As we move to other parts of the state, we go north then head south. Owen grew up in Elgin, a northwest second ring suburb of Chicago. Elgin was majority white, over 60%, and only 7% black. A city that has seen significant population growth over Owen’s childhood, growing up Elgin had just under 100,000 people.

Owen describes growing up in a middle class family as relatively sheltered. “The neighborhood behind me had drugs and gangs, but the neighborhood in front was white middle class America.” Fortunately, the neighborhood Owen grew up in was fairly decent, 54% of households were married couples, and the median income was $52,000 and only 6.4% of families lived below the poverty line. His household however was female headed, so he fell in the small 11% minority of female headed households. Like a lot of black families, and just like Tonya and Sasha, he grew up with his grandmother in the house.

He says “my dad was around, but not really in my life.” Evan knew what it was like to not have a dad around too… which takes us to the other end of the state, East St. Louis, Illinois, a well known city for its blighted conditions, and for having the “highest crime rate in the United States.” But how many people have taken a personal look at East St. Louis and not allow the statistics like: 48% of children live below the poverty line or less than 10% of the population holds a college degree, to let them write off an entire community of people?

Evan describes his neighborhood as majority African- American (97%) and low income (median income for a family was $24,500). Quite the contrast from Owen, I doubt from the description that Evan was very sheltered, but more importantly, Evan describes his neighborhood as a community.

“Our street had a lot of kids on it. There were long narrow streets and they all looked exactly the same, 80th looked like 81st and 81st looked just like 79th. We had about 20 kids on our block all around the same age. Most of us tried to stay out of the streets, and had older siblings or parents that kept us out of trouble. We had people behind my house who were thugs. We fought a lot, but still remained friends. It was one of those communities where if I got in trouble at Jerry’s house, his mom would punish me and my mom. It was like a black ‘Hey Arnold’.”

Both Owen and Evan were smart. Owen attended public school until high school. From 4th-8th grade he was in “gifted” programs and “was distanced, somewhat, from some of the things other kids were doing.” Evan says he went to the “geek” school, “it was simply the public school that had testing requirements to get in.” While Owen seemed contented that he received a decent education, Evan says he got in trouble a lot for “lack of challenge”… “I talked back a lot, I was curious, but teachers who didn’t want to address my curiosity labeled it as bad behavior.”

 In 2007 that school closed… I wonder how many other children, who were “gifted” or “geeks”, attended that school in hopes of being challenged academically, but left with tons of unanswered curiosity???

These two black males, despite the challenges that stood before them, many of which had still not yet been realized before their teenage years, were destined for excellence… 

So there I found myself, at the event of who’s who in the city of St. Louis. Gathered with middle-class blacks for a ball to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr.’s Birthday and the second Inauguration of President Barack Obama.  I arrive with my little sister and mother who were in town for the weekend and meet my co-workers. My supervisor grabs me as I walk in to introduce me to some gentlemen I should know.

As conversation carries on, the larger groups break into couples speaking, leaving one gentleman and myself. He leans over and ask “so what whips David cracking across yo’ back this year?” with an ugly grin on his face. To which I replied “I don’t know, I don’t get whips cracked!” and then proceeded to tell him all the great things I’m looking forward to doing this year.

After that disturbance, the night gets worse as the mistress of the ceremony talks and says that she “believes President Obama is the manifestation of Dr. King’s dream!” Is she mad I thought to myself, delusion, or just straight crazy?!? How could one possible think that the inauguration of President Obama is somehow the icing on the cake for the struggle of equality and justice in black America? How could one possibly believe that having a President in the white house who quite frankly refuses to talk about Black America’s issues as to not be labeled as the “black president” except when he gathers a group of black fathers together and tell them to do better is the manifestation? A Black president who has received the fewest amounts of white male votes in the history of the U.S. meaning minorities and women single-handedly re-elected him, but sees that as not merit enough to bring recognition to the thousands of black lives lost in urban America as we do for the victims of Sandy Hook and the many other issues discussed in his inaugural speech. A Black President of who, I must remind myself is also half white, but he himself never forgets.

Personally, I love President Barack Hussein Obama, and I voted for him both times. I believe he was the hope America needed, the politician the GLBTQ community couldn’t have imagined he has become, the man all women have longed for. But he is not the dream realized!

“Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.

But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition.”

And as we celebrate the 150th Anniversary now of the Emancipation Proclamation, and the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, I believe King’s speech to still be true! Dr. King I am sure knew that winning civil rights would benefit all Americans, but still he stood for Black Americans. Dr. King knew that white allies were important in the struggle for equality, and yet he marched with Blacks and whites alike. Dr. King knew that hatred surrounded him everywhere he looked, and yet he still preached love. Dr. King was aware of all the forces, the circumstances around him, but King did not shy away from the vision God had given him, a vision that as integrating as it was and still is, was a vision for the freedom and deliverance of a certain people.

Israel’s deliverance was not for the Egyptians as well, the very people who had enslaved them. Yet, their deliverance spoke to the all encompassing love, passion, and desire for justice God has for all mankind.

I don’t know if President Obama was given a vision from God to become the President of the United States. I don’t know if President Obama used hope as a strategized political platform or if he truly believed in the hope and change he spoke of. Certainly, I would like to think that, like King, President Obama was aware of the forces and circumstances around him. Certainly, I would like to think that President Obama knew he would have a hard time with Congress, getting the change he spoke of to pass. But yet, he sold the dream of hope and change anyhow. And while I appreciate being sold the dream of hope, for hope I believe is the only thing that counters despair, pain, disappointment, proven unfaithfulness, we are not yet able to un-cling hope. And that is reason enough to say that President Obama has neither manifested King’s dream, nor his own. But let me continue…

So as I come back to the event I dreadfully regretted attending, I could not continue to sit and smile and believe that he was the manifestation. I could not believe the dream had been realized when my heart bleeds for my people every morning I wake up. Do not mistake my words or judgment as racist, though they are biased. I simply seek to challenge the thought that one man, however perfect or imperfect he may be is the manifestation of a vast dream, when the majority of my people do not live in that reality.

I cannot, knowingly accept such foolishness, when the question presented to me earlier about “cracking whips and backs” speaks to the still enslaved mind of my people. How dare we address ourselves with such language? Some of you may be thinking that “cracking the whip” is just a phrase used to describe someone who uses there authority harshly, or maybe a horse comes to mind. Fair enough. But both harsh authority and horses are still relevant as we reflect back on the treatment of black slaves as less than human under a harsh rule.

 I cannot believe that the dream has been manifested when as crazy as it sounds, you have a better chance of survival in Iraq than in Chicago to not be shot and killed by a bullet. Where my old neighborhood sparks articles, blog posts, etc. to ask if it is the deadliest neighborhood in Chicago but yet no national attention is given. This is not the dream King had for urban America.

I cannot believe that the dream has been manifested when only 25% of Black males graduate from high school in Buffalo, New York. Nor can I ignore that in a city with a population of 250,000 people, there is an immigrant and refugee community of at least 12,000 people and funding for ESL programs is practically non-existent and the one international school in the city faces threats of closure every single semester. Certainly, that is not the dream King had for public education.

I cannot believe that the dream has been manifested when in the St. Louis region, 40% of children live below the poverty line…40%!!! How dare we be a country with isolated concentrated wealth in the top 1 or even 2% and have so many children going without                                   ? (You fill in the blank!). This is not the dream King had for children.

My dear sister who hosted this event, and those who may also think like you, I regret to inform you that your card has been declined. I cannot swipe it anymore, for each time it reads to me another reason why the dream has not been manifested, and I cannot bear to read what else it may say. But one thing I can tell you is that I will not believe the dream is manifested until words Dr. King wrote are true:

“As long as the mind is enslaved the body can never be free. Psychological freedom, a firm sense of self- esteem, is the most powerful weapon against the long night of physical slavery. No Lincolnian Emancipation Proclamation or Kennedyan or Johnsonian civil rights bill can totally bring this kind of freedom. The Negro will only truly be free when he reaches down to the inner depths of his own being and signs with pen and ink of assertive selfhood his own emancipation proclamation. With a spirit straining toward true self- esteem, the Negro must boldly throw off the manacles of self- abnegation and say to himself and the world: “I am somebody. I am a person. I am a man with dignity and honor. I have a rich and noble history, however painful and exploited that history has been. I am black and comely.” This self- affirmation is the black man’s need made compelling by the white man’s crime against him.”

When this becomes the declaration of my people, then will I believe the dream has been manifested. Until then, “keep hope alive!”

(Excerpts taken from: “I Have A Dream” Speech and Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community?  Both by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.)

“Growing up, my neighborhood was pretty good. A few flaws here or there but nothing major. The community was friendly and everyone was considered family especially on our block.” Sasha was born in Chicago. She loved school, described it as both exciting and fulfilling. She anticipated going to school each and every day because she learned a lot of great stuff being educated in a charter school. Her neighborhood was one of unique style, as are many in Chicago, with one family frame houses and two-flats combined on a block with wide streets, sidewalks to play on and porches to sit and greet neighbors. Although Sasha paints a picture of what one would think of when posed with a thought about American neighborhoods, Sasha’s view of her neighborhood was limited. That “family” Sasha speaks of on her block, tore a family apart when one of her best friend’s was raped by her own cousin and the family moved states away. Sasha had not forgotten that tragedy that struck her friend, nor had she been exempt from the sounds of gun shots that sometimes rang through the front door as if they were the doorbell. But somehow, it was good for her.

Tonya grew up in the same neighborhood by division of the city, the largest neighborhood on the Westside and in the entire city by population density, Austin Community. But Tonya describes her part of the neighborhood very differently. Whereas Sasha was to the northwest of the neighborhood, bordering a very affluent suburb of Chicago, Oak Park; Tonya lived 15 minutes south of here, at the southern most part of the neighborhood, bordering a predominately Hispanic community, Cicero Township. Tonya often recalls in individual relationship building meetings with people the prostitutes and drug dealing she saw on a daily basis. Police presence is still vividly pictured in her mind as she flashes back to see women being thrown into the back of police cars and young boys thrown across them. She too however, talks of closeness and sense of community she felt.

Both their parents were cautious of them. Sasha never left her block and Tonya couldn’t leave her own porch for much of her childhood years. But fortunate for them, they had popular blocks that were frequented, allowing them to socialize with children from other parts of the neighborhood. Tonya lived next door, separated by an ally, to the community center, where boys would go to play basketball and girls would go to watch. She lived on a block mixed with houses and factory buildings, that after one was torn down became a vacant lot for play, riding bikes, and increased criminal activity.

These two met at a charter school, on the Northside of the city, in a vastly different neighborhood from the one they both knew. This school would take them on a journey neither could have anticipated. But one thing was for sure, Sasha would be excited to go to school to see Tonya and the rest of their crew everyday!