My family is a success story. We’re also evidence of the long odds African Americans face on the path to success.
By Maura Cheeks
Wealth is a number, sure, but it’s also a
feeling. I grew up living with my mom and maternal grandparents, while
my dad played and coached in the NBA. For a time, our family’s safety
net was held together by my grandfather’s HVAC business, but in 2001, it
nearly came apart. That year, the company worked on a project
performing mechanical-contracting work at Lincoln Financial Field, the
home of the Philadelphia Eagles. The timeline did not account for
delays. My grandfather estimates that the company lost $4 million on the
project. Our house was put on the market shortly after. I loved that
house because it felt like home, but also because it made me feel at
home in a predominantly white world, where I felt as if my every move
was on display. The house served as a symbol of wealth to justify
belonging. When we sold it, I felt exposed, as though my family was
showcasing the fragility of black wealth for all to see. I told friends
that my family wanted to downsize. I’m sure they saw through the lie.
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Source: The Atlantic
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