*I use Black and African American interchangeably.
This week the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation (CBCF) held its annual legislative conference at the Walter E. Washington Convention Center in Washington, D.C. The 2019 theme is “400 years: Our Legacy, Our Possibilities…” If you’re not familiar with the CBCF, it’s a “nonprofit nonpartisan public policy, research and educational institute that seeks to improve the socioeconomic circumstances of African Americans and other underserved communities.” There are many panel discussions on a variety of issues affecting African Americans including affordable housing, the 2020 Census and economic equality. It’s also a huge networking opportunity to meet Black legislators and other professionals who care about and are in a position to affect public policy.
This wasn’t my first time attending the CBCF. I’m a Maryland native, and CBCF week is a highly-anticipated event in the college-educated, middle class Black community. I say “college educated” because the event does target a specific demographic. Many, including myself, call their target audience the “Black Bourgeoisie.” The Root senior writer, Michael Harriot penned a hilarious description of CBCF week; however, I have to warn you - if you’re not Black, many of his references will go over your head. I laughed all throughout his piece because Harriot is accurate in his description of the stark class differences between most CBCF attendees and us regular Black folk. There is an air of elitism and privilege at CBCF.
However, I respect that the CBCF seeks to find solutions to systemic issues. There were many informative panels seeking to educate and raise awareness about pressing concerns in African American communities. They talked about the spread of misinformation through social media that disproportionately targets African Americans; apparently, over 50 percent of people of color get their news from Facebook. They talked about the 2020 Census, affordable housing, education and the condition of Black men and boys. The panelists and experts shared a great deal of information to wrestle with and consider when trying to build a world more justly loving. There was also a huge exhibiting hall with vendors sharing resources. Several government agencies had tables in the exhibit hall.
But despite the major networking opportunities and the chances to speak face-to-face with Black legislators and lobbyists, the most moving part of the CBCF for me was when I left the convention center to add more money to my meter. A Black man I assume is homeless asked me for money. I gave him a couple of dollars I had in my purse, fed the meter and went back to the conference, but couldn’t help thinking about the dichotomy of the homeless Black man and the conference attendees carrying Prada bags, wearing silk suits and Christian Louboutin shoes while exchanging business cards hoping for their next “come up.” Some Black people have seats at the proverbial table, but many of us are still scraping for the crumbs that fall from it. Many Black people view the CBCF as an opportunity for the Black Bourgeoisie to pat each other on the back, flaunt their wealth and titles, and party to put it simply. Despite their success, there still is a huge wealth gap in the Black community. Gentrification has forced many Black people out of the former “Chocolate City.” Police still target and violate the rights of Black people in Washington, D.C. at disproportionately higher rates than other demographics. Trump pulled Rep. Elijah Cummings card, when he challenged Cummings on his effectiveness in Baltimore and then had his people interview residents in Cummings' district about their living conditions. I'm no fan of Trump, but you can't ignore the testimonies shared online of the people Rep. Cummings serves. I'm sure there are many poor Black people like the man I encountered who want to know exactly how the CBCF affects them and if the CBCF cares about their experiences.
CBCF can be a good time, but I hope that “we” haven’t gotten so far removed from the people we claim to be trying to help. I know the homeless man outside of the conference reminded me of why I do the work I do. I’m there to speak for him. I represent him and many others who don’t have conference passes to make their voices heard. I hope others remember this as well while they’re rubbing elbows with their political idols.