I always wanted to be a podiatrist. I found it an interesting area of medicine to pursue. A couple of years ago, I found Youtube videos of a black podiatrist taking care of black patients whose feet were in terrible shape. A lot of his patients’ feet had been ravaged by diabetes. I love watching this black man wash these black people’s feet, many of them almost destitute, with care and grace. Many of his patients were ashamed of their feet, but this man provided them the dignity that we all are entitled to. He was kind, gentle, patient, attentive, and caring in the application of his profession. This black doctor built his practice by treating the feet of poor black people, with honor and love.
The humility it takes to touch and care for another person’s feet is not lost on me. In some Middle-Eastern countries showing someone the sole of your shoes and feet is a grave insult. Mormons will shake the dust off their shoes of a house they will never return to again. For a person to dedicate their life to taking care of other people’s feet seems holy to me. I guess that is why this man’s videos fascinated me.
I also enjoy watching black barbers employ their craft to take care of black people. I am bald. I have been bald for almost 15 years. Only after growing a beard do I now find myself in the chair of a barber every couple of weeks. For the past two or three years, I have watched black men give other black men all sorts of line-ups, and all types of fades: high, mid, and low. I enjoy the pride they take in their skills and how those skills give confidence and transform another black man. There is just something about entering a barber’s chair one way and being reborn when you get out. There is more vigor in your step. Your posture is straighter. Your smile is more radiant.
My parents have been married for almost 63 years. My father is alive so is my brother. I talk to black men each day, not just for work but to check in and see how they are fairing. I am not watching these videos as a substitute for affection that I was denied; but as a force multiplier of the love, we have for ourselves. Each video is a testament to black people supporting black businesses. Every shape-up is an attestation to the power of the black consumer.
These videos allow us to tell our story. Each of us has the full capability of producing a movie in our pocket. Each patient or customer is a real person who has sought out the services of another black person to provide them with something they need or want. It is a way for us to share our joy, instead of being regulated by people who only look to exploit us and the culture. These videos do not extract from the culture but rebut the assumptions that have been disseminated about us. We control how we are portrayed in each of these videos. We are in control of our own narrative in these videos.
There is no call for militancy in these videos. We do not mourn in these recordings. Black folks are not pitted against each other. The antagonist is an unruly hairline or hammerhead toenails. There is no urgent need to march or seek justice for an injustice that has just occurred. It is black people employing their talents to benefit other black people. These videos demonstrate the pride that black folk have in their own abilities.
There is power in these videos. I find them subversive. Each video is a whisper to a coconspirator. A shibboleth. A reminder to the Culture that there is more than one way to be black. I find love and joy in these videos, and I have no plans to stop watching.
This post originally appeared on Medium and is republished with author's permission. Read more of Garrick McFadden's work on Medium.