Let’s be clear: I agree with Spence’s argument. But I’m not so sure I agree with his framing of it–again, this framing originates from Reed–not because the “policy is politically impossible in the current climate,” but because the argument isn’t framed in such a way to capitalize upon our current political climate. Call it cynical and pragmatic, but I suspect that much of the criticism to such a policy boils down to it being an “individual right.” As Reed wrote in 2004,

Higher education is a basic social good. As such, it should be available to all, without cost, who meet admission standards. The federal government, as the guarantor of social rights, should bear primary responsibility for providing free college for all.

That sort of language isn’t going to get much traction outside of the progressive set. But free college for all qualified individuals plays right into the rhetoric of “national security” and “global competitiveness.” There’s a way of framing a highly educated citizenry as the underpinning of national security and global competitiveness. In the immediate short run, this framing might be just as unlikely to gain support as the individual’s right argument, but long-term it might be more politically expedient.

But I will posit that the “post-blackness” concept continues to speak very specifically to the “talented tenth,” as Spence noted so forcefully during the Black History Month debate, and speaks much less so for the black underclass. “Post-blackness” is for a black meritocratic class that is afforded opportunity and access foreign to the black underclass. This is nothing new; as Spence notes, both white supremacists AND the black meritocratic class have historically employed blackness as a tool to hoard resources from the black underclass. “Post-blackness” doesn’t challenge social hierarchy nor does it enable a new model of social mobility for black Americans; instead, “post-blackness” continues to reinforce a very black and American tradition of individuals (and groups) competing over limited resources.

Quite frankly, I’m exhausted by the “post-blackness” conversation as it is presently constructed and articulated. I’d rather be having a critical discussion of social mobility and opportunity; this Salon.com piece on “America’s failed promise of equal opportunity” is a good start.

“Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.” – Frederick Douglass

Albert Ruesga, president and CEO of the Greater New Orleans Foundation, wrote a thought-provoking piece on moral imagination and philanthropy. Ruesga’s initial romantic idealization of foundation work reminds me of my tenure as a young nonprofit manager: I often analogize working in the nonprofit sector to rearranging seats on a sinking ship, though a more flattering—though just as cynical— analogy might be to bailing out water on a sinking ship. While it’s true that nonprofit professionals do more of God’s work than does Lloyd Blankfein, at some point you realize, as Ruesga wonderfully points out, that you serve two mutually incompatible constituencies: victims of social injustice and beneficiaries of the status quo (i.e. Lloyd Blankfein). This might be slightly discomforting to dogged pursuers of social justice—and again I admit it is overly cynical and exaggerated—but it doesn’t make it any less true.

Ruesga really speaks to—and attempts to address—the underlying factors that result in a demand for funding social services and affordable housing, and it’s a conversation focused on power and privilege; it’s a very uncomfortable conversation to have in the nonprofit sector. To effectively achieve social justice, there has to be some shifts in the power structure, and defenders of the status quo have no interest in supporting that sort of shift. And yet, financing for the nonprofit sector is almost wholly dependent upon the largess of beneficiaries of the status quo.

It accomplishes nothing whatsoever for the District of Columbia to encourage downtown land to be used as George Washington University buildings rather than offices or apartments.

Some see the piece as an unnecessary attack on religion. The title of the post (“America’s Church Subsidies”) certainly seems a bit inflammatory and there is some language used in the piece that is not particularly sensitive to religious beliefs, but I’m not sure I can say that Yglesias hates religion. Like a lot of political junkies, I follow Yglesias’s work and he’s a wonk and policy theorist, which is to say, in practical terms, that he certainly values property taxes and municipal wealth above religion. So when a pastor correctly points out that imposing a property tax on churches would force thousands to close, I can imagine Yglesias shrugging his shoulders and responding, “Yes, and they will be replaced by tax paying enterprises.”

And that very well might occur in the District of Columbia. Baltimore City, in contrast, would be left with a bunch of unoccupied buildings. As a point of comparison, Baltimore has a downtown office vacancy rate that is more than double that of Washington, D.C. These are two cities with vastly different economies and occupancy demands.  Now, to be fair, I believe Yglesias wrote his piece from the perspective of a D.C. resident, someone observing a growing economy and wanting the city to capitalize on that growth.

Baltimore, unfortunately, isn’t experiencing that sort of economic growth nor residential demand—the city has hemorrhaged residents for decades.  Baltimore is a poor, social services-oriented city (I often joke that there are more Goodwills than Starbucks here), with tax policies that discourage development and residential growth—our property taxes are double that of surrounding jurisdictions.  The point here is that absent the presence of these non-profit institutions, Baltimore would lose out on all of the non-tax benefits these institutions bring and would also be left with increased rates of vacancy.

Now, an argument can be made that Baltimore would be better off having lower vacancy rates coupled with higher tax receipts and increased economic activity. Churches and other non-profit institutions, particularly social service organizations, have significant, though unquantifiable, impact in Baltimore City. The question is, would Baltimore have a reduced need for social services and charity if the city had a vibrant, growing economy (spurred by a more competitive tax policy), with jobs and opportunities for low-income, low-skill residents? On the face of it, it sounds like a very free market, capitalist discussion, but I believe it’s a conversation worth having.

Many people in the imperiled working-class African-American communities continue to be drawn to President Obama, despite his lack of interest in helping struggling black homeowners plagued by predatory lending or those unfairly criminalized by the war on drugs. Given all the obfuscation and disrespect paid to him by the increasingly abrasive and indignant Republican majority in the House and the utterly obstructionist minority in the Senate, our community’s loyalty is perhaps justified.

Harris continues to posit that identify politics have failed African-Americans. Instead, he suggests that we support,

[P]oliticians, regardless of their party affiliations or the color of their skin, who uphold policies that will see an end to the disproportionate jailing of our young, our most impressionable, our most vulnerable members; who will not continue to send us to die on foreign soils in numbers that are much greater than our share; who will respect the dignity and sovereignty of our homes and property, regardless of what they claimed to believe about our communities 20-plus years ago.

There’s an argument to be made that identity politics has been lousy for black America, so I won’t quibble with that criticism. Harris qualifies that Paul has abhorrent views on a variety issues, including a woman’s right to choose, the welfare state, the Civil Rights Act, etc., but notes that Paul is a “moral bulwark against the continued infringement upon our civil liberties” and that he exhibits “startlingly empathetic moral imagination when it comes to non-Americans.” Fantastic points.

This is where I continue to diverge when it comes to criticisms of Barack Obama and Ron Paul: (1) Too much criticism and plaudits of individual political actors and so little critique of political ideology, in my mind, is problematic and (2) Continued overemphasis of politicians as change agents.

I’m not sure what people expected out of Obama; he’s progressive within the context of a highly conservative political culture and there has been little critique of his specific brand of liberalism. He certainly hasn’t fulfilled many of his campaign promises, but what politician ever has? Tim Wise, the brilliantly blunt anti-racism activist said it perfectly,

Meanwhile, at what point do you stop being so concerned about whether a presidential candidate is pushing the issues Paul raises (so many of which do need raising and attention), and realize what every actual leftist in history has realized, but which apparently some liberals and progressives don’t: namely, that the real battles are in the streets, and in the neighborhoods, and in movement activism… in short, if you’re still disappointed in Barack Obama, it’s only because you never understood whose job it was to produce change in the first place.

Ergo, it’s simply not enough that we support politicians who uphold policies we favor… there needs to be movement activism. This acknowledgement hasn’t been lost on the right; perhaps we on the left will soon be reminded.

I recall vividly the day following Obama’s presidential victory and only feeling mild elation. I very much wanted to feel more ecstatic about his victory given the symbolic win it represented for racial progress and equity against white supremacy and hegemony, but my excitement fell flat. Perhaps my cynicism got the best of me–it often does–and I was unable to balance a largely symbolic victory with the realities plaguing the African-American community at-large.

In the years following, I have come to realize something else, something that escaped me on the morning of November 5, 2008: While words like hope and change are inspiring following eight years of warmongering and growing economic inequality, they are simply words, and there was little evidence–beyond the rhetoric, and certainly not found in his voluminous writing–that Obama represented a truly progressive political direction. I say this as a liberal possessing a decidedly social democratic perspective, not the neoliberal globalist ideology that has dominated the modern Democratic Party and much of the left for quite some time. Obama was mistakenly identified by the left as something of a progressive messiah, when he has always been a centrist, New Democrat. Supporters of Obama will argue that he campaigned to the left of Hillary Clinton, herself a neoliberal stalwart, but in 2012, political insiders suggest that a Clinton vice-presidency will ensure Obama another four years in the White House.

Now it is Ron Paul, with his tireless advocacy for civil liberties, impassioned stance against imperialism and war, that has captured the attention of many liberals and progressives. And while these issues–civil liberty, imperialism, and war–are largely absent from the national dialogue, you can’t, as Tim Wise notes, “separate the man from his movement,” and Paul’s regressive libertarianism should be seen as an affront to progressive liberalism. Rather than be satisfied that Paul is injecting these issues into political discourse–albeit from a libertarian perspective–we on the left should be more concerned that, as political scientist Corey Robin writes,

Our problem—and again by “our” I mean a left that’s social democratic (or welfare state liberal or economically progressive or whatever the hell you want to call it) and anti-imperial—is that we don’t really have a vigorous national spokesperson for the issues of war and peace, an end to empire, a challenge to Israel, and so forth, that Paul has in fact been articulating.  The source of Paul’s positions on these issues are not the same as ours (again more reason not to give him our support).  But he is talking about these issues, often in surprisingly blunt and challenging terms. Would that we had someone on our side who could make the case against an American empire, or American supremacy, in such a pungent way.

As Robin points out, Paul’s articulation and construction of these issues is not the same as those on the progressive left–and this is a critically important point, one that seems lost by those of us on the left who admire Paul’s position on these issues. Robin argues quite powerfully that Paul’s distinct form of libertarianism leads to social disaster and that Ron Paul is,

[U]nacceptable, and it’s unacceptable that we don’t have someone on the left who is raising the issues of imperialism, war and peace, and civil liberties in as visible and forceful a way.

And while Paul continues to raise these issues, there fails to be a progressive liberal critique of his positions. This is alarming for many reasons, not the least of which because Paul’s states-rights-based libertarianism does nothing to advance progressive liberalism–and in fact, is much more of an impediment than representative of an ally or benign interloping.

Glenn Greenwald is right to say that,

[O]n many issues that progressives themselves have long claimed are of critical, overarching importance (not all, but many), there will be virtually no debate in the election because there are virtually no differences between the two candidates and the two parties on those questions. In the face of that fact, there are two choices: (1) simply accept it (and thus bolster it) on the basis that the only political priority that matters is keeping the Democratic Party and Barack Obama empowered; or (2) searching for ways to change the terms of the debate so that critical views that are now excluded by bipartisan consensus instead end up being heard.

However, Ron Paul does not support critical views on the issues of imperialism, war and peace, and civil liberties that are aligned with progressive liberal or social democratic perspective. Paul has–successfully?–raised these issues, but his critical view of civil liberties, for example, includes repealing the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

And from the black perspective, I intuitively agree with Tim Wise when he suggests,

I want those of you who are seriously singing Paul’s praises, while calling yourself progressive or left to ask what it signifies — not about Ron Paul, but about you — that you can look the rest of us in the eye, your political colleagues and allies, and say, in effect, “Well, he might be a little racist, but…  How do you think that sounds to black people, without whom no remotely progressive candidate stands a chance of winning… How does it sound to them — a group that has been more loyal to progressive and left politics than any group in this country — when you praise a man who opposes probably the single most important piece of legislation ever passed in this country… ?

But where Tim and I diverge is that I care very little that Ron Paul might be racist. Rather, I reject an ideology–conservative libertarianism–that opposes, in purely intellectual terms, the merits of the defining legislation of the Civil Rights Movement. Ron Paul draws comparisons to former Arizona senator, 1964 Republican presidential nominee, and seminal conservative political leader Barry Goldwater, a dangerous comparison that continues to go unacknowledged by many on the left–and it’s a frightening prospect to consider as an African-American. Martin Luther King, Jr. said of Goldwater,

While not himself a racist, Mr. Goldwater articulated a philosophy which gave aid and comfort to the racist. His candidacy and philosophy would serve as an umbrella under which extremists of all stripes would stand. In the light of these facts and because of my love for America, I had no alternative but to urge every Negro and white person of goodwill to vote against Mr. Goldwater and to withdraw support from any Republican candidate that did not publicly disassociate himself from Senator Goldwater and his philosophy.

That philosophy is conservative libertarianism and Paul is its leading proponent. Ben Adler, contributing writer for The Nation, is correct to describe Paul as a Goldwater conservative. It is quite difficult, then, as an African-American progressive with a social democratic bent, to applaud Ron Paul. It is less difficult for some of my peers, but this shouldn’t be the case: it is not simply a matter of prioritizing “anti-imperialism” and right to due process (a civil liberty) above Civil Rights (also a civil liberty), but about competing political philosophies and ideologies. There is a social democratic critique of imperialism and civil liberties to be made, and the left ought to be constructing it.

The initial acceptance of Obama’s corporatist neoliberalism and now the tepid tolerance toward Paul’s conservative (I say, regressive) libertarianism by the left suggests that there is little left, left. The neoliberal wing of American liberalism has so thoroughly displaced social democratic liberalism that we on the left are now praising the intellectual heir to Barry Goldwater for simply “raising important issues.”

What we ought to be asking ourselves is why are there virtually no differences between the two major parties on these issues? I would argue that it is because neoliberal globalism has displaced social democratic liberalism as the dominant faction of the left–leaving us with progressive liberals who are made eager to become bedfellows, however strangely, with regressive libertarians.

My neighbor and fellow blogger / writer Edit Barry has a fantastic blog that delves into the complexities of education and education reform, a worthwhile and noble endeavor. Edit openly admits that her focus has been on class as she works to make her neighborhood public school more attractive to parents like her, i.e. middle-class and white. In fact, she writes that she “hadn’t much thought about the racial dimensions of education reform” before attending a “Talking About Race” event focused on educating black boys. Edit and I live in Hampden, an historically poor and working-class white enclave in majority black Baltimore. Hampden remains a majority white community and the neighborhood school reflects that. So I can excuse her for not giving more thought to the racial dimensions at play in education.

But Edit is a global thinker. While she may not have considered the racial dynamics playing out at Hampden Elementary, she knows that race is an important factor. She recognizes that Hampden is the “land of failed desegregation, redlining, and massive white flight.” You can’t speak about Hampden without acknowledging it’s history of racism. And it just happens to traditionally be a working poor and working-class neighborhood. Edit knows that race and class matter in Hampden and in education reform. After all, while Hampden Elementary is majority white, system-wide the intersection of race and class is grossly apparent: while Baltimore is only 64 percent black, the schools are disproportionately black, with approximately 87 percent identifying themselves as black. And the students are poor as well: 84 percent of Baltimore City Public School students are classified as low-income. Nothing points out the intersection of race and class more glaringly than the Baltimore City Public School System. And if you’re looking to address the myriad problems facing public education in Baltimore City, you must face down issues of both class and race.

What’s disappointing, moreover, is speculation presented by Johns Hopkins University professor Sandra Newman, who wonders aloud whether class matters more than race. Why? Because,

“Cheswolde, a northwest [Baltimore] neighborhood located between Mount Washington and Fallstaff, has had a very stable ethnic and racial profile over the past three decades, roughly 70 percent white and 30 percent black, with no clear evidence of spatially segregated racial enclaves.”

In Hampden, class is prioritized because, well, only whites live there, while in Cheswolde, race is de-emphasized because the community is relatively integrated according to race: if Cheswolde is the poster child of racial harmony, then Hampden is the epitome of racial discordance.

Newman is correct to point out that her proclamation that class matters more than race is a “provocative thought” and “sheer speculation,” but really it amounts to simple conjecture.  What’s really disconcerting is our incessant preoccupation with proving that class is more important than race or that race is more important than class. Attempting to prove that one is more important or deserving more of your attention is truly a fool’s errand.

For those of you who don’t know what an Oreo is, beyond the delicious and nutritional cookie, of course, it’s a derogatory term that gets tossed out at African-Americans who are perceived to be “black on the outside” and “white on the inside.”

Now, this isn’t the first time someone has ever alluded to me being less than black, or however you want to frame it, but this was the very first time someone just out and asked me if I were an “Oreo.” She felt the need to ask me this because I was wearing a pair of khakis and a sweater. I guess she hadn’t read this Grantland article, either. Well, there goes post-blackness.

This sort of thing happens from time to time. So you have a young white woman who feels she has her finger on the pulse of what it means to be black and whatever deviates from her perceived reality is to be called into question. I also happened to be just one of two African Americans at this party. The other being the world’s most interesting man, Lionel Foster. And of course, we got this question a few times during the evening: “How is it that you’re ever the only black guys around?”

Pause.

The answer is pretty obvious: You, don’t have a diverse set of friends. That is, you don’t have any black friends beyond me. And that’s OK. You’re socially segregated, I get it. But don’t go putting the onus on your lack of diverse friends on your one or two minority friends. Look inwardly.

This also brings me to my recent storytelling event, in which I discussed how race helped shape my life growing up in Baltimore City. I abhor listening to myself speak. But perhaps you don’t.

I was fortunate to be a featured guest for Show Baltimore’s impressive start — I spoke about the Baltimore Brew‘s Kickstarter campaign and the intersection of media, technology and politics in Baltimore –  and I’m excited to see how this venture evolves. Knowing Kevin and Andrew, Baltimore will have a lot to look forward to from this project. My next scheduled event is next February for the New Mercury Reading series.

This isn’t to suggest that I didn’t receive exemplary instruction from very committed, talented, hard-working teachers; I did. Nor do I want to shy away from my aptitude or natural talents. Rather, so much of my success is the result of the efforts from my parents and extended family. After all, it was my mother who encouraged me to read in the early stages of my development and fostered a rich learning environment. She ensured that I had enriching educational experiences during my formative years before I entered the public school system and made sure that I had a solid foundation, both academically and culturally — I sometimes joke that I was initially clueless to the pervasiveness of white hegemony, given that my formal education prior to elementary school was so focused on African American achievement, I was largely unaware of the existence and concerns of white people.

This is an important point to consider; I now understand how it is that members of the white majority can be so culturally unaware and inept. This cultural unawareness can be both empowering and debilitating. My mother tried her hardest to make sure that my education would neither be indoctrination nor subjugation — trying her best to avoid the trap that James Baldwin wrote so fearlessly about. She was so committed to my education that she moved us out of our predominately black, West Baltimore neighborhood and into a more culturally diverse (this means that there were white people) Northwest community so that I had an opportunity to attend a better elementary school.

But it wasn’t just my mother. My stepfather, grandparents and countless aunts pushed and guided me toward academic and intellectual pursuits. As an elementary school student and middle schooler, I would watch Charlie Rose with my grandfather and he would interrogate me on world affairs, history and public policy. I would discover James Baldwin on my own, but my mother guided me toward Richard Wright, and her favorite author, Langston Hughes. My aunts introduced me to comic books and speculative fiction, spring-boarding me into a love of writing, reading and literature. The cultivation of any talents that I might possess was truly a family affair and the same has been done with my two younger sisters, who will be entering their final year of high school.

And this is why the riddle of public education is so difficult. I benefited from attending some of the very best public schools that Baltimore City has to offer, but had it not been for the preparation that my family gave me, or for all of their support and encouragement, such opportunities would have surely been wasted. Education is transformational, but the public conversation has been limited in scope and focus; we seem only concerned with schools and teacher performance. This is a mistake. I wrote about this years ago. And so have policy experts and educators across the political spectrum. The public certainly needs excellent schools and excellent teachers; without them, my mother’s hard work would have likely been for naught. But if we don’t address the many other issues that impact educational growth, schools and teachers will only be able to do but so much; this isn’t defeatism, it is fact.

It took quite a bit of work and sacrifice for a solidly working class family to produce three academically inclined children; I shudder to think of what would have become of us if we were truly poor and disadvantaged and left without our industrious, nurturing parents.