Black Americans have built their collective around a history of pain and suffering, a misery that a significant portion of the black population have never directly experienced. A part of the reason for the collective mentality stems from being a libations people. Some blacks in America have continued some semblance of the practice of commemorating the ancestors. All groups have some degree of reverence for the elders but I find that blacks in particular take the reverence to another level. Take for example John Lewis, the representative to Congress from Georgia’s 5th district. Mr Lewis, who has served in the U.S. House of Representatives since 1987, rarely fails to remind us of his experiences marching with Dr Martin Luther King. For black Americans to turn Mr Lewis out of office would be sacrilege even though his effective over the years is highly questionable. As a messenger who reminds black Americans of pain and suffering, Mr Lewis is one of many architects of the narrative of a black community.
I have argued before that blacks do not have a community. At the risk of sounding like a fan of “trap music”, the poor and middle-income strata of blacks live in a mental, spiritual, political and economic ghetto where payday lenders, pawn shops, and tax preparers offering advances on internal revenue refunds make up the population’s financial district. Ride on MARTA in Atlanta and you observe that mobile broadband is the low cost digital source of entertainment for blacks in this income bracket. Over-indexed on both mobile broadband and social media, Facebook and Twitter are the databases and noise exchange platforms for the population.
Philosophically, Black Americans view the real world as a hostile place driven by ever present racism and a slave history that white Americans have not yet reconciled with their current privilege. Since this attack is directed at people with dark skin who can trace their lineage to Africa, most reactions from the black population comes from a collectivist albeit not entirely monolithic place. Blacks feel trapped; they feel under siege.
Notice that I have been using “population” more than the typical word, “community.” Blacks do not have a community. Many view community as a social term. The social taint of the word is secondary. Community is an economic term with the accompanying social ordering of its members based on their contribution to the extraction, organization, and distribution of resources. At the base of a mining community is a mine and surrounding that mine is an ordering of human resources organized in such a way where you recognize leaders and followers; where you can identify where political and economic power is deployed and which classes are exercising what levels and amounts of that power.
It is the social orderings stemming from political and economic power that serve as platforms for a group’s culture, for the groups values as transmitted by the group’s leaders. I don’t see that in the black population.
Didn’t see it in Canarsie or Crown Heights. I haven’t seen it in West End Atlanta. I haven’t seen it in Baltimore. I haven’t seen it in Charlotte Amalie. I saw populations of black people employed by non-blacks who actually owned the “vibranium.” I don’t see a community.
This lack of community along with the lack of values spawned from political and economic decision- making means, in my opinion, less of a barrier to pursuing individual self-interests. Claims of community are empty for the black population where so-called community leaders and leading politicians have not been able to make heads or tails out of the centuries old relegation of blacks to the bottom of the political and economic totem pole. This major flaw in the community narrative is the cue for more blacks to “go their own way”, getting away from the false premise that skin color and pain throughout history should be enough to sustain monolithic thinking and poor political and economic gains.