Today as I sat at Barnes and Noble sipping iced coffee and dreaming up stories to tell, my ears and later my eyes caught hold of three young black professionals. The oldest of the three was still in his twenties and they were dressed impeccably. The conversation was of instagram followers and gaining influence through social media and personally connecting with individuals who could advance them in their own careers. What they did for a living remains unclear. One spoke of models and friends booking modeling jobs for various types of magazines from ‘mainstream’ to plus size ads and shows in both genders. It felt much like the elder was advising the younger two on a great many subjects, but mostly on how and what it means to be a black man in this day and age.
I recognized the cadence of the conversation from some of the talks I had with my father as a child. I had two fathers, actually, and both fed me the same kind conversation filled with ideas of advancing the ideal black male image. That man is quiet and proud. He is strong of will and body, dressed in clothes that reflect a station unexpected of a black man until your very presence as a fixture in the community redefines that expectation. He is also a mentor. My ears still burn a little thinking of the ways I fell short of that goal. It felt good to see the ideal still promoted and advanced in such a way that even here in a desert peppered with so relatively few black faces it trickles down through the generations. I felt proud of my people and the tradition so few of us strive to carry on.