Before dreadlocks and cornrows, there was the Afro. The Afro was 15 percent hairstyle and 85 percent political statement. Armed with my Afro, I was a true “brother.” I grew my first ’fro in 1971. I was a bad–ass 13 year-old Denver kid just itching to help free the oppressed—Angela Davis, the Chicago Seven, even the Jackson Five. When I got into Harvard College in 1977, my dad made it clear—there would be no second mortgages to fund my eastern pilgrimage. Meanwhile, Uncle Sam offered to provide m-o-n-e-y if only I would join Air Force R-O-T-C. I was torn. How could I be a true brother in a military uniform, shorn of my Ultra Sheened crown? For a week, my stomach went through moves that would put the brothers on Soul Train to shame. However, the allure of Ivy League chic was too seductive to resist. Two days before I left for Boston, I went to Ray’s House of Hair and ordered the military cut.
Stripped of my ’fro, I was sure I was marked for excommunication from the brotherhood. I truly believed that everything in America was about race. Therefore, all my decisions—where to go to school, who to date, what profession to enter—rested, on some level, on race stuff.
I shudder to think how often I let “race stuff” skew my decision-making process. While I was in college, I supported Edward Brooke, a black Republican senator from Massachusetts. I liked his politics and I liked his style. Yet I worried. Could a true brother be a Republican? According to one wag, a black man voting Republican is like a chicken voting for Colonel Sanders. Could a brother be “down” and have a white wife? Many folks, especially African-American women, will privately (and some, not so privately) say hell no. I am ashamed to admit that I have almost let such narrow thinking about skin color trump my heart’s desire.
Today, I have no ’fro (not that I could grow one if wanted I to), I have voted for Republicans, and I have a terrific, thoughtful wife, who just happens to have blond hair and blue eyes. If that means my “brother card” gets revoked, so be it. Over the years, I have learned that being a real brother is not as important as being a real man. Real men think for themselves and live with the consequences of their decisions.
American politics is like a big engine that runs on the fuel of self-interest. Race, gender, party labels are important additives to the fuel mix. The political engine actually runs smoother, the richer the mix. However, the political engine will not run at all without a strong base of self-interest. Failing to acknowledge that group identity is a critical component of self-interest is naive. But believing it to be the basis of self-interest is downright stupid.
Consider the recent ouster of Denny Green from the Minnesota Vikings. Some think Green got canned for being an “uppity nigger”—confident, talented, and unwilling to kowtow to certain sports columnists.
A more likely explanation is this: Green forgot the first rule of American politics. Self-interest trumps racial loyalties. I think even Ray Charles could see that star receiver Randy Moss was out of control. For whatever reason, Green would not or could not take him to the woodshed. Vikings owner Red McCombs (a.k.a. “the Man”) apparently did not believe Green could look past the politics of race and focus on the politics of self-interest. Green’s fate was sealed.
Sounds cynical, doesn’t it? Perhaps. Self-interest drives most of us more than we might care to admit. Ten years ago, I chaired the Minnesota Minority Lawyer Association’s annual scholarship dinner. I wanted a military color guard to open the show. Some of the “brothers” threatened to boycott the event because they weren’t comfortable with the “military baggage.” The color guard got canned. In 1998, some of the same lawyers wanted to lure the primarily black National Bar Association convention to Minneapolis. The NBA wanted a military presence. Suddenly, waving the military colors became a very cool thing to do. The NBA got the color guard and Minneapolis got the convention. Hypocrisy? Perhaps. But I like to think it was the brothers getting hip to self-interest.
Clinton Collins, Jr. is a Minneapolis attorney and commentator.
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