| On Black Men & Boys |
| Sunday, 09 December 2007 | |
 Black Violin Think about all they have to combat: increasing high school dropout rates economic/employment disparities criminalization lack of fathers in the home/positive male role models the media’s portrayal of Black masculinity social stigmas/pressures And that’s barely scratching at the surface. It’s depressing to think about. I mean, our black youths’ young parents are dying from AIDS; the youths themselves may struggle with HIV/AIDS; their incarceration levels out-rank all other races; they are poorly (doggedly) portrayed in the media (thief, druggie, killer, sexual predator, etc.)… I could go on and on. The outlook for Black girls isn’t pretty either. While sitting there listening to youths' recount their own stories and ask for help from us, the older generation, my mind drifted to my own past. What was it that saved me from becoming a statistic? I certainly got into my share of trouble. I was raised in a single-parent home. I could’ve gone to jail a few times and I probably should be dead by now, but I’m here. I survived not without a few scratches but I’m here. I have two degrees from two prominent schools under my belt. I’ve traveled to many countries and have experienced so many cultures, I can go anywhere and feel confident and comfortable because of the many situations that I survived during my formative years. I’ve seen and lived so many experiences that the average Black youth only experiences in their dreams. I wondered this weekend how it happened for me and what I could do to make it happen for others. I can honestly say without question that music saved my life. It gave me a sense of responsibility, ownership and entitlement. I knew that I had to practice to please my teacher or to not embarrass myself in orchestra. I felt proud of a beautifully executed phrase or the moment when my flutist and I breathed as one voice. It felt good to work at something, sometimes crying with frustration and throwing my metronome across the room, or just walking away from my harp only to return in a few hours with that mental block now demolished and the ease of accomplishment. I knew I couldn’t party all night Friday if I had to teach early Saturday and my students were appreciative of the extra time and attention I spent. Music as a lifestyle was about art when I was growing up. I wanted to create beauty and be happy. But I didn’t face the same social pressures as these Black youths today. Yeah, people questioned my “blackness” and they still do but that’s par for the course and I had to get over it quick. Even now, I find myself saying before everything else that I’ve accomplished that I’ve performed with Kanye West as if that were my qualifier. Then me being a Black harpist is somehow acceptable. I hate that I do that or that I feel the need to do that or that it’s often demanded of me albeit unspoken. Being on stage with Common or Jay-Z, for some reason, gives me license to play the harp or some kind of street credibility in the Black community. Then again, how cool is it to be classically-trained and be able to play any type of music? I think it's damn cool. I try to tell my students that all the time—just because you’re learning Bach today doesn’t mean you can’t play blues tomorrow. The problem I have with the whole “qualifier” is that I often find myself downplaying my other accomplishments or reducing them to popular music references like Kanye when I speak to people who never had the opportunity to take a music lesson and who really are just trying to find a way to survive on a daily basis. They think mine is such a pampered lifestyle, a privilege that only few are rewarded and I suppose in a way, they’re right. I mean, my background was far from glamorous but through music, I was able to enjoy many luxuries that few young Black kids are afforded. Should I feel guilty? No. Instead, I feel angry that at that instant I’m living Bush’s “haves and have nots.” I want more Black kids to have the opportunities to travel and learn as I did. But the reality is that they won’t. So what can we as a community do to ensure more young Black kids have the opportunities that we had? How can we expose them to music and make it relevant to their lives? I know that not all kids are musically-inclined. Some are artists. Some are writers. Some are mathematicians or future lawyers. The point is to find out. Youths need room for self-expression and not just in the classical arts. But what makes art cool to kids, especially Black boys, who are taught (by society/media/whoever) that they need to be hypermasculine, hard and gangsta? The arts are soft, feminine and seemingly weak. On one hand, having to practice or be at a concert can and probably will keep many Black male youths out of trouble, off the streets and in the practice room. But on the other hand, how many will be teased, beat up or whatever else for being "punks?" I think about groups like Black Violin who took their classical training and mixed their style with contemporary hip hop. They are appealing to a whole other set of youths, building new audiences and making classical… well, not “street” per se, but closer to relevant or at least tangible for youths seeking role models. I still don’t know if BV will make violin-playing “gangsta” or alright to carry one down the street and still look “hard” or whatever but that’s for whoever is carrying the violin to figure out. Point is, with all of the social ills that the majority of Black male youths face, how can we, the classical community of color, help to make their quality of life better and therefore improve society as a whole? Our presence already deconstructs stereotypes, but if we can talk to youths, visit more schools and lead by example, I think that's a start. “Each one teach one.” I feel that we need to support this initiative and take some responsibility. Even if we didn’t create the problem, we should be part of the solution. Please visit the Black Men & Boys web site to find out how you can help. Thank you.  No. 1 : I read that Betty Allen, amazing mezzo-soprano and the President Emeritus, Harlem School of the Arts once said: "One boy wouldn’t even carry his cello case in the subway. He was scared he’d be attacked. They walk defensively out of their projects. You have got to have a lot of guts to fight for lots of things. Not everyone is prepared or psychologically or emotionally ready to do this, to say "Miss Allen, I don’t hear them, I don’t look at them, I just go." It's always been hard for Black kids doing anything out of the social norm. Classical musicians, those who are professionally pursuing the career, are such a minority, that it's hard to make a large impact. |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|