Read Online The Michael Eric Dyson Reader by Michael Eric Dyson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Eric Dyson
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responsibility, and we’ve got to accept it as part of our duties as public intellectuals. And such responsibility doesn’t stop at our national borders. I just got a letter from Japan, and some intellectuals want me to come there because they think I’m doing important cultural criticism. And I’ve just fielded an invitation from London to speak on religion, and from Italy to speak on politics, and from Cuba to talk about African American culture and politics.
In light of all of this, structural humility is surely in order. The best we can do is to represent the truth as honestly and clearly as we understand it, with all the skills at our disposal. Of course, nothing I’m saying means we can’t feel good about our achievements, or about the influence we might wield. From my perspective, if we truly believe that our vocations are manifestations of ultimate purpose, we’ll want to do our level best to stay at the top of our games as an acknowledgment of the gifts God has given us.
One last thing that ties in is how you’ll be able to do that. I can see very clearly your intellectual path. But how are you going to be able to keep your hand on the pulse of the street, because by necessity . . . it doesn’t have anything to do with your commitment . . . but, like you said, Japan, Italy, universities, busy . . . How do you maintain that connection? I know that’s vital to you.
It is vital. That’s one reason I still spend so much of my time on Sunday mornings preaching, and going into communities as a public intellectual and political activist.
You ever just go walk through the neighborhoods?
Lord yes. When I go to neighborhoods all over this country, I’m trying to find the barbecue shack. I’m trying to find where the Negroes hang out. I hang with the bloods. I want the local color, the local flavor, what Geertz calls local knowledge, because black folks are so diverse and profoundly complex, even if we have similarities that bind us together. Black folks fascinate me. I want to continue to learn about us: the different vernaculars we have in different regions; the different ideological and political subcultures we generate; the varied contexts that shape our cultural identities; the varied sexualities we express, especially beneath the radar of racial correctness or mainstream propriety; and the inflections of the black diaspora in our food, fashion, and faith. So, I’m constantly trying to learn more wherever I go. Of course, one of the critiques of intellectuals I often hear is that we’re out of touch with “the folk.” Well, when I preach, I’m reaching “the folk.” Those critics who say that intellectuals per se—not particular intellectuals, mind you, but intellectuals as a category—are out of touch, have often stereotyped “the folk.” Further, they feel free to speak for, and identify with, “the folk,” andthey feel free to attack intellectuals in the name of “the folk.” But I’ve often discovered that “the folk”—these very souls whom critics seek to protect through claims of our irrelevance—are hungry for intellectual engagement.
In the meantime, “the folk” are out-reading, out-thinking, and out-intellectualizing the very people who quite defensively and condescendingly argue in their name that they won’t get what we’re doing, won’t understand what we’re up to, or will be automatically suspicious of our aspirations. Now don’t get me wrong; there is more than enough warrant for the skepticism, perhaps even the cynicism, which some folk harbor toward intellectuals who’ve earned the titles Irrelevant, Pedantic, Didactic, or Condescending. On the other hand, when intellectuals prove that they’re serious about helping people think deeply and clearly about the problems they confront, their advice, insight, and analysis is more than welcomed by “the folk.” I think we have to stop essentializing the folk, as if it’s some mythic community. Well, I’m
In light of all of this, structural humility is surely in order. The best we can do is to represent the truth as honestly and clearly as we understand it, with all the skills at our disposal. Of course, nothing I’m saying means we can’t feel good about our achievements, or about the influence we might wield. From my perspective, if we truly believe that our vocations are manifestations of ultimate purpose, we’ll want to do our level best to stay at the top of our games as an acknowledgment of the gifts God has given us.
One last thing that ties in is how you’ll be able to do that. I can see very clearly your intellectual path. But how are you going to be able to keep your hand on the pulse of the street, because by necessity . . . it doesn’t have anything to do with your commitment . . . but, like you said, Japan, Italy, universities, busy . . . How do you maintain that connection? I know that’s vital to you.
It is vital. That’s one reason I still spend so much of my time on Sunday mornings preaching, and going into communities as a public intellectual and political activist.
You ever just go walk through the neighborhoods?
Lord yes. When I go to neighborhoods all over this country, I’m trying to find the barbecue shack. I’m trying to find where the Negroes hang out. I hang with the bloods. I want the local color, the local flavor, what Geertz calls local knowledge, because black folks are so diverse and profoundly complex, even if we have similarities that bind us together. Black folks fascinate me. I want to continue to learn about us: the different vernaculars we have in different regions; the different ideological and political subcultures we generate; the varied contexts that shape our cultural identities; the varied sexualities we express, especially beneath the radar of racial correctness or mainstream propriety; and the inflections of the black diaspora in our food, fashion, and faith. So, I’m constantly trying to learn more wherever I go. Of course, one of the critiques of intellectuals I often hear is that we’re out of touch with “the folk.” Well, when I preach, I’m reaching “the folk.” Those critics who say that intellectuals per se—not particular intellectuals, mind you, but intellectuals as a category—are out of touch, have often stereotyped “the folk.” Further, they feel free to speak for, and identify with, “the folk,” andthey feel free to attack intellectuals in the name of “the folk.” But I’ve often discovered that “the folk”—these very souls whom critics seek to protect through claims of our irrelevance—are hungry for intellectual engagement.
In the meantime, “the folk” are out-reading, out-thinking, and out-intellectualizing the very people who quite defensively and condescendingly argue in their name that they won’t get what we’re doing, won’t understand what we’re up to, or will be automatically suspicious of our aspirations. Now don’t get me wrong; there is more than enough warrant for the skepticism, perhaps even the cynicism, which some folk harbor toward intellectuals who’ve earned the titles Irrelevant, Pedantic, Didactic, or Condescending. On the other hand, when intellectuals prove that they’re serious about helping people think deeply and clearly about the problems they confront, their advice, insight, and analysis is more than welcomed by “the folk.” I think we have to stop essentializing the folk, as if it’s some mythic community. Well, I’m
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