This essay appeared as a special to the young voices section of : http://preach2me.com/

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Luv And A Hug: A Practical Guide To Youth Development By Edward M. Garnes Jr.

My dear homie Sugar Johnson has a line in a poem that sums up the great generational divide crippling the black community: “Summers at Aunt Kiki’s were when we knew ourselves the best.” In his nostalgic shout out to easy living back in the day, Johnson reminds us that somehow we have turned our backs on the values that anchored black folk’s communal inclinations.

Young people don’t raise themselves. A point sorely lost with many elders insistent on generational blaming, and casting insults at the hip-hop generation from the sidelines, instead of taking ownership of their failures. Criticism absent an action plan makes for empty speeches, redundant press conferences, and misdirected marches portraying young folks as the new Negro problem. If anything, the hip-hop generation is the mirror reflecting the neglect, pain, and shortcomings of the generation before it. But the solution is simple. There is nothing like luv and a hug.

Case in point, years ago I met a young cat named Clayton Perry at Love of Learning, an intensive summer program at Davidson College, founded by visionary Brenda Tapia, focused on the holistic development of high school students. At 14, Clayton developed a distinct rep for being a math wiz, budding entrepreneur (he sold everything from snack cakes to Fubu Jeans to his peers), and outspoken advocate on issues of social justice. While other staff members chided him for being too smart for his own good, I took the fellow under my wing and made a point to keep tabs on him. A very organic bond ensued as we discussed keys to making slammin’ sweet tea, how to avoid racial profiling at department stores, and strategies on coping with teachers one card short of a full deck.

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But one faithful night, our relationship changed forever. After fellow counselor and friend Elliott Reid and I noticed Clayton pacing his dorm room hallway hours past curfew, we knew something was wrong. And instead of giving him a tongue lashing about rules, we engaged in a private rap session about all the myriad of issues he faced as a young black male. This culminated in a round of hugs.

Years later I got a call from Clayton who was then a rising junior at the University of North Carolina and the owner of the Nubiano Project (www.thenubianoproject.com), an organization dedicated to redefining mainstream notions of blackness. He would reveal that I had unwittingly served as his surrogate father during our summers together and how our chats over the years had influenced the course of his life.

Now that Clayton has morphed from a former student to a trusted colleague, it’s amazing how our informal sessions had help to sustain him. I guess Sugar was right. It’s those back porch chats at Mamma and nem’s that got us over. Instead of trying to change the world, we should focus on getting our own house in order and being an inspiration right where we are.

So I’ll let Dr. Cosby and other hot headed elders’ blame every social ill on young folk while I spread sweet tea shout outs edifying hip-hop heads with practical solutions and alternative realities anchored in luv.

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