Young fella… Let me holla at you for a minute…
I see what’s going on… She’s cute… not what you are used to… not “thick” like the girls from ’round the way… but cute nonetheless… Moreover, she’s always around… after practice… after dinner… outside study hall… in the lobby of the dorm. She always speaks first. She’s thirsty. She’s trying real hard to get your attentions. Seems like her wardrobe consists solely of yoga pants. You’ve noticed and she knows you’ve noticed. It’s just a matter of time ’til y’all hook up. Growing up you were never really interested in dating white girls, but DAMN it’s so many of them hanging around the team… You’re curious.. You’re thinking about it… Be careful young fella.
It’s a tough balancing act. You came to college to play ball first and foremost. Everything else is secondary. Academics? Yeah… the coaches talk about studying hard, but you (and everyone else for that matter) know their main concern is your development as a ball player. You are there to win games. Being a scholarship athlete is a job.. A full-time job… You are evaluated based on your performance on the court and on the field. Besides, if you take the classes they’ve lined up for you and work with your academic advisers you’ll be fine. You will graduate in four years.
But what about the blonde in the yoga pants? Let’s call her Becky. There’s no adviser to guide you through that situation. Young fella you are on your own. You have to rely on your own judgement. After a while, you decide to “hang out” with her. She has a BMW 3 series… nice… She has a credit card with what seems like no limit… Pizza? She’s got it… Wings? She’s got it… Movies? She’s got it… $50?… Yeah, she’s got that to…
Never, throughout all of your years in the “hood,” have you encountered a girl like Becky. You have no frame of reference for this type of “relationship.” It really doesn’t make sense to you… She’s not your lady… She’s not your girlfriend… but… you like it. You really like it. You’ve been conditioned to like it. When they recruited you, they put about 4-5 girls just like her in front of you for the entire weekend. These girls looked like Becky and they were ready, willing and able… You smashed. It was all good. You committed… “Coach, I’m coming to BIG State!”
So now you’ve been on campus for a few weeks, it’s Friday and there’s no practice tomorrow. A rare day off. You can’t believe coach actually has nothing planned in the morning. So you, two teammates and your boy from home decide to head over to a keg party at a nearby apartment complex. Soon as you enter the door, there she is… Becky… Y’all lock eyes… It’s a wrap, she’s by your side for the rest of the evening. You playfully flirt. You test the limits… How far will she let me go? You grab her ass, she’s ok with that… You kiss her, she’s ok with that.
After a 7-8 drinks things start to get a little “loose.” Y’all decide to slip off to the bathroom. You close the door behind her and she gets on her knees. The effort is there, but the constant knocking at the door is really distracting. After 10 minutes or so y’all decide to go back to your room. This poses problems for your boys. You’re the “man,” everyone knows you, not them. They are just dudes at a party. Your friends don’t like their chances of “hooking up” if you aren’t there with them. Everybody decides to leave. You, your crew and Becky head back to your dorm.
Michael Jordan’s Son, Marcus and friends
Upon arriving back at the dorm, it’s on. You and Becky immediately disrobe and engage in consensual sex. Very good consensual sex. So good, your boys have been listening at the door the whole time. As a result, they are drunk and horny. These guys are in a frenzied state of mind. When you leave to clean yourself in the bathroom, your teammate decides to enter the room. We have just entered the danger zone. Young fella… Make no mistake… Lives are about to change forever.
Becky sees him taking off his pants and gets worried. She didn’t sign up for this. She let’s him know she doesn’t want to have sex with him. He totally disregards her protestations. He’s gonna take it. He grabs her, places his forearm across her chest and pins her down on the bed. In a matter of seconds, Becky knows she has no options. It’s total mismatch. He’s 6’4” and 245 lbs. She’s 5’3” and about 120. Your boy… your buddy… your homie… forcefully spreads her legs and penetrates her vagina. He’s not wearing a condom. After a few minutes he lifts her up, flips her over and forces himself into her anus. Becky is crying. Her spirit has literally left her frail body. She has given up on physically resisting. She’s just hoping that this ordeal will soon come to an end. It doesn’t.
After wiping yourself down, you re-enter the room. The other two guys are on your heels. You see what is happening. Your boy is ravaging Becky. You know it’s not right. You know it’s foul. But you don’t take a stand. You are now complicit. Unfortunately, you are “down” – legally and in a fraternal sense – with your boys… You’re weak and you allow Becky to be raped. It unfolds right in your face. Your boy from home forces his penis in her mouth while your teammate continues to assault her from the rear. Your other teammate whips out his cell phone and starts recording the incident. Becky has become an inanimate object, she exists solely as a means of pleasuring the young men. No one give any thought to her feelings, her pain, her humiliation. Eventually, her crying becomes overbearing and y’all decide to cease. You throw her a towel, a rag and a hoodie. You and your homies retreat to the living area leaving her lying is a pool of sweat, tears and semen.
After a about 10 minutes, you ask her if she’s “alright.” Becky’s eyes are open, but she is unresponsive. It’s as if she comatose. She has just been subjected to a brutal felony gang rape. But in a haze of ego and displaced loyalty to your friends, you convince yourself somehow, someway that she wanted it. You have absolutely no idea how much trouble you are in. Back in the living area, your boy has already forwarded the video and pics to several other friends. Your dumb ass then shares it with other players on the team.
Becky is devastated. She is bleeding. All sorts of thoughts are running through her head. “Do I have a disease? Herpes? Aid? Am I pregnant?” Blaming herself, she wonders what she could have done differently. Yes, she wanted consensual sex with YOU. The key words here are “with YOU”. She didn’t want to be tossed around and shared by a group of strange men. Unbeknownst to you and your friends, Becky has just endured life altering physical and psychological trauma. Even though you don’t yet realize it, your athletic careers are already in jeopardy and your reputations will never recover.
Different versions of this episode are playing out on college campuses all across the country. Young Black college and professional athletes are literally “wildin’ out” on campuses and in hotels across the country. Of course, white athletes are wildin out too. But, I’m not concerned with Ben Rothlisberger, Christian Peter and other white athletes right now. Young fella, I am worried about you. With alarming frequency, the media provides us with detailed accounts such as the one above.
Even casual fans can recognize that Black college and professional athletes such as yourself are increasingly involved in “alleged” sexual assaults. When not substantiated, these allegations, nonetheless, linger. They permanently stain the reputation and decrease the earning potential of guys like you. You do not want to be forever linked to the words “sexual assault” and “RAPE.” If substantiated, athletes face immediate repercussions meted out by the criminal justice system and living their remaining years as a registered “sex offender.” Either way, the social and financial costs of sexual assaults are extremely high and should be avoided at all costs.
But how do you learn to deal with these situations? Who will demonstrate and model more appropriate ways to engage in sexual relationships with females, especially female “groupies”? I know you don’t really have a relationship with your father. Who can help save you from yourself?
My contention here is that your Ol’ Heads have to do a better job preparing you for the complex and often confusing social circumstances awaiting elite basketball and football players on college campuses. It ain’t enough to just deliver you to a Nike, under Arnour of Adidas school. Ol’ Heads have to do more. They are the ones in a position to make a difference. Ol’ Heads have earned your respect and that of young Black males. They are youth coaches, high school coaches, AAU coaches, mentors, teachers or any older gentleman that demonstrates a willingness to impart knowledge. Ol’ Heads know exactly how these scenarios can play out.
Young fella, if you truly don’t understand how you ended up arrested and charged with rape, your Ol’ Heads failed you.
I’m gonna always try my best to give it you raw and uncut. Young fella, I have to speak TRUTH. Take it however you want, but here it is.
Some things have been issues from the moment Black men set foot on Jamestown, Virginia in 1619. Since then, their place in the fledgling society has been an issue of vital concern to dominant white males. Very early on it was decided that Black males would be subjugated and relegated to far less than second class status. By 1640, at least one African had been declared a slave and formally ordered by the court “to serve his said master or his assigns for the time of his natural life here or elsewhere.” Your Ol’ Heads understand that Black male sexuality and the Black penis have been viewed as major threats to the established social order by successive generations of white Americans over the past 370 years. Your Ol’ heads know that Black male interactions with women, especially white women, throughout American history have been aggressively policed and excessively punished. Ol’ Heads tend to understand this instinctively even if they are not familiar with the ugly, horrific details of manner in which American society has interacted with Black male genitalia.
The problem, as I see it young fella, is that collegiate sports has become such an integral and important part of American culture that many Ol’ Heads think that these historically observable dynamics no longer apply to elite athletes such as yourself. And, to certain extent, they are not wrong. They are just shortsighted. As long as you are performing in sanctioned contests that generate approximately $900,000,000 annually for the NCAA, they will let a LOT of shit “slide.” Up to and including sexual assaults…
However, when you are no longer eligible to play or become ineffective at toting the rock or dunking a ball… When you can no longer contribute to victories and earn $$$$ for BIG state, the reality of America’s long standing fear of Black sexuality will rear its’ ugly head. You will quickly come to understand the extent to which America continues to be fearful of the Black penis.
Young fella… Let me give you a quick history lesson on this subject. They have always reserved the “legal” right to cut your dick off for that same shit y’all did to Becky. In 1769, Colonial Virginia established a law which “authorized the castration of any slave who attempted to have sex with a white woman,” but it had no similar provision when white men attempted or in fact ravished black women. Young fella… pay attention… In 1775, Colonial Georgia formally enacted the prohibition against teaching a slave to read or write. The penalty for violating this prohibition was set at fifteen pounds sterling. That fine was was 50% larger that that for willfully castrating a slave or cutting off a limb. That means the penalty for cutting off your balls was only half as much as the fine for teaching you to read. I know what you are thinking: “I would have escaped, I would have run off…” You had better make to freedom if you tried. In Colonial South Carolina, a third attempt at escaping to freedom warranted castration. This mysterious fascination with and simultaneous fear of Black penises was not limited to the South. In Colonial Pennsylvania, all Black males, free and enslaved, found guilty of attempts to rape a white woman were castrated. The macabre behavior continued, in extra-legal forms well after independence from England.
In his recent film, Quinten Tarantino captured the essence of the issue at hand when Django was hung naked upside down in a barn while he awaits castration. The white man longing to execute the job, Billy Crash, one of the overseers, delighted in the thought of cutting off Django balls. But, young fella, I don’t have to rely on cinematic fiction to illustrate how this is part of America’s DNA.
Throughout American history, when Black males were lynched the murderers would routinely cut off their penises. Sometimes, Black dicks were kept as souvenirs in pickle jars. In other instances, they were shoved into the mouths of the victim as he dangled from a tree. Eighty years ago, on October 26, 1934 Claude Neal was lynched in Marianna, Florida for having an affair with Ms. Cannidy, a young white neighbor.
A member of the lynch mob described the gruesome episode in great detail:
“After taking the nigger to the woods about four miles from Greenwood, they cut off his penis. He was made to eat it. Then they cut off his testicles and made him eat them and say he liked it. Then they sliced his sides and stomach with knives and every now and then somebody would cut off a finger or toe. Red hot irons were used on the nigger to burn him from top to bottom.” From time to time during the torture a rope would be tied around Neal’s neck and he was pulled up over a limb and held there until he almost choked to death when he would be let down and the torture begin all over again. After several hours of this unspeakable torture, “they decided just to kill him.”
The mob of angry whites tied Neal to a rope at the rear of an automobile and dragged over the highway to the Cannidy home. Somewhere between 3000 and 7000 fervent whites from eleven southern states were excitedly waiting his arrival. When Neal’s corpse arrived, it was immediately mutilated by the onlookers. It was then taken back to Marianna, where it was hung to a tree in the courthouse square. Young fella, pictures (see below) were taken of the mutilated body and hundreds of photographs were sold for fifty cents each. Neal’s fingers were sold as souvenirs.
Claude Neal, Marianna, Florida 1934
In some important ways, times have changed significantly. Think about it young fella. For the better part of four centuries, brutal lynchings and castrations accompanied even the slightest thought of engaging in sexual relations with white women. Yet, today young Black men are engaging in sexual relations with white women on college campuses in Florida, Texas, South Carolina, Kentucky, others states throughout the former Confederacy and all across the country. Even when white women cry “rape” the cases are frequently made to go away.
By now Young fella… I know your asking: How does this make sense? What is going on? What changed?
Incredibly, at this historical juncture, it is apparent that many white police and University officials place more value on the alleged Black perpetrator’s athletic services than they do on the “honor” of the putative white female victims. The investigative reports are there for all to see.
Most recently, mainstream media outlets like ESPN, the New York Times and the Washington Post reported that white males in positions of authority are hindering investigations of Black males suspected of sexually assaulting white women. University presidents, athletic directors and coaches are routinely siding with prominent young Black athletes and questioning the accounts of alleged victims.
Young fella, you wanna know what’s really going on?
In the immortal words of Raekwon, Inspectah Deck, Method Man and the rest of the legendary Wu-Tang Clan, “Cash Rules Everything Around Me” C.R.E.A.M./Get the money; dollar, dollar bill, y’all. The fear of Black male sexuality still exists, but it has been overridden by naked greed. Elite collegiate athletes generate huge sums of money for their respective institutions.
Young fella , as soon as you are no longer a substantial source of revenue, the fear will become readily apparent.
Your Ol’ Heads understand this innate fear. Unfortunately, truth be told, just like the white males cashing in at the colleges, a lot of Ol’ Heads have been blinded by greed. Hoping to cash in if you make it, many Ol’ Heads are not willing to impose behavioral expectations on guys like you. They are afraid of being cast out of your inner circle. They are worried that you will make it to the NFL or NBA and they won’t be around to share in your success and reap financial rewards.
In short, the game is fucked up!!
Fearful of losing access, Ol’ Heads fail to provide guidance for dealing with these situations. You have never been subjected to logical consequences for your negative behaviors. As a result, you have no idea how the larger society views these types of sexual escapades. Because you can ball, people have been letting you get away with all types of transgressions since you were 10 or 11 years old. Young fella you have been socialized to believe you are above the rest of society. You are part of a generation of gladiators incapable of consistently exhibiting socially appropriate behaviors in all settings.
Far too many of today’s Ol’ Heads view their role as making problems go away. In the past, Ol’ Heads prepared youngbucks to deal with a complicated, confusing and discriminatory society. These days, Ol’ Heads just say, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’ll fix it.”
That is extremely unfortunate. Your generation is paying a high price for this. More than anyone else, Ol’ Heads are in a position to spell out the truth. Ol’ Heads know their youngbucks. They know if y’all are capable of assaulting or raping women. They have spent countless hours in cars, gyms and classrooms with youngbucks. In many instances, they have diffused sensitive situations involving inappropriate behaviors with girls and young women. The responsibilities of Ol’ Heads are much deeper than the responsibility of college coaches, given the unique relationships and access that Ol’ Heads enjoy.
Ol’ Heads also understand the dynamics of race as they have historically applied to Black athletes. From 1905 through the early 1970’s, major NCAA college basketball and football programs fielded teams that were predominantly white. In the south, “Affirmative Action” was firmly entrenched in the recruitment process. Participation in major college athletics was exclusively (100%) the preserve of white males for these seven decades. Highly skilled and supremely gifted Black athletes were barred from participation and lesser white athletes were awarded scholarships.
After explicitly denying Black males an opportunity participate for seven decades, the pendulum has swung entirely in the other direction. One watching two top SEC teams on television today could easily envision the same game taking place between Grambling and Southern in the mid 1960’s. Outside an occasional center or quarterback, dominant college teams are predominantly African-American.
The money has really changed things young fella… The rise of the Black athlete and the accompanying exponential growth in revenues has led us a point where many white fans, boosters, coaches, administrators and even law enforcement officials value winning college athletic contests (and the generating millions of dollars) more than they fear Black penises.
But… youngfella… please… please… Don’t be fooled, it’s all about the money.
Let’s look at the investigation of a rape allegation against the reigning Heisman winner and quarterback of the national champion Florida State football team. This incident and the ensuing actions on the part of authority figures provides a clear picture of just how far the pendulum has swung.
On Jan. 10, 2013, a female student alleged that Jameis Winston has raped her about a month earlier and reported him to the Tallahassee police. According to a statement released by the university, senior athletic department officials met with Mr. Winston’s lawyer, Mr. Jansen, within days of his identification as a suspect and quickly concluded that “there were no grounds for further action.” The accuser’s former lawyer, Patricia A. Carroll, said the department did not contact her at the time to get her client’s side of the story.
What the fuck is up with that? Fifty years ago a mob would have tried to drag Winston out of his home and hang him up on a tree a few feet from the courthouse steps.
Young fella… If we remember what Wu-Tang tells us, that “cash rules everything around me” then things start to make sense. On the field, Winston is a dynamic force and a dominant leader. Florida State has yet to lose a football game in the in year and a half he has been the starting quarterback. Wins translate into dollars. County officials estimate that home games generate anywhere from $1.5 million to $10 million into the local economy, depending on the quality of the opponent. Last year Florida State reported a football profit of $20 million, which covered much of the expenses for other sports teams while also helping the athletic department contribute $2.6 million back to academic programming on top of athletic scholarships.
The New york Times has reported that the police investigator who handled the case, Scott Angulo, “has done private security work for the Seminole Boosters, a nonprofit organization, with nearly $150 million in assets, that is the primary financier of Florida State athletics, according to records and a lawyer for the boosters.”
As long as he has eligibility left, FSU and the authorities in Tallahassee will continue to let a LOT of shit slide. Winston as of October 14, 2014 is 19-0 as the starting QB. He also has a Heisman trophy and a National Championship in hand. You… young fella… you ain’t Jameis Winston.
Act like you got some sense!!