“People say I changed
And I tell them that I’m glad, cause I don’t wanna stay the same
Cause I used to be poor, I used to be unconfident
I used to hate these haters, now it’s just the opposite
Not only have I changed, I’m becoming something better
And revenge is for the weak, so I have settled my vendettas”
-Childish Gambino
I recently finished reading “A Hope in the Unseen,” by Ron Suskind and was left feeling quite a mix of thoughts and emotions. The book tells the story of an inner city Black youth, Cedric Jennings, who against all odds rises to attend an Ivy League university. The story of this young man’s success touched me on an intellectual and personal level. Looking back to the plethora of emotions that I felt while reading the book there were two main issues that were interwoven in this story and that constantly stood out to me. The first was what I like to call “ghetto voyeurism” and the second was the underlying theme of community that helped and followed Cedric on his path to success.
Most non-fiction pieces on the lives of inner city people of color tend to draw similar feelings from their readers. They evoke a sense of empathy and hope that pushes us to connect with the subject. “A Hope in the Unseen” follows this trend and gets the reader deeply invested in Cedric Jennings’s trials and tribulations. The absent, imprisoned father, the hard-working but financially unstable mother, the violence surrounding his neighborhood, and the lackluster high school that Cedric attends are all part of the stereotypical narrative attributed to urban life. The book in many ways feeds the reader’s imagination regarding these stereotypes and promotes notions aligned to the “culture of poverty” argument first articulated by the US government’s Moynihan Report.
While I wholeheartedly agree that this inspirational story is one worth bringing to light, I worry that if it is not framed properly then the reader might misinterpret parts of urban life. From reading the book it would seem that the only positive part of Cedric’s life outside of his and his mother’s work ethic is the church (albeit in a limited sense given the corruption the writer occasionally mentions like the preacher driving a Rolls Royce). Because of the perspectives evident in the book, I see its existence as both a gift and a curse. The narrative shows us what we already know about poor urban life but refuses to acknowledge it our day-to-day lives. It is much easier to ignore poverty as a problem when we don’t have to see or read about it. This book brings the cotidian life of inner-city poor people to light in ways that aim to inspire hope even in the darkest situations.
In the book’s Afterword and Author’s Note the writer attempts to describe his relationship with Cedric and their professional agreement leading to the publication of his story. He establishes his work ethic in journalistic integrity and objectivity. Suskind offers that he spent between 3-4 years following Cedric and writing his story. When I read this I was taken aback by the fact that this journalist had simply watched Cedric’s life develop as a bystander. It seems almost morally reprehensible that the writer, having just won a Pulitzer prize for his articles on Cedric, would stand by and simply watch as this young man and his mother were going through eviction proceedings. Maybe I have a poor understanding of objectivity in journalism but I personally would throw it out the window for my conscious’s sake. Following his declaration of journalistic professionalism the author then attempts to grapple with America’s elephant in the room: race. He tries to dismantle any challenges to his racial voyeurism by offering that after writing the newspaper articles and book he was contacted by various professionals and journalists who assumed he was Black or asked about his race because he had done such a good job “capturing the Black experience.” While I applaud this writer’s attempt at addressing the issue, his anecdotes are akin to those made by Whites who say “I can say the n-word because I have a ton of black friends” or “I can say the n-word because I grew up saying it and my friends don’t get offended.” Nice try Suskind…
An obvious but overlooked facet of Cedric’s success was the informal and formal community that contributed to his achievements. As a teacher I have consistently argued that the key to education lies in embracing its reform as a community and societal investment/effort. While Suskind does a phenomenal job at exposing the vast number of structural and social hurdles that Cedric faced, he frequently underplays the value of the community that nurtured him. Cedric himself appears to have portrayed much of his journey as an isolated David and Goliath story. Even in the end, most of his success is attributed to Cedric’s herculean effort and his mother’s tremendous sacrifice. While I don’t want to underplay the importance of these, I feel like the story was in some ways crafted to fit the Anglo/Protestant idea of grabbing one’s bootstraps and pulling oneself up. Portraying Cedric’s accomplishments as self-created makes for a more compelling story but obscures the community inherent in any individuals, especially those from the inner city’s, success.
In reality, Cedric’s achievements were very much tied to the larger formal and informal community he was part of. The church that he and his mother attended was a place where many of his efforts and triumphs were nurtured and celebrated. At school, Cedric had two teachers who stood by him for years and constantly pushed him academically, spiritually, and socially. There was the technology teacher who allowed Cedric extra time on the computer to work ahead and the science teacher who would quote scripture and try to constantly motivate him. Even in the school where he was treated as an outsider, Cedric had a handful of friends who supported his success and even checked him when he tried being a “bad boy.” Outside of D.C., Cedric benefited from his wealthy, Massachusetts benefactor throughout his time in college. At Brown, Cedric struggled greatly his first year but found professors and writing advisers who tried to support him.
I point all these things out because the book motivated me to think back on my own academic journey and consider how I’ve gotten to where I am. The day I graduated from Brown my mom boldly stood up at the dinner table and exclaimed that she and I made it alone. While I don’t think that she meant her comment in an arrogant way, her excitement clearly had gotten the best of her. My success would have been impossible without Mrs. Earle risking her job to sneak me in her class. When we couldn’t afford after-school care, our family friend Cristy always took care of me and fed me without ever charging us. I would have known little about survival and manhood without the crazy hard-ass Scoutmaster who treated me like his surrogate son. I would have never won a cross country or track race without the coach who would drive me home when I didn’t have a ride and offered to buy me running shoes when my mom couldn’t afford a pair. At Brown, I was pushed by many of my professors, in particular my professors of color, to be the best student I could be and to be a symbol for what students of color were capable of doing. My success is entirely due to the community that helped nurture and inspire me. It is for this reason that I am so deeply invested in education and social revolution. Once we realize that we owe it to ourselves to view education as a community endeavor, then we can truly have an impact on the world.
All in all I want to say that I truly enjoyed reading “A Hope in the Unseen.” I shed tears at various parts of the story and have even convinced my mom to give it a read. I appreciate Mr. Suskind’s work and hope for the day that there are many more Cedrics and Jonathons in the world. Until then we must wait for the “community” to wake up from its idle state…