Oakland Roots

A profile of my father, Raymond Beasley IV.

*Bolded words are Oakland ‘slang’

Although the city of Oakland is small, its roots are rich.

Today, Oakland, California looks beat up, as if a heavyweight world champ just molly-whopped an inexperienced boxer after just two rounds. Crime is on the rise so police are at every crooked corner. So much so, you thought Oakland had free donuts. The city just lost its last remaining professional sports team. The Oakland Athletics to Sacramento, the Oakland Raiders to Las Vegas, and the Golden State Warriors to San Francisco. These sports franchises were lost due to the owners inability to renew their rights to the Oakland Coliseum and Oracle Arena. 

Back then, Oakland was hyphy. Hyphy: extremely rowdy and energetic. In Oakland, “hyperactive” is a cultural phenomenon, an up-tempo style associated with hip hop music and dancing specifically in Northern California in the early 90’s. Oakland bred a dream team of hip-hop artists. Mac Dre, Too $hort, E-40, Keak Da Sneak, Mistah F.A.B. They all created anthems people from Oakalnd still slap today. The hyphy movement for Oaklanders encouraged people to go dumb dance and have fun, but it was also a message to not get violent and a distraction to distance themselves away from the strange crime-filled reality. 

Back then, Oakland was historic. A landmark in U.S. history. The Black Panther Party was founded by a couple Merritt College students in Oakland, California. In 1966, Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale grew dissatisfied with constant run-ins with police and brutality towards civil rights protestors politics, the instant solution became self-defense. Members confronted police, challenged politicians and protected black citizens from brutality.

The Black Panther Party served the people of Oakland. Members hosted food programs, sponsored schools, and provided clothes and transportation for the public. Over nearly two decades, the party expanded through San-Francisco, Los Angeles, Seattle, and Philadelphia becoming the most influential Black Power organization of all time. Oakland was THE town to be. Hence the city’s unique nickname, ‘The Town’. 

And somewhere in the streets of East Oakland is my father’s origin. 

On May 22, 1973, Kathy Harbor-Beasley, my grandmother, gave birth to our family’s heart and soul of Oakland, California, Raymond Beasley IV, who taught us how to be Black men.

Harbor is a sweet, resilient and independent woman, who will love and care for her grandsons harder than the next one. She is four years removed from an accident that nearly ended her life. The week of my high school graduation, she suffered a stroke, lost all feeling in the left side of her body, and landed in the hospital. She couldn’t come to my graduation. 

That was when she kicked in. She did countless therapy sessions and built up her strength. Now she says she’ll be at my next graduation this spring, from college. 

I told your Dad today talking about you getting ready to graduate. I’m gonna use my walker and I really wanna come down for your graduation. My best joy is you boys. From preschool to young men, I was there [for you],” Harbor told me.

Strokes typically cause memory loss, but my grandmother remembers her first memories of her son. The words sprout faster than she can think, as if it just happened. 

“Shoot, I just had him,” Harbor says in a jokey tone. “I didn’t know what my Pooh-Bear looked like until they brought him back the next day, all I saw was his butt and they said it’s a boy.” 

Well Grandma, all boys transition to men, or bears. 

Pooh-bear was my father’s childhood nickname given by my grandmother the first time she held him. She saw Winnie-the-Pooh, a cartoon teddy bear which debuted in 1926 in a British weekly magazine titled Punch. In 1973, she was holding her ‘honey’ in her arms, and the name ‘stuck’ for years. 

It wasn’t all ‘sweet’ when my father grew out of the name. 

His cousins, Lawrence and Larry Thomas are literally his blood, sweat and tears, besties if you will. Harbor made sure the trio hung out after school

“Pooh Bear,” my grandmother called to my now teenage Father as he hung with the cousins. “Pooh Bear.”

That was it. 

He came up to me and said, ‘Mom, can you do me a favor’ he goes ‘can you please not call me that anymore.

From that day on, she called him Bear.. Her Pooh Bear was growing up too fast. Meanwhile, both cousins were fond of his name, especially my uncle, Lawrence Thomas, who I call Uncle Pop.

“About the time I was a toddler, say 2 years old, I started walking. I kind of hobbled around like Fred Sanford, Thomas laughs. “His son Lamont, he always called him Pop. [My parents] started calling me Pop because I walked around like Fred Sanford” he says. 

Clarity - I’m not going to lie; this is news to me. It wasn’t until the latter half of my life when I learned he and his son (my cousin) had the same name, and hearing the origin of the name left me more fascinated. It’s amazing what the power of a 1970’s Black sitcom had on my family’s household. And no, no one made fun of his nickname, it was a part of my uncle’s identity.   

I think my Uncle Pop is hella funny and somewhere in his slightly recently renovated house he keeps an encyclopedia of jokes and funny stories. 

“We were goofy as hell and we were always cappin' and shit," Thomas says jokingly. “I like to laugh man, so when I’m kickin it, especially with the loved ones it’s all about having a good time and injecting laughter into the situation, that always makes it better man so I always got something silly to say.”

Laughter is the best medicine. A great distraction from this cruel world that took my Uncle Larry in a car accident two years back. Something his big brother loved to do was smile and laugh, which is what he’d keep wanting his little brother to do. My uncle lost his blood, but still had some left over because my Dad was still around. 

“When your uncle Larry passed away it triggered a fear mechanism like I’m out here by myself because that’s my big brother, Thomas said. “But what made me feel better was realizing I still had Ray, so I’m still protected.”

Thomas admired both his brothers in the time the trio had. They never took each other for granted. My uncle said my father was one of the most unique and intelligent people he had ever been around, which made him feel at home.      

Although my father retired his mushy nickname, Harbor respected him and told me they grew closer that day. 

“I was a listener. I always told him, if you have a problem and need to talk to me, talk to me,” Harbor says. 

When they got to high school, my father was balling, literally. He was the ultimate student athlete, hitting the books then the field. Any sport that comes to mind, he’s probably picked up on it a couple times before. Primarily, basketball, football, baseball, tennis and even rock climbing. He was doing a ton of stuff out of the norm in the hood. But if his grades weren’t up to par, he had plenty of climbing back up to do and he’d have to forget about the score of the game.      

“If he didn’t have good grades he wouldn’t play and he knew, " Harbor says. “He would do it on the bus or at school, and when he came home his homework was already done.” 

My father led by example and still does. 

“I always tell him that I love him. I am so proud of his sons and what he raised the both of you to be and I just love him to death. Thank God I had Bear.” 

Yes, thank God she did. 

‘Be a leader, not a follower’ my father always preached, in particular to my younger brother and. In fact, my brother certainly plays that role. 

Bryce Beasley is my father’s youngest son but towers over his oldest at 6 foot 3 inches, and all the oldest can do is smile. Never mind him being my brother, the first-year business management major at Howard University knows what it takes to become a leader, thanks to his pops.   

“When I think of that [phrase], I definitely think of being your own person and not allowing others to change your thoughts and opinions. Don’t fall into the traps of others, Beasley says. [The phrase] always pops into my head when my “friends” are doing activities that don’t align with my values, like drinking and smoking for example.”  

Beasley, 17, says of us he can’t speak for all father-son relationships but thinks fathers should keep it real, and tell us right from wrong. He said one, unique thing his father: will always tell us there is nothing we have done that he hasn’t done. He isn’t that old, but he’s extremely wise. 

In addition to being his life coach, his father was his basketball coach for his 12U AAU team. Rather than losing his voice in the stands. Beasley told me he enjoyed having his father as his coach, demanding his best, on and off the court. 

“It started with 1 on 1 practices. For it to transfer to becoming my coach on my team, holding me accountable and giving me tough love, I loved every second of it.” 

Beasley would go on to play high school basketball in his senior year, becoming one of the bright spots of a poorly run team. Although his father was visibly frustrated with the team, whenever his son was in the game, he’d always be in the stands.  

I asked my brother if he could put it all in one sentence, and it brought me back to my conversation with my grandmother on how she handled her son playing sports. 

“He says to always put academics first, and in whatever you do, put energy and effort into it.” he says.

When it comes to our family, everyone agrees that my brother is my father’s mini-me, they’re almost a mirror image of each other. So much so, he enlightened me when he said why. 

“It’s my demeanor and how I carry myself is similar to him on a day-to-day basis, how I think for myself without always wanting help and becoming independent. Being around friends, one minute I can be laughing and joking, the next I’ll have serious moments, and keep to myself. 

From my grandmother, to my father, to my little brother, it’s clear as day independent acts run in the family. It’s nothing against those who try to help, it’s a sign of respect. But it’s something about Oakland that brings the stubbornness out of its people. 

My father is very Oaklandish. Oaklandish is an active lifestyle clothing brand directly in the city of Oakland. The term Oaklandish generally means acting in a unique way and style that is cool, brave and daring. And if you know my dad, he is all the above, according to my brother. 

“What first comes to mind is when he puts on old school music, you can tell it's his music, his switch flips and his inner child comes out. He’ll mess with people and he’ll mess with us.” 

To paint a picture, my father would either envision his thighs as drums and slap to the beat, or serenade someone, or his group of loud, unhinged friends and cousins while he smokes a cigar. See, my brother and I are his sons so we’re an easy target to mess with, which was outta pocket. Perhaps, an easier target is a woman, you know, the proper person to serenade.

This would be his woman, his college sweetheart, our mother Shannon Ladner-Beasley.   

Cookies and Cream is my favorite ice cream flavor, but it’s also the darlingest nicknames my parents gave each other in college. 

My mother and father both attended Skyline High School in Oakland, but their love story didn’t begin until their college days. My mom was a freshmen-going-on sophomore at UC Davis, just minutes up the road from California’s capital, Sacramento. My father was at Sacramento State in his fifth year, not far from his love, but both of them originate from Oakland, California.  

She is super caring, loving and helpful, especially to the family. She really does get along with anyone. I can't recall a time where my mom came across as rude to anyone or bad mouthed anyone. With that being said, I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.  

It was a hot summer in 1995, and my Mom’s freshman year had just wrapped up, and she and her friends made it down to The Town to make the annual Oakland festival at the lake. Everyone is out, the weather is immaculate and vibes were felt, even at the nearest McDonalds.  

“When we went to McDonalds and I met your Dad, the thing for me where I went ‘Oh I'm gonna marry him’ (I laughed) because number one, he had the prettiest smile, and I really liked his eyes, and he was from Oakland, she chuckled. He had this maturity, and he had this smile I couldn’t get out of my mind and I thought he was so cute,” she says.

“So, when we met at McDonalds [my friends] thought it was funny because they were like ‘wouldn't it be crazy if you met your husband at McDonalds, and it just so happened that’s what I did.” This is too cute. I'm not going to lie.    

It’s clear as day my parents were meant to be together. They’d grow to become soulmates. For this to happen, my mother’s trust grew as well. Thus, the name calling would transpire. 

“When I started getting comfortable around him, I started calling him my cookie. Once we started hanging out, going to eat and figuring out desserts, we both realized we like cookies and cream ice cream. If I was calling him cookie, I became his cream, my mother says. Sweet stuff. 

It’s clear as day my parents were meant to be together. They’d grow to become soulmates. For this to happen, her own mother's trust had to grow. At first, my mother didn’t want to bring my father around until she knew he was ready. My father mattered a lot to her, and she needed her parents to see him as someone worth their daughter’s time and a gentleman to her Mom.

The couple was attending summer school at Laney College, and my father insisted they do homework together after taking her home, and whenever her mother came home that's when he’d meet her. When she came through the door, she was surprised to see a slightly older guy in her house. When my father introduced himself, he was immediately trying to be charming as it seemed to work.    

Her mother is my Nana, Sherlie Ladner. If you thought my mom sounded sweet, you haven’t met my nana. Like mother like daughter, both ladies are an extremely likable bunch and mirror each other so well.    

“To me he was quiet, but he was intelligent. He wasn’t very talkative but his communication was good. He had study habits and that was good. I wasn’t a talker either but I observed. This guy is quite smart. I could tell he cared for Shannon, and you could depend on his word. Their relationship grew on us.” she says

There wouldn’t be a happy movie without a little drama. My mother told me the drama didn’t go through Nana, it went through her Dad, my Papa. His strange connection with my Dad is that his co-workers daughter dated my father in the past, and obviously they didn’t hit it off. The co-worker claimed he was a horrible human being, and my Mom said he was a straight up hater, and so was her father at first, but that certainly didn’t last. 

I really wish I could get my Papa’s side of the story. I really really wish I could. My Papa passed away in December 2022 due to heart failure. On the day I’d finally leave college for Winter Break, my Papa transitioned to Heaven. It ended up being the worst day of my life. One of my best friends is gone forever, but he still lives through my Nana, though every day hurts harder than the last without her love.  

“Everyday life for me without the presence it’s tough, but I am learning to live my best life, as he’d want me to,” as she gets choked up. “I’m still being a good Mom and a good grandmother, but I’m being so honest it’s hard because there will never be another Nathanial Rich Ladner,” she says.  

It’s hard to see, because I’m sure if my Nana and Papa traded places, he’d be saying the same things. That’s how deep their compassion and love was for one another. At least I can say my parents did that in raising us, although it did start off a bit rocky. The transition to being a dad was a bit of a rough start for him. I guess it was his turn for some life coaching this time.  

“He was an only child, so he wasn’t used to kids at first, but we gave him pointers, " my Nana says. Be patient, be gentle, be soft. We wanted to teach him how to be a good daddy and we were pleased,” my Nana says. Now, he's a good man, a good husband, a great Dad, and he’s a true friend and he’s been one for the books.” she adds. I should add that I was the experiment. 

Once he got the hang of becoming a Dad, he became comfortable, maybe a little too comfortable. Sooner or later, we knew my father’s Oakland roots would come out, especially his wife. Took one to no one, and in this case the Oakland native thinks her husband screams Oakland. Believe it or not there’s some similarity to my brother’s response.  

“Demeanor, his swag, his attitude, it’s just Oakland. Guys from Oakland have this certain confidence and it's this hustle mentality, like there’s nothing I can’t do. It’s magnetic. The way he talks, the way he tells stories, he's an entertainer, but he’s just a guy from Oakland,” my mom says. I’m blessed to have a father who knows how to have fun. 

I can sense that his mentality is wanting to make something out of nothing coming from the hood. When it comes to us, he wants to see our lives be easier and wants us to go further than him. He set a foundation he didn’t have which was a two-parent household, positive energy, and every possibility for our lives, whether it was a sport or the game of life.  

“It brings him so much joy to be able to provide for his kids. It’s because he didn’t grow up with this ability to shop, and have whatever he wanted, to where now he’s built this life where we have whatever we want.” my mother says. 

Whenever we go on vacation my Dad wants to go to the Premium Outlets. If he’s at the outlets without us, we’re the first thing on his mind, and he’ll send us videos or pictures asking us what we want. We can be upstairs mining our business, and the next moment he’ll call us downstairs to ask if we need anything or tell us what is on sale. As you can probably tell, she appreciated those moments, as much as I did.  

“Our relationship was very much encouraging. I wanted to be that motivator to him and always keep him going. Becoming a father to him was saying he wanted to be the dad that he needed, he didn’t get to have,” my mother concludes. 

My Dad’s father, whom we’ve yet to mention, went by Raymond Beasley III. Although there’s a similarity there, he wasn’t promptly in his life growing up.  Unfortunately, I never got a chance to meet the man who would’ve been my grandfather, but it is something my grandmother would know about. 

“When [my Dad] was first born, [his father] was around, but he had a girlfriend on the side, and it blew me away because I thought I was the best thing that happened to him. I treated her with the respect that he didn’t give me. He was a good father to him I thought, but he lied too much.” my grandma says.  

Several times my Dad would be looking out the window hoping for his father to show up like he promised. Sometimes, to no avail. He would see him only a handful of times during school and during his summers until his name was called one final time, from my father to his mother.  

When I was in Reno, [my son] had told me that his father had died. He was a good father, but he wasn’t present as much anymore” she adds.  

And that was it. He passed away just a few years before I was born. It sucks to say you’ve never met family but to have his art hanging up in our house is pretty dope.  

My grandfather was an artist in Los Angeles, responsible for the maps of L. A., art festivals, and of course his paintings, (that you can find on the internet). In addition, he spent some time in Colorado whenever they hosted art festivals of their own. He was a busy man, but never too busy for his son.  

Even though the city of Oakland is my father’s home, there are reasons he no longer lives there.

My parents left Oakland after college, then my grandmother left in 2019, and my Nana has been considering leaving Oakland for years now, and my Papa was in agreement. They were considering my suburban hometown, Brentwood, California away from three of the most dangerous cities in America. It’s plain just not safe anymore. 

If we stayed in Oakland it’s going against everything my Dad preached and our safety is in jeopardy. Love, fun and positive energy is out the door and it certainly wasn’t cruising in the streets of Oakland. Oakland doesn’t present us with every opportunity for our life, as it did for our parents. Oakland is full of hatred now and there’s no denying it.

The crime rate has steadily increased over the years since the Black Panther Party, the hyphy movement and onto present day. Oakland residents are left with no choice to sell their homes. In fact, several residents on my Nana’s Street have moved out.  

Because my grandfather wasn’t as present as necessary for my Dad, and Oakland was falling out of its style it had in the early 90’s, my Dad had to figure out how to be a one on the fly, and our safety was his #1 priority.

Questions came up like what type of father did he want to be? What characteristics does a good father have and need? Should he be fun and humorous and always have a good time? My dad was a student first, athlete second so he’d accurately answered these questions, and put his energy and effort into it and everything he did as a father.

“Think about it, growing up where your father grew up, damn near nobody makes it out of there,” my uncle says.

My Dad can confidently say “I’m from Oakland and look at what I’ve become,” because it’s true. Growing up in the hood, he didn’t have everything he wanted, he had to earn it, he was cultured. Oakland is where he gained the hustle mentality, and his independent characteristics. He knows there is no situation he couldn’t conquer. With his Oaklandish attitude combined with his hustle mentality you get my father who you’ve read about today.  

Today, Raymond Beasley IV is a loving father, husband, cousin and friend working tirelessly at Equitify, LLC as the National Director of Business Development, while caring for his two sons, and balancing his love for his wife, mother, mother-in-law and his cousins. He is truly a family man and the embodiment of a Black father. We are lucky, but I am fortunate to call him my Dad.