I read the following essay in the 10th grade, in Ms. Joe’s World Cultures / English class and it had a tremendous impact on my life. She is my all-time favorite teacher ever, along with her counterpart, Ms. Wolfe.
First, as a big, Black man I can relate to everything Brent Staples writes about, the thunk of car locks, letting people clear the lobby before entering it, not trailing people when I walk, and whistling unsettling tunes like Steely Dan to ease the discomfort. Anybody want to call me ‘Deacon Blues?’
Most interestingly though, I came to like his writing style. His choice of words and way of wielding language, makes it easy for him to make what is undescribable by most brothers easily understandable by any audience. His use of humor is quite insightful, and without being to laugh at the nastiness of life, we would all go crazy. What can you do anyway? Ignorance is such a behemoth monster to try to slay. I printed this in my Myspace Blog, but I feel the need to keep sharing it. Let me know what you think.
-Furious
Brent Staples
“Black Men and Public Space”
(Originally appeared in Harper’s Magazine Dec 1986) 
My first victim was a woman — white, well dressed, probably in her early twenties. I came upon her late one evening on a deserted street in Hyde Park, a relatively affluent neighborhood in an otherwise mean, impoverished section of Chicago. As I swung onto the avenue behind her, there seemed to be a discreet, uninflammatory distance between us. Not so. She cast back a worried glance. To her, the youngish black man — a broad six feet two inches with a beard and billowing hair, both hands shoved into the pockets of a bulky military jacket — seemed menacingly close. After a few more quick glimpses, she picked up her pace and was soon running in earnest. Within seconds she disappeared into a cross street.
That was more than a decade ago, I was twenty-two years old, a graduate student newly arrived at the University of Chicago. It was in the echo of that terrified woman’s footfalls that I first began to know the unwieldy inheritance I’d come into — the ability to alter public space in ugly ways. (more…)
