Black folk from the street hustler to intellectuals from the Talented Tenth have talked about reparations for slavery. People have fought for reparations ever since slavery ended. However, one of the few successful reparation movements came from the Japanese internment giving $20,000 per surviver after World War II.
Black people have never received reparations. So, as a consummate idealistic, intellectual hustler, I decided to take my reparations into my hands.
Hence, the advent of the Black Man's Discount. I vetted the idea with some friends of mine back in the day. Each laughed initially and thought only my crazy ass would be willing to try it out. At the time when not estranged from my father, I passed the idea by him to see what his reaction would be. He did not provide much, but he laughed. I gathered by making it funny I might be successful. I also did not expect to receive it. It was fundamentally a lofty idea wrapped in charm and poetic license on a well worn idea.
With the confidence of my friends and family, I set out on an adventure. I started during a trip on a popular airline to a conference. Comforted by my department paying for my flight to the conference, I approached the ticket attendant smiling and conversed in idle chatter about the most recent football game and entertainment gossip. In my mind's eyes, I began to consider what first class might be like as a frequent member of coach.
To be safe, I thought that I be best off trying this with someone of the same ilk. Bra' Man there was quite friendly and laughed graciously at my jokes as we bantered back and forth. As the conversation led to the series of questions pre-dating the terror attacks of September 11th, I said unapologetically and with the most courageous tone of voice that I could muster, "Can a brother get the Black Man's Discount?"
Like a mindful sage, Bra' Man sorted through the various thoughts that popped in his mind. He smiled, looked at me with that familiar brother to brother acknowledgment, and hit the magical keys without missing a beat. He said, as he had probably had a thousand times before, "Yes, we have space for you in first class."
Let it be said that the flight was not full at all. So, no one was put out for this friendly accommodation. For a first effort, it was a joyous success.
Being a quasi-scientist, I wanted to test this little theory out. While at the conference, I stopped by the grocery store and invoked the Black Man's Discount. Surprisingly, the Sister at the cash register gave me the candy bar and three drinks for free.
Although the two experiences left me feeling elated, I did not dare try again soon for fear of throwing off the celestial Chi' in the world. But, time could not pass as I was all too eager to try it out again.
When I returned from the conference, I had been worried the whole flight back that I was not certain I had money in the bank to pay for the four days of parking. Actually very nervous, I drove up to the parking attendant. A gentle middle-aged Mexican American sat resolute in his air conditioned palace. I smiled, asked about his day, and secretly strategized about what to say next. Without a thought, but delivered with all confidence, I asked, "Do you think I could get the Black Man's Discount?" Then, I handed him the twenty-five dollars I found in my book sitting at the bottom of my car floor.
Slightly distracted, he held up the bitterly old twenty dollar bill in his hand, viewed both sides to check for authenticity, and handed it back to me. Unremarkably, he said, "It's your lucky day!"
The zeros on the screen outside the kiosk flashed a bright red and the bar rose up into the air. The Mexican gentleman said goodbye as I drove on.
With this kind of success, you might think that I'd slow it down. I did, but not because of success. Rather, utter failure with others made it seem unreasonable. It did not phase me because I found with enough diligence and perserverence that sooner or later with Black, White, Latino, Asian or otherwise the Black Man's Discount paid out.
I'd immediately shared my fortune with my friends and family who were shocked that I experienced so much success. So, I began advising my first client. A young, somewhat naiive White woman, fellow student in a program two floors down.
My friend was not so naiive as distrustful, maybe indignant after learning I had such a favorable experience. So, I advised her of my technique, circumstance by which it might be more successful, and gave her a pep talk to build her confidence.
After about a week she and I crossed paths again. After a slightly awkward exchange, I asked her if she tried our little experiment. She frowned and tore into a story about being summarily called a racist for invoking the White Woman's Discount.
Who said reparations was for everyone.
Years have past since invoking the discount. Periodically to restore my faith in the American dream, I inquire about the discount with moderate success.
My advice to you. Try it out with familiar people. Do not abuse the privilege, because it is a privilege to be respected and not confused with an unjust cause. If you are White, expect that you will experience some inherit limitations. In the end, this little experiment can really turn into an adventure in social justice.
