Who, Me?

— Brenda Weathers Hargroves

A child of the 60s, I grew up in Englewood, New Jersey. The town’s lines of demarcation focused on the ward you lived in rather than ethnic identity. Blacks and Whites assimilated with little to no friction within their wards.

My father was an integrationist. I remember we held classes in our basement during the 1960s school boycotts. Yet, it was not until late adulthood that I truly felt the “Black Experience” up close.

I attended Douglass College, which at the time was an all-girls school with a predominantly White student population. Although I received a full scholarship, it was based on having a disability, not because of Affirmative Action. And while my closest friends were Black, I got along with all of my peers.

After graduation, I remained in the NY/NJ area for many years and made both Black and White friends along the way. My corporate and academic career experiences were similar, working, learning and advancing in racially mixed settings. When I moved to Florida, northern and southern differences seemed more cultural than anything else – until two guys in a pickup truck called me a nigger!

My confrontation with those two rednecks happened years before the Black Lives Matter movement, but it caused me to wonder if I had been a fraud up to that time. Should I have been more aware earlier in life of the racial injustices Black people have endured? And more vocal in my reactions to these biases?

That incident made me realize how out-of-touch I had been. I’ve always known about the plight Black people suffer in this country, but all of my awareness was from an on-the-outskirts position.

So, for what it’s worth, these are my current thoughts on the subject.

I once had a conversation with a White woman about slavery. Her point was not to excuse slavery, but to say that the average White person doesn’t fully understand its extent and intent. To her credit, I understand and believe her observation. I honestly think many of us, regardless of race, are truly unaware of how deep-rooted and ingrained slavery is in our world historically and today. And the implications are both subtle and not-so-subtle.

For example, formal policing development began with slave patrols in the southern United States. Wikipedia defines slave patrols, or paddy rollers, as “organized groups of armed men who monitored and enforced discipline upon slaves in the antebellum U.S. southern states.” And later adds, “The development of slave patrols began when other means of slave control failed to quell enslaved people’s resistance.”

Bo Ajala’s Modern Slave Patrols; The History of Policing notes, “The privilege of receiving the ‘protect and serve’ benefit largely depended on what color the person was, very similar to how it is administered today.”

What a logical explanation of why, throughout history, police officers so often display blatantly racist tactics when dealing with Black people. Many believe we simply don’t deserve to be protected and served. And worse, we are now seeing examples of Black police officers intentionally killing other Blacks.

As I watch this constant mistreatment unfold, I cannot help but speculate about how many of our country’s families inherently uphold this cultural heritage. I wonder how many people, whatever color, are aware of the established origins of police mentality. And let’s not fool ourselves. It’s not just the police. Racism, one of our country’s systematically ingrained traditions, is alive and well in every aspect of life.

Here are a few valid examples.

Owning a home has always been a way to build a legacy, yet Blacks have been discriminated against as early as the 1930s through tactics such as redlining. Although measures have been taken such as the Fair Housing Act first enacted in the 1960s, today’s practice of lowering the home appraisal amount of properties owned by Blacks is a more subtle act of bias.

Families of color make up a higher percentage of low-income households than White families. It has long been the government’s practice to allot lesser amounts of city improvement funding for areas primarily populated by low-income households. And let’s not forget, funding for schools largely depends on revenue from taxes. Low-income areas collect fewer taxes; therefore, their schools receive less funding. What does that say about the quality of education children who live in these areas receive?

People of color automatically follow an unwritten manual when interacting with not only the police but also with White folks in general. Several articles have been written revealing the measures Blacks take when placed in certain situations.

I even read an exposé detailing how racism is subtly reflected in popular music. People of color are also subject to higher percentages of certain health conditions. A friend of mine aptly put it, “I don’t doubt that high blood pressure is an underlying factor of being Black in America.”

The list goes on.

What are Black people supposed to do about this? Should we be reflective? Should we be proactive? Get mad or forgive? Or should we become somber and thankful things aren’t as overt as they used to be? Is it our responsibility to continue to force change or enjoy peace as we experience it? It’s up to each of us to determine how we dissent and how we support people who call out what’s happening now and what happened to our ancestors.

I’ve always been one to work behind the scenes. My dissent is quiet yet with purpose. Because I believe in educating and uplifting future generations, I started a nonprofit that mentored youth and provided scholarships for post-secondary certification. We targeted students with average grades from low-income families. And for many years, I’ve written funding proposals for other local nonprofits that serve youth and economically struggling families.

Expressions like ‘fighting childhood cancer one child at a time’ always saddened me. They characterize success as a daunting task. Sadly, breaking down racism’s building blocks one at a time is probably the only recourse we have to fight this instilled way of life. All we can do is hope our efforts will eventually make a difference.

Brenda W. Hargroves is an author, entrepreneur, personal finance coach and consultant. A graduate of Douglass College in New Brunswick, NJ, she started two successful small businesses, one of which produced annual sales of over $1,000,000 in less than three years. Brenda has served as Executive Director of the Sherman Hargroves Educational Support Fund, launched in1998 in memory of her late husband and based in New Jersey and We’re Here To Help based in Tampa, Florida, opened in 2011. These grass-roots organizations provided scholarships and mentoring to underestimated students with average grades from low-income households. Brenda’s current blog, #LitBizLife’, found on her website, is an encouraging open letter to like-minded self-starters who are ready to master managing their financial and career goals. Brenda’s 2006 self-published book, The Heart and Soul of Entrepreneurship, remains a practical business guide for the budding business owner. Several of Brenda’s short stories have been published in literary journals. When not working on her blog or writing short stories, she is likely at her desk chasing that ever-elusive bestselling novel.