When I was 13-15 years old, I was in the earliest stages of becoming a “Blerd” aka a Black Nerd. This may be a foreign term for those who don’t regularly peruse the pages of the Ebonics dictionary, routinely spend time in the chocolate parts of the city or chop it up with those possessing the duality in language to articulate the King’s English while continuing to evince their cultural linguistic relevance. In other words, I was able to enjoy things uncommon for skinfolk growing up while maintaining my Black Hood Card.

I was a decent athlete back in the day, but I didn’t subscribe to the trite belief that the only way a young Black kid could recognize success in life was to run, jump, sing or boogaloo his way to the top. People readily donate to basketball and football camps with the ridiculous belief that if we keep these kids tired and sweaty, they might stop shooting. I rarely see money being devoted to creating math, science, coding, drone, or robotics camps in the hood. Instead of focusing all the energy on entertaining kids, lets try to pour resources into their intellectual, behavioral, and cognitive development.

Black athletes and entertainers are routinely heralded as heroes and leaders simply because they have physical prowess and artistic abilities. Politicians call upon them in times of crisis, but whenever there’s been a cultural uprising, racial instability, a police officer involved murder or any other calamity, the last person I want to hear from is someone who tells jokes for a living, bounces a basketball or mumble raps. Give me a thinker, an intellectual, an academic or that Blerd who never gets his time to shine.

I shared two quotes on social media recently that illustrated my point. The first read, “The child who reads will become an adult who thinks.” I followed it up with a quote from rapper Kanye West who showed why he revels in the coonery, buffoonery and idiocy that is his life, “I haven’t read any books. It’s like eating Brussels sprouts.” Yet he’s commonly referred to as a genius.

Why is he hailed in such high regard and revered as a Black success story when you have so many other examples of skinfolk making inroads in fields that actually matter?

I’m glad I didn’t fit the stereotypical mold in my teen adolescent years. My enthrallment extended to how I raised my own kids decades later. First I painted a vivid picture for my three sons of who they really were and told them they needed to just embrace it. They enjoyed watching the Fresh Prince of Bel Air TV show. Each of them thought they possessed the cool hip swagger of the Will Smith leading character, but I explained to them that I saw them more as Carlton. We had a serious discussion about finding their identity and not allowing peer pressure to force them to assume behaviors and characteristics that were not true to who they were. I shared my personal pain of being told by my peers I wasn’t Black enough and by white America
that I was too Black. At no time did I feel compelled to engage in nefarious behaviors to prove loyalty to the misguided belief from either side and encouraged them not to either.

OK, we can return to our regular original programming point now that I’ve gotten all that off my chest. I was consumed with reading not wildin’ out in the streets. After receiving my first library card, I felt like I had gotten an unlimited balance on a diamond level credit card. I recall making the trek during the summers up to the Public Library and staying all day. I’ve received several awards as an adult, but the most prized one I recall as a child was receiving a certificate going into the 6th grade for reading 66 books over the summer. Forty seven years later, I still beam with pride of that accomplishment.

Four months ago, as I was exiting my Veterans business at the West End Plaza, two 14-year-olds were standing atop the two generators positioned at my rear door. They were planning to jump down and attack me as I left. I courageously stood my ground, showed them the holstered weapon on my hip and angrily ordered them to get down. When I asked them why they were planning to attack me, their answer was, “We’re just bored.” My anger melted away and I was saddened for them. Unlike when I was their age, I wasn’t thinking of robbing anyone. I was surrounded by people who embraced and encouraged my “blerdiness.” I bet if they were at the library reading, they wouldn’t have been trying to rob me or complaining about being bored.

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