Frank Yerby was the first African American to earn a million dollars from his writing.
“There are those who don’t believe that Black males can write.” – James (a technical communication consultant)
He reminded me of the pain. It was lost. Somehow reading his words extracted the pain from its comfortable hiding spot. Honestly, I have never been told I could not write. If I did, I am unsure how I would have responded. Writing has been a primary skill and symbol of confidence for me since I was a child. It has been my safety net. It was my safety net until I wrote My Flexibility Manifesto and realized that if I keep practicing, then I could be one of the best. Not the best Black writer, but I could be the best writer in the universe. Audacious perhaps. Overzealous maybe. However, if I don’t believe in myself, no one else will.
The pain came from an incident in graduate school. In Fall 2012, I began a master’s degree program at the University of Wisconsin-Stout majoring in technical and professional communication. At that time, I dropped out of my MBA program, and ignored my acceptance into a graduate journalism program. Job prospects for journalism majors did not appeal to me. Technical or business writing were rising fields offering acceptable salaries. Additionally, I could continue teaching and authoring while pursuing business or technical writing as a freelancer. I had a plan. During one of my initial classes, a rhetoric course, we were assigned to contribute weekly postings to an academic forum. A blog. Along with publishing a posting (based on weekly class readings), each student was expected to read and respond to at least two postings. I received e-mail notifications of any comments posted to my entries. One day, I began to receive negative postings from a stranger. The stranger was not a part of the graduate program, was not enrolled in the course, but was able to read our classroom blog. In his attacks, he criticized my grammar. Instead of politely pinpointing an error or two, he rudely attacked my writing. Sometimes, it is not what you say, but how you say it. Anytime I would write something, his behavior got uglier. Before I released my inner beast, I wished the guy well and informed him that I would not entertain any negativity. As my classmates and professor rose to my defense, the guy finally retreated.
I know I can write. I know I can write well. I know that God gave me a gift of writing and storytelling that I was meant to use. However, we can all focus on the grammatical rules more. We can all proofread for content, proofread for mechanics, and proofread a third for copy. Do I do this with every article of content I publish? No. Every writer struggles with grammar. My critic knew that. Actually, in reading his responses, I pinpointed several grammatical errors. So why was he attacking the only Black guy in class? As James admitted, “There are those that don’t believe that Black males can write.”
Society says. Black males can’t write. Black males can’t speak. Black males can’t swim. Black males can’t dress well. Black males can’t cook. Black males can’t drive. Black males can’t run a Fortune 500 company. Black males can’t successfully coach a basketball team. Black males can’t successfully own and operate a professional football team. Black males can’t market. Black males can’t parent. Black males can’t create art. Black males can’t love. Black males can’t save money. Black males can’t invest. Black males can’t be professional. Black males can’t be friendly. Black males can’t critically think. Black males can’t teach. Black males can’t publish a book about anything other than religion or Black history. Black males can’t be faithful. Black males can’t be trusted. Black males can’t invent valuable products. Black males can’t speak different languages. Black males can’t be generous. Black males can’t help a community.
On the opposite side of the spectrum, Black males can f*ck. Black males can rap. Black males can sing. Black males can dance. Black males can entertain. Black males can jump. Black males can run fast. Black males can pack boxes. Black males can move furniture. Black males can pick cotton. Black males can spend. Black males can be easily persuaded. Black males can play sports. Black males can clean. Black males can mow a lawn. Black males can deliver the mail. Black males can serve food. Black males can bartend. Black males can preach.
The irony of this situation is my current location. Bartlett, Tennessee, a few blocks from home, I sit inside a Starbucks typing away on the Mrs.’ laptop. Her MacBook Air is newer, lighter, and thinner. I remind myself to save for a new Macbook for 2014. As I look up, I am greeted with the image of a Caucasian male—he is a police officer of Bartlett. I politely nod. As he breaks away from our eye contact, he grabs the left behind sports section. I look around and notice my surroundings. Nine Caucasian Starbucks’ consumers surround me. Several more come in and out of the famous coffee chain. One would assume I detail these observations out of hate or some kind of psychological oppression. Neither. I am comfortable around Caucasians. I grew up around them, ate with them, laughed with them, cried with them, and prayed with them. Three of my top ten list of closest friends are Caucasian. Those friends are Kim, Matt (aka Shady), and Robert (aka Big Wood). I love my friends. They live in Wisconsin, I live in Tennessee. I do not speak with them frequently and I have not seen them in years. Regardless of time, the chemistry is still there. The friendship is genuine. It healthfully breathes. I love it.
I have been in Tennessee for eight years now. I relocated to attend Tennessee State University to study journalism. I ended up with a bachelor’s degree in social sciences, student loans, and a fiancee. Next, I decided that Nashville did not offer enough Black culture as I relocated to my fiancee’s hometown, Memphis. The irony continues as my family and I attend White Station Church of Christ—a predominately Caucasian church. When I attended Union University’s MBA program in Germantown, Tennessee, my closest classmate was Chris, a business development advisor for FedEx. Chris is a white guy. He lived in Wisconsin (my home state), thus we connected instantly. In my technical and professional writing program at the University of Wisconsin-Stout, all of my colleagues and professors are Caucasian. To some extent, I connect with each of them. At my high school, my closest colleague is another White guy, Joshua. He teaches history. I teach English. When I worked for Apple, I enjoyed working with most of my peers. But, my closest peers were White. So I know you are pondering “What’s the point of this discussion?” I do not know. I just realized the irony of being a Black male in America. A Black male in America trying to solve some of the societal issues that stymie Black prosperity and Black excellence. Sometimes, it feels like I connect better with Caucasians than I do African-Americans. Yet, I feel a burning desire to help the group of people that best resembles me. The irony.
Here is my perspective. We are all human beings, and human being is the only race that matters. Furthermore, my only competition is in the mirror. I am out-writing any body with a pen or pencil. God revealed to me “be greater.” My father encouraged me to “keep going.” If I had a trillion dollars, I would bet it all on me. There is a difference between being gifted and being talented. Talented individuals do not consistently produce positive results. Gifted individuals make very difficult work look effortless. I am putting in my 10,000 hours plus to master my craft. It takes this I-don’t-give-a-(expletive) mentality to get ahead in this crowded, racist, discriminating world. I will not, I cannot allow the color of my skin to be a negative factor in my writing success. Frank Yerby proved that Black males can write, as well did Manning Marable, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Frederick Douglas, Omar Tyree, Eric Jerome Dickey, Richard Wright, Langston Hughes, Ralph Ellison, Hill Harper, Michael Eric Dyson, Cornel West, August Wilson, and James Baldwin. Additionally, the writing abilities of Lupe Fiasco, Jay Z, Russell Simmons, Nathan McCall, Malcolm Lee, Aaron McGruder, Robert Townsend, Keenan Ivory Waynes, Tupac, Nas, Chris Rock, Antwone Fisher, Tyler Perry, Kanye West, Spike Lee, and Ne-Yo deserve critical acclaim. Now, I challenge you to dig deep. Dig deeper. What is your craft? What is your purpose? What are you working towards? What gift do people recognize in you? What gift do you recognize in yourself? What field of study are you wiling to pour thousands of hours in? Let the “Hunger Games” begin.
Disagree? Please comment below. If you enjoyed this article, please spread the word and share it with three people. Email me at leonard.wilson.jr@gmail.com and follow me on Twitter at @BlackScholarONL. Thank you, and always aim for excellence.
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