WE CAN'T LET DIRE REPORTS SNUFF HOPES OF BLACK YOUTH

What am I to tell black children?

Every spring, I'm invited to speak at public school graduations. But
instead of being excited about participating in this rite of passage,
my stomach churns.

The news we hear regularly about black youth, especially males, is
not good. Too many of them drop out of high school. Too many of them
end up in the criminal justice system. Too many of them are toting
guns. Too many of them die before reaching 21.

Now, researchers are lamenting that Chicago public school students,
many of them black and Hispanic, who do go on to college take too
long to graduate.

Through research data and statistics, we are painting a portrait of
black youth that is so troubled, improving their lot in life can seem hopeless.

Yet when I step up to the podium on graduation day and look out at
the sea of caps and gowns; when I soak up the sight of mothers and
fathers, grandmothers and uncles who fill up the auditorium, I know
we are not hopeless.

Maybe what we really need is a moratorium on researchers digging into
the lives of black people. African Americans are drowning in negative
reports about the plight of black youth.

Put studies into perspective

It would be one thing if those reports triggered a real change in
social policies. But that's not the case. Instead of helping this
population, we've seen policy changes -- such as prohibiting a person
who has been convicted of a drug-related crime from obtaining
financial aid -- that make it even harder for young black men to
break the cycle of poverty.

Still, what pains me the most is that these negative reports --
particularly the ones that dissect black males -- rarely take into
account the environment in which these students grow up. The burdens
of the poor are usually summed up in a footnote explaining that they
live below the poverty line.

My parents sheltered me from our poverty.

In fact, I didn't know we were considered poor until I went to high
school and met people who lived "Out South" instead of in public
housing. We were kept clean. We had breakfast, lunch and dinner --
even if lunch was a mayonnaise sandwich. We may have been poor, but
we grew up with the sense that our parents cared about us.

But what does being an impoverished kid mean today?

Their problems are a lot bigger than not having a hot breakfast
before going to school. For many of them, the last thing on their
minds is turning in a homework assignment or studying hard enough to
bring home A's and B's. It's not that black people don't value
excellence. Of course they do. But there are black families that have
been left so far behind, they might as well be living in another country.

For instance, the recent stories about drug dealers giving out free
samples of what turned out to be tainted heroin on the South Side is telling.

The tainted drugs were apparently passed out in Englewood and in the
Dearborn Homes, a CHA public housing development. These are the same
areas with chronically bad schools. Daniel Hale Williams, for
example, is located in the Dearborn Homes development. It was such a
low-performing school, schools chief Arne Duncan ordered it closed in 2002.

Many of the same people who are selling and abusing drugs are the
same people who either are neglecting their children or have
abandoned them. Some of the abandoned children are being raised by
their grandparents, relatives or are in foster care. And, frankly,
some of these kids are struggling every day just to get to school in one piece.

When I put these negative reports about black youth into perspective,
I am encouraged by the kids who thrive despite their challenges.

Words of advice to graduates

What will I tell black children?

I will tell them that I was the first person in my family to graduate
from college -- and it took me 20 years to do it. I will tell them
that like a lot of other poor black people in my generation, no one
encouraged me to consider college, let alone apply to one. But a
college degree put me into a game I didn't know was being played.

Still, I will tell them that college didn't measure my intellect,
only my determination.

I will tell them that there is no shame in trying and trying again.

I will tell them that surviving a bad upbringing is one of life's
richest rewards.

I will tell them that poverty is a temporary condition, not a fatal disease.

I will tell them that they cannot judge themselves by someone else's
standards. They must set their own.

I will tell them that it doesn't matter how long it takes to obtain a
goal; what matters most is reaching for it.

I will tell them, that if they can't lift a friend up, don't let the
friend drag them down.

Finally, I will tell black children they have the power to not only
change their own lives, but to change the conditions that have put
black life under a microscope.