Excellence Ain’t Equal
Currents
I have always striven to be excellent. As a black man in America, it seemed like the best way to be seen as equal. I attended one of the best universities. I played in the NFL. Then and now I give back to my community, embrace my artistry, vote, etc. Still, when I see a cop, I fear for my life.
During my years playing professional football in Tampa, Florida, anytime I got pulled over I always found some way to tell the officer I played for the Buccaneers within the first sentence.
"I'm sorry, officer. I'm just coming from practice, and coach killed us today getting ready for Seattle this weekend."
The officer’s eyes would light up, and then he or she would ask me my position, number, and name — always in that order. As this happened, I could feel my shoulders relaxing, knowing I had bought myself another day. Yet, in those moments after declaring myself a player in the NFL, I was deemed innocent and excellent — but not equal. Perhaps I was a fool to accept this designation as good enough, but when you are a black man going through your day to day, avoiding death often seems that way.
All this time, I was trying to add value to my life, but I realize now that I was not what needed changing. Excellence does not justify one’s right to life. I will continue to be the best version of myself for me, but my life matters because I am equally human. Being black shouldn't be a death sentence.
James Baldwin, one of my inspirations, was harsh in his criticism of America. His work speaks poignantly about black people not being seen as human, and how whiteness is depicted as innocence in America, while blackness is seen as a deteriment to American purity. This analysis rings true with me now more than ever.
After the gruesome murder of George Floyd, many of us, myself included, felt what James Baldwin felt all those years ago: the searing reality that change could not wait any longer. Though we celebrate the strides and achievements of well-known activists like Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Baldwin points out, in a 1979 speech he made at Berkeley, that we are still fighting for the dream that these men dedicated and sacrificed their lives for. In another interview, Baldwin states, "You always told me, 'It takes time.' It's taken my father's time, my mother's time, my uncle's time, my brothers' and my sisters' time. How much time do you want for your progress?" Still, Baldwin believed we could achieve equality.
With George Floyd's last breath, this visceral question of progress entered the minds of black people and anti-racists across the world. Excellent or not, when will black lives matter? When will black people also be treated as innocent until proven guilty? How much longer until our lives are seen as equal? I believe that as a nation, we are finally starting to answer the question that James Baldwin posed to us so many years ago. And the answer is now.
