“No CAP”: Reflections on the Intersectionality, Positionality and the Experiences of Navigating Race as a Black Male Criminologist

Published date01 July 2021
DOI10.1177/21533687211011211
AuthorJoseph Richardson
Date01 July 2021
Subject MatterArticles
Article
“No CAP”: Reflections on the
Intersectionality, Positionality
and the Experiences of
Navigating Race as a Black
Male Criminologist
Joseph Richardson
1
Abstract
The arrest of respected Black professor and scholar Henry Louis Gates, Jr., by the
Cambridge Police Department in 2009 for allegedly breaking into his own home
proverbially “set the table” for this discussion. Following his arrest, Gates noted:
“There are one million black men in jail in this country and last Thursday I was one of
them. This is outrageous and this is how poor black men across the country are
treated every day in the criminal justice system. It’s one thing to write about it, but
altogether another to experience it.” Regardless of social class or occupational
prestige, Black professors at predominately White institutions are subjected to hyper-
surveillance and racially bias policing in public spaces on campus. Using inter-
sectionality and positionality as conceptual frameworks, this paper describes the lived
experiences of a Black professor and criminologist at a predominately White insti-
tution and his encounters with the university’s police department and the carceral
state. Using Armour’s (2020) N*gga Theory, which is framed by Critical Race Theory,
I analyze the relationship between race, class, unequal justice, and the politics of
respectability. I use Armour’s N*gga Theory (2020) to show solidarity between those
vilified as a “crime prone” Black underclass, and the less “crime prone” Black bour-
geoisie. Although, the Black bourgeoisie in the academy may embrace the politics of
respectability, according to N*gga Theory there is no moral or political distinction
between the those considered good Negroes and those considered bad.
Keywords
Black Americans, intersectionality, positionality, policing, higher education
1
University of Maryland, Maryland, MD, USA
Corresponding Author:
Joseph Richardson, University of Maryland, 1137 Taliaferro Hall, College Park, Maryland, MD 20742, USA.
Email: jrichar5@umd.edu
Race and Justice
2021, Vol. 11(3) 260–275
ªThe Author(s) 2021
Article reuse guidelines:
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DOI: 10.1177/21533687211011211
journals.sagepub.com/home/raj
The expression no cap is slang meaning “no lie” or “for real,” often used to emphasize
someone is not exaggerating about something hard to believe.
Urban Dictionary
The Irony of a Lack of Diversity Among Those Who Study
Crime
Trained as a criminologist, I have navigated the racial barriers of the academy since
I was a doctoral student in the School of Criminal Justice at Rutgers University in the
late 1990s and early 2000s. As the only Black male student during my doctoral
candidacy, and the third Black man to receive a doctorate from the criminology and
criminal justice program (in May of 2003), 3 decades after the program first opened
its doors in 1972, I am intimately aware of the challenges Black criminologists face
in predominately White institutions. The doctoral experience of navigating race is
even more pronounced in the discipline of criminology where every course, dis-
cussion, theory, and question regarding criminality and criminal justice policy is
directly or indirectly tied to the intersection of race, gender, age and class. To be a
young Black man in one of the nation’s premier criminology programs in the 90s a nd
early 2000s at the height of the war on drugs, which was essentially a w ar on Black
America (especially in Newark, NJ, a predominately poor Black and Brown city that
never recovered from the racial justice uprisings of the ‘60s and ‘70s), was partic-
ularly challenging.
Because race and crime in criminology and criminal justice programs is so
thematic, there should be diverse representation in the faculty and student body.
However, during my doctoral candidacy there were no tenure track or tenured Black
professors in my program. Yet, less than a mile from our campus, poor Black and
Brown people were being rounded up every day in distressed neighborhoods in
Newark. They were victims of structural and state sanctioned violence placed in the
oppressive grinding machinery of the carceral apparatus.
I know the Black experience in Newark quite intimately because one of my close
college friends lived in the Hawthorne public housing projects in Newark. I spent
many weekends with him in those projects, a 15-min drive from my campus but a
world away. The perverse irony is my courses stereotyped people who lived in places
like Hawthorne, blaming them for their condition, describing their proclivity to
criminality using theories such as strain and social control. During my time in
Hawthorne those theories never seemed to apply to the people I knew. My friend
graduated with a degree in Architecture from the University of Virginia and worked at
a construction firm. He remained in the projects so he could take care of his aging
mother who still resided in his childhood home. Despite the concentrated poverty in
Hawthorne, he was not a criminal. Neither was his brother who was a nuclear engi-
neer. Nor did most of his friends who still lived there fit the narratives of theories I had
learned. Where were the criminological theories that described their lives?
Richardson 261

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