Connect with us

Culture

Nebraska’s Jahmal Banks used his family hardship to find purpose

Published

on

Nebraska’s Jahmal Banks used his family hardship to find purpose

LINCOLN, Neb. — Before her first night on the streets, Jahmal Banks’ mother picked a family from their community of support for him to live alongside. Evicted from her Maryland home, Kristie Martin pleaded with him to leave her. It would be temporary, she said.

She promised Jahmal, a student at the private Landon School in Bethesda, that she would see him daily. She wanted to ensure his clothes were ironed before Jahmal walked into the classroom every morning 12 years ago. She wanted to know he’d eat a meal each night and that he had access to a table suitable for homework.

He said no.

“I told my mom, ‘I’m going wherever you go,’” Jahmal said.

He told her he wished he could feel her pain and take it away.

Advertisement

Kristie, Jahmal and his two young sisters, Jasmin and Zuri, were left homeless in the wake of Kristie’s divorce from Jahmal’s stepfather. The marriage fell apart under unhealthy conditions, she said.

“It was spiritual, monetary, emotional and psychological,” Kristie said. “I didn’t get my eyes black or my teeth knocked out. When you’re hit, it can heal. For three years after that separation, I shut down from the world. What kept me going was my children. They are my joy. They are my four heartbeats.

“I lost everything. But I chose my children.”

Kristie’s oldest, Kyerra Martin, at the time, attended Bowie State in Maryland on an athletic scholarship, playing volleyball and softball. The rest of them, on that awful day, sat in Kristie’s Chevy Tahoe as she cried for 30 minutes.

Before her divorce, Kristie said she had three months of mortgage payments in the bank. A longtime paramedic, she was decorated for her skills in response to trauma.

Advertisement

But in this moment, Kristie said, she lost herself.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I lost my control. I was so structured. I never thought I would have to sample bread and not know where I was going to lay my head.”

The first night, a friend took them in. Over several months that followed, Kristie and her three kids moved between hotels and a shelter around Washington, D.C. They witnessed the aftermath of a murder. She lost her steady job, Kristie said, to work at Safeway and Macy’s so she could accommodate the kids’ schedules from a displaced home.

At times, Kristie said she had to choose between buying gas and food.

Perseverance, she said, allowed Kristie to regain her footing.

Advertisement

“God placed certain people around us at certain times,” she said. “But it was a fight every day. I found strength that I didn’t know I had.”

Through that period, Kristie and her kids also saw the best in people. People who offered them a place to sleep. Or bought their meal unexpectedly at a restaurant.

It shaped Jahmal, who turns 23 next month. In his first season as a wide receiver at Nebraska, he fits as a team leader and one of the top targets of freshman quarterback Dylan Raiola. A Wake Forest transfer who caught 101 passes in the ACC over the past two years, Banks was the only offensive player at Nebraska in August to receive a single-digit jersey — awarded by a vote of players to their 10 toughest teammates.

“Tough” hardly begins to describe him.

“Jahmal is an anomaly,” Kristie Martin said. “Not because he’s my son. You don’t meet a kid like that maybe once every 15 to 20 years. He’s been through so much — and with no father. We have beat so many statistics. And for him to be academically and athletically inclined how he is, that gives me strength.”

Advertisement


Kristie Martin (left) has attended each of Jahmal Banks’ (right) games at Nebraska this season. (Photo courtesy of Kristie Martin)

You won’t get an argument about Banks from Matt Rhule. After Rhule’s first team at Nebraska finished 5-7 and lost several key players, the coach plotted to build on the backs of the departed leaders.

He hoped his second team would pick up where the first group left off and set a new standard in the offseason. Rhule did not expect, though, that a newcomer would walk in and raise the bar.

Banks set an example in training. But his primary impact came away from the workouts and the weight room.

“He’s one of the first guys I’ve ever seen — like, some guys say it — but he is here to affect other people,” Rhule said. “There’s not a day that I’m not blown away by his impact on people.

“He is an amazing, amazing person.”

Advertisement

Banks led Nebraska players in offseason community service hours, a number that’s tracked and rewarded with points to create a competitive environment within the team. He scored more in a single offseason than any player that Rhule has coached at Temple, Baylor or Nebraska.

“He came here to help change our culture,” Rhule said.

It’s not just that Banks wanted to change the Huskers, he said. This is who he is.

Even for deeds that don’t score him points and may go unnoticed by teammates and coaches, Banks is all in. Recently, he bought the food ordered by a group of people in line behind him at Chipotle.

Why?

Advertisement

When his mother and sisters felt pain, Jahmal said he kept his feelings inside.

“He wanted to make sure we were good,” his sister Kyerra said. “That was just Jahmal.”

For him, an internal struggle ensued.

“At the end of the day, I had to face myself and face what I was dealing with,” he said. “In turn, I developed a purpose to make an impact in the world — just wanting to do more for my family, wanting to be someone that they could count on to be there for them and to provide.”

Jahmal said he found purpose and the key to his identity at First Baptist Church in Northwest D.C. There, he developed a giving spirit that extends beyond his family.

Advertisement

It shines through in his first season at Nebraska. Like when he buys food for unsuspecting strangers.

Presented with opportunities to help people, Banks does not hesitate to bring full circle his experience from difficult times of his childhood.

“My son gives so much,” Kristie Martin said.

He grabbed a 21-yard touchdown pass in the first half of his Nebraska debut. Since, he has endured a quiet stretch. Through three games, he’s caught seven balls for 76 yards.

But the Huskers are 3-0 and ranked No. 22 as they prepare to face Illinois on Friday night in the Big Ten opener for both programs.

Advertisement
go-deeper

GO DEEPER

Will Nebraska’s revamped offense be enough in Big Ten play?

“It’s perfect,” he said, “because I’m process-driven, not results-driven. I make it all about us. I just continue to enjoy the journey. It’s a battle all the time, but you’ve gotta just fall in love with the process.”



Jahmal Banks transferred to Nebraska from Wake Forest in the offseason. (Photo courtesy of Nebraska Athletics)

Jahmal played the trumpet for several years and competed in lacrosse, basketball and football. In high school at Bishop O’Connell in Arlington, Virginia, he emerged as an elite prospect on the gridiron. Banks transferred as a senior to St. Frances Academy in Baltimore to play against top competition nationally.

Ivy League offers poured in. His mother wanted him to attend Penn. Jahmal was drawn to the lights of major-conference programs.

“For her, it was not the four-year plan,” Banks said. “It was the 40-year plan.”

Advertisement

They found a compromise in Wake Forest, a smaller, private school in a major conference. He sought a change after last season and expressed concern to Kristie that “there was no guarantee” as he looked at Nebraska, Wisconsin and Purdue.

“You’re the guarantee,” Kristie told Jahmal.

When Kristie met Rhule on their visit to Lincoln last winter, she said she “felt the passion” in him.

“Oh, my God, it was so different,” she said. “I knew that this was where he’s supposed to be. I felt like (Rhule) said what he meant and he was going to show me.”

Jahmal wasn’t about to start doubting his mother then.

Advertisement

“She gave, saved and changed my life,” Jahmal said. “You can look back, and in another timeline, Jahmal isn’t here. But in the timeline that was supposed to happen, he is here because of what she sacrificed.”

He has written, performed and released music about his life experiences.

He often ponders the turbulent road his family traveled.

“That’s in my mind,” Jahmal said. “I think about my sisters. I look back, and what I really want is not about money. It’s not fame. It’s about healing.”

Kristie has attended each of the Huskers’ three games at Memorial Stadium. She works again in the medical field and must miss the Friday game this week. She’ll be on site for the rest of them, along with various family members.

Advertisement

Meanwhile, Kyerra coaches volleyball at DuVal High School in Lanham, Maryland, and plays tackle football for the D.C. Divas as part of the Women’s Football Alliance.

She said she credits Jahmal as the inspiration for bid to compete in the sport.

Jasmin attends Maryland to study pre-law. Zuri, in high school, wants to become a veterinarian.

“I told Jahmal he’s my role model,” Kyerra said. “There’s a lot going on in this world, but it was embedded in us to help others in need. Jahmal is always the one who’s thoughtful before the thought comes out.”

(Top photo courtesy of Nebraska Athletics)

Advertisement

Culture

Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope

Published

on

Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope

Advertisement

Where do you turn when you need advice? A chatbot? A life coach? A wise and trusted friend?

How about a poet? Poets may not be famous for making the best life choices, but because they subject the mess of human existence to the discipline of language, they can be as helpful as any therapist or mentor.

Good poets know the rules and when to break them, which is something they can teach the rest of us.

Advertisement

To wit:

Giving advice is a peculiar literary undertaking. It flourishes in certain popular genres — graduation speeches, newspaper columns, country and western songs and poems like this one — but what, in these contexts, is it really for?

Advertisement

I’m thinking of situations when you don’t urgently need help but nonetheless enjoy reading answers to questions you may not have thought to ask. What interests you isn’t the content of the advice — you could get all the life hacks you want from A.I. — so much as the voice of the person dispensing it.

Wendy Cope is an English poet, born in 1945, who has been a fixture of her country’s literary scene since the 1980s. More recently, her short, buoyant poem “The Orange” has been widely memed online, bringing her to the attention of new readers beyond Britain.

Advertisement

Cope favors rhyme, meter, brisk jokes and tart aperçus. She addresses romance, friendship and the petty absurdities of modern life with disarming good humor. The last line of “The Orange” is “I love you. I’m glad I exist.” Somehow she makes it the opposite of cringe.

This isn’t the kind of poetry you would describe as “confessional.” And yet …

Want to learn this poem by heart? We’ll help.

Advertisement

Fill in the missing words below. You can always refer to the reading by A.O. Scott and full
text above.

Question 1/7

Let’s start with the first stanza.

Advertisement

Stop, if the car is going clunk 

Or if the sun has made you blind. 

Dont answer emails when youre drunk. 

Advertisement

Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.

Advertisement

Continue Reading

Culture

Can You Match the Places These Authors Lived With Settings in Their Books?

Published

on

Can You Match the Places These Authors Lived With Settings in Their Books?

A strong sense of place can deeply influence a story, and in some cases, the setting can even feel like a character itself. This week’s literary geography quiz highlights places where authors were born (or lived) that later became locations in their books. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the works if you’d like to do further reading.

Continue Reading

Culture

Book Review: ‘America, U.S.A.,’ by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.

Published

on

Book Review: ‘America, U.S.A.,’ by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.

AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries, by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.


For those of us in the national memory-keeping business, anniversaries hold near-totemic power. Satisfyingly round units of time, ideally bearing fancy, Latin-derived names, serve as the overburdened pegs on which to hang think pieces and museum exhibits, revisionist documentaries and maudlin public ceremonies. The arbitrary nature of such occasions is precisely what gives them their charge, inviting us to set aside complacency and submit to a comprehensive check-in.

In his new book, “America, U.S.A.,” Eddie S. Glaude Jr. presents an intriguing variation on the genre, seeing the country’s 250th birthday as an anniversary of anniversaries: 50 years since the malaise-ridden, schlock-heavy Bicentennial. A century since the subdued Prohibition-era Sesquicentennial. A century and a half since telegraphed reports of George Armstrong Custer’s defeat by the Lakota and Cheyenne at Little Bighorn rudely interrupted the Gilded Age Republic’s 100th birthday party.

If an anniversary offers a snapshot of a moment, the core of Glaude’s book is an old-timey photo album, a collection of notable episodes from earlier national reckonings, long-ago glances in the mirror. An estimable scholar of Black history, politics and religion at Princeton — best known for “Begin Again,” his 2020 meditation on James Baldwin’s relevance for our times — Glaude focuses, as his subtitle puts it, on “how race shadows the nation’s anniversaries.”

Such celebrations, he contends, have never really been the moments for honest self-reflection they are often advertised to be. Instead, the nation usually shatters the mirror, refusing to accept what it prefers not to see. “American anniversaries are often moments to turn a blind eye to the evils of the past and the present,” Glaude writes, “to suppress the fact of America’s divided soul.”

Advertisement

It’s a clever concept, and, needless to say, perfectly timed. Last year, Glaude notes, the Trump administration executed a hostile takeover of the government’s studiously bipartisan 250th anniversary planning. It is now preparing a program that is certain to conceal more than it reveals about the country ostensibly being celebrated.

Glaude, in no mood for celebration, argues that such omissions and evasions also defined commemorations in the past. In 1875, Frederick Douglass predicted “one grand Centennial hosannah of peace and good will to all the white race of this country.” He was right: The nation reached 100 years old at a crucial moment in the post-Civil War fight over racial equality, with white Northerners ready to give up on Southern Reconstruction. The occasion would help the once-warring sections to reunite around a shared commitment to white supremacy. On May 10, 1876, at the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, the police tried to bar Douglass from the grandstand, until a white politician vouched for him.

The 150th anniversary came soon after a resurgent Ku Klux Klan successfully pushed for a restrictive immigration law aimed at keeping America a “Nordic” nation. At the lavishly funded, lightly attended celebrations in Philadelphia, Black veterans of World War I were excluded from marching in the opening parade. A writer with The Associated Negro Press wondered “what was in the breast of those black men who fought to make America safe for Democracy and on Monday stood on the sidelines, forgotten, as the Nordic strode by in all his vain pride.”

By 1976, when the nation marked its Bicentennial, the violence of the ’60s had destroyed any semblance of consensus. Vietnam and Watergate had eroded trust in the government. The commission initially tasked with organizing the anniversary was disbanded amid reports of corruption. Corporations filled the vacuum, Glaude explains, with “star-spangled whoopee cushions; patriotic toilet seats; Liberty hamburgers; red, white and blue beer cans.” The author, around 8 years old at the time, dimly remembers donning a pair of tricolor trousers.

A half-century later, Glaude is refreshingly honest about the depths of his despair. “I do not love America, and never have, especially now,” he writes in one of the more startling opening sentences I’ve read in some time. He dismisses this year’s Semiquincentennial as reaching back “to a storybook America that requires either the banishment of Black people from view or the reduction of our role in the country’s history, so as to affirm America’s ongoing quest to be a more perfect union.”

Advertisement

Undoubtedly true. But Trump doesn’t own the country, at least not yet, nor the 250th anniversary of one of the most radically liberatory and confusingly contradictory events in world history — an inspiration, as Glaude shows, even to critical observers of the American experiment, like Douglass. Far from the revanchist MAGA-palooza in Washington, I suspect this summer’s unasked-for invitation to national soul-searching may surprise us yet.

Despite his despair, Glaude concludes that “the past still offers resources for us to freedom-dream.” So, too, does this book.


AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries | By Eddie S. Glaude Jr. | Crown | 270 pp. | $31

Continue Reading
Advertisement

Trending