News (Media Awareness Project) - US: OPED: Male'Role Models' Behind Bars Are A Sad Reality |
Title: | US: OPED: Male'Role Models' Behind Bars Are A Sad Reality |
Published On: | 1998-07-10 |
Source: | San Francisco Chronicle (CA) |
Fetched On: | 2008-09-07 06:27:40 |
MALE'ROLE MODELS' BEHIND BARS ARE A SAD REALITY
I SUDDENLY REALIZED a few days ago that something is terribly wrong with
the growing numbers of young children visiting their parents in prison. It
was a Sunday that I had the misfortune to visit a relative incarcerated in
the local jail. There, I saw many young black women holding their
children's hands as they waited in long lines to visit a relative, friend
or spouse. Strangely, the children acted as if they were headed to an
amusement park or picnic.
I watched them waiting, fidgeting and wandering about the sterile, lifeless
waiting area. This was the first time I had felt powerless in a long time.
I began to question everything, even the value of empowerment.
During the past five years, since I've been writing about these issues, I
have conditioned myself to perceive every situation from an empowered
perspective, but somehow I could not see it within the children. I wondered
if they thought jail was a natural place to see their fathers. If so, what
did this do to their image of black manhood?
When I observed a little boy holding his mother's hand, I wondered if he
would ever overcome the stigma of talking to his father on a telephone
while separated by a hard, thick glass partition. I looked into his eyes
nestled between a face etched with a scowl. That's when I realized none of
the children were smiling or laughing loudly.
They were orderly like everyone else who enters a prison or jail. It's a
strange feeling. When you walk into one of these places, you immediately
become a part of the culture. When you are in this environment, it is
difficult to imagine any of the visiting children becoming doctors,
scientist lawyers, writers, artists, bus drivers, salespersons, etc. It is
also difficult to imagine them achieving greatness without someone giving
them the love and training necessary to nurture the seeds of greatness
already in their consciousness.
Although I know from an empowered perspective that it is possible to
overcome all adversity, I wonder who in America really cares about these
children. I asked myself who will help them to become empowered? Who will
teach them about manhood? Furthermore, I believe what I saw in Oakland
happens every visitor's day in Philadelphia, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago
and everywhere there are jails and prisons.
Sundays are the time when many people attend church and pray to God. I
wonder if these churchgoers mention the small children who visit their
parents in jail while singing and praying.
Similarly, like most adults, I read about organizations giving
scholarships, and I listen to the welfare and affirmative action debates,
but it is the silence and complacency among many African Americans that
bothers me the most. Although, I realize there are many black children who
have stable family environments, the children who visit their fathers in
prison are the ones who need us to speak loudly on their behalf. Sure, we
talk about the gangs, drive-by shootings, drugs and so on, but we seem to
ignore the children who have powerless inmates as role models. Why do we
expect them to shed these images and become empowered adults?
At present, we have the greatest opportunity to develop a value system that
teaches young black children how to empower themselves while living as
victims of color, status and circumstance.
We cannot allow society to condition us to perceive these children simply
as victims. If we do, then they will become like the homeless people we
ignore every day.
That's why we must create a new empowerment paradigm to address the needs
of young children who have imprisoned parents. So I am asking every African
American adult in this country to visit a jail or prison in 1998. 1 want
everyone to look into the eyes of children who have the potential to
express empowerment. Once you see their faces, I'm sure you will agree:
There's something terribly wrong here. Fortunately, we can make it right.
I SUDDENLY REALIZED a few days ago that something is terribly wrong with
the growing numbers of young children visiting their parents in prison. It
was a Sunday that I had the misfortune to visit a relative incarcerated in
the local jail. There, I saw many young black women holding their
children's hands as they waited in long lines to visit a relative, friend
or spouse. Strangely, the children acted as if they were headed to an
amusement park or picnic.
I watched them waiting, fidgeting and wandering about the sterile, lifeless
waiting area. This was the first time I had felt powerless in a long time.
I began to question everything, even the value of empowerment.
During the past five years, since I've been writing about these issues, I
have conditioned myself to perceive every situation from an empowered
perspective, but somehow I could not see it within the children. I wondered
if they thought jail was a natural place to see their fathers. If so, what
did this do to their image of black manhood?
When I observed a little boy holding his mother's hand, I wondered if he
would ever overcome the stigma of talking to his father on a telephone
while separated by a hard, thick glass partition. I looked into his eyes
nestled between a face etched with a scowl. That's when I realized none of
the children were smiling or laughing loudly.
They were orderly like everyone else who enters a prison or jail. It's a
strange feeling. When you walk into one of these places, you immediately
become a part of the culture. When you are in this environment, it is
difficult to imagine any of the visiting children becoming doctors,
scientist lawyers, writers, artists, bus drivers, salespersons, etc. It is
also difficult to imagine them achieving greatness without someone giving
them the love and training necessary to nurture the seeds of greatness
already in their consciousness.
Although I know from an empowered perspective that it is possible to
overcome all adversity, I wonder who in America really cares about these
children. I asked myself who will help them to become empowered? Who will
teach them about manhood? Furthermore, I believe what I saw in Oakland
happens every visitor's day in Philadelphia, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago
and everywhere there are jails and prisons.
Sundays are the time when many people attend church and pray to God. I
wonder if these churchgoers mention the small children who visit their
parents in jail while singing and praying.
Similarly, like most adults, I read about organizations giving
scholarships, and I listen to the welfare and affirmative action debates,
but it is the silence and complacency among many African Americans that
bothers me the most. Although, I realize there are many black children who
have stable family environments, the children who visit their fathers in
prison are the ones who need us to speak loudly on their behalf. Sure, we
talk about the gangs, drive-by shootings, drugs and so on, but we seem to
ignore the children who have powerless inmates as role models. Why do we
expect them to shed these images and become empowered adults?
At present, we have the greatest opportunity to develop a value system that
teaches young black children how to empower themselves while living as
victims of color, status and circumstance.
We cannot allow society to condition us to perceive these children simply
as victims. If we do, then they will become like the homeless people we
ignore every day.
That's why we must create a new empowerment paradigm to address the needs
of young children who have imprisoned parents. So I am asking every African
American adult in this country to visit a jail or prison in 1998. 1 want
everyone to look into the eyes of children who have the potential to
express empowerment. Once you see their faces, I'm sure you will agree:
There's something terribly wrong here. Fortunately, we can make it right.
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