D. Watkins - We Speak for Ourselves: A Word From Forgotten Black America

Additional Praise for

WE SPEAK FOR OURSELVES

We Speak for Ourselves is an ode to those black people who understand that the first place where so many of us honed our understandings of knotty U.S. racial politics was in an American city, or rural town, fashioned as a hood in the public imagination. Watkins writes with a profound love for the black forgotten that will compel all who read his timely words to never forget the black people and places so many cultural critics and thought leaders disremember with ease.

Darnell L. Moore, author of No Ashes in the Fire: Coming of Age Black & Free in America

We Speak for Ourselves is full of insight into the America that serves as grist for the American dream. Its pages are abundant with wisdom and wit, integrity and love, not to mention enough laughs for a stand-up comedy routine. Over and over again, I found myself saying yes, yes, hes right, and I ultimately finished feeling inspired to do better, to be more. D. Watkins proves once again why he isnt just a writer of the people but a peoples literary champ for the here, now, and tomorrow.

Mitchell S. Jackson, author of Survival Math: Notes on an All-American Family

Watkins anchors his new collection of essays in the voices, language, everyday realities, and dreams of black citizens.... The author... offer[s] deep critiques of the elitism and respectability that directly and indirectly censor voices.... A strong offering that brings nuance and multiplicity to readers attempting to decipher the black male urban experience while uplifting the stories, visions, and love that incubated a rising star.

Kirkus Reviews

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For Thelma Famma Gill, with love. I still hear you. Thank you for the foundation. And to my heart, Caron, may we use that same foundation to build a beautiful future.

One day I prayed to you and said if I ever blow, Id let em know The stakes, and exactly what takes place in the ghetto.

Jay-Z, Where Im From (1997)

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., The Trumpet of Conscience (1967)

Did you know there are different types of black people?

Hello, young man, a scholarly, Danny Gloverlooking guy laced in tweed said. Are you enjoying yourself?

Yes, sir, this is a nice function.

He slowly looked me up and down. I cleaned up wellin my opinion anywaybut I did look out of place. You can really tell the difference between those three-thousand-dollar tailored suits and my cheap, thin H&M getup. I swear, if I made one wrong move, the pants and jacket would split in half. The people here dressed as if they attended galas for a living. Every person was cleaner than the next. Silk, sheer pocket squares, printed bow ties, sparkly accessories, and pointy little shoes could be seen in every direction, sliding across the gleaming marble floor. Multiple planet-sized chandeliers hung above us as tuxedoed servers offered crab balls, cucumber sandwiches, and some other hors doeuvres.

What is your name, young man?

D.Im sorry, Dwight Watkins, sir.

Ooh, okay! he replied with a Kool-Aid smile, tilting his small oval frames to get a better look.

Watkins as in Watkins Ice?

No.

Watkins as in Watkins Security?

No, no. I laughed.

So, what does your family do? What is your line of work?

I told him I was in between jobs and my family worked at the places that hired them.

He frowned at me. All his nonverbal cues clearly said I wasnt the guy that he wanted to be talking to. Before I could get his name, he was already off meeting and greeting other guests.

I never knew there was a black elite until I was at an event for the black elite. We all know about rich black people like Oprah, Jay-Z, and Diddy, but theyre celebs. Im talking about a wealthy class of non-famous African Americans who own art galleries, development companies, law firms, and medical practices. Jobs that I didnt really see when I was coming up.

This event seems really nice, my friend Tia told me without blinking as we entered. Its the kind of place you need to be.

I am a back-alley-block-party, dinner-and-salad-fork-are-the-same type of guy, but Im also a good sport who is willing to hobnob with the dress-shoe crowd. Tia would always tell me about her new elite friends and about their parents being doctors, lawyers, architects, or the famous first black something in whatever field. She was constantly impressed by themtheir stories expanded her perspective and ultimately mine as I listened, trying to figure out a way to understand this world. The idea of black journalists, photographers, and legal millionaires who didnt hoop or rap was foreign.

Before heading to the event, I almost choked myself out trying to learn how to tie a tie from a tutorial on YouTubedude in the video talked way too fast and it sounded like he had hot food in his mouth. I wrapped the tie around my neck as if I was going to fix it before deciding to leave it in the car.

Tias artsy friend noticed us as soon as we entered and tugged her arm to make a few introductions. Ill be back. You are okay, right? she said as they drifted off. I nodded my head.

Can I get a double vodka with a splash of any type of juice? I said to the bartender. Just enough juice to change the color. Thank you, bro.

No need to thank me, broooo, we are not mixing drinks, he smugly replied, looking me up and down and up again before pointing to a menu.

You have to order off of this fixed list, thank you. I didnt trip, even though they had all the ingredients sitting outI was determined to not be that guy. So I ordered off the menu, left a tip, and looked for a wall to hold up but instead encountered the tweed-Danny-Glover guy.

When Tia and her friend made their way back over to me, I jokingly told them about the exchange. Her friend told us that the Danny Glover look-alike was a professor who gives commentary on race, poverty, and surviving as a person of color in America. A race and poverty commentator with nothing to say to an unemployed black man, go figure.

I have since seen him appear on TV shows after a couple of killings of unarmed black males. He shared the same not-all-cops-are-bad-so-strategic-protest-will-equal-reform perspective that dominates mainstream thought on the black experience and appears on the pages of the thousands of race books that drop every month.

Dont get me wrong, Im excited about the number of race books flooding the publishing industry. We have an endless collection of black narratives, letters to racist and nonracist white people, and sensitive stories with the goal of making everyone feel safe enough to discuss Americas problem with people of color. Contemporary black writers are hard at work defining the systemic issues that plague the African American experience, while our white counterparts are doing the sameswooping in as super-allies, schooling their lost friends on what it means to be black, and offering step-by-step lessons on acknowledging their own privilege. These projects are cool, but what happens once we finish reading all of the books on race in America?