The dog days of summer are here.
When I was a kid, I always thought the summer was a loss if I didn't get a chance to go swimming at least one time. It could be at a beach, a water park or some friend's house, but if I didn't get a chance to do at least one underwater handstand I was pissed.
I remember I spent one summer at this camp that took us swimming once or twice a week at this big public pool near City Park in New Orleans. I think it was near City Park at least, but I can't be certain because as a child all I cared about was that we were going to a pool. Anyway, a whole gang of little black kids would jump in that pool and swim and piss until their hearts were content.
Yeah, I said piss because you know we did not get out of the pool when it's time to handle our business. In fact, somebody actually left another kind of surprise in the pool one day, and I distinctly remember most of us stayed in the water even as that nasty turd floated by. It was like a nasty game of tag trying to avoid that sucker.
But I digress.
During my summer sojourns to swimming holes, I was often one of the few kids in attendance that could swim pretty well. I wasn't the black Michael Phelps, but I had a passable freestyle stroke, I could tread water and I knew how to float on my back. Most black kids seemed to barely be able to dog paddle, and anytime they ventured into the deep end of the pool they were clinging to the side of the pool like it was their momma.
I thought about all those kids recently when I read an interesting article in the New York Times about black people and swimming. Apparently, black children are far more likely than white children to die while swimming. Of course, this could be due to the fact that there are very few swimming pools or structured swimming programs in the 'hood, but the article also offered another more insidious reason.
Slavery.
I'm serious. The article said that many Africans knew how to swim before they came to America, but once they got here, they were prevented from teaching their children the skill because it was seen as a boon to those slaves seeking to escape. That makes sense because a slave who could swim could more effectively use rivers and creeks to avoid bloodhounds, which wouldn't be good for master's bottom line.
Anyway, after slaves were prevented from learning to swim, white folks then started the myth that black people couldn't swim because their bodies weren't made for the water. Once slavery ended, black children were barred from sharing swimming pools or swimming programs with white children because it was believed that they would contaminate the water. Basically slavery got the ball rolling and then Jim Crow made sure it turned into an avalanche.
Typical.
You know, the longer I live the more I realize how much work it's going to take for black people to overcome our past in this country. The layers of injustice buried beneath America's soil are still contaminating so many aspects of our lives. If hatred and discrimination were pollution, America would be completely uninhabitable. We as a people not only have to overcome the normal foibles of being human, but we have to overcome a massive system designed to deny us opportunity and advancement that the larger society has never truly admitted exists.
It's amazing that any of us can tread water, let alone win races.
Pay Attention
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Golden Oldies
Sometimes when I talk with older people I'm just in awe.
I love hearing them talk about how their lives have changed over the years. I mean, some of these people have seen the invention of television, computers, cell phones and a host of other technological marvels. Shoot, I still trip on how much the world has changed since the 1980s, it would be mindboggling if I could remember as far back as the 1940s or 1950s.
When I first started working, I was so overwhelmed by the daily grind that I used to envy older people who were already at retirement age. It seemed like their lives were simpler and easier. Of course, I was way off base with those sentiments, but I point that out to note that I've always respected and envied older people for what they have seen and accomplished. Longevity in life is a gift.
However, I've never envied older people when it came to racial issues.
It has got to be confusing to have lived through this country's racial past and find yourself in today's "post-racial" society. Just the difference in acceptable terminology must be difficult for a lot of folks to grasp, let alone all the new rules about what is and is not acceptable behavior.
I read this story the other day about the Mayor in Oakland using the phrase "nigger shooter" instead of "slingshot" when advising some residents of her town on how to get rid of chickens running loose through their neighborhood.
A couple years back, this lady here in New Orleans lost a contract with the city because she used the phrase "nigger-rigged" to describe some lights that were in poor condition in a city office.
In both incidents the women who made the offensive comments were older white women, and both women played the "I have black friends I can't be racist" card.
Now, a regular reader of this blog might assume that I believe these women got what they deserved, and to a certain extent they did. After all, as the white mayor of a majority black city it would seem like a basic job qualification that you know that using the word nigger in any form is unacceptable. And the woman who was fired here in majority black New Orleans handled public relations for the city so she also should have been aware of the problems with the word nigger.
But, I felt kind of sorry for these women and people in their age bracket because when they were growing up terms like "nigger-rigged" and "nigger shooter" were perfectly acceptable parts of American culture. People called jawbreakers "nigger balls" and they called Brazilian nuts "nigger toes." Anything hard, shoddy or tough typically had the word nigger as part of its nickname.
That was just life.
I'm sure black folks didn't like it back then and I don't like it now. However, I feel like it sort of sucks that all these older people who were raised to think and speak one way are now being asked to change their habits on the fly. Even worse, when they slip up, they get fired or get censured. It seems a little unfair.
When I was a kid, whenever we considered something wack or lame we said it was "gay." We also called all Asians "gooks" and called every Latino a "mexican." These actions were offensive and as I got older I stopped doing them. But, it took a lot of effort on my part to break those habits, and I still slip up when it comes to the use of the word "gay."
My own failings make it hard for me to look too harshly on older people who retain bad habits from their youth, particularly if those habits are related to offensive phrases.
I believe that if people are willing to acknowledge that their comments are no longer acceptable in today's world, and then attempt to remove certain phrases from their vocabulary, then they should be cut some slack when they slip up. As long as they seem to be making an honest effort, I'm ok with that.
Sometimes old people can't help themselves.
Ask John McCain.
I love hearing them talk about how their lives have changed over the years. I mean, some of these people have seen the invention of television, computers, cell phones and a host of other technological marvels. Shoot, I still trip on how much the world has changed since the 1980s, it would be mindboggling if I could remember as far back as the 1940s or 1950s.
When I first started working, I was so overwhelmed by the daily grind that I used to envy older people who were already at retirement age. It seemed like their lives were simpler and easier. Of course, I was way off base with those sentiments, but I point that out to note that I've always respected and envied older people for what they have seen and accomplished. Longevity in life is a gift.
However, I've never envied older people when it came to racial issues.
It has got to be confusing to have lived through this country's racial past and find yourself in today's "post-racial" society. Just the difference in acceptable terminology must be difficult for a lot of folks to grasp, let alone all the new rules about what is and is not acceptable behavior.
I read this story the other day about the Mayor in Oakland using the phrase "nigger shooter" instead of "slingshot" when advising some residents of her town on how to get rid of chickens running loose through their neighborhood.
A couple years back, this lady here in New Orleans lost a contract with the city because she used the phrase "nigger-rigged" to describe some lights that were in poor condition in a city office.
In both incidents the women who made the offensive comments were older white women, and both women played the "I have black friends I can't be racist" card.
Now, a regular reader of this blog might assume that I believe these women got what they deserved, and to a certain extent they did. After all, as the white mayor of a majority black city it would seem like a basic job qualification that you know that using the word nigger in any form is unacceptable. And the woman who was fired here in majority black New Orleans handled public relations for the city so she also should have been aware of the problems with the word nigger.
But, I felt kind of sorry for these women and people in their age bracket because when they were growing up terms like "nigger-rigged" and "nigger shooter" were perfectly acceptable parts of American culture. People called jawbreakers "nigger balls" and they called Brazilian nuts "nigger toes." Anything hard, shoddy or tough typically had the word nigger as part of its nickname.
That was just life.
I'm sure black folks didn't like it back then and I don't like it now. However, I feel like it sort of sucks that all these older people who were raised to think and speak one way are now being asked to change their habits on the fly. Even worse, when they slip up, they get fired or get censured. It seems a little unfair.
When I was a kid, whenever we considered something wack or lame we said it was "gay." We also called all Asians "gooks" and called every Latino a "mexican." These actions were offensive and as I got older I stopped doing them. But, it took a lot of effort on my part to break those habits, and I still slip up when it comes to the use of the word "gay."
My own failings make it hard for me to look too harshly on older people who retain bad habits from their youth, particularly if those habits are related to offensive phrases.
I believe that if people are willing to acknowledge that their comments are no longer acceptable in today's world, and then attempt to remove certain phrases from their vocabulary, then they should be cut some slack when they slip up. As long as they seem to be making an honest effort, I'm ok with that.
Sometimes old people can't help themselves.
Ask John McCain.
Monday, August 11, 2008
The Joke's on You
Last week I had a conversation that reminded me why I cut back on trying to correct racist mindsets in regular people.
That may take some of y'all by surprise considering I have this entire blog that appears dedicated to discussing race and racism each and every day. As some readers have noted, I possess a special ability to find the racial angle on any event. More importantly, I use that skill the way Lil Kim uses plastic surgery, liberally.
However, in my private life, I've really cut back on my attempts to cure people of their racism infection. That may sound cowardly to some of you--isn't it typical of a blogger to be big and bold behind a computer screen but punk out when it comes to real work--but I had to stop trying to be Captain Save A Racist because it was making me crazy.
The folks that really drove me to be more selective in my battles were the comedians. Not real comedians though, I'm talking about the amateurs. Those folks that love to use a snarky comment or mildly humorous joke to re-direct conversations about race. The kind of person who would interrupt a discussion about the hypocrisy of the Founding Father's stance on slavery with a joke about how Thomas Jefferson couldn't have been a racist because he loved him some black women.
See what I mean?
To be clear, I think that you need a sense of humor to discuss racism. The disease makes human beings behave so illogically that if you can't laugh at other people's stupidity you will soon find yourself sobbing on your bathroom floor unable to leave the house. You don't want to be there because that bathroom tile is cold and it smells like pee.
Humor is wonderful, it's just not something I want to deal with when I'm trying to have a serious conversation about one of the most difficult topics in the world. Many of these amateur comedians genuinely believe that their humor makes it easier for people to deal with the truth. They might compare their jokes to the peppermint your mother gave you just before she forced you to swallow a big tablespoon of castor oil; just a little something sweet to help the medicine go down.
They are wrong.
See, if I'm listening to someone explain to me the horror of rape, I don't need some jokester chiming in about how "everybody needs love." If a homosexual is explaining to me just how painful it is to hear somebody use the word faggot, I'm not expecting that person to lighten the mood with a joke about Project Runway. When people are discussing serious topics, I expect them to be serious. I don't expect them to sugarcoat the conversation so I can feel more comfortable learning what the world is really like.
Hard truths are called hard truths for a reason.
I know that those of us who discuss racism and discrimination have to constantly remind ourselves not to become annoying caricatures. At times I do temper my message to appeal to a wider audience, but it's important that I make that choice instead of someone making it for me.
I don't need anyone else deciding that the conversation I'm trying to have is too serious and then interjecting some random humor. Not only is that decision arrogant, but in many cases it totally ruins important conversations. Once people think it's "joke time" they have a tendency to stop paying attention, which means they don't get the information I'm trying to impart. In fact, I suspect that many folks interject humor not to lighten the mood, but because it's a passive aggressive way to end a conversation.
That's just not funny.
That may take some of y'all by surprise considering I have this entire blog that appears dedicated to discussing race and racism each and every day. As some readers have noted, I possess a special ability to find the racial angle on any event. More importantly, I use that skill the way Lil Kim uses plastic surgery, liberally.
However, in my private life, I've really cut back on my attempts to cure people of their racism infection. That may sound cowardly to some of you--isn't it typical of a blogger to be big and bold behind a computer screen but punk out when it comes to real work--but I had to stop trying to be Captain Save A Racist because it was making me crazy.
The folks that really drove me to be more selective in my battles were the comedians. Not real comedians though, I'm talking about the amateurs. Those folks that love to use a snarky comment or mildly humorous joke to re-direct conversations about race. The kind of person who would interrupt a discussion about the hypocrisy of the Founding Father's stance on slavery with a joke about how Thomas Jefferson couldn't have been a racist because he loved him some black women.
See what I mean?
To be clear, I think that you need a sense of humor to discuss racism. The disease makes human beings behave so illogically that if you can't laugh at other people's stupidity you will soon find yourself sobbing on your bathroom floor unable to leave the house. You don't want to be there because that bathroom tile is cold and it smells like pee.
Humor is wonderful, it's just not something I want to deal with when I'm trying to have a serious conversation about one of the most difficult topics in the world. Many of these amateur comedians genuinely believe that their humor makes it easier for people to deal with the truth. They might compare their jokes to the peppermint your mother gave you just before she forced you to swallow a big tablespoon of castor oil; just a little something sweet to help the medicine go down.
They are wrong.
See, if I'm listening to someone explain to me the horror of rape, I don't need some jokester chiming in about how "everybody needs love." If a homosexual is explaining to me just how painful it is to hear somebody use the word faggot, I'm not expecting that person to lighten the mood with a joke about Project Runway. When people are discussing serious topics, I expect them to be serious. I don't expect them to sugarcoat the conversation so I can feel more comfortable learning what the world is really like.
Hard truths are called hard truths for a reason.
I know that those of us who discuss racism and discrimination have to constantly remind ourselves not to become annoying caricatures. At times I do temper my message to appeal to a wider audience, but it's important that I make that choice instead of someone making it for me.
I don't need anyone else deciding that the conversation I'm trying to have is too serious and then interjecting some random humor. Not only is that decision arrogant, but in many cases it totally ruins important conversations. Once people think it's "joke time" they have a tendency to stop paying attention, which means they don't get the information I'm trying to impart. In fact, I suspect that many folks interject humor not to lighten the mood, but because it's a passive aggressive way to end a conversation.
That's just not funny.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Lighter Side of Life
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.
This whole political thing is getting old. So, today I've decided to write something a little less serious. My mind needs a rest from continual outrage.
Anyway, a while back I wrote about how black people with "black" names get shot down when looking for a job. Anybody who pays even a little bit of attention to black culture knows that many of us shy away from giving our kids common Anglo names like Becky, John or Brett. We prefer our names to have a little more kick, especially if that kick involves random capital letters, hyphens or phonetic spellings.
I'll confess that for a time I was a little ashamed of this proclivity among my people. I was one of those bougie suckers who couldn't understand why "those people" didn't give their kids "regular" names. I would roll my eyes or silently giggle when teachers or clerks mangled one of those creative names because I thought it served that person and their parents right.
Brainwashing is a horrible thing, y'all.
I've grown out of that mindset. And recently, I read an article that confirmed for me that unique names aren't a "black" thing or a "ghetto" thing. They are just a people thing.
The article I found,which y'all can read here, talks about a real problem in New Zealand where folks were giving their kids the most effed up names in the world. I mean, if you thought Mercedes, Porshe and Lexus were the holy trinity of tacky child names, you ain't seen nothing yet.
Man, a judge over there even legally changed the name of one girl whose parents had given her the unfortunate name of "Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii." The poor girl was so embarrassed by her name she just went by the name "K." Another set of parents had the nerve to name their child "Number 16 Bus Shelter." I'm guessing that's where the child was conceived because that seems to be the theme for most of the weird names.
These New Zealand names go way beyond anything black folks do with our names. One set of parents over there wanted to name their child "Sex Fruit." Being named Diamonds may put you on the fast track to stripper land, but I'm guessing that "Sex Fruit" fucks up your life infinitely more. Just, damn.
It's kind of unfair to your kids to give them a weird name. Not because of the racism or prejudice they might face, but because it just seems like an easy way to make their school life a living hell. Can you imagine the teasing a child named "Sex Fruit" would endure? Plus, a child with one of those long convoluted names is never going to be the teacher's pet because teachers will hate that child for making them look stupid every morning at roll call. You're screwing them two ways.
Anyway, I'm not going anywhere with this post, I just wanted to provide y'all with something curious that I stumbled over a long time ago and have been saving for just the right day.
Today was the day.
(Sidenote: Apparently our brothers and sisters in Africa are determined not to allow New Zealand to win this battle.)
This whole political thing is getting old. So, today I've decided to write something a little less serious. My mind needs a rest from continual outrage.
Anyway, a while back I wrote about how black people with "black" names get shot down when looking for a job. Anybody who pays even a little bit of attention to black culture knows that many of us shy away from giving our kids common Anglo names like Becky, John or Brett. We prefer our names to have a little more kick, especially if that kick involves random capital letters, hyphens or phonetic spellings.
I'll confess that for a time I was a little ashamed of this proclivity among my people. I was one of those bougie suckers who couldn't understand why "those people" didn't give their kids "regular" names. I would roll my eyes or silently giggle when teachers or clerks mangled one of those creative names because I thought it served that person and their parents right.
Brainwashing is a horrible thing, y'all.
I've grown out of that mindset. And recently, I read an article that confirmed for me that unique names aren't a "black" thing or a "ghetto" thing. They are just a people thing.
The article I found,which y'all can read here, talks about a real problem in New Zealand where folks were giving their kids the most effed up names in the world. I mean, if you thought Mercedes, Porshe and Lexus were the holy trinity of tacky child names, you ain't seen nothing yet.
Man, a judge over there even legally changed the name of one girl whose parents had given her the unfortunate name of "Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii." The poor girl was so embarrassed by her name she just went by the name "K." Another set of parents had the nerve to name their child "Number 16 Bus Shelter." I'm guessing that's where the child was conceived because that seems to be the theme for most of the weird names.
These New Zealand names go way beyond anything black folks do with our names. One set of parents over there wanted to name their child "Sex Fruit." Being named Diamonds may put you on the fast track to stripper land, but I'm guessing that "Sex Fruit" fucks up your life infinitely more. Just, damn.
It's kind of unfair to your kids to give them a weird name. Not because of the racism or prejudice they might face, but because it just seems like an easy way to make their school life a living hell. Can you imagine the teasing a child named "Sex Fruit" would endure? Plus, a child with one of those long convoluted names is never going to be the teacher's pet because teachers will hate that child for making them look stupid every morning at roll call. You're screwing them two ways.
Anyway, I'm not going anywhere with this post, I just wanted to provide y'all with something curious that I stumbled over a long time ago and have been saving for just the right day.
Today was the day.
(Sidenote: Apparently our brothers and sisters in Africa are determined not to allow New Zealand to win this battle.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
