Soul Brother Goes Corporate

What makes a man a man? That's a question I hear often in the Black community. I was born in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, to Haitian immigrant parents. Jacques Etienne is the name. I'm twenty two years old, and recently graduated from Northeastern University with my MBA. I previously acquired my bachelor's degree in accounting from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. Black, male and educated. That's me. I'm the brother you never hear about. The one who doesn't walk around with his pants hanging low, smoking weed and butchering the English language with every syllable that comes out of his mouth. The one Black women claim doesn't exist. I'm like a unicorn, basically. Pleased to meet you, ladies and gentlemen. I am REAL.

I work for Fidelity Investments, one of the biggest multinational financial services corporations in the world. I work at the Fidelity Investments Investor Center on Boylston Street in downtown Boston. I'm one of fourteen Black employees of the company's downtown location. Eight men and six women. Here I am, a brother working in corporate America, and I have to tell you, it's not such a wonderful life. Between all the backstabbing, treachery and wickedness I see at work, and the crap I have to deal with in my own life, I honestly feel like I am going to crack. Not that I let it show, though. I'm always the picture of confidence, wherever I go. A six-foot-three, lean and athletic, dark-skinned brother in a nice suit. I handle my business at work, I take care of my family and I also try to make it look easy. Just another day in the life of the Black male in North America.

My parents, Leonard and Sophia Etienne live in the City of Brockton, about half an hour from Boston. Dad is a corrections officer and mom is a nurse at Caritas Good Samaritan Hospital. I love my parents and I cannot thank them enough for what they've done for me. They moved to the State of Massachusetts from the island of Haiti in the summer of 1984. I was born a few years later, and although I'm an American citizen by birth and all, my heart and soul remained with the Haitian community. You see, Massachusetts is home to tons of Haitians and for the most part, we're hardline Christians, hard-working and law-abiding folks.

Growing up, I went to school, I went to the library and I went to church. That's it. No basketball, no rap music, and no hanging around with other Black guys whom my parents didn't know. My parents watched too many negative things about young Black men on television and swore that none of this would happen to me. I was kept indoors for my own protection, I guess. They were determined that I wouldn't end like so many other young Black men. How often do you read about young Black men in trouble with the law in your daily newspaper? Or you're pulling up to the mall and see a young brother in handcuffs being taken into a police car in the parking lot? Yeah, it's depressing. A lot of times, the brother is actually innocent. Just a case of mistaken identity. Often, though, a lot of dumb brothers go out there and do some dumb shit, pardon my French. They get in trouble and they make themselves and the whole community look bad. That's sad but true.

Black parents everywhere know this, and they often fear for the well-being of their sons in such a hostile world. Mine believed in protecting me from the worst of what's out there until I was strong enough to defend myself from it. There is a certain power that comes from being a Black man. The society around us fears us and hates us not because we're weak but because we are strong. Women of all races throw themselves at us because the Black man is strong, masculine and downright fearless. Yeah, women know it and men of other races know it. That's why the mere sight of a Black man is unsettling for many males of other races, especially white men. You wouldn't think that men from a group that gets everything handed to them would be so insecure, would you? Sad but true.

The arrival of a Black man at a mostly white gathering is comparable to that of a lion at a watering hole in the African savannah. Everyone stops and stares, and the insecure ones get nervous. All the lion wants to do is drink but all the other animals are afraid of him. All the Black man wants to do is live his life, do his thing, but all the other bigots and hypocrites around him are afraid of him. Not his fault they're so insecure. All he can do is be himself. Ah, the things that us brothers must endure in this society, eh?

You should see the way they look at me at work, man. I'm a tall Black man in a business suit, I've got more degrees than a thermometer and I am actually good at my job. You don't survive in corporate America if you're a lousy worker. I recently got promoted within the auditors division of Fidelity Investments. Think of the auditors as the internal police force of the company. We're the corporate sharks that other corporate sharks fear. I've got to tell you that I absolutely love my job simply because of this. I get paid to make other people nervous, and it's a lot of fun.

My biggest victory was against a certain bozo named Thomas Winston. He's old money, New England blue blood. Born and raised in affluent Milton, Massachusetts. The creep has an expense account the size of Montana, wastes company time fooling around with his Asian secretary, and has committed the most outrageous sin of all, he's allowed his issues with his soon-to-be-ex-wife Marilyn to render him unproductive. I pointed out how much money we were wasting by keeping him around, and eventually got him fired. Why did I do that? Because I could. Because it's my job. Because Thomas was lazy. But mostly because this old white buzzard had the nerve to call me "boy" when he hired me. Revenge is sweet, isn't it?

Yeah, life is alright. Don't think I'm all work and no play, though. I've been going out with not one but two ladies. The first is Beatrice Thompson, a tall, curvy and big-bottomed Jamaican-American sister I met during my final year at Northeastern University. Beatrice is afro-centric, politically aware and quite lively. Oh, and she can suck dick so damn good she will make you see stars. Once, I came all over her face while we were in the bathroom of her uncle's house. She invited me to a family barbecue and we had a private moment, I guess. Beatrice is foxy and kinky. I like that about her. The other female I'm dating is Kristin Dawkins, a tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed Irish-American attorney I met at a bar in the Back Bay. Kristin is smart and ambitious, she likes minority guys and makes no bones about it, and she looks good on my arm. A winning combination, wouldn't you say?

Here I am, at the height of my earning power as a young corporate exec, I am adored by my family and admired by my friends, I have not one but two beautiful ladies in my life, and I feel like the loneliest person in the world. I guess it's because, well, I lack something. I've looked for it in relationships with beautiful, educated women. I looked for it at work, where I found success. I looked for it at school, where I found direction. I looked for it at church, and other places. I never found it. I guess what I'm missing is something internal rather than external. Something only the soul can provide. Inner peace. May I someday find it, that's my fondest desire.