A Simple Test

We're going to do a test.  Get a piece of paper and something to write with, or just open up a new Word document.  Once you're ready and without hovering to see the URL, click on the link below and write down the first five words that come to your mind.  Don't think--just react and write.

Click here when you're ready.

After you've written down your five words, start reading after the jump to find out why I asked you to do this.

For What It's Worth

My wife got me a copy of Ta-Nehisi Coates's book The Beautiful Struggle for Christmas and I finished it in about 48 hours. It's a great book, and portrays Coates's rough upbringing in West Baltimore through a poetic filter that really helps anyone (even a white kid from Montgomery County) relate to his story.

The book got me thinking about a lot of things, but one passage in particular really hit home:

"Nowadays, I cut on the tube and see the dumbfounded looks, when over some minor violation of name and respect, a black boy is found leaking on the street. The anchors shake their heads. The activists give their stupid speeches, praising mythical days when all disputes were handled down at Ray's Gym. Politicians step up to the mic, claim the young have gone mad, their brains infected, and turned superpredator. Fuck you all who've ever spoken so foolishly, who've opened your mouths like we don't know what this is. We have read the books you own, the scorecards you keep -- done the math and emerged prophetic. We know how we will die -- with cousins in double murder suicides, in wars that are mere theory to you, convalescing in hospitals, slowly choked out by angina and cholesterol. We are the walking lowest rung, and all that stands between us and beast, between us and the local zoo, is respect, the respect you take as natural as sugar and shit. We know what we are, that we walk like we are not long for this world, that this world has never longed for us."

At this point in the book, Coates was about to be in yet another fight, but would find himself overcome by the urge to fight back, the opposite of the clumsy and often unsuccessful escapes he had attempted in the past.

Growing up, Coates didn't only reject the attractions of the street because he feared them; he simply felt that he wasn't made for that world, and avoided it whenever possible. His father forced him to read as much as possible and kept his schedule full. Coates preferred Dungeons and Dragons to the ebb and flow of turf wars and pushing product. But just like everyone else growing up around him Coates had to maintain the appearance of someone who wasn't soft to prevent unwanted attention. The quote above and the ensuing fight are the first time that Coates really lets his frustration show through the filters he eloquently placed over the rest of the story. Though I grew up far from Coates's neighborhood and never came close to the hardship he experienced, I was able to relate to the feelings Coates laid bare.

I've always striven to help others. I briefly taught in two Baltimore public schools and education is the focus of my current job. I did plenty of service projects in high school and college, many of which brought me face to face with addicts, criminals, or homeless people. Throughout all of these experiences, my parents and teachers constantly reminded me of the importance of empathy. People should be treated with respect. No matter what they look like, which chemicals they lust after, which crimes they've committed, or what kind of environment they live in, people deserve your full attention when they talk to you and eye contact when you interact.

The necessity of that last sentence embarrasses me, but I feel people need to be reminded of that.

Friends and family know that I like to discuss politics, and race relations has always been a point of particular interest to me. Starting in eighth grade, I made a point to become well-versed in the similarities, differences, and connections between the white and black experience in America and today I feel, perhaps incorrectly, that I have a good sense of the troubles that continue to plague those around me.

Unfortunately, unless I'm citing a statistic, I find that using this knowledge often garners skepticism, disdain, or confusion from my audience. People who hear me speak with confidence about "black" things can't seem to wrap their heads around the idea that I'm not an Africana Studies major who wears a dashiki to bed and plays a djembe when nobody's watching. I've all but resigned myself to the fact that using what I know about the black community's ails will most likely never be seen as fully authentic because I'm white, and didn't experience these problems firsthand. I will always be treated as either insincere or trying to "be black." This is where my feelings intersect with Coates's in the quoted passage.

It infuriates me. The complete and total lack of empathy towards people who face the threat of injury or death every day for going about their business. The discussions about them as if they're a dehumanized group of faceless bodies who have chained themselves to the ghettos for the sake of pride. You may hear about what happens in the places you avoid on the news, but you don't know, and most people don't even try to understand. I understand why Coates was so angry.

We may not say it out loud, but Obama's election convinced many of us that, as a country, we are officially beyond racism's evil reach. In a time when racism is becoming a dirty word, fit only for those who wear hoods and burn crosses, it is imperative that anyone with the ability to convey important stories be taken seriously, regardless of their background. We will never be able to pay proper dues for the horrors imposed on the tribes that were here before the Europeans, or the slaves brought here for hundreds of years, but until we empathize with the struggles facing the less fortunate, we will be doomed to pursue a limited national success that, by its nature, prevents many members of our society from sharing in the prosperity.

We Won't Get It

Reading things like this does two things to me:

1 - It blows my mind.

2 - It reminds me of why I get so angry when I hear people doing things like this. Or this. Or this. Or defending this. Or saying this.

There are people alive today who dealt with Jim Crow as they grew up, but because we're almost 150 years past the end of slavery, we're far enough removed from the days of whippings, plantations, and the underground railroad to be sensitive about it. At least that's the message I get when I hear people use the word nigger, or see them sport the confederate flag for the sake of "heritage." I cringe because it shows how little we, as a country, understand the magnitude of slavery's brutality. I don't think we'll ever be able to fully appreciate the magnitude of its effects. Consider that for more than half its existence, the economy of the United States depended on the abuse and oppression of millions of people.

Many of the people who do the aforementioned things are not racist at their core. Many of them honestly don't think there's anything wrong with what they do, and they often do not mean any harm. But this is no excuse. By utilizing these provocative symbols in a modern context, people show a remarkable callousness towards the incredible damage done to our country as a result of slavery's existence. Furthermore, by trying to save or redeem these symbols, we prevent ourselves from coming to a very logical conclusion: there are ways to remember the sinister aspects of our history without forcing the acceptance of tainted symbols and ideas into our modern culture.

We don't lose anything by dropping these symbols from our everyday lives. People should leave these sordid cultural artifacts where they belong: in museums.

The Lunatic is in the Hall...

This post from Andrew Sullivan over at the Atlantic deserves to be read.

He and Ta-Nehisi Coates are two of my favorite bloggers. They're highly recommended.

Time Travel Exists!

It must, because tonight feels like it's straight out of 1955. This stuff still happens. I'm always surprised by things like this, and then I think about them for more than 5 minutes, and the surprise is reluctantly replaced by a sense of resignation.

The fact that Keith Bardwell managed to say "I'm not a racist. I just don't believe in mixing the races that way," and not have his brain explode is both amazing and a little disappointing. The most aggravating thing about this is that the only reason he'll get in trouble is for ignoring his responsibilities as a justice of the peace. There are private racists who espouse far more dangerous rhetoric in their homes and among friends, but never carry it into the public arena. In your face, First Amendment. Hopefully, Keith Bardwell will suffer consequences and be removed from office immediately.

For context, here are the parts where he's quoted or referenced in the AP article:

“I'm not a racist. I just don't believe in mixing the races that way," Bardwell told the Associated Press on Thursday. "I have piles and piles of black friends. They come to my home, I marry them, they use my bathroom. I treat them just like everyone else."

Bardwell said he asks everyone who calls about marriage if they are a mixed race couple. If they are, he does not marry them, he said.

Bardwell said he has discussed the topic with blacks and whites, along with witnessing some interracial marriages. He came to the conclusion that most of black society does not readily accept offspring of such relationships, and neither does white society, he said.

"There is a problem with both groups accepting a child from such a marriage," Bardwell said. "I think those children suffer and I won't help put them through it."

If he did an interracial marriage for one couple, he must do the same for all, he said.

"I try to treat everyone equally," he said.

"I've been a justice of the peace for 34 years and I don't think I've mistreated anybody," Bardwell said. "I've made some mistakes, but you have too. I didn't tell this couple they couldn't get married. I just told them I wouldn't do it."

I added the bold formatting to the quotes because I think those portions add up to something very important (but also fairly obvious) about the way Americans discuss race: he obviously believes that he's doing the right thing. Since Americans associate the term racist with burning crosses and hooded thugs, anything less than a lynching isn't racism, and therefore Bardwell or those who hold similar ideas aren't racists. To Bardwell (and many others), the incompatibility of black and white people in a romantic context is a simple fact of life that can bring all kinds of trouble to those foolish enough to get involved in an interracial relationship (in Lousiana). After all, he's just trying prevent the suffering of biracial children.

By attributing his actions to observation and discussion with an unknown audience (how much variety of opinion can there be in Tangipahoa Parish?), Bardwell shows that this is clearly a personal (or local) ideal that somehow managed to trump the basic consitutional rights of American citizens that went to him for assistance.

It is still rare that blacks and whites are involved in interracial marriages, but that doesn't mean that Bardwell's points have any merit.

Racism, Cops, and Americans

Coverage of the Henry Louis Gates incident morphed, within mere days, from general statements about the situation that unfolded between Gates and Officer Crowley, to asinine commentary about what beers were or were not chosen for the meeting at the White House. I'd say it's unbelievable, but... this is America, and apparently anything is fair game.

While President Obama tried to turn the incident into something that people could understand a little easier than soundbites or tidbits of a police report, it seems that the public quickly made up its mind about what happened. Half of the country jumped on Obama for saying that the police "acted stupidly", while the other half cried "Racism!". The most telling part of this whole scenario is that while race might have played a part in what happened on Professor Gates's doorstep, nobody really bothered to think about what they might have done, or for that matter, what actually happened.

Let's be clear: Once it was determined that Mr. Gates lived in the house, it was the officer's duty to either ensure that Gates safely got into the house, or turn around and walk away. Instead, the scene escalated, and before long, Gates was (allegedly) yelling about Officer Crowley's mama, and Crowley was helping to handcuff the professor. Furthermore, I think both parties share an equal amount of responsibility (blame?) for what happened. The police officer showed up with vague information from a 911 call made by a cautious passerby. The professor stoked the situation by being belligerent. Interesting sidenote: the police report adds a few details that the 911 caller considers inaccurate.

The furor that engulfed the country immediately following the events in Cambridge boggled my mind. People seemed to be much more interested in talking and gauging the reaction of a new president than with considering the facts and their own feelings on the matter. Dialogue is difficult when everyone is talking, and understanding is impossible. Little by little, America seemed to revert to decades past when it talked about the Gates incident.

For me, the bottom line is that America has managed to convince itself that racism is a thing of the past, while reality rears its ugly head in the form of national headlines every 6-12 months. When we have cops telling people that the responsibility for not getting shot lies on the shoulders of those being confronted by police, it becomes clear that the country is still ankle-deep in the muck. Both Gates and Crowley were stubborn and impulsive during their altercation, but the national "dialogue" that followed is what really made the incident shameful.

The Active Youth Myth and Gatesgate

I've finally returned after a 16-day hiatus which completely shattered my goal of writing every day for 30 days. Thanks to all for your patience! A wife, son, job, and house to take care of sometimes take precedent over the internet. Sometimes. This won't be a full post, but more of a teaser for the posts I intend to write this week. Feel free to comment on this post in an attempt to tease back.

My first post will discuss what I consider to be a rather pervasive (but unsubstantiated) myth about political activism among the 18-24 age bracket. Oddly enough, the subject came to as I drove back to Baltimore this evening. I rediscovered my copy of John Mayer's album Continuum (which is one of the most finely recorded, composed, and performed records of the last 5 years), and put it on for some easy listening. The first track, titled "Waiting on the World to Change", is an unusually political song for Mayer, but it addresses a lot of what I'll write about in more detail later: the 18-24 age bracket has some of the most staunch opinions about contemporary issues, yet young adults tend to be the least politically active age group in the country. Why the myth when the disconnect seems so obvious? More importantly, why is this apathy allowed to slide, especially when it is supported by ridiculous arguments like the one Mayer makes: "We just don't feel like we have the means to rise above and beat it"?

Next up will be my take on the media storm surrounding Gatesgate. President Obama's short and simple answer to a simple question at the end of his press conference the other night completely overshadowed the major points he made on health care. I'll go over what is known about what happened in Cambridge between Mr. Gates and the police, and why the issue is important even though it doesn't seem to have any long-term consequences for the general public.

Thanks again for being patient while I fulfill my duties outside of the blogosphere. Comments made to this post by Tuesday evening will almost certainly be considered as I write my full posts on the subjects described above, so let loose!