Rasa remembers: “The lack of city funds, insufficient health care, poor public transportation, and the distinct border between the haves and have nots. When he was growing up he only wanted to leave, not seeing opportunity for himself in the industrial neighborhoods of his home city, a sentiment also reflected in some of the answers in the book. Rasa doesn’t see Oakland (“Oakland is the next Oakland”) as the next Brooklyn – to him, it is more akin to cities such as Detroit, Baltimore, and Philadelphia. He knows the city well, living in North Oakland, East Oakland, and by Lake Merritt at different points in his childhood. Speaking with Rasa about growing up in Oakland, it is clear that he also has a complex relationship with the city. As Rasa observes, “It’s a simple way that they put things, but there’s a lot more going on.” The stories challenge one another, speak to one another, and build upon each other like layers. It does not present a simple and direct way of understanding Oakland, but takes the reader through all of the complexities of the lives of African American boys and young men who grow up and live here. The Griots of Oakland is a special book – so many stories, points of view, and insights contained in its pages. In our conversation, he thinks out loud about the meaning of community, local media sources, his evolving perception of the city and of himself, and youth growing up in Oakland today. We walk outside and into an indoor courtyard area next door we sit down for over an hour to talk. Brightly colored Emory Douglas Black Panther & revolutionary prints line the simple white walls, and a handful of customers sit scattered around, engaged in conversation. I spot The Griots of Oakland on the table looking well read. I walk to Rasa Caffe on a cloudy day, look around the small and cozy store as I wait to meet with Rasa Mott, the owner.
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