The House that Race and Wealth Built

Image Credit: thinkprogress.com

I have never been totally alone in this world. I am a white, single mother of two (both daughters) and I have always had the safety net of my family’s resources. My family is not rich—at least not in my mind—but they are solidly middle class. Perhaps a century or two ago, they would have been considered upper class. The bottom line today, though, is that they have been fortunate enough to accumulate a small measure of wealth and pass it from one generation to the next. I own my home because my mother gifted me $7,000 for a down-payment and closing costs; I could not have purchased it otherwise. I have never feared homelessness or hunger.

            As a result of my own wastefulness and poor decisions, I have squandered multiple opportunities. My daughters and I live paycheck-to-paycheck, while I work full-time and take college course three-quarter time. I am going to college because I do not want to live paycheck-to-paycheck for the rest of my life; I am going to college because I want to be able to do for my daughters what my family has always done for me: provide a measure of financial stability, a sense of safety. I cannot pretend to imagine what the reality of being resource-less feels like—and I am afraid of it. It is precisely this sense of financial insecurity and instability that a majority of black single mothers live with every day. What if I lose my job? Which bill can I not pay this month so that we can buy enough food to eat? What if we lose our home? Whenever I have worried, my answer to these questions has always been that—thankfully—my grandmother and my mom were/are there for me, to help, to reassure me and ultimately, to pay my way when I could not. 

21st century America: Ironies in the racial wealth gap

 

Image Credit: abiederman.com

           Today’s ever-enlarging racial wealth gap is particularly ironic for several reasons: slavery was abolished well over a century ago. In fact, the beginning of 2013 marked 150 years since Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. It has been 50 years since the Civil Rights Act abolished Jim Crow laws. Barack Obama, our first black president, is partway through his second term. By all accounts, overt racism and discrimination are no longer the laws of the land. So . . . we are moving forward, right? Wrong. The irony is that even though overt discrimination is no longer rampant, we are not moving forward. Ironically, we are moving backward; in terms of wealth disparity, the gap is widening—and quickly, too.

Understanding the wealth gap: History as an essential element

            History is essential for understanding the widening wealth gap between whites and blacks, because it results from an accumulation of historical and present-day social policies. Consider for a moment, that race and value in America are connected from birth: black babies cost less to adopt, “Six Words: 'Black Babies Cost Less To Adopt' : NPR.”

With regard to the legacy of slavery, wealth accumulation was impossible for slaves—who, because they were themselves considered property—had no right to accumulate property (wealth). Wealth is an intergenerational function of white American society. Different from income, wealth are assets (savings accounts, investments, properties)—and for many white Americans, family assets and resources lay the foundation for the opportunities of future generations. Like I noted earlier, I would not have been able to purchase my home had it not been for my mother’s resources—her ability to pass a measure of her wealth along to me for my down-payment and closing costs.

Image Credit: phi2010.blogspot.com

 

            In addition to a national legacy of slavery, American socio-economic policies in the 20^th century restricted wealth accumulation in black communities while promoting it in white communities. For example, restricted access for non-whites to loans through the Federal Housing Administration’s home appraisal system (redlining), white flight from urban areas and—as recently as the 21^st century—Adjustable Rate Mortgages and predatory lending practices in the financial industry have all contributed to the burgeoning wealth gap. Just last week, the Supreme Court paved the way for increasingly restrictive and discriminatory voting rights laws by undoing a key component of the 1965 Voting Rights Act. Wealth disparity is an accumulation of historical and present-day socio-economic policies that favor whites.

Can we understand the wealth gap without understanding history?

            In a word: no. Wealth disparity between blacks and whites in America must be viewed from a systems perspective. In family counseling, we use the concept of the family as a system to contextualize the individual within their family of origin: all members of a family influence and impact one another—and, therefore, all members are influenced and impacted by others. The individual does not stand alone. To address individual issues/problems, the whole must be viewed as a dynamic, multigenerational and interrelated system. So, too, must the expanding wealth gap in America be interpreted and addressed from a systems perspective; to isolate one source as the single cause for disparity belies the complexity of our interconnectedness. Just as families pass wounds from one generation to another that require healing, so it has been with the lack of wealth accumulation for black Americans. As Melvin Oliver (in a PBS interview, “Black Wealth in America”) acknowledges, “African Americans have a history where there has been little wealth in the past, therefore making it more likely that there’s little wealth in the future.”   

                       Perhaps more significantly, we must contextualize the wealth gap within a historical framework so that we can recognize—and stop repeating—the policies and social systems that have resulted in disparity. It is imperative that we refrain from participating in our own subjugation. In an article entitled, “How America Built the Racial Wealth Gap,” Lawrence D. Bobo notes that “people must not misunderstand or become complicit in a distorted take on their own history and circumstances. America and American social policy built the black-white wealth gap.” We cannot understand today’s wealth gap without understanding our collective history.

 Why is the growth of the wealth gap particularly ironic at this moment in history?

                       The growth of the wealth gap is particularly ironic at this moment in history, because we are moving forward—collectively, as human beings—on so many other fronts. We have the first black president of the United State of America—elected by an overwhelming, multi-racial majority—yet he has initiated no policies specifically targeted at improving circumstances in impoverished, black communities; rather, his policies have been aimed at improving the circumstances overall for middle-class Americans. Unfortunately, these policies (like Obamacare, the 2010 Fair Sentencing Act and the 2012 American Taxpayer Relief Act) are not enough to lift up the most oppressed (the majority of whom are non-whites) and place them squarely in the middle class—never mind reducing the wealth gap! 

 

Image Credit: ecolocalizer.com

           The growth of the wealth gap in America is particularly ironic at this moment in history, because our technological advances are exponential; we can see into deep space and have sent rovers to the planet Mars. We can perform laser surgery on the heart! We understand more about brain function now than ever before. Everyone is plugged in and connected: texting, tweeting, Facebook, Skype, YouTube, Pinterest; our gadgets are smarter than we are: smart phones, smart glasses, smart cars! We are smart people. Yet reducing (and eliminating) the wealth disparity in America has eluded us.  

With so much progress all around us, how dare we continue failing with regard to so basic a measure of equality?

 

The Metaphors of Barack Obama's Speeches: 'A More Perfect Union' and Morehouse College Commencement

Image Credit: morehousealumni.com

             In response to inflammatory comments made by his former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright (see “Jeremiah Wright controversy - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia” for a brief overview), then-candidate Senator Barack Obama gave the following 2008 speech “Obama Speech: 'A More Perfect Union' - YouTube” on race and politics in America. Just over a month ago, second-term President Obama gave a speech to the 2013 graduating class at Morehouse College: “President Obama Delivers Morehouse College Commencement ....” These speeches, though given for very different reasons and separated by half a decade, are bound by themes and metaphors that speak—not only to the African American condition—but also to the universal human condition. Let’s begin by examining a couple of stories presented by Obama . .

Stories merge, become metaphors           

            During his 2008 speech on race and politics in America, then-candidate Senator Obama refutes Rev. Wright’s divisive comments. Interestingly, while denouncing the Reverend’s rhetoric, Obama steadfastly refuses to denounce the man. Rather, Obama describes Rev. Wright in terms of the complexity of historical race relations in America, asserting that “he [Rev. Wright] contains within him the contradictions—the good and the bad—of the community that he has served diligently for so many years. I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can disown my white grandmother . . .” Here, Obama uses Rev. Wright as a metaphor for that faction in the black community that has lost hope in change, hope in the future. Obama portrays Rev. Wright as a man who has, tragically, been hardened against hope in the future by his own history; more importantly, Obama reveals Rev. Wright to be just a man—a fallible human being like the rest of us—warts and all.



Martin Luther King, Jr., 1948
Image credit:
Morehouse: King Collection 

Similarly, Obama’s speech to the 2013 graduating class of Morehouse College contains a parallel story: one which depicts the humanness of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Describing the then-15 year-old Dr. King, Obama says, “it’s fair to say he wasn’t the coolest kid on campus—for the suits he wore, his classmates called him ‘Tweed.’”Here, Obama requires that we envision the monolithic Dr. King, arguably the greatest Civil Rights leader—as just a man—a fallible young man who was once teased for his suits! At Morehouse, this young man was taught the power of hope: hope in the possibility of change and hope for our collective future. Of Dr. King’s college experience at Morehouse, Obama says, “It was here that professors encouraged him to look past the world as it was and fight for the world as it should be.” Just as Obama’s illustration of Rev. Wright is a metaphor for cynicism, for being stuck in the past, for closing our hearts and minds to hope, his illustration of a young Dr. King at Morehouse College represents the antithesis of that tragedy; his depiction of Dr. King represents the beauty of a universal human possibility: hope and faith in change, in our collective future. Beyond color: we are all human.   

History as a metaphor to understand race in

 America: Connecting history to the present

           

            

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 In both speeches, Obama reminds us that these United States are not yet free from discrimination and racism; disparities in housing, health care, employment, education—and myriad other cultural/societal conditions—can be “traced directly to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery.” Particularly with regard to wealth accumulation, subtle forms of discrimination and racism continue to drive economic disparities between white and black communities. In fact, a 2012 study conducted by the Department of Housing and Urban Development and the Urban Institute found that out of more than 8,000 tests in 28 different metropolitan regions nationwide, “blacks, Latinos and Asians looking for homes were shown fewer housing options than whites who were equally qualified. And fewer options meant higher housing costs” (see “For People Of Color, A Housing Market Partially Hidden From View ...”). Though less blatant than Jim Crow era laws, discrimination and racism continue to exist in increasingly subtle manifestations.

Obama’s personal story as metaphor



Image Credit: Ebay



            Obama’s personal life story is a metaphor for our collective vision of America as ‘the great melting pot’—where people of all colors, classes, socioeconomic statuses and backgrounds come together to strive toward our common value: freedom. In his 2008 speech, Obama says, “I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.” Obama is the embodiment of what he terms, “America’s improbable experiment in democracy.” Improbable? Yes. Impossible? No. Just as a young Dr. King embodied hope in our collective future and the possibility of change, Barack Obama embodies evidence that we have changed—we are changing—and we, in our interrelated, interconnected humanity—will continue to change.

History: both relevant and problematic

            As Americans, we have more choices than most human beings on this earth. In his 2008 speech, Obama says, “We can accept a politics that breeds division and conflict and cynicism . . . but if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we’ll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change. That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, ‘Not this time.’” Certainly, our collective past has been imperfect—and that imperfect past can function as a distraction, a barrier to our collective progress and momentum—or, as Obama urges in his 2013 commencement speech at Morehouse College, we can unite in the commonality of our humanity. He warns that “success may not come quickly or easily” but that “together, we will continue the never-ending task of perfecting our union.”   

 

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Tarty Teh: an Analysis of Metaphor in "Affirmative Action: Before I Turned Black"

Tarty Teh
Image Credit: The Washington Post

            Tarty Teh, a Liberian dissident journalist, died February 14, 2012; he was not yet 66 years old. Blojlu (Blojlu's Blog), a forum “dedicated to the discussion of Liberia’s pregnant issues” posted Teh’s article on February 29, 2012, entitled “Affirmative Action: Before I Turned Black”—a metaphorical commentary on the function of affirmative action policies in the United States. Since metaphor speaks to the mind’s images—and these images are the roots of our belief systems (Are you picturing a tree? Images are dug deep in the dark earth of our psyches; verbal expressions via words and articulations of thought are the leaves whispering in the wind of our consciousness)—Teh’s article seeks to describe his own personal narrative as it relates to the context of affirmative action. Metaphors abound! Quite effectively, Teh describes a personal story that frames affirmative action in metaphors, touching a most primitive part of our collective unconscious where we are evoked through image. By articulating his personal narrative metaphorically, he brings the issue of affirmative action to the surface and provides a moving and valid argument for its just place in American public policy. Let’s examine Teh’s metaphors: 

           

            In the second paragraph of his article, Teh expresses frustration with those opposed to affirmative action policies, who “have managed to treat it as if it were a crutch for the permanently disabled.” True, many right wing conservatives bemoan policies of affirmative action and decry them as unfair; however, images of crutches, immobility and permanent disability far exaggerate the realities of affirmative action. Affirmative action does not support individuals who are inherently flawed (crippled) based on race (as the image of a “crutch” evokes): rather, affirmative action policies attempt (in small part) to return that which was previously taken. For instance, if my friend takes my most precious necklace against my wishes—would it be fitting (just/equitable/logical) for her to give me my necklace as a wrapped gift on my next birthday? Absolutely not: it was mine to begin with; it was not hers to give—it was hers to return.



Broadway & Myrtle
Image Credit: Google Streetview

            Teh’s narrative takes place after midnight in New York City, at the intersections of Broadway and Myrtle Avenues in Brooklyn. He describes the scene as “dark and dangerous,” an apt reference to racial tensions in the early 1970’s. Teh’s assertion that “the bad thing that was now happening to me, I blamed on myself” correlates to internalized racism. Teh states that he is “aware that motorists treat bicycles as a superfluous contraption;” riding his bicycle home from work, he is, therefore, careful to obey the traffic rules. Teh’s bicycle is a metaphor for affirmative action—a policy that, like Teh’s bicycle—opponents argue is unnecessary, unneeded. Motorists in this narrative represent the population—the majority of whom (in the early 1970’s) were white. Following the rules (law), Teh waits patiently at the intersection of Broadway, Myrtle and Jefferson: “I waited for the traffic signal to favor me.” Waiting, waiting, waiting: black people in the United States have been waiting since the early 1600’s for racial equality.

           

Image Credit: Google Maps

            Finally, the light changes and Teh begins making his way through the intersection, but is nearly run down by an angry white man driving into Teh’s side of the road, slamming his brakes and screaming racial epitaphs. This is akin to the progress (as through an intersection) attained in returning full citizenship rights to blacks in the United States through affirmative action policies—and the interruptions to that progress that occur when opponents rail against affirmative action and endeavor to eliminate it. Just as there was seemingly no end in sight to racial injustices during the early 1970’s, Teh says, “I saw no indication that this would end soon” and, “If only I could get beyond this interception with my life.” Interception—not intersection—is an appropriate (and interesting) word choice. When I first read Teh’s article, I believed that he intended ‘intersection,’ but when considered through a metaphorical lens, ‘interception’ is the more apt term: to cut off, seize, capture, interrupt. That is precisely the nature of African American History in the United States since the early 1600’s. Blacks have been intercepted from their lives; policies of affirmative action seek to give back that which has already been taken. Don’t gift that which was mine to begin with.

Broadway & Myrtle
Image Credit: Google Streetview

Now in the middle of Broadway and Myrtle, an angry white man screaming at him, cars backing up in both directions, a black motorist stops to defend Teh. Teh’s defender is a metaphor for the Civil Rights Movement: a moment in our collective history as a nation, when people of many colors, genders, creeds and religions, stopped and said: Enough! The traffic signal turns to red, Teh peddles safely through the intersection. Affirmative action—his bicycle—carries him through; Teh was held back when it was his turn (green light) to continue through the intersection. Doubtful, he takes the opportunity to continue through the intersection (because “my brother told me to”)—an opportunity which had previously been taken from him by the angry white man screaming obscenities. The “right to proceed through the intersection” is a metaphor for freedom of conscience, for the right to live unfettered and according to one’s own design, spurred by the Civil Rights Movement.

Long before black and white color lines were drawn in these United States (prior to the 17^th century), Africans had the same freedoms (and sometimes absence of freedoms) as that of peoples from all other nations on all other continents. Though slavery existed before the birth of the United States, it was colorblind. Never before, had a race of people been subjected to slavery based solely on skin color. This is what Teh refers to when he says, “I once had the right to proceed through the intersection.” When Teh declares “that right had been held up by a man with a big car and mouth,” it is a metaphor for the institution of slavery in the United States—and the intergenerational repercussions related thereto and continuing today (i.e., the criminalization of black youth, etc.). Teh continues, “that right had been restored back to me only when the traffic light turned decidedly red, and I turned black.” This is affirmative action: rights that are being restored—not extra benefits based on skin color. Teh admits that affirmative action can seem unfair to the majority (white men); his metaphor, “my rights were affirmed just then; but somebody lost a turn” speaks to this. Yes, affirmative action means that someone will lose a turn—but only because someone whose turn had been taken away is being given their turn back now.

           

            Just as the cars in Teh’s intersection (interception!) back up and several motorists miss their opportunity to proceed, our collective progress as human beings has been held back (to our own detriment!) by fruitless debates on the validity of affirmative action. Hopefully, policies of affirmative action will, someday, no longer be needed. That day, however, is not today.

Khalil Gibran Muhammad

            In his blog, "Khalil Gibran Muhammad with Bill Moyers on Confronting the Contradictions of America’s Past", C. Matthew Hawkins poses the following questions regarding the art and science of history: Where does Muhammad say that black history begins? What does he say is the character of black history? In what ways does Muhammad suggest that American history is a situational irony – an irony of situation? Why does Muhammad say that Americans, Black or White, tend to avoid discussions about the contradictions of American history during national holidays, such as the 4^th of July? This blog entry endeavors to provide a brief examination of those questions.

            Where does Muhammad say that black history begins? What does he say is the character of black history?

            In an interview with Bill Moyers originally aired on June 29, 2012, “Full Show: Confronting the Contradictions of America’s Past”, Khalil Gibran Muhammad affirms that black history begins long ago in Africa—long before American history. Muhammad contends that black history does not begin with slavery; rather, African history commences before “the white man came”—in thriving civilizations, like Timbuktu. Many thousands of years before French colonial rule, Timbuktu was a flourishing center for Islamic scholarly study; in fact, the findings of a 21^st century archaeological excavation indicate that an Iron Age tell complex existed during the 5^th century BC and continued to prosper all through the second half of the 1^st millennium AD. Please see “Timbuktu - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia” for additional background.

Muhammad characterizes black history as oppressive, but celebratory. He asserts that “black history for young people is life-saving” precisely because it does not begin with slavery. Furthermore, Muhammad describes the duality existing between the struggle and pain of black history and its narrative of survival and creativity; he points to the incredible endurance of a people who have long existed in societies working against them yet continue producing original forms of art. Unfortunately, inequality of all sorts (racial, gender, socioeconomic, etc.) has become an accepted, normalized aspect of American society.

            In what ways does Muhammad suggest that American history is a situational irony—an irony of situation?

            Irony involves expectations; situational irony exists when we expect a particular outcome, but the opposite occurs. Muhammad suggests that at its core, American history is a situational irony in its failure to build a true democracy. Thomas Jefferson and 55 other ‘founding fathers’ composed the Declaration of Independence, proclaiming that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights;” however, the reality of American democracy reflected in practice does not, in fact, hold these truths for all human beings. American democracy, in practice, has been for the benefit of men only—specifically white men—and to the detriment of all others: women, black and indigenous peoples. Please refer to “The Declaration of Independence - USHistory.org” for a complete rendering of the Declaration of Independence. Muhammad notes that the “ideal of equality that Jefferson portrayed, he also betrayed.”

            

Image Credit: American Treasures of the Library of Congress

Irony exists, too, in the founding fathers’ justification for seeking independence from Britain: “the history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny;” so too has black history in America been one of “repeated injuries and usurpations”—and of being subjected to an “absolute Tyranny.” In fact, Muhammad notes the irony inherent in Thomas Jefferson’s belief that whites are fundamentally superior to blacks and Jefferson’s assertion that “money, not morality, is the principle of commercialized nations.” The founding fathers sought “equality” and freedom from British rule; however, the motivating principle behind settlement in the American colonies was acquiring resources for the purpose of wealth accumulation. Sadly, the last two centuries of American history repeat similar ironies: efforts at social, political, economic reform (like the Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement)—with the goal and expectation of equality in the United States—gave way to the manufacture of new and insidious manners of discrimination and denial of equality (i.e., urban ghettos, policies of stop-and-frisk, the criminalization of black people).

Why does Muhammad say that Americans, Black or White, tend to avoid discussions about the contradictions of American history during national holidays, such as the 4^th of July?

Image credit: pbs.org

Muhammad describes America as a “culture of escapism.” He illustrates our inherent contradictory nature: we want to believe in and participate in the experiment of American democracy, but we do not want to be ever-conscious of our conflict-filled, discriminatory history. Sometimes (particularly during national holidays), Americans (of all colors) prefer to forget the failings of our collective history. Even though Muhammad reminds us that Frederick Douglass once described the 4^th of July as “your holiday,” rather than “our holiday,” most Americans today enjoy the 4^th of July as a time to picnic, set off fireworks and spend time together. Toward the end of his interview, Bill Moyers asks Khalil Gibran Muhammad how he will celebrate the upcoming 4^th of July—to which Muhammad replies, smiling, that he plans to “take the day off from the weight of history.”

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