Harry Belafonte’s recent characterization of Colin Powell as a “house slave” and Cedric the Entertainer’s acerbic comments in the hit movie, “Barbershop,” have raised age-old questions about African-Americans criticizing other members of the race and whether we should air our dirty laundry in public.

Even before tearing into Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks, “Eddie,” played by Cederic the Entertainer, says, “Look, I wouldn’t say this in front of no White people…” Of course, he went on to have his say in front of White people, Black people, Brown people and all people who paid the price of admission.

He said that Rosa Parks, whose arrest sparked the 1955 Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott and launched the career of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., sat down on the bus because she was tired. He talked about Dr. King getting his freak on. And what he said about Jesse Jackson is unprintable in any family publication. The fact that everyone else in the barbershop objected to Eddie’s comments has been lost in the debate.

As the editor who placed Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas on the covers of “Emerge: Black America’s Newsmagazine” wearing a head rag with an Aunt Jemima-style knot and as a lawn jockey for the Far Right, I am hardly neutral on this subject. If the knot fits, wear it.

In this instance, I happen to disagree with Belafonte. The singer and longtime civil rights activist told a San Diego radio host, “Colin Powell’s committed to come into the house of the master. When Colin Powell dares to suggest something other than what the master wants to hear, he will be turned out to pasture.”

Although Powell is working for the man in the Big House, he remains a strong advocate of affirmative action and the rights of poor people. He’s no different from African-Americans who worked in the Clinton administration. They could advocate progressive positions internally, but in the end, Clinton was the one who had the final say on all policy issues. I’d rather have Colin Powell being the voice of reason inside the Bush administration than to have no one fighting for our issues.

Regrettably, Powell is a minority among so-called minorities working for Bush. The president has surrounded himself with what the respected sociologist Nathan Hare termed “Black Anglo-Saxons,” instead of Blacks who will fight for social programs that once benefited them. I applaud Powell’s decision to forgo millions of dollars that he would have been making in the private sector in order to moderate a Right-wing administration.

Or, at least try.

Whether Republican or Democrat, any African-African who decides to work inside the system should expect to be unjustly criticized.

Randall Robinson, the founder and former president of TransAfrica, took a personal shot at Vernon Jordan in his 1989 autobiography, “Defending the Spirit: A Black Life in America.” Jordan was First Friend, playing golf with President Clinton and socializing with the First Family on Martha’s Vineyard.

Robinson called it “…Vernon Jordan disease, a degenerative condition among blacks in Privilege that results in a loss of any memory of what they came to Privilege to accomplish and further, any memory of the millions camped outside the gate with Louis Farrakhan.”

In my “Emerge” editor’s note, I criticized Robinson. “I am not naïve enough to think that Bill Clinton advanced a national dialogue on race through his race initiative and eventually came down on the right side of affirmative action on his own. I believe it was because of insiders like Vernon Jordan, outsiders like Elaine R. Jones, of the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, and outsiders-turned-insiders like Jesse Jackson, who helped persuade the president to do the right thing. And for that, we should be grateful, not critical.”

And in keeping with the spirit of the debate, I described the condition as “Randall Robinson disease” and defined it as “the disorder that causes some of us to attack African-Americans simply because they have chosen to exert influence out of the public eye…”

Although Robinson and I later joked about our exchange, I received many letters from readers who thought that I shouldn’t criticize a Black leader, even if that leader had criticized another Black leader. I was told that we shouldn’t wash our dirty linen in public.

We are in the shape we’re in today because, among other things, we haven’t done a good job of holding our leaders accountable. That’s why I can applaud the NAACP’s decision to issue an annual Civil Rights Report Card. That’s a yardstick that helps us support people who are supporting us.

At the same time, I feel just as comfortable asking why the NAACP criticizes some television networks for their negative portrayal of African-Americans and later give those same networks an esteemed “Image Award.”

Why shouldn’t we raise these questions? Who’s better qualified to raise these questions than African-Americans? And, equally important, what will happen if we don’t ask the tough questions?

When people ask whether we should wash our dirty linen in public, I reply: Why should I make them go to another Laundromat?