A parents unfortunate connection to a playwright’s gripping work about racism.
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Mr. Gregory Walker, whose art and culture nonprofit organization The Brothers’ Network is credited as the Associate Producer on the critically acclaimed show, “Hands Up,” inquired of me after I viewed the production as to which of the six testaments I found the most appealing.
The cast of Hands Up. Photo Credit: C. Norris – ©2015
If you’ve seen the production, which is showing from June 10th – 28th at the Caplan Studio Theatre (211 S. Broad St, 16th floor) in Center City Philadelphia, you know just how hard of a question that is to answer.
Each testament of racism, injustice and police misconduct performed by the black men that comprise the cast of “Hand Ups,” were as raw as the wooden floor upon which they stood, sat, rapped and spewed spoken word for an hour and a half.
I struggled for a moment to answer the question because I really enjoyed “Walking Next to Michael Brown” performed by the high-energy EZ Hernandez.
Mr. EZ Hernandez, a recent graduate of UArts. Photo Credit: C. Norris – ©2015
I also really liked “How I Feel” performed by Mr. Lee Edward Colston II, a student at the Juilliard School. Mr. Colston’s testament was full of emotion, and he requested the audience keep their hands up throughout the duration of his performance, a purposeful effort to make them uncomfortable.
I soon decided I couldn’t answer the question as it was posed. Instead, I choose to remark about which testament I most connected with, and that award, if you will, was bestowed up “Abortion,” which was performed by Mr. Aaron Bell, who was born in Baltimore, Maryland.
Mr. Bell, in his testament, gave life to an emotion and thought that many Black fathers grapple with but rarely verbalize: whether or not to bring a son into a world that presumes him guilty from birth.
In Mr. Bell’s case, the self-reflection went askew when he thought the best prevention would be if he, too, weren’t a part of the world, thus he strapped on a bomb and gave license for the audience to finish the scene with their imagination.
Mr. Bell wasn’t the first artist I’ve seen in Philadelphia use the arts to speak to this experience.
In 2012, after the death of Mr. Trayvon Martin, Mr. Gregory Corbin performed a poem entitled “Skittles ‘R Not Guns” and asked the question: “Wouldn’t you be afraid to birth the hunted?”
Mr. Arthur L. Griffin, Jr., who pondered during the first ultrasound of his unborn son whether or not he was doing the right thing by bringing a black boy into a world where people who look like him have to routinely remind police officers of their humanity, would answer yes to Mr. Corbin’s rhetorical inquiry.
Mr. Griffin, my business associate, is the reason I connected so intimately with Mr. Bell’s testament. Mr. Griffin’s son was born three years ago on Father’s Day, and before his namesake had celebrated his third birthday, he already could say these three words: Cops hate me.
Was the media to blame for the kid’s remarks? It would, indeed, be much easier to assign them blame, but Mr. Griffin accepted responsibility for the feelings of his son, as he, consciously or subconsciously, promoted that sentiment, or at the very least, gave off that type of energy.
“I grew up not trusting the police. I was raised to avoid cops like they were drugs or gangs. I’ve only seen my dad get along with one cop… All cops were bad expect one,” said Mr. Griffin, who, in attempt to break the cycle of fear and mistrust, took his young son to meet two local officers who patrol nearby. “I didn’t want me getting pulled over to be his first interaction with police,” he added.
If you’re a black man, getting pulled over or being stopped-and-frisked can be a fearful and unforgettable experience, even if no brutality is involved, because, as several of the cast members of “Hands Up” mentioned, it can be humiliating and dehumanizing.
Mr. Gregory Walker leads a panel discussion with the cast of “Hands Up.” Photo Credit: C. Norris – ©2015
Mr. Colston, the founding teacher of The Philadelphia Theatre Arts Institute, said he was stopped once by a police officer who didn’t believe he was a student a the Juilliard School.
Mr. Brandon Pierce, who’s performance was entitled “Superiority Fantasy,” talked about being pulled over because his car, an early 2000 Dodge Neon, matched the description of a car that was just stolen.
Mr. Pierce said cops wouldn’t believe he was an actor, until another officer, acting on his plea, went one block up the street to see a billboard that was advertising his one man show.
These are the types of experiences Mr. Griffin fears.
“There’s no class on how to deal with racism and police misconduct,” he said, informing me that some days he hates himself for bringing a son into this world, and then there are other days where he sees his offspring as hope.
Mr. Arthur L. Griffin, Jr. and his son, who was born three years ago on Father’s Day. Photo Credit: Griffin family.
But regardless of the emotional roller-coaster that Mr. Griffin is currently strapped into, he admits that he received the best Father’s Day three ago in the form of his son and that nothing – no Father’s Day gift – would ever top that.
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