By Kenneth L. Hardin

Although I’ve been on the dark end of the color spectrum my entire life, there are times I’m completely perplexed by my fellow skinfolk. Africans in America (AIA) both tickle and confuse me with the things we place importance on and what we’re willing to argue and disagree about. We’ll engage in a verbal battle to the death with each other to the delight of the otherman over things that have no positive bearing on our upward mobility. Some of our philosophical battles sadly remind me of how the slave master would pit two physically imposing pieces of their human property against each other in a fight to the death, all for his amusement. Ignorantly, confused Knee Grows revel in this warped type of victory today and wear the title like a crown without realizing it’s more of a heavy weight around their neck. Nineteenth century abolitionist, orator and civil rights leader Frederick Douglas said back in the 1800s, “When I was a boy, slaves from the master’s plantation used to argue and fight slaves from the neighboring plantation over which slave master was wealthier and had the nicest house.”  Two centuries later, not much has changed with our mindset.

Why can’t we put as much energy into fighting for our voting rights, increasing AIA voter participation, finding candidates of color that are worth voting for, putting an end to police murders of unarmed AIA, stopping the crime and violence in our communities, increasing and improving educational opportunities, keeping AIA children out of gangs and off drugs, demanding equitable resources, and doing a better job of ensuring our women are treated with dignity and respect, rather than arguing about who’s the G.O.A.T.— Lebron or Jordan? I wish we would put the same amount of time and effort in fighting the aforementioned as we do for Beyoncé tickets, Jordan sneakers, the latest iPhone or defending our favorite pro sports team. The number of different posts I’ve read from skinfolk across social media in the wake of Diddy’s arrest has been so disappointing. Instead of arguing about his guilt or innocence, question why we know so much more about which celebrity attended Diddy’s parties but not who was at Jeffrey Epstein’s house. Conversely, I can count on one hand the number of posts about the proposed white nationalist propaganda-driven Project 2025 plan that will further diminish and decimate civil rights even if three of the fingers were amputated. It’s so disillusioning that we have Black folk engaging in character assassinations and threats of physical harm simply because a sports team, who they have no financial consideration in, is harshly criticized. I’m so tired of it to the point where I want to take my hood access card, put it in a blender and serve it at the next cookout.

We continually complain that the otherman treats us as a monolithic and monochromatic group with infantile-like cognitive abilities in dire need of a leader. We’ve long fought to show we’re capable of developing singular individual thoughts, but when we do, we’re immediately criticized by other skinfolk for doing so. I’ve asked before why it’s necessary that we all think, act, behave and believe the same way? I don’t follow celebrities and could care less about any pro sports team, but I’ve never cast aspersions on anyone who does. I simply chalk it up to being allowed to have different tastes in what constitutes intellect and raised consciousness. I was talking to a young brother last week about this topic. As we chopped up the various areas where we seem to place an inordinate amount of focus that yields little to nothing, I pointedly said, ‘ I can no longer entertain Black ignorance of any kind. If it’s not bringing positivity or cultural growth, I refuse to support it.” I watched as he leaned his head backwards, looked skyward and marinated on the statement in silence for a few seconds before replying, “Man, that’s deep but I feel you on that.”

I’ve never made it personal nor called out the distractive things we’re blinded by as character deficiencies. I don’t engage in that level of pettiness because I’ve been on the receiving end of that misguided logic from some of my own people with lifetime memberships in the Knee Grow Illuminati. There are quite a few KGI members who pretend to be socially conscious neo-Black revolutionaries in this little slice of historic marginal hell for some. Although we’re sometimes treated as third-class citizens, they ignore that and have called me an “Uncle Tom sellout n***er” because I’ve had the courage to call out internal cultural idiocy and silliness when I’ve seen it causing cultural detriment. I’ve had it thrown in my face like a pot of hot grits by my people, but instead of some of these cowards calling me personally, they share it with other people outside of our community. Surprisingly, they fail to see they’re the ones actually selling out. Skinfolk need to stop defining someone else’s character and feeling like we have the moral authority to assign a degree of ethnicity to someone simply because they don’t sin like you. How many usage points do you need on the otherman’s credit card to make you feel good about yourself?

Let’s stop getting wrapped up in heated exchanges and wasting vocal energy on irrelevant issues that have no bearing on moving the cultural progress needle. I would much rather talk about why so many of our communities are either dying in the arid, desolate, barren wasteland of resource deficits or being overrun and overwhelmed, drowning in the overabundance of the saturation of drugs, crime and violence. I’ll continue refraining from engaging in any debates about things that don’t move the needle for Africans in America. I would much rather pour substance into our people rather than add to the degradation.

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