Like millions of others, I’m still deeply moved by the wonderfully rich memorial service for Michael Jackson. But I can’t help but wonder whether Sheila Jackson Lee, D-Texas, is doing Michael Jackson, her constituents or black folks a favor when she promises to bring to the floor what will be a controversial resolution deeming Jackson a “national legend … music icon” and “international humanitarian.”

Certainly, Michael was all of that. But he was also a highly controversial figure in the last 20 years of his life. He was embroiled in an ugly trial in which he was charged with child molestation. Jackson was acquitted of those charges, but his increasingly unsteady behavior and horrific appearance, along with his now-apparent addiction to various prescription drugs, left his reputation deeply scarred. As is so often and sadly the case, it was only Jackson’s death that resuscitated the public’s appreciation of his enormous talent and humanitarian efforts.

But the attempt to pass this resolution, which no doubt will be resisted by Rep. Peter King, R-N.Y., who recently derided Jackson as a “pervert,” may do more harm than good. (Given reports of prodigious contributions by Jackson fans to a fund to stop King’s re-election—he may come to wish that he had refrained from trashing the King of Pop.) Although well-meaning, Jackson Lee’s resolution is likely to unleash a debate on the House floor that will only rehash the most troubling parts of Michael Jackson’s biography, banishing the enormous goodwill generated by Tuesday’s memorial service.

More importantly, don’t Rep. Jackson Lee and the Congressional Black Caucus (CBC) have a few other priorities right now? Recently, former U.S. representative Cynthia McKinney was taken into custody by Israeli military officials while she was on a humanitarian mission to provide aid to the ravaged Palestinian citizens in Gaza. Forcibly removed from an aid boat in international waters, McKinney, 1976 Nobel Peace Prize winner Mairead Corrigan-MaGuire and others on the boat were held in detention for days. The CBC made no comment, even when asked by reporters.

Discussions over the so-called “public option” in the president’s proposed health care initiative are raging throughout the media, with almost no attention focused on how the proposals currently under consideration are likely to affect African-American patients, doctors and hospitals serving African-American communities. Where is the CBC in the ongoing health care debate?

And another black community newspaper has folded. The Bay State Banner in Boston announced that it will suspend publication. The current financial crisis is closing newspapers all over the country, but the plight of black community newspapers has barely made a blip on the radar of those bemoaning the travails of the Boston Globe and the Baltimore Sun. But black newspapers are a critical source of information, education and analysis of critical issues affecting the black community. Are there legislative initiatives that can help save these critical resources?

Next week, confirmation hearings will begin for Judge Sonia Sotomayor to serve on the U.S. Supreme Court. There are no African Americans on the Senate Judiciary Committee—and only one African American in the Senate. (Heaven help us, it’s Roland Burris.) Given the fact that the Senate is virtually a whites-only club, the Congressional Black Caucus should press hard and publicly weigh in with their views on the first Hispanic judicial nominee—especially because much of the Republican strategy to resist her confirmation will focus on condemning Judge Sotomayor for her decision to uphold the effort by the city of New Haven to the promotion of blacks in the city’s fire department. Sen. John Cornyn, R-Texas, has taken to posting a “Daily Question for Judge Sotomayor” on his Web site, seeking to outline his plan of attack at next week’s confirmation hearings. It’s a clever organizing and educational tool for anti-Sotomayor folks in Texas. Wouldn’t it be nice if Texas Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee posted “Answers” or “Questions about the Daily Question” on her Web site, to take on her state’s senator and provide alternative account of Judge Sotomayor’s nomination?

I’m not interested in dictating the agenda for Rep. Jackson Lee, nor do I object to acknowledging and honoring Michael Jackson’s extraordinary accomplishments and contribution to the world of music, videos and human rights. But politicians, black politicians especially, do best when they keep their eyes on the prize. There’s plenty of time in the coming year to honor Michael Jackson with a congressional resolution. But Rep. Jackson Lee and the Congressional Black Caucus have more than enough on their plates this summer without hosting a distracting debate about the very complicated life of Michael Jackson.

Sherrilyn A. Ifill is a regular contributor to The Root.

The Hurt Locker is not a great war film. It doesn’t glorify combat or condemn battle. It does not try to explain why conflict exists. It does not salute the dead or mourn their deaths.

It’s an explosive and honest rendering of what happens in war zones. The film, directed by Kathryn Bigelow, focuses on the experiences of a group of U.S. soldiers in Iraq. In the prologue, New York Times reporter Chris Hedges says, “… war is a drug.”

Then we meet the addicts—two casual users and a junkie. But sitting there, screening it in the dark with three friends and a room full of strangers, I suddenly realized that many of us are enablers, if not pushers.

When the biggest box-office hit of the summer is a fictional Armageddon between out-sized machines and the human race (Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, over $200 million in box-office receipts in the first week), and when some game-making mental midgets decide it’s OK to design a video game around the very real, very bloody 2004 battle of Fallujah (Six Days in Fallujah, which thankfully has been shelved), I think we have reached a societal acceptance of war that condones and promotes it.

Bigelow’s film points no fingers and presents no grand metaphor. Nothing about winners and losers, victory or defeat, missions accomplished or left unfinished. Every day the soldiers of Delta Company go out and try to detect, defuse or detonate bombs. Besieged Iraqi citizens, themselves victims of the same bombs, dispassionately observe the efforts.

The trio at the center of the film—Staff Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner), Sergeant J.T. Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Specialist Owen Eldridge (Brian Geraghty)—are soldiers we rarely ever see or witness. James is the wildcard who parachutes in when the original bomb tech is, well, blown up. The shy Eldridge, who barely gets out alive, is along for the wild ride. He’s not addicted to the potent cocktail of arms and violence like James and Sanborn. And as pumped as Sanborn can get, he is an amateur compared to the adrenaline-embossed, reckless James. Is James trying to commit suicide when he breaks protocol while dealing with explosive devices? Maybe. But you can’t take your eyes off of him.

There is an undertow of testosterone and racial animus in the way James and Sanborn consistently clash. But it never colors the story. Critics of the film say there is not enough narrative, and Bigelow, who I’ve been a fan of since 1987’s Near Dark, has just strung a series of disjointed scenes together.

But that is war. There is no coherent narrative. If you try to impose some grand design, you will have committed a deadly mistake. It’s something the late Robert McNamara learned way too late.

Nick Charles is a regular contributor to The Root.

On a warm, breezeless July night in suburban Maryland, a football team runs drills on a high school field: 7-on-7, blitz packages, pat and go.

If you pulled over to take a closer look, you’d be surprised to see that the players beneath the pads and helmets are women. The 60 of us are members of the D.C. Divas women’s pro-football team.

We are mothers, professionals, students, all ages and races. Some of us fought rush-hour traffic to make practice in time; others packed a shower bag and change of clothes to leave practice a few minutes early to make the night shift. Some of the most feared competitors on the field might have their 6- and 7-year-olds in tow.

We spend eight months out of the year like this, running, lifting, sweating, hitting, hurting and bleeding for the game we love. And it’s all for the moment we will experience this Saturday, when we battle for the Eastern Conference championship against the Boston Militia.

None of us do it for the glitz or glamour. Our injuries—sprained ankles, broken toes, torn ACLs—may slow us down or temporarily take us out, but as soon as our bodies can handle it (sometimes even a little sooner) we get back out there.

We definitely don’t do it for the money. Our average salary is hundreds of thousands less than the average NFL salary (which amounts to roughly $0). Our manager, coaches and medical staff (one sports doc, two chiropractors, a podiatrist and a physical therapist) receive the same modest salary. And every day at least one D.C. Diva, be it a rookie or a nine-year veteran, is faced with the task of convincing a naysayer or non-believer that women’s full-contact football does in fact exist.

When the Divas won the 2006 World Championship against Oklahoma City, there were rings, but no parade. There were no endorsement deals, even though a candid shot of any player could easily be used as an Under Armour or Nike ad. But that didn’t take away from the glorious feeling of being on top. That year we easily defeated every opponent who crossed our path.

We had similar success in the 2007 regular season, but that, however, bred a sense of false security. When we lost in the first round of playoffs to a then-powerhouse team from the South, it left us all scratching our heads. 

In 2008, the league got bigger, and the teams got tougher. We fought hard, losing no game by more than six points, but still only finished with a .500 average. The disappointing end to the season made us more determined, and at least a dozen players who swore that last year was their last year suited up again in 2009 to defend the Divas’ name and put D.C. back on top.

This year, we have a new coaching lineup that introduced us to an improved structure and a more rigorous work ethic. Our new head coach knew we had all the right weapons to be champions; we have a skilled quarterback, powerhouse running backs, lithe receivers, aggressive linebackers and corners who can backpedal a pass route better than most receivers can run it forward. All we needed was the will, effort and desire to get back where we deserved to be—among the ranks of the best.

So far it’s worked. We climbed back to the top in 2009, which is turning into our redemption year. We have regularly dismantled last year’s formidable opponents. When we played the reigning champions from Detroit, their coach asked the referees to “just call it” at halftime to avoid continuing the 35-0 slaughter that had ensued in the first 30 minutes. We beat both Pittsburgh and New York in all four match-ups by more than 10 points.

This weekend, one team still stands between us and another championship run, and that’s the Boston Militia. And the name fits; they are a conglomerate of three New England football teams and fierce competitors.

The Militia already started counting chickens by their trash talk that appeared in the Boston Globe and elsewhere around the Web.

I’m guessing they might reconsider when they see how bloodthirsty the Divas are for a win. In our minds, this is no chance encounter; the stars have aligned themselves in our favor to give us this opportunity to redeem all of last year’s ills. This game could’ve been against any other team; a different rating, an unexpected defeat or any other number of possibilities could have made us miss this opportunity. But now we have the chance, in one season and one fell swoop, to right every wrong and nullify every “what if” from seasons past.

Only time will tell if our road will continue on to Austin, Texas for the Super Bowl. Either way, I’ll be suiting up next season to do this all over again—hopefully with some new jewelry.

Jordyn White is a writer in Washington and plays linebacker for the D.C. Divas.

“Do your job.”
—Lt. Cedric Daniels, The Wire

Gov. Sarah Palin isn’t using the title “Reverend” yet, but that could be her next move. She’s well on her way to becoming a conservative Rev. Al Sharpton in whiteface. At least she’s not known as “Sarah the Fisherman.” (Unless she forgets to take down the “Gone Fishin’” sticky note on her office door in Juneau ...)

Joe the Plumber isn’t looking to join the Nation of Islam any time soon. But since he’s already dumped his slave name, “Joe X” doesn’t really seem like that much of a reach.

And Republican National Committee Chair Michael Steele might be surprised to learn that some of his closest associates think he’s Washington, D.C.’s real “Magic Negro.”

However, none of them is using their high-profile, public platform to actually do the hard work of consensus-building and shaping public policy. Instead, they’ve all opted for the steadily withering and oversubscribed role of unelected, unaccountable representatives.

New Jack Pity

A new generation of African-American elected officials, including D.C. Mayor Adrian Fenty, Newark Mayor Corey Booker, Sacramento Mayor Kevin Johnson, Alabama Congressman Artur Davis and Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick are taking their cues from the Barack Obama school. They’ve accepted the hand-off of leadership from the civil rights generation by asking their constituencies to trust them to use the reins of government as a primary means for advancing the interests of their communities.

Meanwhile, Palin wants permission from her constituency to become more famous and less accountable. Just as mainstream black civic leadership is becoming fully invested in working within, rather than confronting, the political system, Palin is going in the other direction—trading the rigors of day-to-day governing for a 24/7/365 license to ill on behalf of presumably fed–up, “family-values” promoting conservatives.

But as the Atlantic’s Ta-Nehisi Coates points out, Palin’s self-conception as catch-all representative of these “real” Americans is a fantasy conjured up by conservative elites that only works “if you think that most of working-class America is as f***ing inept as Sarah Palin.”

In fact, Palin is a classic example of the “Peter Principle”—she’s actually benefitted over and over again from the slack she’s been cut, mostly because of her personal appeal.

So when Palin blames a media double standard for her inability to govern, it’s akin to Sharpton suggesting that the media’s coverage of Michael Jackson’s death has been a racist double standard—it only means anything if you factor in that the whole point is to generate more media attention. The difference is that Sharpton actually knows how to deliver a good sermon—“a genius that dealt with a freaky situation,” indeed.

Get Off the Bus

In another life, Joe could be the Republicans’ counterweight to Sen. Al Franken.

The plumber should be the perfect congressional candidate—a prototype citizen legislator as envisioned by the founding fathers.  If he put on a coat and tie, sharpened his focus on the tax issue that made him famous and started quietly making the rounds in his own community, he’d be a shoe-in to win a congressional seat in 2010.

Instead of working his way up the ladder of the House GOP caucus, he’s content to be a T-shirt wearing, tea-party keynoter. His political role model is really Minister Louis Farrakhan—a Minister-without-Portfolio standing in for an amalgamation of poorly defined grievances.

The Curious Case of Michael Steele

The Young Republican Federation meets in Indianapolis this weekend to choose a new leader, amid controversy surrounding Audra Shay, a contender for the top YRF post, for recent comments in postings on her Facebook page that contained racist jokes.

Some conservatives, like Hip Hop Republicans’ Lenny McAllister, came out unequivocally condemning the comments. But Steele, who campaigned for the RNC chairmanship against an opponent who distributed “Barack the Magic Negro” CDs, has been pretty quiet about the incident, raising the question: What is he even there for?

There are more seasoned political players, more stalwart conservatives and more prodigious fundraisers who could have been installed as GOP chair other than Steele. But he’s a jocular, semi-credible good soldier who’s also black. He really only brings value to his position if he takes a crack at changing the Republican culture from the inside out. He hasn’t done it yet, and if he can’t do it from the bully pulpit he has now, then he was a lame duck from the start.

Once upon a time, a few undemocratically self-anointed individuals spoke (and spoke, and spoke) for black America. Black participation in government and the elective political process was stunted, and Middle America nurtured a perception that African Americans were content to stay permanently outside of the political mainstream.

That’s finally changed in the Obama era. But while the old leadership model is rapidly declining in the black community, it’s being revived among the tribe of disaffected cultural conservatives whose most visible leaders now are young, gifted and slack.

David Swerdlick is a regular contributor to The Root.

Back in the day, baseball statistician and writer Bill James wrote that it’s better to spend money on new publicity instead of on old publicity. Clubs were better spending money for players who have most of their highlight clips in their future rather than in their past.

It has taken baseball personnel bosses a decade or two, but they seem to be figuring out the wisdom in James’ common-sense message. The early stages of the NBA free-agent signing period suggest that basketball execs are coming around, too. The free agency signing period began July 1st but contracts didn't become official until July 8, when the salary cap is established and precise amounts for the mid-level exception (a contract that teams over the salary cap can offer to one player) will be set. If there’s a good explanation for why these events don’t coincide, I haven’t heard it.

The big news in the early days of this summer’s free agent period has centered on young players. Ben Gordon, 26; Charlie Villanueva, 24; Marcin Gortat, 26; and Trevor Ariza, 24, have all received five-year deals. Shorter deals have gone to veteran players: Rasheed Wallace, Jason Kidd and Ron Artest. Only the Toronto Raptors blundered badly, inking Hedo Turkoglu, 30, to a five-year deal. Let’s look at the action off the hardwood so far.

The Detroit Pistons got off to a fast start by removing the stench from their 39-43 campaign in ’08-’09 by signing Gordon and Villanueva, two of the best young players on the market. Although I have reservations about giving Gordon $11 million per season until 2014, he will be a valuable addition as a sixth man and the third backcourt player in three-guard sets. Whenever a player excels in the playoffs, he gets about 40 percent more than his actual market value. I’m sure Gordon’s clutch play for Chicago in this spring’s memorable playoff series against Boston raised his value. Villanueva is a good replacement for Wallace. The Pistons’ streak of six straight conference finals appearances ended this year, and they have a lot of work to do before than can reasonably forecast going that deep into the post-season again, but they have made their team younger and more athletic.

The most intriguing move of the off-season so far has been the “swap” that resulted in forwards Ron Artest and Trevor Ariza changing teams. Ariza was miffed that the Los Angeles Lakers offered him a contract only in the range of $5.8 million a year and went shopping for other offers. The Lakers, figuring they had lost their starting small forward, moved quickly and signed Artest, formerly of the Houston Rockets, to a three-year deal worth $18 million. Meanwhile, Ariza signed with Houston for five years and approximately $36 million.

The deals help both teams. Artest is a stellar defender, an important factor given that the Lakers’ title defense likely takes them through several teams with exceptional weak side forwards—most notably, Richard Jefferson of the San Antonio Spurs, Carmelo Anthony of the Denver Nuggets and possibly some guy named LeBron.  

The risk is twofold. Artest is a notoriously volatile player, and he’s not an efficient one, often jacking up shots on whim. Last season with the Houston Rockets, he used 24.7 percent of his team’s possessions. He’s replacing a player who used only 16.7 percent of his team’s possessions. Maybe Artest will adjust; maybe not. I did mention he’s volatile, right? It’s a big risk, but it’s one I’d take.

Ariza makes the Rockets younger and more athletic, and if he continues the improvement he showed in the playoffs, then the Rockets will have another cornerstone toward a team that isn’t so dependent on the oft-injured Yao Ming and Tracy McGrady. The Rockets took an interest in Ariza when it appeared that their conference rivals, the Dallas Mavericks, had worked out a deal with former Orlando reserve center Marcin Gortat. Gortat played very well backing up Dwight Howard and was due a long-term contract. He will likely receive five years from the Mavericks.

Gortat, Ariza, Gordon and Villanueva are young players and offering them five-year deals makes sense. Barring injury, each will still be at the peak of their athletic prowess toward the end of the contracts. That the Toronto Raptors and Portland Trail Blazers played tug-of-war to offer former Magic swingman Hedo Turkoglu a five-year deal is just plain silly. Turkoglu turned 30 in March, and players with his skill set typically decline in their early 30s. There is no need to clog precious cap space with players on the verge of their decline years.

It’s unusual for players deep into their 30s to reverse their decline, but guard Jason Kidd, 36, did that last season and was rewarded with an extraordinarily lucrative three-year deal by the Dallas Mavericks. (I think Mavericks owner Mark Cuban is still trying to justify the deal that brought Kidd to Dallas for all-star Devin Harris.) Boston must be hoping that Rasheed Wallace has some of Kidd’s mojo. Otherwise. their two-year, $11 million deal with him is wasted money.

The fact that the news in the first week of free agency even involves a player like Wallace, who turns 35 just before camp opens, is a sure sign of a weak market. Most teams are sitting tight, and some are conserving money for next year’s free-agent market, which will be full of star talent. Two of the best moves so far this summer came from Utah Jazz teammates Mehmet Okur and Carlos Boozer. Each could have opted out of their contracts to become free agents, but sensing greener opportunities next summer, both decided to stay on for one more season in Salt Lake City. In this market, thinking outside the box means avoiding risks, not taking them.

Martin Johnson is a regular contributor to The Root.