Clyde Ford’s autobiography Think Black is as much a biography of his father, the first Black systems engineer at International Business Machines, as it is his own memoir. Clyde himself worked at IBM for a few years, but found its machinery too stiff to budge further on inclusivity in its ranks. Yet, the extended and personal histories of IBM take up the brunt of the book. The curious will wonder, if he were seeking to get away from the convoluted constriction of his father’s influence, why Clyde ever sought to work for the same company at all.
The answer may be that the Black experience of traversing the minefield of White America leaves few options. His dad groomed Clyde for the job by dint of such narrow paths – describing the only point where his father furiously defends him, Clyde writes how his dad closed the door to his guidance counselor’s office and set the record that his son wouldn’t be a manual ‘aircraft laborer’, but work for IBM. The author flew as close to this ground as his wings allowed, that is until he set foot on the continent of Black origins in Ghana, where slaves were garrisoned in a coastal castle awaiting shipment to complement the slave trade. It was in those dungeons that Clyde heard the voices of his forebears and feared for his safety while being shadowed by government agents. He caught a plane out by the help of others, his wits, and luck.
During his stint with IBM, the company tried to entrap him at every decision-point, the legacy of which IBM’s founder Thomas Watson is famous for. Ford’s research into the dark past of IBM bubbles forth the hellish story of its complicity in Nazi data-gathering for the purpose of executing the Final Solution. Decades on, IBM was still profiting lucratively on the imposition of Apartheid in South Africa by supplying equipment and software to keep tabs on the Black populace. The company resisted his efforts to get snippets of information about his own father’s work. It took Clyde a lifetime to get even obtuse answers to the obvious questions of his parent’s extramarital affairs and covert undertakings for the simple sake of survival.
Set aside the outré-mer, family indelicacies, and cat and mouse, and Think Black is Ford’s succinct and spiked depiction of the maneuvering all Blacks encounter and feel compelled to subsume into their interior culture, the talks Black parents must have with their kids about getting stopped by cops, what not to wear, how not to respond to aggression. It calls for a deep breath and courage to report. Unlike other books on race, Ford’s personal story strikes a tuning fork we want to both not believe and believe at the same time. We don’t want to believe the incredible contortions Blacks still have to twist backwards to perform and conform to society’s ‘norms. We believe the sordid story of his parent’s double-life, because it coincides with and corroborates prominent stories in history, because facts don’t lie, and the facts are plain to anyone who has followed broadcast news or flapped open a paper.
Think Black can make you depressed on the state of the world. However, it’s a memoir. Ford had to get this stuff off his chest. The state it relates of the condition of race today can be sad, but it is a status that, like a barely-moving progress bar on a computer, is a sign that perhaps humanity needs a hardware or software upgrade every generation. Just as the big iron of mainframes went obsolete, society is being confronted with the reality that in order to move the social needle forward, we must ditch ancient storage and programming for newer logic, faster wiring, inclusive algorithms. Think Black is a fast read, and a book that should not gather must or dust on a shelf, but be passed around the C-suite, technology departments, and history class. It is a lesson on the past for a future we’re creating, whether you’re a techy or anyone fed up with navigating the deeply-cut American racial maze.