EVEN THOUGH as opinion writers, we're asked to put our thoughts down on paper, I often refrained from adding any personal beliefs out of a genuine fear of what people would think of me. Although I often philosophized and engaged in raucous discussion with my peers about the state of black manhood, America's graces and disgraces and the resilient race-dichotomy of Jefferson's hallowed institution, deep down inside I was always fearful that word would somehow get back that I was an angry black man with a distaste for the community I live in.
Even though this was far from the truth, I was afraid that I might catch hell for stating my opinion. Over the course of this year, I realized that perhaps the name-calling, letter responses and bravado we opinion writers receive may all just be worth it -- especially for me, as the lone African-American man in the bunch.
I learned that as a black man who isn't fearful of expressing his opinion in the student newspaper every week, I would receive extra criticism -- but that criticism comes with the territory. Black men who express their views always garner extra attention, and I am finally coming to discover why that is. Black men who speak their minds intimidate others with a combination of intelligence, street savvy and the sheer presence of an effective voice -- something that most people are not used to bearing witness to. They are often catalysts in bringing taboo issues to the forefront and are often counselors for change in the status quo.
This year, black male students stepped to the plate -- and not just on the basketball courts or the gridiron, but in student politics and leadership as well. Black men continued to show that leadership and valuable concepts, like the acronym F.O.R.C.E., are borne out of minds of learned black men -- and these men helped to charter the course for many of the diversity initiatives now in the works on Grounds, for which I am especially proud.
Only in the venue of rap music do we prominently hear some of the voices of black men, because rap is a creative extension grown out of the poverty and despair of urban America. Black men own this artistic venue and use to it express their feelings and thoughts which are not equally recognized in mainstream literature or politics. Rap is often the only venue that they have.
In fact, I myself wasn't always the one willing to speak up. For most of my life, and even in most times at present, I still neglect to say how I truly feel about important issues, as do most black men. I always know that in the back of my mind, we bite our tongues regularly and sometimes repeatedly instead of enriching our everyday conversations with content as mesmerizing as the words of black scholar Michael Eric Dyson or as poignant as the pen of Cornel West. Black men stop short of their true selves, our fears sometimes beyond our control.
We have fears of those critiquing us as well as a fear of those who surround us, hoping that we always stop ourselves well short of making a scene (like where recent University guest speaker Kevin Powell bellowed at Southern belle Julie, in the first season of the Real World about how she didn't quite understand his life situation). We bite our heated tongues and let our thoughts on politics, literature and the true rules of engagement simmer down to a slow boil because of a self-consciousness that we have developed that leads us to think that everything we say in a public venue is dumb.
Over time, I grew out of that phase and I found that I could excel in school, despite what other folks thought of me, by sharing my opinions no matter how different my dialect or approach may have been. I grew past the fundamental black-boy reads like "The Mis-Education of the Negro" and "The Souls of Black Folk"and came to realize that there were other black male writers, philosophers and poets -- and not just a few famous ones. I became versed in a variety of subjects, and finally, I felt like so many other black men do -- I had to let it be known. Black men think too, and we do it in as many ways as everyone else.
So many of us are so accustomed to being underestimated and dismissed, we rarely even try to be heard anymore. On Grounds, we've become the token polka-dot nestled snuggly in the back of class or the star running back sailing in with another swift blow to the opposing team's ego, much to our fans' over-joyous glee. However, we are much more than that. We, as black men, expose very little of our true identity to the University, as students and as thinkers, and nowadays, we are even hiding it from one another. We often cut off would-be academic associations and brotherly inspiration with futile conversation about last night's basketball game or trade it in for macho indignation and most likely public confrontations. True, at times a white columnist can get black male students hot under the collar, but otherwise, how often would you have seen a black male student expressing his viewpoint to the collective mass? Not often enough before, but much more frequently now.
Like so many other black men on Grounds who love being at this University, I grew tired of the one-sided nature of my existence as black male student, and I intended to do something about it. After this semester, I am certainly glad that I did.
(Kazz Pinkard's column appears Thursdays in The Cavalier Daily. He can be reached at kpinkard@cavalierdaily.com.)
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