The Destructive Nature of the Human Crab
By Kenneth Braswell
(October 19, 2011) I was listening to the voice of my 2 ½ year old son, and thought for a moment that one day he will look me in the eye and ask, “Why did you decide to work with dads?” Next to him will be my nephew who is now 4 years old and has only seen his father a few times. He’s going to mimic as he does now, my son’s words. “Yeah, Uncle Kenny, how come you spent so much of your life working with black men,” he’ll add. At that moment I will have to ponder the span of my life and come up with an answer that won’t bore them or one that will send me to tears.
At that moment before answering their questions, I’ll have to remember the days I spent away from them traveling around the country and nights they went to bed not seeing my face or hearing my voice. I’ll also have to remember my humble beginnings of forging into a work, which it too was in its infancy. I’ll also have to ponder the many faces of men I’ve looked into with the hopes that something I said would change their lives. Then there are the voices of mothers who scrambled for answers on how they would manage raising children without their fathers around.
Oh and there were the nights I sat in the car outside my house speaking to a father in crisis or an organization seeking advice on how to further their work with men. Somehow in the same moment, I’ll think of all the vacations I could have taken my family on if I had only not spent so much of our personal income on following this dream. I’ll see the look on my wife’s face all the times; I’ve said we have to slow down on spending, because money is tight. There’ll be many other things I’ll think about in the moment before answering the question. Then upon all that pondering, I’ll say something witty like, “well you know boys, there are many kids just like you who didn’t have a father and role model in their lives. I simple did what I had to do in order to give children the best possible chances in their lives. I believed that the way to do that was to make sure they had a dad in their lives too.”
We would then embrace in a hug, the music would play and we’d go skipping off happily ever after. Then another reality would sink in. The disappointing reality of how the nature of human crabs attempted to keep my vision in the confines of their own small minds. In this thought process I would think about how I fell victim to a deeply rooted hatred of black men by other black men who felt they were more privileged and deserving than I. I would then think about the many nights my family believed I was tired, however just depressed over how rabid a man can become if he believe somehow you have received something he believes to be his. I would have to tell my boys that their good intentions might not match up with the world’s perception of them. That sometimes the greater good of the work, won’t matter. I’ll then say to them, it’s the crab in the barrel effect. Huh!? “According to the Urban Dictionary; a syndrome where a group of like situated people hurt those in their community attempting to get ahead. Like when harvesting crab, the crab as a group will pull down any crab that starts to climb out of the barrel in an attempt to be the first out of the barrel that holds them in, hence crabs-in-a-barrel.”
For me that moment will be a sad and painful one. I’ll have to think about whether I tell them everybody who calls themselves a friend can’t be trusted. I’ll have to tell them to be careful about what they say in innocence and honesty, because it could be used against you. I’ll also have to help them understand that if it slithers like a snake, it is. I’ll end that conversation with, “this is all a part of the good work God would have you do on HIS behalf.” With that said, I’ll end, “the fire comes along with the glory.
If my boys are anything like I was growing up; they won’t understand any of it. Because learning comes through knowing and wisdom comes through experience. At this moment in time, I’ll remember the sound of their little voices asking the original question, “Why did you do the work?” Not only will I have to answer them for the sake of their learning, but I will have to answer for the sake of my confirmation to myself. Because someone needs to know why one would stand in the midst of fire for someone else’s liberties and freedoms. As a black man, I’ll need to hear myself say, why I worked so hard to address the issue of fatherless in a community resistant to the notion that a black father has value. I heard Cornell West once say in an interview with tears coming down his eyes, “There is nothing more difficult than helping a people who hates themselves.” I would add to that, “and the leaders who claim to love, but hate them just as much as a reflection of themselves.”
My tombstone won’t tell the story of why I worked so hard to restore my community. It won’t tell the stories of how black men rallied to destroy my work or how people despised my blessings. Nor will it talk about the true friends that stood in the gap when I began to doubt myself. It won’t speak to my faith, my work, my effort, my dedication, my serious intent, my suffering, my pain or my motivation. It won’t even speak to my end. It won’t say anything to the average person passing by who happens to glance at the inscription.
It will say this; that from this day forward crabs are in for the BIGGEST fight of their life. Make a declaration on your life TODAY, not to allow haters to determine your destiny or define your limits. You have the ability to make a change in the world. People are depending on you to triumph over your oppressors, detractors and people who undermine your value. It’s ok to stop and lick your wounds for a minute, but don’t allow that to be your perpetual state. With regards to black people, we must break the chains of psychological slavery. Call it out for what it is. Be brave in your conviction and steady in your stance. TODAY is my “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired,” day. Let it be yours too. Silence indicates to the enemy that you believe you don’t exist or you don’t matter.
To people who need you; YOU MATTER!