WHO WE ARE: COLVIN GEORGES
Sons
“We must honor our ancestors by immersing ourselves in deep literature, respecting and loving one another, challenging dominant narratives, and using tools that we create to dismantle white supremacy.”
Q: What does being a son mean to you in 2020?
A: Emptiness and a search for love, hope, and belonging. I have always wanted to feel a sense of belonging to family, more specifically – my father. This is a challenge for me in 2020 because my father is deceased. Alongside my mother, my father gave me life. The man who, every time I look in the mirror – I see him staring back at me, from my bone structure, to my eyebrows, to my ears, to my lower jaw.
I grew to love these features over time. I can still hear the sound of his low yet deep voice calling, asking me how I was doing? Am I working out in the gym? Have I found a girlfriend? These topics always centered our conversations because he tried his best to pierce through my seemingly tough yet sensitive exterior. Now, in 2020 – I feel lost without him.
As I navigate the social ills of 2020 as his male seed - racism, white supremacy, and the murder of Black boys and men at the hand of law enforcement officers affect every aspect of my intersecting identities. I have no path of his to follow. No blueprint that I can easily read in hopes of finding the answers to self-liberation. I do not understand how to move through this dual pandemic of COVID-19 and racism without him. I do not fully know his story and lived experiences because he was taken away from me too soon because of the same fucked up system dominated by whiteness and systematic racism.
From his perspective, I will never know how he lived to 41 years of life, how he navigated and made sense of the racial and structural injustices that affected his very being as a Black man. I will never know why he decided to join the police force. Did he believe that he could make a difference within society? These are all questions that I desperately seek answers for in 2020. Being his son and the heir to his thrown – I am hurting and in need of his love and physical presence. In 2020, the meaning of son is emptiness and a never-ending search for belonging. One day, I hope to see him again, and we will laugh and cry together at all of the things that made us who we were, including the experiences that shaped our decisions and guided us through life.
I miss you, Daddy.
Q: How have the injustices against the Black community impacted your view of family?
A: As I reflect on the injustices against the Black community and how this has impacted my view of family – I must begin by providing my definition of family. Family members are not people necessarily sharing the same DNA. They can include colleagues, friends, and even fellow members from particular organizations sharing a passion for similar causes, e.g., activists within the Black Lives Matter Global Network fighting for racial equality. The injustices against the Black community have taught me that we get to choose who our family members are.
Family is individuals that love one another and stand beside you when tough decisions need to be made, the next chapter of life is about to begin, and you need support during troubling times. Even if these people do not share similar social identities, e.g., gender, sexual orientation, or class, they uplift you and use their privilege to ensure that you are being treated equally and with respect by all of society. Bell hooks (2001) asserted, “to truly love, we must learn to mix various ingredients – care, affection, recognition, respect, commitment, and trust, as well as honest and open communication” (p. 5). When hooks (2001) explained the ingredients for love, I thought about the people I love – my family. More specifically, I thought about my mother, a strong Black woman.
My mother is a strong Black woman who made innumerable sacrifices for her family as far back as I can remember - someone who instilled Caribbean values in me and taught me how to be resilient amid times of adversity. However, even with my mothers’ sacrifices, white America still views her and other Black women as inferior. Critical Race Scholar, Derrick Bell (1993) describes this community and other minoritized folks in the title of his novel, “Faces at the Bottom of the Well.” The injustices against the Black community have reshaped how I view my mother – a human that is not perfect, yet strong and resilient. My mother has always found a way to ensure that I had everything I needed to be where I am today. However, even with the love and admiration that I have for my mother – society has impacted my view of her by unveiling the structural inequities that exist, limiting her ability to achieve equity in a system dominated by whiteness, sexism, and patriarchy.
For centuries, Black women have taken care of and raised Black and white children. To this day, they are still viewed as how Malcolm X affirmed, “the most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.” Black women are the core of Black families, and even with the chanting of “Black Lives Matter!” – arguably, there is a belief that the Black lives that this chant refers to and the lives that truly matter are Black men.
When George Floyd was murdered at the hand of law enforcement, the entire world showed up for him and called out this act of injustice. The streets were filled with marches and protests. Social media profile pictures turned Black as an act of resistance against police brutality and racial injustice. Just two months prior, when Breonna Taylor was murdered at the hand of law enforcement, the national discourse and media attention given to her did not equate to what George Floyd received. It is important to note that systemic racism is the root and underlying cause for both Breonna Taylor and George Floyd not being alive today. However, this does not excuse the fact that Black women are still treated unequally to every other racial and gender group in 2020. Sadly, my mother could be Breonna Taylor, and because of this thought process – I must protect her at all costs.
Black women, Black mothers, are the backbone of the Black family. They have raised Black boys to become Black men. And the most hurtful part of this is that those same Black boys grow up to become the very men who oppress Black women even further and not show up when needed. My view of the Black family will always center on Black women and their experiences. Their struggles are a direct reflection of Black communities today.
Q: How do you feel being a Black man in the world today?
A: Afraid. I am afraid that each time I walk outside my home, I will never return. I fear that if I walk into a grocery store wearing an all-black hoodie with my hands in my pockets, then a white person will believe that I am carrying a gun and scream, “that nigger has a gun!” thus police being called and shooting me in the chest.
As I am walking my dog in my neighborhood, I fear that I will be shot by a bullet belonging to a group of white supremacists – in their convoluted attempt to “make America great again.” The irony here is – when has America ever been great? The time when Africans were kidnapped from their homes and brought to America for 246 years of slavery? Or the time when white Europeans murdered native Americans as they seized control of their land?
I fear that I will be another victim of hate and police brutality on the news – where CNN would describe me as someone who was going somewhere in life. They would list my credentials, particularly my academic credentials, in an attempt to humanize me so that white America could see that I was not someone who they would depict as a “thug.” Often, white America uses Black people’s successes as weapons for tokenism as the model minority victim.
I can see my mother crying because she lost her one and only son. I feel as though at any moment, I could be another Oscar Grant, III, or Michael Brown, Jr. or Trayvon Martin, or Ahmaud Aubrey, or Tamir Rice, or Eric Garner, or Alton Sterling, or George Floyd. I am afraid that I will never get a chance to experience fatherhood. To this end, this is how I feel being a Black man in the world today.
Q: What would you say to other Black sons?
A: To other Black sons with Black parents, I say to forgive. Your parents are imperfect beings and could only raise you using the resources and knowledge they had. Our parents operated in a system that was never built to support and protect their children, more specifically, you. They had to figure out the best and most effective way to keep you safe and protected from the harsh realities and consequences of systemic racism as long as they could so you could live to see tomorrow.
They lived through times of racial injustice and witnessed Black bodies abused at the hand of white people. Their experiences are just as valuable as yours, even though it was a different time. If you can, please sit down with your parents and grandparents and learn about their lived experiences.
Ask them questions such as:
1. What was life like growing up as a Black child in America or your respective place of origin?
2. How did you make sense of and navigate society’s social ills, e.g., racism, sexism, classism, etc.?
3. What dreams and ambitions did you have as a child and young adult? Can you describe the systemic barriers that existed?
4. Can you describe what brought you joy? What about fear?
5. What is your advice for me as a Black son traversing 2020?
We must listen to our parents, especially if there is still breath in their body. As previously mentioned, our parents are imperfect beings. I understand that we may get angry and frustrated at our parents at times, but we must remember that they are only human. We must not forget where to focus our energy – at deconstructing and dismantling systems dominated by whiteness. We must fight for justice and equality. If we do not, there is no telling what our Black sons, daughters, and those that are gender non-conforming will experience when they become consciously aware of the sins and historical aggressions made by white America. We must all come together and organize for a greater purpose. In 2018, the late congressman, John Lewis (2018) said,
“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”
We must be unafraid and unapologetic in the struggle for change. Let us continue to rely on and support one another through these times of adversity. Our ancestors did the same, and we must continue to follow their path, creating new tools and frameworks to dismantle the master’s house – until then, we will always at the bottom of society.
Q: Are there any additional thoughts or comments that you would like to add?
A: Read! Read! Read! During the slavery era, Black people were restricted from being able to read and attend schools. Our ancestors fought for us to be where we are today and have unlimited access to their stories, and other lived experiences. We must honor our ancestors by immersing ourselves in deep literature, respecting and loving one another, challenging dominant narratives, and using tools that we create to dismantle white supremacy. Wake up Black brothers and sisters – this is not the time to remain silent and expect other generations to fight on our behalf. We must use our bodies and minds to reimagine a truly equal society and values our very being. We cannot take a liberal stance and wait for change to happen gradually; we must act now.