The last time I went to the barber shop, I was able to speak to Brandon. He told me more about his life and we talked about politics and DWB (driving while black).
I asked Brandon to tell me what it was like for him growing up in a bad neighborhood. He told me violence was always around. One of the first things he remembered was being 7 or 8 and having to duck down inside the house because shooting would break out on his block. He told me there was a bullet hole in his kitchen counter in his old house; it had entered through the kitchen window.
He got into multiple fights while he was in middle school. I asked him what the fights were about, and he said t was over the stupidest things. It could have been over football or fighting over the last seat on the bus or because one pushed he other too hard when they were playing. He said sometimes it was for no reason at all. He told me he must have been in at least 100 fights before he got to high school.
"You must defend yourself, " he said "even if you lose, you need to fight to survive."
I remembered he told me that he had shot at someone, but at the time i hadn't wanted to go any further, and he hadn't seemed comfortable talking about it. This time around though, Iasked him. I asked him if he owned a gun. He answered yes. "I deal with money (cash) so I keep it on me because you never know."
When he said that, I was shocked. I think he noticed how white I turned and he started laughing. I told him I had never known anyone who owned a gun, much less someone who carried it with them. I asked, you have it right now?! In here?
He answered yes, and so I assumed it was in one of the drawers at his work station or something. He was sitting right next to me on the couch, with little room to move. He said, "It's right here," patting his right thigh. I had nowhere to go, but my first instinct was to move away. All I could do was stare at the spot on his thigh and I couldn't help but swallow hard. I didn't know what to think. So I asked if the other guys knew he carried it, and to my surprise he said, "Yea! They all carry one too!"
He assured me that as long as I was in there, I was safe.
He told me the shooting incident he was involved in happened at a club. He and his friend got into another fight with someone, and it just got out of control. Another guy came out of nowhere and hit him in the head with a beer bottle. the second time he hit him, Brandon pulled out the gun and started shooting. He said he doesn't know what happened because he just got into his car and took off.
He told me that in the black community you need three things to survive: food, water and guns. "You need one because too many criminals have them , the good people need to have them too. You just never know, you could be an innocent victim or a mistaken identity."
He told me he's been exposed to a lot of stuff. He lost his virginity when he was 12 to a 15 year-old girl. I asked him why he had done it at such a young age, and if he felt more "cool" afterwards. He confessed he felt weird. He had never been taught about sex. His mom and his brothers had never spoken about it with him. He even thought he had gotten the girl pregnant. "I had no clue about sex."
So i asked why he thought his mother never spoke to him about it. He told me his mom was a single parent, and that she probably felt awkward talking to her boys about sex. "It was an environment where you were expected to grow up, and learn those things on your own."
He said he thinks it's the reason why so many black girls get pregnant. "Single moms- as is often the case- don't teach their children about sex. The boys overcompensate for not having dads, they think having sex makes them men, but they don't know how to be men."
We talked about drugs too. He told me about the house down the block that used to sell drugs. When he was a kid he saw dealers exchange drugs with "clients" and witnessed a lady o.d. and die in a van. He says he's only smoked pot once, and has never done any other drug. He told me he sold some weed in high school and stole often.
I asked him why he stole. "Because I was starving! I had to, what else was I going to do?"
He didn't get his first job until his senior year of high school. He worked for the Boys and Girls Club for two years. He said it was ironic because sometimes he had to steal t-shirts from the corner store to wear to work so he could comply with the uniform.
He said, "I'm a pretty good kid."
I would have to agree. Brandon is a mature and smart guy, he just made some bad choices.
Then our talk turned to politics. I asked him if he had voted for Obama. He told me it was the first and last time he would vote. He thinks politics are a joke. He old me, "Presidents are not elected, they are elected." He said nobody's vote counts.
I asked why he thought Obama had become President. I got a very interesting answer, one full of doubt and a hint of paranoia.
"Sometimes you gotta give the people what they want. Sometimes you have to quiet them."
He doesn't trust politics , and sayid he doesn't put his faith in any man, only in God.
About health care he said, "If you pay taxes, you should be able to get health care. I know people who don't work and make their money illegally that can afford to pay for a hospital visit. It's not fair."
I asked him if he had ever been stopped for DWB. He smiled, and i asked if he know what that was was. He laughed and said yes. He says he's been stopped about four or five times. He says he just shows him his license and registration and pretends to be nice because he knows they have nothing on him.
I asked him what he thought about black cops, and if he'd ever been stopped by one. He said no, but he said he'd rather be pulled over by a white cop than a black one. "The black ones seem to have a chip in their shoulder. I don't know if they think they're better than us or what. It's like we owe them something."
As I was getting ready to leave I overheard a conversation about politics, just like the one Brandon and I had been having. Ives and the customer in his chair were going on about conspiracy theories and about how disappointed they were in Obama. They were saying how this country is run by rich families. Ives said he was disappointed in Obama because he felt he had sold his soul. He made a lot of references to the Bible. He said things are going to get worse, but he is not surprised because he has been reading about it for years. He said it may not be a catastrophic natural disaster, but that something is going to happen, and someone is going to take over.
He said, "you can' fault Obama, or any of the presidents for that matter. The wheels were set in motion a long time ago, and there is nothing we can do about it. Bush was the one who got the wheels turning. Obama is just a puppet."
"The last real president we had, ended up with his brains splattered all over the back seat of a Cadillac."
All I could do was listen, I was shocked to find out that these black men felt this way. I had just assumed that most black people voted for Obama and really felt good about their decision. I thought they admired hm and had hope in what he wants to do. What i found is that hese men have no faith in government, no faith in Obama. I don't blame them though. We've seen little to no improvement, and I honestly don't see how we're going to get out of this mess.
SUMMARY
This Listening Post experience has really been life-altering. I remember how nervous I was the first day I walked into the shop. I had no idea what was going to happen. I stepped into a world completely different from mine, and what I found is that we're not so different after all. The people at this shop are some of the kindest and smartest people I have had the pleasure of meeting. They are accepting and generous and had no problem talking to me. I got weird looks at the beginning, but the past few times I've visited, almost every person has greeted me. Greg comes up to me every time to shake my hand and give me a kiss on the cheek. Brandon sits down next to me and starts up conversations, and asks me for advice. Who would have though?!
I've learned so much over the past few weeks. I learned how to ask the right questions, the right way. I'm no longer afraid to push for more or ask about something I don't understand or that intrigues me. I learned that most people want to and like to talk.
The barber shop is the place where everyone comes to talk about the gossip and about what's going on in the world. It's an open forum for thoughts and opinions. The talk quickly changed from football to more meaningful and important topics. I saw a side of these people, that I would have probably never seen otherwise.
It taught me that deep down, we are all the same. We are all flesh and blood. We all have the same problems and afflictions. We all have prejudices, but we can look beyond them. Once we get to know others, we find that their hearts and souls are the same. We all want love and happiness, and we all want to be successful at whatever we do.
I plan on going back even though this assignment is over. I want to learn more about the people there. I've made friends with them, and I just don't feel right not going back for the occasional visit. I think I'm going to keep this blog going, and maybe even try to do the same experiment somewhere else.
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