I’ve run this blog off and on for the past four years and loved every minute of it. But in an effort to consolidate my work the HNIC Report is on indefinite hiatus. Rest assured, I’m still writing and publishing. I’m just doing it in a new place: otbpublishing.com.

Thanks for reading and sharing,

Dax-Devlon Ross

Read the rest on 3FromDeep

]]> http://thehnicreport.com/2011/12/19/a-reluctant-fan-welcomes-back-the-nba-with-unopen-arms/feed/ 0 hnic http://thehnicreport.com/2011/12/12/vibe-and-vegas-show-dax-devlon-ross-2011-through-the-mind-the-mouth-the-heart-and-the-soul-of-black-men/ http://thehnicreport.com/2011/12/12/vibe-and-vegas-show-dax-devlon-ross-2011-through-the-mind-the-mouth-the-heart-and-the-soul-of-black-men/#comments Mon, 12 Dec 2011 22:39:03 +0000 Dax-Devlon Ross http://thehnicreport.com/?p=763 ]]> From The Vibe and Vegas Show:

During the month of December, we are going to present an interview series titled, “2011 From The Mind, The Mouth, The Heart And The Soul Of Black Men”. These interviews will feature Black men talking about what events or subjects impacted them during 2011.

Dax-Devlon Ross is a writer, author, lawyer and a artist.

During our conversation about 2011, Dax speaks about the “Occupy Movement” and Blacks reaction to it, Barack Obama, Herman Cain, Black male and female relationships, Blacks and their belief in God, homosexuality and the Black church, individualism and North American society, Troy Davis, Black men and the criminal justice system, the strikes in the NFL and the NBA and the message that it sends and what he is looking forward to in 2012.

Click to listen

It caught me off guard. I was still groggy. Morning was shrugging off a hangover. I’d unlocked the door, as always, and was reaching for the handle.

That’s when it caught me. My bumper, hanging their like a thirsty dog’s tongue.

After the initial shock — I literally turned back around and went back inside — I returned to make a more complete inspection. Dark scrapes above the left tire. Pieces of the fiberglass on the ground. The thirsty bumper still waiting for a drink of water. I’d hoped it wasn’t so bad; it was bad enough.

I was angry at you. But more than that I was disappointed. At some point whether in haste, a state of distraction or with reckless disregard you hit me and drove away.

Accidents happen every day. I was in one a few weeks ago. Matter fact,  the insurance  company called me just before I sat down to write this. I gave a statement. They told me not to worry. I was covered. The lady I grazed would get her car fixed. I went back to work. End of story.

That called taking responsibility. I hit her. I pulled over. I waited for the cops. I filed a report. You didn’t do any of this. And because you didn’t I’ve already lost time, money and at least a shred of my faith in humanity.

I did my best to be Zen about the incident. Mine was a first world problem, a middle-class problem. It was just a car, a material possession. I could get the car fixed. It wouldn’t cost that much. And it would be as good as new.

But being Zen misses the point. I shouldn’t have to clean up your mess. You  shouldn’t have simply driven away.

What is it I would’ve wanted, you ask? Money? An apology? An explanation? A good, solid swing? Better policing? More cameras on the streets? Really, I would take anything. Anything. Because the worst part about a hit and run is that I don’t know anything so I can’t do anything other than pick up the pieces, put ‘em in my pocket, and, in my case, drive to the mechanic.

I shouldn’t have to tell you that living in this world is hard enough on its own. The natural disasters. The brutality of the seasons. Accidents. Disease. Illness. The fact that people like you make it harder pains me to no end. You’re not the only one. I see it in our constant climbing, clawing and backstabbing to get on top of one another, in our abuse of authority and acceptance of mediocrity at all levels of society, and in our allegiance to senseless practices that serve no rational purpose other maintaining the status quo.

We can make different choices — choices that reflect our best selves — at any time. That’s the change I really want to see. I want it more than a new financial system, more than free healthcare, more than full employment, and more than relief from debt. Us making different choices. Us practicing self-efficacy. Us taking personal accountability. Us treating one another with real not fake-for-the-camera decency.

Forgive me for sounding shallow or naive, but, dammit, if we just tried a little harder the world could be such a better place to live. Which isn’t to say we’re doing bad. Despite the surprisingly widespread perception that global violence and random destruction is leading us to the brink of disaster, we live in the least violent time in human history, one in which the chances of you or I dying a violent death is as close to zero as its ever been. Even enemies are generally civil to one another.

But just because we stand a better chance than our ancestors of sticking around  doesn’t mean we should pat ourselves on the back. Civilization is evolving. Democracy is evolving. Our conduct toward one another should be evolving as well.

The greed I see Americans “occupying” against is just one sympton of the widespread epidemic. Greed is what we can solve through the systems we have in place. We actually have, at our disposal, the tools to prevent greed from running amuck. We can reign in wealth disparity. We can ensure that people are protected and safe and fed. We have the resources, the technology, the institutions, the intellect  and, I believe, the will to make more a just society.

But even once we resolve our financial issues we still have to address our ethical issues. How I treat you and you treat me and we both treat the world around us sometimes comes down to money but always come down to morals.  We have to be willing to take responsibility not just for our beliefs but our actions. And that can show up in all sorts of ways:

• How we treat others
• How we make and spend our money
• How we spend our time (and who we spend it with)
• How we use our power
• How we care for the environment

After I dropped the car off at the shop I asked myself what I would have done if I was you. I would’ve thought about the cost of fixing the car. I would have thought about my insurance premiums shooting up. And, you know, those are perfectly natural first thoughts, so I don’t blame you for being selfish initially. What I would hope is that I wouldn’t stop there. I’d take into consideration the chain of events that I’d set in motion. I’d acknowledge that driving away wasn’t a solution. That wouldn’t stop anything–not even my sense of responsibility. Sure, I’d forget. But then I’d remember. And at some point I’d have to face my actions. No matter what else I might be or do in the world, I would be also be a coward. Not because I drove off. Not because I left someone else to clean up my mess. I’d be a coward for one reason and one reason alone: I ran from the reality that we’re all in this shit together.

Regards,

DDR

Celebrity Coaches play a unique and powerful role in American culture. The late UCLA coach John Wooden won a Presidential National Medal of Freedom in 2003. A play about Geen Bay Packers coach Vince Lombardi is enjoying a successful Broadway run. Last month HBO premiered a documentary featuring Hall of Fame St. Anthony’s High School coach Bob Hurley, Sr. Tennessee women’s basketball coach Pat Summit shocked the nation when she announced she had Alzheimer’s this past summer.

Coaches operate at the center of our culture’s twin obsessions with moral virtue and victory at all costs. They are big name brands and national treasures, leaders and teachers, wisdom bearers and disciplinarians. They dictate and nurture. In a world of constant flux, they are often fixtures. The best of them model an unparalleled consistency and commitment to excellence. And in most cases they would do it even were not as lucrative as it is.

There is, however, a certain undeniable irony in Coach K (note how casually I refer to a man I’ve never personally met) tying former Indiana and Texas Tech Coach Bob Knight’s record the same week the winningest coach in college football, Penn State’s Joe Paterno, was ignominiously removed from his perch for his involvement in sex abuse scandal. Paterno’s removal set off violent protests on campus and triggered an avalanche of commentary and analysis from both sides that cascaded out of the sports section and onto the front pages of papers across the country.

Given this week’s headlines, it was both telling and chilling to watch a glowing tribute to Coach K in which a group of Cameron Crazies — those die-hard Duke supporters who paint themselves in Duke blue and white for each home game – got on their hands and knees to worship the Krzyzewskiville sign outside of the arena while another student proudly called  him a god and said he “is Duke.” (Equally telling was that the filmmakers, producers and network failed to edit or address these actions and statements in light of this week’s events.) In a different time we might look at these actions and think wistfully about college innocence. After what happened at Penn State this week, we know better. Coaches are gods in the minds of their followers.

And who can blame them?

Our elected officials fail us regularly. Our financial leaders seem only to care about enriching themselves. Our thought leaders are silenced by the echo chamber of idiocy. Our spiritual leaders have proven themselves all-too unworthy our faith and devotion. With so many of our traditional institutions in crisis, it’s little wonder that people — particularly young people — turn to sports and the figure of the great coach for solace. The team is the coach’s expression of his or her core values. Win or lose, what happens on the court or field is an unequivocal and unambiguous affirmation of his or her principles. For more than four decades Penn State was Paterno. For more than 30 years Duke has been Krzyzewski. If there’s anyone who can learn from JoePa’s abrupt fall from grace it’s Coach K. Paterno’s negligence (some say arrogance) broke a community and likely destroyed a program for the foreseeable future. The only other coach  in all of sports with the power to cause such widespread ruin to is Coach K. And I can’t stomach the thought of what that would look like.

The New York Times quotes  a statement Jordan once made to Abe Polin suggesting the late Wizards owner sell the team if he can’t make a profit. The statement is deployed to underscore Jordan’s hypocrisy now that he’s the owner boo-hooing about profit. A more appropriate quote would have been Jordan’s Hall of Fame remarks about Chicago Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf,

 He said organizations win championships. I said, ‘I didn’t see organizations playing with the flu in Utah. I didn’t see it playing with a bad ankle.’

Granted, I think organizations put together teams, but at the end of the day, the team’s got to go out and play. I think the players win the championship, and the organization has something to do with it, don’t get me wrong. But don’t try to put the organization above the players.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not  one of those who consider MJ a sell out or a hypocrite. Calling him names like that is too simple and easy. He’s an opportunist. He’s with whichever team he’s playing on at the moment. He’s always been that way. I’d even argue that’s what makes him special. A sell out shifts with the wind. As a player and now as an owner, “Air” is proving he is the wind.

There’s also a familiar element of that relentless competitor at play in the new Michael Jordan that, I think, contextualizes his behavior. We loved him as a player not only because he was great at what he did in the All-Star game or even in the playoffs but because on cold Tuesday nights in mid February when the  Bulls already had a playoff spot virtually locked up and he could have coasted through a game against Milwaukee or Washington, “Air” delivered. He played every game hard. He wanted to win every time he stepped on the court. Losing got under his skin. Losers pissed him off. That’s his mentality. And that mentality didn’t disappear just because the cartilage in his knees did. I don’t think I’m too far off  in saying the current labor negotiations are another opportunity — an increasingly rare one at that — for the Michael Jordan of old to flex his alpha male, take no prisoners muscles against the youngins. Is MJ’s ability to live the life of luxury he’s grown accustomed to at stake? Hardly. Does that make the fight any less meaningful? Of course not.

In all likelihood MJ looks at many of the players in the NBA and genuinely thinks he can still beat them. Fairly or not, he looks out on the court at guys who would not have had a job in his NBA (because expansion has watered down the league), who can’t perform basic basketball functions, who take nights off, who only play hard in a contract season, who walk into millions of dollars that they haven’t earned, and he thinks, “Why should I split 50-50 with you?” He can make a legitimate argument that his generation built the league into what it is today, yet most of his contemporaries never made the kind of money a slightly above average player makes today. One of those slightly above average guys is Charlotte’s Tyrus Thomas. The owner of modest career averages in the 8 points and 5 rebounds per game ballpark, Thomas will make $35,000,000 over the next four seasons, roughly $10,000,000 more than MJ made his first nine seasons combined. I see his argument. I get it. And even though its not fair to compare himself to other, less gifted players, he’s entitled to do as much. After all, he played most of his career for what would be considered peanuts today.

What will be interesting is how NBA stars currently signed to MJ’s Jordan brand will remember this moment. The brand currently sponsors Carmelo Anthony, Dwyane Wade Chris Paul, Ray Allen, salary cap poster child Joe Johnson and some 14 others of lesser stature. Where exactly the hard-line owner, former player and brand boss intersect is itself an interesting question. How does he separate them all? Do the players on his Jordan roster draw a distinction? How do they all fit together? And will winning as an owner  cost him as a brand boss?

Reports that the Charlotte Bobcats owner is leading the charge against the NBA Players Union have convinced me that since nailing this game-winning, career-ending and sixth NBA title-securing shot, Michael Jordan has been on a decade-long mission to dismantle his legacy beyond repair.  Yes, the man we once called “Air” is actively running his name and fame into the ground, sabotaging his own success, weaving a tragic-comic tale of his post-Chicago Bulls career that, at this rate, will soon equal the triumph of his playing days.

Project Demolition officially kicked off on June 27, 2001 with the selection of Kwame Brown who, a decade later and still short of 30, is already widely considered the worst number one draft pick in the history of the NBA. It was a decisive first move, one that, in retrospect, set a bold course for the next ten years.

Pretty soon it wasn’t enough that he’d taken a front office job with a team that hadn’t sniffed the playoffs in four years and tasted playoff victory in a decade and a half. No. The next phase of the project required a major act of self sabotage. Hence the comeback. Even as a lifelong Washington fan, watching him don a Wizard uniform was painful. Imagine Denzel Washington took a role in a sitcom on the WB. Imagine George Clooney starred in a Skinamax flick. Imagine President Obama’s next job was president of University of Phoenix. These are all bad thoughts that should never become reality. And thankfully they won’t. But Jordan was a man of a mission.

After  failing to lead the Wizards to the post season in his two seasons, Jordan’s knees gave out for good and he called it quits, though not before delivering  a string of notably putrid performances, including a memorable 2 point outing against the Lakers and a 6 pointer against the Pacers. The performances resulted in a stock downgrade that sank him from hands-down all-time greatest to merely greatest guard or greatest of his generation.  It was at this time that MJ also began sporting the awful string of  patchy mustaches. Despite his best efforts at metaphoric self-immolation, though, Wizards attendance skyrocketed.

Unfortunately after sullying his on-court career with the Wizards stint (one punctuated by rabid criticism of his teammates and a tragic inability to pass the mantle let alone the ball), MJ was publicly booted out of the Washington organization by the late Abe Polin, a man known by Wizards fans as both hazardously loyal and generous (he alone is responsible for overpaying Gilbert Arenas by $100,000,000). To his dismay, the sympathy points he gained by the public humiliation nearly offset the nightmarish two seasons.

Luckily, Jordan was able to hitch his wagon to the Charlotte Bobcats and pick up where he’d left off with Kwame Brown. As President of Basketball Operation his first order of business was selecting Adam Morrison with the number of 3 pick in the 2006 draft. Like his predecessor, Morrison is widely considered a top five worst draft pick of the last ten years.

(Lest I sound petty and mean spirited I wish only to point out that this wasn’t just a bad pick because he turned out badly. It  was a bad pick because anyone who watched any college basketball knew Adam Morrison peaked in college.)

However, since Jordan could only take partial credit for Morrison’s bustage (Morrison showed flashes of promise, including a30 point game in his rookie season before hurting his knee, losing his starting job and eventually his uniform), MJ set about finding new ground to break in his quest. He found it in an unlikely place: his annual summer basketball camp for rich guys. In this 2008 video (one I believe to have been leaked by Jordan himself in an effort to hasten his demise), CEO John Rogers beats the ex-GOAT in a one-on-one match with a series of crafty moves. See for yourself.

A year later a Jordan delivered the most entertaining Hall of Fame Speech of all time. It was called controversial. It was called petty. It was called tacky. I call it brilliant. Simply brilliant. What better stage to stomp on one’s legacy?

Never one to rest on his accomplishments,  MJ proceeded to appear in a series of Hanes commercials the purpose of which I’m nearly certain wasn’t to promote underwear but his new  mustache:

Six months later Jordan became the owner of the Charlotte Bobcats.  His new position gave him unfettered access to court side seats. He smartly used the opportunity to make various bold fashion forward statements — particularly his single-handed revival of the mock turtleneck, leather pants and weathered jeans looks — that have been surprisingly effective in furthering his mission to destroy every remnant of his once untouchable iconography.

Read Part II here

In “Ugly? You May Have a Cause,” author Daniel Hamermesh suggests offering legal protections for the less attractive among us.

In a paper entitled “Are Good-Looking People More Employable,” researchers Bradley Ruffle and Ze’ev Shtudiner report that attractive men who sent their photograph to employers along with their CV were nearly twice as likely to receive call backs than their less attractive counterparts. Meanwhile attractive women in the study experienced fewer callbacks, which could be attributed to the deep-rooted animosity, distrust or fear of those hiring.

In “Up the Career Ladder, Lipstick in Hand,” Catherine Saint Louis argues that wearing some makeup “increases people’s perceptions of a woman’s likability, her competence and (provided she does not overdo it) her trustworthiness, according to a new study, which also confirmed what is obvious: that cosmetics boost a woman’s attractiveness.”

An argument can be made that we already know that society treats better-looking people, well, better, and that all of the new research is really just redundant and wasteful, especially since it’s not going to change much. Which is to say even if we did away with racism, sexism and class distinctions, attractive people would still receive residual, unquantifiable benefits.

But in light of the Occupy Movement’s seemingly insatiable appetite for issues, is there room for a campaign against beauty preference?  Would those feel they’ve been unjustly treated because of their looks find a voice in the Occupation? Given the statistical information below, would that voice be given a platform at the General Assembly?

You may think I’m being cynical. I’m not. Being attractive makes a difference. A big difference. And if the idea is to address injustice in all of its forms and especially as it pertains to wealth distribution and employment, then it would seem that a movement with revolutionary pretensions would find space to tackle something as obvious as beauty, right?

I thought about the Chalky-Nucky dilemma after speaking with three African-American friends  who, on separate occasions, made essentially the same appraisal of Occupy Wall Street: ‘No, thank you. It’s not my fight.’

One holds a leadership position at a diversity non profit, the other is getting a doctorate in the social sciences and has worked extensively in urban education, the third is a trained political scientist who has spent his career working with young black males.  They’re all aware of and passionate about social justice issues. They’re all sophisticated New Yorkers in their twenties and early thirties. On paper at least they should all be in support of the Occupation. In fact, not one of them had even stepped foot in Zuccotti Park.

When I pressed each of them for an explanation, a reason why they wouldn’t want to get out there and fight for the 99%, I got the same basic response. We’ve been taken before, they all said. Not this time.

In as much as there are Occupiers working to organize a black voice  in the movement and build community across racial lines,  the dubious history of cross-racial alliances can’t be overlooked. Whether it was Voting Rights, Labor Rights, Women’s Rights,  or Gay Rights, somehow, someway people of color always find their issues weigh stationed, their voices marginalized and their rights delayed for the sake of the “larger cause.” Even now, as the Occupy Movement drips into the mainstream discourse, the celebrity endorsers from the Left who are being called upon to voice their opinions and observations routinely cast the Occupation as leaderless and populist even though its image is decidedly white and its voice increasingly middle to upper-middle class. Absent are the calls for the end to the death penalty that jump-started the movement and AWOL are the demands  for criminal justice reform. Both issues have long had a crippling effect African American communities and carry considerable heft among concerned blacks. The popular outcry of the movement is now solely against corporate capitalism and the uneven distribution of wealth.

This is the first lesson the Occupiers should understand about black people like the ones  I’ve spoken to. It’s not that they aren’t sympathetic or supportive; it’s that, like Chalky White, they’re weary of being used when necessary only to be sold out when convenient. And it’s this deeply felt resentment of past betrayals coupled with a distrust of  fly-by-night white progressives dating back to the the Communist Party’s heyday — not a fear of police retaliation that’s keeping this movement from branching into black communities.

When Barack Obama  first appeared on the national scene at the 2004 Democratic National Convention white and black Americans reacted to him differently. A significant slice  of white America fell instantly in love with the eloquent elocutionist.  In contrast, many black people, myself included, didn’t immediately jump on the Obama bandwagon. There were questions. Where did he come from? Who’s pushing him into the limelight? Why him? Even after he announced his candidacy for the presidency in early 2007, black Americans across class lines had questions. There was a kind of distrust then, too. Many resented the perception that they would vote for him simply because he was black. It took the emergence of Michelle, the historic Selma march, a resounding race speech and a host of other factors, plus plain old roll-up-your-sleeves work, to win black America’s heart. But once he won it, he had it. And still does.

This is the second lesson the Occupiers might heed. Black support and loyalty doesn’t come easy and cheap. Folks have been through too much. The wounds of racism are still too raw. The evidence of economic inequality is still too visible. They’ve been betrayed too many times. Their American travails have endowed black people with a discernment and discretion that has enabled their survival amid so much uncertainty. Of course, the danger of that discretion is that it can lead to apathy. But, when black folks do commit — and I believe that the longer the Occupy Movement lasts the greater the likelihood — history tells us they will give everything and then some.

After the third friend told me the Occupy Movement wasn’t their fight, I went back to Zuccotti Park. I wanted to look at the movement through their eyes. As I walked through the park I started to understand something that’s not easy to admit. I felt like an outsider. The Occupy Movement here in New York has a definite crunchy culture and hippy aesthetic that I  don’t identify with or fit in to. When I think about the movements that have defined the black resistance struggles here in the states —  Marcus Garvey’s Back-to-Africa Movement, the Montgomery Bus Boycotters, the Black Panthers, and the Nation of Islam to name a few — I think of style. I think of grandeur.  I think of audacious self representation. Whatever flaws those movements had, and there were many, they understood black people’s desire to associate with something noble. As insignificant as it may seem, anyone who has ever sought the support of black America has not only made a political statement, but a fashion statement as well.

The third and final lesson I would share with the Occupation Movement is that style matters to black people. For better and for worse, black folks are drawn to a vision of a better life. Notwithstanding the flashy lifestyle  you may see on t.v., that “better life” isn’t and historically hasn’t been wed to materialism. All people want to feel uplifted and inspired. Style is and has always been one of the ways black Americans express their dignity and power. Once black folks like my friends start seeing more people they can identify with not only in the mix but at the forefront, I’m willing to be they’ll start to tune in and show up.