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This year’s
11th annual Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Unity Celebration
held last week at The University of Toledo’s Savage Arena
was anything but the sterile, lifeless and obligatory
ceremony that normally takes place at public observances for
the iconic civil rights martyr.
Hari Jones, curator for the African-American Civil War
Museum in Washington, D.C., gave arguably the most dynamic
and eloquent keynote address heard in the event’s 11-year
local history.
Yet, the highlight was the fresh creativity and electrifying
freedom of self-expression flowing through the youthful
voices of the new Toledo Combined Youth Choir, rap artist
Brieyon McBride and songwriter/singer Pedi McFly. All which
added a new flavor to the normally predictable rite.
At a time when too many of our children are dying too soon
from homicide, suicide and abuse or suffering the spiritual
death of depression, hopelessness, drug use and school
dropout, I left the festivities both encouraged and
energized.
Despite such slogans as “its all about the children,” our
actions indicate that young people are not a priority.
Instead, the old saying “children are to be seen and not
heard” has penetrated deep into our psyche. And once we are
no longer young ourselves, we refuse to listen to or see the
world through the eyes of young people. Rather, we
mistakenly feel that silencing youth somehow makes their
perspective illegitimate.
Do they sometimes challenge traditional opinions? Yes.
Do they see the world differently than adults? Yes.
However, we stifle their creativity, sometimes as early as
preschool, by forcing adult-focused outcomes upon them,
teaching to tests and being excessively critical or
critiquing youth as if our interpretations are the ONLY
correct ones. No wonder children often attempt to cover
their inner fears with the false mask of a hard exterior or
become slaves to insecurities such as body image or peer
pressure.
So, to see young people energetically stepping up to the
mike and strutting their floetry and harmonies or speaking
their minds and expressing themselves in creative ways, not
only brought a fresh perspective to what had become a
threadbare observance, but also resurrected hope and
confidence in our future.
What can the community do to keep the fresh fires burning
and ensure that this youthful potential is realized?
The phrase “it takes a village to raise a child” is more
than a cliche. As Homer Ashby (2003) stated, the physical
and psychological loss of children in the African-American
community requires more than the nuclear family to provide
the nurture, care and protection to help youth survive,
arrive at adulthood and reach their potential.
Since African -merican children are so vulnerable to the
death-dealing consequences of the “new black poverty,” the
responsibility falls upon the black community to adopt the
children around them whether they come from a
poverty-stricken single-parent household or a stable home
with an intact nuclear unit.
By adoption, I refer to the informal surrogate model of the
past where the “extended” black community undertook
responsibility to look out for and to look after the
interests of the children around us.
That system, of which author Nathan McCall (1994) described,
“It seemed that everybody was so nosy and bent on making
sure we didn’t get away with anything. It was only years
later, when black communities started falling apart, that I
understood the hidden blessings: It had built-in mechanisms
for reinforcing values and trying to prevent us from
becoming the hellions some of us turned out to be.”
Certainly the black church can provide this protection and
guidance even though black youth who are at greater risk are
outside the walls of the church. The community also has to
find a way to fund more formal mentoring and rites of
passage programming.
But taking a special interest in, watching out for and
becoming a source of encouragement for those children who
are near or come into contact with us, is something we each
can do.
Most importantly, it helps to understand that sometimes the
source of youthful rebellion can be traced back to the lack
of input, inclusion and the opportunity for young people to
find their own voice.
For when young people are allowed the space to play a
significant role and to speak in their own language, they
themselves are likely to respond as did the Toledo Combined
Youth Choir:
Hold on my brother don’t give up, hold on my sister just
look up;
There is a master plan in store for you, if you just make it
through.
You ain’t seen nothing yet. The best is yet to come.
Contact
Rev. Dr. Donald Perryman at
drdlperryman@centerofhopebaptist.org
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