The highlight of Black History Month took place when former President Barack Obama, along with basketball star Steph Curry, took center stage in Oakland, California to address issues facing young men of color. Obama and Curry were not there to talk about how to change federal policy. Instead, they discussed tangible ways in which young black men can facilitate stronger and safer communities.

The town hall event, sponsored by Obama’s “My Brother’s Keeper Initiative,” stressed the values of community mentorship and personal responsibility. The topics raised were wide-ranging. Among them were ways to support young men without fathers, how to reject toxic masculinity, and the importance of embracing monogamy.

Obama spoke candidly about how communities need to raise the level of expectation for how young black men should act. Emphasizing that “real” men do not show their manhood by disrespecting others, or by putting women down, he tried to counteract some of the pernicious elements of culture that are found in some black communities. It was a timely reminder that a strong moral compass makes a difference in life.

He also talked about the value of education. Sitting next to one of the NBA’s greatest players, he told young men they had a better chance of being a lawyer or a doctor than a professional basketball player. In my mind, these nuggets of wisdom Obama imparted were not controversial. But unsurprisingly, some people were upset with him for raising these issues.

Obama’s advice to black youngsters was a deviation from the “victimhood” narrative that is widely accepted among many left-leaning circles as the only constructive way to talk about race.

Some columnists openly criticized the former President and almost all Democratic Presidential candidates offered no praise. (Only Kamala Harris offered a tweet in support.) The lack of praise for Obama’s actions is disheartening.

It’s troubling that more than 50 years after the Civil Rights Movement, there is no space in our political discourse for equal attention to the value of personal responsibility that we give to deconstructing institutional barriers.
 
One columnist in particular, Derecka Purnell, published a piece entitled “Why Does Obama Scold Black Boys?” The fiery piece characterizes Obama’s message as patronizing and on par with how “conservatives depict black people.”

In her defense of her argument, she cites Cornell West’s book “Race Matters,” which says:

Purnell does have a point. (Some, not all) conservatives have a history of using the rhetoric of personal responsibility as a weapon against blacks in order to advocate against particular policy changes.

But just because some have used it to inhibit legislative action does not mean the underlying message has no substance. Telling young black men to respect women, be role models in their community, and prioritize educational achievements over athletics are not partisan statements. In fact, the encouragement of a strong moral compass and personal accountability is within the African American tradition.

Martin Luther King Jr. advocated for the very same principles that Obama talked about.

In a 1953 sermon, King preached that:

​But he also gives equal weight to how institutional barriers shape our lives. To capture his message, I quote him at length:

​It goes without saying that when King gave this speech in 1953, racial equality was abysmal at best.

But in spite of that, King understood the need to give equal weight to personal responsibility. He understood that African Americans were not helpless victims unable to take control over certain aspects of their lives. As he moved further into his career, he would not abandon this belief. King and other black leaders at the time spoke-openly about the importance for more responsible behavior in black communities.

It’s unlikely that anyone at the time believed that King didn’t understand the impact of structural inequities. So why do some not give Obama the benefit of the doubt?

I think it’s because talking about personal responsibility changes the conversation that one side has built a narrative around. Purnell further writes in her piece:

I disagree. Programs like MBK give black men a sense of moral agency that can make them into the best versions of themselves, in a world that doesn’t always hand out a second chance.

And if we were serious about solving racial issues, we would be willing to engage seriously with both sides of this issue.

From a policy standpoint, the myopic focus on dismantling “systems” is incomplete. It’s a mental shortcut that posits the idea that the only way for the improvement of black life is through some governmental intervention and policy change.

The critics will argue, as Purnell does, that social and legislative change are what is required to bring about the justice we deserve.

For the record, I agree — sort of.

I want greater access to healthcare, more funding for education, and an equitable criminal justice system. We need a reorientation of our public policy with greater magnitude and depth than we’ve ever seen before.

But that’s not all I, nor we, should want.

Is it really possible that by authorizing this social program, appropriating more money to some agency, or increasing federal oversight will suddenly deliver the kind of justice we want to see?

I don’t think so. It’s a seductive argument but a weak one that gives no weight to answering moral questions. Instead, a more comprehensive approach in which we equally address internal behaviors and external systems that perpetuate inequality, is a better path forward.

Obama is a little late to the party. But since leaving office, his devotion to ensuring black men take personal steps to bettering themselves is worthy of all our praise. And through his actions, he is re-claiming the personal responsibility narrative from those who historically employed it for partisan gain. Unlike some conservatives in the past who pejoratively talked about “personal responsibility” without any real follow up, Obama is dedicating considerable energy to showing how black men can actually better themselves and their community.

Across generations, black leaders like Booker T. Washington, Marcus Garvey, and Martin Luther King Jr., all believed that living a moral life and taking responsibility for your own actions are essential to the black identity. Obama’s revival of the topic, in a responsible and focused manner, reminds us of this tradition. And that is why it was the highlight of Black History Month.

If you still disagree with me, I ask you to ponder the following questions: Is there anything that Obama said in that town hall that you would not tell your own son?
 
And if you would tell your own children to do so, why do we not unanimously praise Obama when he does it?

If the folks on both sides of this divide would equally embrace the nuances in these issues, perhaps we would see a healthier discourse, more effective public policy and a better America. But doing so requires that we leave our ideological and political motivations at the door.

Let us not forget: black history is American history, black progress is American progress, and black struggles are American struggles. Therefore, the impetus is on all of us — regardless of party, race, or ideology — to engage with these issues in holistic and constructive ways. The stakes are too high, the promises of equality are long overdue, and the Americans whose lives we are trying to improve deserve better.

Nicolás Maduro is an illegitimate president. He retained office through a sham election and has abused his powers in the process of creating a humanitarian crisis in Venezuela. Leaders across the political spectrum in the United States and beyond have recognized Juan Guaidó as the true president of the nation in chaos.
 
One of the leaders recognizing Guaidó is President Donald Trump. President Trump and his administration have been consistent and forceful on the situation in Venezuela. Even before European countries sided with Guaidó, Vice President Pence delivered a message of support to the Venezuelan people, promising that the United States would stand with them “until Democracy is restored” and their “birthright of Libertad” is reclaimed. The Administration has taken a stand on the right side of history, choosing the oppressed over the autocrat, precious freedom over brutal tyranny.
 
For an administration that has been resoundingly criticized for a number of foreign policy missteps, Venezuela seems like an exception. The Trump Administration’s course of action has been the correct one. So, how worthy are they of our praise? The answer is complicated, but the reality is clear: if you are only concerned about human rights when it is politically expedient, then you aren’t actually concerned about human rights.

​Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman is responsible for the dismembering of a journalist, Jamal Khashoggi, and a war in Yemen that has killed so many innocent people that the United Nations can no longer keep an accurate count. However, President Trump has defended the Crown Prince at every turn.
 
Vladimir Putin has his political opponents imprisoned and killed, denies basic rights to minorities, and props up the Assad regime in Syria that gassed its own people. However, President Trump heaps praise on Putin and sides with him over the U.S. intelligence community.
 
In North Korea, Kim Jong Un tortures, murders, and starves his own people, yet President Trump has said he and Kim “fell in love.”
 
In short, President Trump does not care about human rights. His narrow focus on putting “America First” is a misguided mentality that reflects a misunderstanding about foreign policy. In his final book, The Restless Wave, John McCain wrote:

​The universal application of a human rights framework to world affairs is not only morally just, it also advances the cause of American security. There is no American interest more sacred than defending our founding idea, that all Men are created equal, endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights. President Trump has done that in Venezuela. Now, the administration must stand up for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in Saudi Arabia, Russia, North Korea, and everywhere else that freedom is threatened, now and always.

If you were somehow unaware, Ralph Northam, the Governor of Virginia, came under fire this week after the conservative website Big League Politics reported a racist photo being displayed on the Governor’s Eastern Virginia Medical School yearbook page. The photo, which shows one person in blackface and one person in Ku Klux Klan robes (very presumably Northam and a friend), immediately prompted widespread calls for his resignation nationwide. Almost everyone from the Virginia Democratic and Republican Parties to Donald Trump and several democrats running for president have demanded that Northam step down. But, despite my personal disgust with the photo, my initial reaction was that he shouldn’t resign.

When I saw the photo, the first thing I thought of was a project I did for my AP US History class at the end of my junior year of high school. Two weeks before the exam, our teacher asked my class to prepare a short presentation on an official AP term which we had not yet had the opportunity to cover. For my project, I chose the term “minstrel shows” because, despite not really knowing what they were, I knew that they were somehow connected to African American history. I was (obviously) appalled by my research. And though I had always known that blackface was problematic, I wasn’t able to fully grasp the historical context and significance until I did that project.

Unfortunately, due to a combo of snow days and poor planning by my teacher, I never actually presented my findings to the rest of the class. Instead (and pretty ironically), we spent that hour-long class period that had been allocated for the presentations going over the entirety of African American history since the end of Reconstruction. I am not exaggerating. In a day, we went from the rise of Jim Crow to A. Philip Randolph to Brown v Board of Education to the Black Power movements. And that was the only time we ever discussed such matters in the class.

While it made me a little mad that I had spent a considerable amount of time preparing for the presentation and wouldn’t be able to teach my classmates about minstrel shows, I was infuriated by the fact that we just skimmed over such an important aspect of our history. I was infuriated by the fact that we considered such a critical aspect of our history as separate and unrelated to the rise of American on the world stage: two World Wars, the Great Depression, the Cold War, the resurgence of conservatism, etc.

This all being said, most Americans probably have had much less of an exposure to the other side, the African American side, of our history. And, as a result, they probably think that this aspect of our history was much and is much less important and influential than it actually is. I was fortunate enough to have gone to high school in one of the most progressive counties in the United States, and I was fortunate enough to have been able to take an Advanced Placement class which barely covered these subjects. Most of my schoolmates, most Americans, and most of our policymakers were not nearly as fortunate as I was. And yet I still needed to make a little extra effort and enroll in African American History since 1965 during my second year of college to fully (or maybe just partially) grasp the historical context and significance of our country’s racial issues.

How does this all tie into why I didn’t think Northam should resign? I think it does in three ways (and, honestly, more. but I think I can only sustain your attention for three). 

The first is that I found it believable that Northam make an ignorant mistake in 1984. I didn’t think his offense was so egregious that is merited his resignation. It didn’t seem as if he had hurt anyone then (his black classmate from Eastern Virginia Medical felt the same way.) And I felt the policies and political stances he took during his governorship were clear indications that he had evolved as a person. I felt that if he could sincerely apologize, show a clear commitment to the cause of Civil Rights and begin the process of healing, he could, at the very least, regain our trust. I thought that we, at least, needed to hear the man out.

The second is that I hope that Northam remaining in office would lead to a better discussion of race. I thought that is could bring forth interesting conversations about evolution in character that our country needs. When the photo first began to circulate (and before any of his responses), I felt that Northam’s story (loosely) mirrored our country’s story. He used to be overtly racist, now, through his policies, he has shown that he isn’t. Is getting rid of that overt racism enough? How can he make up for the blemishes of his past and how can he better recognize his shortcomings and biases in the present? How can we take this incident and help us move forward into the future? I felt none of these would be answered, or discussed, if he resigned.

Finally, I didn’t think he should step down because I am angry (yes, I will say angry) about so many more salient issues related to race than this one. It didn’t make sense to me that we all would get so worked up out a costume worn at a party 35 years ago when I am so worked up about red-lining, mass incarceration, and the general lack of awareness or understanding of racial issues pervasive throughout this country. Once again, I thought this was relatively harmless compared to, say, Joe Biden’s treatment of Anita Hill in 1991 or the evidence of very discriminatory practices by President Trump’s real estate company in the 1970s. I wondered what the line we draw from outrage is. I didn’t think it was fair that the world could get mad at Northam for something he did 35 years ago when, a lot of the time, it seems like so few of us care about issues that affect minorities today. It’s easy to get angry about overt racism. It’s harder to put in the efforts to get angry about subtle racism. While overt racism definitely still is a problem, I would argue that subtle, institutional racism is a much bigger problem. Where is the unified anger to fight that?  

All of this is to say that we need to make sure our policymakers and our public are better exposed to our country’s racial history and issues. If it truly is too hard to integrate these vital histories into our education systems, the least we can do is change the way we think and talk about race.

So… should Northam resign?

Absolutely.

But not because of a woefully ignorant mistake he made 35 years ago.

He should resign for failing to come forward with the information earlier. He should resign for failing to acknowledge that he was in the photo and for trying to cover up something he admitted to doing a day before. He should resign after he almost moonwalked on stage during a press conference.

​In my opinion, Northam had the opportunity to reconcile for his past. But his actions over the course of the past week showed that he is not ready or fit to do so as governor. Reconciliation is no longer possible without at least a resignation.