I’ve said before I don’t drink from every cup handed to me because I’m not that thirsty for acknowledgment or to be liked. I found my voice a couple of decades ago. When I learned how to speak the language of the free, I decided I would never mute myself or allow others to silence me. I’ve been told several times by some of the cultural elite in this city that I need to learn my place. One fine gentleman approached me as a sitting councilman just before a meeting and uttered that directive to which I promptly ignored.

Some of these good folks pat themselves on the back, while metaphorically patting skinfolk on the top of the head, falsely believing they don’t treat people that way. Implicit in your silence and hesitancy to speak up and out on sensitive matters, shaking your head from side to side in quiet derision at something that goes against your fragile sensibilities, wagging a judgmental finger at a situation that doesn’t impact you directly or that you’ve never experienced, or your complicity by failing to take a stand against a wrong, says you do.

It boggles my mind why people allow words that they don’t agree with to cause them to have visceral reactions and feel comfortable lashing out at those who do have the courage to have an opinion. I received a cell phone call from a blocked number. The conversation started the same way as all the angry idiots who approach me do, “Is this Kenny Hardin?” He went on to introduce himself as, “part of the cultural white elite of Salisbury.” Whatever. He then proceeded to say sternly and angrily, “if you don’t tone down your rhetoric against white people here, you’ll be sorry.” I introduced him to the culturally significant game of “Playing the Dozens” and told him where he could go in profane terms that would make a sailor blush. This is not new or unique. I’ve been verbally accosted this way in Lowe’s, Krispy Kreme, Pizza Hut, convenience stores, restaurants, city owned facilities and too many other places to mention. It always starts out the same way with my being asked, “Are you that Kenny Hardin fella?” Why do people stop me to say they read my weekly missives, but they don’t agree with what I wrote?

Am I to say thank you? They can never point out specifics or articulate a thought that would cause me to ponder my viewpoint. It reminds me of a 40-ish year old woman who shared with me her disdain for former President Obama. When I pressed her for a specific reason why, all she could say was, “I don’t really know, I just don’t like him.” For good measure, she added that she had nothing against colored people. When I asked her what color these people were, thinking maybe they were of a hue that doesn’t exist in the crayon box, she got flustered and stormed off.

The late poet and author, James Baldwin, wrote, “Remember that what they believe, as well as what they do and cause you to endure, does not testify to your inferiority but to their inhumanity and fear.” This quote brings sadness to my heart. It does so because no matter how much you accomplish and achieve, no matter how good of a man you try to be, no matter how much you follow societal rules, expectations, and norms, no matter how much you sing, shout, and pray to a God who is not yours originally, no matter if you live your life in an exemplary way, someone is going to challenge your manhood and try to take away your dignity. Someone will try to make you “know your place.”

As long as you allow it, everything is good. You’re OK if you laugh, dance, shuffle along and accept the disrespect. They say things like, “You’re not like most Black people. Why can’t other Black people be like you?” If you demand respect and challenge those who try to subjugate you, you’re labeled as angry, difficult, divisive, hard to get along with, and a discredit to your race.

When you stand up for yourself, you become a problem. All skinfolk ain’t kinfolk either.

They’re Black in skin tone but have no cultural identity or sense of loyalty. They choose comfort and acceptance over respect. They choose appeasement and accommodation over demanding fairness and equity. They’ve placed a price tag on their soul and integrity and make it convenient for the rest of us to be treated disrespectfully.

Every day is a fight to maintain my dignity and it gets harder and harder to not allow it to impact you mentally and emotionally. But I own my voice and I won’t be afraid to use it.

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists.