Ah, it’s that time again.  The leaves change, the days grow shorter, there’s a chill in the air, and all across America, up go the hoods.  That’s not to say that there weren’t more than a handful of die-hards out there during the summer, but for the most part, from, say, mid-May until mid-October, we have only had to endure the assault of falling-down britches from our young men of color.   Delightful. 

So it’s time for me to divulge a couple of my own prejudices: Hoodies and baggy pants make me crazy.  Here’s the way I look at it: If you dress like a hoodlum, people are going to think you are one.  I understand that that’s precisely the point, but I fail to see the glory in appearing to be fresh out of prison.

During the summer, in 90 degrees and humidity to match, all over Harlem young black men were wearing black sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up over baseball caps.  In the words of Cole Porter, “It’s too darn hot” for that nonsense.  Back in February, New York Times columnist Bob Herbert, lamenting the extraordinary amount of times that police stop African-American young men, pointed out that the officers often cite the kids' attire as being "inappropriate for the weather conditions."  Now that temperatures are cooling down, sweatshirts themselves are not so inappropriate, but does the hood have to be up even on sunny days?

Hey, I get all the stuff about civil liberties, and absolutely, the police stop too many young men of color for no reason other than the color of their skin, but seriously, how can they tell the baddies from the goodies if they’re all wearing hoodies? (Made that one up myself.)

A few months ago, the police stopped by our place to ask if we could look at the recordings from the security cameras to see if they had captured anything having to do with a rare mugging on our block.  Going back to the date and window of time that they gave me, I watched as group after group of hooded young men walked past.  Any of them could have snatched that poor lady’s purse, I thought, but wait, there’s a bunch of them running!  My guess is it was them, but who knows?  They had hoods on. 

Moving on to baggy pants, I’m truly offended by the rampant display of men’s underwear, and for the life of me, can’t understand why more people, especially the women who love them, aren’t.  I don’t want to see anyone’s undergarments – not when I’m walking down the street, not on the bus, and definitely not while I’m eating.  And don’t those boys look pathetic trying to walk and not have their pants fall down around their ankles?  It would be comical, if it weren’t so sad.  In a number of locales, politicians and city officials have launched “Bag the Sag” campaigns.  Good luck with that! What will it really take to get young men to pull up their pants?

They say that fashion trends are cyclical.  Since my daughter was born, I’ve been praying for the return of the preppy look of my youth.  Now that she’s almost a teenager, though, time is running out.  And then will surely begin a new chapter in diversity parenting.  Stay tuned.