I saw an article about "The Talk"

Context
I came across this article today, although I can't remember how I was referred to it. The main point is that now that John Derbyshire has heard about the talk African-Americans routinely have with their children about racism, he has decided to publicize his own version.

Commentary
I had never heard about The Talk prior to today; so much for my command of pop culture memes. It occurs to me, though, that our lives would be immeasurably better if everyone's version of The Talk went like this: "Racial tensions exist in our society. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem."

What did you see today?

I saw some information about Trayvon Martin

Context
I was reading this article about the Trayvon Martin case on Slate. Until I watched the Daily Show last night, I hadn't realized he was shot over a month ago. I keep learning new things all the time, including the tidbit included in the Slate article about Martin's school suspension for marijuana possession.

Commentary
My husband and I differ on whether Trayvon Martin's death should be considered a lynching. We were in the park walking our dogs discussing it, so we didn't have a dictionary at hand, but it turns out we were pretty close to the correct definition. According to Merriam-Webster Online, to lynch is to to put to death (as by hanging) by mob action without legal sanction. So I will concede to my husband that this was not a mob action (unless you want to blame the entire Florida Legislature) and make the half-concession that it was not achieved by hanging. Nonetheless, very much without legal sanction. Or at least, without common sense sanction.

Departing from the formal definition, my husband made another argument that we think of lynching, at least the form that was practiced regularly down here where I live (check this data set if you want your hometown's scorecard), as being predicated on teaching someone a lesson. I remarked that it's hard to teach a corpse a lesson, but I understood the point he was trying to make.

And now, from hyperbole to trivializing. Lynching in this country is what white people do to black people who are bugging them. It's our way of saying, "The law of proportional response only applies to people who look like me. For others, I can react however I want." Remember, we used to use this form of capital punishment for offenses like speaking to white women, failing to yield the sidewalk, or looking someone in the eye. Which is why I don't find the continued investigation into Trayvon Martin's various misdemeanors helpful. It's like we keep trying to come up with a sum of offenses that make it OK that he's dead.

Well, maybe it is helpful. Decide for yourself, does walking around a gated community + hoodie + marijuana use + school problems = put him down like a rabid dog? I'm going to be even meaner and say that if Martin was beating George Zimmerman up he still shouldn't have been shot. If someone is punching you in a populated area, you yell. You or someone else calls the cops and the perp is taken to jail. Everybody survives the encounter. Even people who bug the crap out of each other.

What did you see today?

I saw a lack of capitalization

Context
I did New Staff Orientations for five new library employees today. Part of the orientation is filling out a time sheet on the computer and printing it out to be turned in to payroll. Two of the students typed their names on the paysheet in all lower-case letters.

Commentary
When I saw my students not capitalizing their names, I had three progressively softer reactions:

1) This is bad grammar.

2) This is inappropriate grammar; i.e. there are some circumstances where lower case is OK for names, like for e-mail addresses or if you're e.e. cummings, but this is not one of them.

3) This is a stylistic choice that makes no difference in this context. After all, it wasn't going to keep anybody from getting paid or anything.

I think the fact that #3 was definitely true but I still had reactions #1 and #2 says something about me. Ah well, I notice stuff; that's my job.

So since I do notice, I wonder what typing your name in lower-case says about the students in question. Specifically, is it really a stylistic choice, or does the person not know any better? Actually, that second choice could be divided in two: does the person not know names are traditionally capitalized in English grammar (Yeesh! I hope not!) or do they not know how to capitalize on a computer (still sad, but not as sad)? From an educational standpoint, the answers to these questions are important. Ignorance requires a remedy, but stylistic choices can be the start of a student-teacher dialog on different modes of expression.

I'm reminded of when I taught in a minority-dominated high school in the late 1980s. We used to agonize over whether some of what we were teaching was tantamount to expecting students to deny their native cultures. Over time, I came to believe that my job was to offer the kids the tools to make an informed choice: if they chose to adopt the values and habits of the dominant culture, their lives might be enriched in some ways and impoverished in others. Either way, they go in with their eyes open. Which is always a good idea.

What did you see today?

I saw a discussion of repatriation attempts during the Holocaust

Context
I am reading the proceedings of Second Yad Vashem International Historical Conference in a volume entitled Rescue Attempts during the Holocaust. You can purchase this book through the Yad Vashem website, but I'm not sure how many mainstream booksellers have it. I got my copy at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. Currently I'm reading a report on attempts by President Roosevelt and others to repatriate European Jews during the Holocaust period. The only successful massive migration took place after the war, when Britain loosened restrictions on entering Palestine. Shortly thereafter, the state of Israel was born.

Commentary
I bought this book after touring the Holocaust Museum because frankly, I was depressed. For as long as I've been aware of the Shoah (the TV miniseries The Holocaust was my first exposure) the question has tortured me: why didn't anybody do anything? So I needed to cling to the idea that someone tried.

I didn't actually start reading the book until ten years later, which is probably a good thing. Notice that the title isn't "Successful Rescue Attempts during the Holocaust." It's interesting reading, but not exactly inspirational.

I find myself particularly puzzled by this chapter on repatriation, because it keeps being couched as a solution to the Jewish "problem". What I keep asking myself is, "How did this happen?" Germany (and Poland and Hungary, etc.) was the Jews' home; how did they become a "problem" that needed solving? The answer is as simple as it is chilling: they became a problem because the dominant culture decided they were. From that point on, no amount of "See here now, old fellow, you're being irrational," could save a single person from the concentration camps, so the rest of the world was forced to adopt the "solving the Jewish problem" approach.

Which brings me to the Palestinians. It is considered something of an internet truism that once you bring comparisons to Nazism into any argument you've lost it (quick capsule of this idea here), but I'm going to claim my right as an historian (B.A. 1987, Rice University) to say that no situation is ever completely unprecedented, and valid historical comparisons are educational regardless of the emotional content behind them. So, onward!

For various reasons, the state of Israel has decided that Palestinians are a problem and that they don't want them anywhere near Israeli citizens. This is remarkably similar to the early rhetoric the Nazi regime used about the Jews.

Just to be clear, here's what I'm not saying: I don't believe the Israelis have any intention of sending the Palestinians to concentration camps and exterminating them. I'm also not saying that Israel doesn't have legitimate security concerns about at least some of the Palestinians living in their midst.

But here's what I am saying: if you time-warped a person from the Warsaw ghetto to some of areas Palestinians live in today, he/she would see some points of commonality. I'm also saying this: very few people start off intending to be an oppressor. They start off defending themselves from a perceived threat. From there it takes very few steps to decide that it's appropriate to do whatever you have to in order to "solve your problem."

What did you see today?

I saw an older European-American man driving poorly

Context
In Shreveport, I-20 West has an off ramp that merges into northbound Common Street. As I was traveling north on Common this morning, one of the cars on this ramp failed to yield to oncoming traffic like it was supposed to. When I looked at the driver of the vehicle, I saw that he was an older European-American, and that he was looking down at the seat next to him rather than watching where he was going. I said "Sir!" in an exasperated tone as I swerved around him. At least one of the cars behind me, which had to swerve even more, honked at him.

Commentary
My theories as to what happened with the guy this morning all center around him not realizing he was sliding into traffic. In other words, he thought he had a moment or two to glance at his papers or his phone or whatever before he would have to pay attention to other cars, but he didn't. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about white privilege.

I am not a road-ragey type. This is one of the few areas in my life where I actually hew pretty closely to the Quaker peace testimony. I do not honk my horn in anger, only in warning or greeting. When my fellow drivers do something irritating, I usually just say or yell something in the privacy of my own vehicle and it usually isn't even profane or insulting. Something along the lines of "C'mon!" or "Seriously?" If I'm particularly irked I'll emulate my dad, who used to say "Well, friend . . . " in a very sarcastic tone. This is pretty funny in light of the fact that my dad was not a Quaker but a Baptist, but I digress.

However, I don't recall ever saying "Sir" before. Now maybe it's just because I live in Louisiana, where "yes, sir" and "no ma'am" have been codified into law. But I don't think so. I think it's because the driver was older than me, which definitely does deserve some respect, and because he was white and male, which doesn't necessarily.

So I guess my new mandate in the fight for equality is to refer to every bad driver, without prejudice, as sir or ma'am. Wish me luck!

What did you see today?

I saw a cartoon

Context
Carolyn Hax writes a daily advice column for the Washington Post called "Tell Me About It." It's a daily column, but the Shreveport Times only carries it on Sundays. Yesterday, they printed the Friday column, which you can find at this link (may require registration). The column usually has a cartoon, not done by Carolyn herself, that summarizes the problem being described.

Commentary
Yes, despite my stated objections to registering for the Washington Post, I actually broke down and did so for the purpose of bringing you the link posted above. I hope you're happy.

Actually, I'm happy because now that I've found out that Carolyn writes every day, I'll probably be reading her every day. I like advice columns in general and I'm particularly fond of Carolyn's because I think she takes a very straightforward approach to problem-solving.

But I wanted to talk about the cartoon. If you're not able to look at the link, you'll have to take my word for the fact that it seems to depict two African-American characters. Carolyn herself is European-American and I have no idea of the racial identity of the advice-seeker in question. In fact, the characters in the cartoons on Tell Me About It seem to regularly cycle through the physical characteristics of various races and that got me to wondering if that actually helps people of different ethnicities identify with the advice Carolyn gives.

To be fair, it seems to be a general assumption that we make. When deciding issues as varied as who to cast in a TV show and whether to celebrate Black History Month, some consideration is given to the idea that people need to see someone who looks like them in order to identify with them.

But is this really true? I don't think it is for me. I'm more likely to identify with someone who has the same personality characteristics I do than someone who looks like me. Here's an example: Stephen King's book The Stand has twelve main characters (and dozens of minor ones, but I digress), three of whom are female and to my very picky standards quite well-written. I don't identify with any of them. Instead I identify with three of the male characters, one because he's a constant screw-up (Peter is my patron saint), one because of the challenges he has to surmount to achieve his destiny, and one because he's an intellectual.

My Quaker meeting, which has no African-American attenders, invited several black women to come talk to us a couple of years ago about ending racism. What I remember most clearly from the discussion was one lady saying she was dismayed that teachers at her son's school thought he wouldn't be interested in certain activities because he'd be the only black kid in attendance. Since then I've resolved to never make assumptions about a person's preferences based on their physical appearance. There may be some cultural characteristics that many black people share, but I think we go seriously astray if we assert that all people with dark skin identify with all of them. Our choices aren't based on how we look; they're based on who we are.

What did you see today?

I saw descriptions of barred patrons

Context
We sometimes bar people from entering our library. I was looking over the descriptions of these patrons today and many of them included the following: black male; black hair; brown eyes.

Commentary
Why yes, I am going to talk about racism today but perhaps not in the fashion you're expecting. As I read these descriptions today I was trying to figure out if it's redundant to say "black male" and "black hair and brown eyes," given that these characteristics are true of the vast majority of black males. Not all, of course, but many. On the other hand, when you're giving a description of someone it's a bad idea to make any assumptions.

Which brings me to something we frequently talk about when discussing racism: the belief that all black people look alike to white people. This isn't strictly true of me, but it is true that I often have trouble distinguishing between people who have chocolate-colored skin and black hair.

I'm not being disingenuous. I don't know if it's because I'm white or I was raised wrong or I have weird cultural touchstones, but when I first meet people the first physical characteristics I look at are skin color, hair color, age, height and weight. And by "age, height and weight" I mean "relative to me." So I have found myself in the situation where I met two dark-skinned ladies with black hair who were taller, wider and older than me and was unable to distinguish them until I got to know them better. They also happened to be black. In my defense, as a person who teaches a lot of senior citizens, there are a number of light-skinned, grey-haired, older/shorter/thinner than me women I can't tell apart, either.

Certainly the situation becomes much less dire-looking if we remove the word "black" from the description of people we can't tell apart. In fact, is this a case where overgeneralization is running in the opposite direction? Is the problem that all black people look alike to me? Or is the problem that when two people with some similar characteristics look alike to me the assumption arises that I see all black people as being the same? Or worse, that all white people see all black people as being the same?

What did you see today?

I heard a co-worker lower her voice

Context
The Haynesville Shale is a potential rich source of natural gas that's being explored in several parishes in Northern Louisiana. As such, it has been the topic of quite a bit of conversation and controversy. One of my co-workers was talking today about a protest she's seen some people engaging in that has something to do with the Shale. She lowered her voice when mentioning that the protesters involved were black. I said, "hmm," to all her comments.

Commentary
When I say, "hmm," during a conversation, it usually means, "I think I disagree with what you're saying, and I'm deciding whether I should tell you that or not." I mean, some things are not worth arguing about and sometimes I have a relationship with someone that I don't want to mess up with controversy. People who know me well have just read those words and been overcome at the idea that I might possibly avoid an argument, but that's because I argue freely with people I'm close to.

The "lowering your voice to say someone is 'black'" phenomenon is not entirely new to me, but I never get used to it. I used to tease a woman at my husband's former church because she would do it when using "black" as part of a person's physical description. I would say, "you know, it's not embarrassing to be black!" I wonder if she did it because the way we refer to race has gone through so many permutations during her lifetime that she could never be sure she was being mannerly.

In today's case, however, I'm pretty sure I know why my co-worker was lowering her voice. She was doing it because she was saying something derogatory about the protesters and she thought one of the black people we work with might walk into the lunchroom and be offended. What I can't figure out is why she didn't think I would be offended. That's what my "hmm" meant in this case. Something along the lines of "I'm not particularly interested in the topic or tone of this conversation. Next time you feel like you have to lower your voice in order to say something to me, please feel free to to turn it all the way down."

What did you hear today?

I heard a Friend talk about community reaction.

Context
My Friends meeting in Texarkana tries to have a "Peace Out" every month. This involves going into the community and doing God's work. As we were brainstorming ideas for next month's Peace Out, we thought of several things that might benefit disadvantaged members of the African-American community. One Friend expressed concern that the beneficiaries might be resentful of "these white ladies" (and we all are) coming in where they're not wanted and doing stuff.

Commentary
I don't know if race influences actions more strongly in the South or if we're just more open about it at Quaker meeting, but the subject does seem to come up fairly regularly when we're talking about the Texarkana community. If I were to try to articulate the resentment my friend was concerned about, I think it might go something like this: "these white ladies have no idea what our lives are like, so it's not possible for them to lend a helping hand without judging us, trying to change us, and generally feeling superior to us. Therefore we don't want them around."

This reaction makes me think about Christianity (OK, a lot of things make me think about Christianity). Christians know that God in fact does judge us, wants us to change, and is superior to us. In the book of Job, God makes it pretty clear that He's unconcerned about our resentment (Start from chapter 38 and go from there. You'll get the idea). However, Jesus' incarnation seems to indicate God thought some empathy might be in order. Either that, or He was removing our last stupid excuse for not heeding His word: "you don't know what I'm going through, God. Your opinion doesn't count." Well, now He knows.

So where does that leave a group of white ladies working in an African-American community? Well, I don't think it's true that we have no idea what people's lives are like. We may not be in the same economic or social circumstances, but I think all of us have felt overwhelmed, oppressed, hopeless, unmotivated, and yes, resentful at some time in our lives. If we can offer the empathy that comes from knowing all of us need help sometimes, then perhaps we'll be doing more than just a good deed. We'll actually be furthering God's kingdom.

By the way, here's my favorite joke about empathy: never judge a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes. That way, when you judge him you'll be a mile away and you'll have his shoes!

What did you hear today?

I saw an article about the aftermath of a shooting

Context
I read a story on the CNN website today about a father's reaction to seeing his son's alleged killer in court. You can read the article here. It talks not only about the victim's father's hope for healing in the aftermath of tragedy, but also the great potential this young man had and the relative rarity of cross-racial gang violence in Los Angeles.

Commentary
I find myself dismayed that CNN felt like they had to tart up this story of one person killing another in order to make it interesting.

Perhaps I should clarify: I don't think any of the information included in the story was useless, irrelevant or false. As a pacifist, I find stories of reconciliation in the face of violence very uplifting. As an avid student of our social interactions with each other, I'm intrigued by the news that gang-banging tends to be a segregated activity. And I understand that news outlets are going to seek a little "human interest" in every story they report. A few personal details about the victim will keep us from treating this crime as just another statistic.

And therein lies the problem. Apparently it is possible for us to read about a human being fatally shooting another human being and find it neither compelling nor surprising. I'd like to believe that CNN is wrong about us and we would have cared without the extra details, but I don't. I don't know if we've gotten used to a certain amount of crime or if we've always been callous, but either way I think we've bartered away our capacity for outrage way too cheaply.

What did you see today?

I saw the mayor of Shreveport's title

Context
Shreve Memorial Library, where I work, has a Board of Control. Up until today, the Board's webpage hadn't been updated recently, so it still listed the privious mayor, who's white, as an ex oficio member. Now our current mayor, who's black, is on there instead. As per normal protocol, the mayor's "The Honorable" title is placed before his name on the page.

Commentary
Quakers have various testimonies that over the years have led to a general disregard for honorifics. Earlham College has a contemporary explanation of this practice about one-third of the way down this page.

Quakers have no creedal statements, but I generally follow most of my church's traditional teachings. Not this one, though. Lately I've felt compeled to start adding formal shows of respect to my interactions with others, rather than taking them away.

This inspiration came largely from a coworker I had shortly after I arrived in Shreveport, who expressed some dismay that a person had called her by her first name without her permission. In our current cultural context, I don't think she felt her obvious social superiority was not being acknowledged. No, the use of her first name made her feel denigrated because, in contrast to the person addressing her, she was a) female and b) over 50.

I've been using computers for 25 years and have gotten pretty good at least at the application side of things. I teach beginners' classes to senior citizens who have never touched a mouse. You'd better believe I call every one Mr. or Ms. as appropriate. I feel I owe it to them to show respect for everything they have achieved, especially since others have often made them feel stupid about not having this particular set of skills.

I also always call President Bush "President Bush." It is important for me to remind myself that even though I disagree with a person about 80% of the time, he is owed a certain amount of respect for having legally won two presidential elections. If you want to disagree with me about the "legally won" part, we can have a lengthy discussion, including a comparison to the "Compromise of 1876," some other time.

So what about Mayor Glover of Shreveport? He is such a confident guy that it's hard to picture anyone dissing him to his face, and impossible to imagine it bothering him. I also don't generally disagree with his policies. He's still going to get the "Mayor Glover" treatment from me every time, though. Shreveport is majority African-American, but this is the first time a black person has been elected mayor. Furthermore, it was quite a close election with some very unlovely black mayor=unsafe streets rhetoric being tossed around. At this point, I feel like as a white person I owe the entire African-American community an honorific.

What did you see today?

I saw someone staring into space

Context
I love to walk, both in order to get somewhere and just to wander around. Because I live in a small city in the South, I am accustomed to verbally greeting strangers that I meet in the street. Today I passed two African-American people at once and considered saying, "hey," but one of them was looking down and one was staring into space, so I just smiled and walked on.

Commentary
I didn't greet the two people because they seemed to be preoccupied, and I know I hate being interrupted when I'm doing something, even if the "something" is just engaging in deep thought. In other words, I'm obeying the Golden Rule as stated in Matthew 7:12, "do to others as you would have them do to you." And yet, I find myself disappointed in my actions.

First off, I'm struck by the fact that people have different values and personalities, so what I would have someone do might not be what another person wants. What if the person I passed was staring into space because she was too shy or scared to catch the eye of a stranger? I have boldness to spare, so if she wanted I could have picked up the slack by saying hello.

What worries me more is that sometimes what I would have people do is pathological. For example, to not acknowledge the existence of a fellow human being because I'm deep in thought about what to wear tomorrow indicates misplaced priorities. If someone indulges me in this, that person is enabling my sin, right?

I think there's a more applicable phrasing of the Golden Rule in Matthew, this one in chapter 22, verse 39: "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." This seems to be a more global statement. "Do unto others" has the feel of "examine the specific situation, do what you would want done to you, move on." "Love your neighbor" acknowledges what every parent (including our Heavenly Father) knows: sometimes what a person would have you do in a specfic situation can be short-sighted and harmful.

I think love sometimes has to look beyond the immediate situation and try to see what would truly be best for everyone involved. When two strangers give each other a friendly greeting, especially when they belong to different races, that can build community. I'm not saying that's necessarily the most important thing in the world, but I'm saying it's worth taking a little extra effort, a little extra love to explore. Heck, maybe I could have even started a conversation and found out what the lady I met was thinking so deeply about.

What did you see today?

I saw two African-American guys at my hotel.

Context
I’m attending the SirsiDynix Superconference, which is being held at the Gaylord Opryland Resort and Convention Center. Gaylord Opryland is a huge, enclosed facility with a hotel, shops, restaurants, a convention center, and even a river all under one roof. Or one skylight, if you will. I have seen very few African-Americans since I arrived.

Commentary
I always feel like there’s something wrong when I’m in a place that seems lily white. Some of that out-of-whack feeling may come from residing in Shreveport, which is predominantly African-American. However, I also grew up as a member of a racial minority in Mexico City, so I think being in the majority always makes me feel weird.

Yesterday, I would have told you that I was going completely the other way. It seemed like every black face I saw was causing a mental hiccup in me. “What are those people doing here? Are they supposed to be in the convention area?” So, two days away from Shreveport and I become a total racist.

It’s not that simple, though. I had no qualms at all about the two African-American guys I saw today. They were middle-aged, professionally dressed, and out and about pretty early in the morning. In other words, even though they weren’t wearing the seemingly ubiquitous name badges, they looked like they were at a convention. And now that I think about it, I was pretty uncertain about the white kids in the baggy shorts I saw yesterday, too.

The idea that in the United States we are more culturalist than racist is not a new one, but it’s often unpopular. Bill Cosby was quickly criticized for daring to suggest that some African-Americans might actually be bringing negative reactions on themselves by their language and dress. But I’m wondering if we have reached a place that was unanticipated by Dr. King, where people are not judged by the color of their skin or the content of their character, but by the length of their pants and the size of their vocabulary.

I’m not saying this is a morally superior criterion for prejudice, but it is a different one. Without the use of heavy makeup, you have no control over your racial identity. Usually, however, you can control your speech patterns and your fashion choices. Here are some questions I think we all struggle with: How much am I willing to change in order to not trigger the prejudices of people like employers, family members, and random passers-by on the street? How much is it up to them to change instead?

What did you see today?