THESE EYES

I can say without a doubt one knows when they are growing old. During my time from youngster to young man, I watch the ending of the careers of Joe Louis and Sugar Ray Robinson. I watch Jim Brown, Muhammad Ali and Bill Russell come and go; I watched the black athelete rein supreme, proud in his physical prowess, warrior’s icons to our young.

I could also imagine how demoralizing and frightening this must have been for our white brethren being in the presence of such physical domination. It would seem so because each year, with each white sport commentator, there was always a white hope. Max Schmeling, Jake Lamotta, Frank Gifford, Jerry Quarry, John Havlicek, all good, but not quite up to the task, no matter the hype.

But now, when I look through these eyes that had witnessed such splendid African American male potency, they reveal a different tale. Age and living not only took its toll on me, but in a large degree the pride of black manhood. I no longer see the images of those magnificent athletes. What I see is black self-degradation and a systematic removal of American blacks from athletics. This is all happening in conjunction with the feminizing of Black males in the media and general public. Our warriors have gone because their images have gone.

Concomitantly, our young men have become scavengers. They prey on the weak of their own community while the new ideal of manhood is the blond blue eyed “buffed” soldier, “Sir, Yes sir.” Since it appears black men have succumb to the pressures of white supremacy and racism, is it just a matter of time before their complete transition to oblivion? Will the names of Joe Louis, Sugar Ray, Jim Brown and the others repose in African American museums like the testimonials to Sitting Bull, Geronimo, and Crazy Horse?

With rare exception, when I watch young black men in action, never mind the venue, these eyes see them junking their souls for glitter. Yo dawg, it’ hard out here for a pimp when he tryin to get this money for da rent “you ain’t knowin”…