Our freedom of speech is freedom of death
We got to fight the powers that bePublic Enemy
This year, 2020 is the year of perfect vision. I have worked diligently for the past three years to make sure I am seen. Adjusting the phoropter ever so slightly with every strategic move. Does it look better at one or two? Three or four? Trying to bring into focus all the connections necessary to make sure my people, my community, and my city get what they need.
As I continue to find my voice, these days my vision is often blurry on a daily basis from trying to fight back tears. I have always been the calm, cool, and collected one, but now my hands shake with newly resurfaced anxiety. Anxiety that I didn’t know I had, but recognized the feeling. I wake up in a cold sweat night after night, feeling more and more disillusioned as I get up and do my job. It is as if nothing I say or do matters, and my efforts continue to be minimized or swept aside. I feel more like I am shuckin’ and jivin’ as though it is what I’ve been trained to do. The reality is, that thanks to basketball, I have been trained to perform. I have been trained to execute. You are not supposed to see my weakness. So, you don’t. Writing and exposing myself is hard. I’m still scared.
As a college student, I lacked ambition and discipline and truthfully didn’t do what was necessary for success. Much of it was driven by my anxiety which led to a lack of focus that ultimately cost me my scholarship. I was called into the office and told I had a choice. At 21, I had to choose to play basketball for one more year under scholarship and not get renewed for my senior year, or I could just “do school” for one more year. Keep in mind, I had been training with these guys for years and Steve Nash had just arrived. Despite having the best off-season, I had ever had and playing pre-season with the best point guard I had ever had the honor of being on the court with, I chose to hand in my shoes and abandon the team. I’m still haunted.
Sure with a little refocusing, I still got the opportunity to play overseas, but since that decision, I have lived with the feeling that I let my team down. Over the years, I have tried to connect with my former teammates to apologize. Because of the regret from my personal college experience, I have focused my professional career on making sure I don’t let anyone down. I hope this explains my drive, and why I don’t live in the feelings’ space. For me it is all about service, strategy, and execution. I’m still blessed.
That said, anybody who knows me knows I don’t really check on anybody, rather I move through life focused on making sure business gets done. When each day is done, I return to the introverted man I am. The COVID-19 pandemic combined with the complete feeling of despair that things haven’t really changed for black people in this country has brought me to the point where I have been checking in with people. This has made me wonder, is it wrong to expect your bosses to check in on you? At first, when they don’t, you don’t really notice, believing it is an oversight but then when the cautious check-ins start trickling in from friends and acquaintances…you begin to wonder why the bosses still haven’t checked in. Have they ever checked-in? Are personal struggles off-limits? Are they embarrassed, unsure of what to say? Are we strictly on a make-sure- business-gets-done basis, the way I used to be? Maybe it’s up to me to start the conversation and check-in with them? I’m not sure what to expect. I’m confused.
In spite of it all, I have lived an amazing life. Basketball helped me deal with a lot over the years, even though I didn’t know it at the time, but not this. When I moved to the states, I learned how to be a black teenager by watching the Cosby Show. I began learning about the struggles of my people by listening to Grandmaster Flash, Public Enemy, Ice-T, NWA, the Geto Boys, and KRS-One. The ire of my community started to make sense when I saw the struggle for the first time as I watched the Rodney King beating in ’92. Just after, as a DJ at KSCU, I covered live on air the protests that erupted in the streets around San Jose State. It was all new to me. I’ve been like a sponge but still never “felt.” I’m still learning.
Fast forward to today. I have dedicated myself to doing what I do to ensure my kids and kids who look them will be afforded all the opportunities those who came before have fought for over for many years. I understand I have not felt connected to the struggle, but this is different. As I strain to find my voice, I wonder why it is so hard. Is it because I don’t fit with the status quo? Am I still not seen as black? After three years of accomplishments and trying to prove my value, why are my ideas tossed aside? Some have hypothesized it is because I am black. I usually try not to subscribe to that line of thinking, but the pandemic has me wondering … is it really? Should I be considered a black leader? How do I graduate to that level? Have I not taken the step into leadership because of something in me? Am I not ready to accept that responsibility? Sadly, I still do not know.
As I continue to find my voice, let me reintroduce myself. My name is Louis Joseph Stewart. I am a father of three wonderful young adults. I am a son of Michael (the first black recruit to play basketball at Santa Clara University) and Carolyn (who was a talented violinist and whose heart held the family together). I am a brother to Michael Jr. (who was talented enough to walk on to the Kings and make the rookie all-star team) and Samantha (who’s smile could light up a room with the personality to match). I am the first Chief Innovation Officer of the City of Sacramento. Online I’m known as MeetMrStewart. My friends call me Sweet Lou, Big Lou or just Louis. I haven’t led the stereotypical American “black life” and for that I don’t apologize. It has made me who I am…I am a black man…I am a man.
Most importantly, I am learning to push for systemic change. Will you join me on the journey? The time is now.
