I’m 6’4” and 220 pounds give or take. I also have tattoos
that are largely visible covering my unexposed arms and legs. My tattoos are printed
symbolic choices and manifestations of tenets that I live by as a Christian and
as a Husband and Father. They are visible reminders of what I strive to live up
to day in and day out.
While my physical size and tattoos don’t seem to set my life
experiences apart from many folks living in America today, it’s the color of my
skin that does.
In 2015, there are still different Americas in existence.
We are a little over 50 years removed from the Civil Rights
Act of 1964 and around 47 years removed from its follow-up legislation, the
Civil Rights Act of 1968. Though I wasn’t alive then, I am somewhat of an
American history wonk, and have read about the laws and policies enacted to
ensure the rights and equal protections of Black Americans. I frequently ask my
parents and older peers for insight into how things were then and for any
reflection or thoughts on how they compare to modern-day America.
While I am accustomed to hearing the popular refrain from
many that “things have gotten better”, I am also accustomed to hearing from
most that “things haven’t changed that much” or in some cases I’ve been told
that things have actually gotten “worse” for people of color since that time.
I am always taken aback when I hear that. But when I look at
things through a professional lens (I work in public policy reform),
statistically speaking-things have gotten a lot worse for many people in this
Country-especially for people of color. For one, the wealth gap and medium home
income gap has grown into a chasm larger than it’s ever been. The rates of
imprisonment have grown dramatically despite historically low crime rates, and
the educational gap (even here in progressive Montgomery County) continues to
grow at an alarming rate.
Even with all of the progress that we have made here in
America, including the first election of a person of color to the Presidency,
the barriers no longer exist in signs displayed overtly as they did during the
Jim Crow era; instead our biases have invaded our systems and institutions
insidiously and carried on the harsh legacies of segregation and racism.
I read a fascinating report a few weeks back around a study
that was conducted at a law firm (not named). The law firm partners were given
the same sample memo written by a potential employee. ½ of the partners were
told the employee was White, and the other ½ were told the employee was
Black. On average the “White” employee’s
memo was given a score of 4.1 on a Likert scale of 5. The “Black” employee was
given an average score of 3.2 on the same scale. The “White” employee was
praised for his potential and analytical skills, while the “Black” employee was
said to be “average at best” and be in need of “lots of work.” This is how
“implicit bias” works, and how it continues to infect America in 2015.
I ponder bias daily in my line of work, and have seen as we
all have it play out on a large scale in the way communities of color are and
have been policed historically.
It seems as if not a week has passes as of late in which we
hear another awful story of the killing of a person of color during an
interaction with law enforcement. As a native Clevelander, I am all too
familiar with heavy-handed law enforcement and racial profiling at the hands of
some of our police officers. Having moved away from Cleveland at age 30 and
relocating here, I can honestly say that we have an excellent police force with
leadership that would not tolerate such actions. However, no matter how
well-intentioned our leadership is, they cannot control individual actions of
bias policing. My stomach turns each and every time my teenage son leaves my
sight. As his Father, I worry about his welfare and have spoken with him
numerous times about the importance being cognizant of his surroundings and
interactions with law enforcement or random people on the street. I know all too
well that he is viewed suspiciously because of his skin color, just as I was
and still am viewed by many I’m quite sure today. He is a very well mannered
and happy child, but the fact of the matter is that there are some interactions
for him that can lead to life and death circumstances that his White friends
may never understand.
So I ask myself often, what makes people cross the street at
dusk when they see me from a distance? What makes some people seem
uncomfortable with my presence when we’re on an elevator together? Is it my
physical stature? Is it the tattoos? Is it the color of my skin? I have a
feeling that it’s all of the above, but it seems to me that most people are
willing look past my size and tattoos. It’s the barrier of skin color in
America to this day that has proven to be one that’s most difficult for this
great nation to move beyond.
