Years ago, I was seated at a gate within the International Concourse at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia. I was minding my own business, finishing my lunch, when a middle-aged White gentleman and his wife sat next to me. I noticed that he was wearing a red Atlanta Falcons t-shirt. Eventually, I asked him if he was a Falcons football fan. With a smile and a laugh, he confirmed in his deep, Southern accent-tinged voice that he was. I then shared with him that I, too, was a lifelong (read: long suffering) Falcons fan. We shook hands and together began a rather pleasant conversation on a variety of subjects: ranging from music to culture to food to common courtesy. The gentleman’s wife didn’t say very much. She nodded her head a few times and, on occasion, flashed a sympathetic expression upon her kind face. Before too long, an airline employee at the desk for our gate announced that boarding for our flight had begun. As I was in first class, I stood up and threw my small duffel bag over my right shoulder. I turned and looked at the gentleman with whom I had been speaking. I told him my first name, shook his hand one last time, and stated it had been a pleasure to talk to him. He stood up and held onto my hand as he leaned in. I’ll never forget his parting words to me that day. That White gentleman said to me in a calm, matter-of-fact voice: “Arthur, good to meet you. Can I tell you something? Let me tell you something. If my buddies back home in Alabama saw us right now, they would be all kinds of confused because I cannot stand ng*rs. In fact, I hate them. If I had my way, they would all perish from God’s green earth. But having said that, I like you for some reason. You’re not like the others. You’re a credit to your race.” He released my hand. Then he said with a smile, “You have yourself a safe flight now, you hear?” I remember being too stunned to say anything more at that moment. As I turned to walk away, I saw his wife looking directly into my eyes with a slight smile of silent apology.

“You’re not like the others.”

How many times have you been told something like that? How many times has someone, somewhere treated you in such a manner? I suspect that the answer to those two questions would be more times than you could count – or more times than you care to remember.

Black is beautiful. Black is bold. Black is brilliant. Black excellence is the source of countless contributions to and for the culture, the fashion, the entertainment, the arts, the music, the language, the athletics, the academic prowess, the spirituality, the morality, and the expression this world wants and needs and appreciates so fully. As BIPOCs, we know we got soul. We know we got swag. We know we got style. And since Black excellence is so real and exists in such abundance that it cannot be debated or negotiated, why must it be like that? Why are we treated like dogs that must constantly chase cats? What do White folks do when they see you? What do White folks see when they look at me?

Dear reader, welcome to the paradox I personally refer to as the salt/sugar juxtaposition. My term is synonymous with the phrase minority myth model.

In the standard minority myth model, all non-White sub-sections of God’s people are relegated to a small, ultra-limited, racially stereotypical viewpoint of their worth based on an extremely prejudicial definition of areas where the non-White sub-sections of God’s people allegedly excel. The examples are all around us. According to the minority myth model, all Black people dance and are naturally excellent athletes with a supernatural hunger for fried chicken and watermelon. The same minority myth model holds that all Asian people are short and are naturally gifted at mathematics and cooking delicious food. If you believe that all Muslims are violent extremists who hate Christians and excel at building explosive devices, you’ve very likely been programmed to believe such things. The media (i.e., newspapers, podcasts, local/regional/national television news broadcasts, social media platforms, late-night talk show hosts, cable TV programming executives, etc.) has nearly unimaginable reach in terms of viewers. When we are all being bombarded by a steady diet of the standard minority on a constant basis, inevitably those false narratives based on old wives’ tales and other assorted nonsense are accepted as baseline truths. Whether the powers that be want to admit it or not, media-powered minority myth model narratives are then used to craft everything from legislation to entertainment to societal norms. What’s old becomes what’s new so that what’s new can then become what’s established, whether or not it’s true.

Take, for example, the reality stars who appear on the various “Real Housewives” TV shows on cable. Those shows are unusually diverse. The African American women who appear on those shows may be physically attractive, professionally successful, and/or fiscally responsible. Those traits are not the selling points of the “Real Housewives Of…” shows. The real selling point/takeaway of those shows is the drama: the vivid depiction of Black women in America as hypersexual, materialistic, morally dubious, loud, uncultured, jealous, insecure, untrustworthy vixens who have little concept of unity, friendship, or class. Consider this. The “Real Housewives” shows are telecast globally. This means that all over the world, there are lots of human beings who may or may not even speak English who legitimately believe that Black women – no matter how intelligent or beautiful or stylish – carry themselves exactly as the actors in those shows carry themselves. I’m no lawyer, but I hope that the Sistas cast in these shows are well-compensated for their participation because a case can easily be made that they are setting back by decades how Black women are seen and treated in courtrooms, classrooms, boardrooms, conference rooms, hospital rooms, fitting rooms, hotel rooms, and virtually any other rooms you can think of.

Here’s another example. If you watch any TV news telecast reporting on a crime that was allegedly committed by a Black man, you will quickly notice an extended preview of that man’s mugshot – usually enlarged for the screen. Occasionally, the graphics guru in the production truck may go as far as darkening the mugshot so that the accused individual looks that much more menacing. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve worked for a national cable news channel in the past. I’ve seen this done on numerous occasions in real time. These offenses are committed in plain sight by media outlets in faithful service to the standard minority myth model that African American men can be relied upon to be lazy, unintelligent, dangerous, unpredictable, and prone to criminal activity. At all given times – according to the media – a Black man is ready, willing, and able to take [1] your body, [2] your wallet/purse, [3] your vehicle, [4] your house, [5] your daughter, [6] your soul, [7] your life and/or all of these above. We must all live in the Marvel Cinematic Universe for real because every Black man is treated like Thanos – regardless of age, gender, gender orientation, socioeconomic status, educational background, occupation, national origin, faith tradition, social location, political affiliation, or degree of fame. For the three or four of you out there who have yet to watch the “Avengers” movies, Thanos is the villain; an existentially lethal bad guy.

That’s the vast and insidious power of the minority myth model. By merely deciding to be articulate, a Black man or woman is subject to be accused of “talking White” by other Black men and women. By merely dedicating himself or herself to excellence in their field, a Black man or woman is subject to being accused of “forgetting where they came from” by their own skinfolks.

It is all too easy for the majority (at least until the late 2030s or thereabout) to ignore the very best parts of Blackness – the sugar – and focus solely on the very worst parts of Blackness – the salt. That strategy has been in play for over 400 years now. There are entire cottage industries based on the premise of promoting the lies that Black lives don’t matter, Black history doesn’t exist, and that Black grievance is without merit. Right now, we have a candidate for president who happens to be herself a woman of color who is being honey-roasted by people on the right and on the left for suggesting at a recent (televised) town hall that slavery was not the cause of the American Civil War. Predictably, she tried to say that the real reason for that conflict was, say it with me, states’ rights. Suddenly, this candidate and her campaign team find themselves in def-con 5 cleanup mode. That’s what brown can do for you.

Meanwhile, minority myth modeling is so pervasive, that some Black people devolve to the point of hating themselves. They hate their own God-given Blackness. They hate Black culture. They hate their own people. Somewhere along the journey, such people stop seeing our sugar – all those magnificent traits and cultural quirks that combine to make BIPOCs so cool, so revered, and so emulated – and begin seeing salt – all the racially charged stereotypes and societal misappropriations created for the purpose of demonizing us so we stay in what they think our place is.

An almost hilariously inconvenient truth is this: African American people in general – and African American women in particular – are the true foundation for American democracy. In election cycle after election cycle, that fact has been proven to be the case. That’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If and when African American women individually and collectively stop believing that somehow, someway, someday the United States of America will finally fulfill the promises supposedly enshrined in the Constitution; if and when African American women no longer believe that the so-called American dream is even theoretically possible; if and when African American women give up the ghost by no longer supporting the Democratic Party financially, logistically, mentally, physically, and emotionally; then this two hundred-plus year experiment in governance will come to a screeching halt. Democracy would end and be replaced with an abomination consisting of an unholy fusion of kleptocracy, theocracy, totalitarianism, fascism, nepotism, and whataboutism. We are far closer to that hellscape today than any of us care to believe or want to believe.

As I close, it’s only right that the ultimate irony of standardizing the minority myth model be clearly stated for all to see. In a karmic twist for the ages, the historically oppressed African American people stand revealed as the stopgap measure – the last line of defense – for the continuation of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in the United States of America; and for all the individuals, groups, institutions, systems, educational hierarchies, corporations, societal norms, socioeconomic levels, infrastructures, exclusionary enclaves therein. That includes the members of those groups who refuse to acknowledge the humanity of BIPOCs.

“You’re not like the others.”

As it turns out, that White man I encountered at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport all those years ago was very right; just not in the ways he thought or intended. African Americans are most certainly not like the others. We are so much more than those who despise us think; and so much more than even we acknowledge most of the time.

If not for the steadfast and unwavering patriotism of African Americans, no one in this nation would have the time to examine or discuss the salt/sugar juxtaposition. Because each and every one of us would be up to our eyeballs in s**t.