and development. Instead of resources, we’re offered pointless music festivals at the Bell Tower park where skinfolk can satiate themselves and line dance while being distracted from real issues until there’s a shooting at a gas station.
I told of how when I was on City Council, I fought hard for the West End, the poor and the economically disadvantaged. But a well-known Black so-called community leader told me I was “(f-ing) things up for other Black people” by being so vocal. Two white men approached me at meetings before I sat down in my council chair and told me I needed to “learn and understand my place.” Several years ago, a group of 30 civil rights-era people on the West End called me into the Miller Rec Center and told me that they were “ashamed, embarrassed and appalled” at the way that I talked to city leaders. A local Negropean pastor told me at DJ’s he couldn’t support me because I was too radical. When he was told Jesus was radical, he stormed off. A well-known white resident and former council member told me he agreed with my views on racism here but didn’t like the way I expressed them. I asked him if it would be better for him if I whispered.
The comments were sad to read but honest. One wrote, “We moved away from Salisbury about 12 years ago because there did not seem to be any positives at the time or a chance for change in the future. When I come back up there, I immediately get depressed because everything seems so lifeless and bleak.” Another said, I moved to Atlanta 24 years ago because I was sick and tired of Salisbury. I moved back 3 years ago and I stay out of the way.” And, “The problem is that if programs are put in place, people have to want to partake of those programs. In my 25 years of dealing with the population in Rowan County, it is amazing how many people can be provided with information on programs that can benefit their betterment long term, but they’re only interested in immediate fixes. We need to do better at raising our kids and take responsibility in our own neighborhoods. Kids today are bombarded by constant negativity that we only grazed the surface of when we were young. The uncomfortable truth is that the largest Black organizations should be in these neighborhoods teaching us how to get out of poverty, money management and steer people toward the importance of utilizing services that already exist but are underutilized. The police are not going to stand post at every house and most won’t interact with citizens personally because there is no beat cop anymore. All of them drive. We need our own solutions.”
Feel free to share your thoughts with me at klhardin65@gmail.com.
Kenneth L. “Kenny” Hardin is an alumni member of the National Association of Black Journalists.
