The topic of diversity in law schools is one that I have a vested interest in. I’m a Black male. I went to what, in my opinion, was an excellent law school in the District of Columbia. My law school was one of the “better” ones when it came to both racial and gender diversity: more women than men and more Latino students than even Black students. I don’t think I ever felt isolated. I certainly never felt my views were discounted or presupposed to be a certain way based on my race. However, I also recognize that my experience in law school may have been unique in many regards.

Far too often, minorities in law school do feel isolated. The comments of their classmates often betray the sheltered upbringing they have had when it comes to issues of race or gender and the law. One’s experiences shade what one considers reasonable, or appropriate, or even fair. I think the most eloquent expression of what many minorities face in law school came in the form of a video produced by law students at UCLA. Take a look:

The discussion about diversity in law school is often seen through the lens of statistics — minority applicant numbers, average LSAT scores, yield rates, and so on. But what that video beautifully illustrates is the human perspective behind the debate. Through first-hand testimonials, it shows just how striking the effect of underrepresentation can be on the student. Yet many still ask: “Why should there be more minorities in law schools?” “If there aren’t more,” they say, “there must not be many qualified applicants applying.” But even this notion fundamentally misunderstands the call for greater minority representation in law schools and the legal community.

While I’ve noted that diversity in law classrooms should be more than about sheer numbers, numbers certainly help inform the debate. So a certain amount of counting must be done to set the stage for the analysis.

In fall 2010, when a young Dominic began law school in the nation’s capital, the Law School Admissions Council reports that 60,400 individuals were admitted to law schools across the country. Of those admitted applicants, a scant 4,680 self-identified as African American. I’m not so good at math [that’s why I chose the law] but the calculator app on my iPhone says that’s around 8 percent of admitted students. Some might say that is pretty good, but let’s drill down and take things school by school.

According to the most recent data provided to the American Bar Association, Harvard Law School reports that 8.9 percent of its JD enrollment identify as African American and 8.8 percent as Hispanic. At Columbia University, 7.1 percent identify as African American and 7.4 percent as Hispanic. Moving over to the west coast, Berkeley School of Law reports that a mere 3.9 percent of its JD enrollment identify as African American.That’s 33 individuals out of about 900 total. At the University of Michigan Law School, only 36 of 1,124 students identify as African American. The University of Chicago Law School: 38 of 610. Without belaboring the point, from these numbers it is quite easy to see how these students might yearn for more diversity in their 1L classes.

What becomes problematic for the minorities pursuing their legal education are the responses they often receive from peers and commentators in the media. Much of the response to the UCLA law students was centered on the theme of “you-should-have-known-what-you-were-getting-into.” Because putting the onus on the student for the amazing lack of diversity is sooooo the right thing to do.

The personal reasons a student of color might want diversity in the classroom are adequately portrayed in the video. From a macro perspective, the nation’s premier law schools feed into the nations’ premier law firms and the halls of government. From my humble perspective, it only makes sense that as our country becomes more diverse, the people who largely write our nation’s laws and set the national debate at the highest levels should reflect that very same increase in diversity. Not for selfish reasons, or from some sense of racial entitlement, but rather from a pragmatic perspective.

Without a doubt some law schools are trying, but in today’s competitive law school market, where spaces at premier schools are finite and legal jobs even more so [I’m pretty sure something is either finite or it isn’t, but whatever], law schools are struggling to keep standards high. Often this means sacrificing other metrics that might enliven the discourse in the classroom. Racial identity and socioeconomic status are eschewed in favor of median GPAs and LSAT scores — each student boiled down to what US News says a law school should value rather than recognizing the unique contribution minority students can bring to classrooms.

Alas, it seems minority students at law schools around the country may continue to feel like they have to be the lone voice for their race in a world that has not had to listen to their perspective very much before. Studying the law is an endeavor that should lead to cross-cultural communication. I always felt law school should be more than just learning the black letter, but asking why the law is as it is. Whom does the law serve? Whom does the law benefit? Without a vibrant and active minority opinion present to challenge assumptions, browner voices are often drowned out or discounted. What we don’t want is for law schools to become increasingly more homogeneous with the same views reifying institutions that have always existed to serve the majority.

Maybe more students at more law schools should make more videos.

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post In the Law School Classroom, Color Counts appeared first on Law Street.

The effect of crime on society is often — and justifiably so — more victim-focused than offender-focused. We tend to think of someone breaking the law as an affront to society at large. That’s why in some states criminal cases are titled “The People v. ______.” To be sure, in many ways our criminal justice system is retributive. We are meant to feel some form of solace when someone is punished for offending the morals and values of society in the form of breaking the law. But I ask, when has our justice system gone too far? When do the  consequences on the offender far outstrip the damage that person did to society?

Two words: Felony Disenfranchisement.

Felony disenfranchisement is a so-called collateral consequence — the impediments to normal life and reintegration convicted persons suffer beyond their actual sentence of incarceration or supervision — and is often seen as part-and-parcel of our criminal justice system. While some may feel having been incarcerated is enough for an individual to pay their debt to society, still many others think that when you choose to break the law, you do so with the implicit acknowledgement that because you have deviated from the norms of our culture, you must take all the bad that comes from that deviation. A cold look at the facts, particularly in the area of felons who have been released from their conditions of custody being permanently denied their fundamental right to vote, might convince some to change their minds.

The Sentencing Project estimates that about 5.8 million Americans are denied their right to vote due to laws that prohibit voting by convicted felons. As a matter of perspective, that’s like the entire population of the State of Wisconsin not being allowed to vote.

The disparate impact these laws have on minority communities is quite telling. These draconian laws lead to 1 in every 13 African Americans not being able to vote due to felony conviction. According to Attorney General Eric Holder’s recent statements on this issue at Georgetown University Law Center, 1 in 10 people in the state of Florida may no longer vote due to its laws restricting felony voting. Did I mention that 38 percent of those nearly six million Americans are Black? The Attorney General is now leading the charge to help push policy reform in this area, and for that he should be applauded. In his own words:

“These restrictions are not only unnecessary and unjust, they are also counterproductive”

I would venture to add that these laws are not only counterproductive, but oppressive. In a nation that considers voting so fundamental to the democratic process that  we have an entire amendment to the Constitution dedicated to it, one might think these laws would have been struck down by now. Alas, the Supreme Court in Richardon v. Ramirez, 418 U.S. 24 (1974) upheld the California law disenfranchising felons by pointing to the lesser known section 2 of the 14th amendment which states:

“But when the right to vote at any election for the choice of electors for President and Vice President of the United States, Representatives in Congress, the Executive and Judicial officers of a State, or the members of the Legislature thereof, is denied to any of the male inhabitants of such State, being twenty-one years of age, and citizens of the United States, or in any way abridged, except for participation in rebellion, or other crime . . . .”

That last line, according to both the text of the Constitution and the debate history around the provision, allows states to prevent certain classes of convicted individuals from voting.

Yet more important than the historical practice of disenfranchising those convicted of a crime is the modern impact of the practice today. What does it say about a system that prides itself on the democratic process that nearly 6 million American are essentially left out in the cold? Sure, they could lobby their respective state legislatures to get these laws repealed, but they don’t have access to the most potent form of lobbying imaginable: the ability to disapprove of a legislator with one’s ballot. They must do indirectly what the rest of us can do directly.

We must ask ourselves what goals are being advanced withholding the ballot from millions of citizens. Is disenfranchisement really the deterrent to crime some hope it to be, or is it just another major impediment to the reintegration of people who should have already “paid their debt to society.”

Without a doubt, crime is crime is crime, and those who commit crime should be punished. It is not the fact of punishment but rather the nature and extent that motivates this analysis. Must we continue to isolate individuals from our society even after they have been released from confinement? When will it ever end?

Felony disenfranchisement is just one more badge on the permanent underclass our society is creating with many of its criminal laws. It’s time we move forward.

—

Dominic Jones (@DomPerinyon) is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films.

Featured image courtesy of [Rama via Wikipedia]

Click here for additional Law Street coverage on felony disenfranchisement.

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post Felony Disenfranchisement: Collateral Consequences appeared first on Law Street.

At first glance this post is about Abigail Fisher — but it really isn’t. What it’s about is an epidemic in modern American society. That disease is entitlement. The entitlement that led one girl, when she was denied to one college, to sue and attempt to invalidate an entire system that is bit-by-tiny-bit attempting to ease the wounds of discrimination in this country.

I’ll admit from the outset that I am not the most objective person when it comes to the issue of Affirmative Action. I am Black. As sure as the day is long and Martin Schoeller photographs make you want to exfoliate, I am Black. Now I am not saying that every Black person has to be in favor of Affirmative Action policies to be considered “down.” What I am saying is that my unique experience of Blackness in America makes me inclined to agree with one of my favorite Malcolm X quotes:

“You don’t stick a knife in a man’s back nine inches and then pull it out six inches and say you’re making progress.”

Progress means moving forward. In the context of higher education at least, one of the best and most effective means of ameliorating the effects of historical discrimination are policies that take into account race as one of several factors in determining someone’s eligibility for admission to a college or university. That’s what the Supreme Court has said and I am inclined to agree with the final arbiters of the Constitution even if one of them happens to be Clarence Thomas.

The latest development in what many thought was a settled issue of Constitutional Law after Grutter v. Bollinger laid down the standard of acceptable race-based admissions policies in higher education was the curious case of Abigail Fisher. Her denial of admission into the University of Texas at Austin spurred a lawsuit that climbed all the way up the ladder and landed at the Supreme Court in October 2012. Her suit, in brief, proceeds thusly: 1) she applied to UT Austin; 2) she was denied admission; 3) she actually went to another college; 4) but somewhere along the way she sued the university. Those are the broad strokes. Yet more important than her story are what the grounds of her suit mean practically. That’s what I’d like to examine here.

Entitlement: n. the feeling or belief that you deserve to be given something (such as special privileges).

I wanted to begin with that definition. It’s a feeling many of us have felt from time to time. Myself included. The Apple Care Lady. All of us. But the measure of maturity, I think, is how we step out of ourselves and our own selfish desires to get what we feel we are owed, and take a long hard look at whether we have earned the desired thing. Or rather, whether we deserve that thing. Abigail Fisher, after having been denied admission, instead of looking inward and wondering about her own shortcomings, decided that the primary reason, or even the only reason, that she had been denied was because she had not been born a “minority.” But was it really her race? Would she have gotten in had she been Black? I want to examine these assumptions that are at the very heart of her suit, and the overall discussion of Affirmative Action.

Assumption 1: Abigail Fisher’s Qualifications were good enough to get into UT.

According to Miss Fisher’s own brief before the Supreme Court, “UT is a highly selective university, receiving applications from approximately four times more students each year than it can enroll in its freshman class.” The question then narrows to whether Abigail’s scores and experiences were good enough to  beat out thousands of others.

Her stats: a) SAT: 1180 out of 1600; b) Cumulative High School GPA: 3.59′ c) not in the top ten percent of her high school graduating class.

I’ll let the University of Texas explain the significance of these numbers:

According to the hard data from Abigail Fisher’s admissions file, she would not have been admitted to the University due to the stiff competition of the applicant pool that year. Being in the top ten percent of her class would have guaranteed her admission. She was even denied to the provisional summer program that the University offers for those on the cusp of admission. More’s the pity. Maybe she should have worked harder or studied more.

Assumption 2: Other, less qualified applicants, were admitted because of their race.

There is simply no way to prove this. In her brief, Miss Fisher merely conclusively asserts, “[a]lthough [Fisher’s] academic credential exceeded those of many minority candidates, UT denied her application.” Well, yeah, sure, but still. Wait, let me give a more cogent answer. I am not an admissions professional at a flagship university. Neither is Abigail Fisher. Or her attorneys. The difference between us is that she seems not to realize this. I can conceptually understand that great schools could fill their classrooms solely with those who have 4.0 GPA and top SAT scores, but it is a reasoned and considered choice by the University to consider more than that. The admissions policy attempts to assign numerical values to often subjective factors…and the University is entirely within its right to do so.

Assumption 3: Other forms of non-merit based admission policies are totally acceptable.

This is perhaps the most sinister assumption that underlies the discussions of Affirmative Action programs. I might — MAYBE — be able to rationally accept the argument that race should not be considered in admission because it has nothing to do with the student’s merit. But there are other metrics — that have nothing to do with academic merit — that are used all the time to the benefit of those from populations that have been historically favored. Metrics like legacy clauses. Sports scholarships. Opponents of Affirmative Action don’t take their views to their logical endpoint. Their road only goes so far as to criticize non-merit-based policies that benefit minorities, and not those that benefit those of European descent.

The Supreme Court of the United States remanded Fisher’s case back to the Fifth Circuit, essentially punting on third and six instead of going for it and resolving finally the position of Affirmative Action in higher education. Yet I wonder less about the legal merits of this case and more about what it says about the American people. Affirmative Action, to me, seems a commitment on the part of our legal system to favor those who had been disfavored. Affirmative Action isn’t crippling the White race, in the same way Affirmative Action hasn’t elevated minorities into the stratosphere in terms of academic achievement. The cruel truth of it all is that those who had been most favored by every aspect of society for literally centuries feel so threatened by such insignificant and limited favor of the downtrodden classes in school admissions.

If that’s not entitlement, I don’t know what is.

—

Dominic Jones (@DomPerinyon) is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films.

Featured image courtesy of [Reid Sullivan via Wikipedia]

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post Entitlement appeared first on Law Street.

The law often does not have the same consequences for all people. This doesn’t necessarily mean that a given law is racist. Or even that a given officer tasked with enforcing the law is a racist individual. What it does mean is that though justice is supposed to be blind, the fallible human beings whose duty it is to carry out the law are not. This is never more true than when it comes to arrests for marijuana. This topic has been in the news recently in the wake of Colorado making marijuana consumption legal.

What I am here to talk about is the cold, hard truth about the state of marijuana use — and more importantly, arrests — in the rest of the nation where recreational marijuana use is still forbidden. Particularly what I’d like to comment on is the raw, and honestly quite refreshing take MSNBC anchor Chris Hayes had on the subject in response to a column recently written by David Brooks. I’ll let Chris do the talking and then see you after the jump.

Or this video:

The second video is telling in just how disparate the reactions of the general population are when the same acts are committed by individuals of different races. The young White boy is questioned far less often than the Black boy. In fact, people seem to deputize themselves and feel a sense of urgency to thwart crime when they see the Black person attempting to remove the bike. Indeed, it seems that if you are a White female, most people might actually assist you in whatever activity you seem to be doing. I guess next time I need to move or paint my apartment I’ll disguise myself as a White woman.

This implicit racial bias exists in the subconscious of us all. The idea that it wouldn’t also manifest itself in the decisions of law enforcement is laughable. However, what always astonishes me is when the calm, logical, legal explanations are utterly ignored by law enforcement seemingly so bent on finding crime where none exists.This is bound to foster a feeling of inherent criminality in many poorer, minority communities that is demeaning to one’s spirit and degrading to one’s dignity.

In the future, I know not to stand on the sidewalk too long lest I be arrested.

There go my plans for a lemonade stand this summer.

—

Featured image courtesy of [longislandwins via Flickr]

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post Profiling appeared first on Law Street.

This post is not about Kanye West but the title was inspired by him. The title, I think, can forevermore be used as a turn of phrase that attempts to express all the rage, exasperation, and downright frustration experienced by young Black men in America. Kanye used it to reference his experience of celebrity — how he felt trapped in a cage, with insensitive, often antagonistic, onlookers. The paparazzi often “tap on the glass” of his cage merely to elicit a reaction. His response to this madness? The admonition: IT’S NOT SAFE FOR YOU IN THIS ZOO.

Well, I don’t want to use this phrase to qualify my experience as a Black man. I’ve had pretty easy sailing most of my life. My family was working class, but I always had food on the table and a roof over my head. I never got into much trouble, and none of my childhood friends were involved in gang violence. However, that’s more than the urban youth of Chicago can say. Those Black and minority boys are portrayed in the media as nearly subhuman. They are demonized and vilified to the point where some cease to care if they continue the violence that has plagued Chicago recently. I’d argue that there is more to the story.

News about the urban violence in Chicago is inescapable. It’s almost a given that Chicago is synonymous with gun violence these days. There is news of raising minimum sentences for repeat offenders who are involved in violent crimes using guns and would require the person to serve no less than 85% of the sentence imposed. I could spend an entire post chronicling the problems with mandatory minimum sentences, but this most recent proposal seems somewhat tempered by a provision that does not compel the minimum sentence for a first-time offender. But will punishing offenders more harshly really act as a deterrent?

Many people’s image of Chicago is influenced by the popular culture. And no, I don’t mean the movie “The Untouchables” or that “Chicago Fire” show full of dusty white men in Fireman’s uniforms. What I mean is the image of Chicago, and Chicago’s Black youth, as exemplified by everyone’s favorite walking, talking dustball, Chief Keef. If you don’t know Mr. Keef, as he is hilariously referred to in some news articles, allow me to introduce him.

Okay so that’s not Chief Keef, but it’s a close representation of the young man. Here’s what he really looks like:

Chief Keef, born Keith Cozart, was born in the Englewood neighborhood of Chicago’s now-infamous South Side. Without deriding this young fellow, who happens to be only 18, his music and his media image are indicative of the almost rabidly violent frustrations of the Black youth in Chicago. He has an infant child. He’s had trouble with the law. In 2011, he was apprehended on charges of heroine manufacture. [I couldn’t possibly tell you how to manufacture heroine but then again, I guess you could Google it.] When he once left his home with a jacket covering his hands, and an officer stopped to question him, Mr. Keef (see how silly that sounds?) flashed the gun he was concealing at the officer and then ran away. The officer chased while Keef repeatedly turned around and pointed the gun at the officer. The officer discharged his weapon but never struck the rapper. Keef was eventually sentenced to home confinement.

His music is violent. His image is dangerous. But does that really represent the kid? I don’t think so. I think the rapper is representative of a Black youth culture in poorer parts of Chicago that simply doesn’t see a way out of their circumstances. Kanye once asked “what the summer of the Chi’ got to offer an 18-year-old?” Perhaps quite little. But I also don’t think it isn’t fare to scapegoat much of the violence in inner-city Chicago on a populace that is often caught in the same pressures that lead many others, of all races, to lash out with antisocial behavior. But I think the media portrayal of the city and its ills is almost a self-fulfilling narrative.

My point is that when you treat a group of people like animals, when you dehumanize them and talk about them as if they are a collage of violence, drug use, abuse, and distribution, they are bound to begin thinking that’s the only way to identify themselves. But you know what also happens? Sometimes the animals bite back. Sometimes the very societal pressures they struggle under become too much and they erupt. And I guess that was the point Kanye was making when he said “It’s not safe for you in this zoo.” The very idea of a zoo creates a false sense of calm created by the feeling of control the people have over the animals. We begin to believe that these creatures are at our beck and call. We become complacent with the environment in which we have placed these creatures without thought to the stressors we have put them under. And then someone gets hurt, and we wonder why.

Don’t get me wrong, however. Urban violence is not explained away by someone’s lack of social mobility. But neither is it a symptom of some incurable, violent rage that a subset of Chicago’s youth population has. It is more complex. Chicago is just an extreme example, but similar feelings of frustration erupt in towns all across this country. So lest the media fool you into thinking urban violence is exclusively in Chicago, peer out your window and examine the surroundings in your city. Recognize that when you dehumanize a culture you don’t understand, it might not be safe for you in that zoo.

—

Featured image courtesy of [ClaireUS via Flickr]

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post It’s Not Safe for You in This Zoo appeared first on Law Street.

While most of my posts concern the intersection of race and criminal law in America, I could not help but be moved to write this post on a video that has gained national attention. This video, featuring some of the Black male students at the University of California, Los Angeles, is a veritable cry for help that represents the pathos of Black males throughout most of the nation’s prestigious institutions of higher learning. Take a look at this powerful video first.

There are some stunning statistics in this video that bear repeating. Of the more than 19,000 male  students at the University, only a scant 3.3% are Black. Also, of the 48 Black male freshmen who enrolled last fall, only about 35 are expected to graduate. Some might wonder what the problem with these numbers are. They might point to the demographics of the state, or the admissions policies of the University. Or they might even go so far as to say all of the “qualified” Black males who applied got it, and there just must not have been thousands of qualified Black males applying to the school.

All of these responses are bullshit.

According to the Census Bureau, the total percentage of California’s population that is African American is 6.6%. So even if proportional representation meant true diversity [which it decidedly does not], the University would still be behind the curve. The admission’s policies of the University are of course set by the institution, and, since it is a school in the University of California system, governed by the Constitution of the State of California as a state entity. That’s where the problem lies. The video raises questions about the true meaning of “diversity” and whether Affirmative Action policies can, or even should, play a part in achieving that elusive goal.

Before November 1996, when California’s Proposition 209 passed, the public universities in California could pursue affirmative action policies consistent with the California Constitution and Supreme Court jurisprudence on the issue. The most famous case dealing with California was Regents of the University of California v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265 (1978). There, the Supreme Court of the United States upheld Affrmative Action policies in a general sense, but specifically invalidated the quota system that was in place at the time at the University of California, Davis School of Medicine. The medical school there was setting aside 16 of the 100 seats in the medical school for African Americans. The Supreme Court squarely rejected this quota system. What emerged in later cases from the Court as acceptable were Affirmative Action policies that considered race in a nuanced way and that aimed for a “critical mass” of minorities such that the diversity pursued educational goals of limiting minority isolation and tokenism.

Nonetheless, in 2009, the citizens of California decided enough was enough when it came to helping those minorities that had historically been systematically excluded from the avenues of higher education, and passed Prop. 209. This ballot initiative banned state institutions from considering race, sex, or ethnicity. Proponents of the the initiative considered it consonant with the Civil Rights Act in banning discrimination. However, it had the terrible effect of banning Affirmative Action policies in California’s public universities. This is how we got here.

Despite Affirmative Action being under attack across the country, officials at UCLA still want to pursue diversity. They lament the statistics highlighted in the video. But their hands are chained by the change to the California Constitution initiated by Prop. 209. More’s the pity.

Diversity is extolled as a virtue in every aspect of society, from academia to the private sector. But I ask, do they want diversity for the inherent benefit of expanding horizons and increasing cross-cultural understanding? Or do they want brown and black faces for brochures? The students in the video suggest the latter. In my own experience, having attended “diversity receptions” at BigLaw firms my 1L year, the answer is complicated. Have I felt that some of those firms truly valued diversity: yes. Have I also felt the push for diversity was an utter joke upon entering the reception and meeting the one female partner and two Black associates: yes. In higher education, diversity should be pursued even more vigorously than in the workplace. It is in the classroom that people engage in the freest flow of ideas and where one, often in close contact by living in dorm rooms with others, can most reach out and experience the life and culture of another. Having only a few token minorities does not accomplish this goal.

The sentiment portrayed in the video has been reinforced in my own experience. I attended a Historically Black College. Some of my other Black friends attended what we call PWI or Predominantly White Institutions. Yet it is often these PWIs that identify themselves as paragons of “diversity” despite many of the nation’s top state schools being mostly white. The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill is 66% White, for example. The University of Virginia: 61% white. The University of Georgia: 74% white. UCLA’s highest demographic is Asian. UC Berkeley: 37% Asian and 30% White. Despite the admitted mix, many of these institutions have minority enrollment in single-digit percentages. Not quite the melting pot they tout themselves to be.

More subjectively, the video illustrates the pervasive feelings of isolation that can stem from such limited minority enrollment. The men in the video make the analogy to Rosa Parks. Still more troubling can be the feeling of spokesmanship. In this instance, one must always signal that one is not speaking on behalf of the entire race. Similarly, one often encounters tokenism – the feeling from Whites that the minority was less qualified and got in solely based on race – whether or not race-based Affirmative Action policies are even legal or practiced a the institution.

The video has gained national attention and in many ways has fed the flame of the debate over Affirmative Action and the place minorities have in higher education. But have no fear, Black men out there, as the video poignantly notes, if you can play football extremely well, you can write your own ticket to just about any flagship state school in the nation.

Better start practicing, brothas.

—

Featured image courtesy of [BrokenSphere via Wikipedia]

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post A Cry For Help appeared first on Law Street.

“Can’t a young [    ] get money anymore?”

Prophetic words indeed from the twenty-first century’s most evocative and provocative lyricist – Kanye West – in case there is anyone out there who doesn’t recognize the quote. A very serious question indeed in a modern world where many of us, Black and non-Black, define our successes based on our material possessions. But the deeper meaning resonates with every Black person who has heard  the news coming from New York relating to one of the preeminent department stores in the country: Barneys New York. Turns out this lovely little mom-and-pop luxury store, which prides itself on drawing fashionistas the world over, had a little problem with some of their darker shoppers.

The story goes, a male shopper by the name of Trayon Christian, 19 of Queens, felt the inexorable urge to splurge on a designer belt, because, ya know, a guy’s gotta treat himself every now and then. So, with his hard-earned money, about $349 of it, Mr. Christian bought a Ferragamo belt. He bought the belt with his debit card, for which he showed identification, and then happily left the store. Upon exiting, it seems two plain-clothes cops handcuffed him and detained him for two hours. The officers apparently could not possibly comprehend how someone his age could buy a belt so expensive. The card had to be stolen. Mr. Christian had to be a thief, because, ya know, young Black people having money just doesn’t add up.

I wonder if the exchange went like this:

Officers: “Excuse me sir, can I ask you a few questions?”

Christian: “Umm, what do you want?”

Officers: “Did you just buy a belt from Barneys?”

Christian: “Yes, I can’t imagine how you’d know that, but why does it. . .”

Officers: “We’ll ask the questions here! I think we’re gonna have to take you in.”

Christian: “Why, I have a receipt?”

Officers: “Silly kid, receipts don’t mean anything when you’re Black and buy things we can’t imagine someone your age and race should buy.”

:: AND SCENE ::

Now, I’ll begin by saying I totally made that up and have no proof whatsoever that that happened. In that way, I am just like the officers who detained Trayon. Obviously they suspected he had stolen the debit card or something of the sort, and they had naturally no proof whatsoever that that was the case. But who needs facts, anyway?

But it didn’t stop there. Turns out another incident happened at Barneys, where apparently Black is the new guilty. Kayla Phillips of Brooklyn, 21, was confronted by officers at a subway station. Her charge: buying a $2,500 Celine purse. Again, I get all my advice on high fashion from Kanye, and he’s the one who told me when you have on the Zara pant and a girl walks in with the Celine version you feel like shit. Well, Kayla didn’t want to feel like shit. So Kayla, with her hard-earned tax refund, bought herself a designer purse, because that frantic purse dig for her keys that pisses off her boyfriend when it’s cold outside and they’re just trying to get to the car because they are already late . . . – I digress – just isn’t the same unless the purse is Celine.

These two intrepid fashionistas were simply trying to buy nice things. All too often the allure of keeping up with the Joneses plagues minority communities. Is it some underlying desire for conformity? Is it some thirst to bedazzle oneself in the trappings of the majority culture? Short answer: Yes. Long answer: Hell yes. But I am more concerned about what this says about our culture.

It goes like this: Black people were brought here as slaves. [Stop me if this sounds unfamiliar at all.] We were emancipated. We essentially languished for 100 years despite like five Constitutional Amendments and men like Dubois, Washington, Garvey, and King. We got some rights: voting, etc. Then we began to enter the middle class. We begin to live how the other half lived for nearly the entire tenure of our race on the North American continent. We began to believe in our hearts that the color of our skin didn’t matter. Then we sorta lost some voting rights. [Still wondering how the Supreme Court did that.] When it came to material things, the only thing we thought mattered was the color of our money. We were wrong. Turns out all that matters is someone in a position of power and his perception of you. Doesn’t matter if your debit card has your name on it and you showed identification. Merely buying something someone else thinks you ought not, or have no reason to buy, is apparently all it takes to stir up enough suspicion to be arrested.

Therein lies the hard truth of modern America. I have often in my time in Washington, D.C. literally stood in the middle of the street with money in my hand hoping to hail a cab. And time and again I have been passed over for the White couple on date night. Or the drunk frat boys. Greater than the inconvenience of just having to take the Metro is the shame associated with someone whom you don’t even know perceiving something negative about you based on no actions of your own.

I have never been followed in a store. In many ways, what happened to these two people is even worse. No one followed them expecting them to shoplift. They waited until after they had purchased their items to imbue them with the suspicion of illegality. So legally entering a store, legally shopping, and legally purchasing something isn’t enough to dispel suspicion? That begs the question, what the hell will?

At this very moment I am looking at my designer, leather jogging pants and wondering when the Feds will come knocking. I guess I could run, but you folks have no idea how impractical it is to actually do physical activity in leather jogging pants.

—

Featured image courtesy of [Alicia Griffin via Flickr]

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post Thursdays at Barneys appeared first on Law Street.

In news that shocked no one, early Sunday morning at the W Hotel in Washington, DC, singer, dancer, and all-around simpleton Chris Brown was arrested for allegedly assaulting an individual. The story goes that Brown and his bodyguard [who has to be the worst bodyguard in the world] assaulted a fan who merely wanted to get a photo with the performer. At this point, I’d like to make a ruling here as regards best practices when it comes to fans wanting to get a photo. We get it, celebrities aren’t perfect, they sometimes don’t want to be role models, and often just want to be left alone and would rather not take 10 minutes out of their busy schedule while you choose the best filter for your Instagram photo of them. However, it’s probably not the best to break the nose of a fan. Just, you know, as a general rule.

Brown was initially charged with felony assault. When the charge was reduced to a misdemeanor, Brown was released from jail. The latest development is that he had checked himself into rehab. Naturally, representatives of his say “[h]e just decided he wanted to take some time off and do some introspection.” Personally, I know that whenever I assault someone for seemingly no reason, my first impulse is to jet off to Malibu, play some Playstation, maybe read a Danielle Steel novel, and just look inward.

This could easily become a post about bashing Chris Brown. Trust me, that would be too easy. Brown is currently serving a four-year probation term for assaulting singer Rihanna. It would be easy to say that this young celeb has serious issues, that he is clearly a terrible person, and deserves the book to be thrown at him. But I’m not going to say that. What I will highlight is the fact that because Mr. Brown is famous, this new example of the Justice system favoring those it ought not favor, saddens me as much, if not more, than when the Justice system disfavors someone it should not disfavor.

What truly bothers me about this story is just how many chances Chris Brown, and just about any other rich person, gets in the criminal justice system. Entertain this hypothetical for a moment. Take away the fame and money from Chris Brown. Let us pretend he is just another Black male in his twenties arrested for assault in the District of Columbia. Now let’s ask ourselves, would the charge have been reduced to a misdemeanor the way it was. What is more likely is that Brown would just be another nameless, faceless defendant in the near-cattle call that is the criminal court of so many of our metropolitan cities.

I would argue that celebrities, and particularly Black celebrities, should be uniquely aware of the choices they make and how they are viewed by the general public. Chris Brown seems to assault people with near impunity. The very fact that he has the option to fly off to some idyllic getaway for “introspection” betrays a privilege that is so far out of reach to other young Black males as to be unimaginable. I have seen the cross-section of DC’s humanity that is a Monday morning at the H. Carl Moultrie I Courthouse. I can tell you that the legions of Black faces, whether defendants or relatives thereof, would give everything they have to get the second chances that Mr. Brown seems to have been the beneficiary of. But for them, their first strike often leads to funneling them into a system that largely looks at them as irredeemable and only suitable for control and housing in some juvenile, or God-forbid adult, correctional facility.

It would seem that if you can dance, or sing, or are in movies, both the general public and the justice system give you tons more chances than if you have none of these traits. This systemic hypocrisy is only made worse by the fact that it is not even applied consistently among all famous people of color. Michael Vick lost his spot on the Atlanta Falcons and years of his life because he sanctioned dog fighting. OJ Simpson was no different, though his attempt to write a “hypothetical” book about how he would have actually killed Nicole Brown Simpson gets an A plus for absolute lack of tact. It seems it depends on the category of celebrity that you are, when it comes to determining whether one should get the court’s, and society’s, indulgence.

Therein lies the rub for millions of other Black males who don’t get the public’s support. The Superior Court here in DC was flooded was supporters on Brown’s side. Singer Trey Songs even showed up to support. But I ask why should celebrities be any different? There are some that  say that persons with a high profile should have the book thrown at them. I am not one of those. All I ask is that the celebrity be given the same treatment of any other person in that same situation. No more, no less. I don’t think modern law schools still teach that Justice is blind, but it certainly shouldn’t be the case that Justice is starstruck.

I know for a fact that every other twenty-something African American male walking into urban courthouses around the country wishes he could get the second, third, and often fourth, chances that Chris Brown and his ilk seem to feel entitled to. Alas, if only young Tyrone from Minnesota Avenue, or Malik from Barry Farms here in DC could have a hit single. Then they might be able to escape the incarceration pipeline that takes so many of our brothers leaving them functionally-incapable of leading productive lives on the other side.

 —

Featured image courtesy of [Eva Rinaldi via Flickr]

Dominic Jones

Dominic Jones is originally from Atlantic City, NJ. He attended Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. followed by law school at the Washington College of Law at American University in Washington, DC. In his spare time he enjoys art, photography, and documentary films. Contact Dominic at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post The Brown Identity appeared first on Law Street.