New Jack America

Originally Published February 10, 2009.

Am I my brother’s keeper?

Nino Brown, New Jack City

“Don’t be mad y’all ain’t in style no more.” That statement, and others similar to it, are part of the standard infantryman’s gear when he or she is conscripted into their respective color army, which is compulsory. The battle has raged for over four centuries; so long, in fact, that it has transitioned from combat to a matter of tradition. The ways in which war is waged vary; some approach it aggressively; others take a more humorous tack, playing the dozens in whatever environment they feel comfortable in. In the right company, particularly with regard to matters of racial desirability, it’s not uncommon to hear something along the lines of “Y’all ain’t been in style since 1991,” peppered into the conversation. Still, this humor is shaded with one side’s version of truth and it is an issue that can quickly escalate from jokes to contentious debate.

Color is a polarizing topic in Black America, and while many a dissertation-length tome has been written on the complexities and nuances of racial identity on the grounds of skin tone, I find it more helpful to point out, however broadly, a reality whose components can be teased out and debated, but not ignored. Really, it’s very simple. There are two sides: Dark and Light. While each side falls under the umbrella of Black America, both leagues have very particular complexions—pun both intended and not—and ways of doing things. The standards and ideals are, at best, confusing to the other side and, at worst, are loathsome. Both are governed by their perspectives, stereotypical and otherwise. Their goal is even simpler than their division: To reign supreme and represent the race, especially to “people who don’t know us like that.” Obviously, the closing of ranks is not so severe that associations, social and otherwise, are not made, but these associations do not supersede, by and large, the feelings of mutual contempt and mistrust. On one side, the resentment stems has its roots in antebellum authority; slave owner perspectives tempered with Black nuance. On the other, resentment for society’s favored sons and daughters and a suspicion of those who are too close to white for comfort. Humorously and otherwise, both attack each other with the same cudgel: You are not the right kind of Black.

It has been a little over three months since a certain junior senator from the state of Illinois had the audacity to make history. Many have opined on what this means for race relations in America—and by “race relations” we mean to ask how the white majority will regard other people of color as we move into the future. Some have wondered what it will mean for the color war described above. The latter question I find to be more compelling and, in search of an answer, decided to consult a classic 90s crime drama: New Jack City.

The other day I had occasion to see New Jack City again and was struck by how acutely the color conversation, the battle for Black played out, particularly for the film’s male characters. The film’s poster fires the first shot. Dark and sinister, drug kingpin Nino Brown (portrayed by Wesley Snipes) looms in the darkness. Below him are the three detectives—one white, the other two light-skinned Blacks—determined to bring him down. Snipes’ dress—black cap turned backward, black sunglasses and black leather jacket, casually holding a pistol in one hand, while a burning cigarette rests in the other—is a nightmare personified: Black radicalism with crack rocks and a bankroll. As the movie rolled, so too did the messages. For the light-skinned characters in the film, both perspectives are satisfied. They are the hero and moral compass; the crusading and avenging police officers played by Mario Van Peebles and Ice-T will stop at nothing to rescue the (Black) community from Nino Brown’s clutches.

Yet, there is another side to the coin. They’re also portrayed as weak, untrustworthy, and incompetent in some regard, simultaneously fulfilling a stereotype that many dark-skinned Blacks hold for light-skinned Blacks while also making Brown all the more compelling. One can’t help but be taken in by Brown’s aura (among people who discuss these things, Snipes’ performance is single-handedly credited for bringing Dark-skinned males back into prominence). Charismatic and driven, he is an individual who willed his ambitions into existence. While having some of the qualities a young Black man could point to as admirable, he is also the ruthless overlord of a criminal enterprise. He is a villain and pays the villain’s price for helping to destroy the (Black) community. In New Jack City and elsewhere, the message is simple. Dark versus Light. Light versus Dark. In this long-standing war, can anyone or anything bring the peace?

In all the post-election fervor, one might think that the former junior senator changes the above reality; that he single-handedly sent the relevance of New Jack City to the archives, never to be heard from again. Not so because A: He’s not Snipes-skinned and B: His pathos is made of different stuff. The new CINC complicates the Black America’s deeply entrenched attachment to color because his identity is not ensnared by it. He simply does not follow the caste rules. Where the historical color caste was created by white men procreating with African women, the former senator is the progeny of a white woman and a Kenyan man and that fact is significant. He had an upbringing that gives him an international appeal. He is a man apart; what a friend of mine called the Great Mirror: Able to reflect back whatever an individual needs to see. Rather than transcend race, one would argue that he reinterprets it from the outside. Does this somehow make him not Black? No; it means his approach to Black defies the standard.

So what does this mean for Nino and them? If anything, the former senator causes New Jack City to be more relevant. Why? Because most in Black America recognized that he was in their world but not of it. For one side, he had the look and pedigree that many had grown to despise and a personal history that was foreign. On the other, he had the look and the pedigree, but not the personal history that would have given a degree of comfort. He simply could not be trusted by anyone. But that initial skepticism thawed—with an immeasurable amount of help from wife—as the man began to show himself and Black America came to embrace him—and his history—as one of its own. And it is in that embrace that the centuries-long pitting against stands in its most stark relief. New Jack City’s age does show, but the ugliness of its color undertones shines.

Whether or not the former junior senator will be his brother’s keeper is less relevant than the following question: Who does Black America consider its brothers? A Columbia-grad-turned-head-of state didn’t make New Jack City old; he merely turned the film’s central question around on his would-be inquisitors. What Black America does with the question of color, with its deeply-rooted allegiances in this moment is critical. This election can be used to dismantle the caste question and embrace the racial identity nuances that will define the future or it can continue upon a familiar and divisive path, and hope that the President-elect will be forced into choosing a side. Should Black America choose the latter, it will be sorely disappointed. He may look like he is on a side, but he is not. He won’t choose because he doesn’t have to; for the reasons listed above, he can opt out. People like him are the future; he is a New Jack, a redefinition of Black identity and it is Black America’s responsibility to get where he is, not the other way around. The task is not easy; the history is complicated and painful, but the work must be done.

Will Black America be Obama’s keeper? That will greatly depend on how Black America perceives him. In the difficult days ahead, we will know by the terms by which we criticize or invalidate him. In a job that requires a degree of Nino Brown, if the disappointment and hard feelings are color-coded, we will know.