Letters to a Young Brother: MANifest Your Destiny

Introduction

A number of years ago, someone gave me a copy of Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. He told me it would change my life and he was right. In it, Rilke responds to the questions of a young man who writes to him asking for advice. The inspirational messages for any young artist—or young person—are clear throughout the book. To this day I often reread many of its pages and have given the book as a gift countless times. The title, Letters to a Young Poet, as well as my experiences speaking with thousands of young people over the past few years, inspired me to write this book. In the way Rilke served as a mentor to the young poet who wrote to him, I hope to be a mentor to all of the young men I’ve been meeting and speaking to. In this book I hope to address many of the questions they’ve been asking me.

Letters to a Young Brother is a book I hope will inspire young men and affect positive change in their lives. So many young men today are lost. They want to be inspired, motivated, and guided—they are almost crying out for it—but often feel that they have nowhere to turn, no one who truly understands their world. Those who love them (parents, uncles/aunts, and family friends) often have trouble communicating with this video game and music-video generation. So every time I have the opportunity to address young audiences—more than ten thousand middle school, high school, and college students over the past two years—I’ve gotten pleas from students, parents, and teachers alike for alternative ideas and goals to playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and wearing platinum Rolexes.

Young men today have been bombarded with images of wealth and success that tell them that buying the hottest car or the most bling-blingin’ jewelry is what they should be motivated by. There is an overwhelming sales pitch targeted at these young men that subliminally suggests that material goods are the extent of their birthright and are what make them become real men. I want young men to have knowledge of the things that bring them true empowerment: education, a strong sense of purpose, compassion, confidence, and humility, to name a few. Sadly, however, many young men are stuck in a system where they feel they can’t get ahead. It is imperative to me that young men become aware of their options. Unfortunately, it isn’t always easy for them to speak openly with their family, friends, and those around them. That’s where I come in.

Looking back, I am so grateful for the individuals who contributed to my maturation into manhood. They were people who taught me through word and deed that the world offers all of us a myriad of equally difficult and wonderful choices. My teachers, coaches, parents, and grandparents insisted I could achieve anything I wanted. They taught me that my life was important and that I should not waste it living below my potential.

My grandfather on my mother’s side, Harold E. Hill, was from Charleston, South Carolina. All of his grandchildren called him Pop. He had thick glasses and a deep scratchy voice that sounded much like the late great actor Adolph Caesar. Pop educated himself during the 1920s and became a pharmacist. In 1936, he moved to Seneca, South Carolina, and opened Piedmont Pharmacy. It was the only pharmacy for miles where black people could fill their prescriptions and be treated equally. To his customers he was simply Doc. As a boy, I remember sitting at the marble soda fountain in the pharmacy reading comic books, licking Popsicles, and watching him fill prescriptions one by one. He treated every person who walked through the door with love and respect, whether they could afford to pay for their medicine or not. When it was time to go home he would always say, You want another Popsicle, boy? Go on. Grab one out of the cooler. He was a man of few words but infinite dignity.

My grandfather on my father’s side was Harry D. Harper, Sr. All of his grandchildren called him Father. He was the seventh of nine children; four boys, five girls. His dad worked for the public utility in Fort Madison, Iowa, and desperately wanted his children to get a higher education. All of them did that, and more. Since they couldn’t afford to go at the same time, each sibling attended college in sequence. After one graduated, he or she would pay for the next sibling to attend college. Miraculously, during Jim Crow segregation, one by one, all four boys became doctors. My grandfather became a family practitioner and returned to his Iowa hometown. In the 1920s, Father set up a practice in a small shack near the railroad tracks in Fort Madison. The white-owned banks refused to allow him to open a savings account, so he literally had to keep the money he earned under his mattress. In 1928, when the stock market crashed, banks froze assets; people were fearful and needed money. Because of the banks’ racism, my grandfather had access to his money. He reached under his mattress and, along with his brothers, purchased an apartment building that nearly spanned an entire city block in downtown Fort Madison. My grandfather and his brothers converted that building into a state-of-the-art medical clinic and lab with residential apartments above. For a number of years it became the number-one private medical practice in the state of Iowa. And for nearly forty years, until the end of Jim Crow, African-American women from four states would come and give birth in a safe, clean facility built for them and their families.

I saw both my grandfathers give of their expertise, oftentimes for free, or by trading medical services and goods for a turkey or crops when a patient had no money. Hero and legacy are two words that are often overused, but in the case of my grandfathers they could not be more appropriate. I couldn’t be more proud that I am named after both of these great men. Through my memory of them I am reminded daily of the beautiful responsibility that being both a Hill and a Harper carries. I hope that as they look down on my life today, I have in some way made them proud. I cannot begin to imagine the difficulty my grandfathers faced almost eighty years ago. Whenever I feel I cannot accomplish something I remind myself, If Pop (Doc Hill) and Father (Doc Harper) could make it happen, then Hill Harper can too.

The principle positive messages I received growing up were the examples my grandfathers offered me. Both of these strong men were passionate about their families and their work. They rose every day looking forward to what they were giving to the world. Each of my grandfathers taught me that there was value in contributing to my community. I grew up knowing that my grandfathers’ jobs were equal in value because they each spent their lives in service to others.

Today, many young men lack strong male role models in their everyday lives. I hope that through the exchange of these letters I can be to young men what my grandfathers in their infinite wisdom were and continue to be to me.

Effective mentoring doesn’t end with our blood relatives. For instance, a man who was not my blood relative, my uncle Russell who lived in Virginia, would call me every other month with his gruff voice asking, You handlin’ your business boy? Which means, are you living up to your full potential in all the areas of your life in which you choose to participate? Obviously, when I was young that area was school, and his next question was always, What are your grades? I knew there had better not be one C on that report card and certainly no D or F grades. Uncle Russell did not even find Bs acceptable. He expected me to get all As and instilled in me an expectation of excellence, as if it was preordained that I would earn straight As. I believe that my desire not to let him down, as well as the confidence he gave me, contributed to me being an A student. The people in my life like Uncle Russell believed in me and in my ability to achieve success in any area of my life. It was as if their belief in me became the energy carrying me toward my destiny; whatever that destiny was to be. Whenever a relative, teacher, or mentor took that time to listen to me and educate me, they became one more person I could not bear to disappoint. Having people to believe in me, to mentor me, has been key in my development from boyhood to manhood.

I’ve learned that the trajectory of a young man’s life results from many social and cultural forces. One of the most important of these is the adult men in his life. My grandfathers achieved prominence in their careers at a time when it was nearly impossible for black men to succeed. They set the bar extremely high for me, and at the same time awakened me to great possibilities for my future. It is no coincidence that both my mother and father became doctors just as it is no accident that I graduated from Brown University magna cum laude and received graduate degrees with honors from Harvard Law School and the John F. Kennedy School of Government. By going to college and graduate school, a whole new world was opened to me. My education gave me confidence and patience. If something wasn’t going down the right track in my life, I had options because I could right myself and get back on track another way.

My family taught me that doing my best, educating myself, and being in service to others were not optional and that having values and being truthful were not negotiable. Through the letters in this book, I wish to pass on to other young men my grandfathers’ legacies of education, hard work, determination, and success. I am living proof that these principles work. It is my hope that these letters will inspire other young men to live out their dreams. We are all completely unique manifestations of the human species, and the wonder of that gift provides all of us with an opportunity to reveal new and different ways to represent our fullest potential.

The Young Brotha in these letters is a compilation of hundreds of young men I’ve met over the past five years. His questions to me are all questions I have been asked numerous times by young men through letters, e-mails, and in person. It is with honor and gratitude that I am able to share these letters with numerous other young men who have their entire futures ahead of them and deserve the same guidance, support, and encouragement I received when I was their age.

Part One

You, Your Friends and Family: Building a Solid Foundation

Letter 1.

Young Brotha: The Newest Perfect Model

…I’m not cocky, I’m confident So when you tell me I’m the best it’s a compliment.

JADAKISS

NEW YORK

April 9, 2005

Los Angeles

Dear Young Brotha,

What’s up man? So I got your letter. And as much as I hate to admit this, you are right. I probably would not have written you back. At least not so soon. I often fall into the trap of thinking I’m so crazy busy that I can unknowingly get bogged down with the daily business of life.

But, something in your letter, your vibe, your tone, caused me to stop and pay attention. It troubled me that at such an early age you already expect the worst from people. More than that, you remind me of myself at your age. Just like you, I had gotten used to people letting me down. At times, it even made it hard for me not to give up on myself. Your letter hit home with me, man. It forced me to remember what it was like to be a young man in need of things I couldn’t always put into words. I know what it’s like to be confronted with multiple roads you could choose to walk down; some positive, some negative. So, yeah, I’m doing what you said I wouldn’t do. I’m writing you back, and there’s so much I want to share with you.

First, I want to tell you something. You are the perfect product of 15 billion years of evolution. That means you are the latest and greatest model of the human species. I respect that, and you should too.

You know how cars come out each year and they make an upgraded improved model? You know how they make it look better, go faster, upgrade the engine, upgrade the sound system? Your grandfather’s Cadillac went 0–60 in 8.2 seconds. The Caddys today go 0–60 in five seconds. His car had lap