Friday, November 22, 2013

How many times have you used the n-word?

Photo taken from www.Foxsearchlight.com/12YearsASlave


By Will Brown


It started when I was in high school. I was overweight, unpopular and a bit of a social misfit. Some of my teammates on the football team used the word, so I started copying them.

The more I used it, the more comfortable it became. My rationale at the time was I was saying “-a” instead of “-er.” Attending, and graduating from a Historically Black College, may have expanded my awareness as an African-American, but, it didn’t stop me from using the n-word when I knew white people weren’t around.

In hindsight I was ignorant to use the n-word.

In some ways calling it the n-word takes away some of the word’s sting
.
The word is nigger. If seeing or hearing the word nigger does not jar, unnerve or impact you then there is plenty of media out there to jolt your consciousness. One that tingled mine was the recently released movie “12 Years A Slave.”

Chiwetel Ejiofor’s role as the film’s protagonist was riveting. The content, language, violence and culture displayed in the film were certainly not sanitized. Still, what struck me most was just how comfortably people were called nigger in 19th century America.

It’s one thing to read about our peculiar institution. It is dramatically different to hear the word said hundreds of times in a film without the movie losing a shred of credibility. The film was so evocative I overheard a few people in the theater audibly wince during some of the scenes and exclaim their incredulity at America’s slavery system.

Midway through the 133-minute movie I told myself I would work on not saying the n-word anymore.

My usage has dwindled since college, but not to the point where I don’t occasionally succumb to using the word, or saying “ninjas” and “negro” in its place. But the reality is it should not take a movie for me to know and do better.

My father was an Army officer before and during the Civil Rights Era. My mother, who grew up during the Civil Rights Era, subtly and overtly campaigned for justice from her community. One of the few similarities my parents have nearly two decades after their ugly separation is that neither has, and neither does, use the n-word.

I am someone who cried while watching a movie about the Little Rock Nine in fourth grade, read plenty of books about 19th century America, paid more attention in history class than just about any other, sat through Eyes on the Prize with my parents, was forced to look up the world nigger in the dictionary when I was in elementary school to get an understanding of it. To top it all off, I graduated from a HBCU. Yet, none of that made me rethink my usage of the poisonous word more than watching a film based on an 1853 book that was written by a man largely forgotten in history.

That those personal facts were not enough to dissuade me from using the n-word is just as embarrassing to me as the culture that initially added that word to American English.

Let’s not mince words, America’s greatest shame is how it treated Africans and their descendants. Certainly, there have been other embarrassments; however, little compares to considering humans chattel.

Nigger is a word that should serve as a reminder just how dark our history is.

No whitewashing, sanitizing and 21st century political correctness can change what happened in the past. It’s also a reminder that what was put in the history books was not completely accurate.  (Speaking of historical accuracy, there is a certain scene in “12 Years A Slave” that should remind you of America’s third president — the same man who wrote the Declaration of Independence.)

Most of us know the line in the Declaration of Independence about holding truths to be self-evident and that all men were created equal. Most of us also know that in America, those ideals are sometimes not worth the paper they were written on.

The Declaration of Independence also states “all experience hath shown (sic), that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.”

For years I was comfortable with using the n-word. As little evil as I would like to think I committed by using a word I picked up playing high school football, it’s certainly time I abolish it from my vocabulary.

Laughs and liveliness

-Wb

Friday, November 15, 2013

Who needs birthday cake?

I spent part of my 29th birthday at a trampoline facility trying to escape
from a foam pit. (Photo by Whitney Murray Brown)



By Will Brown

The morning began with a text from someone from Texas (Nov. 17) who I didn’t expect to hear from. It came in at 8:35 a.m. and it woke me from a dream that wasn’t worth remembering.

The message set off a day where my aim was to remain low key. Celebrations, dinner parties, birthday cakes and everything else will be back for next year’s 30th birthday. But, as I entered the last year of my 20s, my goal for Wednesday was to treat it like any other November day.

Dipping temperatures and swirling winds were nature’s way of letting me know it was Nov. 13. Additional texts from (Aug. 1) (Aug. 3), (Nov. 13) and (Aug. 21) further reminded me.

Like clockwork, I was on the phone with my mom (Jan 9) at 11:13 a.m. This year, she called me at 11:12 because she was unsure that modern technology would connect us at exactly the time I was born. (It’s an annual tradition for her to call me at 11:13 a.m. because that was when I was born.)

My cousin (May 20) and his wife (July 31) wanted to check out a local eatery that has been a staple of the Jacksonville for decades. We decided to check it out before they left for life in South Florida later in the week.

Metro Diner has a lot of good dishes, but I can only vouch for the chicken and waffles. Wednesday was probably the fifth time I’ve eaten there and the fifth time I ordered the chicken and waffles. My only disappointment was I couldn’t finish my meal.

My newest parents (May 18) and (Feb. 10) like to razz me about being on social media all the time.  After Wednesday’s great meal with great friends, I posted a picture on Instagram about where we enjoyed our brunch. As soon as the picture hit social media my Birthday Buddy (Nov. 13), a great friend from our church in Texas (Dec. 24), and old friend (Nov. 2) and a former colleague of mine (Aug. 31) liked the photo.

As the afternoon wore on and I received more texts (July 17), (Oct. 31) and (July 26) as well as calls from (Jan. 7), (Nov. 6), (Oct. 8) and (Apr. 15) I started to feel a bit ashamed for not remembering to call/contact/send a card on people’s birthdays. The person who brought out the guilt (Nov. 18) is someone I haven’t spoken with in months for no reason other than the fact we don’t have much to discuss.

Rather than let the nostalgia consume me, Whitney (June 27) and I went to help my cousin and his family move. To others, packing up a 4,200 square foot house may not have been an ideal way to celebrate one’s birthday. To me, it was a great opportunity to spend time with family and not be self-absorbed.

No matter how much I tried to deflect the attention away from myself Wednesday my wife, my cousin, his wife and their daughter (Oct. 24) convinced me to check out an indoor trampoline arena. It’s probably not the smartest idea to go to a trampoline facility without health insurance, but that’s what we did.

Within 20 minutes of four adults, of which I was the oldest, bouncing around a 24,000 square foot facility that smelled like paint thinner there was an injury. Apparently, (July 31) was running, fell awkwardly and turned her ankle.

Before we knew it, she was provided ice, placed in a wheelchair, given an incident report to sign, handed rain checks and encouraged to take the back door — away from other customers. The incident, and our ability to joke about it once we found out (July 31) didn’t have a broken ankle, was further proof all four of us have a few more sophomoric stunts in us.

More calls, texts and conversations ensued. One of the funniest was with my 83-year old father (Feb. 11) who forgot about my birthday.  

Rather than eat a nice dinner we ate pizza among the moving boxes at my cousin’s house. (July 31) joked that next year we’re having a candlelight dinner and doing nothing that requires any athleticism, running or trampolines. Choosing the fellowship meant I didn’t get to go out to dinner. Instead I got a lot of laughs, a text from (Nov. 10) and a call from (July 11) and an apology sent to (Nov. 17).

The day ended at 12:15 a.m. when I found a card from my parents laying on my computer: “Son, There is no way we could ever tell you how much we love you, how much pride we have in you and the wonderful things you do…” Somehow the heartfelt card from (May 18) and (Feb. 10) encapsulated Wednesday — understated, but very appreciated.

Laughs and liveliness,


-Wb

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Can you sense when someone has made an impact on you?

The Florida School for the Deaf and Blind's reaction after
being told they are the 2013 Deaf National Champions. (Photo by Will Brown.)

By Will Brown

I received a text Saturday morning asking whether I was interested in covering a football game. 

My first thought was to say no. I was tired and the fact I was asked to cover the Florida School for the Deaf and Blind unnerved me. I had nothing against the players or the fans, my concern was my ignorance would lead me to accidentally offending someone.

Thankfully, I didn’t turn down the assignment. A win for the FSDB over California School for the Deaf-Fremont meant the home team would be the deaf national champions for the third time in school history.


When the home team intercepted a pass with no time remaining to seal the win, the crowd was just as loud, rowdy, raucous and celebratory as any other that I’ve witnessed in my life. Someone had the spectacular idea to bring confetti so that was flying through the air long with the cheers when it was all over.
In the four hours I spent observing and reporting the game, I learned more about the deaf community than I had in my life.

The first thing was not every player is completely deaf. Some are deaf, but others are hearing-impaired.

There was also a visually impaired player on the field for the Dragons. With a smile the FSDB president told me they keep it pretty simple for the offensive lineman who is visually impaired. They tell him who to block, and that person remains blocked — no questions asked.

I was the one with a lot of questions during the game.  Most of them were answered by the affable public address announcer.

When the PA announcer was not calling the game, giving shout outs to the families of players who traveled to St. Augustine for the game and playing music he was giving me the low down on the school, certain players, and why a win on Alumni Weekend would mean so much. It turns out the PA announcer is the boys basketball coach. He didn’t say how long he’s been on the microphone, but the ease in which he kept things going indicated he was no novice.

FSDB ended the 2013 season, its 100th playing varsity football, with an 8-1 record. The California school finished the season 5-5.

Players and coaches at the Florida School for the
Deaf and Blind pause to take a post game picture
after a 44-31 win to claim the Deaf National
Championship. (Photo by Will Brown.)
Both teams had good athletes. They just didn’t have a lot of them, which is to be expected at small schools. Would some of the boys I saw on the field star at your local powerhouse? No. Would they have played at most schools? Definitely.

About 90 percent of high schools could use a kid who runs great routes at wide receiver and doubles as a reliable placekicker, as the California school had. Most high school coaches would salivate if they had a 6-foot-3-inch quarterback, with good speed, who knows how to run the option, as the Florida school did.

As the day wore on, I began to appreciate the smaller things.

  • On most assignments I quickly search the colors of the schools I’m covering and look to wear something that clashes—lest I be accused of favoritism. Saturday, I didn’t bother to do the research. It turned out the red polo shirt and royal blue T-shirt I wore to the game are FSDB’s colors. And not a single person cared. If anything it made people less defensive when I asked my many questions.
  •    When I went to walk across the track, onto the field after the game, I tripped over a rail on the inside line. At first I thought why was that rail there? Then I remembered that there is probably a young boy or girl who is visually impaired who runs track. The rail keeps them from running off the inside lane and into the grass.
  • After the game I wanted to speak to players and coaches. My usual method of walking up to them and asking for an interview likely wasn’t going to work since I didn’t know a lick of sign language. After one player put his hand to his ear to explain he couldn’t hear me, a woman named Sue Hall was kind enough to translate for me.
  • During the biggest plays of the game, the FSDB supporters were blaring drums, standing on their feet and recording the moment on their smartphones and tablets just like any other fans in Northeast Florida.
  • The school has televised every home football game via a live stream. By the end of the game, more than 200 different computers were logged on to watch the thrilling conclusion.
  • When students were trying to cuddle up during the game they left a little more space between them than their peers. (The extra space was used so both the boy and the girl could sign with each other.)

Every boy I interviewed was so happy afterward he gave me a hug. The combination of the ecstasy of victory and the thrill of having their name in the newspaper was enough to cue the spontaneous embrace.

When everything was over, and I was walking toward the track — this time more careful to avoid the rail — I left with a new perspective. As happy as the players were to see their accomplishment highlighted in the paper, I was just as appreciative they taught me a lesson in life.

Laughs and liveliness,


-Wb