By Ben Jealous
(Trice Edney Wire) – What Shall I Do With My Boy? Frederick Douglass asked the question in 1853. Maryland is starting to answer it.
In 1836, four white apprentices beat Frederick Douglass nearly blind in a Baltimore shipyard.
He named them years later. Ned North. Ned Hays. Bill Stewart. Tom Humphreys. One came at him with a brick. One swung a handspike into his head. Fifty white carpenters watched. None said stop.
They said the Black caulkers were “eating the bread which should be eaten by American freemen.” Douglass saw past that. The white man, he wrote, “is robbed by the slave system of the just results of his labor.” The men who owned that system taught poor whites to fight poor Blacks. It kept them both poor.
He escaped to New Bedford, a trained caulker in a free town of Quakers and abolitionists. A shipowner tried to hire him. Every white man on the vessel threatened to walk. He shoveled coal instead.
Still no bench for him.
In 1853 he asked Harriet Beecher Stowe to help him build a school where Black boys could learn a trade. There were fathers, he said, “whose minds are tossed by day and by night with the anxious enquiry, ‘what shall I do with my boys?'”
The school was never built. The question never went away.
Ask it again now. Manufacturing jobs peaked in June 1979 and fell for forty years. In the 1950s, 98 of every 100 American men in their prime worked or looked for work. Today it is 89. Black men lived this first.
Then we told every child that college was the only road. Georgetown researchers project only 42 percent of jobs will require a degree by 2031. We closed the shop classes and called it progress. The old track had sorted Black and brown children into dead ends. We did not fix the sorting. We tore out the ladder and left the wall.
Now hear what we tell the boys. The Pentagon studied who could enlist. Seventy-seven percent of Americans aged 17 to 24 cannot qualify. Too heavy. A record. A pill. A test.
Three out of four, told they are not wanted. Then the Army did something quiet. In 2022 it opened a course at Fort Jackson for the ones who failed the standards. It taught them until they met them. About 95 percent passed.
Chaz Andrews had wanted to serve since he was 19. He failed the entrance test more than ten times. He was 29 when the course got him through. Nothing was wrong with Chaz Andrews.
Hugh Price saw this coming. He helped start the National Guard Youth Challenge Program, which lifts dropouts’ earnings 20 percent. The military, the former Urban League president wrote, “figured out long ago how to nurture the potential of aimless young people.”
He did not want to militarize childhood. He wanted the method. High expectations for everyone. A mentor who knows your name. A refusal to sort children into the ones worth teaching and the ones worth writing off.
Charlie Rangel asked the other half. He came home to Harlem from Korea with a Purple Heart and pushed for universal national service. “If we are going to send our children to war,” he wrote, “the governing principle must be shared sacrifice.”
Rangel answered who serves. Price answered how people are made.
Maryland is testing both. Republican Larry Hogan dropped the degree requirement for most state jobs, and hiring without degrees rose 41 percent in four months. Democrat Wes Moore built the first statewide service year in America.
That is real. So is this. Congress has not reauthorized the National Apprenticeship Act since 1937.
Further along than we were. Nowhere near done.
My father ran a Head Start center in San Diego in the late sixties. What surprised him was who objected. Not only men who hated Black children. Also comfortable people who did not want anybody’s poor children given a head start, white ones included.
We would rather sort children than teach them.
Douglass asked what he should do with his boys. We still owe him an answer.
Ten years after Los Angeles burned, I stood backstage waiting to speak. Jack Kemp was at the lectern, pounding it. Our kids, he shouted. Our kids. Our kids.
An elder from South Central asked me where he was from. Upstate New York, I said.
Then whose kids is he talking about?
All of them, ma’am. They are all American children.
The notion stunned her. It should not stun anyone. It still does.
A country is not a nation until it claims them all.
Ben Jealous is a professor of practice at the University of Pennsylvania and former president and CEO of the NAACP.
