When I was living in one of the poorest counties in North Carolina, people weren’t left with many options in terms of income. And since legitimate work is boring to talk about, let’s talk about crack.

If you ever find yourself in Littleton, North Carolina, take a turn off the main road and make your way to “the village.” My home there was on South Square Drive, in my aunt’s house while my mom studied at North Carolina State University. Entering the village, you’ll see a two-story house (if you can call it that) on your left – dilapidated, ransacked, boarded up, and filled to the brim with druggies. The mythical crackhouse.

My uncle Doug spent a lot of time there, and in the streets in general. Once a respected handyman, he fell from glory as crack and alcohol rendered him almost unrecognizably handicapped. The deadly combination of addictions left him barely able to walk or talk, and even less able to use any cognitive skills, yet he remained alive.

On April 17, 1986, the Reagan administration released a three-page report admitting that there were some Contra-cocaine connections in 1984 and 1985. If you’re unfamiliar with the Iran-Contra Affair, it began when Reagan’s administration gave weapons to Iran in an attempt to gain the release of hostages held in Lebanon by Hezbollah terrorists under Iran’s leader, Ayatollah Khomeini. The U.S. used millions of dollars from the weapons sale to fund the right-wing Contra guerrilla forces in Nicaragua. The Kerry Committee report in 1989 concluded, “it is clear that individuals who provided support for the Contras were involved in drug trafficking … and elements of the Contras themselves knowingly received financial and material assistance from drug traffickers.” So, by funding the Contras, the U.S. government was also funding the cocaine epidemic of the ’80s.

With an increase in cocaine on the streets, crack became more popular, and from 1984 to ’94, the homicide rate for young black males doubled. Additionally, there was an increase in fetal death rates and weapons arrests, and approximately 50 percent of incarcerations involved drug charges. These are facts. An entire population of Uncle Dougs was created during this era, and they live on, wandering our streets, supporting our drug dealers, and residing in cocaine-fortified crackhouses.

One thing I will always appreciate, though, is the culture of “the projects.” I hesitate to call it the ghetto, since the word has been ruined by internalized oppression and cultural appropriation, but for lack of a better or more universal word, ghetto will suffice. What some people see in poor black communities as being undesirable and borderline abomination, I see as beautiful and necessary. Gold teeth and flashy jewelry gleaming on necks and wrists. Slang and syllable-dropping dialects spoken by kids and parents alike, educated and uneducated. Sagging pants and streetwear like Roc-a-wear, FUBU, Sean John, Akademiks, and retro Jordan sneakers. Kids playing basketball in the street, hopscotch on the sidewalk, and tag on the playgrounds. The music – hard-hitting, bass-filled beats with chanting choruses and acerbic lyrics. When we look at this microcosm of black culture, there’s an important conclusion to reach.

One thing that bothers me the most when I analyze the black community and our unity is that, for whatever reason, a lot of black people who start off struggling and become successful, or move into a different chapter of their lives, sometimes feel the need to distance themselves from all things “ghetto.” The reason why some black people assert that successful and/or highly educated black people “act white” is because they abandon their background or deny it.

We need to be unapologetically black and never ashamed of who we are and where we come from. The social stigmas against our slang, our music, our fashion, and our culture carry no weight if we do not allow them to be poisonous. “Talking white” is what they assert when rich/educated black people abandon black slang and the dialect of their hometown. “Acting white” is what they assert when you no longer dress a certain way or you no longer enjoy the same music or you no longer participate in black events. To a degree, these assertions have some validity. It can be hard to decipher whether or not people have simply grown out of old habits or if they are renouncing their background or, even in extremes, renouncing their blackness.

Honesty is the solution here. We must never be ashamed of who we are, and we must always be honest with ourselves when it comes to our intentions and rationale. We must never be afraid to be black and embrace black culture. To be black is to be bold, brave, and beautiful.