Old heads and young bloods

Recently, I attended a national gathering to discuss the crisis of Black men. A fellow panelist, a prominent businessman, made a startling declaration--no male with sagging pants or tattoos could show him a thing. I took the view that there was too much to teach our youth, and to learn from them, to dismiss them for their dress.

There's no denying that generational conflict has turned ugly. Older Black men routinely put young Black males down--for their clothes, their music and their corrupt values. Younger Black men protest that their elders are stuck in the past and lack appreciation for their contributions and struggles. The truth is that older and younger Black men have a lot to gain from each other.

At their best, older Black men possess a remarkable sense of elegance. Black male elegance often consisted of more than stylish dress. In earlier times, it was a protest as well against disparaging views of Black culture by ignorant or bigoted Whites. If Blacks were viewed as crude and barbaric, their dress would testify to their dignity and resilience. Black men who were forced to do menial labor during the week donned suits and ties on the weekend to play and pray.

That sense of style has carried over into the next generation, often without recognition. But something else has happened: Poor Black males who lack social support--and sometimes care at home--have covered up in clothes more suited to prison than the sanctuary or the boardroom. Sagging pants and oversized shirts are at once the sign of Black youth's alienation from their elders, an embrace of street values, a stop along the path to adulthood, and an ingenious way for a few of them to turn urban style into millions of dollars.

Besides that, thousands of Black youth reared on hip-hop enjoy well-being in corporate America. Sure, they dress for success, but that's because street style fueled an interest in Black culture that has created opportunity for lawyers, entrepreneurs and other professionals who eat from hip-hop's table. It's also proof that old-style elegance and new-style dress have been of great mutual benefit for the Black men who choose either.

Of course, older Black men dig their blues and jazz, their gospel and their soul--but so do a lot of younger Black men who hunger for real music that's not overproduced or technologically manipulated. And it's not lost on some old heads how the most conscientious tappers, including 2Pac, Chuck D and Nas, join politics and partying.

Nor should it be lost on us how we make demands of hip-hoppers that we rarely make of other artists. The argument in defense of artists who don't rap for a living is that at least they don't degrade women or flaunt social pathology in their art.

Misogyny and moral mayhem are surely reasons for concern--although that hasn't stopped too many folk from going to church, attending college, or working in the corporate world. Each of these arenas features these harmful traits in abundance. Admittedly, they're smoothed over and made far more subtle.

But that may be the ultimate sin of younger Black men in the eyes of their elders. In many instances, they just can't seem to finesse the ugliness and prefer to let it all hang out. For older Black men, that was a taboo. It's one thing to be a misogynist; it's another thing to celebrate it before the world. The older guys have a point: If you parade your vicious thoughts, you often fail to challenge or contain such beliefs. But the younger guys have a point, too: If you keep such views private, you're seduced into a false sense of moral superiority over those who struggle more openly with their flaws.

In the end, older and younger Black men need each other now more than ever to keep each other in check, to inspire the ongoing evolution of our culture, and to ensure the health of young Black boys in the future.

By MICHAEL ERIC DYSON, Author and Educator

COPYRIGHT 2006 Johnson Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning