I have been writing since I was twelve and had my first byline, in the school paper, at fourteen. This is the first time I have written anything to which I cannot sign my name. My mother would be mortified; my neighbors would be furious, my sister would stop speaking with me. Why? Because I want to tell the truth.
What prompted me to write this was seeing Anita Hill sitting in court during the Simpson trial. She sat with the prosecution. It brought tears to my eyes. I love Anita Hill and have always wished I could know her. I know we could be friends. I respect her integrity and have no question whatsoever that she was telling the truth about Clarence Thomas. She is a beautiful, highly intelligent and articulate woman. She is also very brave. I remember watching the Thomas hearings and looking at Thomas and thinking, "What a slime." So, yes...I do believe Anita Hill and feel terrible about what she was put through. I also wonder what would have happened if Thomas had been white. I do not think he would now be sitting on the Supreme Court. It was not that Hill accused a man of misconduct, it was, I believe, a "no no" for a Sister to not only accuse a Brother, but to do so publicly. And, see, this makes me mad. Perhaps I am naive, but at the age of thirty-seven I still believe in fairness, justice and right. I remember Clarence Thomas suggesting that the hearing was racist and I remember thinking, "Darn right, it is racism; inverse racism. You're a sleezeball but she is not supposed to tell on you because you are black" If he had been Robert Packwood, there would have been no problem.
So there was Anita Hill, still so lovely and so composed, sitting behind Christopher Darden (and remember how Johnnie Cochran was always accusing Darden of being a racist because he dared prosecute OJ). She was obviously making a statement because she was sitting on the prosecution side of the courtroom. I wanted to reach into the TV and give her a hug.
I too believe OJ is guilty. But, unlike Anita Hill, I am not brave enough to admit it publicly. I feel this constant fight inside me: I believe the DNA tells the tale and while I have no illusions about the LAPD not being racists, there are still two people dead and one would have to be an ostrich to not at least entertain the logical possibility that the jealous husband, known for his previous violence, his acknowledged arrogance and possessiveness would have/could have done it. But we, the black community are supposed to shut our minds to the evidence and march behind the slippery voice of Johnnie Cochran and scream, "innocent" simply because OJ is black.
I wish I were Anita Hill. I wish I could stand in front of a TV camera and say, "I am a woman and as a woman I hate the idea that a husband, especially one who has been constantly unfaithful to his wife, could be so angry at the idea of his wife, perhaps, finding someone else, so much an animal, that he would kill this beautiful woman, the mother of his children, and this handsome young man, Ron Goldman. And I hate the idea that anyone who would dare suggest he did this is a traitor to his/her race."
Johnnie Cochran's white mistress (Does this surprise you? It did not surprise me!) told a news reporter that Cochran admitted to her, "Give me one black juror and OJ will not be found guilty." Remember when Shapiro said they would not play "the race card." Hah! My hero has always been Barbara Jordan. There is no one, I believe, who has more intelligence or integrity than this woman. I remember when she went to Washington and a reporter asked her if she felt discriminated against because she was black. Ms. Jordan laughed and said, "No, but ask me if I feel discriminated against because I am a woman. The answer to that is a decided yes."
Perhaps that is one of my "problems." I feel as much a member of my sex as I do of my race. As a woman, the OJs and the Cochrans and the Thomases of the world repulse me. I would not care if they were orange or purple. But, I am not allowed to say so.
There are many things I am not allowed to say. I have seen blacks yell "police brutality" when police officers try to arrest a young punk who, an hour earlier, had pulled a gold chain off an old lady's neck, almost sending her to her death on the subway tracks. Police brutality? I have seen the black community apologize for rapists, killers and drug dealers because they had a bad childhood. Sorry, but my sympathy is for the victims. I am tired of it. I am tired of the fact that we turn our backs and refuse to ask people to be responsible and behave humanely to each other. There is an old saying that "if you don't admit it is broken, you won't get it fixed." Poverty has never been an excuse for hurting each other.
Three years ago, I moved from Boston to Florida. It was the first time in my life that I got to know Haitians. I am a cheerleader for the Haitian community in Florida. They are the hardest workers, the most family-oriented people I have ever met. There are both fathers and mothers in almost every family. They do not use food stamps or go on welfare. They work and they save and they buy houses. They bring over brothers and sisters and get them jobs. Am I generalizing? Yes, but trust me that this is a very fair and accurate generalization. I wish more American blacks behaved and thought as these people do.
There is a double standard in the black community. Like everyone else, I was appalled at the first Rodney King trial. What was the jury thinking? My white friends, and yes, I have white friends, however, were equally outraged. Everyone I knew was outraged. But where was the anger at the Reginald Denny trial? Where was the outrage that these young men kicked and beat and threw bricks at an innocent man and almost killed him? I heard no outrage from the black community. It was the circumstances? the mood? The "mob mind" that did it, not the individuals. And most members of the black community thought this was fair. I was appalled. The KKK used exactly the same justifications when they used to lynch us.

I am neither light skinned nor very dark. I am a comfortable warm coffee color. I had no confusion growing up as to who or what I was. If I could pick anyone to look like it would be Toni Braxton not Sharon Stone. My parents are still together after forty-seven years of marriage and my father managed to send all four of us to college on a bus station security guard's salary...not a large salary at all.
But, I learned early on that one never said anything negative about a black person or black people in general. We had to stand united and deny, deny, deny. Sure, at the dinner table, my father would discuss the neighborhood ne'er-do-wells and shake his head in disgust. Publicly, however, it was a different story. They were simply the victims of the white society.
My Italian friends cringe at Mafia associations; my friend Beverly, who is Jewish, says her mother still gets upset that the Rosenbergs, who went to the electric chair as spies, were Jews. But us? If he is black, he is innocent...even when we know he's guilty.
As I was growing up, the pervading attitude was this: since "the man" (white society) was always oppressing us, always putting us down; we had to stand together and support each other. We could not ever suggest that a black person was bad; he was simply a product of that oppression. It is not a coincidence that we refer to each other as Brothers and Sisters. We are one family. If we don't actually like another black person, the least we can do is show respect and admiration for a fellow oppressee. Prejudice against a group will almost always promote closer ties within the group. To ask someone, however, to blindly accept what is truly reprehensible behavior by some of us, is, I believe, going way beyond the idea of brotherhood or sisterhood. It is this "excusing" of the worst of us,that, I believe, has in many ways helped perpetuate the high dropout rate, the high crime rate, the drug abuse among our young and the high rate of teenage pregnancy.
Yes, I know, we were brought here in chains against our will. I also know very well that prejudice and oppression against blacks does exist. I also know that the difference between American blacks and other minority groups is the difference in responsibility expected. Most immigrants learned to use the public school system to realize the American dream; most of us learn that this school system discriminates; that they don't give "culture free" tests and if one of the young bros drops out, it is because the teachers didn't try hard enough to reach him. Where is the responsibility to the self?
Within the black community there is too much denial. I remember once, in junior high school, we were taken to a museum to see a traveling exhibit of photographs of Harlem. There was an uproar in the black community about these photos, which I thought were beautiful. They showed slums. They showed poverty. There were many people in the black community who felt that these photos were a putdown of blacks. But Harlem is a slum and there is poverty and people are selling drugs on Lenox Avenue. Don't deny it; if it is ugly, let's change it.
I recognize the damage done by broken homes, but the issues have to be addressed from both sides. While we work towards saving young people, keeping them off drugs and in schools, we also have to admit that there are people in our community who should be locked up, taken off the streets and punished for hurting the rest of us. Most victims of black crimes are not white, but black. We should be the ones taking these people off the streets instead of blaming white society.
Has the white society hurt us? Of course it has. But, is the answer to sit around for another two hundred years and bemoan the fact that we were brought here in chains and against our will? How will that help us?
I have a friend in New York, a Brother named Mohammed. He runs an alternative school for street kids who have dropped out of school. He told me once that it made him sad that so many black parents lend credence to the thought that white teachers and white schools have nothing to teach black youth. "Why don't they understand that schooling is the key? It is free. It is the way out and the way up. I have to re-program these kids. I have to show them that they can succeed and that education is the way to do that."
Look at our schools. My sister-in-law went to City College in New York. It was free, but you needed, at that time, about a 90% average to get in. It was a fabulous school and she felt it was an honor to be there. Look at it now. The black community demanded open enrollment. Any one who wanted to go to college should be able to enroll. What happened to the great opportunity? The dropout rate is unbelievable. The standards have gone down. It is no longer a fabulous school and we did this. We did not use the great chance we were given.
My friend Trudy's mother came to the United States, at the age of three, from Poland. Polish was spoken at home, not English and her parents neither read nor wrote English. They still speak very little English, even after forty years.
When Trudy started first grade, her mother did not know one word of English. But this child and her brothers were told, "We came here so you could be somebody. We came here because in this country no one knows who your father or mother are and no one cares. You can be anything and do anything."
These children did not cut school. These kids did not cuss their teachers. These kids went to college and became professional people. Yet they were poor. Five kids in a three room apartment. Five kids with parents who did not speak English. What advantage did these kids have that American blacks do not? The white society around them was at least as "foreign" and indifferent to them as the white society that black children face every day.
I know there are people who will read this and think I hate my people and culture. If you do, you are so wrong. I love being who I am and where I come from. Everything I have written comes from love and caring. A good mother does not deny her child is stealing; she admits he is stealing and then teaches him why it is wrong to steal. A good mother knows that mothering is not winning a popularity contest, it is not saying, "Everything you do must be wonderful my child because I love you." Being a good mother is understanding the responsibility of bringing into the world, a productive and responsible adult.
This is what we aren't doing and what we must. If Clarence Thomas is an insult to women, let's applaud Anita Hill. If OJ killed his wife and her friend, let's lock him away for ever. Let us not pretend that blacks are always good and always innocent. This makes about as much sense as proclaiming that blacks are all bad and all evil. Someday, I might be able to write this and sign my name. For now, just sign me "a woman who loves her people but is very concerned."

Gail Martin

could be the fifth member in "Waiting to Exhale". She relates to Harry Belafonte, not Dr. Dre. Though she never forgets she is black, she thinks of herself first as a woman, a wife, a mother and a child of God.

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