Chi-town

I had a conversation with a friend. We were talking about politically correctness and racist jokes, things of that nature. He said something that I didn't think much of at the time, but later I began to mull over his comment and a flood of other related issues. This is what he said and what I thought.

(though I use quotation marks to denote what he said, don't hold me to these being his exact words)
"So, I told a racist joke and people get upset about it, whatever. But, my thinking is, is it more racist to tell a racist joke that's a stereotype, or to ignore the fact that there are different races and cultures, and that people are different all together?"

Ok, understand the gist? So this got me thinking, a lot. Because I think there are different levels, or, as I have come to understand them, stages of racism/prejudice. And I think that he hit on two of them with his comment. I started to work out what those stages are exactly, and this is what I cam up with.

Most basically (and ignorant-ly) there is bigoted racism. I hate such and such group because they're said group. Your stereotypical redneck would fall into this category. I feel that fewer and fewer people identify with this sentiment as generations pass.

Then there's the group that sees people as very different depending on which race they are a member of, and don't "dislike" them because of it, but are fairly prejudice because of these feelings. I think my parents' generation is a good exemplar of this. They don't necessarily think blacks, or latino(a)s, or asians, or whites are better or worse than anyone else, but they think that they are all very different because of their association with a group, and label them certain ways rather than considering them as individuals.

Then there's this group that I used to fall into that I will condescendingly refer to as "color blind." These are the people who insist that race doesn't matter, we're all the same, people are people, the US really is a "melting pot" and everything would be better if we could all just be alike and blend into one people. I see these as the people my friend was referring to as possibly being "more racist" than a person who tells a racist joke.

More evolved still (as I see it) is the group that identifies people as different because of their association with a particular culture rather than strictly race. Now, these do typically follow racial identification as well, but the culture is the important part to them. For example, performing whiteness is a skill that can be mastered by people of a variety of ethnic backgrounds. And even some white people cannot successfully achieve the desirable level of whiteness. Oprah is a pretty good example of this. These people understand that individuals have the right to be and act as whomever they choose, but there is a culture associated with races and ethnicities that should be "celebrated" and respected, not melted into a dominant one, and certainly not hated.

Finally, there is a category that I feel many people are unfamiliar with. This one I will call the nationalist. It is a person who shares many of the characteristics as the group immediately preceding this one: (s)he respects unique cultures and races, does not hold animosity towards any group, does not feel groups should mold into one, but takes such an amount of pride in his/her own culture that (s)he feels that deliberate steps should be taken to see to it that cultures maintain autonomy and separation from one another. Many people would identify the members of this group as fascists, which, of course, carries an extremely negative connotation. Perhaps for good reason.

But, unlike nearly all of my other posts, I am going to relatively reserve judgment and not assign value. I am interested to know what your thoughts are. What categories have I missed? Are these at all fair assessments of how people view race? What are your feelings regarding an individual category? I welcome your thoughts and feedback.

Me in front of the Chicago Theater in the city of the same name. I was oh so blessed to walk by and see Eddie Izzard's name on the marquee. I just so happened to be in Chi-town the same night his tour landed there, and so I happily paid the $65 for a third row ticket of what was to be a sold out show.

Spectacular.

Almost gone

My last full day in Boulder (if all goes according to the non-existent plan). Driving cross country for the first time tomorrow. I've never really driven anywhere before since I'm always flying. Today was total limbo day. Tying up loose ends, getting mail forwarded, changing a student's grade, giving food to Katie, randomly passing the frisbee with Nick, dinner and a movie with Caroline.

Boulder reinforced its title of most f-ed up weather in America. It was so hot this morning I thought I was going to pass out. Then, a storm was in the works--which never panned out--and now it's freaking freezing with--you will NOT believe this--reports of SNOW tomorrow.

F that. Pittsburgh (via Chicago) here I come. Real cities with real weather.

Because I walked about 58 miles today in flip flops, I thought I'd share my feet with you. I've had enough of my face anyway. Ew.


Goodness.

I am thoroughly convinced I have no idea what love is. I struggle with this regularly. The whole thing goes back to an observation I have made about myself which is that I have seemingly no sincere emotional responses. Everything is always so strategic. I can remember vividly instances in which I have received bad news and, in my mind, something like the following happens:
::processes information:: Ok, so, what is the proper way to respond to this? Furrow brow, widen eyes, gasp, search memory bank for consoling words.
It really bothers me. And this kind of reaction follows me in many facets of my life. I can say that the crying thing is natural. If I could turn that off, I would. But I have absolutely no control over that and so I am forever to be labeled as weak in situations where I become overwhelmed, angry, frustrated, or scared.

Anyway, I worry--sincerely worry--that I will never be able to surrender enough, to let go of the control my mind has over my emotions in such a way as to give over my heart to someone else.
Romantically, that is. And I do think there is a difference. The love I experience for my parents and closest friends is as real as it gets, no doubt. But, whatever the difference is between a romantic partner and a friend is the difference in what makes those emotions distinct. And so I really wonder about my ability to experience that. Am I too strategic? Am I too cynical? Am I simply not capable?

Maybe Hollywood has simply set the bar too high.

Maybe I am destined to be cold and alone.

Ha, whatever. Frisbee video! =D


Did I really just make him play fetch? I think there are more things wrong with me than we initially suspected.

surrender

I think that there comes a time when people need to reevaluate. Personally, professionally, spiritually, romantically...

I don't know where I am going or what I am doing. I will say this: I feel old already. I went to a student's show over the weekend. It was a student-written and produced spoof, part of a weekend-long festival with more of the same. Admittedly, I felt more than old; I also longed for a tight-knit group of friends like those on the stage and in the theater around me. I truly don't feel that I have belonged to a group like that since high school, and for a moment, I deeply regretted my decision to leave NYU 5 years ago. But, beyond that, I realized how little time there is left for experiences like the one I was witnessing. And I appreciated this realization very much, because it made me greatly appreciate the opportunity I have to be in graduate school. It may only be tangentially related to those lovely youthful experiences I am yearning for...but it's a step closer than the working world of insurance, mortgages, and responsibility.

I didn't get my students' papers ready for tomorrow, and I feel very guilty for this. I feel a lot of everything tonight. I don't know what brought on this longing/appreciation--a bittersweetness I can't define. I, as always, am terrified of the rate at which time passes and I guess I feel defeated, but joyous for what I have been given in said passing time.

breakin' the rules

I am pretty sure I am not supposed to accept Facebook Friend requests from students. Oops, my bad.

In honor of this glorious occasion, I might as well post a piece that no student should ever know I wrote. I will qualify this, however, by making it known that I wrote this piece last semester when I really did hate teaching. Somehow this semester, Shannon was blessed by the student fairy and I can sincerely say that there is not one student I have this semester who is a waste of my time. I pretty much look forward to walking into that classroom every single week.

But, regardless of the present, my outright bitterness towards the undergraduate student body last semester sparked what I hope will be a serious piece of academic work at some point in the future. (You know, the point when I can quit focusing on meaningless busywork that does not interest me and only hinders education. In other words, after I graduate.)

Creating Identities out of Shit: Our Newest Generation’s Spin on American Consumer Culture

I came up with the idea for this panel, for this paper, one day while sitting in the 500 person undergraduate lecture for the class I TA for. Staring at the students, just hating them, I thought of the people in other parts of this world, neigh, even in this country, who would give literally anything for an opportunity to attain this level of education. Hell, what they wouldn’t give for one of my undergrad’s generic brand t-shirts. And I watched them, staring at their palms with thumbs going a mile a minute texting—not typing—letters that stood for words in some lame and lazy new symbolic language created by the technology pushers. They were no doubt practicing to write me some nonsensical, misdirected email about a paper assignment that they couldn’t even find because following printed directions that don’t use the letters “c” and “u” in place of the words “see” and “you” are apparently too complicated to follow now. And as I zoned out watching them zone out, a buzz word caught my ear and brought me back to our lecture hall. “Culture” was being discussed. I thought to myself, “how ironic,” but then allowed my cynicism to dissolve so that I could follow my thought pattern racing through cognitive schemata, trying to make meaning of a god term like “culture.” I settled down into a question that sparked my interest: What contribution would the folks in front of me be making to our understanding and conception, and yes, the very essence of what is American culture? And right here it came to me. The title of the paper and theme of this panel. It is deeply interconnected with consumerism at large, but I feel that this next generation will be leaving a fingerprint much more original, precise, and scary than merely a new chapter in the live to shop—or is it shop to live—existence. Theirs, though entrenched in buy, buy, buy (N*SYNC merely had the spelling wrong), splits off into a new direction that not only embraces, but is dependent upon, a seductive intermingling of technology, ignorance, and apathy.

“Creating Identities out of Shit: Our Newest Generation’s Spin on American Consumer Culture”

Did I mention that grad school is killing me?