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[This article was first published on Politichicks website June 29th 2016]
The Cleveland Cavaliers have just won the NBA Finals over the Golden State Warriors in a close Game 7 that was one of the highest-rated sports telecasts in NBA history. Since the finals began a couple of weeks ago, ESPN began its 30 for 30 five-part docu-series on O.J. Simpson called O.J.: Made in America. It is only fitting that the series would air during the NBA Finals because the media circus surrounding the Trial of O. J. Simpson began on June 17, 1994. During Game 5 of the Finals, NBC decided to show the infamous car chase in a split screen while the game was still in play, much to my confusion. I didn’t know much about O. J. at the time. I knew he was a great football player, and the only time I noticed hearing his name was when a young rookie running back might resemble Simpson in some way or when a player was reaching some record he held at that time. So, imagine me watching this white Bronco on the other side of the TV screen and wondering why this is so important that it couldn’t wait to be reported on the nightly news after the game? Little did I know that this slow and annoying car chase would be the smoldering catalyst for how I view the world today. This article is not meant to rehash the details of the case that have been scrutinized a million times before; this is just how the turn of events during this time influenced me, even though I didn’t realize it at the time.
The case of People of the State of California v. Orenthal James Simpson wasn't must-see TV for me as a 15-year-old, but the case would come up from time to time among my classmates. Especially when I was with my parents, the case would come up in conversations while the trial was ongoing. My knowledge of the case was fairly basic, considering that the information I was receiving came from hearsay and watching the nightly news' daily trial recap. As the trial progressed and I learned more about the case, I became increasingly confused. I was confused because when I would hear various theories about what was happening in the case and the media coverage of it all, one thing stood out: regardless of how they felt about the information about the trial, at the end of the day, almost everyone around me wanted Simpson to be acquitted. This was the first time I noticed for myself that people were willing to forsake logic over race. Back then, I didn't articulate it like that. At that time, I was saying it seemed like Black people wanted O.J. to be acquitted simply because he was Black! That's where the confusion came from for me because I was just looking at the information about the case, and I was at least skeptical, leaning toward thinking he was guilty. But even the people who were skeptical, like I was, wouldn't think he was guilty. And if they thought he would be found guilty, it was because of "the man," not because they were convinced of the facts of the case. All of this being said, back in the mid-’90s, the O. J. Simpson trial was not a priority that consumed my 15-year-old mind to the point of getting into arguments over it because I didn’t agree with the majority of Black people in America at that time. The ESPN docu-series as well as the FX mini-series The People v. O. J. Simpson reminded me of events that I’ve long forgotten, but one thing I have not forgotten was the day the verdict was announced.
October 3, 1995, was like any other day that morning. I didn’t watch the news talking about the upcoming verdict later that day, but once I got to school, I found out real quick. The school decided that they would air the verdict in our classrooms when it started since every classroom had a TV. It was convenient to stop class to witness what we thought could be a historic moment. Personally, I felt the same way when I watched the NBA Finals, wondering why we can't find out when we get home after school. But looking back at what happened after the reading of the verdict, that may have been problematic. So here I am, sitting in the classroom watching this like any other news broadcast. The words "Not Guilty" were spoken, and an eruption of cheers throughout the entire school was like watching those Cleveland Cavaliers fans at the end of this year's Finals! This spontaneous celebration was a shock to me. I should state that my school was 95% Black, and most of the teachers and staff were White. I saw the full spectrum of emotions at the same time. On one side, I saw joyous Black students and the few Black administrators. On the other side, I saw the White teachers openly upset, and some literally crying about what had just happened. Soon after the news got around town, our intercom system was buzzing nonstop with parents and/or anyone with permission coming to school and getting their children early, I guess to celebrate the verdict. I was still confused about why this was such a big deal. At the same time, I saw this as an opportunity to go home early and tried to get someone to check me out of school, but to no avail. With half the students gone in an hour and teachers either happy or sad, along with the impromptu parade of cars driving by the school blasting loud music, screaming, and honking horns, the school day essentially ended when the verdict was read. The days after the verdict, I summed up the conversations in the media and among people as "black people glad, white people sad." But the events that transpired left a lingering effect in the back of my mind where I was disappointed to see black people celebrate someone because he or she is black, regardless of whether they are at fault. That thought grew little by little beneath the surface until it surfaced during the 2008 presidential election.
The seed of thought planted back in 1995 continued to grow as the years passed. I saw aspects of Black culture defended at all costs, regardless of whether they were detrimental to our own race. Aspects such as the glorification of vulgarity and violence in hip-hop music and acts of violence going unreported in Black communities, whether out of fear of being a "snitch" or some sense of solidarity. Meanwhile, these Black "leaders" pointed the blame at everyone else to explain why things were the way they were in the Black community, essentially making it seem like Black people were like babies with no self-control and needed a pacifier in the form of more taxpayer-funded programs and policies like affirmative action to calm us down. At this time, I wasn't outwardly expressing my reservations because I was actually partaking in some of these activities, specifically listening to the music. I was in the marching band for most of my school years, and I enjoy music in general. So, my listening to hip-hop music consisted of appreciating the beats. That being said, the hypocrisy of defending this type of music was not lost on me. To this day, I constantly come across a song I listened to back then and hear things that I just now understand what they were talking about and normally become appalled by them. More years passed, and more illogical events occurred, but what I saw happen in 2006 to the Duke lacrosse team was the last straw. Seeing Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, and other black "leaders" come to North Carolina and destroy the lives of those lacrosse players based on evidence that was, at best, questionable lit that fuse back from 1995. After that ordeal, I didn't want to have anything to do with Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, or anyone else associated with that sham of a campaign. This was all fresh in my mind when 2008 arrived.
The process of transforming from an apathetic, universalist, zombie-like Democratic voter to an engaged Christian conservative occurred when I finally realized what it truly meant to be a Christian in late 2007. As 2008 drew near, I desired to make an informed decision about my vote. However, I lacked knowledge about the candidates, the principles of the parties, and even the meanings of the terms "liberal" and "conservative." Therefore, I started with a clean slate and began listening to a wide range of perspectives, from Air America to Fox News. Over the course of several months, I noticed that the issue of murdering children in the womb, also known as abortion, was becoming increasingly important to me. I came to the realization that all the other issues debated day after day held no significance if a person could not survive beyond the womb. Illegal immigration and taxes were the other issues that were becoming key as well, and now that I have these three to use as a barometer to vet these candidates, there was one more question I wanted answered: Who was associated with Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, and the others who claim to be leaders of the Black community? A little-known Senator named Barack Obama was getting some media attention around the time I realized I would vote Republican for the first time. The rise in Obama's popularity didn't impress me at all because I didn't agree with his views for America, such as wealth redistribution or his appalling record on abortion, even in cases where the baby is born alive. The constant drumbeat from the black community to support Obama was the same old rhetoric as always: vote for Obama simply because he's black. On the night of November 4, 2008, I was in a hotel room watching the election results, and when the announcement came that Barack Obama would be the next president of the United States, while I saw the celebration going on, I felt the same as I did on October 3, 1995, wondering what was so great about this victory other than the color of his skin.
