I was born and raised in inner city San Francisco, California, U.S. My childhood was dominated by all the trappings of inner-city life. My parents did their best (may each of them rest in power), but they both spent their lives escaping the traumas of growing up in the legal and racial segregation of Louisiana, U.S.
Although they each valued education, neither of them had strong practical experience with it. Their rebellious spirits of dignity pushed them out of Louisiana and into California as teenagers. As a result, finishing high school, which neither of them did in Louisiana, was the best goal they could envision. My mother didn’t complete her general education requirements for high school until I was 12 years old. My dad never did. Yet both of them worked hard their entire lives and encouraged me to push for something better.
By the time I was 16, I had displayed flashes of intellectual potential, but most of that was buried underneath the trauma of growing up in inner city life. The racist and demoralizing experience of being bused into white neighborhoods from the 7th grade on. Having to be prepared to fight for my life after leaving those neighborhoods much later than the other youth from my neighborhood because I played school sports. And, often having to live up to that defense. Including fighting for my life as a 14 year old against three thirty-something white men who called me the n word so much as they beat me that day that I thought that word was a secret part of my name. That incident landed me in the hospital for three days with a permanent injury to my left eye that continues to this day.
Consequently, I rebelled. Not so much against my parents, but because I felt abused, disrespected, alone, alienated, and unprotected. Academics were not the priority and by the time I realized that I didn’t want to end up lost in the streets, I barely had time to correct my path. In fact, I didn’t know I was going to graduate from high school with my class until three days before graduation. I was standing in line with my girlfriend at the time (who was an honor student, yet extremely supportive). The line was to check out of the school. If you had not met the credit requirements, your name would not be on the list. It was the longest line I ever stood in. With my girlfriend offering words of encouragement the entire time we waited, I finally stepped up to the woman at the table, immediately offering excuses for how my name probably wouldn’t be on the list. I was overwhelmingly surprised when it was. I made it, just barely.
Summertime. What to do with my life. I didn’t know if I could succeed in college, but once I grounded out in my one at bat in the semi-pro baseball tryout, I knew my prospect of becoming a professional athlete were slim to none. I also knew I didn’t want to continue to be in San Francisco. I needed a new start. A recreation of my identity. I asked my mom if I could move in with my aunt in Fresno. My parents were concerned about my staying in San Francisco anyway, so my mother talked to her sister, my aunt, and by August of 1979, I was enrolled at Fresno City College as a freshman.
The almost two years I spent at that community college produced a great deal of growth, emotionally and physically. I learned an awful lot about myself. I took economics and political science courses and learned that I liked doing research and writing analysis papers. I started to excel at something other than sports for the first time in my life. When I started at the community college, I took a sheet that provided all of the general education requirements to transfer to the California State University system. I didn’t have the confidence or desire to speak with a counselor. Authority figures had never helped me do anything before. So, I took that paper and kept it with me for each of those four semesters. I chose my classes carefully based upon the requirements on that paper and when it came time to apply I did, to Cal State University, Sacramento. I had matured quite a bit, being quite active in the Pan-African Student Union. My confidence was beginning to grow. I wanted more.
I was offered a tentative acceptance to Cal State Sacramento. I had a grade point average of 3.10, a vast improvement over the 1.75 grade point average I squeaked by with in high school, but the university wanted evidence that the tuition and board costs could be paid. There was partial athletic money and tuition then was only (believe it or not) $122.00 a semester or $244.00 a year, but that, plus living expenses, food, books, etc., was still going to be a challenge for my parents. They had paid my aunt a small monthly amount for me to live with her in Fresno which I know was a sacrifice for them, but we didn’t know anyone in Sacramento so that option didn’t exist here at the time. I had worked in Fresno, sometimes two jobs at once. So, I knew I would continue that in Sacramento, but I also knew all of that combined, plus general financial aid, wasn’t going to be enough.
There were programs in the Cal State system. One was the Equal Opportunity Program (EOP) and another was Student Affirmative Action (SAA). Those programs offered financial assistance. Someone informed me of those programs and suggested I apply. I found the paperwork and filled it out to the best of my ability. I poured everything I had into writing the required essays describing my aspirations and I submitted the applications and waited. There was no plan B if I didn’t get in. Find a full-time job somewhere, but I didn’t know what skills I had which would translate into a consistent income. I had made a lot of progress with growing my confidence, but I still had overwhelming doubts of what I could do. I needed more time. I needed someone to believe in me.
Both EOP and SAA sent me letter packets. I could read the many comments from multiple people on the review committees for both programs in those packets. They indicated that I had demonstrated my ability to perform academically and that all I apparently needed was financial assistance. I couldn’t have agreed more! Plus, I was extremely encouraged and bolstered by those comments. It was the first time in my life that someone had written down positive words about who I am and what I was capable of. Even my parents never had the capacity to do that.
I was granted maximum financial aid by both programs. They each held orientations at Cal State Sacramento. I will never forget driving into the city, anxious, yet excited, for the first time. After that, they had consistent check ins which were extremely beneficial for me. I never missed an appointment. They were encouraging and uplifting. I had never experienced anything like that from anything institutional, but I also knew these programs weren’t the standard institutional bureaucracies that are a prominent aspect of this capitalist system.
Of course there were challenges, but I thrived as a student activist in the university’s Pan-African Student Union and as a student. I graduated with a strong grade point average. And, after joining the permanent Pan-African political organization that I continue to work tirelessly for today, and raising my daughter, I went back to school in the 90s to achieve my masters in Economics/Political Science. Graduate school, parenting, working full-time, activism. These elements defined for me who I was and who I would continue to be.
The point of all of this is when I look at my life today, I have written and published five books. Working on my 6th presently. I have been an invited workshop presenter all over this country and in other countries in Africa, Europe, Canada, etc. I am an organizer for justice who is widely sought after for advice and guidance. I am a statewide leader for the labor union I have been employed with for over a decade. I am paid handsomely for my expertise at work and otherwise. I am consistently humbled by the number of aspiring youth activists from all nationalities who treat me like I’m some sort of celebrity (which I do my best to deflect).
The bottom line is without those programs, I probably wouldn’t have been able to go to college. And, without that I don’t see how my ability to grow my skills and confidence, to join my organization, which I did in college, would have happened the way that it did. If people respond to that by saying I could have found a way to get in college wthout those programs, you don’t know what you’re talking about. If someone has never driven a vehicle, even if you hand them car keys and point them in the right direction, its most likely still going to be next to impossible for them to navigate that vehicle safely to that destination. Nothing in my childhood prepared me to properly navigate college and the work world, but those programs and my activism prepared me not only for work, but to become the man and human being that I am proud to be today.
So, get out of my face trying to tell me that somebody gave me something because I got financial aid i.e. grants. There’s no way in hell that I would be earning the money I earn today, paying the taxes I pay, without those programs. Whatever financial aid I got, I had paid that back in the 80s. I’ve paid it back 10 times over in taxes. And, the most valuable contribution I’ve made isn’t just money towards taxes. Its the energy I’ve put into people. Energies that I needed when I was young. That’s the contribution I’m most proud of. This would almost certainly not be my reality without those programs. Nobody gave me a damn thing. What those wonderful people did in 1981 is decide to invest in the potential of an inner-city kid and their wise choice has paid off in dividends.
This piece isn’t a pitch for people to support DEI. This country was built on racism, patriarchy, class exploitation, etc. and those things continues to fuel its existence. I don’t see my education, activism, and experience as resources to do anything to further empower this backward society. I do see those things as a vehicle to encourage all peace and justice loving people to believe in our abilities to create the world that we and our future generations deserve. So, if you take anything from this, its that you shouldn’t see your future as one needing validation from any element of this capitalist system. We can fight for the types of programs that helped me as we should, we deserve that and so much more, but the larger picture is those programs came out of our struggle against injustice so don’t let people who know nothing of that struggle define its value. We need to rekindle that spirit of dignity that produced those programs. That’s how we got them and that’s how we can and will get something far more valuable for our future.
Although they each valued education, neither of them had strong practical experience with it. Their rebellious spirits of dignity pushed them out of Louisiana and into California as teenagers. As a result, finishing high school, which neither of them did in Louisiana, was the best goal they could envision. My mother didn’t complete her general education requirements for high school until I was 12 years old. My dad never did. Yet both of them worked hard their entire lives and encouraged me to push for something better.
By the time I was 16, I had displayed flashes of intellectual potential, but most of that was buried underneath the trauma of growing up in inner city life. The racist and demoralizing experience of being bused into white neighborhoods from the 7th grade on. Having to be prepared to fight for my life after leaving those neighborhoods much later than the other youth from my neighborhood because I played school sports. And, often having to live up to that defense. Including fighting for my life as a 14 year old against three thirty-something white men who called me the n word so much as they beat me that day that I thought that word was a secret part of my name. That incident landed me in the hospital for three days with a permanent injury to my left eye that continues to this day.
Consequently, I rebelled. Not so much against my parents, but because I felt abused, disrespected, alone, alienated, and unprotected. Academics were not the priority and by the time I realized that I didn’t want to end up lost in the streets, I barely had time to correct my path. In fact, I didn’t know I was going to graduate from high school with my class until three days before graduation. I was standing in line with my girlfriend at the time (who was an honor student, yet extremely supportive). The line was to check out of the school. If you had not met the credit requirements, your name would not be on the list. It was the longest line I ever stood in. With my girlfriend offering words of encouragement the entire time we waited, I finally stepped up to the woman at the table, immediately offering excuses for how my name probably wouldn’t be on the list. I was overwhelmingly surprised when it was. I made it, just barely.
Summertime. What to do with my life. I didn’t know if I could succeed in college, but once I grounded out in my one at bat in the semi-pro baseball tryout, I knew my prospect of becoming a professional athlete were slim to none. I also knew I didn’t want to continue to be in San Francisco. I needed a new start. A recreation of my identity. I asked my mom if I could move in with my aunt in Fresno. My parents were concerned about my staying in San Francisco anyway, so my mother talked to her sister, my aunt, and by August of 1979, I was enrolled at Fresno City College as a freshman.
The almost two years I spent at that community college produced a great deal of growth, emotionally and physically. I learned an awful lot about myself. I took economics and political science courses and learned that I liked doing research and writing analysis papers. I started to excel at something other than sports for the first time in my life. When I started at the community college, I took a sheet that provided all of the general education requirements to transfer to the California State University system. I didn’t have the confidence or desire to speak with a counselor. Authority figures had never helped me do anything before. So, I took that paper and kept it with me for each of those four semesters. I chose my classes carefully based upon the requirements on that paper and when it came time to apply I did, to Cal State University, Sacramento. I had matured quite a bit, being quite active in the Pan-African Student Union. My confidence was beginning to grow. I wanted more.
I was offered a tentative acceptance to Cal State Sacramento. I had a grade point average of 3.10, a vast improvement over the 1.75 grade point average I squeaked by with in high school, but the university wanted evidence that the tuition and board costs could be paid. There was partial athletic money and tuition then was only (believe it or not) $122.00 a semester or $244.00 a year, but that, plus living expenses, food, books, etc., was still going to be a challenge for my parents. They had paid my aunt a small monthly amount for me to live with her in Fresno which I know was a sacrifice for them, but we didn’t know anyone in Sacramento so that option didn’t exist here at the time. I had worked in Fresno, sometimes two jobs at once. So, I knew I would continue that in Sacramento, but I also knew all of that combined, plus general financial aid, wasn’t going to be enough.
There were programs in the Cal State system. One was the Equal Opportunity Program (EOP) and another was Student Affirmative Action (SAA). Those programs offered financial assistance. Someone informed me of those programs and suggested I apply. I found the paperwork and filled it out to the best of my ability. I poured everything I had into writing the required essays describing my aspirations and I submitted the applications and waited. There was no plan B if I didn’t get in. Find a full-time job somewhere, but I didn’t know what skills I had which would translate into a consistent income. I had made a lot of progress with growing my confidence, but I still had overwhelming doubts of what I could do. I needed more time. I needed someone to believe in me.
Both EOP and SAA sent me letter packets. I could read the many comments from multiple people on the review committees for both programs in those packets. They indicated that I had demonstrated my ability to perform academically and that all I apparently needed was financial assistance. I couldn’t have agreed more! Plus, I was extremely encouraged and bolstered by those comments. It was the first time in my life that someone had written down positive words about who I am and what I was capable of. Even my parents never had the capacity to do that.
I was granted maximum financial aid by both programs. They each held orientations at Cal State Sacramento. I will never forget driving into the city, anxious, yet excited, for the first time. After that, they had consistent check ins which were extremely beneficial for me. I never missed an appointment. They were encouraging and uplifting. I had never experienced anything like that from anything institutional, but I also knew these programs weren’t the standard institutional bureaucracies that are a prominent aspect of this capitalist system.
Of course there were challenges, but I thrived as a student activist in the university’s Pan-African Student Union and as a student. I graduated with a strong grade point average. And, after joining the permanent Pan-African political organization that I continue to work tirelessly for today, and raising my daughter, I went back to school in the 90s to achieve my masters in Economics/Political Science. Graduate school, parenting, working full-time, activism. These elements defined for me who I was and who I would continue to be.
The point of all of this is when I look at my life today, I have written and published five books. Working on my 6th presently. I have been an invited workshop presenter all over this country and in other countries in Africa, Europe, Canada, etc. I am an organizer for justice who is widely sought after for advice and guidance. I am a statewide leader for the labor union I have been employed with for over a decade. I am paid handsomely for my expertise at work and otherwise. I am consistently humbled by the number of aspiring youth activists from all nationalities who treat me like I’m some sort of celebrity (which I do my best to deflect).
The bottom line is without those programs, I probably wouldn’t have been able to go to college. And, without that I don’t see how my ability to grow my skills and confidence, to join my organization, which I did in college, would have happened the way that it did. If people respond to that by saying I could have found a way to get in college wthout those programs, you don’t know what you’re talking about. If someone has never driven a vehicle, even if you hand them car keys and point them in the right direction, its most likely still going to be next to impossible for them to navigate that vehicle safely to that destination. Nothing in my childhood prepared me to properly navigate college and the work world, but those programs and my activism prepared me not only for work, but to become the man and human being that I am proud to be today.
So, get out of my face trying to tell me that somebody gave me something because I got financial aid i.e. grants. There’s no way in hell that I would be earning the money I earn today, paying the taxes I pay, without those programs. Whatever financial aid I got, I had paid that back in the 80s. I’ve paid it back 10 times over in taxes. And, the most valuable contribution I’ve made isn’t just money towards taxes. Its the energy I’ve put into people. Energies that I needed when I was young. That’s the contribution I’m most proud of. This would almost certainly not be my reality without those programs. Nobody gave me a damn thing. What those wonderful people did in 1981 is decide to invest in the potential of an inner-city kid and their wise choice has paid off in dividends.
This piece isn’t a pitch for people to support DEI. This country was built on racism, patriarchy, class exploitation, etc. and those things continues to fuel its existence. I don’t see my education, activism, and experience as resources to do anything to further empower this backward society. I do see those things as a vehicle to encourage all peace and justice loving people to believe in our abilities to create the world that we and our future generations deserve. So, if you take anything from this, its that you shouldn’t see your future as one needing validation from any element of this capitalist system. We can fight for the types of programs that helped me as we should, we deserve that and so much more, but the larger picture is those programs came out of our struggle against injustice so don’t let people who know nothing of that struggle define its value. We need to rekindle that spirit of dignity that produced those programs. That’s how we got them and that’s how we can and will get something far more valuable for our future.
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