“Your potential is bittersweet.” Kendrick Lamar, TPAB

Cousin David,

I don’t know how to write this letter. I’m more equipped with the experience of my traumas than I am equipped with knowledge. And yet I find myself addressing you in this letter. You’re approaching a certain age where your body is no longer yours. Your life will become merely another doll in the claw machine, a mere object to be taken by someone bigger than yourself.

As a black educated male who has already shown signs of resistance to authority, I painfully admit that your life is in danger. In a world where the black of your body is both a target and a weapon, you will never be seen as a person. You’ve been born into the curse of being victimized. As with Tray- von Martin, any human error you commit will be seen as felon activity. Your face on the news will be your mug shot, but your face on the T-shirt will be a smile, and that will be one of the realities of the world after your death. I cannot come to you with the love and compassion of Baldwin, nor can I address you with the tone of Coates. Your youth brings me fear because you’ve seen more black deaths than black leaders.

You will be held to a different standard in this world. Every step you take, every breath you exhale, will be monitored. You will be constantly screened for negativity in hopes that the destruction of your body can be justified. That is what it means to be Black in America. We are the coal that will form diamonds under the pressure of police brutality, systemic oppression, and racism. You must be twice as good even though this guarantees nothing. You must be twice as patient and not allow justified anger to consume you. You must be their better half without ever being their worst.

And I apologize because already I have failed you. Despite my readings and the knowledge at hand, I must still hold you to the dominant, oppressive white standard. Despite being a man, your blackness is considered first. In this white patriarchy, even white women stand atop the backs of black men. Black men have gone from 3/5 of a man to being considered 1⁄2 of one. This, of course, is not progress. It is a failure of America to be true to its claim that All men are Created Equal. Our precious lives are taken as payment for this failure. We die before we even have a chance to live. As Ta-Nehisi Coates said, “The robbery of time is not measured in lifespans but in moments. It is in the last bottle of wine that you have just uncorked but do not have time to drink. It is the kiss that you do not have time to share, before she walks out of your life. It is the raft of second chances for them, and the twenty-three-hour days for us.”

What does it mean to us as black men that we are held to a white standard? Does it mean we may never succeed? Does it mean we may never actually progress in America? The answer to this question is both yes and no. As with Leo Africanus all the way to the modern-day Black man, blackness is removed as one comes closer to success. When one is held to a white standard of success, it only makes sense that “success” is whiteness. Assimilation to the extreme. America has shown us that one can be a successful person who happens to be black, but never the other way around.

That is the irony of racism. Despite being taught that blackness is irrelevant when one achieves success, it is a weapon of mass destruction when we do not achieve it. Time and time again, you will be held to the standard of Obama, of Oprah, of Tyler Perry, of Denzel, of Lebron, and of Black people to come. It is the standard within the standard. You are held to a standard of black success based on those who were held to a standard
of white success. It furthers the narrative of black inferiority, and for now, it is the reality of your life. Your blackness is your bullseye that you will forever walk with. And for now, there is nothing you may do about it. Your existence is your participation, and your compliance does not matter to the system. And this is the way of the world.

Your blackness is something to be proud of, David. It is a symbol of resistance, durability, swag, soul, and originality. It is the blueprint of all humanity, and it is the sun’s kiss. You are beautiful, as is your history. You come from two families that represent resistance and durability. Your African American family comes from a race of Americans who were given nothing but dirt, wood, steel, and seeds and created one of the most bomb cultures of all time. So much so that the original oppressors now envy us. Your Haitian family comes from a race of slaves who fought to become the first free black nation, battling their oppressors and showing us all what’s possible. It is in your blood to stand up, fight on, and succeed regardless of the many dimensions of hardship on your shoulders. As James Bald- win once said, “I know how bad it looks to- day, for you. It looked bad that day, too, yes we were trembling. We have not stopped trembling yet, but if we had not loved each other none of us would have survived”. I may not have stopped trembling inside, but nothing makes me happier than being myself. I would not trade my blackness, my culture, my soul, my-one-of-a-kindness, my sense of family-based solely on not be- ing the only black person in the room, my breakfast, dinner, or lunch, my history, my underdog story, for anything.

Look at your own family and see what I was raised on, and what you too will be raised on. I’m sorry you feel left out some- times, and that your constant traveling around makes it hard for you to create these bonds. I have grown with these people and we have shaped each other, shown each other how beautiful black can be, defying colorism, and defying sexism. We were all equals in each other’s eyes, and it’s something I hope you too can experience. I already see hints of hatred in you that are pushed onto you by broken people. Do not become broken like them. Find individuality in a solid community.

It is in this community of cousins and friends in the neighborhood that I discovered black issues. I recall days where I had to leave places early or hide in a room for fear that my blackness was a target. And I’ve begun to realize that while we try to fix the world, one person, at a time, people are also corrupted one person at a time. It is this equilibrium of one step forward one step back that breeds this feeling of hopelessness, because your efforts do not create change. I wanted to scream “FUCK!!” at the top of my lungs, but my breath would fall short because an absence of people never truly meant being alone. It is not something that you can see, but I carry you and all of my younger cousins with me at all times. And perhaps it is me holding myself to the standard of black people held to the standard. Maybe I want a new standard for you. I’m torn between letting you see the world as it truly is or living in this bubble of black role models. But regardless of the choice I make I will watch you in pain, and I will see you weak. And I’m not sure if I should focus on preparing myself for that moment, or focus on you.

I refuse to let you grow into the hateful and toxic man I once was. As I tell you of all these great men and their accomplishments, I urge you to educate yourself. How will you educate yourself and your peers past the point of being stuck in this dream of chasing mythical whiteness and white success? Again, I urge you to never stop educating yourself. Because it is in the comfort of your own knowledge that you will find yourself ignorant.

With love and fear,
Marcus