Cornel West is a highly respected educator, philosopher, intellectual giant and stalwart warrior for black folks. High praise, indeed, and all of that doesn't even begin to describe him.
He's a serious man when it comes to serious issues ranging from healthcare reform, war, civil rights, the economy, poor people, Christianity, family, social justice and more.
The thought of interviewing him left me a bit uneasy. He's such a conversant individual that I wondered if he would talk over my head or whether he'd think my conversation weak.
After all, he's not only a scholar with other friends who are also scholars, but he's the Class of 1943 University Professor at Princeton University, a cultural icon, a New York Times bestselling author, and considered a genius by many.
As I walk into the room, West munches on grapes and crackers, dressed in his trademark black suit, white shirt, black tie, black vest, black scarf, black spectacles and black loafers. At 56, his tousled salt-and-pepper mane, moustache and beard belie his youthful exuberance.
As he looks over the rim of his glasses he rises, offers his hands and asks how I'm doing with what seems to be genuine concern.
"How are you sistah?" he asks, looking me straight in the eye.
"I'm well," I answer.
"Would you like some water?" he asks, turning to retrieve it before I've had a chance to reply. "Here," he says, handing me the water. "Have a seat."
With swift precision, he manages to disarm me, making me feel at home in a green room inside the Los Angeles Public Library downtown. He's there to be interviewed by his friend, Tavis Smiley, as part of the facility's Aloud Lecture Series.
This day the topic is West's latest tome, a long-awaited work titled, "Brother West: Living and Loving Out Loud, A Memoir," co-written with David Ritz and released Oct. 14.
In the book, West, dubbed by many as "the world's smartest Negro," gets personal. He talks about how he went from being a childhood bully to Harvard, among other issues.
Smiley, who hosts talk shows on both public radio and television, describes West as his "dearest friend in the world;" so much so that when he built his home, Smiley added a separate wing for West, who stays there whenever he comes to Los Angeles.
Smiley calls it — what else? — The West Wing.
And while West, who was called "Little Ronnie" growing up, gives off a stern, conservative exterior, Smiley says there is much more underneath.
"Besides being the (W.E.B) DuBois of our time, number one, he's the funniest guy you'd ever meet," Smiley said. "You don't see that when you first meet him. He can be a stand-up comedian. Number two, he is a party animal. He will dance you off the floor. He doesn't go home until they play the last song. He graduated in three years with two degrees, and he never missed a party. He would go to the party with the books under his arm."
I caught up with West (who likes to call everyone brother and sister regardless of their ethnicity) just before his well-attended Smiley interview.
LAWT: Why did you decide to do a memoir now?
CW: Brother Tavis raised that question to me. He said, 'It's time to let people know who you are.' I've been on the move so long, I never really thought about myself. It takes time, you know, for a retrospective. And writing about your life is, itself, a life-transforming experience. You have to go back and talk about events and look in the corners of your soul. Most of us don't want to stay there too long. We want to get in and quit.
LAWT: So do you think you've done a good job with your life?
CW: I think that I'm an undeniable failure because I haven't loved enough or served others enough. I have fallen short. Now, as a Christian, I know I'm a cracked vessel anyway. And so, the question for me, when I talk about Samuel Beckett, is try again, fail again, fail better, try again, fail again, fail better. So the question always for me is how good is my failure. There are failures that are better than other kinds of failures. If I hadn't tried at all, it would be a colossal failure. If I tried and fell short, I'm a better failure.
LAWT: You write about black leaders' lack of real righteous indignation and unity, and how it arises from insecurity. What do you mean by that?
CW: We have too many leaders who are spiritually underdeveloped. Egos too big. Addicted to the camera. Preoccupied with career rather than really serving the people. Someone like Martin King, Fannie Lou Hamer, Stokely Carmichael, you could meet them and within minutes you knew they were for real.
You meet a lot of these stars nowadays, there ain't no spirit there. It's all glitz and blitz. Now, God bless their success, but success is overrated. Greatness has to do with the quality of your spirit. We do have it on local levels. But, on the national level, the television culture, where the camera is so central, makes it difficult for those kinds of people to surface. Another thing we talk about is spectacle. It's the difference between Aretha (Franklin) and Beyonce. I love both of them very much. Beyonce is spectacle. In terms of deep, spiritual nourishing and her singing, Aretha, Gladys and even Angie Stone and Jill Scott. But, Aretha will never be a big star because she doesn't look the way Beyonce looks — these days. I'm sick about that. Cause we need Aretha. Her genius is overwhelming. The whole culture is spectacle.
LAWT: So, do we have any real black leaders nationally? The question also applies to President Barack Obama.
CW: Barack is a complicated brother because he's so new. He's still in some ways untested. We know that if Barack looked the way the late, great Isaac Hayes looked, he wouldn't be president. That's spectacle. That's mainly because white folks wouldn't have voted for him. Isaac Hayes was a genius. Stereotypically he's a threat. Now, I think Barack has substance, but it's more in the form of potential. He hasn't even begun to fulfill his potential. We don't know whether he will or not. Just because you win an election doesn't mean that you have fulfilled your potential. The question is, are you going to be great? You're now successful as a politician. You won. Are you going to be great? What's the definition of greatness? Well, for me, talk about issues of everyday people, working people. The banking people think he's great. He just bailed them out $800 million. Wall Street thinks he's great. They say the recession is over. They ain't seen the community. What's over? What recovery are you talking about? It's a challenge to the brother (President Obama). God bless the brother.
LAWT: What are your thoughts on his Nobel Peace Prize?
CW: It's more for potential. What peace have you wrought? You're escalating a war. You're going to be a war president with a peace prize?
LAWT: Are you comfortable with the monikers people give you — like cultural icon or visionary?
CW: I don't believe in all that stuff. The world can elevate you and make you feel like a king. It's a lie. Got one King on the cross. The world will talk about you like a dog. It's a lie. All that icon mess, it's fleeting. One moment you're an icon, the next moment they can't stand you. You're a star one day, the next moment everybody is saying, 'Wasn't that the cat who used to be somebody? He ain't nothing now. He ain't worth a dime.' The thing that lasts forever is going to be the thing that really matters, which is the power of love, the power of education, and the power of your mind and the power of your soul and heart. That's true whether you've broken the Ten Commandments or live in a mansion.
LAWT: You love music. You talked about being a bluesman. Are we all bluesmen?
CW: No, you have to choose to be a bluesperson. Blues has to do with character. The blues confronts catastrophe with courage and compassion. The blues is an elevated state. It takes courage to keep loving.
LAWT: Does race still matter?
CW: Absolutely! And by race matters, what we're saying is black people count. Black suffering ought to make a difference in how we understand the world.
LAWT: When Martin Luther King Jr. was killed, you said you were filled with anger and outrage that was hard to control.
CW: From the beginning, I've been full of rage. That's why I was a gangster when I was small. I was Robin Hood-like — taking from the kids who had and giving it to kids who didn't have. I couldn't stand the fact that people were just treated wrong and unjustly. So, I had that rage, but you have to find a positive channel for your rage or it will devour your soul and you'll drink from the cup of bitterness. But, the rage is still there.
LAWT: Why do you still have rage?
CW: The suffering is still so intense.
LAWT: Any regrets about your life?
CW: My major regret is I wish I'd met one woman who I could have stayed with.
LAWT: Was it them or was it you?
CW: Both. I think our standards were so high. You got to have more admiration, personal adoration and physical attraction. That's a whole lot.
LAWT: Why do you love black people so much?
CW: I try to love everybody, but I love Negroes. I don't know. I started off with mama. She's the ultimate Negro. My father is gone. But, I think it has a lot to do with the fact that they loved me so much. When you have that kind of pure, unadulterated love coming at you, you want to give it back.
LAWT: Tavis (Smiley) says at a party you would be the last one on the dance floor.
CW: He's right about that. I love to dance.
LAWT: If you're on the dance floor, what are you dancing to?
CW: Oh, Lord, some James Brown, The Funkadelics, Ohio Players, Watts 103rd St. Rhythm Band — anything funky. I'm old school, ya know. Dancing is unbelievable joy. There is joy in just dancing, getting your thang off.
West is currently in the middle of a six-week book tour. His book costs $25.95.
Darlene Donloe is a writer for the L.A. Watts Times.
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