Walking on Eggshells

I've had a number of discussions over the years about the use of language, how it relates to our thoughts, and ultimately how it affects the way we treat people.  These discussions involve things like the telling of racist or sexist jokes, representation in television and film, and the use of particular types of language that some might characterize as jargonistic or sensitive.  Many of these discussions took place at Pomona College, where people often felt anguish that they had to "walk on eggshells" in an atmosphere of political correctness.  What follows are just a couple of thoughts in response to that and related sentiments, triggered by a recent conversation with a friend:

• Nuancing speech, or what some might pejoratively call "political correctness," isn't just about protecting feelings.  People will often defend the use of a racist or sexist term because "I have a black friend and she thinks it's ok."  Those people have a point: we can't read minds; we can't know if every type of person represented by a particular trope will or won't approve.  But if the whole point of considering our language is only to become practiced at knowing what words to say when, then we've missed an opportunity.  We could go one step further: to actually try to change how we think.  Our patterns of language have huge influence over our patterns of thought.  An example: the word "criminal" triggers all sorts of associations in our mind related to masculinity, sexuality, race, socioeconomic status, and a web of other ideas related to them.  The more often we use particular language, the stronger the associations become.  Many of those associations are not of our doing - they originate in the media we consume and from the imaginations and experiences of those around us.  We learn ideas about people that might have minimal basis in our own experience.  If we're only concerned with protecting feelings, we're not challenging the way we've been taught to think.  We're not asking where those ideas originated, nor how they perpetuate.  Another goal might be to release our minds from oversimplified, monolithic, and potentially harmful representations and patterns of thought.

• Humor that stereotypes is another example of how our thoughts and our language relate.  Again, it's not enough to hold our tongue to avoid upsetting someone.  It's also that we should learn the complex histories of representation; for example how people of African descent have been represented in European minds and in Eurocentric thought, how that plays out in Hollywood and in news media, and how a "harmless" joke can perpetuate harmful and caricatured representations in our minds.  Rather than just asking people to refrain from that kind of humor, I think it's productive to suggest that they learn about some of that history of representation.  When I realized that even "harmless" jokes reinforce those tropes in our subconscious, the jokes themselves became less funny, and really not even worth repeating.  If you think you're immune to that subconscious reinforcement, congratulations, you have more control over your mind than any human ever.  Or maybe you're kidding yourself.

• All of this subconscious mind stuff related to language and representation might seem kind of moot unless you actually look at our society.  Our ideas about people matter.  They matter in courts, in job interviews, in electoral politics, in schools... they matter everywhere.  It's not only that our society produces some of those ideas, it's also that those ideas produce our society.

• What does it mean when people become upset that they're made to feel like they're walking on eggshells?  I think such a complaint often says less about a community's tendency towards censorship or superficial sensitivity and more about certain individuals' unwillingness to endure the growing pains associated with nuancing their speech and thought.  This is no real burden compared with the burdens created by a society that results from unjust, uncomplicated, and destructive ways of thinking.  

• People are complicated as hell!  The world is full of people!  Communicating in a thoughtful way should be challenging!  We should feel like we're walking on eggshells!  And after enough time, after enough faux pas and moments of shame and naivete, the shells beneath our feet will do what eggshells always do in the presence of our remnants: they'll compost.  They'll turn into soft, kind soil.  And that's where the real growth happens.

11 Questions on September 11th

As I scanned the web this morning for peoples' thoughts on September 11th, I found that almost nothing I read was resonating**.  It seemed that every piece was trying to offer an explanation, a cohesion, or a theme to how we should remember or explain what happened.

There's comfort in trying to create a narrative about an event so devastating and inexplicable.  It's our tendency to want to attach meaning to things, to console ourselves that even this can fit into the stories of our lives; even this can have some sort of conclusion.

I'm tempted to do the same - to offer up what today means for me, how I explain it and fit it into the story of the world as I see it.  But for me there's still too much to sort out.  The thoughts spiral and intersect and ultimately offer nothing clean-cut, no answers.

But I do have questions.  In my hesitation to conclude the narrative of "Ten Years Later," 11 questions are my small act of commemoration:

1. What if, amidst our anger, sadness and mourning 10 years ago, we had also taken the time for self-examination, to consider our accountability in what happened?
2. What if we had sacrificed our immediate sense of justice in the name of a more persistent justice?  What if we had tried to forgive, as many families of victims have done, as many targets of post-9/11 discrimination and violence have done?
3. Would this have happened had we asked for forgiveness for our historical roles in decimating the natural resources, political capital, and quality of life of people in so many countries?
4. What couldn't we have done with the trillions that went to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan?
5. If something like this happened again today, would our leaders act any differently?  Would we?
6. Has our revenge created a more peaceful or safer world?
7. What have we learned about how our media represents such events and the people that become associated with them?  How much was the anti-American sentiment in the Middle East exaggerated to fit the story, and how did that exaggeration shape our attitudes?
8. Who in our country benefitted from September 11th - politically, monetarily, publicly?  Where are they now?
9. How did September 11th take on such meaning beyond itself?  How did it come to dictate aspects of the legal and prison systems, peoples' attitudes towards Islam, political discourse, media framing and coverage, and the entirety of our foreign policy?
10. How long before we understand the consequences of all we've done since, and all we will continue to do in the name of September 11th?
11. Who doesn't remember where they were?

One final word on a complicated day: to forgive is not to forget.  Forgiveness is not a thing earned by the offender, but a thing offered for the sake of the one who has been hurt.  When I say we should forgive what happened, I ask it only for our own sake.  We should forgive for the sake of self-reflection, of moving on, and of healing.  Forgiveness does not excuse what was done or negate our ability to react to it.  Rather, it enables us to react with love, deliberation, humility, and an eye toward a future long after our lingering feelings have subsided.  Culturally and politically speaking, it's the only thing we haven't tried.



**one article did really resonate: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jim-wallis/10-years-after-911-the-go_b_954477.html

Reflections from the eye of TS Lee

It's difficult to fathom that my relationship to this city has everything to do with hurricane Katrina.  The storm's aftermath began my family's relationship to New Orleans, and now years later I'm beginning to call it home.  There are hordes like me who found New Orleans in the time since - young people who've migrated here for the reasonable rents, exciting bar and music scenes, collaborations with non-profits, and perhaps the sense of purpose that comes with inhabiting a place in dramatic flux, the rare place whose permanence is brought into question.  In our minds, perhaps, each of us believes our presence here is an act of committed preservation.

There are also the non-profits, the charter management companies, the TV and film producers, the celebrities, all of whom have flocked here to make their mark or their dollar or both, many with questionable results for the people who've lived here much longer, who called it home before and after the storm and floods, who may or may not have asked for help in this form, who may or may not appreciate the influx of outsiders who've suddenly taken an interest.

Katrina altered or destroyed so many lives here.  The wreckage is still evident in lower-income parts of the city.  Memories are still vivid.  One of my co-workers yesterday shared his experience of witnessing the downed trees, flooded streets, houses lifted and dropped several blocks away, and the dogs, dozens of dogs, pitbulls hungry barking on street corners.  Six years after the storm his voice still carried the storm's ominous weight, like a ship sinking slowly.

The irony isn't lost on me: without that unnatural disaster**, I'd likely never have found myself in New Orleans.

I'm not entirely sure what moved me to come here.  In part, I think, is my belief that you can learn an awful lot about a society and a culture when you spend time on or around its margins.  I felt that most strongly working at the prison garden, and I've felt it here in each of my visits.  I've spent most of my life in places that hide much of the nature of our society and culture - Westchester County and Pomona College are paradigms, places that represent achievement and prosperity yet obscure the commensurate exploitation and exclusion - and this city seems a little more honest.  Not that Katrina was the cause of much of the marginalization here - it existed long before and will continue to exist long after - but it did exacerbate it, expand it, and bring it to light for me.  Nor does my experience here necessarily give me a view into that marginalization.  That's up to me to locate and engage with responsibly.

Since I am necessarily an outsider here - and perhaps an extremely temporary one - I think it's only appropriate that I try to defer humbly to the customs, values, and cultures that were here long before August 29th, 2005.

This place will teach me if I let it.



**make no mistake that an appropriate system of levees - the one that was planned decades ago and never completed - would have prevented the storm surges that flooded the city, caused billions of property damage, lead to thousands of deaths, displaced hundreds of thousands, and ruined so many lives.  This is to say nothing of the complete failure of the immediate response, ongoing rebuilding funds, and insurance coverage in the years that followed.