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4th & Ali
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100 Years Later - The Tulsa Massacre
One hundred years ago in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a coordinated White mob used extreme violence to resolve what they believed to be a violation of a vain belief system they held so dear. In the full view of the All-Seeing, this mob avenged their shape-shifting idols by pointing and shooting, raining turpentine bombs from the air, and doing whatever else they could to inflict pain and death on a community of Black folks who dared to strive, build up their own enterprises, and live with dignity and self-respect.
Not even sixty years after emancipation, an enterprising group of Black Americans built a vibrant community that was economically self-sustaining. The heart of this community was a strip of Greenwood Avenue that was intersected by Archer and Pine Streets. According to multiple accounts, the businesses ranged from restaurants and supermarkets to movie theatres, banks, and law offices. The business community in Tulsa became known as Black Wall Street and was even praised by W.E.B. Du Bois for being a Black community that was “so highly organized” with “established stores and business organizations.”
Considering the scale of the violence, it is clear that the success of this community inspired a deep rage among many in White Tulsa. Regardless of the events that were said to have provoked such a violent response, it is quite obvious that large-scale violence was inevitable. A motivated collective in Tulsa was simply not going to allow Black Wall Street to stand. With this in mind, it is critical for the fair-minded to think deeper about the moral implications of what unfolded in Tulsa from May 31st to June 1st in 1921.
Social scientists have documented and analyzed for some time now the connections between social ideology, social beliefs, and social action. Typically, there is relative order and peace when these three elements are aligned and social turmoil when there is misalignment. So, when ideas and beliefs about Black inferiority become rooted in your mind and heart and a thriving Black business community is evident before your eyes, the White and insecure are faced with the choice to either abandon their alabaster calf or to make war on its behalf. Clearly, the White citizens of Tulsa chose war.
The Tulsa Massacre, and the many other instances of thriving Black communities being attacked for daring to strive economically and live with dignity, is vitally important to amplify given how it slices through the ultimate hollowness of conventional white ideology. On so many occasions, we hear the sentiments of Black people needing to “pull themselves up by the bootstraps” and to “succeed based on their own merits.” This sentiment works as long as Black people remain on the bottom, but when ‘the bluff’ is called through Black economic success and self-determination, much anger ensues due to the fealty paid to the alabaster calf residing in the heart.
Unfortunately, the alabaster calf continues to live on. It is avenged when a Black man reaches the highest level of office. It is avenged when Black people shout ‘Black Lives Matter.’ It is avenged when Black people turn out to the polls to vote. Whether 400 years ago, 100 years ago, or a year ago, Black people continue to face the brunt of an idolatrous belief system that sees them as subhuman, and cannot rest until this evil characterization of human reality is made concrete. And our White brothers and sisters who do not bow before the alabaster calf are much too comfortable with the flock who do and the actions they undertake. If it is our sincere desire to move beyond this racial muck, we need more Moses-like figures to arise in White America and less opportunist Aarons rearing their heads in Black America.
I’ll conclude with a quote from survivor Viola Ford Fletcher:
“…I will never forget the violence of the White mob when we left our home. I still see Black men being shot, Black bodies lying in the street. I still smell smoke and see fire. I still see Black businesses being burned. I still hear airplanes flying overhead. I hear the screams, I still live with the massacre every day… I’m asking that my country acknowledge what has happened to me. The tremors, the pain, and the lost and I ask the survivors and descendants to be given the chance to seek justice.”
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Abide in Peace, legend. 🙏🏾
A few days ago I received some very sad news from Turkey - Ali passed away last Wednesday morning. It’s quite hard to believe this charming man - who had one of the best laughs I’ve known - is with us no more!
My friendship with him, ignited in the summer of 2012 was certainly one of the most delightful surprises of my life. The period when the blog started to become well known was quite surreal. It was always so enjoyable to see Ali’s reaction to his new found fame, whether it was when he was recognised on the U-Bahn or when a photo of him was published in a newspaper. Equally rewarding was seeing the joy he brought into so many people’s lives. I received countless messages from people all over the world, telling me Ali reminded them of their grandfather or uncle and how happy it made them to see the photos of him and to read about our friendship.
It was of course harder to keep in touch with Ali when he moved back to Turkey a few years ago. I’m thankful that earlier this year one of his granddaughters with a smartphone called me via video chat when she was visiting Ali, and we spoke a couple of times over the past months.
This photo was taken in August 2014, when Ali and I went out to Brandenburg with Kerim and Betül. That was the day he mentioned he had been a member of a circus in West Berlin in the 1970s…I have wondered in the interim if that was perhaps a slightly tall tale, or maybe the language barrier got in the way. The thing is that Ali and I could never communicate in much detail, but I think our friendship was held together by a mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. And what never got lost in translation was his warmth, his generosity and his zest for life. I’ll miss you Ali!
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Race, COVID, and The Line in the Sand
A failure in our collective morality is the linkage between the explosion of racial awareness that has sprung from the brutal murder of George Floyd and the COVID-19 crisis. Both reveal a widespread inability to recognize and empathize with our fellow human beings.
The brazen murder of George Floyd is an example of what happens when darkened souls are allowed to assert their desires with impunity. It reveals how far bad people will go when they have no fear that their actions will be thoroughly examined under the light of justice. George Floyd’s murder cannot be disconnected from the murders of Breonna Taylor, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, and countless others, because each of these cases set the stage for the wide latitude given to police officers when Black lives are involved.
The recent spike in COVID-19 cases and the deaths that are sure to follow is a direct result of the spoiled identities that have been coddled for far too long. Somehow, some way, and for too many, American patriotism has become a Snuggie for corrosive expressions of individualism that imperil our public health. A novel coronavirus that thrives on the fact of our oneness as a people has been doubly empowered by our inability to unite on the basis of doing everything in our power to disrupt its spread. Something as simple as wearing a _______ mask has caused an uproar, and I can only imagine how absolutely foolish we look in the eyes of the world.
The place that we’re in at the moment is far from good. I applaud everyone fighting the good fight to meet the darkness of racism and corrosive individualism with decency and a commitment to living out the fact of our oneness as a people. We must remember that the greatest foe of darkness and ill-intention is Justice. Justice rooted in the recognition of the oneness of humanity is the bleaching sun. This is the line in the sand. It is this form of justice that checks spoiled identities with the counterweight of community and allows Black life to thrive and prosper. This is the time for transformative moral leadership. This is the time for all those who see each human face as a reflection of God’s image to step up and unite. There is too much at stake. The light has to win this one.
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Ransom or Profit
The stones shout and proclaim
As we busy ourselves with this world
... these structures
... these evils
while pure-hearted consciences “lie quivering on distant sands”
Quite a few have spoken plainly
even raising their voices in case those in the back
care to hear
Vocal chords tire after a while
Breath becomes shallow as crowds gaze at their phones
But when rumbles come that can’t be denied,
they come to the few, and cry out:
‘Labor, Labor, Labor, for us!’
‘Do it, for us!’
But the few know
that their vocal chords are tired
and their breath is shallow
and that the energetic cries of today
Will eventually fade
Because these are the days when appearing to be is a commodity to be sold
While being and doing means pain, sacrifice, and likely dying before the Victory
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February 2020
‘Faded Colors’
The deep navy fades
into a skyish blue,
leaving the stars to shine less brilliant
The red congeals into a purplish mess
as if diseased
Spilling downward,
dripping along the edges
To the unclouded, sober eye
It is now clear
‘We just live here.’
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To be African in America
Imagine being fully aware of your own humanity, all of those hopes, fears, and dreams, and the conflict that comes when your body is chocolate brown in America. From slavery to a freedom devoid of recompense for all that was extracted, Africans in America have been burdened by what we know of ourselves and how we are treated in this land. To live as an African in America is to be hyper-visible, but never seen. It means having your life taken for granted by the society that raised you, in direct contrast to how you were raised in the home. Yes, Du Bois, it means double consciousness at the very least, the sense of feeling your full humanity in a society invested in actively questioning it, a society tethered to raising doubts about Black humanity on a systemic scale.
Ahmaud Arbery, my fellow Louisvillian Breonna Taylor, and too many others were caught in this evil web. And the sadness and rage we feel as Africans in America are rooted in both our recognition of their wrongful deaths and our understanding that we are all caught in the web. We know that we must keep going and keep striving for greater heights, but danger is always lurking. We know that we can be next. My heart goes out to the families of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery as well as the families of those who may be under the national radar at the moment. I can’t imagine the pain.
I have no answers, but I recognize that the question that we as Africans in America have faced for 400 years is how do we create a world where our full humanity can be on full display, untroubled? At this point, everything must be on the table and all seats must be open to all those willing to engage.
Peace and Blessings.
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News and Notes (Week of 4.27.2020)
I thought I would kick off my commitment to blog more by discussing how it feels to get those three letters after the comma. It feels good, but of course, it would feel better if the world wasn’t burning around us. That said, it was a helluva journey and I’m happy to get across the finish line. Two underrated things that stand out is the drudgery of the process between successfully defending your dissertation and submitting that final version and how much you really get to know yourself in that last year, ranging from studying for your comprehensive exams and defending your dissertation. But yeah, feels great to finish.
The obvious lessons that I will take with me from my Ph.D. program experience is that I should have done this shit earlier. This shit is meant for single or dating folks. When you have a family, it is ROUGH. When it comes to the timing of pursuing an advanced degree, DO NOT be like me. Other than that, I wish I could have found more balance between maintaining and nurturing connections and getting my stuff done. I will try to be better with this going forward.
If my life made more sense, I would have graduated with my Ph.D. around 2010 and seeking an assistant professor job would be a no-brainer, especially given how much I enjoyed my TA experience back in the day. But given the paths my life has actually taken, I am primarily invested in the consulting path. Based on my professional experience and just the gratification of helping organizations while owning your own time, the consulting path is HIGHLY attractive. I’m still keeping an eye out, though, for academic gigs that would be tough to pass up. That said, I definitely want to continue publishing, both in academic contexts and more generally.
I must say, it wasn’t easy to maintain focus on my work and deadlines during this pandemic. As someone who feels a natural connection to people, it is TOUGH to digest what is happening out here. Salute to all those who have maintained sober minds and are dedicating themselves to being of service. TRIPLE SALUTE to the healthcare workers. It’s also a bit challenging to deal with the uncertainty of the economy, but what can we do besides push ahead, right?
My hope lies in the road traveled. I am reminded of that old gospel song:
I don’t feel no ways tired
I’ve come too far from where I’ve started from
Nobody told me
The road would be easy
I don’t believe He brought me this far
To leave me
This is my testimony and the unfailing light in the darkness.
Peace and Blessings,
Dr. Jamar M. Wheeler
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