Michael Eric Dyson

by Is Bill Cosby Right?: Or Has the Black Middle Class Lost Its Mind?

  Jackson’s latest venture, termed the Wall Street Project, combines his fight for equality with the intent to democratize capital, an extension of his belief that black folk and other oppressed peoples must demand a fair share of the economy. Jackson contends that “urban America has been redlined,” and since the government hasn’t offered tax incentives for inner-city investment, as it has “in a dozen foreign markets,” it is time to boost the economic health of black America by encouraging major financial forces to take the ghettos seriously. “Clearly, to break up the redlining process, there must be incentives to green-line with hedges against risk,” Jackson says. “When you place a car dealership or a drugstore or a movie house in these areas, you increase the tax base for the school—that enhances the quality of life. We’ve been so preoccupied with getting the government to behave in a fair and democratic way, we were not able to focus on the private sector where most of the jobs are, where most of the wealth and opportunities are.”61

  Many leaders have had far more understanding than Cosby has shown for the complex variables that make, and keep, folk poor. That is why it is probably best that he explore his gifts for comedy and leave the social analysis and race leadership to those better suited to the task. If nothing else, Cosby’s ventures into the realm of social criticism prove the non-transferability of genius; one’s position must be earned in every sphere or else it amounts to little more than concession, or, worse yet, a handout to the fortunate. Cosby’s celebrity has given him a big platform, but he must be much more responsible with his gifts and positions in talking about the poor than he has yet been.

  Even as Cosby further victimizes the poor, he seems to be a victim himself, of compassion fatigue, or what Barack Obama has gracefully termed an “empathy deficit.”62 Cosby does appear to have a crushing lack of spiritual empathy—not to be confused with maudlin emotion, or pitying affirmation, but a willingness to be kept awake in another’s bed of pain before lashing them for being morally asleep. It may be that Cosby has grown weary because he has tried to shoulder more than he can carry, or, perhaps, once he saw that the problems of the poor were deeper than his generous pockets and the will of the state, he got angry at them, instead of with them. It may do him good to recall that only a handful of black people in history have ever possessed his material blessings, but most blacks have, nevertheless, through faith, or a belief in themselves and one another, conquered slavery and apartheid and self-hate with a spiritual abundance that trumps rational deliberation and common sense.

  Perhaps the most damaging consequence of Cosby’s war on the poor is that they are left less defended and much more vulnerable to rebuff, even by folk—policy analysts, public policy makers, politicians—who might be sitting on the fence wondering what to do about the poor, and who now get a huge cue from Cosby that it’s just fine to leave them to sink or swim for themselves. In that sense, Cosby, much more than the poor he castigates, is supremely irresponsible. He has been given to talking about Jesus in his shrill sermons to, and about, the poor. Cosby lambastes the poor for “asking Jesus to do things for you. And you can’t keep saying that God will find a way. God is tired of you … Well, you probably gon’ let Jesus figure it out for you. Well, I got somethin’ to tell you about Jesus. When you go to the church, look at the stained glass things of Jesus. Look at ’em. Is Jesus smiling? Not in one picture. So, tell your friends: Let’s try to do somethin’. Let’s try to make Jesus smile.” What, indeed, would make Jesus smile? The answer is simple: If we “love mercy, do justly and walk humbly with thy God” as the prophet Micah says—and if we “love thy neighbor as thyself” as Jesus says—it would bring a smile to the Lord’s face. I think that the notion that God helps those who help themselves sounds good but is little more than the theological attempt to sanctify American individualism.

  The gospels, on the other hand, emphasize our collective responsibility as a community, out of which individual responsibility and standing flow. Jesus’ commitment to the poor is foundational to the gospels, and is a central tenet of the Christian faith. Beyond that, compassion for the poor is the hallmark of true civilization, sacred or secular. Cosby and the rest of us must learn that lesson and do as Jesus did. In fact, in his first public appearance, Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah and used his words to sum up his mission, one that all of us, believer and unbeliever alike, might adapt. As it reads in Luke 4:16-21 of the Revised Standard Version of the Bible:

  And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up; and he went to the synagogue, as his custom was, on the sabbath day. And he stood up to read; and there was given to him the book of the prophet Isaiah. He opened the book and found the place where it was written,

  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

  because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.

  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind,

  to set at liberty those who are oppressed,

  to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”

  And he closed the book, and gave it back to the attendant, and sat down; and the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

  It is left to those of us who have managed to do well, those of us who, in the words of faith, are blessed, to help fulfill Jesus’ words. Obviously Cosby has forgotten a crucial concept Jesus advocated: “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required.”63

  Perhaps we should turn to another legendary black figure with Philadelphia connections, W.E.B. Du Bois, for just such compassion and insight.

  Above all, the better classes of the Negroes should recognize their duty toward the masses. They should not forget that the spirit of the twentieth century is to be the turning of the high toward the lowly, the bending of Humanity to all that is human; the recognition that in the slums of modern society lie the answers to most of our puzzling problems of organization and life, and that only as we solve those problems is our culture assured and our progress certain… . So hard has been the rise of the better class of Negroes that they fear to fall if now they stoop to lend a hand to their fellows… . This is especially true in a city like Philadelphia which has so distinct and creditable a Negro aristocracy; that they do something already to grapple with these social problems of their race is true, but they do not yet do nearly as much as they must, nor do they clearly recognize their responsibility. Finally, the Negroes must cultivate a spirit of calm, patient persistence in their attitude toward their fellow citizens rather than of loud and intemperate complaint. A man may be wrong, and know he is wrong, and yet some finesses must be used in telling him of it… . [I]t will not improve matters to call names or impute unworthy motives to all men. Social reforms move slowly and yet when Right is reinforced by calm but persistent Progress we somehow all feel that in the end it must triumph.64

  Afterword

  “Niggas Come in All Colors”

  Let me tell you something, your dirty laundry gets out of school at 2:30 every day, it’s cursing and calling each other “nigga” as they’re walking up and down the street. They think they’re hip. They can’t read; they can’t write. They’re laughing and giggling, and they’re going nowhere.

  Long before his most controversial speech, Bill Cosby gave another address that suggests he possessed precisely the sort of humor and wordplay against which he has recently raged. Speaking to the Congressional Black Caucus’s first national gathering in 1971, Cosby took his turn at the lectern after a fiery oration by the late, great Ossie Davis, Jr. After a few introductory comments, he jumped to the heart of his remarks.

  “I think that all you niggas need to,” he said, half tongue-in-cheek, and the audience erupted in laughter for nearly half a minute before he could finish his phrase, “check yourselves out.”1 Cosby let the laughter die down a bit, but once he was rolling, like the good comedian he is, he rode the wave some more.

 
“So I say good evening, niggas, because … that’s what a lot of you gon’ be when you leave the room.” There was more laughter and applause from his well-heeled black audience. But he wasn’t finished.

  “And I mean the white people sittin’ there, too… . Niggas come in all colors.”

  Cosby was not only flaunting convention and bringing into his august crowd the word “nigga”—and it was that blackened version he smoothly, effortlessly deployed, not its derisive mainstream white pronunciation—but he was flowing in the vernacular, ebonicizing his pronunciation, inflection and intonation throughout.

  Cosby vowed that he would support the Caucus for the rest of his life, interestingly enough, because he was tired as a black entertainer of carrying the load that black leaders should shoulder.

  “The black establishment for too long has been the entertainers,” Cosby said. “And black entertainers very seldom get a chance to enjoy what da white entertainers have—that is to be able to go out on da Riviera wit’ sunglasses and float around on a raft. No, ’cause you know if you saw a picture of me out there on the Riviera wit’ my sunglasses on, you’d say, ‘Look at that nigga, and we up here struggling.’” The crowd responded uproariously, knowingly, since this was a prime moment of racial reciprocity: A black speaker was reveling in the privileges of inside communication without the need to explain that he didn’t mean “nigga” in a hateful way. Neither did he have to explain himself to blacks who thought it was demeaning for a black person to use the “N” word. In fact, he didn’t seem to care at all.

  Cosby went on to say that the black entertainer must still entertain, even as black folk had to get themselves together. Speaking to the black political and social elite, Cosby took more liberty, even swearing at the podium with a convincing display of transgression against the solemnity of the occasion celebrating black leadership.

  “And da people still have to get an ass-kickin’ to go out and vote.”

  Cosby claimed that “ain’t but one person together, and that’s Ossie Davis, just left here. Poured his heart and soul into a beautiful speech so you could make da sign and give a half-hour handshake to each other and den walk out and still be a nigga.” More laugher still.

  Cosby hit a prescient theme, telling the black folk they couldn’t blame other folk for their plight: White entertainers with a black sound, like Joe Cocker, couldn’t be held accountable when black folk refused to support black entertainers like Ray Charles. And they couldn’t blame Jews for opening stores in the black community, especially since they lacked the skill to do so themselves.

  “Ain’t but seven of you in this place can run a store,” Cosby claimed, to tremendous laughter and applause. It seems they were willing to concede their inabilities, at least for the night, or, at the very least, for the moment. Cosby stormed on, saying that young black folk must be looked after, underlining the need to get off of drugs.

  “It’s got to start with the young, too. Our young kids takin’ drugs today. They were takin’ ’em yesterday. Only reason why everybody knows about it now is ’cause white kids are involved heavily.”

  Cosby drew to a close and reminded his audience once again who they really were, despite their status and standing in the community.

  “So when you leave here, depends on just how long it’s goin’ to take you before you go back to bein’ a nigga.” More laughter, and applause, and recognition that Cosby was doing serious race-work in his comments. His vernacular, his liberal use of “nigga” and his pointed communication to folk he loved were all recorded and distributed to a wider audience on Motown’s Black Forum label.

  It is more than ironic that Cosby begrudges the same freedoms to the young folk of today. Times have definitely changed, circumstances have been hugely altered, but the persistent freedom of black folk, especially artists and leaders, to open their mouths and speak with all the spirit and spunk their people love them into, is what he could take for granted. Perhaps he should think about extending that same freedom to those he castigates for cursing and saying “nigga,” both of which he did that night.

  Acknowledgments

  First, I want to thank the millions of poor, black, struggling folk whose lives are an inspiration to me, and who, I hope and pray, feel the love and respect I have for them reflected in my book.

  As usual, I want to thank the wonderful Liz Maguire, my brilliant editor and intellectual partner with whom I also share a marvelous friendship. I am grateful to Chris Greenberg who has truly gone beyond the call of duty in so many ways. I want to thank Christine Marra for her care of the book, Brian Mulligan for his super design, and Anna Kaltenbach for her expert editing skills.

  I want to thank God for God’s love which sustains me, and for such wonderful friends, colleagues and family. I am thankful to my friends for giving me encouragement and support: Carolyn Moore-Assem, without whose insight and help I couldn’t have begun, or finished, this book; J.Van, for being magnificent, smart as a whip, and for the shout-outs, love and encouragement; to Robin Kelley, Deidra Harris-Kelley, and Elleza, for your support, and your brilliance and commitment to freedom; to Farah Jasmine Griffin, for your brilliance and your generosity of spirit; and to Susan Taylor and Khephra Burns, for your love and encouragement, your genius and your unwavering support.

  I want to thank my colleagues in the Africana Studies and Religious Studies Departments at the University of Pennsylvania—especially Tukufu Zuberi, a brilliant scholar and soulful public intellectual, and Ann Matter, a brilliant scholar and loving, nurturing mentor. I am grateful to the tremendous help, far, far beyond the call of duty, provided by: Gale Garrison, Carol Davis, Onyx Finney, Marie Hudson, Cheryl Graham-Seay, Valerie Walker, Darlynn Lee, Susan Cerrone, Cybil Csigi, Joyce Roselle and Pat Johnson. And for her magnificent, expert and incredible research assistance, I am grateful to LaTeisha Moore. It has been great being part of the Penn family.

  Finally, I want to thank my family, including my wonderful mother Addie, my stalwart brothers Anthony, Everett, Jr., Gregory and Brian, and my many nieces and nephews. I also want to thank my children, Michael Eric Dyson, II, Maisha and Cory Daniels, and Mwata Dyson, to whom this book is in part dedicated. And last, but surely not least, I want to thank the Rev. Marcia Louise Dyson, without whose steady love and deep devotion none of this—books, writing, lecturing, reading, preaching and more—could ever take place.

  Notes

  Preface

  1 “Rainbow/PUSH Coalition Holds 33rd Annual Conference in Chicago,” Jet, July 26, 2004, p. 4.

  Introduction An Afristocrat in Winter

  1 Felicia R. Lee, “Cosby Defends His Remarks About Poor Blacks’ Values,” New York Times, May 22, 2004, p. B7.

  2 There is a precedent of appellations seeking to capture the black elite. Nathan Hare speaks of the Black Anglo-Saxons, whereas William Jelani Cobb writes about the Afrostocracy. I have over the years preferred Afristocracy, emphasizing with the “i” the connection to the term African American culture. See Nathan Hare, The Black Anglo-Saxons. 2nd ed. (Chicago: Third World Press, 1992).

  3 William Julius Wilson, When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor (New York: Knopf, 1996).

  4 Elizabeth Warren and Amelia Warren Tyagi, The Two-Income Trap: Why Middle-Class Parents Are Going Broke (New York: Basic Books, 2003).

  5 Kanye West, sound recording “All Falls Down,” College Dropout, Roc-A-Fella Records, 2004.

  6 Hebrews 11:13 (King James Version).

  7 1 Kings 19:4 (King James Version).

  Chapter One Speaking of Race—Or Not

  1 Mel Watkins, On the Real Side: Laughing, Lying, and Signifying—The Underground Tradition of African-American Humor that Transformed American Culture, from Slavery to Richard Pryor (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1994), pp. 489-495. Redd Foxx and Moms Mabley would eventually gain a wider (and “whiter”) audience, but their blue style and insider racial humor kept them for years working the black chitlin’ and club circuit.

  2 Ronald L.
Smith, Cosby: The Life of a Comedy Legend [Updated version] (Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, 1997), p. 43.

  3 “‘Raceless’ Bill Cosby: Comedian Excludes ‘Color’ Reference from Repertoire,” Ebony, May 1964, p. 131.

  4 Dan Goodgame, “‘I Do Believe in Control’: Cosby Is a Man Who Gets Laughs—and Results—by Doing Things His Way,” Time, September 28, 1987, p. 62.

  5 Richard Zoglin, “Cosby, Inc.: He Has a Hot TV Series, a New Book—and a Booming Comedy Empire,” Time, September 28, 1987, p. 59; Smith, Cosby, p. 46.

  6 Stanley Karnow, “Bill Cosby: Variety Is the Life of Spies: For the First Time, a Negro Stars in a TV Series—and He Won’t Sing, Dance or Play the Second Banana,” The Saturday Evening Post, September 25, 1965, p. 87.

  7 Zoglin, p. 59.

  8 Karnow, p. 86.

  9 “Color Him Funny,” Newsweek, January 31, 1966, p. 76; C. H. Simonds, “Primarily a Guy,” National Review, October 4, 1966, p. 1008.

  10 “The Spy,” Newsweek, December 14, 1964, p. 51.

  11 Karnow, p. 88.

  12 “Color Him Funny,” Newsweek, January 31, 1966, p. 76.

  13 Simonds, p. 1008.

  14 “Color-Blind Comic,” Newsweek, May 20, 1968, p. 74.

  15 Thomas B. Morgan, “I Am Two People, Man,” Life, April 11, 1969, p. 76.

  16 “‘Raceless’ Bill Cosby,” p. 131.

  17 “Color Him Funny,” p. 76. One can’t help but read Cosby’s statement against the most famous formulation of black folk being viewed as a problem, authored by W.E.B. Du Bois sixty-one years earlier: “Between me and the other world there is ever an unasked question: unasked by some through feelings of delicacy; by others through the difficulty of rightly framing it. All, nevertheless, flutter round it. They approach me in a half-hesitant sort of way, eye me curiously or compassionately, and then, instead of saying directly, How does it feel to be a problem? they say, I know an excellent colored man in my town… . At these I smile, or am interested, or reduce the boiling to a simmer, as the occasion may require. To the real question, How does it feel to be a problem? I answer seldom a word.” The Souls of Black Folks [A Norton Critical Edition, Edited by Henry Louis Gates, Jr., and Terri Hume Oliver] (New York: W. W. Norton, 1999), pp. 9-10.