Generations? A tale of two Black men

“It hurts when people look down on you or you go into an establishment to fill out an application or something like that and they’re looking at you all sideways. … Everybody is just so shaky when they are around young Black men. It’s sad. People see us and cross the street. It’s really sad. It has to come to an end because everyone in the Black community isn’t bad. We’re all not criminals.”

Avery Tillery, 29, of Bridgeport

During the past 12 months, I have made clear what I believe are the problems facing the Black community and what Black people need to do to fix some of the issues that affect our communities.

I have not spared words that I believe Black people should stop marching and turn their attention to their wallets and voting power if they are ever going to see any improvements.

But those are my thoughts and they are based on living long enough to recognize social patterns and, more importantly, social patterns that never change.

Since the guests on my podcast are people living in New Haven and Fairfield counties, I spoke with two Bridgeport residents during the past two weeks to get an idea how they feel about being Black in Connecticut and their future prospects.

I felt it was important to get their views because they are in their 20s and entering the prime working years of their lives. I was wondering whether they were hopeful for the future, whether they felt things were changing for the better or had gotten worse — and what they thought was needed for

Black people to have better lives in the Nutmeg State.

I first spoke with Sharaya Smith, who believes it starts with positivity about lineage.

“I think one of the most important things we need to do right now, is to get clear with identity as it relates to being Black and have people really start to look at what that means. ... So many people aren’t clear with our identity as Black people in America and so I believe that is where we should start.”

But it was my conversation with 29-year-old Avery Tillery that really struck a chord because, despite being more than twice his age, we had traveled similar paths as young boys.

I don’t care what color you are, low income is low income and when you are a boy being raised by a single mother, your only thought is to get out there and help ease her financial burden.

And while I recognize it is probably the same for all boys who are born poor, for the purpose of this column it is about the experience that many young Black boys face growing up: missing out on just being a kid.

“There were times when I was younger and I was in school … I didn’t have the money to do things that other kids were doing in school,” Tillery said. “When I got to high school, it cost $300 for a uniform to play basketball and stuff like that. I didn’t have $300. I had to use that money to put groceries in the house. You know what I’m saying? And help my mom pay bills and stuff like that.

“Maybe if I had access to more things, maybe I could have played ball, or did anything after school. I could have been part of the band or just anything. I really had no opportunity to do extracurricular activities because I was so busy working . ... I don’t think you should be responsible — I mean — have to worry about paying bills and helping mom out . ... Mom should be able to make enough money so she doesn’t have to struggle and rely on her kids.”

I remember those days well. My mother worked, too, but what she earned was not close to being enough — just like many single mothers today. There was no choice but to pitch in to help put food on the table.

I remember heading to the supermarket to help people carry groceries to their car. My goal was to earn enough money to buy a box of spaghetti, a can of tomato paste and a can of tomato sauce for dinner. And if I earned a dollar, I was in seventh heaven because I could also buy 25 cents worth of spiced ham (cut real thin, please) and a loaf of bread.

I have recalled those days many times but I never have expressed how angry I was that I had to do it — particularly because I had to do it so often — or how inadequate and weighed down I felt when I couldn’t bring home enough.

Still, that opportunity to make a little money was there, but as Tillery, who originally is from North Carolina, points out, a lot has changed for young Black teens since those days.

“There have been so many negative stereotypes put on the Black community, especially young Black men, they can’t even do those types of things anymore,” Tillery said. “You can’t go wait around a gas station and help someone pump gas or help somebody with their groceries at the grocery store because they’ll start accusing you of robbery and things of that sort. There is so much negativity.

“... When I first moved to Connecticut, I walked around with a shovel when I hit my first winter here. I thought I was going to make a little money shoveling somebody’s yard and stuff like that. Those people were really, really resistant to that. They were like, who is that Black guy with a hood on outside my house with a shovel? Is this the Reaper? I just want to shovel for a couple of bucks. You can’t do any of that anymore. We have to change those outlooks on our people. ”

But that is hard to do. Unlike white men, each Black man is looked on with suspicion for every criminal act or mistake made by other Black men.

“It’s really painful,” Tillery said. “It really hurts and it hurts deeply when you know you’re not that type of person and you’re just trying to be a good citizen and do what you can to feed your family, and do everything you gotta do as a man.

“It hurts when people look down on you or you go into an establishment to fill out an application or something like that and they’re looking at you all sideways. … Everybody is just so shaky when they are around young Black men. It’s sad. People see us and cross the street. It’s really sad. It has to come to an end because everyone in the Black community isn’t bad. We’re all not criminals.”

I know many people will read this column and start hurling blame about bad parenting and dragging out old refrains, such as “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” or “get an education.”

And that is true to a degree but we all know it is not that simple. And it is also a cheap cop-out leveled at Blacks that is unfair when nearly 60 percent of people born in the United States do not have college degrees — and they are not looked upon as useless.

This is not my typical Sunday column as I have added very little commentary but rather let the experience of two men from different generations tell the story.

And as you have read, the experiences of lowincome Black kids are similar, whether it is happening in the 1960s or the 2000s.

I can only hope when Tillery reaches my age and he is talking to a 29-year-old Black man, there is a different story to tell.

Generations? A tale of two Black men.