ACCESS

Over the holiday break I experienced a few noteworthy things. The overarching theme of the break was ACCESS. As I enter my final three months of ivy-quality training in the craft of barristry, I noticed that at home, as I travelled among circles old and new, it seemed as though I was granted access. Access to new people, new experiences, new realms, professional and social. With new people I met, this was nothing spectacular; they have never known me as anything but an almost-barrister. However, this was especially remarkable when considered in light of older friends, acquaintances, and even family. It was almost as if most of them thought, "Damn, dude is really bout to be done...I'd better start talking to him like he is somewhat respectable now."

What do I mean by access, you say? Consider three examples from my midwestern fortnight holiday.

1. At a social function, two local surgeons, independent of each other, both of whom I have known of, but who have never known me, strongly invited me to dine with them before I returned to my place of study. One of them put the invitation in explicit terms: he intended to explain to me over dinner how I was to conduct myself, and with whom I was to affiliate upon becoming a member of the local chapter of the bourgeise class professional Negroes. You know, "Our Kind of People" and what not. While the other doctor did not state his purpose so explicitly, I gleaned from context that his intentions were similar. It was either that, or the subject of example #2.

2. Independently of one another, a co-worker of my paternal progenitor, as well as two different mothers from my church offered me the contact information of their daughters. They then went into well thought out, thorough explanations of what their daughters were into. One even said "She's only been with one man before."

3. I have been to several general body meetings of a local board of pratitioners of my intended craft. This break, however, I received an invitation to a special gathering of the leading men of this bunch, replete with spirits, ales, and young and attractive women interested in meeting practitioners of our sort. The gathering was rather decadent; the male practitioners enjoyed it thoroughly, and I assume that the young female company exjoyed themselves as well. It was quite the sight; 40-60 year old solicitors and barristers in the Shakespearian stage V of life (see: As You LIke It; diatribe by Toulouse), entertaining shockingly beautiful fillies of comparable age to their own progeny with tales of their trade, and receiving sympathy for their stories of cuckoldry. "Oh you're interested in (enter arbitrary field of study here) school? I can get you into East Southern Central Asscrack State School of (repeat arbitrary field of study here)..." It was a sight.


In considering the totality of the circumstances, this concept of access is a somewhat curious prospect. Should one want the acquaintance, shallow friendship, or respect of others just because of one's professional status? The jury is still out. While it is commendable and righteous to respond with an astounding "No!". I doubt that many have rejected such fringe benefits. In the end, the great equalizer is a knowledge of self; primarily an understanding of why one has pursued any given trade. Did I do it to belong to the Boule, or did I do it to help improve government subsidized housing? Are my efforts to reside within a gated community, and receive invitations to the entire circuit of bourgeoise Negro holiday parties, or did I do this to defend the constitutional rights of the indigent?

Like I said before, the answer should be clear, and I am sure that I will make the right decision. But, it must be said that the Carterian "allure of the game" does indeed "keep calling your name", so much so that it must be contended with.

But alas, should I need inspiration to remain but a humble descendant of southern field slaves, I need only remember that over this same holiday break I was consistently denied access to the grown folks table.