I treat my eyes as if windowpanes allowing me to see a
perfect view of life. My perspective is all I have.
I finally found the equally important time and energy to express this perspective
as it relates to the cataclysm between LAPD
and the students of the University of Southern California, as well as the
following Dr. Dre aftermath (pun intended).
The evening of May 3rd, to me, was a celebration
deeper than just the last day of classes. It was the culmination of literal
blood, sweat, and tears over the course of last 5 years. Nearly three of those
years were spent at other colleges building up my academic portfolio so that I
could transfer to USC. And my next 2 years as a USC student were either spent
recovering from a gunshot
wound that almost took my life, dedicating my time to community service projects
that included creating a mentorship program for Foster Care youth and at-risk teens in the LAUSD system, or
various artistic projects. I was celebrating the fact I proved the Romans 8:31
Bible verse, “If God is for us, who can be against us,” correct. I should probably read the book more often
because I got a variation of that specific verse tattooed on my chest in 2008,
substituting the word “us” for “me” (vain act, or premonition, decide for
yourself). Long story shorter, this was
my time to enjoy the fruits of my labor.
Before the party on
23rd St, I was at a banquet on a yacht in recognition of all the
hard work the Directors and Assistant Directors of Program Board accomplished
over the course the year. I was the AD for the Black Student Assembly so I
wanted to share in the final moments with my classmates who all helped provide
the school with remarkable events and concerts in the 2012-13 academic school
year.
I wiped the elated smile off my face along with the mucus
that sprayed from the mouth of an officer yelling, “disperse” about an hour
later. The most interesting view from my windowpane eyes as I helped move the
crowd down the street were a few classmates of mine from the yacht banquet
tucked safely across the street at an identical party on 23rd St. I
worked just as hard as them. I produced just as many events of substantial
quality. And moreover, I was celebrating my accomplishments with friends in a
peaceful manner. Why wasn’t their party being handled with the same intensity?
Was there a difference?
I understood that difference when an officer nonchalantly
stated that “if it had been 20 years ago, [they] could’ve beaten [me] to a
bloody pulp, left [me] in the street, and there would’ve been nothing [I] could
do about it.” Clearly a USC education wasn’t necessary to calculate the rough
20-year mark of the televised Rodney King beating.
A couple points resonated with me about this comment. One
was that his statement reaffirmed my thinking that the actions of LAPD that
night were indeed race based and that in his mind, 79 police officers in riot
gear and a helicopter was an example of letting us off easy. The second point I realized is that no matter what I do in life, as a black male I will be
constantly scrutinized with an innate skepticism that seems to be burned into
the minds of my society. The fact that it was 20-years after the Rodney King
beating and he felt comfortable saying what he said to me is a testament to how
far we, as a society, have to go.
As I was walking away to refuge after the ordeal had
subsided, I stopped to speak to 3 students to gauge how much media attention
the 79 LAPD officers and helicopter on Hoover was getting. The group consisted
of two girls and one guy, all of Asian decent. They were still pretty drunk
and were waiting on a friend to come let them into the front lobby of an
apartment complex. They had no idea what I was referring to so I calmly explained
to them the situation expecting their jaws to drop at any given moment. Instead
it was my jaw that dropped at what I heard next. In her tired, slightly slurred
words she said, “Well you guys shot the guy on Halloween and you guys murdered
the two Asian students so I think you deserve it. That’s what LAPD should do.”
Baffled I told her, “well you know that neither of those incidents were USC
students so by “you guys”…you mean?” She gives me the most irritated look in
the world and her friend, who was equally irritated by my presence said to her,
“Ugh! Just let him leave!” Literally sick to my stomach, I continued my night’s
walk to avoid any more drama. I was more heart broken than infuriated because through
her uninhibited tone I could tell that her opinion was likely to be shared by
other USC students. She just needed the liquid courage to tell me to my face.
The following two
weeks were the most stressful of my life, or at least equivalent to a couple
nights in the hospital with a hole in my chest. On top of the finals and trying
to figure out where to begin my life legacy, I now had the burden of helping
orchestrate a movement that had an essence of what was seen in the 60’s, but
was unique to our generation’s ability to mobilize using social media as a
catalyst. My body and stress do not mix. I lost 15lbs in that time because my
body began rejecting food. I remember vomiting in the hallway trash can moments
before accepting the “Survivor Award” from the Center of Black Culture and
Student Affairs office with a humble smile.
Stress is
different than anger. I wasn’t angry because although I was in the epicenter of
the storm, nothing that happened to me was the direct result of my own actions.
Instead it was the result of how others felt of my complexion. Therefore the only
personal responsibility that I took on was the weight of the voiceless
minorities in my city that were looking to us to remain strong and endure so
that we could all share in victory.
I was angered however
when I sat down and fully read Walter M. Kimbrough’s “Why
USC and not a black college, Dr. Dre?” article in the LA Times. As I said
earlier, I am only sharing my own life perspective. And through my windowpane
eyes a black male physically shot me down over a pair of Dre Beat headphones
when I first got to USC, and in my last week at USC another black male verbally
shot me down over Dr. Dre again. I do not have a Bible verse embedded in my
skin fit for an ironic circumstance such as this, but it does make me
reconsider omens.
I worked, in lack
of a better term, “my ass” off to
overcome more obstacles at the age of 23 than most 40 year olds in order to
rise to the ranks I currently hold today, and in the midst of our movement
against social injustice this man had the audacity
to tell me and classmates we are not worthy of such an endowment?
In his article,
Mr. Kimbrough quoted that “ [a] new report on black male athletes and racial
inequities shows that only 2.2% of USC undergrads are black men, compared with
56% of its football and basketball teams, one of the largest disparities in the
nation.” And though this is not a backed up fact, I’d say roughly only 30% of
that 2.2% of black, Trojan men are non-athletes. This leaves less than 1% of
the student population at the University of Southern California to those that
are similar to me. For those that reside on the west coast, specifically in LA
and Compton cherish USC as a prize within our community. In Dr. Dre’s
childhood, the opportunities to attend USC for young black kids were even
slimmer than they are now. Most of the kids from my generation only experience
life at USC vicariously through the fictional lives of the LA natives Quincy
and Monica in the movie Love & Basketball by Gina Prince Bythewood, which
was released in the year 2000. With that being said, our 1% is more like Dr.
Dre than anyone else. We are rare breeds of men that succeeded in spite of our
environments. The misconception that because we are at USC, we were born with
silver spoons in our mouth could not be farther from the truth. I chose USC
over Howard because I wanted to attend the best university from my given
options, and not just the best university for blacks. More importantly, it was
cheaper for me to attend USC than a HBU because they can afford better
financial packages. That is called being economically savvy, not selling out.
Without Dr. Dre
and other black males who I witnessed rise to greatness, I may have never had
the heart to fight for my life or the courage to thrive in an environment that
is historically inconsistent with substantial black success. I can understand
fear and hatred from those outside of my race. That fear stems in ignorance and
is perpetuated by the daily stereotypes they consume in their choice of media.
What I cannot accept is the fear and hatred we as blacks have amongst each
other. Why write an article condemning a man who is not even an alumni of the
institutions of which you praise? Why not instead ask that the esteemed alumnus
of those institutions to follow his lead and donate what they can to their alma
maters in-need? Do not get me wrong. The money donated by Dr. Dre would have completely transformed an HBCU, but it also may have encouraged more black youth to pursue their academic careers at USC. At the end of the day, we have been pushed out
and pushed around for far too long to continue the exhibition of this “crabs in
a bucket” mentality.
The police
officers may view me as a criminal, a few ignorant students at USC may view me
as a monster, and other blacks may see me a member of an illusory bourgeoisie
that they continuously take shots at, but my degree tells me that I am a
Trojan. And as I stood tall walking across the stage embracing the cheers from
family and friends, I also took with me the permanent scars from the incidents
that transpired during my time at USC. I still have a bullet lodged in my lower
right lung and a skull full of “USChangemovement” memories that will
continuously replay in my head forever.
Each memory and scar will serve as a reminder of who I am, what I have
been through, and how far I have to go. I am not sure how quickly our society
will evolve, but I do know that before the curtains close on my windowpane eyes,
the 6% of African-Americans I met at USC will be amongst the main catalyst for
that evolution.
Every story ends
in a catharsis and this song describes my personal purgation:
