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It’s been hard for me to listen to the lunatics who justify the way Adrian Peterson disciplines his children. It’s a point of contention that has always troubled me. Spanking children is so engrained within the fabric of black culture that to do otherwise is considered evidence of bad parenting.
The late
Bernie Mac joked about beating children to the white meat. Most people in those rooms have stories about
running from a switch, having to get their own switch, hiding from a switch or
being beat so hard that it took time to recover.
The truth is
most of that is abuse. As painful as it
may be to admit that, what’s behind how black people feel about corporal
punishment?
The Bible encourages it
The Bible is
used to promote corporal punishment. My
friend Eric Michael Dyson, professor at George Washington University,
challenged the literalist interpretation of the Bible in his New York Times
op-ed Punishment or Child Abuse?
“Like many
biblical literalists, lots of black believers are fond of quoting Scriptures to
justify corporal punishment, particularly the verse in Proverbs 13:24 that
says, ‘He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is careful to
discipline him’,” Dyson writes. “But in Hebrew, the word translated as “rod” is
the same word used in Psalms 23:4, “thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”
The shepherd’s rod was used to guide the sheep, not to beat them.”
The reading of
the Bible from its historical/cultural context, while taking into account the
nuances of Hebrew versus other translations, makes it clear that the Bible isn’t
justifying corporal punishment of children. Beyond the uncovering of the
meaning of the text, one must ponder the ethics of corporal punishment.
This is the
point where the WWJD movement becomes a vital instrument. Can you image Jesus spanking a child, and if
so, what would be the context behind him doing so?
It’s a part of black culture
Fifteen years
ago, in a column written in the Durham Herald-Sun, I argued that corporal
punishment replicates the punishment of slavery. Michael Eric Dyson offered the same during a
recent interview on MSNBC.
“Black people
were beat and hit in slavery,” Dyson said. “Some slave parents, especially
women, had to beat their kids in front of the slave master to prove that they
could go along with the slave master’s intention and keep them from being
rebellious spirits. …As a result of that, we began to absorb that practice,
collectively speaking, and we’ve reproduced it.”
Embedded in
black parenting is the notion of protecting children, especially boys, from the
dangers of society. Beatings are used to
teach boundaries. Boys are reared within
a culture of fear, which is, according to Dyson, the reproduction of the
pathology of slavery.
I endured it, and I turned out okay
Personal
testimony is used to validate the practice.
Education and other measures of success are used to justify the benefits
of corporal punishment. There’s a
significant problem with the argument. The mental health conditions of those offering
the testimony suggest a different conclusion.
Is there a
correlation between the excessive use of corporal punishment and cases of
domestic violence? How about substance
abuse and the massive dysfunction that plagues relationships among black
people? As much as we want to suggest
that we turned out alright, the truth is we, black people, are more damaged
than we are willing to admit.
I use the
pronoun we to claim my own journey to counter a myriad of mental health related
issues. That’s not to suggest it’s all a
consequence of corporal punishment, but is stated to accept not being alright
after enduring my share of walks to pick out my own switch.
That’s how white people think
This is the
part that is most difficult to address.
We carry loads of disdain related to the things lost due to
integration. As much as we celebrate the
vast improvements following the Civil Rights movement, there is the suggestion
that we lost more than we gained.
A big part of
that regards the culture of the community.
It is true that many of us born in the 60’s and 70’s were nurtured by a
large village. We were loved and spanked
by community grandparents, aunts and uncles who were granted permission by our
parents to whip that ass. We take pride in being loved by our village
families.
Yes, we take
great pride in being loved like that.
Those spankings reflect a culture of care. It’s like that eagle that stirs the next –
big mama has an eye on the babies. This
is what it meant to be black before we became rooted into the culture of white
privilege. We lost something meaningful when the objective was in replicating
the life and ways of white people.
It’s part of
the nostalgia of black life before the suburbs and integrated schools. It’s what makes us different. Spankings are something we share, and it’s
hard to let it go.
Black life in the context of postmodern
inclusion
All of this
suggests a need for a new model related to parenting. It requires critical engagement with the
Biblical text, deeper reflection involving the pathology of slave culture
within our contemporary context, an evaluation of the mental health conditions
of black people, and ways to embrace memories that create space for the release
of all the pain.
There’s hard
work to be done.
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