What is happening to these young men? Who or what is influencing them? I submit that the absence of male role models and slanted television images of black males have something to do with it.
More than half of black children live in homes headed by women, and almost all of the black teachers they encounter are also women. This means that most African-American male children do not often meet black male role models in their daily lives. They must look beyond their immediate surroundings for exemplary black men to emulate. Lacking in-the-flesh models, many look to TV for black heroes.
Unfortunately, TV images of black males are not particularly diverse. Their usual roles are to display physical prowess, sing, dance, play a musical instrument or make an audience laugh. These roles are enticing and generously rewarded. But the reality is that success comes to only a few extraordinarily gifted performers or athletes.
A foreigner watching American TV would probably conclude that most successful black males are either athletes or entertainers. That image represents both success and failure. Success, because the substantial presence of blacks in sports, music and sitcoms is a milestone in the struggle begun almost 50 years ago to penetrate the racial barriers of big-league athletics and television. It is a failure because the overwhelming success of a few highly visible athletes, musicians and comedians has type-cast black males. Millions see these televised roles as a definition of black men. Nowhere is this more misleading than in the inner city, where young males see it as “the way out.”
Ask a random sample of Americans to identify Michael Jordan, Bo Jackson, Magic Johnson, Hammer, Prince, Eddie Murphy or Mike Tyson. Correct responses would probably exceed 90 percent. Then ask them to identify Colin Powell, August Wilson, Franklin Thomas, Mike Espy, Walter Massey, Earl Graves or the late Reginald Lewis and I doubt that 10 percent would respond correctly. The second group contains the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright, the president of the Ford Foundation, the secretary of agriculture, the director of the National Science Foundation, the publisher of Black Enterprise magazine and the former CEO of a multimillion-dollar business.
The Democratic National Convention that nominated Bill Clinton brought Ron Brown, Jesse Jackson, David Dinkins, Kurt Schmoke and Bernard Shaw into living rooms as impressive role models. Their relative numbers at the convention were in noticeable contrast to the black baseball players who made up nearly half of the All-Star teams on the Tuesday night of the convention.
This powerful medium has made the glamour of millionaire boxers, ballplayers, musicians and comedians appear so close, so tangible that, to naive young boys, it seems only a dribble or dance step away. In the hot glare of such surrealism, schoolwork and prudent personal behavior can become irrelevant.
Impressionable young black males are not the only Americans getting this potent message. All TV viewers are subtly told that blacks are “natural” athletes, they are “funny” and all of them have “rhythm.” Such a thoroughly reinforced message doesn’t lie dormant. A teacher who thinks every little black boy is a potential Bo Jackson or Eddie Murphy is likely to give his football practice a higher priority than his homework or to excuse his disruptive humor.
Television’s influence is so pronounced that one seldom meets a young black man who isn’t wearing paraphernalia normally worn by athletes and entertainers. Young white men wear similar attire but not in the same proportion. Whites have many more televised role models from which to choose. There are very few whites in comparison to the number of blacks in the NBA. Black males are 12 1/2 percent of the American male population but constitute 75 percent of the NBA and are thereby six times overrepresented. That television presents poor role models for all kids doesn’t wash.
These highly visible men’s influence is so dominant that it has redefined the place of neck jewelry, sneakers and sports apparel in our society. The yearning to imitate the stars has sometimes had dire consequences. Young lives have been lost over sneakers, gold chains and jackets. I dare say that many black prison inmates are the flotsam and jetsam from dreamboats that never made it to the NBA or MTV.
Producers of TV sports, popular music and sitcoms should acknowledge these “side effects” of the American Dream. More important are the superstars themselves. To a man, they are similar to lottery winners and their presence on TV is cruelly deceptive to their electronic proteges. Surely they can spend some of their time and resources to convince their young followers that even incredible talent doesn’t assure fame or fortune. An athlete or performer must also be amazingly lucky in his quest for Mount Olympus.
A well-trained mind is a surer, although less glamorous, bet for success. Arthur Ashe spent his whole life teaching precisely this message. Bill Cosby and Jim Brown also come to mind as African-American superstars who use their substantial influence to redirect young black males. At this time, when black men are finally making some inroads into the upper echelons of American society, we need more than ever to encourage the young to look beyond the stereotypes of popular culture.
