“Black men are in trouble. Serious trouble.”
Those were the words I led with for my first cover story with the Chicago Reporter, a nonprofit news organization covering issues of race, poverty and inequality. Published this month 25 years ago, the story was a first-person account of the challenges confronting Black men in Chicago and across the country.
I cited statistics about how often Black men are arrested and imprisoned. I shared figures on how often Black men are murdered, including data showing how often Black men kill each other. I highlighted the shorter life expectancy and lower levels of education achieved by Black men compared to others. And I wrote about how some Black men, including myself, grew up without their fathers and the indelible marks left behind by their absence.
My editor asked me to write the story in the first person to personalize and humanize the experiences of some Black men. I described the shared turmoil that many Black men feel when our lives are depicted in film and our struggles are highlighted in the media.
The public is bombarded with images and portrayals of Black men that fuel preconceptions about our morals, our abilities and our character. And the stark numbers and disparities about crime, unemployment and fatherless homes reinforce those perceptions.
I still cringe when I hear news accounts of violent acts perpetrated by Black men. That has never been my story, but I know that I can’t fully escape those negative portrayals. No matter how I dress, how I talk or what I say, some will still have doubts.
Those grim figures haven’t disappeared. But no matter how discouraging, the data simply confirms that a disproportionate number of Black men are having a rough time, making bad choices or committing violent acts. However, those depressing numbers don’t tell the full story of the lives and actions of Black men, and they don’t offer the complex web of factors that contribute to those negative outcomes.
In the 3,500 words I was afforded for my story, I tried to offer context for the plight facing Black men and the dedicated and passionate work being done to address those conditions.
I spoke to dozens of Black men about their own experiences, their thoughts and their research. They spoke of limited opportunities, the lure of fast money, and the pursuit of manhood by mimicking immature and superficial examples of masculinity, among other reflections.
I also met Black men working with Black boys in local schools, churches, community organizations and mentoring programs. They dedicated several hours each week teaching and training young Black men to handle the world around them — preparing them for the inevitable suspicions, low expectations and harsh reactions that awaited them, particularly when they stumbled.
“If we can develop a black boy from infancy, then we wouldn’t have a problem. We would take them out of the city and not give them back until they were 18,” said one educator who led a mentoring group. “We have to strengthen our boys so they can protect themselves. They don’t have any armor.”
Some Black men told me their lives were forever changed because they were guided by elders who steered them away from trouble, inspired them and bolstered their confidence to take a better path.
Without question, the plight demands our attention and our efforts. More of us need to get involved, but this isn’t a hopeless pursuit.
Others have written us off. For them, the statistics serve as proof of the depravity of Black men. Their solution is to lock us out of their neighborhoods and lock us up in their prisons. But their judgments aren’t equally applied.
From colonization to slavery to genocide, white men have committed some of the most grotesque atrocities in human history. And yet, white men don’t universally spark the fears of strangers when encountered in a dark alley. Indeed, white men shouldn’t be judged by the crimes of other white men. But Black men aren’t typically given that sort of grace. It doesn’t matter who’s on the FBI’s most wanted list, Black men have always been viewed as public enemy No. 1.
Stereotyping — on the basis of a few, self-selected statistics, a limited sample size of real-life experiences, or the narrow interpretations of Black life in mass media — only adds more weight to the burdens Black men are already carrying.
If you are troubled by the struggles of some Black men, and you’re not willing to work on the front lines to help address the structural racism and socioeconomic disparities they face, stop hating.
Instead, be silent, be still, and let brothers work it out.
Alden Loury is data projects editor for WBEZ and writes a column for the Sun-Times.
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