(a piece I wrote for Antioch's "Antiochracy")


Although pride is noted as one of the seven deadly sins, one cannot deny the important role it has played throughout our history. Take Jesus for instance. To say that Jesus didn’t have any pride would be naive. To say that love alone was the sole driving force in Jesus, giving him the strength to suffer on a cross for six hours is the stuff faith is made of. I’m willing to dodge a bolt or two and claim that pride played a part in Jesus’ strength. Is it possible that Jesus held his head high, turned himself in and let a lesser man take his life because deep down within himself he knew that he was the shit?

There are numerous examples throughout our history. Pride seems to have a silver lining, even when it seems disastrous or over zealous. Take George W. Bush for instance. Bush’s pride was so off putting that his effect on the psyche of the general public paved the way for our nation’s first black president. Ninety-nine percent of the political Left was pretty much guaranteed to vote for Barack Obama, but what got him in office was the utter devastation that Bush inflicted on the hearts and minds of Republicans. In the end it seemed that it all boiled down to pride. Bush wore his pride like a child wearing a Super-man Halloween costume in the middle of July, while Obama wore his like a tuxedo on Oscar night.

Every time I see an image of the President I am reminded of that pride; that which is vital to my own existence; that which must be taken; that which is a rite of passage for the black male— like a lion cub learns to hunt. We have seen what can happen when that rite of passage does not occur. When opportunities for pride are scarce it becomes a passage plagued by desperation.

Over my lifetime I have learned to cultivate a sense of Black pride for myself, my story and the story of those that came before me. I have learned that silence in the face of racism or ignorance leads to a complicity that only serves to undermine that pride. Early on I learned to confront attacks on my pride by balling fist, beating my chest and roaring. As I matured I began to identify with the Black pride of those that resisted oppression with weapons far greater than fist— wordsmiths and thought provokers. I learned the importance of carrying oneself with dignity and grace. Since I arrived at Antioch, I have appreciated discussions of race in classes such as Ron Wilkins’ class on Black and Brown relations, Dr. Elaine Parker-Gills class on Blacks in Media and the deep emotional considerations of race in the Master of Arts in Psychology class Society and the Individual. At their best discussions of race within this school are encouraged and instructors open Pandora’s box allowing its contents to touch all in the room. For the most part I have been able to cultivate my pride— my Black pride— through discussions that begin in class and continue in my mind.

A few weeks ago I realized that my sense of pride is not teflon. For the first time since I have been at Antioch I swallowed my own roar while sitting in class. As I sat in a workshop on the subject of domestic violence an exchange occurred. The exchange surrounded father’s rights within the family court system. A disparaging remark was made in reference to the rights that the State of California gives to fathers. It was implied that the rights went too far. Had this been a comment surrounding race, institutional racism, affirmative action etcetera, my Black pride would not have allowed me to remain silent. However in the context of fatherhood I was speechless. Although I felt a response bubbling deep within my chest I did not speak. Later on when the conversation attempted to continue in my mind, regrets for not speaking up blocked it out.

What I came to realize is that just as my Black pride has been allowed to develop throughout my lifetime, I must allow my Father pride to do the same. At twenty-nine years old my Black pride continues to grow— I must not forget that my Father pride is a mere ten years old and will require some nurturing. Just as I was forced to examine my place in society as a black male—past and current oppressions, struggles and successes—I must do the same as a father. I can remember the first time I watched Spike Lee’s “Malcom X,” starring Denzel Washington. At eleven years old the three and half hour movie flew by like a thirty-minute episode of “Different Strokes.” The movie had such an impact on my psyche, that to this day when I read the words of Malcom X, I hear Washington’s voice.

What the “Malcom X” did was give voice to emotions and feelings that lay dormant. It awoke in me a sense of pride inspired by Malcom’s journey. I was inspired by Malcom’s transformation from a flashy conk wearing hustler named Red, to the cool calm and assertive man who’s pride could be seen in the fire in his eyes; a man whose brain and tongue were as powerful any high a caliber rifle. As I grew older I began to realize that images of Black men such as this are far in between when it comes to popular culture. Even today black eleven year-olds rarely receive such images. They are instead fed large doses of images draped in a pseudo pride built on money and machismo— a form of oppression and psychological warfare.

Father pride is something all fathers should strive to cultivate. It is important to stand against the oppression that permeates our culture. Within popular forms of media the image of the father has been turned into a caricature of buffoonery. The image of the black father hardly exist while that of the white father is subjected to an endless cycle of responsibility dodging men incapable of accessing emotions, craving only sports, sex and food. The oppression not only permeates our cultures’ imagery, but our language as well.

There is a scene in “Malcom X,” where Malcom looks up the words “black” and “white” in the dictionary and is astonished by the differences in the definitions; by the inherent racism in the words used to describe each race. White is described as pure, while black is described as dirty. Similarly the power of language can be seen when discussing the oppression of fathers. Consider the use of the term “single-mother.” The use of the prefix “single” immediately evokes feelings of sympathy or pity. Whether by death or divorce the implication is that the mother has been deserted. The prefix is rarely given to fathers and when it is, ironically the evoked feeling of desertion is confirmed and magnified.

Single-fathers are considered cute, an anomaly like that of an endangered species. The image of the single-father exists within exaggerated circumstances where the mother is dead, unfit or has deserted her children. Movies such as Tyler Perry’s “Daddy’s Little Girls” portrays a father who is attending to his children at the expense of the image of the mother. The movie implies that the only way a single-father could exist is for the mother to be completely unfit. It is no secret that Perry is to black women what the Lifetime channel is to white women, therefore his pandering to continued messages of oppression of fathers is no surprise.

When considering the oppression of my fatherhood, just as with Black oppression, I have to consider who gains from this oppression. For example, within the context of racism exist the concept of “White Privilege.” Stay at Antioch long enough and you will examine Peggy McIntosh’s description of White Privilege as “an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools, and blank checks.” The continued oppression of fathers perpetuates a dynamic and continued cultural norm that is similar to that of White Privilege—however within parenthood we adapt the term and use it as “Mother Privilege.”

McIntosh developed a list of the “daily effects” of White Privilege. Below I have listed a few of her points and below them I have edited her points to give you a view of the concept through the framework of “Mother Privilege.” The italicized points are benefits that exist in the “invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions” of mothers.

1. I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented.
I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see parents of my sex represented.

2. When I am told about our national heritage or about "civilization," I am shown that people of my color made it what it is.
When I am told about parenting or about raising children, I am shown that people of my sex made it what it is.

3. I can criticize our government and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider.
I can criticize family court system and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a dead-beat parent.

4. If I declare there is a racial issue at hand, or there isn't a racial issue at hand, my race will lend me more credibility for either position than a person of color will have.
If I declare there is parenting issue at hand, or there isn't a parenting issue at hand, my sex will lend me more credibility for either position than a male will have.

5. My culture gives me little fear about ignoring the perspectives and powers of people of other races.
My culture gives me little fear about ignoring the perspectives and powers of fathers.


I note the above points, not in an effort to accuse or convict, but in an effort to provoke dialogue.

There is a photo of Malcom X standing at a window and peering out of the curtains with an M1 carbine in hand. The photo was published in Ebony magazine as an illustration of how serious Malcom was about protecting his family in response to death threats. For me, this image not only evokes feelings of Black pride but also feelings of Father pride. It is a photo that captures Malcom’s commitment to protecting his family as well as his resistance to outside attacks. This is the same type of resistance that I seek to replicate within my own life. Just as my struggle for Black pride is in no way based on the response of white or popular culture, my Father pride will not depend on the responses others. Just as I will not stand for continued attacks on my Black pride, I will defend my Father pride by any means necessary.