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Diary

Accountability Check for 2019

December 31, 2018 by oldgoldsoul

Welp, I didn’t publish anything in 2018.

But:

  • I did make a decision to expand my one-short short story into an anthology, named it Time, selected a phenomenal cover designer, finished editing it, and now nearly done formatting it.
  • I finished editing Yours in the Bond and found a brilliant illustrator to bring the cover to life.
  • I devised a plan to become a full-time writer.
  • I sketched out/outlined the entire cycle of Dark Nation novels, which seems like it’s going to be a ten book series all together. (Some of those were going to be standalone novels, but I decided to string them together in the same universe.)
  • I saw Message from ‘The Legba’ performed!

I think that’s a productive 2018, considering I still had a stressful, but meaningful full-time job. That’s a win.

So for 2019, by this date I should have published the above two projects and completed the first draft for another.

A modest goal, for me, that leads into my full-time goal of writing two to three books a year.

As always, thanks for letting a brother roll with you through this thing called writing. See you in 2019!

Here’s a photo of me on a pot, because why not?

Filed Under: Diary, Writing Tagged With: time, Writing, yours in the bond

Performative Wokeness

December 6, 2018 by oldgoldsoul

December 6, 2018: Breaths shallow, teeth clenched, mouth curled into a sneer: I am livid.

My school is slowly adopting restorative practices to improve our connection to one another and to our students.  My organization, The Apollonians, has also adopted restorative practices as a cornerstone principle.  We wanted to be part of a group that recognized good ways to deal with inevitable conflict.

So when I discovered there was a new independent film out about restorative practices and the life of one of its practitioners–a black man–I felt I needed to see and support this film.  A screening was hosted at my alma mater and I went immediately after work.  I wanted to go home, but my colleague said “Darden, one day you will legitimately be too old to feel like doing anything after work.  You know you want to see it, so just go.”

I did.

It was okay.

Here’s what made me livid:

After the screening, we were invited to stay for a question and answer session with the main subject of the film and the filmmaker, a white man.  After a promising start, in which the subject explained how he came to grant the white filmmaker access to these black lives, I decided to ask my question.  I explained that I was a teacher at a local alternative school who has accepted the challenge of bringing restorative practices to our community.  I said that, presuming his school was like mine, then there would be a significant number of students with IEPs.  How does he, or how does one have a restorative circle when the student has needs that fall outside of the typical realm?

Almost immediately, I knew I had not been heard.  Maybe I misspoke.  Maybe I wasn’t clear in what I was conveying.

This fellow practitioner–my black brother–begins a screed about relationships, and how when we label students we separate them from us.  And he starts bringing up all these examples that simply didn’t apply to my school.  Meanwhile, the audience is grunting these affirmations as though what he’s saying is the gospel and it’s Sunday morning.

I remember being very confused, and he’s speaking directly to me as though I am supposed to affirm what he’s saying about relationships.  I turned to the audience and said “I don’t know where you people work, but my school isn’t like this.”

And it truly isn’t.  I can safely say that the Washington area is full of great so-called “alternative” schools where the faculties are guided by a strong sense of justice and radical love.  I really do believe that–even at the schools which may have closed.  I would confidently send my opportunity youth to most of the opportunity schools here.

The ‘brother’ continues going on about labeling students.  He then–I bullshit you not–uses a white woman as a prop to make a point about assumptions.

By now I am totally aggravated.  I was not in any way saying to this man “HEY BOB WE GOT INTELLECTUALLY DELAYED SUPERTHUGS THAT CANT BE IN A CIRCLE”  I felt, by this point, I was saying “I need strategies for differentiation.”

But as I looked at him while he reveled in the chorus of Amens and Yaaaaases, I realized a simple truth:

He ain’t one of us.

My friend Joseph just this week shared with his communities that he was tired of this idea of “wokeness” and that it just comes across as performative anyway.  In this moment where the subject of this documentary looked past me, literally and figuratively, in order to make a point to a largely white audience, I realized that this was his shtick.  This was his zhoozh.  This was his routine.

I wasn’t sold.  Moreover, I was offended.

As an educator, I asked a direct question that he either failed to understand or chose to ignore.  And rather than make the connection, he made assumptions and then spoke to a whole different audience.

The woman sitting behind me was particularly Ameny.  As the subject wound down his entry-level commentary to his well-meaning crowd, I had already decided that I would leave.  I stay in no space that isn’t my people.

I hissed at the amen corner “I was only asking about differentiation.”  She tried to respond to me, but I was already picking up my pea coat and book bag and went for the exit.

I headed down the ramp outside of the auditorium and was almost at the exit turnstiles of the lobby when a white woman came out of the auditorium to speak to me.

Here we go, I thought.

I presumed she was some sort of producer, agent, or manager, judging by the way she spoke.

“I just want to check in,” she said.   I wanted to tell her “That restorative shit don’t work on me, lady,” but I didn’t.

I said that the subject had made an example of me, didn’t respond to my question, and didn’t see me.

She explained that the subject uses various questions as launch pads for various talking points he likes to make while on his tour.  And since my question was so specific, he just took the opportunity to make it relatable to everyone in the audience.  And if I decided to stay until the end of the Q&A, she’s sure the subject would address my question more directly.

I told her that if she was so moved to relay any messages to the subject, to let him know that I am a black man just like him, not a well-meaning white person.  That I saw my life in his documentary, and that connection ought to have been enough.

I don’t know if she will tell him anything of the sort.  I don’t care a whole lot because the damage has been done: a fellow black man treated me as though I didn’t know what I was talking about in a room full of people who agreed with him, yet they didn’t know me or my story.

But I knew his, and I know he wasn’t one of us.

Who is us?

The people who do it because it’s right, because it’s us, and because we’re here.

I’m talking about whatever it is:  justice work, equity work, community service, philanthropy.

I’m talking about my friend who donated a baby stroller to one of my students last year, just because I was asked, and just because I asked her.  My same friend who is the mother of #WhitePrivilegeWednesday.

I’m talking about my friend, the preacher, who travels into the worst of the worst communities and serves these youth to help them turn their lives around.  Yes, he is a Christian, but he is one of the few who has told me himself that he will serve all youth, gay or straight, cis or trans.

I’m talking about my coworkers, past or present, who could easily be making six figure salaries elsewhere, but choose this work because it’s right, it’s us, and we’re here.

Not because service makes them feel good.

Not because they feel guilty about their privilege.

There will always be those for whom wokeness is a performance.  Sometimes, that wokeness performs as a white Kappa with an average shimmy, publishing papers in black spaces.  And sometimes that wokeness performs as not seeing your brother as your brother, but instead using him as a point to make in front of a white gaze.

And then for a white woman to come “check in.”  T’uh!

I was livid.  Now I’m good.  My people are still my people and the work is still the work.

The beat goes on.

Filed Under: Culture, Diary, Education Tagged With: restorative justice, restorative practices

Giving

December 2, 2018 by oldgoldsoul

Friday, November 30, 2018

I am looking out of the window at three o’clock in the afternoon after five straight days of teaching.  It’s been a long week–not exceptionally taxing, but long nonetheless.  My door is propped open, to air out the faint, but constantly lingering aroma of marijuana, now trapped in my student’s coats in the cold weather.  There is no cloak room in my class, nor is there one on the corners and in the alleys where they smoke, so the stale stench follows them like a stray cat.

I hear my colleague say from the hallway, in her thick Cuban accent that reminds me of Pedro Zamora, “No, don’t thank me.  Mr. Darden facilitated this.” [Read more…] about Giving

Filed Under: Culture, Diary, Education, Fraternalism

DPE: It’s time for a spin-off

September 8, 2018 by oldgoldsoul

I have been following with great interest, and ultimately great sadness, the recent developments of Delta Phi Epsilon Professional Foreign Service Fraternity that have made it to the media.

According to articles published in The Chronicle of Higher Education and The Hoya [9/7; 8/29], DPE, the nation’s first and apparently only professional fraternity for students interested in foreign service, is plagued with stagnant, problematic leadership and dissatisfied members.  Its general secretary has been accused of sexism and xenophobia, and members from various chapters have essentially held recruitment boycotts.

I am not a member of DPE.  I remember well the pledge pins of the young men who each semester would make their commitment to the organization.   My own Alpha Phi Omega members used to hear rumors that DPE pledges would get “bonus points” for stealing one of our pledge books.   I even had a little brother in APO who dropped from our process and joined DPE the following year.  And every year, I looked forward to seeing the “staircase photo” of the new members of DPE in their tuxedos and sashes.

[Read more…] about DPE: It’s time for a spin-off

Filed Under: Diary, Fraternalism Tagged With: Delta Phi Epsilon, Georgetown, St. Clair Bourne

Six Months Later

July 24, 2018 by oldgoldsoul

I remember when I used to be a prolific blogger.  Now I’m just addicted to social media.  *sigh*

[Read more…] about Six Months Later

Filed Under: Diary, London, Travel, Writing

You’ve been to Wakanda. Now welcome to Dardenland.

February 18, 2018 by oldgoldsoul

Well, hello there!

My name is Rashid Darden.  You might know me from this video from Channel 4:

 

If this is your first time visiting my page, or your first time in a while, welcome!  This site has had several incarnations over the years.  It is primarily an introduction to my life as a novelist.  I love writing.  Although I was a creative person at a young age, it was the encouragement of the late, great poet Elaine Magarrell through the Scholars in the Schools program in DC, that really made me believe I could be a writer as a profession.  Through guest presenters like her, teachers like Sarah Clark, and a loving, supportive mother, I knew that I had within me all that I needed to change this world.

I am unapologetically black, unapologetically gay, and active in my community through several organizations.

I am quite particular about how I wish to be contacted.  If you’re a reader or a fan of my commentary, please reach out through your favorite social media outlets, which are listed on my contact page.  That page also lists how to book me for a speaking engagement.

If you have my email address, that’s a poor way to reach me.  If you have my number, that’s a poor way to reach me.  Social media is truly the best way.

If you have a very strong opinion about something I’ve written, something I’ve said, the way I shake my head when speaking, or the way I don’t pick out my afro, please leave those comments on social media or post them on your own pages.  I can assure you that your private contact won’t change me unless it comes accompanied by a life-altering cashier’s check.

At the end of the day, we all out here just trying to make it.  I appreciate your support and I welcome you read my past blog entries and to even purchase some of my books.  And if you do, please leave a review!

Filed Under: Culture, Diary

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