When I was in eighth grade, the only full year I attended a particular school, I was to my knowledge its first African-American basketball player. But I also was elected homeroom president and invited to most of the parties (though, because of my shyness, I rarely went).
As a sophomore at an all-boys Catholic prep high school I scored not one but two roles, one singing, in the spring musical — which, I believe, the director selected to get me involved. Again, I may have been a pioneer there as well.
As a sophomore at the University of Pittsburgh I was invited to pledge a white fraternity and, after being initiated, even ran (but lost) for executive board the next year.
In my late 30s, I was recruited to join the diaconate of the largely white, socially prominent Presbyterian church that I was attending at the time. And indeed, it was the second time I was invited.
Twelve years ago I joined a jazz orchestra, originally as just its baritone saxophonist, and I remain the only black member. Today, however, I'm also one of its arrangers.
A few years back I began attending swing dances again after taking about a 15-year break — I had stopped because I broke things off my then-girlfriend, as it was something we did as a couple — and over time a number of us have become somewhat of a family. I even write original music for one of the bands to which we dance. I'm the only person of color who attends regularly. (Just this week a new dance started to which I arrived late because I was at another dance, and one of my favorite partners, who knew where I was, lit up when she saw me and said, "You made it!")
Why do I bring these up? Because in all of these cases, I'm as deeply involved as anyone and my input is more than welcomed. In other words, in those situations I'm not merely a "token."
Of late some political conservatives have derided us African-Americans for remaining on the "liberal plantation" and have said, without evidence, that we would be better off supporting the conservative worldview. That's utterly ridiculous from our perspective for one reason: Most blacks remain connected to the Democratic Party in particular and "liberalism" in general precisely because our input is welcomed and we actually have a say in how things go.
If you believe I'm saying that we don't have similar pull with conservatism and in the Republican Party, you're absolutely right. We are never consulted as to what we believe the issues are or should be and how things affect us.
Folks like Candace Owens, Larry Elder, Walter Williams and Thomas Sowell are often dismissed as "sellouts," and for good reason — I learned 20 years ago that the political right will pay a large sum of money to any African-American willing to spout its line. (Indeed, back then the movement reached out to me.)
In other words, they're the "tokens," the faces of a movement placed for window dressing but without any power to cause change. And we're just not having it.
A couple of years ago the New York Times ran a story about African-Americans who began leaving white evangelical churches after the election of President Trump. They believed, as I still do now, that churches should be integrated into one Body.
The trouble is that such churches never addressed the issues that its black members might have faced, such as racial profiling by police, and their tacit support for Trump, who has since demonstrated his racism, pretty much sealed the deal. It's why we have such division today.
My own church, praise God, has fought such "tokenism" in the time I've attended there. Citing Acts 4, it has actually sought to place "people of color" in decision-making positions, most notably as elders; indeed, one of our executive pastors is African-American. The message? "You have a stake in this as well." More to the point, our staff takes the time to listen to its membership.
This is true diversity, reflected in the outlook and history, not just the skin color, of the people involved. And that diversity seems to scare and irritate the political right, which has always struck me as pretty intolerant. It's why I, and other people of color, can't go there.
In other words, they're the "tokens," the faces of a movement placed for window dressing but without any power to cause change. And we're just not having it.
A couple of years ago the New York Times ran a story about African-Americans who began leaving white evangelical churches after the election of President Trump. They believed, as I still do now, that churches should be integrated into one Body.
The trouble is that such churches never addressed the issues that its black members might have faced, such as racial profiling by police, and their tacit support for Trump, who has since demonstrated his racism, pretty much sealed the deal. It's why we have such division today.
My own church, praise God, has fought such "tokenism" in the time I've attended there. Citing Acts 4, it has actually sought to place "people of color" in decision-making positions, most notably as elders; indeed, one of our executive pastors is African-American. The message? "You have a stake in this as well." More to the point, our staff takes the time to listen to its membership.
This is true diversity, reflected in the outlook and history, not just the skin color, of the people involved. And that diversity seems to scare and irritate the political right, which has always struck me as pretty intolerant. It's why I, and other people of color, can't go there.
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