The Bittersweetness of Life on the Other Side of the Tracks

I bought a house today. Because I wasn’t in a position to buy, I have been renting a house for the past two and a half years.  This purchase represents a significant accomplishment for me.  I am more than excited about what it does for me financially and emotionally.  I should be extremely excited, and I am.  But, excitement is not all I feel.  I also feel a bit of sadness. My success is bittersweet.

About five years ago, I set out to secure, for my son, the absolute best education I could afford.  My son, who was seven at the time, was in a school that, by objective standards, was not the best of schools.  Being that my son is exceptionally bright, I always knew that he would eventually need more.  So, I made it my goal to get him into the best educational setting I could afford.  I spent a period of about three years researching schools in the area.  I searched long and hard for the perfect combination of academic prowess and diversity.   You’d be surprised at how difficult it is to find a school, in the Pittsburgh area, that has a respectable number of minority students and also has respectable academic performance.  An additional hurdle in my quest was the fact that his mother had to agree.  I am no longer with my son’s mother.  Our custody agreement requires that we agree on all major parenting decisions.  Thus, I didn’t just need to find the perfect school.  I needed to find the perfect school and convince my son’s mother to agree with me on it.  Suffice it to say that this was a tall order. 

After three years of offering up ideas and being shot down, I made a decision.  There was a public school, not far from where I lived at the time, which is considered a top-notch school.  It is ranked nationally.  It is acclaimed locally.  By the objective numbers, it’s a great school.  The downside: it’s in an affluent neighborhood.  Now, half of the people reading this had to go back and make sure they read that last sentence properly.  After all, who considers an affluent neighborhood a downside?  But, the other half of the people reading this were nodding in agreement as they read along.  You see, one of the strange truths that I discovered in my journey is that there are two very separate worlds that exist simultaneously and virtually side-by-side.  The haves and the have-nots.  Their worlds are quite different. Their values could not be more divergent.  This issue really brought that fact to light for me.

Having sprung primarily from the world of the have-nots, Black America has always had a strained relationship with money. Many of us don’t have any.  Those who have it are often ostracized for it.  Those who don’t have it, often vilify people who do.  So, when I suggested that my son be moved to a school in an affluent area, many in my inner circle, especially my son’s mother, objected.  People feared that the culture and the people there would never accept my son.  People feared that he couldn’t handle the pressure.  Some feared that the culture in the area might rub off on him. Again, this sounds silly to many of the people who will read this, but trust me.  It’s true.  The folks on the other side of the tracks often believe that the values, sensibilities, and culture surrounding wealth are less than desirable.

Anyway, I found this school district, and I rented a house.  I spent more money than I could afford, but my goal was to give my son the best.  After all, what’s the point in having money other than providing your children with opportunities?  I knew that, although the financial burden was heavy, my star was on the rise.  Sooner or later I would be in a better financial position.  I would buy a house.  I would have given my son the best.  It would all be worth it in the end.  I wish I could tell you that’s how this all went down.  I’m sure you know already, it’s not.  Ultimately, my son’s mother did not consent to him going to the school I chose for him.  I spent nearly three years living in one of the best school districts in the area, and my son never made it to the school.  As I expected, life got easier, financially.  I got my dream job.  I saved money.  I put myself in a position to buy a home.  But, in the end, my son would not be allowed to receive the gift I had worked so hard to give. 

I have heard several affluent Black people talk about the emotional struggle that came with their success.  As they move from the world of the have-nots, across the proverbial tracks, to the world of the haves, successful Black folks have often noted the difficulty that comes with their desire to remain connected to their old circle of friends and the realization that many of the people in their circle will not be able to make the transition.  In fact, there are plenty of famous stories of Black athletes and entertainers who are put into financial ruin by their undying desire to take everyone across the tracks with them.  Their goal of helping their circle cross the tracks essentially breaks them.  One lesson that I have heard repeated more than once is about the inevitability of accepting that everyone can’t make that transition with you. 

As I said, I bought a house today.  That’s bittersweet, because of what it represents.  You see, I didn’t buy a house in that affluent neighborhood I had been renting in, as was my plan.  When I came to accept that my son would never get to reap the benefits that access to that area could provide, I decided to move to where was.  Moving away from that neighborhood represents, to me, accepting that I my son would never be permitted to cross the tracks.  Not fully.  He would be permitted to visit, but he would always be encouraged not to take full advantage of the world that exists on the other side.  That makes me more than a little bit sad. 

Let me be clear.  I’m not wealthy.  I’m not some ball player who just got drafted.  I’m not a physician or an engineer suddenly making boatloads of money.  But, landing my dream job shortly after marrying a similarly successful partner did land me suddenly and squarely on the other side of the tracks.  And what I have learned is that the other side of the tracks is more about mentality than money.  On some level, it is a geographical destination, but only in the sense that there are physical boundaries, created by housing prices, that give certain people access to resources, like schools, healthcare facilities, playgrounds, and safe streets.  But, more than geography, the other side of the tracks is about a way of thinking.  It’s a set of values.   It’s the fact that half of my friends will be insulted when they read this, and the other half will be baffled that I had to write it.  It’s the fact that when I tell people in my hometown where I’ve been living for the last few years, they often ask me how I managed to survive.  They don’t believe me when I tell them that the people in the neighborhood were amazingly nice to us and that we never encountered a single moment of feeling out of place.  When I tell my current neighbors that my son doesn’t go to their school, they literally get confused.  They get this stunned look on their faces.  Two different neighbors actually offered to call my son’s mother, assuming that it must be some misunderstanding. That’s the two sides of the tracks.  They are side by side.  They interact daily.  And, unless you have experienced both sides, I am not convinced that you would even know that the other side is there.  But I have, and so I do. 

To me, the only benefit of having money is that it affords me the ability to provide my family with opportunities.  And this was an opportunity.  Buying the house I bought represents accepting that my son will never realize that opportunity.  Its sort of like buying season passes to Disney World, and then on the first day of the season, deciding to go to Cedar Point instead.  Sure, Cedar Point is nice, but it’s not Disney World.  And you already have passes to Disney World.  That’s what this moves feels like, to me.  That’s what my success feels like, to me.  It feels like having season passes to Disney World, and knowing that my son isn’t allowed to go with me.  And so, my success is always bittersweet. 

It Ain't Always Applesauce

Yesterday, I was talking to a colleague, and I recounted the following story.

A few years back, my son's school began sending home brown paper bags full of food every Friday.  The bag would be filled with Pop Tarts, cups of applesauce, fruit snacks, crackers, and other things of this nature.  At first, I didn’t pay it much mind.  But, as the collection of Pop Tarts and applesauce in my cupboard grew, I started to become a little annoyed.  So, I called the school.  I reached an administrator, and I kindly asked why my son kept coming home with bags of food.  The administrator explained, with pride, that the school adopted a program where kids are sent home with food every week, because many of the families in the district are hurting for food.  As I could appreciate this problem, I was pleased to hear that the school was being proactive.   Partly wanting to be helpful, I asked the lady if she could take my son’s name off of the list of children who would be sent a bag of food.  “Why would you do that?” she asked.  “Because my son doesn’t need food.  We have food.  You can give his bag to someone who needs it.”  Suddenly, the lady sounded both confused and insulted.  It was as if I had given her information that didn’t make sense to her.

As I relayed this story to my colleague, who is an educator, he explained the lady’s confusion.  He explained that educators in these inner city schools often times have a narrative, in their heads, about their students.  They tell themselves that the students don’t have good homes, or that they don’t have fathers, or that they haven’t had a good meal all day.  He explained that, while this narrative is sometimes true, it is not nearly as pervasive as some would have us believe.  He went on to say, “Yes, these kids may have needs…”  I interrupted, “But it ain’t always applesauce!” 

We got a good laugh out of that. We went on to talk about ways that we could implement real change and have an impact on those kids.  I am hopeful that something good will come of it.  But, I think there is something important to be learned from that conversation.  Often times, when we seek to help people, we seek to help them with the things we’ve decided that they need, as opposed to simply asking them what they need.  Often times, the narrative we tell ourselves overshadows the reality of a situation.  As you go about the business of helping people, you would be wise to remember this.  The people you seek to help may very well need something, but it ain’t always applesauce.

Rueben for President

Because I'm always talking about what the government has done/is doing to Black folks, someone asked me what I would do if I were president. I thought I'd share my answer.

If I were elected today, I'd establish free college education for all people of African slave decent. I would also limit welfare and replace that subsidy with free college or trade school for impoverished people. Cap it at 5 years of state college. I would amend the 13th amendment, finally abolishing slavery. I would immediately make private prisons illegal. I would decriminalize Black life. (How so? Read on.) Legalize marijuana. Drastically reduce jail terms for non-violent crime. Eliminate the 3 strike rule. Criminalize policing and sentencing disproportionately based on race. Like, harsh sentences for any police officer or judge found to have been consistently using bias in their stops, use of force, and sentencing. Re-write welfare laws, child support laws, and public housing regulations that incentivize the alienation of fathers. Re-instate voting rights for felons. Allow them to get federal and state financial aid as well. Get rid of the electoral college. Make public education funding county or state wide, rather than by district. Create homeownership programs for minorities. Criminalize unfair housing, lending, and hiring practices. Create a diversity task force charged with enforcing all of the above with an iron fist. Under my administration, if you want to discriminate against a minority, it better be rich white heterosexual males. Otherwise, you'll be looking at prison time. 

I would also outlaw large donors or corporate donors in political campaign fundraising. Put someone smarter than me on the task of actually achieving universal healthcare. Create term limits in congress. Remove every tax break for the wealthy in favor of a simple tax code that taxes people at a reasonable rate and leaves them no way to get out of it. Drastically reduce defense spending. Eliminate foreign aid. Under my administration, America would mind it's doggone business. Spend obscene amounts of money on education. Help the elderly. Take care of vets. Put serious money into mental health. Reduce fossil fuel use. Equal pay for women and marriage equality both be reality. Every. Period. 

There is plenty more to do, but this would be my start. 

For the record, I don't wanna be president. I wouldn't rule out a run for congress though.