Post-Sotomayor Resignation: Mel Martinez (ex-R, FL)

It’s very, very hard not to see the timing as a statement.  Not just against the Republican’s attempted debasement of Sotomayor, and by association the Hispanic narrative in America. Martínez’s move, too, can been seen as another accomplished person of color—following Colin Powell—flipping a metaphorical middle finger at all the Republicans have devolved into...

~That Minority Thing, on the resignation of Cuban-American Senator
Melquíades Rafael “Mel” Martínez

Are We Worried Yet?

Via PunditKitchen, http://cheezburger.com/view.aspx?ciid=4891508

I understand the impulse to make jokes about “crazed Right-wingers” ranting about Barack Obama being (a) Muslim (or, as the sign-maker above believes, “muslin”), (b) a socialist, (c) evil incarnate, and/or (d) a secret Black Panther bent on destroying the White race.

But are we worried yet?

I understand the snickers about the Birther movement, and the ridiculousness of fake Kenyan birth certificates. I barely resisted making my own Kenyan birth certificate. I chuckled at Sarah Palin’s Canadian birth certificate.

But—are we worried yet?

I know it is easy to see mistakenly-sent email rants and cartoons and poor puns and jokes as just further evidence of how stupid They can be (while we feel ever the elitists that They claim we have been all along)…as further proof about how much They and their Party are Out of Touch and Unraveling at the Seams.

But are we worried yet?

I understand that many of us my age do not recall the assassinations of the Kennedy brothers or of King or of others, being merely babes or toddlers. I realize that those of us younger than I am do not even have any memories of the failed assassination attempt against Ronald Reagan. And I, too, found comical the endlessly replayed clips of former President George W. Bush being nearly knocked upside the head with a shoe—not fully recognizing it as the vulnerability and security breach that it was. But tell me—

Are we worried yet?

I hear how expressing safety concerns about President Obama and his family can sound as irrational as the conspiracy theories claiming Obama was some sort of Manchurian candidate. I read the same article as you probably did stating that “Since Mr Obama took office, the rate of threats against the president has increased 400 per cent from the 3,000 a year or so under President George W. Bush….” And probably like you, after reading this I clicked on to other news, merely shaking my head in mild dismay with the smug satisfaction that such news did not surprise someone as smart and worldly as me. But just between you and me and our computer monitors,

are we worried yet?

I get that random acts of violence by deranged, troubled individuals would likely happen were Barack Obama president or not. I understand that whenever a marginalized group is perceived as succeeding, members of that group can be at even greater risk of backlash, of being scapegoated. I recall from history books how the combination of general economic hardship plus the perception of an inferior group getting special privileges, jumping their turn in line ahead of others more deserving—how all of this can turn fairly level headed people into mobs with a grudge and a target at which to aim their sense of loss, anger, and frustration.

Are we worried yet?

I remember the line from the bad guy in one of my favorite horror movies: “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” I remember how that was supposed to help him de-humanize in his mind his soon-to-be victim, make her Other, so that it would be easier for him to treat her as prey and not as a fellow human. I know how in times of war, soldiers give harsh degrading nicknames to the people they are fighting against, learn to see them not just as enemies, but as undeserving of compassion. And I know that on the other side of the front, the other soldiers have been trained to do the same thing. So,

are we worried yet?

I understand that what we still call the “news” business is all about ratings, about branding, about money, about theater. I understand that some of the hate that passes for talk is partly or fully artifice. I also have read stories about research on people who watch a lot of local news who then overestimate the prevalence of street violence. I believe in freedom of speech and that talking heads do not kill people– Believe, though it may surprise you, in the rights of private citizens to have and bear (some) arms, and that guns do not kill people. I know that people kill people. I also believe that hate speech contributes to a certain toxic environment in which violence can (and does) thrive, though. And that firearms make killing fast, easy, impersonal. And more efficient.

I know. I understand. I hear, read, and see. I am sure we all know, understand, hear, read, and see.

Are we worried yet, though?

Are we?

On the Past That Never Really Is

Meet Sam:

Sam has been an active racist his entire life.  For decades, he has called blacks demeaning names; he has written about their inferiority; he has threatened them and beaten them; he has attended lynchings.

Under great pressure from various acquaintances and friends, in his seventieth year of life, he stops using the “n” word and ends the explicit prohibition on hiring blacks at his factory.

Ten years later, however, his business still has an almost all white workforce, despite getting lots of black applications, and no managers.

Should we trust Sam that racial bias has nothing to do with the disparity?

If you are like me, despite hoping that Sam has changed, you are deeply skeptical.  A person carries his past with him, and it continues to shape his life—even when he genuinely believes he has left it far behind…. (Source)

"Folk Art-Uncle Sam." ChiaBart, http://www.flickr.com/photos/chicagobart/3695721176/

Meet Sam. Uncle Sam, USA…

iMix, reMix, we allMix for Mix “Tapes” (It’s the Old Blog Remix)

"Remember Cassette Tapes?" Erica_Marshall, http://www.flickr.com/photos/erica_marshall/2666112988/

Please enjoy this selection from my Old Blog.

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(Or, “I Was a Mix Tape Maniac”)

In between lit searches today I read this Salon story reviewing and commenting on a new book about the “demise” of the mixtape and “mixtape culture.”

I read this piece and my plush blue office chair immediately transformed into a way-back machine. Man-o-man…once was a time, I was a mix-tape maniac! I made mixtapes for all sorts of occasions: a three-month “going together” anniversary, my mother’s birthday, my sister’s high school graduation, a sampler for a high school buddy who had moved out to the west coast (to show her what music was jumping on the east coast).

And of course, for parties. And road trips. And for “archiving” my collection of LPs to the “new” cassette format.

…Maybe the golden age of mixtapes is over…

One of my all-time favorite recent albums (or, should I say “quote-unquote-albums” since I, of course, don’t own it on vinyl…) is Meshell Ndegeocello’s Cookie: The Anthropological Mixtape. I remember the first time I listened to it, getting that same blast of nostalgia: the album (er, CD) cover design, the splices of spoken word, and of course the title. So excited was I about this CD that I mixed some selections of it to accompany a final seminar paper in a graduate course on qualitative methodology: a mixtape of a mixtape for a mixed-product project that included this mix, a poem adapted from my email correspondence with the course prof, an “autoethnography” of my own thinking/planning process (this was before my blog days), the final paper, and a micro-cassette tape of my original interviews for the study the paper was based on.

…So. Maybe, for me at least, the days of the mixtape never ended…

(Did I mention?) I was a mixtape maniac. There truly was no joy like what I experienced following a tense couple of minutes of watching the last few inches of spooling strand of shiny brown wind through my player’s works, hoping I would still see brown for the whole of the last cut’s fade-out—then: YAY! The last lingering whisper (heard over earphones with the volume pumped way up to make sure I truly have the ABSOLUTE LAST FEW SECONDS CAPTURED) of the song, followed a split second later by the clear non-recording segment of end-tape….then…CLICK! The tape would suddenly stop winding and the “PLAY” and “RECORD” buttons on the player would snap back in line with the other buttons.

By contrast, there was nothing so depressing as seeing that clear tape and hearing that loud, final CLICK! just a moment shy of the fade-out. (There are a couple songs that even as I hear them now I can remember the precise point where an old mixtape cut out on them because they were the too-long last cut.)

I don’t know if it was an urban legend or not, but my friends and I actually used to share info about brands of cassette tape that routinely (we asserted) packaged their tape reels with slightly more tape than the 45 minutes, or 60 minutes, or 90 minutes that they were labeled as containing. At the most geeky mixtape point in my life, it wasn’t uncommon for me to spend more for a specific brand of high-end audiophile quality, imported blank tape than for the commercially pre-recorded cassettes that I would eventually raid for content…

By contrast, the last blank CDs I purchased came in a package of 100 for less than I previously spent for a two-pack of those high end blank tapes back in the day!

…Maybe CD mixes are not the same, after all…

Anyway. By adulthood—well, who had time for mixtapes and such things. I did not.

Well, except for when my husband was stationed in Bosnia.

I would routinely make him mixtapes of my favorite selections from the latest CDs (for they were CDs now, not prerecorded cassette tapes) that I had purchased from the Army base’s PX or from one of the German record stores in downtown Bamberg. (I always used to get a kick out of one store’s section labeled, in English but all together, German style “Blackmusic.”)

I remember one particular masterpiece I made for him: It was an eclectic and rare mix of Prince slow jams–And with these carefully-chosen selections I even included extensive liner notes which I composed myself.

But, as I said, what adult has time for such things? On a regular basis? And once that adult has parenthood duties to take up her time?

Well, since the birth of my iPod a while back I have–joyfully–rediscovered the art of the mixtape. I have made custom playlists for my daughters: One includes such diverse selections as The Wiggles’ “Hot Potato,” Julie Andrews’ “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” The Friends of Distinction’s “Grazing in the Grass,” and Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” I have made mixtapes for my husband that include songs he requested, as well as my own favorites of the moment. I recently made a mixtape for my (newly) teenaged nephew’s birthday (and, in doing so, discovered the challenge of finding truly “clean” versions of the latest songs).

And of course I have made mixtapes for myself.

Note that I am calling these playlists “mixtapes.” Unlike the more snob-ish author of the Salon piece, I see my iPod playlists as functionally equivalent to my mixtapes of old. For that matter, I see my cassette mixtapes of old as functionally equivalent to my father’s reel-to-reel party tapes from the early 70s—large, movie film-looking spools of tape on which he had recorded everything from Bill Withers to James Taylor to J. S. Bach.

Were my 80′s-era mixtapes any less labors of love because I never had to physically thread the tape over, under, and through a maze of drums and levers on my machine? Or use a razor to splice two ends of tape to make a longer piece? No.

Are my current iPod playlists any less labors of love because each cut was “recorded” with just a mouseclick or two? Anyone who thinks so obviously has not experienced the joy of wading through bytes and bytes of digital music to find that one elusive selection by that one band you might have heard on NPR or maybe on a BMW commercial or maybe from an album (a real one) you used to own 20 years ago…

…Or outsmarted the algorithmic random “shuffle” program to manually create the absolute most sublime order of songs on a playlist…

…Or played music producer and re-arranged the selections on a classic CD to the order it should have been all along…

No, mixtape culture is not “dead.” It’s alive, and well. Different—but alive and well. And perfectly suited to the lives of grown-up adults with jobs and kids and lives.

And with not nearly enough time to sit for hours and watch the spooling motion of inches and inches of tan magnetic tape.

CLICK!!

One more full week

…of being a Blogger of Leisure.

Yes. I got The Job. I am so, so psyched!

Obama’s Origins, Revealed

Obama was actually born in Tasmania where he was abandoned by his parents and was left there to be raised in the wild by a pack of Tasmanian wolves . He was then kidnapped by Somali pirates who had been blown off course. When they got to the East African coast, he jumped ship and ended up in Kenya where he was adopted by a white American mother and a black African father who were on a sight-seeing tour and big game safari. They then moved to Hawaii. Thinking that Barack might someday run for president, his adoptive parents decided it would be a prudent idea to fake his citizenship. They paid off local officials in Hawaii and got the newspaper in Honolulu to go into its old files (in the newspaper business these are called the “morgue’) and place a fake birth announcement in the paper. The rest is history. You could look it up. (Source: commenter “Big Easy,” July 28, 2009 at 10:18 AM)

~~~~~~~~~~

Recognizing and celebrating the 50th Anniversary of the entry of Hawaii into the Union as the 50th State.

Image credit: US Postal Service

Whereas August 21, 2009, marks the 50th Anniversary of President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s signing of Proclamation 3309, which admitted Hawaii into the Union in compliance with the Hawaii Admission Act, enacted by the United States Congress on March 18, 1959;

Whereas Hawaii is `a place like no other, with a people like no other’ and bridges the mainland United States to the Asia-Pacific region;

Whereas the 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama, was born in Hawaii;

Whereas Hawaii has contributed to the diversity of Congress in electing the first Native Hawaiian member of Congress, Prince Jonah Kuhio Kalaniana`ole, the first Asian-American member, Hiram Fong, the first woman of color, Patsy T. Mink, and the first Native Hawaiian to serve in the Senate, Daniel Kahikina Akaka;

Whereas Hawaii is an example to the rest of the world of unity and positive race relations;

Whereas Pearl Harbor is a strategic military base for the U.S. in the Pacific and also a historical site for the Nation, being the location of the December 7, 1941, surprise Japanese aerial attack that thrust the Nation into World War II;

Whereas Hawaii is home to 1/4 of the endangered species in the United States;

Whereas Hawaii has 8 national parks, which preserve volcanoes, complex ecosystems, a Hansen’s disease colony, and other sites of historical and cultural significance;

Whereas Kilauea ranks among the most active volcanoes on Earth;

Whereas President Bush nominated the Papahanaumokuakea Marine National Monument to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization World Heritage Centre for consideration to the World Heritage List;

Whereas Hawaii has produced musical legends ranging from traditional favorites such as Alfred Apaka, Don Ho, and Genoa Keawe, to Hawaii renaissance performers such as Eddie Kamae, Raymond Kane, Gabby Pahinui, Israel Kamakawiwo`ole, the Brothers Cazimero, and the Beamer Brothers, and continuing on to contemporary stars such as Keali`i Reichel, Ledward Kaapana, Jake Shimabukuro, and Raiatea Helm;

Whereas Hawaii is culturally rich, as the Hawaiian culture has been protected through Hawaiian language immersion schools, hula competitions such as the Merrie Monarch Festival, canoeing voyages undertaken by vessels like the Hokule`a, and the continuing historic preservation of Hawaiian traditions;

Whereas the Hawaii Statehood Commission has held a Joint Session of the Hawaii State Legislature in honor of statehood and will be celebrating this milestone with a public discussion and with the arrival of the USS Hawaii; and

Whereas for all of these reasons Hawaii is a truly unique State: Now, therefore, be it

Resolved, That the House of Representatives recognizes and celebrates the 50th Anniversary of the entry of Hawaii into the Union as the 50th State.

(Source; Unanimously approved by the US House of Representatives)

Closed for Scheduled Racism?

Seems everyone wants to “dialogue” these days:

Indiana Black Expo President Tanya Bell says dialogue between the non-profit organization and Downtown businesses is key to ensuring that events like “Summer Celebration” are a positive experience for guests and vendors.

I would think that bringing in from $30 million and $72 million annually would be a pretty big positive for most businesses downtown. Well, then, what a lousy time to schedule a closing for regular maintenance:

The 24-hour Downtown Steak ‘n Shake closed Friday night and Saturday night, peak nights of the Summer Celebration on July 17th and 18th, for “scheduled maintenance,” restaurant officials told The Star. The restaurant also closed last year during Expo’s peak nights.

President Bell hopefully will bring up this mystifying tidbit during her dialogs and conversations and whatnot:

Bell has not yet spoken with restaurant officials, but she says it’s hard to understand why a business would close when Downtown is bustling with potential patrons.

Well, if Expo patrons couldn’t have chocolate malts and a plateful of skinny fries, then at least they could indulge in some chicken wings:

“It was a boost to business,” said Tony Kwiatkowski, co-owner of the Buffalo Wild Wings on South Meridian Street. “This was our first summer being open, so we didn’t really know what to expect.”

Me and my crew considered Sn’S for a hot minute (not knowing they were in the midst of important maintenance duties) before deciding on a Micky D’s several blocks away from the Convention Center. The restaurant was very well-maintained.

(Source)

***Previous IBE post***

Random Acts of Forgiveness

You may already know of my struggle with forgiveness as a weapon of justice. Well, the whole aftermath of the President’s inserting himself in the Gates affair reminds me of an experience from many years past.

As I have mentioned, I was a child care services administrator on an Army base in Germany. Child care was extremely hard to come by. Finding enough spaces in family homes, the child care center, or youth services after school care for children of various ages—and for the days and times needed by their active duty servicemember parents—was challenging on good days and an exercise in high futility on bad days.

The staff member who took the initial requests for care from parents was in a particularly frustration-inducing position. She heard demands from both me and other administrators (WE DON’T HAVE ANY MORE OPEN SLOTS) and parents and their unit commanders (WE NEED A SLOT FOR THIS SOLDIER’S KIDS NOW).

She also had a fair amount of power. Someone who, for example, ticked her off could, hypothetically, just for the sake of argument have their application accidentally…misplaced…misdirected…shuffled to the bottom of the stack. She knew all the rules, all the potential pathways to care, and—as a member of the community in touch with local gossip—all the rumors of possible openings, change of duty stations for existing child care children’s parents, age-outs of kids in care moving onto elementary school. Hypothetically, mind you, she could be forthcoming with this information or completely tight-lipped. No one else on base had done this job in recent memory. No one else knew the system the way that she did. No one else wanted this job. She was doing, alone, a job meant for at least two people. She was the lone gatekeeper through which all childcare transactions on base flowed (or not). She was virtually indispensable and just about un-fire-able.

This staff member, henceforth known as the Gatekeeper, could be extremely rude, offensive, brusque. She often seemed to delight in the knowledge of the power she held over so many people. I imagine it somewhat made up for her low pay and frustratingly never-ending duties. Even as an administrator who “outranked” her, I had to always approach the Gatekeeper with smile on face and figurative hat in hand. It did not do to get on her bad side. Not even for a day. But make the mistake of angering her, and the only thing you could do was ride it out until someone pissed her off even more to the point where she forgot about your own real or imagined transgression.

Into this setting there was once a parent, the wife of an officer, new to base, who made the fatal error of wandering into this staff person’s office to request child care. Having no knowledge, apparently, of what a rare jewel a child care spot was on base, the Officer’s Wife stated her childcare needs and preferences: two children—one preschool and one infant, and only part-time care at least until such a time as she began to work herself—should she decide to work. Oh—and she wished to take a little more time to get herself and her children adjusted to their new duty station, but would be ready to begin enrolling the children in about two, three weeks.

The Gatekeeper. Went. Off.

From the news that lit up the base grapevine within nanoseconds of the incident, there was cussing from the Gatekeeper, there was her raised voice, there were her allegations that the Officer’s Wife was being arrogant and presumptuous and disrespectful and wasteful of the Gatekeeper’s time. There was the question who-exactly-do-you-think-you-are? There was a demonstration by the Gatekeeper of the months-long backlog of childcare requests in the form of folders and folders of waiting applications. There was probably a lot more, but the years have taken those specifics from me.

"Neon Daffodils." PPR_Scribe

I can’t remember if the Officer’s Wife did, after all this berating, fill out an application. Let’s say—for the sake of this retelling—that she did not. Let’s say that all she could manage to do is slink off, in shock, back down the hall and out of the building.

What I do remember clearly, and the point (finally) of my tale is what happened a couple hours later that same day.

The Officer’s Wife returned to the Gatekeeper’s office with a giant bouquet of flowers in hand. The Gatekeeper was confused.

“These are for you,” said the Officer’s Wife, smiling. “At first I was so hurt and shocked by your behavior towards me earlier.”

“But then,” she continued, to the Gatekeeper’s continued confusion, “I figured that for you to have been so rude and unkind to me, you must have been having a very bad day. So I thought I would try to make your day a little brighter by giving you these.”

The flowers remained on the Gatekeeper’s desk for the next several days, resplendent in their colorful blooms. Everyone who arrived at her desk was quick to ask (with some worry, thinking they’d forgotten) if it were her birthday. No, she would say, and then re-tell the story of how she came to receive them. When she told me the tale her head hung low, and she spoke in a tone softer than any I had ever heard her use.

Eventually the Officer’s Wife did get childcare—and part-time care at that–for her little ones. The Gatekeeper continued in her job, much as before. (As this is not an afterschool special, I cannot make the ending one of a Changed Attitude for All Time.)

I could never quite wrap my head around the olive branch mode of forgiveness. And I still quite cannot. What did it feel like walking away from that office after delivering the flowers? Did the Officer’s Wife feel victorious—as if she had given a sort of “backhanded” forgiveness that was really a knife in the back? Did she feel back in control, having regained had the last word in a situation that had so completely spiraled off kilter? Did she feel superior, as if she had managed to take the High Road, leaving the Gatekeeper wallowing in the gutter below? Did she feel some sort of spiritual peace that comes about through real forgiveness? Did she just feel foolish for having spent $20 at the PX for some flowers for a non-deserving witch who had humiliated her?

I don’t know. I do know that this story became somewhat legendary on base for the remaining years I was there (and probably long afterward). I, myself, still think of it often. I know that I would not have done the same thing. Actually, I know that I did not do anything similar on the more than one occasion when I was on the business end of the Gatekeeper’s wrath. Instead, I consoled myself with fantasies of revenge featuring her gruesome demise from rogue staplers, crazed paper clips, and poison permanent markers.

Apparently I am not yet evolved enough to attempt this kind of forgiveness on a massive scale.

“Chia Obama makes the statement, ‘I am proud to be an American’…”

I just saw this ad on TV last night with my children.

I thought this nonsense was no longer for sale. But, sadly, I was mistaken. I thought about writing a whole post about my feelings about this WTFery. But I already exhausted my comments during a previous discussion about this completely unnecessary and degrading product. Plus, I failed my own blogging readiness test. So I’ll refrain from further comment on this totally, 100% waste of crockery and grass seed that does not even look remotely like the President.

Post-racialism. Ch-ch-ch-change that makes you long for the old racism.

On the “Teachable Moment”

President Obama has stated that he hopes “Gatesgate” can become a “teachable moment”:

My hope is that as a consequence of this event, this ends up being what’s called a teachable moment where all of us, instead of pumping up the volume, spend a little more time listening to each other and try to focus on how we can generally improve relations between police officers and minority communities, and that instead of flinging accusations, we can all be a little more reflective in terms of what we can do to contribute to more unity. (Source)

I am not sure where the term “teachable moment” originated from. But I was first exposed to the term when I was a preschool teacher about a half lifetime ago. What it meant then in that context was that—though a good teacher carefully creates and executes lesson plans for children that are age appropriate, engaging, and high in educational content—the excellent teacher is flexible enough to take advantage of those once in a blue moon opportunities to teach something not originally in the plans. So, for example, yes we may be in the middle of a week-long lesson on colors and shapes. But on Wednesday when the children excitedly discover a bird’s nest with freshly laid eggs right outside the classroom window, the lesson changes to one on birds…baby animals…which animals fly, swim, and walk on land…etc.

The main point is that in the preschool classroom, teachable moments are driven by the needs, interest, and motivation level of the students combined with the presentation of a unique opportunity.

Given my background, it is understandable that I judge teachable moments by this metric.

"Old School 30." Lainmoon, http://www.flickr.com/photos/lainmoon/31172906/

So. Does/can Gatesgate be a useful and informative teachable moment?

First: the Interest Test. Presumably, there is a lot of interest in this case. Almost a morbid curiosity in some cases. So perhaps it passes the “interest” test. But interest to who? Who is going to be “taught” by this incident? The officer? The professor? The President? Police forces across the country? Communities across the country? The public at large?

In my preschool classrooms, although the bird’s nest is generally interesting (at least temporarily) to all the children—due to novelty, proximity, rarity, or other reasons—in a couple of days the children’s attention span has started to ebb.  Jamahl is still highly fascinated—and will be for the rest of the school year. Claude, however, had moved onto other interests the day after the discovery. Miriam, whose mother is pregnant, is interested—but for very different reasons than other children not expecting a new baby brother or sister. DeAnte and Cesar and Brie become most fascinated by the dead baby bird with its guts spilling out all over the playground lawn that appears on the Monday after the discovery. That Monday Vanessa—who had been highly interested—is now more interested in cars as a result of the new one her uncle bought over the weekend…

So, too, in today’s public sphere around race. “Interest” is fleeting, multifaceted, multi-sourced. So on second thought I would have to conclude that we are really not that interested in “having a conversation” about race. Some of us are interested in airing grievances. Some, in getting others to come around to our way of thinking. Some want to use these “conversations” to further spew racist poison. Many of us will be interested—even open to true conversation—but only until the next shiny interesting quasi-news story comes along to steal away our attention. Some are pretty beat down and have little hope of things changing for the better so, hey, why talk more about it. Plenty of folks just want “race” to go away….

Now for the second test. Is this Gates incident a True Opportunity? Is Professor Gates really the right poster child for a demonstration on the evils of racial bias?

Probably not.

As one blogger has commented, Professor Gates’ experience and its aftermath may be yet one more example of “All the victims are male and all the oppressors are White.” Those of us decrying racism have little rhetorical capital when the only incidents worthy of protest are when victims are Black, heterosexual, and male. (And—in this incident—upper middle class, highly educated….a “proper” Negro.) And when the oppressors are White and male. And bonus points for a White male police officer—the most favorite buggaboo of affronts to Black civil rights.

Then there is the ambiguity surrounding the case. I do not doubt for one minute that race played a big part of the professor’s and officer’s interaction. I fully recognize how police can abuse their power, and that the ranks of police forces across the country contain out-and-out racists as well as those who experience subconscious racial bias.

But I think that class was the compounding factor. Is it possible that police officers in Cambridge have to put up with elite, privileged, self-entitled college folk all the time? Yes, I think so. I also think testosterone compounded things even more. This was a male-on-male thing as much—or more than—a Black-on-White thing.

Adding to the gray area was the outcome. Professor Gates—thankfully—suffered no physical injury, no loss of property, no loss of life. Yes, dignity is important. But it is not clear that the opportunity here is the best to provide that important lesson about race. If anything, it makes the (presumably) working class, lower paid, public servant the injured party. Can you imagine being lambasted in the international media by the President of the United States?

If this is a teachable moment, then it should be about how we, in a free society, want our rule of law to be carried out by those entrusted to protect us. (See here and here, for example.) It should be about the boundaries of State power, including police officers, and what offenses count as arrestable and freedom-limiting activities. But that, actually, is an even bigger conversation than race. It gets to the very heart of how we see our democratic society. What a boring conversation, in contrast to the high drama and titillation of race and racism…

I say all this as someone who has held something of an intellectual crush on Professor Gates for many years. I was consumed with envy and awe when a grad school friend got the opportunity to meet him after one of her family members was profiled in his African-American Lives 2. I love his intellect, his sense of humor, his somewhat sly smile. Even his cane gives him that extra flair, that je ne sais quoi, that is just appealing to me, an academic geek (and proud of it). I do not have a bone to pick with Dr. Gates—in fact I freely admit that I felt for him because I see myself in his same socioeconomic class and his arrest brings home even more how much a Black man or woman with a PhD is still “just” Black first.

I also say all this as someone who has never signed a petition in support of a Black male death row prisoner, or Black male taser victim, or Black male supposedly railroaded-by-police “innocent” bystander. My reasons for this lack of overt support are many and deserve a separate blog post. But suffice it to say that I am in the camp that would like to see more support for the victims of Black-on-Black crime and injustice, than the far fewer in number victims of White-on-Black crime and injustice. And I would definitely like to see more Black compassion for Black female lives and bodies—at least as much as wee seem to have for Black male lives and bodies.

Finally, I also say all this as someone who has supported and followed President Obama ever since he was a young, unknown Senator with a funny name just making a speech on a national big stage. I believe most of the criticisms of him range from par for the course (e.g., he has taken on too much) to the ridiculous (e.g., he is not US-born). He is in a unique position of walking a racial tightrope, and in all cases he will generally be damned if he does and equally damned if he does not.

"The Best teachers." kyteacher, http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyteacher/3580553044/; Michael Mistretta, http://www.flickr.com/photos/definetheline/2644671002/

In this instance, however, I think this “teachable moment” is for President Obama and President Obama alone.

In my preschool classroom, that was a definite no-no. It is great if I just happened to be a bird enthusiast, had a closet full of bird teaching materials that I have been just waiting to use, and that this dovetails wonderfully with the children’s interest and with the unexpected arrival of the bird and her nest. But it is not OK if I try to manipulate interest or opportunities to satisfy only my own needs.

This may be one case where the teacher is teaching for the benefit of the teacher.

President Obama needs a win. He needs to make up for what some are reading, charitably, as a mis-step and others are reading, with relish, as a tool for a potential upset come re-election. He is probably interested in recapturing the glow from his widely acknowledged groundbreaking speech on race from the campaign. (Which, it is important to note, was also forced upon him through a “teachable moment.”) He is motivated to maintain the sense of balance, the air of racial objectivity, that he likely feels he needs as the first non-White president of the United States. He is also likely motivated to bring this incident to some closure. It was not in his original lesson plan and he wants to get quickly back to health care and other “real” issues.

I hope, for the President’s sake, that the menfolk-downing-beers-in-the-White-House move works out. But this is not a teachable moment for the country on race. Perhaps we will have one at some point. But this ain’t it.

“The status quo on health care is no longer an option for the United States of America….”

When people couldn’t pay, she didn’t charge them.  When the clinic wasn’t making money, she didn’t take a salary for herself. When Hurricane George destroyed the clinic in 1998, she made house calls to all her patients while it was rebuilt.  When Hurricane Katrina destroyed it again and left most of her town homeless, she mortgaged her house and maxed out her credit cards to rebuild that clinic for a second time.  She tended to those who had been wounded in the storm, and when folks needed medicine, she asked the pharmacist to send the bill her way.

…But for all that she’s seen and all the tremendous obstacles that she has overcome, Regina Benjamin also represents what’s best about health care in America — doctors and nurses who give and care and sacrifice for the sake of their patients; those Americans who would do anything to heal a fellow citizen.  Through floods and fires and severe want, Regina Benjamin has refused to give up.  Her patients have refused to give up.  And when we were talking in the Oval Office, she said:  The one thing I want to do is make sure that this Surgeon General’s Office gives voice to patients, that patients have a seat at the table; somebody is advocating for them and speaking for them.

~President Barack Obama,
0n nominee for Surgeon General, Dr. Regina Benjamin

True Outrage

Image credit: Cambridge Police Department

What if he was not Dr. Henry Louis Gates, Jr?

What if he was not a preeminent Harvard professor?

What if he was not almost 60 years old, of average or below average height, with a visible disability?

What if his home was not “well maintained” in a “nice” Cambridge neighborhood?

What if the incident had not happened at 12 noon, but 12 midnight?

What if he could not have provided identification in a timely manner?

What if he did not have a high profile attorney to filter all subsequent inquiries and release all statements?

What if the police had not been forced, through public embarrassment, to drop all charges?

The true outrage is that if any or all this had been the case there would not be nearly as much outrage.