Blk boys

Blk Boys Claiming Space, Reconstructing Images, and Moving Forward

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THE MAROON TIGER 1

Blk Boys Table of Contents

editors’ letters

4

I too, lost her

not forever

12

when in my skin

16

the taboo of the tattoo

the “F” word

20 23

2

27 31 32

36 39

all for masculinity

black men and mental health

fighting for you

just a word

Editorial Staff 2016 – 2017 Jayson Overby Editor-in-Chief & Layout Editor jayson.overby@morehouse.edu

Tucker Toole Staff Writer tuctat@aol.com

Caleb Barco Cartoonist caleb.barco@yahoo.com

Chad Rhym Managing Editor chad.rhym@morehouse.edu

Jair Hilburn Staff Writer jair.hilburn@morehouse.edu

Paul Brister Executive Producer paul.brister@morehouse.edu

Michael Scott Deputy Managing Editor michael.scott6@morehouse.edu

Miah Hardey Staff Writer mhardy9@scmail.spelman.edu

Madison McCaskey.

Social Media Director madisonmccaskey@gmail.com

Justin Carter Business Manager justin.carter@morehouse.edu

Timothy Tukes Contributing Writer tukes.timothy@gmail.com

Aaron Hobbs Social Media Director aaronh405@gmail.com

Ayron Lewallen Campus News Editor ayronlewallen@gmail.com

Tyra Seals Copy Editor tseals2@scmail.spelman.edu

Kylan Kester Project Manager kylan.kester@morehouse.edu

Isaiah Smalls Sports Editor claude.smalls@morehouse.edu

Irayah Cooper Copy Editor rayah.cooper@gmail.com

Christopher Morris Marketing chrismorris1995@gmail.com

Javon Wilson World and Local Editor javon.wilson12@gmail.com

Paul Brister Copy Editor paul.brister@morehouse.edu

Kailyn Brooks Marketing kbrook10@scmail.spelman.edu

Brandon Welcome Staff Writer brandon.welcome@morehouse.edu

Jonell Brown Copy Editor jdbrown905@gmail.com

Zuri Cheathem Marketing zuri.cheathem@morehouse.edu

Javonna Robinett Staff Writer javonnarobinett@gmail.com

Wesley Canady Copy Editor wesleycanady@gmail.com

Oran Williams, Jr. Assistant Layout Editor oran.williams@morehouse.edu

Robert James Staff Writer robert.james@morehouse.edu

Austyn Wychye Senior Photographer austyn.wyche@morehouse.edu

Robert James Assistant Layout Editor robert.james@morehouse.edu

Nicholas Clemmons Staff Writer nicholas.clemmons@morehouse.edu

KaiYanna Washington Photographer tsehayphotography@gmail.com

Ron Thomas Advisor ron.thomas@morehouse.edu

Laura Eley Staff Writer eley1@scmail.spelman.edu

Omar Ashhur Photographer omarashhur97@gmail.com

David Dennis Advisor davidjdennis@gmail.com

Grant Bennett Staff Writer bennett.grant15@gmail.com

Chris Covington Photographer clip2195@gmail.com

Greater Georgia Printers Printing Services (706) 208-8800

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From The Editor, Forcing Myself To Find A Vision And Define Black Men Chad Rhym What’s more daunting than a single endeavor, a lone aspiration and an opportunity to articulate and define the anomalous black male? In the first stages of production for the venture, the title alone precipitated a cloud of angst and discomfort amongst the politically correct, “Black male” was specific and distinct.

The project initially seemed as a figment, the idea sang to me as a largerthan-life ballad, not once in the beginning of production did I truly take the possibility seriously. I held a preconceived notion that it was impossible for our small staff to feasibly have the tools, ambition and coerciveness as a unit to be able to create “Black Male.” However, as brainstorms became more concrete and deadlines were established in stone, it was written that “Black Male” would be given life.

The Maroon Tiger staff collectively was Dr. Victor Frankenstein, and this process of producing “Black Male” felt adjacent to Frankenstein building the monster. Frankenstein had a similar fictitious bigger than life vision, but, when the creature finally came to life Dr. Frankenstein lost all autonomy and capacity that he once held when the monster was still just a vision. When alive – the monster ran free, and eventually ruined his creator’s life with its inadvertent and horrid destruction. Dr. Frankenstein eventually dies alone, and the audience is left with the choice of deciding who is at fault for the chaos – Dr. Victor Frankenstein or the Monster.

In the most literal sense, the contrast between “Black Male” and The Monster is a playful metaphor, but figuratively, the comparison in perspective of impact and significance is authentically 4

real. The pragmatism of the project was intimidating and the power behind the gravity of “Black Male” was menacing.

The monster that was – “Black Male” intimidated me, I did not once think of the good that could come from the project, but consistently exaggerated the nightmare of simply – doing a bad job.

My initial fear was social partisan.

The guilt of leaving a demographic behind. It’s an unwritten rule that ethical news is achieved through fair and balanced coverage, and emphasizing solely the black male felt inequitable.

However, The Maroon Tiger was confident with the mission of this project. We grasped that there are obviously social issues outside of the Black Maleregarding different races, genders, sexualities creeds, religion, social class etc.

However, as a staff, it was decided, as an organ of expression for - Morehouse College, the coverage needed to tell the stories, addressing the issues, and celebrating the beauty of our own student body- Black Males.

The weight behind the responsibility of getting the stories ‘right’ deemed to me as unmanageable, and as managing editor, there was an urgency to express that this idea felt discriminatory to everyone else. But, of course, it was just an excuse for my selfish personal insecurity towards the potential accountability of not doing “Black Male” justice. There was a looming terror of getting our own narrative wrong.

The more we worked and discussed the complexities and intricacy of “Black Male”, the less intimidating the monster became. My embryonic rejections of Black Male were birthed from fear of offending a demographic, or again, just

literally creating a bad product.

Despite new comfortability for the vision, I continued to consistently force myself to dig for some conflict within our coverage. I partook in days of selfassessment and finding self-worth - all geared towards my neglect for the success of this project - I couldn’t decipher why I was so against making “Black Male” work.

At the bottom of the figurative hole, there was incongruity, I found that these stories were all so relatable. I wanted the allegory, that was “Black Male,” to be superficial, to not mean anything, I didn’t want to hear more struggles and pain from boys who looked like me, written by me. I didn’t want to see my pain vicariously displayed through someone else, especially that someone else being a black boy.

But again, as articles were beginning to finalize, yes, there were those painful narratives of adversity, anguish and agony. But, there was so much more also about triumph, so much more about black boys with 4.0 GPAs, so much more about Black Boys caring, so much more about Black Boys loving, so much more about Black Boys being alive.

The project, “Black Male,” is a platform for unbolted conversation, and not for fastened categorization. Through this magazine, the newspaper, the video– we deeply encourage everyone to partake in dialogue in regard to the “Black Male.”

Whether that be celebrating, critiquing, rejoicing, praising, or criticizing, if anything - learn, mourn commemorate and identify with these stories through the words and visuals displayed within the project. This is for y’all.

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Deputy Managing Editor An Opening Letter Welcome all, When Jayson sat me down and insisted on creating a work titled “Black Male,” I knew that the publication had to be honorable to its name. Tasked with creating the framework for the magazine, I pondered the theme for a few days, until looking to my dictionary that stands atop my dresser. Prying it open, I noticed the word “precious.” This word functioned as the foundation for this compendium. We fashioned this publication to serve as an anthology of experiences, not only representing the valiant and the ingenious, but also the delicate and the conflicting.

“Black Male” composes a multifaceted conversation, highlighting various perspectives and voices that attempt to provide an update on the state of the Black male. We endeavor this goal through three installments: (1) the newspaper, (2) the video interviews, and (3) the magazine.

We understand that no significant conversation could ever be limited to finite, bound pages nor audio and pixels within a recording. Respecting this, we sought to involve multiple, integral angles to allow for substance to marry coherence. This partnership furnishes a particular, refined degree of discourse that makes reading this work more than a magazine, rather an experience.

With the arrangement of being carefully crafted and the intent of remaining timelessly treasured, I invite you to partake in this precious conversation.

With pleasure, Michael Scott Deputy Managing Editor

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“..they say it takes a village to raise a child, but look at the villages” – Chinelo Tyler

A Cry For Elders Who Owns the Mystique Johnathan D. Hill, 85th SGA President It gets lonely sometimes, you know.

Those moments when we’re forced to realize that no one is thinking about us, yet we’re thinking about everyone else. Yeah, that kind of lonely. The lonely where we look for every excuse not to address our own hollowness that we fool ourselves into thinking that there’s no need for anyone to fill that place. We find ourselves thinking that we can handle everything that comes our way. The loneliness where our pride in our own work has made us blind to the simple things. The things that weren’t ever considered articles for placement, but articles of content. The things that completed us.

Being in a position like this you can easily forget about the little things that matter: being brotherly, pure genuineness, having a proficient level of compassion, being ok with failing in front of others – tunnel vision. That’s the excuse we commonly elaborate on to disregard our selfishness in our own work, our own success. Being so driven not to fail, we find ourselves failing at the one thing we revere the most – the idea that you can come to Morehouse and no matter your background, Mother Morehouse provides a path to find this Mystique within them to prosper.

But as Men of Morehouse, what are we challenged to do with it?

Earlier in the week, students had the opprotunity to hear President John Wilson explain how his mindset is simply that he’s ‘being the President he always wanted to see.’ And although I may not be running an entire college, I sort of have that same mindset. The idea that you’re supposed to model the behavior you want others to follow. I mean, that’s what I thought I was doing – but it took my brother to call me out on some of my nonsense.

Not Little Bill. Not, JD. Not, “the people’s president.” Ok, maybe the last title is a little subjective, but this is my story, so can I think I can be selfish.

But, yeah, we would have to call nonsense on ourselves. I sit here puzzled, a bit taken aback, as to why we’re [the students] having to mandate conversations about brotherhood, existing, and claiming space, at large, but also here at Morehouse.

I am neither exempt or left out that narrative, because at points I also fall short.

Being brotherly doesn’t come at a price? It’s as simple as showing up when they need you there, holding each other down. Hell, even spending

a few more hours on campus to kick in the Freshman Houses to dialogue.

I mean, we remember when that was the case as an underclassman.

As student leaders, we have an obligation to do what was done for us.

And that’s to pour into these Young Kings, so they’re prepared to pour into the villages. We aren’t to become so big headed that we illuminate this perceived notion that we’re always good. The Mystique doesn’t belong to us; we must share it.

Maybe, vulnerability is the key.

Disclosing the gap between brotherhood and achievement, I have to be a better brother if I want a better brother.

We were given the opportunity to partner with the Maroon Tiger on Black Male, and it’s something the Student Government Association (SGA) will be intentional with to preserve the Man of Morehouse. We will study the 21st century Black man and everything about him. If we continue to suppress the full story, we’ll all continue to be trapped and lonely in our own mystique. Outside of 830 Westview Dr., there’s a different world, and if we don’t take time to cultivate these Noble men, we’ll lose them to self-pride or [trump]ed hate.

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Photography By: Austyn Wyche

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Photography By: Chad Rhym

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Photography By: Omaar Ashhur

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Photography By: Omaar Ashhur

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Not Forever When Things Seemed Uncertain – He Didn’t

By: Jayson Overby

If you know him as Slim, you probably know him as Willard, and if you don’t know him as Willard, then you know him as Will Lowry. Country with his twang and choosy with his words, he’s a native of St. Louis, and the city is very much a part of his image. In a crowd, he’s not easy to recognize.

Just well over 6-feet tall, his demeanor is reserved, but in his Air Jordan’s, True Religions, and Ralph Lauren – he doesn’t go unnoticed.

He’s from Genevieve, that’s 5400 block.

Northside St. Louis with his allure.

When Slim was a kid, he said, “I watched my mama make it through everything.”

He made it through the struggle, made it out the mud. But to make it out the mud is more than beating the odds, it’s deeply rooted in an unmatched grind followed with an understanding of the streets, and even paired with intelligence.

“I’m a star, ya dig,” he said. “My momma always told me I was special because one day somebody going to tell me I’m not, so that’s what I embody – a star.”

When he was in the 9th grade, he pushed out his first mixtape, “Journey to Nowhere.” With no real structure, he wasn’t rapping about the “struggle” he knew, it was just rapping. Shifting from a metaphorical framework, he began telling his story, one which he knew more than anyone.

His first debut tape, under Will Lowry, P.O.L.O (Players Only Live Once) is a testament to it all. With 10 soundtracks in total, his sound is more matured and organized. Several of the songs on P.O.L.O take the form of a trap-house flow, very much an indirect gesture to Pimp C. Slowed down with kick drums and menacing lyrics, he’s talking about life issues – he got it [hi hustle] off the floor.

“I’ve grinded for this, I’ve sweated for this, stayed up late nights, and even slept on floors – I’m doing it the right way,” Lowry said. “I’m not taking no fly-by-ass deal just because it sounds right.”

He went to Morehouse, but he didn’t stay there. Yet still, three years later he’s making it by. And although his collegiate career ended abruptly, he’s still alongside those same guys who aided in his transition from the streets, to academia, and then back to it.

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Photography By: Jayson Overby

“I’m a star, ya dig. My momma always told me I was special because one day somebody going to tell me I’m not, so that’s what I embody – a star.”

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Photography By: Chris Covington

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W

W 15

Am I A Male Femenist?

Embracing the “F” word

By Jair Hilburn Whenever we look back on history, we see a plethora of obstacles that many different communities have had to overcome. Overcoming these obstacles made the world a better place. In this day and age, some of these battles are still being fought. Women are still fighting the patriarchal society that fails to view them as equals.

Feminism is a movement that still remains relevant in today’s society because it is needed.

“Feminism to me means fighting for the equality of the sexes,” freshman Spencer Nabors said. “It’s about breaking and restructuring the gender binary, empowering women, and working towards deconstructing patriarchy.”

However, there is still more work that needs to be done in order for this goal to be achieved. This movement is meant to help the women in our society, but that doesn’t mean that it is restricted to just women. By men lending a hand and raising their voices, the movement would progress at a faster rate. Black male feminists would not only help the movement, but it would also give more Black women the unabashed opportunity to be included as well.

“I don’t necessarily identify as a feminist because, in my opinion, feminism doesn’t include me in being woman of color,” freshmen Neely Woodroffe said. “In terms of oppression, being Black and a woman is like having two strikes against you before you even wake up. It is working against the strict gender roles, stigmas, and limitations of being a woman all while simultaneously working against the racial issues experienced while being a Black person.” Even some Black male feminists understand that.

It’s the reason why they were hesitant on identifying as a feminist.

“At first I didn’t agree with

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feminism because I thought it wasn’t intersectional,” freshmen feminist Kaleb Lewis said. “Now really looking at it, it still needs work but it is something for all women… [if ] I could say [anything] to a Black male to encourage them to be a feminist it is to look at your arguments about how you feel as a black male and double it, and you get a Black woman’s story.”

In this day and age, the most well-know example of the feminist movement is the Woman Suffrage Movement in 1848. Black males were granted the right to vote in 1870 even though there were laws that intentionally prevented the majority from voting. Suffragettes, consisting mostly of White women due to preventative measures to restrict Black membership, fought for the right to vote. On the other end, Black women had to fight just to be included in the movement that was striving for equality for their gender.

“We need to realize that White males were willing to give up their racist beliefs before they gave up their sexist beliefs,” Lewis said. “They were so bent on keeping women in their place that they would give Black males the right to vote before White women.”

Even today, the people of color are not as included in the feminist movement as they should be. They are still denied the respect that they deserve. Black males can use their male privilege to ensure that their voices are heard, more so than the majority of Black women.

The first step to helping the advancement of the movement is not difficult. “I believe that the way that Black men can help with the feminist movement is to stop talking and listen,” Lewis said. “For me, feminism has helped me own my privilege as

a man in society. As men, we are respected just because of what’s in between our legs.”

Anatomy aside, there are Black women that inspire other Black men to become feminists because they simply believe in universal equality.

“I would tell them that being a feminist or a womanist does not make them less of a man and does not emasculate them,” Woodroffe said. “Often times when a privileged group is met with resistance from an oppressed group, they feel that they are losing power or that something is personally being taken away from them. Black men need to know that Black women are not taking anything from you, we would just like a level playing field. We want to be seen as equals.”

Usually the phrases like “as a father to a daughter,” “as a husband to a wife,” or “as a brother to a sister” are used in order to persuade males to become feminists. This may be effective, but when it comes to equality, there should not be a need for persuasion.

“I disagree with this language because you should not have to have a significant woman in your life to believe in gender equality,” Nabors said. “As a human being, you should believe in equality.”

No matter what, we should always remember that we all have at least one woman in our lives. This movement is meant for them. If they aren’t being represented, we, Black men, should be there to make sure that they get the representation that they deserve. We should fight to make sure that they are being respected for their thoughts and not their bodies alone.

“No woman deserves to be in a society that values her for her body and not her mind, Lewis said. “No one deserves that.”

Being Second-Guessed

By Benjamin James First Vice President/SunTrust Bank

I have worked in Corporate America for close to 15 years. My professional resume includes time as a Corporate and Private Banker. As a part of the revenue-generating side of the business (origination and underwriting), I often find that I am the only Black male on the deal team. Being “The Only” has never been an issue for me as I have dealt with it my entire life: from the schools that I attended, prior to Morehouse, and the sports I played (hockey and soccer).

As I got older I began to realize that being on par or even better than my white counterparts was not going to be good enough to be considered for the same positions. This was a fact that my parents prepared me for, from the time that I was old enough to understand the meaning of competition.

It has been my experience that Black males are often questioned with heavily-coded phrases like will he fit in despite having equal or better skills compared to their White males who often receive the benefit of the doubt in the corporate world. As a Black male, I knew in order to be successful, I needed to blow the competition away and leave no doubt in everyone’s mind that I was the best choice for the job.

The phrase that you need to be twice as good to get half as much is still applicable to this day.

Even after securing the job, I have seen and experienced that Black males’ ideas are overlooked and our work product is often second-guessed.

I once witnessed a Black male colleague go to an extreme measure to prove that his work was being second-guessed and criticized, not because of his work product – but because of the color of his skin. For months, he received negative feedback despite correcting and addressing every criticism outlined in his work.

My colleague decided to put a white colleague’s name on the top of the analysis that he submitted to his manager. As he suspected, this newly labeled analysis was accepted without any criticism or correction. When he informed his manager that the analysis submitted was actually written by him, the manager tried to justify the difference in opinion on the work product, but the man stuttered and mumbled incoherently when he realized that he was caught red-handed. It was too obvious that the manager automatically assumed any work by my Black male colleague was not as good as that of our White counterparts in the office.

This example is probably one of the most blatant illustrations of entitlement and prejudice, but in my time in Corporate America I have experienced and witnessed countless examples – even after having been identified as a top-performer and senior contributor.

So, how have I been able to navigate and tolerate Corporate America knowing that there is an embedded mindset that Black males are not as good as White males? I recognize that Corporate America is a reflection

of life. You work with it, through it, and around it. Racism, bigotry, and prejudice are still heavily rooted in our society regardless of if people realize when they are contributing to it or when they are on the receiving end of it.

I choose to be a member of Corporate America, as the technical skills I have learned have allowed me to contribute to society in a way in which I would have never been able to otherwise. After 15 years, I am confident in who I am and can recognize when I am on the receiving end of unjustified criticism. I learned from my colleague’s experience that it is important to point out prejudice, if only to let someone know that you recognize what is happening. Do I expect that by pointing it out it I will make a drastic difference and change the scope of Corporate America as a whole? No, but little by little I make people think twice about their actions and how they interact with Black males in Corporate America. They need to interact with who is actually in front of them and not a preconceived notion of who the person is.

As mentioned earlier, my parents prepared me well for what my personal life and corporate life would be. Morehouse further provided me with the confidence to speak my mind, but to do so in a dignified manner.

And to share a little secret, the colleague who called out his manager is also a Morehouse Man.

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outside these walls

Your walls stand tall; One on every side.

Relaxing along, while the musician plays his song.

At every angle I am greeted by your rays These rays that bind me.

These rays that blind me.

Nothing’s wrong, with that.

I cannot see.

Oh white room, Why are you so bright to me.

A fright to me, Restricting all that I am, All that I have Let me sit in my dark room, In peace and tranquility.

By: Michael Scott Photography By: Omaar Ashhur

Painted walls.

Colorful music.

Lights dimmed.

Smooth Jazz.

This is the ambiance I wish to have.

Remove yourself white room.

I have no desire to be embraced by your bland walls.

For this is the room where the music moves; I let my spirit soak up its flavor.

This is the ambiance I wish to have.

Painted walls.

Colorful music.

Lights dimmed.

Smooth Jazz.

Oh white room, You are spacious but quite dull, you see.

Let me sit in my dark room, In peace and tranquility.

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Trading Masks of Authenticity for Masculinity By: Javon Wilson

Little black boys have always been fed strict rules on manhood. Black boys are being raised in small boxes that limit their freedom of expression. These same Black boys, turned Black men, cannot be fashion designers and still be perceived as heterosexual. If a black man does not like sports, the world stops.

I became distraught. Fighting with myself, the words “Get out of my face!” rattled my brain. “Why can’t boys dance?” I asked myself.

What I came to realize was that black boys specifically are not to dance.

Black boys always have to fight — physically — through any adversity. Odell Beckham Jr. (OBJ), a widereceiver for the New York Giants and known for his one-handed acrobatic catch, famously had his sexuality come into question. Being a star football player, one’s sexuality is typically not questioned because they are presumed heterosexual with their decision to engage in a masculine activity: football. Although his catch made him a break-out star in sports, such popularity rendered him susceptible to inquisitive journalists that monitor his every move.

Beckham Jr., outside of his pictureperfect catch, always posts Instagram videos of himself dancing. This display of perceived femininity put him in the hot seat regarding his sexuality. The gay rumors began once his Instagram feed became populated with endless videos

of him dancing well — but often while shirtless with male friends. His former teammate and close friend from Louisiana State University, Kavahra Holmes is usually with him in his dance videos. According to the academic field of Gender and Sexuality, this places his masculinity in a spectrum between homoeroticsm and homosocialaity.

Homoeroticsm is showing any essence of homosexual desire, whereas homosociality gauges the social relationships between persons of the same sex, primarily men. Beckham Jr. exists along that thin line. According to Slate magazine, there is an outing campaign in the works to force OBJ to come out as gay.

In December 2015, there was postgame footage of him, seemingly, admiring his fellow teammate, Landon Collins’ butt. The footage looked “suspect,” making way for more rumors. The media went into a frenzy trying to deduce his sexuality. The constant demand for Black masculinity can often put those who come up short on trial for living outside the norms.

The media’s reaction to his Instagram videos and the various pictures of him with other celebrities like Drake and Trey Songz, has highlighted the limitations of our freedom to express ourselves as Black men. Black Masculinity becomes a toxic world in which to live. It thwarts men of their way to make healthy and authentic friendships. It shrinks that vast possibilities

of being a Black man, fostering a sense of loneliness and despair to achieve an absolute standard.

While Odell Beckham Jr. is having fun dancing as a football player, he is stretching the limitations to freely express oneself as a Black man. In comparison to White men, Black men do not have the luxury of testing these limits. Channing Tatum, a well-known actor, was applauded for voguing — a style of dance that predominates in the gay community — in a shoot for Vanity Fair. White men have much more freedom to express themselves in many facets: ballet, art, fashion, affection, and the list goes on.

Recently, a contestant on the TV show “Lip Sync Battle,” Tatum battled his wife, Jenna Dewan in a lip sync competition. Tatum performed Let It Go from the Disney movie Frozen. He sported an ice-blue dress with crystal shoes and a fishtail braided white wig.

In the last round of the rivalry, he did a rendition of Beyonce’s Run The World (Girls), decked out in another dress complemented by theatrical make-up.

White men have no societal limit. White men do not have baseless outing campaigns springing up from mere conjecture. Most of the frenzy comes from our fellow Black men that tend to live within the limits and enjoy to exacerbate a societal mistake. Remove the societal shackles from your mind. Stop persecuting your brother and start embracing authenticity.

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Pictured below, are images of my dad as a child, a high school graduate, and an adult. In the bottom left corner, my grandfather is represented by an image he passed onto his sister.

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Fighting For You Jayson, Lil Jake, and Abdul Jahada Qudir

By: Jayson Overby

Below, my dad’s back is pictured with a nickname we share: “Jake.”

I’ve went by the nicknames “Lil Jake” or “Jake the Snake.”

I come from a city where you don’t shoot grandmas, kids, and baby mamas.

In the streets, if you’re going to shoot, you must do it right, or don’t do it at all. Our boys ain’t never been boys, just young niggas with an itch for the streets and a want for the block. Our big homies become surrogate fathers, your sister’s boyfriend becomes a brother you ain’t never had, and the whole hood had eyes on you simply because you were the ‘lil-brother, or cousin, of some folk who once ran the city.

I don’t know too much about you Dad, but I can only imagine you were brought up the same way. While I presume that you’re a good guy, I can’t say that we’ve spent more than 25 minutes together, in conversation, and learning about one another. By blood, I’m your son, and Abdul Jahada Qudir’s grandson.

Of all the Black men I’ve ever depended on in my lifetime, I’d have to say you’ve been the biggest disappointment of them all. But still, Dad, I love you no less. Our relationship, or the lack thereof, isn’t characterized by our weak interpersonal relationship, but rather our admiration for your grandmother and your daughter, my twin sister.

You love my sister, so I love you.

My research, in 21-years of being your son, shows that I’m more like you then you know — but it hasn’t ruined how I think about you.

In April of 2015, The New York Times (NYT) reported 1.5 Million Black men missing. Those men, who were namely missing because of death or incarceration, are denoted as staggering statistics. In the article, NYT reports more than one out of every six black men who today should be between 25 and 54 years old have disappeared from daily life.

Here’s the thing, dad – you ain’t dead nor incarcerated. Yet you’re missing from my life.

Your absence, from what I know and understand isn’t the result of mass incarceration or a fatal shooting. Perhaps, your understanding of fatherhood is limited, largely due to the relationship that you may have had with your

own father, or the men who raised you.

What’s the problem?

What was your dad like? I’ve met his sister, but don’t know much about him; just some stuff I’ve gathered from the many conversations with my aunt, and the photos I’ve seen of him. He seems like a well-rounded guy in all aspects.

Nonetheless, I didn’t have a chance to meet him, you must know more. It’s kind of crazy, because I look like both of y’all and take on traits that have been associated with the both of you. I’m your son, damn.

Days ago, a friend asked me, ‘What do you want for your birthday?’ Trembling, I replied, ‘For my dad to call me and to tell me that he loves his son.’ We ain’t spoke in months, Dad. And the last time I saw you, we dapped one another up as if we were just regular niggas on the street. In an estimated crowd of more than 1.3 million people who gathered there for a parade, I still felt alone in those seconds that we grasped hands. After that brief moment, we just continued on with our lives.

My Uncles: Cle, Buddy, and Boo, made up for your absence – but they ain’t you. My brother-in-law: Big Drew, made up for your absence – but he ain’t you. My cousins: Delshawn, Delmont, Darnelle, ‘Lil Cle, Aaron, Darron, Mike, and Rock made up for your absence – but they ain’t you. My nephews Deontay, David, Andre, Lil Dre, and Vontay, made up for your absence – but they ain’t you. Not long ago, I lost my Uncle Bobby, who was like a surrogate father – but still dad, he ain’t you.

Even your sister, Nikki, made up for your absence – but she ain’t you. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for her bringing us around your family, we’d not know a lot about where you come from, man. You owe her a lot, and make sure she knows you appreciate her.

Nonetheless, you owe a great deal to the men who’ve raised your son. But most importantly, my sister’s dad. I’ve never met a man like Kevin, one who loves me as if I were his own bloodline.

Yet still, Dad, I love you nonetheless.

But man, step up and be a father. You’re killing your son.

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Photography By: Omaar Ashhur

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I picked that photo ‘cause it’s the only photo I have of my mother smiling.

– Carnell Hunnicutt

This is one of the few pictures I have of me and my mom, and it really means a lot to me.

– Brandon Walker

My grandmother was the first of her eighteen siblings to attend college, so it was very important that each of her children and their children had the same opportunity. She gave us a number on dollar bills on different accounts.

The goal was to raise money for college tuition, and over the years, she saved over $3,000 for me to attend Spelman.

I keep a dollar bill with my number –6– in my room, as a daily reminder to keep pushing because eventually, my hard work will “pay off!”

– Jordyn Walston

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I Too, Lost Her Dealing With The Loss Of A Black Mother By: Maya Lewis Photography By: KaiYanna Washington

There was never much time during the week – between basketball practices, working from 9-5, and a house of three boys to cook and clean after.

Somehow, Marla Owens could make time stop when she was with her sons – even in the small moments riding home from practice. Marla could be found on the sidelines of a basketball court offering criticism to the referee or in the kitchen cooking after the game. As a part time fashionista, a dirty basketball sneaker would never scuff the hardwood floors in her home.

Precise as could be, she kept up with everything.

Early in his childhood, William, Marla’s eldest son, began to see that his mother enabled him to see things that his friends just did not understand.

As the child of a single parent, new Jordan’s and PlayStation games were rare surprises for him. But, lessons about cleanliness, being on time for class (or, else) and defying the limits that his teachers had set for Black boys— all proved to be invaluable.

Taking a view behind the scenes, Marla’s strict rules and loud voice communicated her “unbreakable determination and loving spirit.”

Black women full of magic, akin to Marla, bear the full weight of the world with poise and grace each day.

Our Black mothers, aunts, and grandmothers share this magic with us, each and every day. Often, it is misunderstood as tough love or a longstanding bitterness. In reality, however, the world is just heavy.

William’s fondest memories include his mother and his two brothers.

When the family went out to eat, the boys took bets on how many times Mom would send her food back before she was satisfied with its quality. She upheld her gustatory integrity, not because she was difficult, rather because she wanted food of quality— just like everything else in her life —to be the best that it could be.

Aside from implicitly living it, Marla would often take time to instill various values in her sons; two of which include self-respect and preparation.

“She was my god,” William recalls.

“Looking back, I always think - how did you do all that in the same 24 hours we had?”

Yet, even with Black women’s ethereal abilities, the weight of the world is wearing. In August of 2015, Marla began to feel an odd energy disrupting her space. Later that month, William received a phone call from his mother, just like any other day. Without a greeting, Marla revealed that she had been diagnosed with stage-4 liver cancer, and at forty-five years old, she had nine months to live. For the first time, William recognized that his mother was not a mystical god, but instead a Black woman who had taken on the responsibilities of the world.

Coupled with the recent loss of his job and home, William moved back from Atlanta to Maryland to complete his “ultimate repayment.” Throughout the next few months, William watched his mother refuse to let others coddle her; in the face of death, she fearlessly rejected the notion that she could no longer be independent. Only in the last few weeks of her life did William

see his goddess vulnerable, as he held and caressed her as she had done while he was a child— this was the only way that he knew how to thank her.

Often Black mother figures in our lives work so gracefully that we often forget the scope of their responsibilities. Marla, in example, “made life look so easy, ‘cause she was so good at it.”

Eleven months after the first fateful call, Marla Owens died of rapidly metastasizing liver cancer.

Without her physical presence, William says “her big house isn’t a home anymore.” Sometimes, it is hard for him to get out of bed. Sometimes, it is hard for his brothers to feel okay going to dinner without her. However, her spirit still dwindles in the corners of his life. After losing his mother, William decided to follow his passion for entrepreneurship, as his mother would have wanted it. “She wasn’t scared to take a leap to make a better life,” he says, “I have to follow her legacy.”

The complete loss of a Black mother figure is nearly impossible; as the lessons that they leave on Earth are everlasting. Black mothers exemplify the purest forms of hard work, perseverance and unconditional love. And, as it is drawn into their very being, they very rarely receive the recognition that they deserve. Sometimes, William still sees his mother – driving with the windows down, or even singing her rendition of Mary J Blige’s Testimony. These moments of pure bliss give William reassurance on difficult days, and highlight the essence of Black motherhood – the weight of the world on their back but yet, serving without a care in the world.

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Photography By: KaiYanna Washington

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When In My Skin Brothers and sisters; Open your eyes, Open your mind.

To the government schemes and designs Let’s not act naive no need to be blind, We are living in the end of times This country is not made for us to survive Change Gone Come, yet change aint arrived This is sickening, no value for black existence Before they killed Trayvon, They mutulated Emmet.

Killed 4 Little Girls and Assisinated Martin in Memphis Then went to Florida to Bomb the Moores Kicked down the doors to kill Fred Hampton in Chicago, Ilinois Murdered Medgar in Mississippi, Then gunned down Malcolm in New York While Thomas Shipp and Abaram Smith Hung from a tree in Indiana, They beat and shot Jimmy Lee Jackson in Alabama Frank Morris, Isaiah Henry, Oneal Moore in Louisianna Cut the feet of Kunte so he could not escape We Need Change.

See I’m not hanging in the streets, But rather hanging in the schools.

Because a few years ago, I’d be hanging from a noose.

Photography By Omar Ashhur

By Shaquille Lampley

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TheTaboo of the

tattoo By: Chad Rhym

Photography By: Austyn Wyche

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o

There’s that myth or saying that ‘if you have a lot of tattoos, you won’t get a good government job, or a good job period.’ Well, my resume is pretty strong.

Roderick Glenn

There is more than likely an abundance of reasons behind anyone’s lack of desire to get a tattoo: you have probably heard the horrific stories of pain by way of the infamous needle, perhaps the permanency behind a lifelong decision is frightening, or maybe disrupting your body’s open canvas – aesthetically, just isn’t for you.

Everyone’s basis behind wanting or not wanting a tattoo is different.

However, according to a report from the Young Invincibles via the Atlantic, “African-American millennial men need two or more levels of education to have the same employment prospects as their white peers.” In addition, Sage Journals reports, “Visible tattoos have a predominantly negative effect on employment selection.”

For sophomore Business Marketing major, Roderick Glenn, who is draped in his black skin and tattoos, these data suggest that he should not have had the vast success that he experienced over the past years as a result of his anomalous aesthetic.

“There’s that myth or saying that if you have a lot of tattoos, you won’t get a good government job, or a good job period,” Glenn says. “Well, my resume is pretty strong. I’ve had four internships so far. I’ve had six jobs before internships. I worked with Home Depot and had a United Parcel Service internship. I’ve been pretty successful in finding jobs with the government and in general. I just knew how to carry myself and I never had to express to anyone who was hiring me anything about my tattoos.”

There is an evident, negative stigma behind getting a tattoo. It would be foolish to assume that no Black males in higher corporate positions have tattoos, but it begs to question, why do Black males experience more downside risk to their job prospects versus other races, in obtaining these permanent marks?

For Dimone Long II, a junior

Political Science major and Women’s Studies minor, he proudly displays body ink.

“I probably have around twentyfive tattoos – my favorite would have to be the one right below my rib cage – it depicts pyramids and a spaceship… I got it the summer of my senior year of high school. What inspired me to get it was my dad.

People would typically call him crazy because he would always propose these outlandish theories – so with that, I grasped it, understood it and supported it. It aligned with what I believed,” Long said.

A common theme in the Black community regarding tattoos is family. There is a clear consistency between the relationship of ink and kin.

“I got my first tattoo at fourteen; it was my mom’s name,” Long said.

“As I look at it now, these tattoos are memories of who I am, where I come from and how I used to think. This is a standpoint on how I’ve progressed.

So when I look at my tattoos, I’m like, damn, ‘I’ve come a long way from wanting to have tattoos covering my whole body, and actually using my mind and having a conceptual basis for my tattoos.”

On the contrary, although it is common to dedicate tattoos to pay homage to family, not everyone will understand the art. Family members themselves are often the most difficult critics.

“Of course, [getting tattoos] is going to all be very judgmental, it’s hard coming up. My mom used to preach to me in middle school and high school – ‘No tattoos no tattoos, no tattoos and no tattoos,’ but I was a reckless kid. I was going to get tattoos that she said no to. I didn’t care, and I was taking my punishment, but, it was what it was. I knew I wanted tattoos because it expressed me, it defined me.”

Whether perceived as positive or negative, tattoos are reminders. They are manifestations of what you want to be evoked through the marking of your skin. Jarvis Mays, a sophomore Biology major from Trenton, New Jersey holds a 4.0 grade point average and is a member of Phi Delta Epsilon, a prominent Biology fraternity.

Through tattoos, Mays expresses triumph and his past.

“I don’t get [tattoos] that are temporary. My father recites this quote, ‘I don’t get permanent solutions to a temporary problem.’ So, if this tattoo on my right arms of the doves and the Virgin Mary – if that only represented my depression – I probably wouldn’t have gotten it. I probably would’ve gone to therapy like I do and called it a day. The fact that it represents that [people] are never not going to have hard times in their lives, to me, pays tribute to more than my anxiety or depression.”

Regardless of misconceptions or any stigma behind Black males and tattoos, if you want something, you are going to go get it. Whether that be simply wanting your first tattoo or wanting to survive in diverse spaces as a Black male with tattoos.

“I know at the end of the day that I’m smart, I will be very capable of doing my job – so if you are so superficial enough to think that I am less qualified because of the things that I have on my skin, that’s to your disadvantage, not mine,” Mays said. “I don’t live for the world, I live for myself. I don’t do what I do because I like it – I do it because I love it – and I want to be amazing at it. I want to do it so well that it doesn’t matter what’s on my skin, it doesn’t matter how I dress, it doesn’t matter how I talk. When I’m in the operating room, shut up.

You can’t say I don’t do my job well.

And I think the fact that my tattoos potentially put me at a disadvantage, make me work that much harder.”

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Photography By: Austyn Wyche 34

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Black Men, Mental Health and Psychological Scars By: Brandon Welcome

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In May 2016, Teen Vogue released an article titled “Trauma From Slavery Can Actually Be Passed Down Through Your Genes” The article cited slavery and the Holocaust as events that can understandably contribute to the “intergenerational transmission of trauma.”

Since our arrival to the United States of America centuries ago, African Americans have been terrorized, victimized, and dehumanized. Slavery, post-slavery Jim Crow, and modernday institutional racism — including police brutality, have been the realities faced by generations and generations of black people in this country. The extensive duration and intensity of trauma inflicted on black bodies in this country would be more than enough to affect the psyche of any group of people, while creating psychological scars that are not easily mended.

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, in 2014, serious degrees of mental illness were found less commonly in Black adults than in White and Hispanic adults, and adults of two or more races. These data beg the question —is mental illness truly less prevalent in Black communities, or are black people simply less likely to get help, possibly due to lack of resources, and/or lack of knowledge?

With the widespread disparaging attitude regarding mental illness within Black communities, partially due to the deeply rooted religious ideologies of many black families, and the shame that many Black mental health patients face, it is unsurprising that the National Institute of Mental Health found that Black people are less likely to utilize mental health services, prescription drugs that treat mental illness, and outpatient mental health services, than White adults, and Native American adults, and adults of two or more races.

Black people in America have suffered unimaginably, oftentimes with little to no treatment/counseling for healing, nor education on mental health; therefore, the “just push through,” “shake it off,” or equating mental illness to being “crazy” is not a surprise. Still, it is unhealthy, and a disservice to Black people, particularly those who refuse treatment for their mental illnesses out of fear of being labeled and ostracized.

The inattention to mental health is especially common for Black men, as the widespread disregard for mental health in the Black community as a whole is coupled with widespread toxic masculinity instilled in Black men, typically beginning very early in childhood. As a young Black man that attends an institution of higher education — specifically for Black men — and has witnessed black men and women struggle with mental illness, it is clear that something must be done to overhaul our perspective on mental illness and how we approach it.

I had the distinct pleasure of speaking with a Morehouse alumnus who sits as the Assistant Vice President for Student Development and the Director for Counseling and Disability Services at Morehouse College, Dr. Gary Talib Wright. Dr. Wright conveys that the state of Black men and mental health has “gotten worse,” as “incidence of successful suicide among Black men is going up at a rate higher than any other group.” He continues to explain that “although we are still committing suicide at a rate lower than White men and women, our rate of suicide is increasing more rapidly.”

As we continue our discussion, Dr. Wright brings up a point that is rarely considered. He states that particularly in the criminal justice system, “[African-American men] are not often identified as people that have mental health issues. And, more importantly we are not often identified as people worthy of treatment for our mental health.”

During his time working in the juvenile justice system, he observed that while White youth were often diagnosed with mental illnesses such as depression and bipolar disorder, Black youth were diagnosed with “conduct disorder.” He shares that, “oftentimes when black men have mental health issues, it is written off as ‘they are just bad seeds.’ It is the behavior that is focused on versus where the behavior is coming from.”

Dr. Wright continues, “addressing the ways that stigma and spirituality in the Black family and community, lack of mental health resources and facilities in close proximity to Black communities, historical trauma and stress brought on by police brutality and the prison-industrial complex are all contributors to the current state of

Black men and mental health.

MarTáze Gaines, a junior Psychology major from Baltimore, Maryland, functions as Chair of the Political Action Branch of the Morehouse Chapter of the NAACP, is a member of AUCSHUTITDOWN, and serves in the Morehouse College Glee Club witnessed battles with mental illness first hand and battled depression since an early age. MarTáze views the intersection of Black men and mental health as “not a very loving relationship” regarding the “confining boxes of masculinity, which don’t allow men to address and handle their emotions in a healthy manner.” He believes in order to battle mental health more effectively as Black men, we must “tackle it head on” and “normalize dealing with our emotions…, normalize getting help…, and make help more accessible and affordable.”

Jalen Parker, a junior political science major from Columbus, Mississippi, who serves as a member and mentor for the Morehouse-Spelman Pre-law Society Executive Board and LYTEhouse, respectively, expresses a similar sentiment. Parker acknowledges that the “stress of school, socializing, and managing expectations” contributed to his bouts with depression since his arrival at Morehouse. He went on to say, “I don’t believe that mental health is stressed enough in the Black community. Men are expected to be strong and admitting that you have a problem is viewed as weakness. We are told not to show emotion — to bottle it up because this is the way a real man is supposed to be.” When asked about possible solutions for urgent problems facing Black men and the entire Black community, he cited three areas: education regarding what mental illness is, acceptance, and a welcoming space for emotional expression.

Mental illness is not a new phenomenon. The stresses that we face in this country, along with our genetic predisposition to mental conditions like post-traumatic stress disorder, make this issue an urgent matter for Black men. Although it undoubtedly requires that we change our mentality surrounding mental health, the benefits of our efforts to make this change has the potential to save countless lives.

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“Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over.

And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land!”

These words were spoken by Martin Luther King Jr. ’47 , during his famous 1968 speech, “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop.” Many regard this speech to not only be his last words, but a eulogy as well. While a great leader was unjustly taken from us, and we were heartbroken by this, ultimately, we were not totally shocked. Due to the fact his life was nearly taken many times before this, we were comforted by the last words he left to us during this iconic speech. When loved ones are lost, comfort can often be found in the words purposefully left behind, as is the case with Martin Luther King. But comfort for families of police brutality victims, is often never found.

With technological advancements of the 21st century, we are able to have a never be-

fore seen, firsthand look at the devastation that police brutality causes to families and communities across the globe. So although the technology available allows us to see the injustices being committed, it does not leave the loved ones of the victim with any comfort or closure. With police brutality becoming more visible, black people just going about their daily lives are feeling the threat of violence and death. This looming cloud terror has led these thirty individuals to leave last words to their family. With the knowledge of how families are affected by the systematic extrajudicial killings of black people, these men do not want their families to be forever grieving if they were to become a victim of police violence.

When loved ones are lost, comfort can often be found in the words purposefully left behind With police brutality becoming more visible, Black folks who casually go about their daily lives feel the threat of violence and death. This looming cloud of terror inspired thirty individuals to leave words to their family, as if tomorrow was their last day.

By: Nicholas Clemmons 38

Photography By: Jayson Overby

Thank you everyone who impacted my life.

Christian Campbell 19-years-old Chicago, IL Don’t let my name go in vain. I’m not who they portray me as, let the truth reign.

Austyn Wyche 19-years-old Chicago, IL Love conquers all. Even when I was pushed down, I stood tall. To my family, I love you.

Lennard Long 19-years-old Washington, D.C. I love my family and friends. Thanks for being there for me.

Michael Thrasher 19-years-old Atlanta, GA I left my mark, and lived my purpose.

Find your purpose, and live your life to the fullest. #weallmatter Martravious Little 21-years-old Macon, GA I tried to live my life as human as possible.

Henry Small 21-years-old Capitol Heights, MD O, taste and see that the Lord is good. I blessed is the man who puts his trust in him.

John J. Burns 19-years-old New Rochelle, NY Please do me a favor and live your lives to the fullest and forgive this cop. P.S. I love you all.

Trey Burris 19-years-old Lynn, MA I didn’t want to be remembered as another “Trayvon”, I wanted to be remembered as Colonel Bish in the Marine Corps. But I’ll settle for the first if it means there can be another Colonel, and less Trayvon’s.

Collin Bish 18-years-old Virginia Beach, VA

I wish I could tell my parents that I love them one more time. My heart hurts having to leave them and my best friend.

Remember me as a Marine Officer that loved his country and did his part in ensuring its safety. Police violence needs to stop and soon. I wanted to die in the fleet protecting my country or of old age, not murdered in the country I fought to protect and serve.

Tyler Moore 20-years-old Stuttgart, Germany and Jacksonville, NC I am neither a pariah nor a paragon.

Malik Brown 20-years-old Yemassee, SC I pray justice is served.

Diego 22-years-old Westchester, NY Lord, I forgive em.

Darquise Brashers 21-years-old Atlanta, GA I got kids.

Tyrelle L. 21-years-old Washington, D.C. Love you mom and Adrienne.

Torre Williams 24-years-old Oakland, CA “Allah u Akbar” (Allah is greater) Alexander 20-years-old Charlotte, NC I’m human not an animal.

Ryan 22-years-old Atlanta, GA If I know anything, I know that people deserve life, not because of the Declaration of Independence, but because we were put here to prosper.

Matthew L. Garrett 24-years-old Raleigh, NC We accept what we believe we deserve.

Shaquille O. Lampley 22-years-old Biloxi, MS

Learn from experience. Educate yourself and others on how to co-exist. Pray for your enemies the same way you do for your loved ones. Those that want to change will. Those who don’t will have to face God, eventually.

Charles Edwards 21-years-old Fredericksburg, VA Value life and love others.

Matthew Mena 21-years-old Los Angeles, CA Modern genocide to bring extinction of oppressed.

Ernest Turner 21-years-old Tracy, CA Make my aim TRUE and POWERFUL. George French 21-years-old Birmingham, AL I did nothing wrong, but neither did Jesus. As he said so shall I, “Lord forgive me for they know not what they do.

Sean Johnson 18-years-old Chicago, IL I love you mom and just want to thank you for all the sacrifices you have made.

Anonymous 21-years-old Charlotte, NC Education nor a suit and tie will save you.

Jamahri 22-years-old Savannah, GA Look at everything! I did everything that I could, complying helped little.

Kevin Colclough 21-years-old Brooklyn, NY I hope I won’t be forgotten like my brothers and sisters who died before me.

Eugene 21-years-old Baltimore, MD After all I have done, after all my work, this is the result…

Anonymous 22-years-old New York, NY 39

.79295°N 81.32965°W 33.6512° N 90.2093° 479083°N 81.752365°W 39.12322°N 84.51319°W °28′05″N 91°08′22″W °12’22.1”N 95°57’34.6”W .2904° N, 76.6122° W 40.7027° N, 73.7890° W °49′04.7″N 87°43′26.4″W

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