Why I Walk

I walk for Juanita

She did not ask me to.

In fact, I’m sure she’d rather I didn’t

No, she’s not ashamed

She’s just wishes a walk wasn’t necessary

She is not nasty

You can touch her

You can kiss her

You can breathe the air she exhales

It is not poisonous

She loves politics but hates politicians

She is beautiful

She is kind

She’s the kind of woman that would give to you 

and say, “I’ll try to see if I can get you some more”.

She was a heavy drinker

She is sober now

She did not choose mates well, save, for my father

She paid for that many times before her diagnosis

I cursed God, the day it happened.

She did not deserve this

This is a woman who slept with me

This is a woman who slept with men for me

This is a woman. 

A woman’s woman and a real mother

So I walk

I walk for Juanita

I walk for sons like me

I walk because she always told me to keep on keepin on.

I walk because this disease is a bitch and a bastard that must be stopped

I walk because I’m angry

I walk because she taught me to walk

I walk because she taught me well. 

I walk hoping no one else falls.

That’s why I walk.

(Support AIDS Walk New York, May 12, 2010, Central Park)

Where’s the Love?

 If you need to know how we met, where we met, what was going on when we met you can go here djdiva.blogspot.com. 

I want to talk about today. 

I feel the need to let you know that I am very much in love with the ass (the caboose) I married. 

I feel the need to let you know that the woman she is, is just fine by me, even if, it isn’t fine by you. 

I feel the need to let you know that I have a talented woman of substance. 

I feel the need to let you know that my marriage is strong, enriching, and fulfilling. 

I feel the need to let you know that I am not threatened by anyone’s fame or occupation…she comes home to me.

I feel the need to write about my DJ…DJ DIVA.

I used to write love posts about my wife all the time and for good reason,  they were my way of telling everyone and her I’M IN LOVE!!!!!!!  and look at her..ISN’T SHE GOREGOUS???  As with many relationships, the flowers and poems stop once life together starts.   I said that wouldn’t happen to me…it did.  I can’t tell you the last time I gave her flowers.  I can tell you that I have massaged her once in the last couple of months and that was last night.  I can tell you that I haven’t washed her body or cooked her favorite meal in what seems like forever.  Why?  Well honestly if you read my post from yesterday you could get a since of what has been going on with me.  Still.  There is no excuse.  If you want to be loved hard, you have to love hard.  If you want to be cared about, thought of and considered, you got to be those things and do them selflessly.  Sounds obvious right?  Well not when you engage in the practice of passive agressive loving.  

The demands of family and work has this way of sucking all the romance out of you.  I used to get home from work and run my wife a bath and then go into whatever it was I had to do.  When she’d get home and see the bath guess what she thought?…my man loves me.  Later into my marriage, I’d get home and get into whatever I had to do sans bath or anything else.   I’d come home tired and say, well, she’ll understand or well, she didn’t do this for me, or didn’t do that for me, so why should I bother?  I got to the point where I started to feel justified in not doing anything romantic because in my mind, what I WAS  doing should have been enough.   When she’d get home guess what she’d start thinking…he don’t love me like he used to.   I feel comfortable writing this because I’ve read enough tweets and posts to know I have plenty of company. 

I’ve learned you simply can’t love your wife by doing the dishes. 

You can’t love your wife by cooking  Spaghetti and or taking the kids out of the house. 

To love your wife is to love the things that affect her directly, the other things supplement that love.

THAT is loving hard. 

My relationship with my wife represents the longest I have ever been with a woman.  Simply put, I haven’t been with a woman long enough to make her feel I wasn’t in love with her like I used to be.  I truly had no idea what effect this had on a woman’s psyche. I thought if I was a good provider and willing to make a happy home that made me a husband.  Case Closed.   Nah, it just made me a babysitter and a housemate (not a roommate, roommates don’t help with homework..ahem).  A good husband loves attentively and yes, agressively.  A good husband is an active participant in the happiness of his wife.  A good husband looks forward to giving and showing his wife “real love”.  

My wife deserves her husband back.   She has picked herself up from the death of her father, dusted herself off and made herself whole again.  She has given life and influence to many of her friends and family.  She has given our daughters a woman to look to when they need an example of strength, resolve, and integrity.  She validates the idea that marriage is truly the best investment a man can make with his life, despite all the rhetoric to the contrary.   She gives me hope and excitement for our future.  She provides the salt, sugar and cream of our union and I want her to know, I want her friends to know, and I want you to know

She has a HUSBAND and he loves the ass (caboose) he married.  

Who and What I am

 

I apologize. 

 I have been through some serious self-discovery. 

Whenever I think of my life in its totality I think of the Coldplay song that begins “When I counted all my demons…saw there was one for every day….”   The words are so fitting because I have been dragging around the same emotional garbage for a little over a decade and it has wreaked havoc in every corner of my life.   

It was time to let that shit go. 

What some don’t know about me is that I left school early.  Its nothing I’m proud of.  Someone on twitter (@_itsjas) wrote”  College is for fucking up…well I fucked up.  Short story:  a woman.  Long Story: another post.  When I left school my foster mother was very clear about my future, and this is a direct quote:  ”You’ll be stuck in some dead end job and taking orders for the rest of your life. You’ll be a loser, period.”    This came from the woman who plucked me out of the hell that was crack-era Harlem and thrusted me into the jew,  jewy,  jewish world of Teaneck, New Jersey.  Teaneck.  Home to Bischoff’s Ice Cream (need to go back there), empty parks, little league baseball, and silence.   Hell to heaven in a little over 6 miles and I only had to cross a river, not part one.   I suppose I should be thankful,  at least she didn’t tell me that I would be ganged raped by a pack of diseased animals and fucked with a clap-infested dildo, I mean that might of have hurt my feelings and scarred me for years to come.   

Actually, that’s exactly what they did.

In my determination to show her I wasn’t going to be a failure, I failed to count my defeats as lessons, hung onto to them too long, and internalized them.    I gave too much power to people who didn’t care about me falsely  believing I didn’t deserve better.  In my determination to prove her wrong, I took jobs that were beneath me and allowed others who I was more talented than to move ahead of me.   I behaved in ways that were equally so and gave many a false impression of my real character.  In my determination to prove her wrong, I shifted blame from myself to others and failed to claim personal responsibility.  How the hell could any of this be my fault? I didn’t ask to be poor?  I didn’t ask to go to school with holes in my sneakers, dirt around my ankles, lice in my hair. I ain’t suppose to have shit anyway because I come from shit.  I was a black and poor from Harlem.  I was a kid who used to be happy to have a roof and something to eat and I held on to that impoverished way of thinking as an adult.  I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE SHIT BECAUSE I COME FROM SHIT.  My foster mother did everything she could to inspire me to greatness. Even her words weren’t meant to discourage me  The only way she could have succeeded is if she had at birth me herself.  By the time I got to her, I had already convinced myself that this was the way it was supposed to be.  

Most of the “aha” moments in my life involve my smile.  Or the lack of it.   When I met my wife, the woman who gave me my smile back, I knew,  ”aha” I found my wife.  And I found a temporary salve for my unhappiness.  I say temporary because I unfairly attached my happiness to our relationship.  Fellas, don’t do that.  Dumb shit.   

With the onset of a new season, I decided enough was enough.  It was time to admit that I wasn’t happy and nothing and no one was going to change that.  When you are as unhappy as I was you tend to look for happiness in other places like marriage and kids, but that is unsustainable because at the root of (un)happiness is you.   If I was going to be happy, I would have to claim that happiness from within.  This “aha” moment came when I looked at a baby on the train last month  and turned away in disgust.  Who does that?  Everybody smiles at babies, why the fuck was I so angry?   I used to bop the streets with my smile.   My smile has been known to make panties grow wings and ish….Why the fuck was I giving everybody the “Nigga, I will fuck you up” look????   

I had a talk with my wife this weekend, well actually, it was more like a listen, she did the talking.  She told me I had not identified a passion of mine to her because I had not discovered them within myself.   “You are a strong black man, with so much to offer, you love writing, sports and politics.”  Why have you just dropped it all?   And therein laid the answer to the question that has plagued me for years, why?

I went to church on Sunday, asked for forgiveness…I wasn’t sure I was going to make into the building, and thought I saw lightening.   Do expect setbacks?  Yes.  Do I expect to move forward?  Hell yeah.  What’s the most important thing you’ve learned from this? 

There is a little voice in your head that tells you who and what you are, don’t talk to it…listen to it. 

You, my friend, are fucking great!

HARLEM AND THE NYPD

HARLEM AND THE NYPD

The NYPD in Harlem has created a toxic atmosphere between themselves and many of its residents.  To live in Harlem is to see NYPD towers peering down on you with Cameras pointed in all four directions.  To be a young black or hispanic male in Harlem is to be treated with a total lack of respect and real expectation of being harrassed, incarcerated, or both.  To live in Harlem is to watch quality of life crimes pursued only when they threaten the more affluent parts of Harlem or when they fill an economic need.  To live in Harlem is to live with a police force that you neither trust or expect to serve you in a real way. 

The Youth

Normally, there are two officers to greet the kids dismissing from A. Phillip Randolph Campus High School.  I don’t mind this as a police presence will normally thwart the threat of violence.   However, there were at least 5 officers to do so on this particular day and they were not treating these kids like Mayberry’s finest.  To the contrary, they talked to these kids as if they had a committed a crime by going to school.  I immediately thought of Bob Herbert of the New York Times who wrote an article earlier this month entitled “Cops v. Kids”.  Indeed, NYPD needs to be reined in when comes to their treatment of young, minority, students in Harlem.  The dynamic they create is an US v. THEM one in which kids are rewarded and praised amongst themselves for ignoring and/or challenging the police in a way that will almost ensure they are incarcerated, fined or both. This is wrong on so many levels.  If the police want respect from the youth, it could start by showing them some. 

Quality of Life

Do quality of life crimes really matter?  Depends on whose quality of life you are talking about.  If you live on Striver’s Row, your quality of life is of the utmost importance.  None shall hangout on pain of severe punishment.  However, if you live on the corner of 135^th Street and Seventh Avenue, your quality of life means very little.  On this particular corner there is a Popeye’s Chicken Restaurant that has become a de-facto hangout for drug dealers, gang members, and transients.  In the winter months, it’s pretty benign with much of the hanging being done inside the restaurant.   As the weather warms the scene gets very different.   Cars blaring music park, those hanging out double both inside and outside the restaurant.  It probably doesn’t help that there is a Liquor store right next door, which makes it convenient for these people to drink in public and create a public disturbance.  Keep in mind that less than a half-block away is the 32^nd PCT which for some reason cannot keep this corner free of such nonsense.  This is the very same police station that will hide in the darkest corners of St. Nicholas Housing to harass people for leaving out of a fire exit, but when it comes to clearing off a corner turns a blind eye.  I use this corner as an example, but 145^th Street is probably worse, unless of course you live on or near Sugar Hill, then, and only then, will the quality of your life begin to matter.   This makes me question whether the police in Harlem are more concerned with actual crimes committed, crime prevention, or economics. 

When the Sun Comes Out  

This past weekend gave a preview into what the Summer will be like.  After a long, hard winter and temperatures nearing 70, the neighborhood understandably came outside.  I could not believe how many police officers I saw.  I saw cops on the street, in supermarkets, corner stores, outside of churches, department stores–I did not see them outside of Popeye’s.   In other words, Harlem can expect to be over policed and underserved.  The consequences of which will be dire.  Of the 3700 homicides in the city from 2003-2009 61% of the victims were Black compared to 8% for White people.  With the kind of policing being done in Harlem, I don’t see that trend changing at all. I see this Summer being one of the more bloodier ones–particularly if the economy does not bounce back in a real way, which from all indications it will not. 

What’s the Message????

I see the criminally minded becoming more emboldened because the message is clear…it’s not a crime, until someone with money says it is.  The NYPD has to create a better relationship with the people of Harlem.  Right now, when I see someone getting arrested, I immediately think, “Is that justified?”.  There should be no doubt about that, but there is because I truly do not trust the NYPD and that is a feeling that is shared amongst many.  When a crime is clear and a neighborhood is besieged by a group of thug-wannabes and substance abusers, there should be a real response to that.  When kids are being kids, i.e. being loud, maybe the response should be “Okay guys, move it along” instead of “Who’s spending the weekend with me?” or “Move your asses!”   

Harlem is my home, I was raised here and know that it has gotten better in many areas.  That being said, we deserve better.

15 Questions You Should Answer Before Getting Married

This post came as a result of a questionnaire published by the New York Times. 

Relationship experts report that too many couples fail to ask each other critical questions before marrying. Here are a few key ones that couples should consider asking:

1) Have we discussed whether or not to have children, and if the answer is yes, who is going to be the primary care giver?

 Yes we want one more.  I’m not sure who will be the primary care giver, but I plan to be very involved in my child’s life.  That’s something we have discussed.   

2) Do we have a clear idea of each other’s financial obligations and goals, and do our ideas about spending and saving mesh?

Yes, yes and sort of…I’m getting better.  Diva’s the saver, I’m the spender…I am now in spontaneous spending rehab….one day at a time y’all.

3) Have we discussed our expectations for how the household will be maintained, and are we in agreement on who will manage the chores?

Yes. We are in agreement that Black Man Cometh and Diva can’t stand filth and don’t  wait around wondering who’s gonna clean something, we just do it.

4) Have we fully disclosed our health histories, both physical and mental?

 Yes.  I’m happy and healthy…and so am I.

 5) Is my partner affectionate to the degree that I expect?

Yes. Oh yes.

6) Can we comfortably and openly discuss our sexual needs, preferences and fears?

Yes.   

7) Will there be a television in the bedroom?

Yes, and a bed, and some pillows, and a dresser, and an XBOX and a…..

8) Do we truly listen to each other and fairly consider one another’s ideas and complaints?

 Yes.  And that has been the most refreshing thing I’ve found in this relationship, Diva and I could disagree with each other over something, but at all times we remain considerate.  We don’t just dismiss each other. 

 9) Have we reached a clear understanding of each other’s spiritual beliefs and needs, and have we discussed when and how our children will be exposed to religious/moral education?

 Yes.  This has probably put some fear in some people close to us because honestly we’re not as church going as we used to be, but make no mistake,  God is present and prominent in our home.  I believe the twins have a healthy and appropriate  understanding of God  for their ages.

 10) Do we like and respect each other’s friends?

 Yes. Even though some of them make fun of me.  Don’t think I don’t know!

 11) Do we value and respect each other’s parents, and is either of us concerned about whether the parents will interfere with the relationship?

 Yes we respect and value them, and no, were not concerned.  In fact, we’ve come to expect interference.     

 12) What does my family do that annoys you?

 Its annoying when they try to make Diva feel less than herself.  She shouldn’t be dulled or held up by people who think she should be a certain way, she is who sh is…DIVA… and for me that’s perfect.  I love the lady.

 13) Are there some things that you and I are NOT prepared to give up in the marriage?

 Stan (wouldn’t you like to know?) and my BlackBerry.  I’m keeping both.

 14) If one of us were to be offered a career opportunity in a location far from the other’s family, are we prepared to move?

Depends, we’ve discovered we are New Yorkers through and through so a move would have to be worth it.

 15) Do each of us feel fully confident in the other’s commitment to the marriage and believe that the bond can survive whatever challenges we may face?

 As long as we got each other, we gon be alright.  Fear not Godmother.  Your baby is in good hands.  

DJ DIVA – The Love of My Life (orginally published in 2006)

I have been a sensitive, emotional mess these last few weeks. Do men PMS? Okay that sounds kind of um…”happy” Still. It really is time to take off the dress, kill the waterworks, and stop the tea party. I’m a man after all and men “man up”. Yesterday, the world as one comedian said, tapped me on the shoulder and said…”Hey its me, the world, and you’re gonna cry today.” So after I let loose on the Staten Island Ferry, I realized all the great things about my life, and how much love I’m getting from home. I’m blessed y’all so blessed.

The Twins.

T & T started the first full week of school this week. Diva and I take turns each night reading to them for at least a half-hour. When a child reads one day, and then reads better two days later, and then even better a day later, you feel so proud. Diva got them “Judy Blume” books to read on their own. I usually read Arthur or Disney tales. THEY LOVE IT. You have to remember that I’ve never had children embrace me like these two girls. When I walk through the door they bumrush me. When I tell them something, they listen and respond. One a little slower than the other, but they respond nonetheless. The credit must be given to their mother. She ensures that they know that they must listen to me. And I think I do a good job of getting them to trust me not tell them anything wrong. My ex-wife used to take delight in seeing me struggle with her boys, that’s why I started whooping ass. You laugh, but it worked. After a couple of bathroom sessions with the shower on…I’d say jump to one of them, not realizing they were already in the air!

Diva is the disciplinarian and she don’t play. I’m the softie, but I make sure I don’t make her the “bad guy” Like I said before, “I giveth plenty, and I taketh away swiftly” When we decide to discipline they know that not only do I agree with the discipline but I’m partially responsible for it. When they came home, we laid down some new rules to them. And together we both let them know…this school year…we’re not tolerating any lack of interest in education. None. So they know, Scribe is nice, but he aint playing. You will learn.

The other day, I watched Diva reading to them and having such a good time, I walked over and whispered in her ear “I’m proud of you” She loved that. I was too, so many parents are too tired or too something to take time out for their children. Diva and I are usually exhausted after work, but we push it because we know how important it is. I’ve agreed to escort them to the babysitter in the morning before catching the bus to work. Its a short walk but one I’ve begun to look forward to. I start the walk with one question…”Okay…who’s the smartest 3rd graders ever?” Response. “We are.” Maybe there is something to this encouragement thing. If there are two more encouraged people I’d like to meet them, because these girls don’t know the word can’t. When they can’t do something, they get mad and keep trying…I love that, I absolutely love that. Who do you think that comes from?…it damn sure ain’t me. I just got here. Its Diva. Diva doesn’t allow them to quit on themselves. Even if it means letting them have it verbally, they know they are capable. She often asks me “am I too hard on them” my answer is always “No.” We live in a neighborhood, where kids lose hope at ,10 years of life. “No.” We live in a neighborhood, where girls get pregnant at 16. “No” We live in a neighborhood where boys “get in that ass” at 13…”No!” My thinking is that the world will be harder on them then she can ever be. They need the discipline and love that only a mother can give to her daughter. I am proud to say, Diva is a great a$$ mother. Me? I’m just going along for the ride and enjoying every minute. These girls are gonna be special, they already are and I’m going to be around when they blossom and achieve their full-potential.

RECOGNITION

It is a credit to Diva that she sees the the “quiet strength” in me. I’m not very intimidating, amiable to a fault sometimes, 6″2′, light skinned and 170lbs…not exactly Ray Lewis of the Baltimore Ravens okay. Nor do I want to be. I love who I am and how I rock. Some women, sadly, have taken that the wrong way…thinking they can just walk all over me. Nah man…Scribe don’t play that punk sh*t. I’ve cut women off and deaded them forever for playing me soft. But I never have to defend my manhood, nor is it ever questioned. In fact, Diva has really made me even stronger as a person. She constantly tells me how happy she is to have a “real man” in the house. She always shows appreciation for even the little things. Even the things I “should” do.

She sees that “manhood” isn’t about intimidation, its about having the fortitude to stand, provide, and deliver. Its also about sacrificing your wants for the needs of your family. I’ve been trying to get someone to love me like that for I don’t know how long. For the last 4 months (4 YEARS NOW!!!!), I’ve had that person.

When I first laid eyes on Diva, I said to myself, “I’m keeping her.” Some how, some way she’s gonna be mine. That was Day 1. We are on month 4 and she’s mine…Oh yes she’s mine. And I’m so proud. There is a God. There really is. Be blessed today. I am.

I love you Diva!

Are HBCU’s Still Relevant and Necessary…Yes!

In 1967, Harvard professors Christopher Jencks and David Riesman wrote a journal article for the Harvard Educational Review entitled “The American Negro College”. In it, they called Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU’s) “Academic Disaster Areas”. The article caused quite a stir on HBCU campuses around the country and there were a number of responses to refute what was obviously a gross mischaracterization of these academic institutions. The damage from that article is still being felt as HBCU’s continue to fight not only for their reputations, but for their very existence. A question is being asked in many circles where these issues matter:

Are Historically Black Colleges and Universities Necessary?

Before I give my answer to that question, I should note that I attended Howard University, an HBCU, and am not sure if my experience could have been greater at ANY other institution, black or otherwise. Having said that, not only do I believe they are necessary, but I believe their demise, will have dire consequences in the African- American community for generations to come.

The Difference Is…

Having attended both a predominately white institution (PWI) and an HBCU my feeling is that one of the differences lies in expectation level. At HBCU’s expectations of black students are high regardless if you’re a diamond in the rough student or not. Many professors will double as guidance counselors to instill in a borderline student the confidence that they can achieve. In other words, they will work with you. I can say from experience that I did not feel that at the PWI I attended. At Hunter College, the attitude of my professors was basically, here’s the material, here’s the exam, there’s the door when you’re done. Another difference is that HBCU’s campuses are often small and tight-knit communities, complete with reminders of which gives students a feeling that they aren’t just another set of student ID numbers. Anyone who has visited a major PWI knows, most PWI campuses are like mini towns, complete with a mall, a bank, a stadium and multiple dining halls. So the experience for young black man or woman attending an HBCU is often more enriching and affirming than it is at a PWI. I am not going to address the “partying” issues of either type of school in-depth since its my belief that “partying” is part of the college experience. How much, and how we party is irrelevant. Whether its keg parties complete with Jello shots or Hennessey and weed parties, to me its all the same ish…gettin’ high.

MY story not HIStory

Because of their unique position in the social and political struggle of African-Americans, HBCU’s have become the gatekeepers of African-American history. Anyone who’s has ever been to the Moorland-Spingarn Research Library at Howard University can attest to this assessment. It was in this building that Thurgood Marshall and others began work on the Brown v. Board case. Nevermind the plethora of doctors, lawyers, educators, entertainers, inventors, that have come from these institutions. We tend to forget that there was a time where HBCU’s were the ONLY option a black person had to go to school. We tend to forget that the figures who made and continue to make our history are alumni and alumnae of these schools. When I discovered how many named scholars come from HBCU’s I was shocked. Since 1998, Howard University ALONE University has produced two Rhodes Scholars, a Truman Scholar, a Marshall Scholar, 19 Fulbright Scholars and 10 Pickering Fellows. This from a school once labeled, an “academic disaster area”. Howard University Medical school was described as “a school that would have been closed a long time ago, if it were not the only option for negroes in medicine.” Today, Howard produces more on-campus African-American Ph.D. recipients than any other university in the United States. Some may say, well, Howard is part of the “HBCU Ivy League” (Morehouse, Fisk, Spelman, Hampton, Wilberforce, etc.). I would submit to you General William “Kip” Ward of Morgan State University in Baltimore. General Ward is the highest ranking African-American in the military and its only black four-star general. My point isn’t to give you a who’s who of HBCU’s, but to make clear, that these schools produce excellence. That excellence, is an important part of who we are today. Preservation of these schools ensures that we are at least on the playing field, even if it isn’t always level. These schools tell and keep our story in this country. There is no   history as there is at PWI’s, our contributions to this country is recounted, counted, and preserved at HBCU’s and that is yet another reason why they are necessary.

Why Folks Have a Problem

As with everything, HBCU’s do not come without their faults. One of the major ones that people bring up is the idea that HBCUs do not provide you with a realistic view of the world. Very few people go on to work in an environment where black people are in the majority. Curiously, I’ve worked in more than a half-dozen places where that was the case, but I digress. Many people believe that HBCU’s provide you with a false sense of reality, meaning that they get you accustomed to the idea of working with people who look like you. The United States is a very diverse place. While there is some level of diversity that can be gained from dealing with black people who are from different places, it is not quite the same as having to work with white, Indian and Asian people for example, which is an experience that you would have at a non-HBCU. It is important to note however that just because you haven?t worked with many people of different races in the past does not mean that you won’t be able to at all. Some people are just simply better at dealing with situations like this. Attending a college with a more diverse student body simply allows you to gain more experience with dealing with people who are not like you. Black students today now have the option to attend just about any institution that they want to. Due to some affirmative action rules, there are many schools that are trying to diversify their population even more and are offering scholarships to students who attend traditionally white institutions. For this reason and a few others, people feel that affirmative action hurts HBCU’s. To understand this, you have to understand that of course, affirmative action was not created just for black people. It is made for people who are in the minority. As far as HBCU’s go, white people are in the minority. Part of the thing about HBCU’s is their rich tradition. Some HBCU’s have been worried that they will lose some of the tradition involved because many of them have had to lower their entrance standards and also accept students of other races. This problem has resulted in some HBCU’s not being HBCU’s anymore. Some schools have gone from having 80% of their population being African-American to 15% being African-American.

Everybody wants a piece, but y’all want a BIGGER piece

2 billion That’s it. 2 billion. This is the total endowment of all HBCU’s in the country combined. To give you a sense of how small that is, one school, Harvard, has an endowment of nearly 40 billion dollars. That’s the same endowment of Williams College–one school with 1,000 fewer students than Morehouse as a friend of mine pointed out to me today. It is no wonder that so many HBCU’s are now gearing up for 5-10 year fundraising campaigns…they’re broke! It is clear, that funding for HBCU’s is no priority for the Bush Administration as it has proposed to cut 85 million dollars or 35% of the funding for HBCU’s from last year. With that in mind, alumnae and alumni have become even more important in sustaining and preserving HBCU’s. If alumni participation rates do not improve, we will see more and more schools close and with them generations of tradition and history. It takes five minutes to send 25, 35, 50 dollars to your college. You may not think its alot, but small donations are the foundation of all fundraising efforts. HBCU’s are no different. What this also reveals in my view, is the ability of HBCU’s to maximize what little it does have. 80% of all students attending HBCU’s still require some form of financial aid. According to Diverse Magazine, HBCUs represent only 3 percent of all colleges and universities, but they enroll close to one-third of all Black students. Forty percent of HBCU students pursue four-year degrees in science, technology, engineering and math, and about half of all Black students in teaching fields attended HBCUs. To me that is amazing, and as the president of Johnson C. Smith College said, ” If we didn’t exist, you would have to create us.” I concur, HBCU’s are that important. Instead of cutting funding and questioning the necessity of these schools, we should be focusing on how we can improve on the already solid successes of these institutions, they are a worthy investment.

The Answer is….Y-E-S!

HBCU’s are as vital to the viability of America as they’ve ever been. They are without a doubt a necessity and those that would find fault with how these schools function, is failing to see the big picture. In a country that gives millions to black men and women who throw, run, catch, sing, strip, and rap, we should be willing to give millions to those who lead, create, and achieve beyond the possible. We cannot and we must not allow these institutions to fall under the ideas that they are a holdover from segregation or that somehow the quality of education is inferior to PWI’s. Both ideas are flawed, and the arguments for either are usually based in racist and elitist thought. HBCU’s serve a population of this country that desperately needs them and a majority population that would be wise to support them.