Prometheus 6

I find the underlying premise of this article disturbing. Middle-class blacks fail because they aren't living up to some supposed obligation to strike out on their own and make huge sums of money? Isn't this basically accepting the whole Cosby paradigm but just shifting the guilt?

Poor people aren't bad for being poor. The middle-class aren't bad for remaining middle-class. The rich aren't bad for being rich. But all of them are at fault when they neglect their children, when they hurt the community around them, when they lack respect for themselves.

Isn't this basically accepting the whole Cosby paradigm but just shifting the guilt?

Yup. That's the point. Remember the title: To All Working Middle-Class Blacks Folks That Agree With Cosby and Obama - Let’s Talk About Those Other Four Fingers

Bill Cosby gave the famous Pound Cake speech in May of 2004 (50th anniversary of Brown vs. Topeka Board of Education). At the time, there was an immense amount of attention paid to it, including at this blog. (Interesting coincidence: while hunting for that link I found what I believe to be the earliest reference to Barack Obama in the same weekly archive as when Cosby made his speech.)

At the time, I sensed there was a great effusion of White relief:

For a moment I stood there, my eyes riveted upon the door, the glass hot in my hand, my face feeling as if it would explode. Why was everyone staring at me as if I were responsible? Why the hell were they staring at me? Suddenly I yelled, "What's the matter with you? Haven't you ever seen a drunk—" when somewhere off the foyer the broad man's voice staggered drunkenly to us, "St. Louis mammieeeee—with her diamond riiings..." and was clipped off by a slamming door, leaving a roomful of bewildered faces. And suddenly I was laughing hysterically.

[...]

"He threw a hog maw," I cried, but no one seemed to understand. My eyes filled, I could barely see, "He's high as a Georgia pine," I laughed, turning to the group nearest me. "He's abso-lutely drunk... off music!"

"Yes, sure," a man said nervously. "Ha, ha..."

"Three sheets in the wind," I laughed, getting my breath now, and discovering that the silent tension of the others was ebbing into a ripple of laughter that sounded throughout the room, growing swiftly into a laugh of all dimensions, intensities, and intonations. Everyone was joining in. The room fairly bounced.

"And did you see Brother Jack's face," a man shouted, shaking his head.

"It was murder!"

"Go down Moses!"

II tell you it was murder!"

[...]

I fought against the painful laughter, and as I calmed I saw them looking at me with a sort of embarrassed gratitude. [...] The smiled. Several seemed about to come over and pound by back, shake my hand. It was as though I had told them something which they'd wished very much to hear, had rendered them an important service which I couldn't understand.
Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man, Chapter 14

In the years since, I've learned quite a bit, which suggests to me it's really easy for people to forget how utterly hopeless conditions can be when they were in the hood. Cosby appears to have had a middle class childhood, but I'm going to assume that he must have had a passing acquaintance with African Americans from the bleaker districts of West Philadelphia. He wasn't always Dr. Huxtable. White people are all too eager to hide the truth of the ghetto from themselves.... Why should we be surprised when it works?