Yolo Akili brings us a reflective essay about unemployment and barber shop culture in black communities.
I saw the pain in their eyes when I sat in the barbershop.
The conversation was about money.
The posture was hunched over,
The pupils lowered;
the heart…heavy.
Phrases echoed across chairs:
“not enough”,
“they won’t pay me”,
“can’t find work.”
At times there were interjections of ambition initiated by Jay Z’s voice on the radio:
“I invented swag/puttin’ super models in a cab”…
After Jay Z the tone of the space would shift,
Someone would say: “I heard they are hiring at this spot in the Bronx!”
“My boy has this plan..”
“Were gonna get on this deal…”
It was as if Jay And Kanye’s economic example was a spark of light; a potential; a possibility.
But when the song ended, the spark faded. And the space was no longer filled with optimism, or pity; or sadness. Just the weight of all. The full, heavy robust weight of it all.
♦◊♦
I know what that’s like.
The first time I was unemployed was in 2007. I had been “released” from a job that was spiritually draining and emotionally destructive.
I stayed for the comfort. And the regular check every month. Even after the scars had started to pile up on my soul. Even after the bags had started to encircle my eyes.
When I was released from that prison, I was still devastated. In my eyes, my economic independence had been stripped away from me. I was forced to find other means of income, which often meant asking for help from others.
It was a very hard thing to do.
Not simply because of my ego. But because of my socialization. You see as a spirit born into a body marked as male by this culture, I had been instructed from birth that to need help, particularly help with money; meant I was wrong.
I was wrong because as a man I was supposed to fend for myself.
I was not supposed to have hard times. I was not supposed to get down on my luck.
And to support this theory; I could turn on the radio to hear all the rappers talk about people like me “Who needed to get their money up.” Who were “Broke bitches so crusty/disgust me.”
In support of this I could hear all the hetero black women’s narratives of
“sorry ass broke niggas.”
In support of this I could hear all the black men narratives of “broke ass queens.”
In support of this theory I could hear all the prosperity teachers saying that my lack of income flow was connected to my spiritual impoverishment.
No matter where I looked, I was always to blame.
Not systems.
Not inequity.
Me.
I was wrong.
The shame of not having money sent me down a spiral of internal emotional abuse.
I recanted how dumb I was, how wrong I was, how stupid I was that I couldn’t find work and didn’t have money.
It was so easy to fall into a pit of shame and that shame immobilized me for weeks.
It was so hard to dig myself out of it.
Sitting in that barber shop that day looking at all the brown and black faces I realized:
Some of us never do.
♦◊♦
Male socialization runs so deep through our veins; that for many the shame of not having money, the shame of not being able to provide; collapses upon every other facet of our lives.
Some of us rage because of the shame. Some of us try to nut out the shame. Some us write, trying to force the shame to fall on paper. Some of us rationalize the shame as wrong and tuck it under our intellects. Some of us run away from the shame leaving behind our children and our partners.
Few of us speak the shame. Few of us hold the shame, look at it; and let it be within us but not of us.
Few of us now how… Male emotional castration was the first act of male socialization.
“Stop crying!”
“Man Up!”
“Don’t be a punk!”: Were amongst the first words many of us recall.
But we have to get our feelings back.
We have to acknowledge all that is within us that we can use to re-imagine the hustle; re-imagine the system…without waiting on the powers that be.
We have to dig deeper into our imaginations.
We have to realize that we have a lot together and little alone.
You see, I believe the recession is a ripe opportunity for us to re-imagine how we relate to each other economically.
Will we continue even in the face of this to be individuals; isolated and objective?
Will we continue to let our distrust of each other prevent us from economic connection?
Will we continue to cherish our shame in order to excuse our fear?
Will we continue to let the shame contour our hearts and minds?
The foot ball games, the club, the fashion, the diva worship, the fleeting moments of sexual intimacy will not transform the shame of economic disadvantage.
It is only through speaking it, that we can find the courage to divorce our economic disadvantage from our self worth.
It is the only way we can transform that pain to power, by staring that shame straight in the eyes.
–
photo: ElvertBarnes / Flickr
About Yolo Akili
Vocalyze
“Male socialization runs so deep through our veins; that for many the shame of not having money, the shame of not being able to provide; collapses upon every other facet of our lives.”
This is so real. I was a product of “workforce reduction” & I can confirm everything that you’ve written, in fact I was aware but could not change the feeling of hopelessness and despair.
Ditto…
I stopped going to barber shops and now cut my own hair. I do kind of miss the trash talking but I also hated it. Keeping and ensuring the black man stayed down was how racist society kept the black family muzzled and suppressed, by keeping them poor. After generation upon generation upon generaiton of that frustration and humiliation, some (many) simply lost their will, and have created generations of black men in anger and despair, with hope only through sports, entertainment, or crime.
It’s possible to escaepe the cycle but it’s not easy if that’s all you see. I have no sons but do my best to mentor and counsel black boys and young men, especially those without present fathers, or with fathers working 2 or 3 jobs. This economy has only made a bad situation worse but I tell young men to be proud, keep their heads up, and work to continuously improve themselves, never giving in or giving up.
Amen, Eric! We need to show the youth what is possible. I grew up in an impoverished household, my father was in prison for drug dealing, my step-father was an alcoholic… I learned the values of hard work from my coaches, some of which were also my teachers in school. We need the right men to look up to for values and positive examples.
But we also need to reinforce that positivity that these men had when the song came on the radio. It may never get better, but there are always glimmers of hope to keep us striving for it!
Yolo, this is an amazing piece. Well done.
“Male emotional castration was the first act of male socialization.” So true, so destructive. If it is not ok to talk about the emotional pain that overwhelms any man in this situation, it is like pressure building on a dam. And that pressure must be released or the dam will break. What a horrible legacy for so many men. Thank you for writing and speaking out and “transforming pain to power.”
There is much power in your writing.
This was an amazing piece. I look forward to seeing more of your work.
Very nice article
A very honest piece…
“We have to acknowledge all that is within us that we can use to re-imagine the hustle; re-imagine the system…without waiting on the powers that be.
We have to dig deeper into our imaginations.
We have to realize that we have a lot together and little alone.
You see, I believe the recession is a ripe opportunity for us to re-imagine how we relate to each other economically.
Will we continue even in the face of this to be individuals; isolated and objective?
Will we continue to let our distrust of each other prevent us from economic connection?”
Yolo, Thank You.
I bet you have a good idea how many billions of men, old and young, white, brown and black, all over this planet feel exactly how you have described.
And to these eyes you have asked exactly the right questions.
So, let’s talk about it. Right here. Right now. How I keep you as my brother? How do you keep me as your brother? Really, practically? How can we make our own shelter and our own food? In cities. How can we share what we have?
And if somebody else has already been writing about this, speak up. Share that.
I made two shirts that read, “I am Poor.” I thought I should wear them and see what people say. Boldly display what I have been encultured to be ashamed of.
Yolo, my soul-brother…once again, you write it, tell it, analyze it so well….and for that I thank, salute and love you….speak on…
” I believe the recession is a ripe opportunity for us to re-imagine how we relate to each other economically.”
Amen to this.
Thank you.
As the mother of a beautiful, kind-hearted, generous and loving (yes, I confess I’m proud) boy, I see posts like these and my heart breaks for all the sons of other mothers who have suffered like this. This was powerful, Yolo. May you find the connections that you seek to make, and may they form into something stronger and more enduring than all of us.
Eden – Your message is so beautiful and loving – thank you!!
Thank you so much for this brilliant and powerful post.
…ya done good chief…!
An excellent article.
I recommend Alexander Dumas’ “The Three Musketeers” to anyone looking for an example of men carrying themselves with dignity in a situation like the one you describe (the musketeers are perpetually in search of new ways to supplement an unsteady income, are often poor and, as was common at the time, frequently accept monetary aid from their female lovers or patrons without the slightest bit of shame).