Outcast

Outcast (written work)
by Robert Jordan

Every day I live my life as a Black man who is doubted and hated by his own kind. Not from what we deem pigs or the white folk. I’d say they’re more supportive, but I fear for my kind.

I was raised in a proper way, so I tend to think in different ways. Catching strays from my own kind as if I ain’t the same nigga they are. We use that word as a referral to each other and to identify what we were deemed to be — not Black, but a “nigga.” And then when they find out you have a present father, it’s, “Damn, nigga, you got a pops?” I mean, you get my point now.

A dark spirit of corruption has washed over the Black community, which normalized the pursuit of the stereotypical Black man: a gangsta brotha with no pops but lives with his mom, who says “live on” to his bros who lost their lives to this lifestyle of spraying Uzis and Glocks with switches. A lifestyle that leaves monsoons of tears dropped by grieving families and family members. Now, the reputation of us Black folk is an eternal funeral.

Put that in perspective?

I ain’t done.

You see, we let things get put onto us as people that we shouldn’t settle for. “The hood” is normal for us, being broke is normal for us, having three babymamas you left with your kids, and then you going to the store to “grab the milk” is normal for us. Being the face of poverty is normal for us; it ain’t nothing new. Being perceived as “thugs” who do and sell drugs ain’t out the ordinary.

But when a brotha gets his diamond rings and gold chains, it’s out of the picture. See, as soon as you see that, you immediately think that illegal shit’s going on.

When a brotha has his eyes on success and tries to get away from the stereotype, he becomes the “whitewashed” fool. Deemed soft and not a part of a community suffering from its own people. A breeding ground for contradiction and narcissism. A “community” that hates to see you not be “Black.”

So when that “whitewashed fool” becomes successful, he's all of a sudden an outcast instead of a hero, a loser that’s weak instead of powerful. An example of what a Black man should be is instead perceived as what a Black man shouldn’t be. A “fake” individual instead of a strong-hearted person.

I say we hate each other more than we love each other. We kill our own and it’s “he had it coming,” but when the popo comes and ends one of us, it’s “Oh yeah, them pigs have it coming.” A community that owns the killing of themselves but hates when others invade the territory they put down. We hate the murder of our people by law enforcement, but settle with the murder of our people by the hood enforcement.

It’s a pestilence of contradiction, a disease of narcissism, a flu of hatred, a foreseen end of us that others are waiting on. So now the world sees us as only stereotypes.

“Why can’t Black men be good dads?”
“Why do them niggers sag their pants?”
“Why do women clutch their purse every time a Black man comes by?”
“Johnny, let’s leave before they get here.”

We fight and fight for rights, but at the end of the day, I don’t see any changes, just the sight. We want to be treated as equal but show ignorance. “Twerking at the red light, dancing at the red light,” and you wonder why people see you as ghetto. “Ay, I just came up on this bread,” but you did it in a sleazy way. Yelling across the street, “Waddup my nigga,” and wonder why the white folk don’t take you seriously and see you as a joke.

It’s time for us as a people to carry ourselves like we have screws in our heads and not wanting each other dead. When we see another one of us trying to ride that bus, the bus to success, hop on and cheer them on. Maybe you can learn a thing or two and start your own little crew.

It’s time to show the world that Black men can be good dads, not just by providing but by being present, by showing up every day, by being steady. We’ve got to break free from the myth that a “real man” only lives fast and dies young. A real man raises his sons and daughters with love, guides them with wisdom, and gives them something solid to lean on.

What if we all worked together to become that so-called “whitewashed fool”? Not to fit in, but to rise above. To be men who build, not destroy. To be fathers who stick around, to be brothers and sisters who push each other toward success, not just survival.

Imagine a community where it’s normal to be ambitious, where dreams aren’t laughed at but encouraged, where getting educated, building a family, and living a good life are what we expect of each other. We’d be a force the world couldn’t ignore, united not by the stereotypes that hold us down but by a standard of greatness that lifts us up.

It’s time to redefine what it means to be a Black man or woman. To make dignity, not destruction, the legacy we leave behind. To make love, not loss, our inheritance. It’s time to live not just for ourselves but for each other, proving that there’s nothing soft about raising each other up.

We can be heroes, not outcasts. Leaders, not shadows. Together, we can change the story.

It’s time for us to rewrite the script, to let go of what’s holding us back and prove that success, respect, and unity aren’t “whitewashed” — they’re powerful. Imagine a community where we uplift each other, where dreams of success aren’t something to mock but something to celebrate. Imagine if we could turn the “whitewashed fool” into a symbol of strength, someone who breaks free from stereotypes, who defies expectations, who shows that being Black and successful isn’t a contradiction — it’s the future.

Let’s move together, unafraid to break cycles, unafraid to redefine what it means to be Black. Let’s make ambition our anthem, make unity our armor, and make respect our legacy. We have the power to rise above, to build a community where strength is measured by how we lift each other up and where we cheer each other on as we chase something greater.

We can be more than what they expect. We can stand as proof that change is real and that when we’re united, nothing can hold us down. It’s time to live not just for ourselves but for each other. Let’s be the generation that proves we’re more than a label, more than a statistic, let’s show the world what it really means to be Black, proud, and unstoppable.