Negroes on Parade by Bernard Gassaway

I wrote the following article nearly seven years ago. I was inspired by Dr. Carter G. Woodson's The Mis-Education of the Negro and Minister Malcolm X's The Ballot or the Bullet speech. Today, I am inspired by my daughter. She reminds me that it is important to be "authentic."

March on ‘til victory is won.  

Some time during my tenure as senior superintendent of alternative schools and programs, 2003-2005, I vowed never to stand behind a podium with Mayor Michael Bloomberg, as I had seen countless community based Negroes do. I felt, being one of the few African American men in leadership in the New York City Department of Education, surely they would call upon me at some point when it was politically feasible. They must have known I would have refused because I never received the call.

I notice when the mayor and chancellor need Black faces to support a given initiative, they call upon the usual cast of characters, otherwise known as Negro leaders. These so-called leaders have one thing in common – they are for sale.

The mayor says, "I need for you to stand with me on this issue. In turn, I will support your applications for grants, schools, programs, and jobs."

The Negro responds, "Thank you for choosing me. Not that it matters, but what is the issue?" 

The mayor, "You will find out at the press conference." 

When I see the anointed Negro leaders stand with and behind the mayor, at his convenience, some with wide grins, showing their teeth, I am reminded of some of my ancestors who were forced into chattel slavery in this country. I am reminded of auction blocks which were stained by their blood. I am reminded of the scars from whips and chains. I am reminded of women being raped and told to tend the fields shortly after giving birth. I am reminded of the burning crosses. I am reminded of the limp bodies hanging lifeless from trees. I am reminded of the countless deaths of people who will never be known – because they chose death over servitude.

As I slowly approach fifty years of life, I ask myself, “Will things ever change?” I feel sad for our children and their children. If they follow the lead of the twenty-first century Negro, their children will become the next generation’s Negro.

So, to the aforementioned Negroes, as you proudly march on parade with the highest bidders, ask yourselves, “Is it really worth it?”