Rev. Eugene F. Rivers III

First things first

By Eileen McNamara, Boston Globe Columnist August 30, 2006

Memo to members of the ministry: When the accusation against an employee is rape, 911 is the first number to dial, not the last.

Alerting police to an alleged sexual assault does not preclude praying with the accuser, launching an internal review of hiring practices, or purchasing surveillance cameras to keep an eye on employees. It does ensure that the appropriate authorities are in full command of a potential criminal investigation from the outset.

The account offered by the Rev. Eugene F. Rivers III of the aftermath of the alleged rape of a 17-year-old girl at a youth center he founded in Dorchester leaves one wondering whether the broader religious community learned a fundamental lesson from the sexual abuse crisis in the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston. Transparency means not only following the letter of state law that requires clergymen, teachers, and social workers to report a suspicion of sexual abuse; it also means avoiding any appearance that institutional self-preservation trumps the protection of children.

Rivers, who is president of the board of the Ella J. Baker House on Washington Street, says the first thing he did when informed of the allegation was go to the girl's home to pray with her and her mother. He says he then sought out the accused, 32-year-old Derrick Patrick, and had a ``long conversation" with him. The Baker House notified authorities of the rape allegation the next day, a timeline that Rivers's defenders say puts him above reproach.

Patrick was arrested last month in connection with the case and charged with paying for sex and inducing a minor into prostitution. The young woman, who says she had consensual sex with Patrick several times at Baker House before the alleged assault, contends that he raped her there after she refused to submit to anal sex. Additional charges could still be filed against Patrick, who has denied any wrongdoing.

A fuller investigation, now underway, will determine whether Rivers simply was offering pastoral care, as he contends, or trying to derail the charges, as the accuser maintains. What is certain is that his first impulse was not to notify police or the state agencies that provide services to at-risk teenagers in Massachusetts and substantial funding to Baker House. A social worker with the Department of Youth Services told the Herald she learned of the rape allegation first from the victim and her mother and only later from officials at Baker House.

As troubling as the rape accusation is the girl's contention that she routinely accepted rides home from Patrick and had consensual sex with him in Baker House, long a highly regarded haven from the streets in this city's most violent neighborhoods. Did no one on the staff question the relationship between this girl and Patrick, an administrator for a program for preadolescent boys? Were there no safeguards in place to prevent such fraternization?

Rivers's candor about governmental indifference to poor people of color might be more responsible than his considerable ego for the mixed reviews his ministry sometimes gets in Boston. He is a vigorous advocate for a constituency easily overlooked, and because he pushes the envelope -- hiring ex-convicts to work with troubled kids on the theory that they speak the same language, for instance -- Rivers is a liability to a Republican governor with presidential ambitions. That, as much as anything that happened at Baker House, accounts for the precipitous decisions by the state Department of Youth Services to cut ties to the youth center after a 10-year association and the Massachusetts Executive Office of Public Safety to withdraw a $350,000 grant.

No urban program for vulnerable teenagers can afford to lose that kind of money, but there is a potentially greater loss for Rivers in credibility if it turns out that he tried in any way to put the brakes on a rape investigation.

Eileen McNamara is a Boston Globe columnist. She can be reached at mcnamara@globe.com.

The Power Movement New England 2006 Men's Crusade

Senator George Allen's Statement on Macaca

Here is a statement Sen. George Allen (R-VA) provided to CNN:

“I’m concerned that my comments at Breaks Interstate Park on August 11th have been greatly misunderstood by members of the media.

“In singling out the Webb campaign’s cameraman, I was trying to make the point that Jim Webb had never been to that part of Virginia – and I encouraged him to bring the tape back to Jim and welcome him to the real world of Virginia and America, outside the Beltway, where he has rarely visited. I also made up a nickname for the cameraman, which was in no way intended to be racially derogatory. Any insinuations to the contrary are completely false.

“Yesterday, I apologized to anyone who may have offended by the misinterpretation of my remarks. That was certainly not my intent. On every stop on my Listening Tour – I have talked about one of my missions for this country – to make it a land of opportunity for all. I have worked very hard in the Senate to reach out to all Americans - regardless of their race, religion, ethnicity or gender. And I look forward to continuing to advocate this important mission for America’s future.

“I never want to embarrass or demean anyone and I apologize if my comments offended this young man. Even though he has signed onto my opponent’s campaign, I look forward to seeing him on the trail ahead.

Powerful July Crusade Touches Boston and New England

Powerful July Crusade Touches Boston and New England

Boston’s storied TD Banknorth Garden, home of the NBA’s Boston Celtics and the NHL’s Boston Bruins, was the site for the Benny Hinn Ministries Holy Spirit Miracle Crusade on July 27–28, 2006. From the first moments of the Thursday service until the final amen late Friday night, the hunger for God’s anointing and power was historic.

Founded in 1630 by Puritan colonists from England, Boston is one of the oldest and most culturally important large cities in the United States. Today, not only is it the capital of Massachusetts, but it is also the largest city and unofficial capital of the entire New England region.

Area pastors had joined together to pray for a powerful revival to sweep through the region, and during the first few moments of the Thursday service, the massive crowd gathered in the TD Banknorth Garden also joined the pastors in that prayer. Few could have known how far-reaching those prayers would be.

The healing anointing during both services, especially among Friday night's packed, standing-room-only crowd, was extraordinary:
Pastor Benny spoke of the strong anointing for cancer and said the Lord was opening a small window for those who needed healing for cancer to receive it. People from throughout the auditorium immediately responded.

A woman who had been tormented with the spirit of witchcraft for over two decades came forward for prayer. Pastor Benny called the host pastors to gather around her and pray. Then he encouraged everyone in the arena to pray. The deliverance experienced by the woman and her family will be remembered by everyone who attended the services.

Two young girls came onstage at the same time. One had been born deaf. The other was afflicted with asthma. Both had been brought to the service by friends. Both were healed dramatically and returned to their families completely changed.

Many were healed from drugs, including a woman who had been captive to a desperate crack cocaine addiction.

Even more exciting were the powerful salvation invitations. Pastor Benny explained God’s plan for man’s salvation in terms anyone could understand. When he asked people to come forward to accept the Lord, thousands upon thousands filled the altar area and aisles, praying and receiving Jesus Christ as Savior.

Many pastors commented that they believed this crusade was the beginning of a historical spiritual awakening in their city and area.

“We have not seen anything like this in the New England area for years,” one host pastor said afterward. “God has done such an amazing work here during this crusade. And we know the move of God is going to spread as He impacts people through what happened here!”
“In the midst of all the beauty and history of Boston,” Pastor Benny says, “people are increasingly hungry for our wonderful Lord. They are searching for meaning and hope. We were so excited to be in Boston for this crusade where God revealed such a powerful anointing. I can’t wait to return to this area, and I ask people all over the globe to pray that God will continue to pour out His Holy Spirit on the people of this historic city and touch hearts in the New England region as never before.”

Be a Vital Part of Our Historic Crusades!

God is doing a mighty work through each Holy Spirit Miracle Crusade! Upcoming crusades are increasingly expensive because of extensive travel and setup costs. Believe with Pastor Benny for a supernatural harvest of souls, Souls, SOULS! Please be part of our historic crusades through a sacrificial gift today.

The Rules of Black Inc: African-American men find themselves tested by stereotyping

The rules of black inc.
African-American men find themselves tested by stereotyping
Sunday, August 13, 2006

BY BRAD PARKSStar-Ledger Staff (New Jersey)

Don't stand too close. Don't talk too loud. Don't ever let your self get angry.
Be twice as courteous. Be three times as friendly. Make sure you dress better, too.

For African-American men in the corporate world, these are just some of what they loosely refer to as "the rules" -- a code of behavior they say applies to them much more so than anyone else, simply because of the color of their skin.

"There's a way all African- American males learn, particularly when we're in a professional environment, to modify our behavior," said Darryl Hughes, who lives in Neptune and works as corporate director for community and senior services at Meridian Health. "It's tone of voice, attitude, speaking style, dressing style. It's really our whole persona. We take measures not to be seen as the threatening black man."

It is, black men say, a fact of working life that hung on for decades after affirmative action began opening corporate doors to them, and that persists in an age when diversity training is a staple of the American workplace.

Because for as much as some things have changed, the image of the black male in America may be as bad as it has ever been: He is nearly seven times more likely to be incarcerated than a white male, twice as likely not to have earned a bachelor's degree, and nearly three times as likely to be unemployed.

And while black men in corporate settings are not described by those statistics -- they are law-abiding, well-educated and gain fully employed -- many still feel the need to compensate (and sometimes overcompensate) for them.

"You go out of your way not to fit the stereotypes, to say, 'Hey, we're not all like that,'" said Jeffrey Robinson, a business professor at New York University and a Piscataway resident. "I think about it all the time. We all do."

It's what leads to those small adjustments in daily behavior that, collectively, become "the rules." And many African-American men report following them: They smile more, so they don't seem angry. They avoid talking with their hands, to diminish their physical presence. They soften their voices. They dress up, even on casual Fridays.

It is, of course, difficult to characterize an entire subset of people in generalities that may not describe the experience of an individual. And just as there are black men who feel the conscious need to modulate their behavior, there are others who get along just fine by being themselves.

But one thing appears to be universal: Being a black man in the workplace comes with a set of issues that can never be ignored.

"Race always matters ... it just does," said Mark Ferguson, an investment banker who grew up in Newark's Baxter Terrace public housing project. "It's always in play for us."


GOING UP?
It is something that, for black men, finds its way into everything from the most important meetings to the smallest daily interactions.

There is, for example, what Albert McWilliams refers to as "the elevator thing."

McWilliams, the director of government relations for BASF and the former mayor of Plainfield, says he always goes out of his way to exchange pleasantries with co-workers in the elevator.
"You have to be extra-friendly or else you get viewed with suspicion," McWilliams said. "A black man cannot have the same rules of courtesy as a white man. You don't want to give people the impression you don't like them because they're white."

Then there's the other "elevator thing" many black men say they've experienced: when a white person, especially a white woman, moves farther away or clutches her purse tighter because a black man has entered the elevator.

"It's not unusual as a black male to feel you're threatening," said Ronald Barrett, a professor of psychology at Loyola-Marymount who is black and has studied African-American culture. "When you talk about darker skin color, different hairstyles and modes of dress, and certainly physical size, these are all factors known to increase white discomfort."

That's where "the rules" come in. They're about making others more comfortable. And there's a perception that those who know the rules -- and play by them -- have an easier time getting ahead in corporate America.

"People in my circle have really mastered it," said Randal Pinkett, a winner of Donald Trump's "Apprentice" and co-founder of BCT Partners in Newark. "We know the rules. We know how to play the game. We wouldn't have gotten where we are if we didn't."

IN THE SAND TRAP
The flip side can also be true: Not playing the game has a price.

Adrian Mapp, a Plainfield resident who is associate director in accounting at Bristol-Myers Squibb, says he's grateful for the opportunity his company has given him to support his family, but he describes himself as "stuck in middle management." And he notices that people who "look like me" are often stuck for the same reasons.


"When it comes to upward mobility, this is a relationship-driven organization. It's not necessarily your expertise that matters," Mapp said. "It's not that I don't have a good rapport with people in upper management. It just seems like either you're part of 'the group' or not. You're either going out and having drinks and going out on the golf course, or you're not. Well, I'm not a big golfer --I like the game, but I only started about five years ago. And when it comes to hanging out at bars after work, that's not something I'm going to do. I'm a family man."

Naturally, corporate game-playing is something germane to all races: No one is quite the same person in the corporate board room as they are in their own family room.

But some black men say they go off to those board rooms each day believing they have to conform to a higher standard.

"You're always conscious that you can never do anything off-line from what's expected," said Michael Washington, a Manalapan resident who is a technical analyst at Chubb. "You have to be in the top 100 percent of what's proper."

As McWilliams puts it: "The penalties for doing anything wrong are just far greater for African- Americans. If you garble grammar in a memo as a black person, people make certain assumptions about your education. If anyone else garbles grammar, it's just considered to be a typo. You have to pay attention to those little details or else it can hurt your career long term."

Yet, no matter where they find themselves on the corporate ladder, African-American men say race is a workplace issue they have to deal with in ways others don't.

"I don't think other groups spend as much mental energy on how they're being perceived," Hughes said. "Sometimes I wonder, am I being perceived as a valuable member of this organization who happens to be African-American? Or am I being perceived as a token so someone can say, 'Look, we got one'?"

It becomes an especially pressing issue when problems arise.
If a promotion is denied, an idea is ignored or a new client seems ill at ease, black men often find themselves wondering: Is it race?

"I'm always asking myself that," said Jeffrey Stokes, an operations manager for Public Service Enterprise Group. "When you have problems with people and they're not doing what you ask of them, in the back of your mind you're always saying, 'Is it because they're not understanding me? Or is it because I'm black?'"


CONSTANT DECISIONS
Answering that question in the affirmative leads to other issues, namely: What do you do about it? Let it slide? Make a scene?

Black men in this country have been dealing with this problem one way or another for hundreds of years, said Clement Price, a professor of history at Rutgers-Newark.

"Historically, people have seen the black man as the coward, the black fool, the minstrel character like Jim Crow who says 'Yessir' and 'Nossir,'" Price said. "But they have also seen the scary black man, the man of great strength and courage, someone like (boxer) Jack Johnson, who used to stick towels in his crotch to exaggerate the size of his manhood."

Most black men are somewhere in the middle -- neither Jim Crow nor Jack Johnson -- but they're constantly making decisions about where to fit within that spectrum, Price said.
Ferguson remembered a time when, as a vice president of an investment banking firm, he had been courting a potential client on the phone and developing a relationship over many months. When it came time to meet, Ferguson took his entire team, which included an older white man.
As they got off the elevator, the potential client went immediately to the white man, assuming that was Mark Ferguson, the V.P.

"Anytime something like that happens, it leaves you with a decision: Do I make this guy feel bad about this or do I just let him off the hook?" Ferguson said. "But this was a guy whose business I needed. So I let him off the hook. You have to learn not to sweat
certain things."

Hughes does the same thing when he gets what he calls "the reaction."
"It's the look you get when you first meet someone and you can tell they weren't expecting an African- American because of the way I talk," Hughes said. "And then I show up and you see the shock. It's a blink, a pause, a double take, a slack jaw. I've seen it all."
Hughes says he just moves right along, pretending it never happened.

Pinkett says he's gotten his share of "the reaction" and accepts it only to a point.
"Sometimes you have to call people on it," Pinkett said. "You can get lulled into saying 'Yes, sir' and 'No, sir' to everything, and it's a slippery slope. Because you keep doing it, and then you've sold your soul."

It is, he says, one of the toughest rules to master. Pinkett and Robinson, who were roommates at Rutgers in the early 1990s, have vague plans to write a book about it someday. In the meantime, the old roommates just talk about it among their own peer group.

"You'd think we would have moved past this stuff, because it's 2006, but we really haven't," Robinson said. "Sometimes I wonder, will it always be this way? Will it be like this for our kids?"

Bishop Jakes rejects politics, embraces public service

As a black pastor of iconic prominence in our postmodern times, Bishop T.D. Jakes is known as a virtuoso, a preaching phenomenon and a force of change. Nationally renowned for his rousing sermons espousing spiritual healing and prosperity, Jakes has been christened as a black Billy Graham with the potential cultural impact of Dr. Martin Luther King.

Like Graham in his evangelistic heyday, Jakes draws thousands to his conferences in major cities across the country, and like King, Jakes' ministry at The Potter's House in Dallas includes economic and educational initiatives. Assistant ministers under Jakes' tutelage oversee outreach programs for GED, literacy, the homeless and the incarcerated. These programs are designed to uplift not only those in the black community in the Dallas/Forth Worth area, but all who desire to overcome hardship.

In spite of all the significant work Jakes is doing in Dallas, he, like all leading pastors, constantly endures harsh criticism. A recent charge against Jakes was put forth by Princeton University professor Cornel West, who claimed the distinguished minister lacks political courage.

Due to our tense political climate and the importance of the upcoming midterm congressional elections, West's assertion is not surprising, since other outstanding black conservative pastors, such as Atlanta's Bishop Eddie Long, are well known for their support of Bush and his faith-based agenda.

West would like to see Jakes use his enormous influence to challenge the policies of the right, but Jakes has declared he will remain politically neutral.

Although many regard Jakes as a Bush ally because of his counsel to the president, The Potter's House - unlike Long's ministry - has not taken any government funding for its service programs. Jakes strongly advocates that churches receiving federal funds designate separate entities to carry out public ministries, and he has warned black clergy to guard against being used as political pawns.

Black intellectual activists like West will continue to criticize Jakes for what they see as political diffidence.

Yet if they closely examine The Potter's House service programs, they will see that Jakes' ministerial objectives line up with the progressive politics of the civil rights era that were designed to establish educational and class parity.

The Potter's House currently is constructing the first phase of a $10 million facility called Capella Park, which will include a Christian preparatory academy, a senior citizen complex and retail space. Capella Park is part of the Metroplex Economic Development Corp. founded by Jakes that aims to develop strategic partnerships with civic and corporate organizations. MEDC is in line with the vision Jakes illustrated in a recent editorial posted on CNN.com, stating that "overcoming many of the existing challenges African-Americans face can be achieved with a plan that encourages a more cohesive community relationship and the spawning of entrepreneurial endeavors and business initiatives."

Jakes' approach to eradicating the social ills that have plagued blacks is both practical and biblical, and it continues the tradition of the social gospel upheld by the black church during King's leadership. Today, however, black churches are no longer the sole institutions used to express political platforms, and many of those other institutions have sufficient resources to carry out their agendas for community empowerment.

According to The Roundtable on Religion & Social Welfare Policy, the average congregation contributes $184,000 annually to communities.

For The Potter's House - the nation's largest black megachurch, with more than 28,000 members - the contributions are in the millions. As evident from MEDC and the multiple Potter's House ministries, the thousands of lives that have been and will be touched by Jakes' outreach will greatly enhance the Dallas/Forth Worth region.

Jakes already has a public service record that would put many politicians to shame. Thus from his devotion to his ministry, one can see that political courage goes far beyond chastisement of elected officials. It also is gauged by one's daring to change adverse circumstances that hinder others. Jakes has humbly chosen the latter.

• Jessica Johnson, a 1987 graduate of Clarke Central High School, is a special correspondent for the Columbus (Ohio) Dispatch and an adjunct professor at Columbus State Community College. She holds a Ph.D. in cultural studies from The Ohio State University.

Written by Jessica Johnson
Published in the Athens Banner-Herald on 072306