Greyboy by Cole Brown

Author:Cole Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781510761896
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2020-09-04T00:00:00+00:00

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In the fall of ’05, NBA Commissioner David Stern announced a new dress code. The league would begin requiring players to dress in a suit and tie on their way to and from the arenas. Pundits dubbed it the A. I. rule after, who else but my hometown hero, Allen Iverson—the gold-chained, baggy-jeaned player thought to have inspired the policy. The move was hotly debated by sportscasters the world over, but as a third-grade soccer player, I couldn’t have cared less. In fact, I hadn’t even heard of the controversy the following day, bouncing about in the back row of the school bus, daydreaming while Philadelphia sports talk radio blared overhead. I drifted back to reality when their barking loudened. An authoritative voice leveled with me, Let’s be honest, they’re really just trying to get these guys to dress white.

These were the days before race pushed its way to the fore-front, before I knew to notice that we lived in its shadow. I knew of it. I knew I was Black. I knew my classmates were white. I knew my parents were not my white friends’ parents, for they often announced, I’m not your white friends’ parents! But I didn’t know it as I later would, as a personal, penetrating thing. Hearing the announcer’s comment delivered with such authority, I knew that I agreed. I’d only seen few Blacks ever dressed in what Stern now required of his players, none outside our small circle of family and friends. The rest, those in the “out there,” must have dressed like A. I.

My father arrived late that night and took time showering off the day’s stresses. I listened for the drone of news anchors’ voices to signal that he’d settled in, and when they did, I slinked into the bedroom and assumed my position next to him, overtop of the duvet. We began with small talk about the day and what I’d learned. The radio’s pronouncement still ricocheting in my mind, I eventually mustered the courage to ask, Dad, why do you dress white to work?

My father jolted at the question. I rolled my gaze upward in time to separate the emotions as they crossed his face: bewilderment, anger, disappointment, determination. And perhaps, in the crow’s feet corner, fear as well. There are precious few times in my life when I have seen my father at a loss for words. This was the first. To understand his reaction, you first have to have some understanding of him.

Payne Brown was Black on both sides. He grew up in a Fort Wayne that was just simmering from the height of the civil rights movement, riding the bus from his neighborhood to the white schools across town like all the other colored boys. His father, my Pop, traveled the country with the Equal Opportunity and Affirmative Action Office, while his mother, Helen Brown, simultaneously filled the roles of homemaker, barber, and community organizer. I never met Grandma Helen, but the lore of her time on Earth is well-told.

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