Looking at Cremeithius Riggins and his father, Carlos Farmer, their bond is evident.
They look, walk and talk alike. They even dress alike: Both wore vests with their suits last week at a ceremony honoring Riggins, who is a finalist for student of the year at Atlanta Technical College.
Hard to believe they just met. But for 22 years, Riggins drifted in and out of homelessness and a litany of schools, never knowing who his father was. He can’t recall ever having a positive male role model in his life.
That scenario — sadly typical in some black communities — is one reason President Barack Obama launched “My Brother’s Keeper.” The $200 million, five-year initiative aims to fix persistent problems that lower the odds of success for young black males such as Riggins.
Black men are 6 percent of the population but 43 percent of murder victims. Black kids are 16 percent of the youth population but 37 percent of those locked up.
In fourth grade, 42 percent of white boys and 14 percent of black boys are proficient in reading. By the time they reach high school, 14 percent of white boys and 42 percent of black boys have been suspended or expelled.
“We just assume this is an inevitable part of American life, instead of the outrage that it is,” Obama said. “The plain fact is there are some Americans who … have had the odds stacked against them in unique ways that require unique solutions … ”
Riggins, who is majoring in paralegal studies at Atlanta Tech, found help at the Institute for Males, which serves up to 600 young men annually. A quarter of them are high school students from Atlanta, south Fulton and Clayton.
“We want to surround these young men with the right tutoring in math and science and strengthen their self-esteem and prospects in life,” said the program’s director, Henry Carter. “They bring a lot of scars with them, and we want to help them through that.”
When Riggins was 4, he was taken from his mother and placed in foster care. His great-grandmother, Gussie Williams, came and got him and raised him. But there were also intermittent stints with his mother, who battled demons that made life with her erratic.
In his speech, Riggins said he remembers as a 13-year-old getting evicted at least four times.
“I would come home and everything I owned would be out on the curb,” he said. “Everything. Even baby pictures were taken to the dumpster or stolen.”
Ms. Gussie welcomed him back, but a month before his 17th birthday, he became the father of a son, Joshua. He still graduated from Grady High School, where he played basketball and earned a partial scholarship to Jacksonville State University.
But despite a 3.7 grade point average at Jacksonville State, he couldn’t afford to stay.
“That was the longest Greyhound bus trip in my life,” he said, about returning to Atlanta.
He was determined, though, not to abandon his education. “I didn’t want to be a statistic,” he said.
He got jobs in security and finally enrolled at Atlanta Tech, where he became a top student and joined AIM.
But there was still a void.
For 22 years, his mother refused to give him Carlos Farmer’s name. She finally did on Jan. 1, 2014, Farmer’s 40th birthday. It took Riggins five minutes to find his father on Facebook.
He sent a friend request. Not sure why this unknown young man would want to friend him, Farmer browsed through Riggins’ profile.
“I saw a picture of his mother and said, ‘Oh,’” Farmer recalled.
Thus began an online reunion.
Farmer: How are you?
Riggins: Do you know who I am?
Farmer: I know you know who I am.
Within two days, father and son were meeting for dinner and shooting pool.
“I stared at him for five hours straight,” Riggins said. A paternity test followed; it confirmed their obvious tie.
“I was 17 when he was born,” said Farmer, who also has an 8-year-old daughter. “Me and his mom lost contact, and I never knew about him. But it was kind of a cloud over my head.”
But for now, that cloud is gone.
“We worked out at the gym yesterday, and he was just telling me stuff about the weights and training, and I was like a little kid,” Riggins said. “We talk at least three times a week. We go out and eat Mexican food. I am riding a natural high.”
He is also breaking a chain. Riggins is the first man in his family to go to college. First one not to get in any kind of legal trouble. First one to raise his son.
Farmer, who runs a limo company, said he wasn’t raised by his father, who died last fall. His father barely knew his.
But Riggins, who also works full-time as an account manager for a security company, is the primary guardian for his son, Joshua.
“I know what he needs because I know what I didn’t have,” Riggins said.
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