This piece comes from the good folks over at BlackProf.com, who published this yesterday

Barry Bonds, Cynthia McKinney, and the Unnamed Duke Lacrosse Team Rape Victim

by Katheryn Russell-BrownThe Black community is fiercely protective of its high-profile, celebrity members. We’re suspicious of allegations made against them.  We’re particularly likely to close ranks and defend famous Black men who find themselves in trouble with the law.  Just to name a few, there’s O.J., Clarence Thomas, Marion Barry, Mike Tyson, R. Kelly, Kobe Bryant, and Michael Jackson.

This practice, which I label “Black protectionism,” is historically-rooted and justified by a criminal justice system that has, from its inception, put Black men in its bulls-eye.

Here’s the thing, though—while the existence and persistence of Black protectionism make sense, there are some aspects of it that cause concern.  How and when does “protecting our own” move us forward as a community?  In a nutshell, can Black protectionism be applied in way that’s transformative?  And what about Black women?  They’re much less likely to receive the same love from the community as Black men: Lani Guinier, Carol Moseley-Braun, Joycelyn Elders, to name a few.  Also, why limit our protective cloak to famous Blacks?  What about everyday Black men and women?  And what about crime victims—shouldn’t they get the community’s vocal support and embrace too?

Three recent cases highlight the continuing viability of Black protectionism.  It appears that Blacks are comfortable rallying behind Barry Bonds, who is now at the center of a media storm about steroid use (incidentally Bonds denies using them and he has never tested positive).  But shouldn’t protectionism also be used to support victims of sexual assault—regardless of whether they’re exotic dancers or beauty contestants?  What about Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney who says that she was “inappropriately” touched by a Capitol police officer? It will be interesting to see whether she receives a racial cloak of support.