Posts Tagged ‘bigotry’

Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.–Dr. Martin Luther King

Change is hard.

It’s hard to change others. It’s hard to change ourselves.

Every now and then, something or somebody comes along with the power to change us.   Maybe it changes how we think.  Maybe it changes how we act. Every now and then, there comes a person, whose leadership is so powerful, their words alone are enough to change us.

Dr. Martin Luther King was one such man.  His thoughts, deeds and convictions, had the power to change a nation.  Using neither anger, nor force, he changed America.  He made our country a better place, by helping a nation think differently. He made individuals want to do better.

We live in an era of compromise.  We allow ourselves to be shaped by the opinions of others.  Those who represent us, make deals for political favors.  Journalists, who once relished the opportunity to expose the truth, now avoid controversy.  Like adolescents seeking approval  from their peers, very few of us are willing to risk becoming outsiders. Read the rest of this entry »

Sometimes when I’m watching politicians, I wonder if they’re really actors.  It’s confusing, because  actors think they’re politicians–doing their best to tell us how to vote. The politicians must be confused too, because they often think they’re scientists or scientists and social engineers. I took Civics, but don’t remember anything entrusting the government with responsibility for interpreting science or re-engineering society for us.  However, I remember be taught about Hitler trying that.

When did it become government’s job to interpret issues for us?  When did they become responsible for legislating what we should think in regards to religion, science or sociology?  It seems legislators are doing their best to make sure we all walk the same dogma, as they purge history books of history, in order to make room for more politically advantageous things.  We are supposed to believe they know best–that they are smarter than the great collective of American thinkers. Whether the issue is climate change, or diversity, any person who refuses to embrace the groupthink is deemed an uneducated moron.  Take for example the controversy regarding Evolution vs. Creationism comes up a lot.  I know what I believe, but I’d never be so arrogant as to suggest it’s the only viewpoint, or the only thing that should be taught.  It takes neither faith, nor intellect to believe something, if you’ve only heard one side.

It’s not just science or history, the government wants to tell us how we should feel about those around us–how we should view people of other lifestyles, religions and races. It is easy for those, like myself, who live in diverse communities with little racism, to deny it’s existence, but racism is alive and well.  Unfortunately, the most insidious form of racism is that which disguises itself as a progressive effort to eradicate racism.

In the most regrettable era of United States history, Africans were treated as subhuman. Wise leaders, struggle, and bloodshed abolished slavery, but even a century later, many still refuse to acknowledge African-Americans as equals. Every minority in this country has faced their own struggles, but none have suffered more than our “Black” citizens.

Black–I think that means all those with brownish skin who are not Asian, Native American, Pacific Islander Caucasian or Hispanic. Not sure, but I think the current politically correct term is African-American.  That’s a silly term, considering there were Africans here, before the British-Americans who wrote the constitution.

I’ve  lost track of all the terms  used for “blacks” in my lifetime, but never mind that, I’m part Mexican and I can’t even figure out what I’m supposed to call myself.  I hear terms like “Mexican-American” will soon be changed to American-Mexican.  It’s semantics, but why are those, who want us to stop labeling and embrace diversity, the biggest purveyors of labels?  I’m part Super Taco, part Big Mac, in other words, I’m American!   Want an affirmative action?  How about we stop classifying people by race?

The “smart” people are doing their best to make sure the rest of us think they way they want us to, but I think it’s time for those know-it-alls to dust off their biology books.  Here’s a little lesson for the smart people, coming straight from a good ol’ girl educated in a pre-progressive public school smack-dab in the center of the oft-maligned state of Arizona:

There is no such thing as race.

My entire life, I was always aware of my skin color and sometimes wondered if  it made me a less desirable specimen of humanity, but I was still raised to be as proud of my European and Hispanic roots, as I was of my American heritage. However, I wanted to know more about where my family came from, so I turned to DNA testing for answers.  I’ve always been fascinated by how  the sequences of four nucleotide bases combine to make each of us–even those who are one of a set of identical twins, unique.   However I was very surprised by what I learned in my latest look at DNA.  My quest to find out about myself, turned into a lesson about the human race.

Notice I didn’t say human races?
That’s right kids, there is only one race. We don’t all look alike, we may not come from the same continents, but we are all the same race with variations.

Those who are still making distinctions between Asians, Blacks and Hispanics may think they’re progressive, but they’re actually very behind the times.  They might as well be back in the 1850s or 1950s, because their view of race is anything but progressive.

Previously, I wrote about the new addition of a dog to our house.  At first I was convinced he was some kind of German Shepherd mix, but as he’s grown, it’s harder to figure out what he is, because he’s an indecipherable mix.  There are DNA tests for dogs, but they wouldn’t tell me much more than I can guess looking at him. My dog, like most Americans,  is the magnificent product of many generations. His breeding is like most of ours–indistinct.   He is a mutt, but he’s not a lesser dog.

No matter what external traits we exhibit, we are all the same species of the same race.  We may have different hair color, eye color or skin color, but we are all the same race.  See, in a lab, even the brightest and best of geneticists can’t identify race.  It’s not that they haven’t figured out how, it’s that there isn’t any genetic difference.  Traits associated with race are the result of adaptations and subtle changes in the DNA.  It doesn’t matter whether you take that as proof of evolution or evidence of intelligent design–the DNA shows every single person on the planet comes out of the same lineage started in Africa.

That’s not politics, not religion, not dogma–it’s science.  Those who believe that the genetic matter of an Asian,  Black, or Hispanic is different than that of a white person, are as naïve as children who believe an egg dyed green will taste different from one dyed pink. Most of the traits we have used to define race are no more substantial than the difference between a brown egg or a white one.  Whether you prefer brown eggs or white ones, once you remove the shell, they’re all just eggs.

Deb’s Note:  In the next edition of de blog, more about DNA, including my own discoveries and explanations of why the use of race labels is an outdated practice.

Shoshona Hebshi is a–a 35-year old suburban housewife and an American.  In this case “American” means half-Saudi, half Jewish.  When she chose to fly on  9/11, she probably realized it was a day on which  many were apprehensive, but she never expected what she experienced.

Seated between two men who appeared to be of Indian descent, the three strangers, became the object(s) of suspicion, after the gentlemen both used the lavatory.  It is reported that the men both visited the bathroom (sequentially) and spent too much time there.

As the grounded plane was rolled to the far edge of the tarmac, fighter jets were scrambled. Shoshana wondered what was going on, as she watched a swat team, equipped with dogs and machine guns outside the plane window.  Only when the armed men stormed the plane to handcuff and remove Shoshana and the two gentlemen, did she realize, she and those seated with her had been racially profiled.

Recently, I was out, when I got a call from my son.  He wanted permission to ride bikes to a nearby store with his friend.  At 12, he‘s very responsible, so I stifled my misgivings and gave consent, reminding him to be careful of traffic and cross with the lights.

I was convinced he was mature enough, but still I worried about possible mishaps.  If he were to be struck by a car, I’d never forgive myself.  My mind considered all the possible things that could happen, except the one which actually occurred, the thing that seemed least plausible.

The boys weren’t hit by a car. They weren’t approached by drug dealers or abducted by strangers, but as my son’s friend fumbled with the lock on his high-end bicycle, he was approached by a policeman.  The policeman remarked on what a nice bike it was, then proceeded to ask where he got it, and who it belonged to.  Meanwhile, the cop paid no attention to my son or his bicycle.  This might be a good time to tell you my son‘s friend is sort of black and happens to own a very good bicycle.  It might also be a appropriate to tell you, the nice bike my son was riding also belonged to his friend.   In other words, the African-American was profiled.

Before you start thinking there was probably a good reason, let me describe this kid.  He’s a nice boy, quiet, unassuming and always well-dressed–not in an attention-getting gangster way, but in the all-American kid-from-the-suburbs way.  His Navy veteran parents have raised  him to always say, “excuse me“ “please” and “thank you”.  He’s a good student who would never address an adult without using the proper title of Miss, Mr. or Mrs.

Later, I retell the story to an associate and am appalled to hear them suggest it’s completely reasonable for a cop to stop a black kid on a good bike–after all, everyone knows how many crimes are committed by blacks.

Excuse me, but the only thing the boy was guilty of was revealing the prejudice of this particular police officer.

Shoshana Hebshi and I are both astounded by what appears to be little more than racial profiling.  Profiling is illegal, but what is often overlooked is the responsibility of any officer charged with protecting others, to do his best to detect, anticipate and evaluate potential threats or suspects.  So, while Californians are looking smugly down their noses at Arizona for the use of profiling to try to stem problems with illegal immigrants, TSA is lamely patting down grannies, afraid to be charged with racial profiling.  It’s a no-win situation.

According to a paper written by Russ Leach, a Riverside County police manager, a common-sense definition of racial profiling is: “the use of race as the “sole” basis for a stop…the practice of detaining a suspect based on a broad set of criteria that casts suspicion on an entire class of people without any individualized suspicion of the particular person being stopped. “

By that definition, profiling is an abhorrent practice, but profiling has long played an integral part in good police work.  Long before 9/11 and the debates over “profiling“, law enforcement officers have been trained and expected to develop and use their instincts.  The best cops turn what they’ve learned from experience, into a database of reference material upon which they base their hunches.  It’s a kind of “if it looks like a duck and walks like a duck” expertise, but problems arise when what appears to be a duck, turns out to be a goose or swan.  What was once following one’s instincts, is now labeled “profiling”.

Like Shoshana, I am not happy about he the racial aspect of the incident, but race isn‘t the only thing at play in either event.  The passengers on her flight reported that both men visited the plane’s bathroom, one for more than ten minutes.  On the  anniversary of the single worst terrorist act in American history, this made passengers nervous.  With TSA’s ad campaign, admonishing air travelers with the slogan, “If you see something, say something” those passengers believed they were doing their civic duty by reporting what seemed suspicious to them.

So somebody has to make the call…whether to risk the safety of a plane full of passengers or to risk targeting someone who hasn’t done anything.

In the bicycle incident, there are any number of circumstances that would have legitimized the cop’s actions…a report of two high-end bicycles reported stolen; a description of a dark-skinned 14-year old, suspected of stealing bicycle; provocative behavior by one or both of the boys, or maybe just seeing a kid who seems to be struggling to get a bike off a rack.

I’m not happy about what seems to have been mostly a “race” thing, but I believe citizens, as well as every single individual entrusted with enforcing laws, must use common sense to figure out who the good guys are.

Read Shoshana Hebshi’s story on her blog:
http://shebshi.wordpress.com/2011/09/12/some-real-shock-and-awe-racially-profiled-and-cuffed-in-detroit/

My skin is brown.  Some people would call me mixed-race.  Mixed-race?   That meaningless term makes me cringe.  In this country a person of mixed ethnicity is an American.  Mixed race??!!??  A triathlon is a mixed race.

I am  SO proud of my ethnic roots, but I’m just another citizen of the world.  My race is, now and has almost always been, a non-issue to me.  However, every now and then my race has been an issue to someone.

Having brown skin gives me an “in” most white people don’t have.  In discussions of race, I’m an insider.  This gives me a special clearance.  I’m allowed to say things that white people are afraid to say.  Next week, I’ll share views on racism, today I’m sharing experience.

Recently, I was talking to a friend who was in terrible pain over a break-up.  His despair had turned him inside out.  I searched for  consoling words.  As he bared his injured heart, it caused me remember a break-up from my past.

I was in college when I fell in love with a nice guy.  I assume he had a soft spot in his head for brown-skinned girls, because his previous girlfriend was one.  That summer, things got serious.  He started dropping hints about us having a future together.  He asked me to travel to Colorado, to meet his parents.  Just before the trip, we walked through the mall, looking at rings–engagement rings.

A couple of days later, we were Colorado-bound.  We spent a week with his folks.  They had a beautiful summer cabin near Pike’s Peak.  They seemed to be lovely, decent people.  They were affluent, but humble and easy going.

There have been times when I felt that somebody’s mother was disapproving, but this time, I felt accepted.  His mother had some paralysis and required assistance with many tasks.  I got to know her well, as I helped her dress and comb her hair each morning.   We got along well.

By my thinking, the the trip was a success.

Right after our return, my would-be fiance said we needed to talk.  As we sat on the couch, he explained his mother didn’t want him to marry a Mexican.  She had told him that if he were to marry me, her grandchildren would be {gasp} minorities.   That was it.  It was over.

My skin was browner that day, than it’s been before or since.  That day I was too brown to be loved.   I was too brown to marry.  I was too  brown to be good enough.  I was just too brown.

Everything was amplified.  I felt browner.

The browner I felt, the smaller they looked.

It took me a long time to get over that–a very long time.  It was painful.  My brown skin and everything inside it hurt.
In my head, I heard the message, “not good enough”.

Not good enough . . not good enough . . not good enough . . not good enough . . . .

I got it.  Damn right!   I really got it.

They weren’t good enough for  me.

It’s never felt better to be brown, than when I realized my skin color saved me from having branches on that family tree.  Thank God, the world doesn’t need any more of “their kind“.