By Kenny Hardin
Texas Metro News
https://texasmetronews.com
I live in a predominantly colorless neighborhood, but before you accuse me of humble bragging, I’m not. The absence of people who look like me is not some kind of flex I’m trying to use to say I’ve achieved a status not enjoyed by other people who look like me. I had to correct a skinfolk friend a few years ago, who jokingly said he wasn’t sure if he could visit because we lived in the high rent district. Trust me, it’s a long way from Rodeo Drive and I pass Go just like everyone else with a monthly mortgage in the six figures and an equally high property annual tax bill. We were annexed in the city 10 years ago and we’re still eating beans and weanies as a result.
The only reason I share all of this is that over the weekend, as the hot June sun and I were walking to check our mailbox, a car I was unfamiliar with turned on to our cul de sac and sped up the hill towards me. I paused in mid step waiting for the dark colored Mustang to pass by. The driver slowed, threw his un-melanin covered arm out of the driver’s side window and yelled a hearty “How are you doing?” My pause lasted more than a few additional seconds as I stood there motionless summing up the encounter. I traipsed carefully halfway down the hill, careful in thought and balance. As I sauntered back up, I sat on the brick wall that lines my driveway and thoughts began racing through my mind. At the same time, a couple, who probably wears more sunscreen than I do, were walking their dog and pushing a baby stroller past the entrance to our street. Before I could acknowledge them, they both raised their hands high and threw a gentle wave in my direction. More thoughts entered my scattered brain.
The pervasive thought as I sat perched on the wall was that if you watch the news, you would think there’s such a deep racial divide in this country where we have all circled our racial wagons and become overly territorial to the point that we fear and despise one another based solely on an incidental and irrelevant physical characteristic like skin tone. I’m not naïve to think hate, division and racism are not prevalent and pervasive in our overly political society. It excretes its toxicity from Pennsylvania Avenue and seeps down every road in every city. Our so-called leaders have made it ok to hate people publicly without fear of reprisal. Sociologist, writer, historian, and civil rights leader, the late W.E.B. Dubois, who was one of the original founders of the NAACP, said in his 1903 book, The Souls of Black Folk, “the problem of the 20th Century is the problem of the color-line”. Nearly a century and a quarter later, it remains a defining problem. We’ve somehow turned compassionate terms like diversity, equity, inclusion and woke into something to be ashamed and afraid of. But not me.
I want to be called woke because I see the most despicable people on earth use it as a slur and a means to deny basic humanity to their fellow man, and I will never do that. Regardless of color, national origin, gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation or religious preference, I’m awakened, attuned to and respectful of the rights of other people. I want people to live free of hate, harassment and feeling as if they have to suffer in silence simply because of the lack of compassion. humility and integrity of those walking but asleep. Instead of an attempt to bastardize the term, why not define it as a willingness to be welcoming, open, kind and empathetic towards others? I’ll continue to do my part to practice wokeness every day. Will you?
Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin lives in NC and is an alumni member of the National Association of Black Journalists
