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About Portland observer. (Portland, Or.) 1970-current | View Entire Issue (May 27, 2015)
May 27, 2015 Page 7 Opinion articles do not necessarily represent the views of the Portland Observer. We welcome reader essays, photos and story ideas. Submit to news@portlandobserver.com. O PINION $UPLQJ3ROLFHDW368DQGWKH&RPLQJ&RQÀLFW Don’t bring a gun to an XQDUPHG¿JKW T OM H. H ASTINGS F OR THE P ORTLAND O BSERVER On the campus where I teach, Portland State University, there has nev- er been a mass shooting. Indeed, as long as I’ve been here—almost the entire millennium! —no one here has been shot. 2XUFDPSXVVHFXULW\RI¿FHUVKDYH been unarmed the entire time and managed to de-escalate or some- KRZ ¿QHVVH HYHU\ VLWXDWLRQ WKDW has arisen. Good job! Meanwhile, the “normal” po- lice across the U.S. have been shooting and choking unarmed people to death. Black America is in a state of general disaffec- tion with the high rate of unarmed black people who get killed — some say murdered — by beweap- RQHGSROLFHRI¿FHUVHYHU\PRQWK including several in the last few years in our town, Portland. Then, in the fall of 2014, as BY the country continued to roil over these deaths — and new ones like the shooting of young unarmed Michael Brown in Ferguson, Mo. and then the chokehold suffoca- tion of unarmed father of six, Eric Garner, in New York — the PSU Board of Trustees voted to create an armed police force on our campus. Can you see WKHFRQÀLFWFRPLQJ" My campus is not diverse — 60 percent white and a mere three percent African American, for example — but the students and faculty certainly aspire toward more of a complex and representative mix of humankind. Some eight percent of students are international, many from the Middle East, and anoth- er 15 percent are either Asian or /DWLQDR The new president of the stu- dent body is a young Syrian-born mother, a Muslim who is also a PDVWHUVFDQGLGDWHLQ&RQÀLFW5HV- olution, specializing in nonviolent LQWHUQDWLRQDO FRQÀLFW WUDQVIRUPD- tion. Dana Ghazi is a minority student but she was chosen by the majority to lead. I asked her if she had ideas about the campus secu- rity situation. ³$V D VWXGHQW OHDGHU P\ ¿UVW priority is to bring back the focus on students’ voices in opposition to arming the police,” she said. one must wonder whose point of view is compelling to the Board of Trustees? Ghazi asserts it’s not that of the students, and while she is thrust Since two polls of PSU students on this issue show overwhelming student opposition to the new policy, coupled with the PSU faculty polling and voting overwhelmingly against arming campus police, one must wonder whose point of view is compelling to the Board of Trustees? “This is the number one issue on my platform and I intend to work with all stakeholders on campus to ensure that our campus is a safe and inclusive space for all stu- dents.” Since two polls of PSU students on this issue show overwhelming student opposition to the new pol- icy, coupled with the PSU faculty polling and voting overwhelming- ly against arming campus police, straight into the center of this con- troversy by her fellow students, she feels amongst the marginal- ized by the administration. ³$VDQ$UDED0XVOLPDQGRUD woman of color I do not personal- ly feel safer,” she said. “The truth of the matter is that our commu- nities struggle with racism, islam- ophobia and sexism, issues rooted in structural violence. It is enough to pay attention to the national news in the United States to grasp the gravity of these issues. Addi- tionally, the university is an edu- cational space, a space for learn- ing. I feel uneasy when I walk to class in the morning ready to be intellectually stimulated only to pass by people in uniform with guns on their waists.” Ghazi said she’s traumatized watching people here and abroad being subjects to military and po- lice violence. “By this point the campus does not feel like a welcoming space to me,” she said. “I respect and sup- port measures to ensure security on campus, however, I do believe there are alternative solutions that haven’t yet been considered.” Presumably, since the PSU administration has made its deci- sion, the question is settled. But what social scientists know is that to presume that is not to actually know that. Questions that people care about tend to persist and can be revisited. The PSU community has in some ways just begun this conversation. Tom H. Hastings is assistant SURIHVVRULQ&RQÀLFW5HVROXWLRQDW Portland State University. He Sang His Way Out of the Cotton Fields to Touch Us Celebrating B.B. King’s iconic career M ARC H. M ORIAL As a young boy in 1920s Mississippi, Riley B. King—who would one day come to be known as legendary blues icon B.B. King— was introduced to the electric gui- tar at Rev. Archie Fair’s church. The introduction soon turned into infatuation, with King deciding he would learn to play a guitar. As soon as King got old enough, he ordered a guitar playbook from a Sears and Roebuck mail catalog. 7KH ¿UVW WXQH KH OHDUQHG WR SOD\ was “You Are My Sunshine.” For- tunately for us, it would not be the last tune he would coax from his yielding guitar strings. King was born in 1925 on a cotton plantation in the Mississip- pi Delta. The future King of the Blues — the son of sharecroppers and the great-grandson of a slave ² ZRUNHG WKH ¿HOGV ¿UVW DV D picker at the age of seven and then a mule driver. He aspired to be a gospel singer like his mentor, Rev. Archie, but fate had other plans. BY In a 1993 interview, King ad- mitted to leaving Mississippi in the early 1940s because of the racial violence, lynchings and hangings that were becoming all too commonplace. King moved to Memphis, Tenn., playing small gigs and work- ing as a disc jockey at WDIA, the local blues station. The station manager dubbed King the “Beale Street Blues Boy,” which was short- ened to “Blues Boy,” and then to B.B.—and it stuck. It was at this time that King made another mo- mentous introduction, this time to T-Bone Walker singing “Stormy Monday.” King said it was the ¿UVWWLPHKHKDGHYHUKHDUGEOXHV on an electric guitar and he was determined to get one. He got that electric guitar in 1946. What followed was an endur- LQJLQÀXHQWLDOFDUHHUWKDWGH¿QHG DQGUHGH¿QHGWKHEOXHVDTXLQW- essentially American art form with roots in African-American VODYHVRQJV¿HOGKROOHUVDQGVSLU- ituals. King carried its moans and mourning to the four corners of the earth. The blues, set loose on the guitar strings and growl of one of America’s greatest musicians, spoke of our universal experience of pain and perseverance, tribu- lations and triumphs. King once remarked that, “Blues music ac- tually did start because of pain.” A pain he experienced at an early DJH DQG OLNH VR PDQ\ LQÀXHQWLDO DQG JURXQGEUHDNLQJ ¿JXUHV WKDW had come before him, King used his talent to rise out of the dirt of his humble beginnings to live a life as industrious as it was incred- a Presidential Medal of Freedom and has been inducted in both the Rock and Roll and Blues Halls of Fame. King seemed to always be per- forming somewhere, playing an average of over 200 concert dates a year well into his seventies. In 1956, King and his band played an astonishing 342 concerts. He nev- er stopped doing what he loved The blues, set loose on the guitar strings and growl of one of America’s greatest musicians, spoke of our universal experience of pain and perseverance, tribulations and triumphs. ible. A 15-time Grammy Award win- ner—the most Grammys ever re- ceived by a blues singer — King was also awarded the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 1987. In 1998, his most acclaimed song “The Thrill Is Gone” was awarded the Grammy Hall of Fame Award. King also received a National Medal of the Arts award, PRVWSOD\LQJWKHPXVLFZKLFKKH said “was bleeding the same blood as me.” King passed away peacefully in his sleep at his Las Vegas home, and yet, the thrill is far from gone. His notes and innovative sound gave birth to countless blues and rock players, including Eric Clap- ton, Carlos Santana and Keith Richards, to name a few. His contribution to the blues can be heard, and will continue to be heard, in jazz and rock. King’s RXWVL]HG LQÀXHQFH RQ EOXHV² on American music—cannot be overstated. B.B. King is to blues what Louis Armstrong is to jazz, Elvis is to rock, James Brown is to funk and Michael Jackson is to pop. Like King, you cannot men- tion these musical genres with- out prominently mentioning their names and substantial contribu- tions. Today I join the chorus of those celebrating King and his icon- ic career. He sang his way out of 0LVVLVVLSSL¶VFRWWRQ¿HOGVWRWRXFK each of us—black or white, Amer- ican or not—with his talent and insight into our shared human ex- perience. And it is, perhaps, from his brand of soul music that we can learn what found him in that recording studio or night-club al- PRVWHYHU\GD\RIKLVOLIH³(YHU\- body wants to know why I sing the blues. Yes, I say everybody wanna know why I sing the blues. Well, I’ve been around a long time. I re- ally have paid my dues.” I couldn’t agree more. Rest in peace, B.B. Marc H. Morial is president DQG FKLHI H[HFXWLYH RI¿FHU RI WKH National Urban League.