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Tuesday, 10 June 2025
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Written by Han Lheem
The concept of Black fatigue, as originally articulated, referred to the profound and chronic stress experienced by Black Americans as a result of systemic racism and enduring racial injustice. A revisionist interpretation, however, has gradually broadened the term to include the frustrations expressed by both conservative white and Black Americans in response to contemporary cultural and political narratives.
This expanded definition, advanced by voices such as J. Antoine Miner, Sr., in his article "Black Fatigue: A Call for Accountability, Not Accusation" (Up & Coming Weekly, Vol. 30, Issue 21, May 21–27, 2025, https://www.upandcomingweekly.com/views/11466-black-fatigue-a-call-for-accountability-not-accusation), warrants closer scrutiny. While these revisionist perspectives raise emotionally charged and rhetorically compelling arguments, particularly around accountability and agency, a more rigorous and balanced analysis reveals that the complex interplay of systemic injustice, cultural expression, and community responsibility must be understood as interrelated forces rather than competing ones.
First, the article critiques the persistent invocation of systemic racism to explain social challenges in Black communities, suggesting that this perspective deflects from personal responsibility.
Yet this binary, systemic critique versus personal accountability, is a false one. The two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, empirical research repeatedly shows that structural disadvantages and personal agency interact in shaping outcomes. For instance, a 2020 report by the Brookings Institution found that Black Americans are disproportionately affected by systemic inequalities, including attendance at underfunded schools, residence in economically disadvantaged areas with limited employment opportunities, and exposure to discriminatory policing practices.
These factors collectively contribute to persistent cycles of poverty and criminalization (Brookings, 2020). Ignoring these systemic conditions in favor of solely promoting “tough love” approaches misses the broader context that constrains individual choices.
Needless to say, the article’s call for community accountability is not without merit. Anecdotal and sociological evidence suggests that internal critiques have long existed within the Black community. Figures like Malcolm X, Bill Cosby (before his legal downfall), and academic scholars like John McWhorter have all raised alarms about internal cultural decay and the danger of glorifying dysfunction in music and media.
Indeed, in his 2004 NAACP speech, Cosby famously decried a “culture of disrespect,” drawing both applause and condemnation. More recently, McWhorter’s Woke Racism (2021) argues that progressive overreach has infantilized Black communities rather than empowering them. These voices reflect a real tension: how to acknowledge historical and ongoing oppression without reducing Black identity to perpetual victimhood.
Still, the framing in the article leans heavily into conservative talking points without sufficiently addressing how narratives of “Black-on-Black crime” or “absentee fathers” are often weaponized to deflect from the government’s role in perpetuating inequality.
For example, the “absentee father” trope, while a legitimate concern, is frequently misrepresented. According to a 2013 CDC study, Black fathers are statistically more involved with their children on average than fathers of other races, particularly in daily caregiving activities (CDC, 2013). While incarceration and economic instability have certainly strained Black family structures, the causes are deeply rooted in discriminatory housing, employment, and criminal justice policies.
A one-sided emphasis on personal failure obscures this broader truth.
Moreover, the piece critiques expressions of Black culture, especially in music, as glorifying ignorance or “thug life.” While some mainstream hip-hop certainly romanticizes violence or materialism, this view ignores the genre’s rich tradition of protest, resilience, and social commentary.
From Public Enemy to Kendrick Lamar, hip-hop has often served as a voice for marginalized Black youth, speaking to the very injustices that the article downplays. Blanket condemnation of such cultural expression risks silencing a vital outlet of community identity and resistance.
What the article does succeed in highlighting is a palpable frustration shared by many Black Americans, particularly those who feel politically or ideologically alienated from the mainstream civil rights discourse. This fatigue is not new.
Figures like Booker T. Washington and later Shelby Steele have long argued that moral uplift, education, and individual effort should form the backbone of Black advancement. It's important not to dismiss the renewed interest in these views among some community members, particularly as urban violence, economic disparities, and political polarization remain pressing concerns.
Still, genuine progress requires marrying personal responsibility with structural reform, rather than pitting one against the other.
In communities like Fayetteville, mentioned in the article, the answer lies in both community-driven reform and policy support. Programs that invest in youth mentorship, vocational training, and mental health resources, such as Chicago’s Becoming a Man initiative, have shown success in reducing school dropout rates and criminal activity. Such initiatives model how cultural change and structural intervention can go hand in hand.
In conclusion, Black fatigue is a real and multifaceted phenomenon. Instead of using it as a rhetorical tool to pit community accountability against systemic critique, a far more effective strategy is to embrace both. While the community must indeed take ownership of its challenges, that ownership needs to be robustly supported by policies and cultural narratives that genuinely empower, rather than shame.
True progress won't come from denying the past or assigning all blame to it. It will emerge from deeply acknowledging how history continues to shape the present and collectively committing to a future of shared responsibility.
References
Brookings Institution. (2020). Examining systemic racism in the United States. https://www.brookings.edu
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). (2013). Fathers’ involvement with their children: United States, 2006–2010. National Health Statistics Reports. https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nhsr/nhsr071.pdf
Cosby, Bill. (2004). “The Pound Cake Speech.” https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/2004-bill-cosby-pound-cake-speech/
McWhorter, John. (2021). Woke racism: How a new religion has betrayed Black America. Portfolio.
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Tuesday, 03 June 2025
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Written by Troy Williams
Children should not be used as political tools. Many concerning events are occurring in Fayetteville, and our political conflicts are increasingly intense. While these battles impact our children, it's essential to remember that their role is to enjoy their childhood, while ours is to protect them and ensure a secure future. We should not use them to advance our agendas, incite anger, or create division before they can develop their opinions.
Curfews, old laws requiring adolescents to stay off the streets during specific hours, are experiencing a resurgence. As curfew laws become more popular, youth advocates are increasingly working to oppose them.
For politicians, curfew laws effectively convey an image of being tough on law-and-order issues.
A couple of recent high-profile shootings in Fayetteville have affected our community, reopening a discussion many believed was resolved about 18 months ago. Our community is understandably feeling frustrated and fearful. Residents want the police to act, even though there is only a weak connection between enforcing a youth curfew and preventing the violence we are currently facing.
The last time Fayetteville considered a curfew, public opposition prevented any plans to implement this measure. This time, Mayor Mitch Colvin of Fayetteville opted for a bold new strategy to accomplish his goals. According to several members of the Fayetteville City Council, Mayor Colvin called for a curfew without consulting all the council members. Colvin stated he was ready to declare a state of emergency, allowing him to make decisions without the Council's consent. Colvin's tenure as mayor has been plagued by violent crime and homicides; why is this curfew being initiated now? Many citizens find the timing suspect.
Councilmember Mario
Benanvante said, "City Council has previously claimed that we don't want to tell police how to police, but imposing this criminalization curfew proves our hypocrisy. The chief of police made it clear at the meeting that his officers are already capable of initiating contact and arriving at articulable reasonable suspicion if they need to take action, no matter what time of day. We are not giving the police an additional tool. We are simply creating unnecessary interactions with young people who should be met with help, not handcuffs."
Despite numerous unanswered questions, the Fayetteville City Council voted to implement the youth curfew during its meeting on May 27. Councilmember Lynne Greene, one of the four members who opposed the measure, stated, "We are rushing a process that should not be rushed."
Mayor Colvin's thinking is difficult to understand. Two of the three most vulnerable communities for violence in Fayetteville are located along Murchison Road, where Colvin Funeral Home is situated. This issue has persisted since he first took office. A few years ago, in the Broadell subdivision, a young boy was killed in a drive-by shooting in his front yard. Colvin himself grew up in Broadell, just a block off Murchison Road. None of this pushed him over the edge, but a no-injury shooting at the Dogwood Festival did.
Is it just politics again? Only time will tell.
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