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Forty years later...

(CROSS-POSTED WITH THE OPPORTUNITY AGENDA'S STATE OF OPPORTUNITY BLOG)

One of the greatest values in a great leader is her or his dedication to serve others. Forty years following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., our country is obsessed in the raise for our next executive leader who will serve as President.

Dr. King preached once that the greatest leader was the one who was a servant. But what was truly great was that each and every one of us can be a servant, bringing about greatness in our own way.

Building a community that fosters opportunity for all can come when we all realize our potential to become a great leader. We might not have the strobed flashes of a photographers camera bearing down on us; nor might we have the motorcades and state dinners. But we do have each other. And when we serve one another, we see first-hand how a community that focuses on others, rather than the individual, can make the dreams that King dreamed come true.

Recently, The Tavis smiley Show on PRI focused on the current state of poverty in the United States, part of which included Alan Jenkins, Executive Director for The Opportunity agenda (see post from March 31, 2008). The program, "Below the Line," comes forty years after Dr. King's Poor Peoples Campaign, one of his greatest dreams of civil disobedience that was not realized until shortly after his death. Smiley's series offers a solid look into the issues faced by poor Americans, particularly people of color.

Listening to smiley's series, in conjunction with the many King speeches that are available for free on line, is a good source for motivation on how we can all better serve our community. It's going to take more than an executive decision from the White House to end poverty in this country. So, in addition to asking our next president how we can solve these problems, we should also ask ourselves how "we" can solve these problems. Thus, on this forty-year anniversary of Dr. King's death, what can you do--even on the smallest level--to bring about opportunity for all?

Where lines cross

The northern portion of Manhattan Island is a unique part of New York City. Where most maps end at 125th Street, Harlem, there remains a whole 99 blocks of walk-up tenements and six story apartment buildings as far as the eye can see. And in this sea of densely populated forest of concrete and brick, streets begin to lose that unique New York numbered grid that most people think of when traveling to Manhattan. Lines on maps intersect. And at their cross-roads, neighborhoods are fused together by diverse ethnicity and race.

Inwood, to the furthest north on the island, has the lingering aftertaste of an old Irish neighborhood, now almost completely Dominican, while on its eastern edge are the Dyckman Homes, a public housing project where basketball great Karim Abdul Jabar started playing hoops.

To the south of Inwood is Washington Heights, one of New York's historic Jewish neighborhoods, while home of Mother Francis Cabrini's remains, a popular Italian American Catholic saint, and also the neighborhood where Malcolm X was assassinated.

These neighborhoods are a classic example of both the achievements and the obstacles that have lined the pathway of American opportunity. I was reminded of this yesterday evening while waiting in line at a pharmacy near my apartment in Inwood. Ahead of me, a customer and employee began to get into a fight over incorrect change on an item that was returned. The tension between the two women was heightened when both exchanged disparaging remarks to one another. One person was an immigrant who had difficulty speaking english, while the other person was African American. Their insults rang throughout the store as the customer stormed out with her bag firmly clutched in her hand. And I stood next in line, shaken by the anger between the two.

The lines between racial and ethnic divide are far greater than the lines on the maps that have tried to historically identify them. Eduardo Porter, March 31 New York Times, raised several powerful observations on the difficulties faced when trying to overcome racial and ethnic divides in the United States. Porter stresses the need to find common values to overcome a reluctance that people, in general, have toward overcoming racial preference. Porters angle focused on the abandonment of community support when encountered with diversity. This is ironic, he notes, since we are all essentially immigrants in this country; some choosing to leave the security of their homes to follow their dreams, while others having their dreams destroyed, forced here not by choice but by chains. Yet, in both of these two powerful narratives, the story of American opportunity became the catalyst for families to labor in hopes of greater freedom for their children.

When lines clash, rather than intersect, the road map of our future becomes tangled in our own stubborn humanity, an unhealthy pride that fuels our ignorance and drowns our hope in opportunity for all. It's this unhealthy pride, focusing only on the "me" that keeps us from reaching "We The People."

It's going to take a community to erase the racial and ethnic lines that divide our neighborhoods. Even in neighborhoods that are diverse, there are still lines drawn. And it's not until communities can come together that opportunity for all can fully be realized. Those neighborhoods that have been able to bridge their diversity have crossed these divides. These neighborhoods, like those surrounding downtown Brooklyn or Jackson Heights queens, demonstrate the harmony that can sound out when communities come together. And it is in that harmony where great change can come about; change that can leave us not feeling like we're stuck in line with noplace to go.

Is Georgia going back to the future?

Growing up in Atlanta, I always felt removed from the southern rhetoric that was fed to most southern children, about standing firm on states rights and being proud that you were a southerner. Run across other kids from towns like Portal or Valdasta, and tell them that you were from Atlanta, and they'd look you square in the eye and call you a Yankee.

I always thought this strange, since Atlantans saw themselves as the capitol for the New south. Though I'm struggling with even telling people I grew up in Atlanta, the home of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I say this after reading an article from the Tifton Gazette.

Apparently, March has been Confederate memorial month in Atlanta, and on March 5th, Ga. Gov. Sonny Perdue gave a proclamation honoring a former slave, Billy Yope, who apparently served for the Confederate Army during the Civil War.

As a child, I remember there still being Confederate Memorial Day, usually sometime during the end of April. I remember it was a holiday for state workers. The last time I can remember the state having it was when I went off to middle school, grade six (I'm sure it continued afterwards, but wasn't something I found interesting). That was the year that all Georgia students had to take a Georgia History class. The class was clearly bias toward a pro confederate stance, the textbook focusing more on the issue of state's rights, while glossing over the fact that slavery was a major factor, if not the factor, for a war that almost divided and destroyed our democracy.

After reading the article, I felt like I had been dragged back in time to the sixth grade, and forced to sit through the pro-confederate propaganda. Honestly, I'm greatly concerned that there is still a movement--to see the Civil War as not a war to end slavery, but a states rights arguement--that is strong enough to have the governor make a proclamation praising a slave for serving in the Confederate Army during confederate Memorial month.

I hope the historians don't let this one slip through the cracks. Those of us born in the South who were raised to see the horror in the past need to do what we can to stop such racist rhetoric that tries to hide in sheeps clothing.

I seldom use my blog as a vehicle to vent my hostility towards such injustice. But there's a lot more at risk here than having to endure the standard routine of redneck jokes when people learn I'm from the south. I'm going to have to google Jimmy Carter now, to see if he had any comments that could calm my anxiety after reading about Gov. Perdue.