Dancing Through The Pain

One of my best friends died last month, and his death has left a hole in my heart.  And while the hole will heal, the remaining scar will always ache. Like all testimonials about love, friendship and loss, it’s hard to know what to share and where to start, so I’ll just start at the beginning and share what's in my heart.

Before I arrived at Stanford, I’d attended almost a dozen schools, lived in three states and in twice as a many towns and cities. As consequence of this peripatetic childhold, I’d never had a best friend with whom I could share clothes, secrets and personal milestones. I arrived at Stanford as a reserved and introspective only child, and I probably seemed aloof to more than a few classmates. This is why the last person anyone—myself included—would have expected me to befriend was a gregarious, extroverted, Memphis-born and raised, youngest son, but he was blocking the dorm back door while I was moving in and insisted on introductions before letting me pass. Despite his cheekiness, I let "Magnus from Memphis" rope me into a long foot trek to the Stanford Mall (we later discovered that the shuttle we'd seen stopping in front of our dorm also stopped across the street from the mall), during which we swapped and bonded over life stories—with his including such embellishments as an overly-protective family and a false birth date. By the end of my first day as a college student, I had a best friend.

Even though we were as different as Memphis sweet tea and New Orleans café au lait, we were  inseparable. I was the “Ethel” to his “Lucy” and he was the yin to my yang. He was the social lodestar who forced me to pull my head out my books long enough to go to parties and Friday chill-outs, and I was his crisis manager and sounding board—and with Magnus, a bad haircut had to be treated with the gravity of a personal tragedy.

Despite the decades since our first meeting and the miles between us, he could still talk me into madcap mischief, and I could still convince him that what seemed like major drama was really just a minor episode. This is why, when he became discouraged while trying to buy his townhouse,  I was able to talk him out of walking away from the table and through a successful price negotiation. And this is why he could convince me to go dancing with a broken foot.

One of the last times that I saw Magnus, I was on a business trip during which I fell in the middle of a meeting and, unbeknownst to me, broke a small bone in my foot. Because we rarely saw each other, Magnus insisted that we have a nice meal and go dancing while I was in town. When I pointed to my swollen foot, he replied “Guurl, just tape it up real good." After doing exactly that and grabbing something to eat, we went to one of his favorite clubs and danced until the music stopped and the lights came on.

It's hard to understand how one friendship can shape and change someone's life. While I'll never know how our friendship shaped and changed him, I know how it shaped and changed me.  Even though he wasn’t the clothes-swapping, secret-sharing best friend I'd wished for while growing up (although his ability to fool me about his actual birth date—for over 30 years—suggests that he probably kept all the secrets I shared with him), Magnus was definitely the grown-up best friend I needed. Through our friendship, he taught me how to weave the dry straw of an existence into a golden life, and how to dance through whatever pain it brings. So whenever I think about him, I'm going to put some tape on my heart and just dance.

Embracing our proximity, while blocking our prosperity

While there have been numerous studies, reports and articles written about corporate discrimination, discrimination in the nonprofit arena is rarely discussed. Maybe it's because nonprofits are supposed to be bastions of do-gooders and "woke" liberals, so the idea that they would allow any type of workplace discrimination is inconceivable.

So imagine my surprise at seeing the results of the nation-wide Nonprofits, Race and Leadership Survey showing that blacks face enormous discrimination when pursuing nonprofit leadership opportunities. After working in a range of business organizations and living in both the North and the South, I can say that the difference between the corporate and nonprofit hiring discrimination faced by blacks in my generation, is very similar to the difference between the Northern and Southern racism faced by parents and grandparents.

In the North, whites are unconcerned about black prosperity, but they're very uncomfortable with black proximity. In the South, whites are comfortable living and being in close proximity to blacks, but resent seeing them achieve any measure of prosperity. This is why, prior to the Civil Rights Act forcing communities to protect the rights of their black citizens, Northern white racists would burn down a black person's house because it was next door to theirs, while Southern white racists would burn it down because it was bigger than theirs.

While most corporate discrimination involves not letting black candidates in the door (there's that proximity thing), nonprofit discrimination involves letting them in, but not letting them climb the ladder or have a corner office (and there's your prosperity angle).

After serving on the boards of two New Orleans charter schools and a New Orleans-based nonprofit that trains teachers, I've had numerous opportunities to see "prosperity discrimination" at work within the city's education reform-related organizations and institutions. At both charter schools and charter management organizations, the upper ranks are filled with young whites, many plucked from the classroom or an office cubicle with little more than a few years of education or general business experience. Conversely, the few blacks in leadership roles often have advanced degrees, along with a decade or more of relevant experience. It's as if the funders, influencers and decision-makers behind the reform movement believe that whites are supposed to be in charge of it and that few, if any, blacks are capable of implementing it.

Ironically, education reform is not the only area where I've gotten an upfront and personal view of "prosperity discrimination" in nonprofit organizations. Working in real development and finance has allowed me to see the juxtaposition of both "proximity" and "prosperity" racism up close, and feel the sting of it on more than one occasion.

Unlike most industries, real estate is divided into a profit-driven side and a social impact side. On the profit-driven side, you have companies and firms that focus on commercial real estate and market-rate housing. On the social impact side, you have community development and affordable housing organizations, most of which operate like or are structured as nonprofits. While the challenges faced by blacks pursing career opportunities in profit-driven real estate development and finance are well known, the challenges they face trying to advance on the community-focused, social impact side are lesser known but just as great...despite the fact that the "communities" in question, are often black ones.

At many affordable housing/community development and finance organizations, it is not uncommon for black employees to be given lesser titles than whites with similar management roles, or to see them relegated to lower organizational profiles than their tenure and experience would suggest. Conversely, it's not uncommon to see recent white college or urban planning masters program graduates, with only an internship on their resumes, placed in mid-career positions with one or more direct reports, and mid-career white professionals with very little relevant experience brought on board as directors or VPs.

In the case of one organization that I'm familiar with, black employees who'd repeatedly exceeded performance expectations were denied raises and promotions, while the CEO insisted on keeping one or more  white employees on the payroll simply because they "needed the money".

As the report has proven—and experience has shown me—whites in nonprofit organizations don't mind working WITH blacks, they just don't like or think they should be working FOR them. I just hope that some of the organizations working to provide blacks with equal access to educational and housing of opportunities, will start giving more blacks a chance to lead them in doing it.

Too Woke to Dream

Being black (and a woman) in America
Requires an exhausting level of hypervigilance.
So much so, that the mere act of survival,
Becomes success enough.

So we cautiously stay in our lanes,
Instead of venturing down roads less traveled.
Work just as hard to keep roofs over our heads,
As others work to shatter glass ceilings.
And settle for small corners of sunlight
Instead of shooting for the stars.

Because having to always stay woke,
Can make it is impossible to dream.

Like a good neighbor

I recently joined Nextdoor, a social network for neighborhoods. And while I initially thought it would just be an easy way to share resources and information with my neighbors, an unimagined benefit of joining has been the unique insights it has provided about the views, opinions and priorities of the people living around me.

In general, the majority of the exchanges in my Nextdoor circle—which encompasses my neighborhood and most of the uptown neighborhoods surrounding us—involve maintenance advice and recommendations, lost and found pet alerts, and info about upcoming community events.

While these discussions and posts demonstrate a general desire to be good neighbors, some discussions and posts are insighful for other reasons. Examples of these include:

-A rescue effort and veterinarian fund for an injured stray dog someone spotted on the Jeff Davis neutral ground. (To date, the dog has received treatment and has several people ready to adopt or foster him)

-A lively debate about which fruit trees the possums in our neighborhood have taken a liking to. (Grapefruit seems to be a popular choice)

-A heated discussion about how certain people and groups complain about not having jobs & opportunities, but are just too lazy to help themselves. (You know who you are, so I'll just skip the fingerpointing and name calling)

-Another heated discussion about how most of the native New Orleanians complaining about neighborhood gentrification were either too lazy or stupid to buy a home before the post-Katrina boom. (Unfortunately, no one has started a discussion thread to explain how we managed to create a robust, service-based tourism economy given how many lazy residents we must have had before Katrina)

-General posts about municipal issues, like the recent garbage can replacement project, that confirm the extent to which racist snowflakes and black politicians are destroying the city. (I suspect the reason that no one is ever willing to provide names and evidentiary details is due to city's litigious reputation)

-Heavy-hearted exchanges about how those hateful "social justice warriors" (SJW), in particular the ones who hate white supremacy monuments, have really changed the city and made some people want to leave. (FYI, while many of you SJWs may think D.A. Cannizzaro is the biggest threat to personal freedom, with his fake subpoenas and fondness for jailing witnesses and victims, I've learned that the distinction goes to your fellow SJW, Malcolm Suber)

-Numerous alerts about black cats sitting on people's steps, which I assume are for the benefit of our Wiccan, Vodun/Voodoo and superstitious neighbors.

I've learn so much about my neighbors views and opinions, that I'm eager to learn more about their households, in particular what they'll be selling when they have all those moving sales. And like a good neighbor, I want their relocation efforts to be successful, so I won't even quibble about the prices.

White Supremacy Bingo

Gotta love how white people sift through tens of thousands of news stories to find ones that provide confirmation bias, and give random reasons to vilify and attack blacks and Latinos, along with any groups or institutions they may be associated with?

Does social media have a secret white supremacy bingo game where you have to fill in the squares by being able to associate news reports with white supremacy trigger topics like quotas, BLM, immigration and Obama?

Just asking for a friend who might want to play if there's prize money involved.

We don't drink Abita in the hood

Dear NOLA Gentrifiers,

The reason you got such a great deal for your home is because, (drum roll)...IT'S...IN...THE...HOOD.

And guess what, people in the hood, do hood shit—like owning pit bulls (as opposed to chocolate labs and "snickerpoodles"), having loud gatherings, and walking everywhere.

Ironically, some of you moved to the hood with a "When in Rome..." attitude, and have actually embraced hood shit. (Don't think I didn't see you sitting on your porch the other night drinking Abita and eating Raisin' Cane's because you were too tired to cook.) And I'm cool with that, because I was a first-mover who paid less than half of what you paid for my house, and I've had more time to adjust to and get over the "newness" of hood shit.

The real problem is that you moved to the hood, thinking it would be cool to be able to do hood shit like drinking beer on your porch, but you hate seeing the people who held down the hood after your "momma nem" moved out to Metairie, doing the same hood shit.

To quote Tupac, "And you wonder why they call you bitch?"

The reason why our neighbors invite me to the barbeque and give you the side-eye, is because I haven't called NOPD (twice) to report seeing a "suspicious black guy" walking down the street, only to have him be  Miss So-and-So's son who's always walking because he does odd-jobs for people and can't afford car insurance.

So stop being petty and stop drinking Abita, because we don't drink Abita in the hood.

Survival over Secondlines

Yesterday I posted an article about people leaving New Orleans, but decided to refrain from sharing my thoughts. After seeing this story, I've changed my mind.

In addition to the poor economic prospects they face in New Orleans, relative to other cities (I've actually had a white college drop out who was making a six-figure salary tell me that $60K was "good money" for me despite my undergrad & grad degrees in engineering, art, business & urban redevelopment), professional & middle-class blacks are leaving New Orleans in droves because of their poor quality of life, exacerbated by second-class public services, in particular police protection.

While predominantly-black neighborhoods like New Orleans East, St Roch and the Seventh Ward deal with broken street lights, unaswered 911 calls and ambivalent police responses (ex. a crazy guy stood in the middle of busy street & threatened to 'blow my f'king head off,' and I had to call 911 twice, only for the dispatcher to ask me what I was wearing...but not the crazy guy), street lights are immediately fixed and cops immediately respond in predominantly-white areas like Tulane and Carrollton.

So while New Orleans has a nonstop supply of secondlines, festivals and other forms of cheap entertainment, being able to party all the time pales in comparison to being able to pay your bills every month and avoid getting killed.