I can see why last month Marvin Arrington, a Fulton County, Georgia judge, was driven to ask the white people to leave the courtroom whilst he gave a tongue-lashing to young, black offenders who seem to regard orange jumpsuits as a fashion statement and not as a scarlet letter.

He told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution that he did that because he had been reared to not air dirty laundry in public. And when you look at the procession of black kids who do the dirt that lands them before judges like Arrington -- on that day there were 50 -- we’re talking quite a stench here.

Yet, I might have been driven to make that request for other reasons.

First of all, like Arrington, I would have done it because I care. Like him, I’m weary of seeing black youths confirm the worst stereotypes that scores of people, both black and white, harbor about them.

But I also might have been frustrated enough to ask white people to leave the room. Not because I planned to say something hateful about them, but because I know that most of the time, black kids who are messing up their lives haven’t had the benefit of a frank conversation with another black person who can tell them how badly their actions reflect on the entire race. Most seem to be clueless as to how their criminality only bolsters stereotypes and further complicates their chances for success in a society controlled by whites.

And, sadly enough, it seems that a courtroom is the only place where they might be able to have that conversation.

Having that kind of talk may inadvertently offend some white people or leave room for the message to be misinterpreted. No black person needs that burden while trying to talk some sense to self-destructive black kids who rarely, if ever, get to hear from a black person who has any sense of how the real world works.

Not surprisingly, Arrington caught flak for ejecting white people from his conversation with black kids -- and he apologized. But his frustration didn’t go unnoticed by another equally frustrated black man, Bill Cosby.

Recently, Arrington joined Cosby and comedian Chris Tucker for what they called a “fireside chat” with at-risk high school students and their parents at a school in Atlanta. They talked to them about personal responsibility; about how they are destroying the legacy of black greatness began by people like Joe Louis and the like by their criminality and their apathy.

I’m glad that these guys are talking to the young’uns. But to do that, they must not only talk about how they are shaming their ancestors. They must also talk about how their actions are playing into the hands of racists who are looking for excuses to keep them confined to society’s margins.

And hope that message resonates.

There’s no shortage of evidence to show how race still matters when it comes to opportunity for blacks. A few years ago, for example, a study was done showing that job applicants with black-sounding names like LaKeisha and Jamal were less likely to be called for interviews than applicants with white-sounding names such as Justin and Courtney.

If a black-sounding name is enough to evoke a rejection, imagine how a criminal record adds to that burden.

There’s also another reason why sometimes, it’s prudent to talk to black youths without the pressure of having white people listening: There’s too much room for the message to be twisted by right-wingers who are bent on seeing black problems solely through the lens of personal, and not collective, responsibility.

Since Cosby went off on black people in 2004, proclaiming that too many children were rearing children and that black people weren’t taking care of their responsibilities, right-wing media has been having a field day. Instead of using his remarks to explore deeper truths about the black condition, Cosby’s comments have been used as vindication for decades of governmental neglect and joblessness in the communities where black criminals are now being spawned -- because, after all, Cos says that it’s all the fault of the people who live there.

What they don’t understand is that personal responsibility tends to be defined by one’s environment. If a kid lives in a redlined, job-strapped community where the only person who seems to be prosperous is the drug dealer, then he may come to see drug dealing as an exercise in personal responsibility, or “handlin’ his business,” if you will. He may see incarceration not as a penalty for making an irresponsible choice, but as the cost of doing business in a world that he believes offers him little to no opportunities.

That mentality, of course, needs to change. And while fireside chats by people like Arrington, Cosby and Tucker certainly won’t hurt, they won’t be enough to rebuild the social and economic infrastructure of inner cities. Such rebuilding is the only way to break the isolation that has caused too many black youths to acquiesce, rather than abhor, the criminality and violence in their lives.

Criminality that, too often, lands them in front of frustrated brothers like Arrington -- and exposes them to the judgments of others who don’t care enough to waste words on them.