fountain
John W. Fountain biography
A native son of Chicago’s West Side, John W. Fountain is an award-winning journalist, professor, and author of the memoir True Vine: A Young Black …Read More
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A second chance, a life transformed
Unbroken. One bullet to the head. Another to the neck that severed an artery. One in the shoulder. And yet, Stephanie Powe was unbroken — not a single bone fractured. A glass eye, a bullet still lodged in her neck and partial paralysis. Yet, she …Read More
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Racism: the drunk we try to ignore
From a reader: “I read your articles. . . . If u keep writing about racism, it will never go away. I view many of ur writings as u being a racist. We just don’t talk tho bout black racists!!” Shhhh. . . . Close …Read More
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I’m voting for best man for the job, not ‘voting black’
In my best Bernie Mac voice, I’m voting again for Barack Obama, “’cause he ain’t heavy, America, he’s my brother.” A homeboy from Chi-Town with presidential swag. My soul brother by another mother. He just might end up strutting his stuff all the way back …Read More
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Even President Obama gets ‘angry black man’ label
I am an ABM. No, not an anti-ballistic missile. An “Angry Black Man.” Or so some have called me. I am a native son, born brown-skinned in Bigger Thomas’ town. How often I have stared into the psychological looking glass that has led too many …
Pleasing God by helping people
On an inconspicuous corner of thirsting souls one cold autumn afternoon in Harlem, I saw the hands of God. I also saw them here in Chicago, at a makeshift market on the West Side, at a place known as Breakthrough, where the poor and needy …
Teaching isn’t a popularity contest
I stood in front of my students at Roosevelt University this week, clutching an envelope and asking for a student volunteer before making my exit so they could grade me as their professor without fear of retribution. I carefully read the teacher instructions, urging my …
Words from father to daughter
Today’s column is composed of words written to my daughter, now 16. Perhaps in them are lessons, love and lifting for all daughters. The occasion: The giving of a purity ring Today I give you this gift. A symbol of my love as your father. …
Words of hope inspire others
It was a letter from a young brother. A reminder of my life on the other side of the tracks. Of those left behind, of the need still for hope there and of the possibilities that can loom on the other side of midnight, if …
Make hog heaven a safer place
Two months, umpteen buckets of sunshine, and nearly 2,000 miles on my Harley, I am still cruising along in hog heaven. All geared up and rolling across the interstates, over green country roads, bugs splatting on my windshield, jeans flapping in the wind and the …
Hip-hop morphed, became perverted
Way black when, before hip-hop became religion, grandmothers were grandmothers and everybody went to church on Sunday mornings. Like Stevie Wonder: I wish those days could come back once more . . . The smell of pot roast wafted through the house. Streets outside were …
The walk that talked: When cool went cold
Back in the day, I was never completely dressed until I had climbed into my “pimp walk.” The transformation usually took place on special occasions like Easter and Christmas. When I got all decked out it, I would strut out of the bathroom, feeling like …
Not one of ‘them,’ but one of us
Another dead body. Just another one of “them.” Not one of “us.” It’s “those” people. Over there. Not here. Not in my — our — own neighborhood. Twenty more shot in a weekend. Or was it 30? Or 40? Who cares? That wasn’t somebody’s son …
When deck of cards could be salvation
On warm summer nights, when the sound of blues music and card slapping filled our West Side apartment until nearly dawn, the game of bid whist was religion. Even if the “saints” at church thought playing cards was the devil’s business, it didn’t matter much …
Knocks, kudos for my views on Gabby’s hairdo
It was a simple note in response to last week’s column: “A poem about Gabby Douglas’ hair . . . Please watch, listen and share with the world!” I clicked the YouTube link and stood mesmerized as a coffee-bean-brown young woman, her hair pulled back, …
Why are African-American women criticizing Gabby Douglas’ hair?
If I were Gabby’s daddy, I’d tell her, “You are beautiful just the way you are — whether your hair is in gel and bobby pins, whether thick or thin, or fashioned in woolen locks, or trimmed in a short natural, or even in two …
Escape from the West Side leaves bittersweet memories
‘Make a better life for yourself.” “Buy a house in the suburbs.” “Whatever you do, you can’t stay here!” This is what they told me growing up on the West Side — the unequivocal message from relatives, teachers and most adults I knew with a …
We are not our titles and jobs
Once, while interviewing for a job at The New York Times, an editor remarked, “If you come here, John, I hope that what happens to some who come here doesn’t happen to you.” “What’s that?” I asked, puzzled. “They get a new last name.” “What’s …
Get a load of my perfect toes
At 51, I was still just a virgin. A man. Looking for my first pedi. It was my secret mission on Wednesday morning, one I dared not let the guys at “the roundtable”— my morning coffee drinking crew — in on. Securing my Harley, and …
Dear first lady, children need you
‘Like so many Americans all across the country, Barack and I were shocked and heartbroken by the horrific act of violence committed in Arizona this past weekend. . . . As parents, an event like this hits home especially hard. . . . And it …
Why can’t we stop the killing?
“In the midst of all these challenges, however, my single most important responsibility as President is to keep the American people safe. It’s the first thing that I think about when I wake up in the morning. It’s the last thing that I think about …
