[Editor’s note: Caleb Wilson, 20, was a junior at Southern University majoring in mechanical engineering, who recently died after allegedly taking part in an off-campus, unsanctioned fraternity ritual.]
My dear brother Caleb:
I call you my brother not to be glib, backhanded or even disrespectful. The irony and audacity of a man like me, situated and belonging to the same fraternal organization to which you were heading, is not lost on me.
I call you brother because we are both sun-kissed and both belong to the Diaspora—the same secret, sacred society that God Creator saw fit to allow humanity and Truth to reside with and flow through.
When it came to you and your story, my first inclination was to bend toward silence and restraint. Your family, your friends, your loved ones, your spirit and legacy are entitled to a measure of deference and respect.
You and your loved ones certainly do not need endless think pieces written for attention and engagement about your life, about hazing or Divine Nine organizations, generally.
However, after reading just a fraction of the pieces, articles and social media posts about you that use your life as a vehicle to settle some scores with Black Greek-lettered organizations, or even gloss over responsibility and accountability for your end, my second thought was to break my silence. So, here I am now.
I struggled with what to say to you in this moment. Right now. I want to tell you like Brother Langston that because of your story, my soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I want to tell you like Brother Bayard that the injustice that occurred to you should never be tolerated. I want to tell you like Brother Sterling A. Brown, you are among a collective of strong, strong men who conjured community from air thick with oppression. I want to tell you that you are worthy.
But, all of those words are inadequate. In fact, all words are inadequate in this moment. The truth is your life was stolen from you. It was kidnapped from a warehouse and taken—drug across social media, through campus plots and quads, to its final resting place in a corner of the universe where deferred dreams and urban legends huddle.
The fact is your death was preventable. Certainly, it was perhaps preventable in the conventional sense. Someone on campus could have intervened and literally stopped the tragic march toward your fate.
However, contrary to what some folks are saying currently, your death was not solely caused by a few out-of-control individuals on campus. It was not caused by the fraternity that we love. There are many layers of safeguards designed to prevent precisely what happened to you. Your death was not caused by a group of Black-Greek organizations, either.
But, I believe your death was preventable from a community perspective—our society’s notion of manhood created the environment for you to be taken from us.
We believe that displays of physical violence and bravado can make men good, or make good men better. But, that’s not manhood or how good men are made. It’s not how manhood works.
Society has tried to force this idea of toxic masculinity, which is a false and more so, a dangerous ideal, that has no bearing on the values of fraternity or those who themselves as men.
bell hooks says what we intimately know about manhood—it is created in the crucible of love, restraint and compassion. It comes from protecting the humanity of women and being on the side of the oppressed. It comes from following the teachings of Jesus and from doing much to end pain and suffering in this world.
This fraternity we love dearly values manhood a great deal. It is a cardinal principle of the organization and a touchstone for all of our interactions with humanity. The culture of the organization understands that manhood means all of these things.
I am sorry and apologize that that message of manhood did not make it to those who interacted with you.
Those responsible for your death have an appointment with justice.
Truthfully,
David
