January 08, 2015
By George E. Curry
NNPA Columnist
Sandwiched between the deaths of former New York Gov. Mario Cuomo and popular ESPN sportscaster Stuart Scott, the passing of former Massachusetts Senator Edward W. Brooke III at the age of 95 did not get nearly the attention it deserved.
Though two African Americans were elected to the U.S. Senate during the Reconstruction Era by the Mississippi legislature – Hiram R. Revels and Blanche K. Bruce, both Republicans – Brooke was the first Black elected to the upper chamber by popular vote, beginning his term in 1967. What made his election remarkable at the time was that a Black Republican Episcopalian could be elected statewide in Massachusetts, a predominantly Democratic and Catholic state with a Black population of less than 3 percent. It would be another 25 years before another African American – Carol Moseley Braun of Illinois – would win a U.S. Senate seat (1992).
Prior to his election to the Senate, Brooke served two terms as attorney general of Massachusetts. When he came to Washington, he declined to join the Congressional Black Caucus (CBC) and told Time magazine: “I do not intend to be a national leader of the Negro people. I intend to do my job as a senator from Massachusetts.”
While doing his job, Brooke showed that – as did several Black Republicans who would later follow him in public service, including Assistant Secretary of Labor Arthur Fletcher in the Nixon administration and William T. Coleman, Jr., Secretary of Transportation under Gerald Ford – he could be a Black Republican without selling out his principles or abandoning the fight for civil rights.
When Barry Goldwater won the party’s 1964 presidential nomination, for example, Brooke, the state attorney general, refused to be photographed with Goldwater or endorse the Arizona ultraconservative.
In the 1966 book titled, The Challenge of Change: Crisis in Our Two-Party System, he asked, rhetorically: “Where are our plans for a New Deal or a Great Society?”
Though fellow Republican Richard Nixon was in the White House, Brooke opposed Nixon’s attempts to abolish the Office of Economic Opportunity and the Job Corps and weaken the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC).
And when Nixon nominated Clement Haynsworth and Harrold Carswell to the U.S. Supreme Court, Brooke was part of a bipartisan coalition that blocked the appointment of the two nominees who were considered hostile to civil rights.
On Nov. 4, 1973, Brooke became the first Republican to call for Richard Nixon’s resignation after the famous “Saturday night massacre” that took place when Nixon ordered the firing of Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox after Cox issued a subpoena for copies of Nixon’s taped conversations recorded in the Oval Office.
Brooke assumed an offensive posture as well, particularly on housing issues. He co-sponsored the Fair Housing Act of 1968, which prohibited discrimination based on race, color, religion or ethnicity. It was signed into law by President Lyndon B. Johnson a week after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
He continued to work on strengthening the law and in 1969, Congress passed the “Brooke Amendment” limiting public housing tenants’ out-of-pocket rent expenditure to 25 percent of the resident’s income, a percentage that has since increased to 30 percent.
With the Voting Rights Act up for renewal in 1975, Brooke engaged in an “extended debate” with John Stennis (R-Miss.) on the Senate floor that resulted in the landmark measure being extended and expanded. He was also part of the team of legislators who retained Title IX that guarantees equal education to females and the Equal Credit Act, a measure that gave married women the right to have credit in their own name.
In 1967, Brooke served on the 11-member President’s Commission on Civil Disorders, better known as the Kerner Commission, which was established by President Johnson to investigate the causes of the 1967 race riots and to provide recommendations for the future.
At various points during his career, Brooke was at odds with civil rights leaders and liberals. As attorney general, he opposed the NAACP’s call for a boycott of Boston’s public schools to protest the city’s de facto segregation, saying the law required students to stay in school. In the Senate, he opposed a program to recruit teachers to work in disadvantaged communities and opposed amending Senate rules to make filibusters against civil rights legislation easier to terminate.
Brooke also faced personal health challenges, including being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2002. He underwent a double mastectomy and was declared cancer free. Brooke spoke publicly about the illness, which strikes about 1,500 men each year, a disproportionate number of them Black.In his 2006 autobiography, Bridging The Divide: My Life (Rutgers University Press), Brooke said, “My fervent expectation is that sooner rather than later, the United States Senate will more closely reflect the rich diversity of this great country.”
Throughout his life, Brooke did that exceptionally well.
George E. Curry, former editor-in-chief of Emerge magazine, is editor-in-chief of the National Newspaper Publishers Association News Service (NNPA.) He is a keynote speaker, moderator, and media coach. Curry can be reached through his Web site, www.georgecurry.com. You can also follow him at www.twitter.com/currygeorge and George E. Curry Fan Page on Facebook.
January 01, 2015
By Julianne Malveaux
NNPA Columnist
Rafael Ramos had been a school security guard before he joined the New York City Police Department two years ago. Ramos, 40, was married and had two children. The youngest child, Jaden, 13, fondly remembered his dad on Facebook and Twitter, describing his dad as “the best father I could ask for.” Already, many in the Ramos family say they have forgiven the Ismaayl Brisley, the man who executed Rafael Ramos and his colleague, Wenjian Liu, on December 20.
Liu, 32, attended the College of Staten Island and Kingsborough Community College. He was a dedicated police officer who, according to news reports, chose his career out of a sense of duty and obligation. He had been married for just two months.
Eric Garner, 43, was also married and had six children; the youngest, Legacy, was born just three months before his father died. Garner’s death was ruled a homicide, probably because he was placed in a chokehold, a forbidden police maneuver. At 400 pounds, he suffered from diabetes and asthma, but – despite sinister efforts to blame Garner’s health for his death – those diseases did not kill him. A cursory view of the last moments of his life show excessive police force and medical indifference to a man whose dying utterance, “I can’t breathe,” has become the mantra for a movement.
Tamir Rice never lived long enough to reach the legal age for marriage. He was just 12 years old when when Timothy Loeman shot him to death. Loeman was described as “unfit” for police duty in Independence, Ohio but he somehow made it onto the larger, Cleveland police force. It took him all of two seconds to decide the precious little boy had a dangerous weapon, although the 911 caller who alerted the police said the gun was probably not real.
Richael Brown, described as a “gentle giant” by his friends, also had his life cut short. He was killed by a remorseless Darren Wilson, who pumped 12 rounds into the young, Black man who was looking forward to attending community college. His words, “hands up, don’t shoot” have been printed on signs and T-shirts all over the world, as a symbol of police brutality and active resistance. A grand jury failed to indict Darren Wilson, whose testimony seems to have been coached by Robert McCulloch, a prosecutor whose actions were, at best, questionable. His killing, linked with those of Tamir Rice and Eric Garner, has sparked an international movement against police brutality and excessive police force.
What links the deaths of Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, Rafael Ramos and Wenjian Liu? Some would say that one set of deaths was revenge for the other. Actually, all of the deaths represent a tragic loss of life. They represent losses for families and friends, tragedies for communities. The connection between Brown, Rice, Garner, Ramos and Liu is that all of these lives should be mourned. .
Patrick Lynch, the president of the New York Police Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association, has used incendiary rhetoric to link the killings of Rafael Ramos and Wenjian Liu to the international protests against police brutality. Lynch blames the killings of Ramos and Liu on New York City Mayor Bill De Blasio, whose compassionate words after a grand jury failed to indict Eric Garner’s killer set just the right tone.
Instead of asking who is to blame for the tragic deaths, Lynch should focus on the mental illness that clearly compelled Ismaaiyl Brinsley to kill two police officers. It is troubling that the media has focused on “revenge” shootings without fully exploring the possibility that Brinsley simply was “not all there.” He shot his former girlfriend before heading to New York to kill police officers, and then he killed himself. These are not the actions of a rational human being.
Acting in absolutely righteous rage, tens of thousands of protestors have taken to the streets, sometimes in actions that have been carefully orchestrated, and other times in spontaneous outrage. Al Sharpton gathered thousands to Washington, D.C., flanked by the mothers of the Black men who were slain. Refreshingly, the protesters were multi-racial and multi-generational. “Hands up, don’t shoot,” and “I can’t breathe” were their watchwords. There is no thick line, and probably not even a dotted line between the police killings and killings of black men except for the fact that we live in a violent culture.
When Adam Lanza killed 26 people in Newtown, Conn. in 2011, his deranged Internet postings were seen as part of his mental illness. Too many are focusing on Ismaaiyl Brinkley’s supposed “revenge” and too few are focusing on his mental illness. And, most importantly, too few are focusing on the equivalence of life, the fact that every death is a tragedy.
Julianne Malveaux is a Washington, D.C.-based economist and writer. She is President Emerita of Bennett College for Women in Greensboro, N.C.
December 25, 2014
By Jineea Butler
NNPA Columnist
One of my mentors asked me why I was so quiet and not making my voice heard in the streets protesting for justice. First, because, I Can’t Breathe. I am still in mourning over all these babies being gunned down by the people who are supposed to protect us. It goes back to what I have been saying all along is the Hip Hop’s Dilemma – the common distasteful physical, emotional and/or mental trauma people are experiencing when coming in contact with members of the Hip Hop community.
I am beginning to think that the Hip Hop Dilemma may need to be classified as a psychological disorder. This is a testament to the power of Hip Hop and its ability to generate transformative energy through the music and lifestyle so much so people could kill us.
The common factor in most of these situations is the victims are all young Black males who resemble a stereotype. In most cases, a Hip Hop stereotype. Hip Hop is not the cause but it’s the stimulus that is triggering these reactions. The images that are created around who and what a ‘thug” in the Black community looks like is drawn from the images usually associated with Hip Hop.
The old expression that “We all look alike” still applies today. How can someone who is ill- informed about the culture differentiate between someone who is doing crime and someone who is just dressing to make a statement. Let’s admit we both need to make some changes in how we roll.
We can clearly see when someone in our community is up to no good vs. someone who is getting jiggy with it. But can everybody else? If no one was doing any crime, and no one looked like and carried out criminal activities, then we couldn’t lose. But I think the part we don’t want to acknowledge is the element in our community that is giving these people the impression that their lives are in danger. And that is the common denominator on how they are winning these cases.
The misunderstanding is White America thinks we are ignoring the crime that is going on in the streets and then raising hell about the officers who work to protect the community and ‘accidentally’ kill one of our children. They don’t understand why we don’t protest all Black lives lost with the same vigor we are protesting police killings. Their question to us is: Why aren’t you raising hell about the 50 people who got killed by their own people between the Eric Garner and Michael Brown verdicts? They lives matters, too.
To some in the Hip Hop community, the deaths of Eric and Big Mike are casualties of war – collateral damage – because they think we are living in a kill or be killed war zone. Their confusion over our lifestyles generates repressed feelings and these feelings are exploding and creating these situations. The argument from much of White America is yes we need to fix the police problem, but we also need to fix this Black-on-Black crime problem. And they are right.
They are using the law against us and we have to be smart and strategic about our moves. The pressing fear has lit a fire, now we are afraid of one another. If we got all this strength in numbers, it’s time to turn to our young men and women in our community and say enough is enough. Stop the killing so we have a leg to stand on when someone violates a fellow Citizen of Hip Hop. If we are going to hold everybody else accountable let’s attack the crime problem with the same vigor we are changing the criminal justice system. Let’s talk that tough talk to ourselves and stop the infighting, selfishness, backstabbing and killing.
We have a clear vision about what fairness in the criminal justice system should look like. Let’s also have a clear vision of education system. Let’s get our children up to speed to compete with the rest of America. It’s not enough to ask the police to be more understanding of our culture. We need to be more understanding of ours and others’ cultures and more vigilant protecting our children on all fronts. Don’t just tell me Black lives matter, show me.
People have lost respect for who we are as a people; they know our bark is bigger than our bite. People are not always reacting to our children out of pure racist behavior. Rather, they are reacting because of what they are being trained to think about us. Let’s use this momentum as a spring board for resurrection. Let’s plan new goals for our community.
Let’s look like we think, and let’s play like we win.
December 18, 2014
By Julianne Malveaux
NNPA Columnist
“I can’t breathe,” gasped Eric Garner, again and again and again. “I can’t breathe,” he said, as several police officers were on top of him, choking him, pushing his head onto the concrete sidewalk. The man was not resisting arrest; he simply had the temerity to ask a police officer not to touch him. And because he was allegedly selling loose cigarettes, the life was choked out of him.
No one tried to help him or stop the vicious assault, which was ruled a homicide by the coroner. Emergency medical respondents offered no assistance. Eric Garner’s last words, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe” ought to motivate all Americans, not just African Americans, but Americans of conscience to breathe life and energy into a movement for justice.
Breathing ought to be a simple thing. Air in, air out. It’s not so simple when one’s neck is being choked. Not so simple when one’s spirit is being choked. The image of Eric Garner’s neck in a chokehold, the image of at least four White police officers on top of him, is galling. All the more galling is the invisible choking of spirit that comes when people cannot breathe, cannot speak, and cannot respond to injustice.
To put this in a historical context, how many were as free to speak as Ida B. Wells was when she fought against lynching. Even in her freedom, Wells was threatened and run out of Tennessee. But others feared to speak about lynching for fear of being lynched themselves. Can’t breathe. Think of the many African Americans who have served in our armed forces, treated unfairly, serving nonetheless, often silent.
How can any of us breathe in an atmosphere of compounded injustice? How can we breath in an atmosphere of hypocrisy, when justice has never been blind? We live in a nation where a 12-year-old boy, Tamir Rice, is shot because he has a toy pellet gun that wasn’t even pointed at police. Hard to breathe when video makes it absolutely clear that it was not necessary for Daniel Panaleo to place Eric Garner in a chokehold. Hard to breathe when a grand jury comes to an incomprehensible decision, one that defies common sense – and what we saw with our eyes.
Difficult to breathe when an elected official, Congressman Peter King (R-NY), chooses to blame Eric Garner’s health for his death. “If he had not had asthma, and a heart condition, and was so obese, almost definitely he would not have died from this,” King told CNN’s Wolf Blitzer. King failed to note that use of the chokehold was banned by New York Police Department in 1993. Instead, there is no shame, no condolence in his insensitivity and ignorance. Can’t breathe.
Whether he is svelte or obese, carrying a briefcase or a bag of skittles, wearing a Hermes suit or a hoodie, behaving respectfully or rudely, a Black man’s safety cannot be guaranteed, especially when a White police officer is involved. The mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts and wives of these men hold their breath, cannot breathe, except to pray for the safety of their loved ones. Would the system be fairer if a White man walking down Park Avenue had the same fears? Would the protests look different if those who were massacred looked different?
Can’t breathe has become a metaphor for the African American condition, juggling the space between hopes and despair, between progress and regress. Who would have thought police violence against African American men would so visibly escalate at a time when our nation’s leader is an African American man. Can President Obama breathe, or is he in a figurative chokehold when he parses words about the murders of Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and little Tamir Rice? Our president faced protest when he criticized James Crowley, the White police officer who arrested Harvard Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. in his own house in 2009. Now, Obama offers measured words in response to the outrageousness of grand jury failure to indict.
Attorney General Eric Holder has been less measured in his comments. The day after the Staten Island grand jury exonerated Daniel Panaleo for his murder of Eric Garner, Holder announced Department of Justice’s findings of excessive force by the Cleveland Police Department. Perhaps the Cleveland consent decree will be a first step toward cleaning up excessive police action around the country.
Eric Garner did not have to die. He did not have to stop breathing. Did his last breath bring life to a movement, or did he gasp that last breath in vain?
Julianne Malveaux is an author and economist based in Washington, D.C.