In The Absence of a Positive Male Role Model

If they ever ask you how I became what I have become, make sure that you tell them that it was in the absence of a positive male role model because I didn’t have one.

There is a strong possibility that young African American men and women who are born into low income families will become just another statistic; another number that suckles at the teat of the average American taxpayer. The specifics of their identities are disregarded and the parameters of their potential is stifled. Not only by their, would be, oppressors; but also by their own downtrodden and burdened psyches. It is extremely hard to be aware of the wealth of untapped potential that a person has within them when the society that they are forced into assimilating in to is constantly reiterating the idea that it really isn’t there. One becomes compelled to live lives where dreams are deferred and the aforementioned potential isn’t actualized. The stigma of being a part of the disenfranchised masses creeps up on them and settles them into a mode complacency that kills in a metaphorical capacity that rivals cancer. It’s hard enough to live and maintain but so many have to do it with one hand tied behind their back, a ball and chain permanently attached to their feet, and the stereotype of laziness fixated on their person.

If they ever ask you how I became what I have become, make sure that you tell them that it was in the absence of a positive male role model because I didn’t have one.

In the days of old, there were a multitude of African American men who are socially inclined and culturally aware. These men possessed the wherewithal to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders while paving a way for advancement and success as it pertains to the “American Dream”. Their goals were actualized and their lives had meaning. They had no other choice but to rage against the machine that oppressed them and suppressed the potential that they were confident enough to know that they had. The discourse that ensued in the following decades gave way to the unidentifiable face of the African American race that we have today. The dream that Martin Luther King Jr had didn’t consist of his people reverting back to his mold of savagery that will, undoubtedly, lay waste to this once proud race. Malcolm X, in all his wisdom, had no idea how misconstrued his words would become. In the twilight of its prime, social change has done nothing to the African American race but render an undeserved sense of entitlement and a cloud of disgrace that is indicative to the nation that we all call home.

If they ever ask you how I became what I have become, make sure that you tell them that it was in the absence of a positive male role model because I didn’t have one.

In seeing the plight of the African American race and the disgrace that is associated with it, I have taken my success into my own hands. I have made a conscious effort to not be seen as a statistic in the disenfranchised majority. In holding my own generic brand of truth to be self-evident, I have erased the unfortunate precedence that has been set by the race. If they ever ask you how I became what I have become, make sure that you tell them that it was in the absence of a positive male role model because I didn’t have one.

Advertisements