D.O.C.S. (Death of Code-Switching)
“Peace up, A-Town down…” - Jeezy in “Bang”
Earlier this year, Jeezy, one of my all-time favorite artists, dropped a live, Color of Noize Orchestra-partnered performance of his 2005 major label debut LP, Thug Motivation:101.
Rewind 20 years and there’s not a snowball-in-hell’s chance I could have conceived of The Snowman expanding the bounds of his artistry thusly; straight up, the performance is magnificent, Jeezy and Color of Noize lit up the venue, and the crowd was electric.
(If you like the hip-hop and orchestra combo, Cypress Hill and the London Symphony Orchestra partnered on another wonderful project this past year.)
Fast forward to this October, I was listening to TM:101 (Live) as Kobe the Boykin Spaniel, my van, and I pulled into Atlanta; the three of us (Yes, I’m personifying the van!) were midway-ish through what ended up as a 33-state, 8,300-mile lap or so of the States (Recap dropping soon!).
Pretty much.
The trip followed the most-challenging, rewarding professional year of my career. If you live in/around Bellingham (WA), Whatcom, or Skagit Counties, you may have even heard or read about it.
The short version: Northwest Youth Services (NWYS), a 50-year old non-profit working to end youth & young adult homelessness, needed help. The NWYS Board of Directors asked me to step in as interim CEO/ED to assess, stabilize, and begin the much-needed organizational transformation.
The slightly longer version: (VIDEO to publish week of when I get to it).
“Them alphabet boys got us under surveillance (Ay) / Like animals, they lock us in cages…” - Jeezy in “Soul Survivor (f/ Akon)”
The bottom line: Our youth- and young adult-serving systems and institutions, be they public, private, or non-profit, must hold themselves to the highest standards of operation and care while centering the needs and wellbeing of the young people they serve.
Life in the States is no joke, especially for at-risk 13-to-24 year olds. If you’re a young person and BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, and/or come from a disadvantaged economic, familial, or geographic (page 10 is relevant) background, life can be considerably more challenging (mildly put).
They deserve our best. If we don’t give it to them, other parts of the system are ready to step in.
If you’re Black or Indigenous and live in Whatcom County, your chances of incarceration are nine times higher than your White neighbors (ref: Whatcom Sheriff’s Office).
Unless you think our Black and Indigenous neighbors are innately nine times more criminal than our White neighbors, the system needs fixing.
If you think Black and Indigenous folks in Whatcom County are innately nine times more criminal than our White neighbors, then let’s talk about it. No, seriously, let’s talk about why you hold that belief. No anger, no bile, just conversation. Hit me at lance.e.jones@gmail.com.
“I’m what the streets made me, a product of my environment…” - Jeezy in “Thug Motivation 101”
I was born in Atlanta, Georgia and spent my childhood splitting time between “Tha A” and Washington D.C. (We’ll save the story of Delta staff cynically deplaning me out of my first class seat for another time.).
While my late parents’ marriage dissolved, they partnered well-enough to send me to great schools like Georgetown Day School, Woodward Academy, and the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. Big shoutout to all my teachers, administrators, and school staff who supported me and those like me.
(Thanks, Ms. Rodd, for standing up for me when I answered a question in math fast enough to elicit a mean comment from a classmate.)
My Dad, a lawyer and the first Black partner at (then) Ogletree, Deakins, Nash, Smoke, and Stewart, and my Mom, a Wharton/Harvard-educated political appointee and small business owner, were exemplars of grace, dedication, and professionalism.
Let’s touch upon “professionalism.”
Extra mayonnaise, please.
Back in the day, I performed well enough to earn an internship through INROADS, an organization “opening doors to opportunity” for talented BIPOC youngsters like myself.
At the time, I was proudly rocking an afro.
At my INROADS’ orientation, they told a room full of high-achieving BIPOC students that those of us with afros would need to cut them off, lest we be seen as “unprofessional.”
Teary eyed, I took the clippers to my afro later that night (Shoutout to the CROWN Act!).
The lesson taught: excelling at the best undergraduate business school in the world wasn’t enough to compensate for the fact that I was Black.
Let’s talk about “Black” as someone who speaks too well for some and is too dark for others.
Some time ago, one of my sisters asked me, “How do you define being ‘Black?’”
I answered, “Being Black looks like me.”
Popeye had it right, “I am what I am” and I am enough (Shoutout Alan Feinstein for convincing me).
I am equally comfortable on the streets, abroad, in the boardrooms, or in the respective chambers of the U.S. Senate and House (yes, I’ve experienced all of them).
However, in the past, I’ve felt the need to moderate how I speak, the references I make, and how I express myself. I’ve felt the need to hide me. Even Dad was fearful of me jogging shirtless around our 30327 ZIP code.
Tea spilled, I’m leaving code-switching in my yesterdays.
So be it, so be it.
“Last time I checked I was the man on these streets” - Jeezy in “Trap or Die (f/ Bun B)”
I am who I am: an intelligent, accomplished, empathetic, artistic, driven Black (Mixed with a bit of that Euro good good.) man.
Shoutout to my Dad for introducing me to one of the best words in the English language. A few hours into Sunday service at the Southern Baptist church, he used to swipe his nose like Mills Lane.
The meaning?
It was time to “absquatulate.”
Run tell dat!