Racism Is More A Consciousness Than An Issue

In 1968, after listening to Fred Hampton, Chairman of the Illinois Chapter of the Black Panther Party, I decided to actively participate in the war on racism. As Chairman of Black Students for Black Action, at Lake Forest College, I was involved in the threat to take over the administration building if demands for a black studies program, black instructors, and a tutorial program for black elementary students were not met. The administration conceded and a major battle had been won.

My personal conviction continued to manifest itself in both subtle and obvious ways, but it shifted when I became the only black apprenticed millwright at the Chicago Assembly Plant. My realization that the white apprentices knew more about machinery than I did, simply because they had been exposed to it more than I had, suddenly alleviated the sense of inferiority that I had unknowingly harbored for many years. My consciousness then shifted from competing with others to learning more about myself.

It is no secret that racism still exists and that black people are the most publicized victims of  this illusionary reality. I call it illusionary because all the negativity associated with black folk permeates the lives of white and other folk as well. By traveling to different countries, and seeing the similarities rather than the differences, I have found how connected we, the human race, really are. It was a 'white' guy in Amsterdam named Wilbert de Joode however, that brought new meaning to our   'oneness'. He, through his sharing, illustrated how racism is not an issue but a consciousness. When we view our lives through the lens of racism, it hinders us from seeing people for who they really are. If we can shift our consciousness then race can cease being an issue. 

Wilbert's father left home when he was 4, and he said that he was very uncomfortable seeing him when his mother died 12 years later. Although his younger sister longed for her father's presence, they did not hear from him again until he was near death. Wilbert expressed an undeniable love for his mother, and was certainly hurt and disheartened by her unexpected transition. He was proud of how she had raised him and his two sisters on a meager income, while bothered by her always having a boarder in the home to make ends meet. I'd heard this same story countless times before, but this was one of those rare times that I truly felt a white man's pain.


Wilbert is a bassist who plays improvised jazz, which I define as spontaneous   synchronicity. During our recent stay in Amsterdam, he performed with my wife Nicole and two other musicians, Hamid and Peter. When I asked him to comment on their performance he said that each of the four instrumentalists sent their musical thoughts up to an invisible fifth player; who synchronized these thoughts, sent them out to the audience and back to the instrumentalists. This produced an ongoing circular energy that every one present was a part of and participated in. It didn't matter that Nicole and Hamid were black, that Wilbert and Peter were white, or that the audience was literally comprised of people from all over the world. What mattered was that each musician had something to say. These individual stories were perpetually received and synchronized by the 'one' storyteller, and then shared as 'one' story by all who wanted to hear (feel) it.


I had heretofore seen racism as an issue to be dealt with, instead of as a state of mind that can negatively influence my interaction with others. I am black nonetheless, and until racism is non-existent, I will continue to see things from a black man's perspective. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. There are other stories however, in varied colors, and by allowing myself to hear them I can experience the 'oneness' that permeates the universe. My consciousness has been altered if not expanded, and now I can look forward to seeing myself as a part of rather than apart from the 'One' that is us all.

Thank you Fred Hampton and Wilbert de Joode for being you, and for helping me to see me.