To begin the change with this post, though, strikes me as being a big old cop-out, the intention of which would be to separate myself from the “racist” label. And with what I need to muddle through right now, I’m afraid that I need to keep that label as close to me as I possibly can.)

So now I have seen the film, and have a renewed energy for finishing the book. Not because I’ve fallen in love with the story, but because I need to wade through layer upon layer of confusion. I don’t even know where to begin to process this, although I do know enough to know that my gut instinct, wanting to talk through it to (and at the expense of) my blak friends, is the wrong way to go. I am sure I will still do it, but at least I will feel guilty about it. :-/

There has been so much talk about the film, and I have read all kinds of commentary about its message. Even if I hadn’t, though, I have been in this anti-racism work for too long to be able to go into it expecting to be able to see it as a “nice story”. I am accustomed to questioning everything, and in particular, I am increasingly hypersensitive to movies about black folks that prominently feature a white hero.

Now here’s the weird part. I don’t think that this movie had anything to do with black women.

Yes, I know, the premise of the book was that this white woman wanted to tell the black women’s stories, to give them a voice. And I know that the storyline was intended to bring out many of the nuances of 1950′s American apartheid, so yes, I get it that race was prominent here. But what I really saw in the film (we’ll see how different the book is) was the way that people can live in the midst of something that is so morally reprehensible and yet not be willing to stand up for what is right. The real story here is not the two or three “good” white people who dared to stand up for these women, but the dozens upon dozens (and historically, thousands upon thousands) who stood by and let such pure evil continue, and for such trite and morally bankrupt reasons. It is a story of betrayal of the worst kind . . . of women turning their backs on the most real relationship they have in order to save face in front of a heartless bunch of shallow wenches.

The question that came through the loudest for me, the thing I am wrestling with, is this: In which areas of my own life am I complicit in evil and doing everything in my power to justify my refusal to do what is right? Katrina Browne, the writer and producer of Traces Of the Trade, has asked this question in her own context, but it’s the piece of this that is most troubling to me. What am I lying to myself about?

The “easy” answers include things like buying clothing made in sweatshops, or eating fruits and vegetables that I have paid impossibly low prices for because the people who labor to bring these foods to me are not paid a living wage. And I can engage in all sorts of self-deception. I have to eat, right? I have to wear clothes. And anyway, the problem is too big for me to address . . . it’s just how things are . . . the extent to which we can justify our complicity in the face of so much injustice is beyond what I can fathom.

I want to believe that i am a Skeeter; it helps sustain my frenzied denial of what I know in the deepest recesses of my heart to be true, that I have the heart of a Hilly. Feel-good movie? Not for me, and not for anybody who wants to be honest with herself.

It’s just a beautiful picture of what our world could be . . . 

or maybe I’m just cheesy. 

PS–I didn’t win. Now I want to go back next weekend, and so on, until I actually DO win. who SAYS I’m not a hopeless optimist?!

So I was about to buy it until I started flipping through it and saw something that REALLY BUGGED ME . . .

There was Noah, in all his blue-eyed, pale-skinned glory. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“God made you special, little brown-skinned baby, but apparently not AS special as God made blue-eyed Noah.”

The saddest part of this to me is that I am SURE the publishers didn’t even register the fact that there might be a problem with the way they were representing Noah (not just in this book, either. I’m quite SURE Noah did not have Hollywood-issued baby blues–so the other books in this series, even if they featured a white baby, should NOT have featured a blue-eyed Noah, or David, or Jesus, or anybody else in the JEWISH Bible. well, maybe someone could’ve had blue eyes along the way–but that pasty, white person skin? I think not.) But I want my friend’s little boy (who will already have the deck stacked against him by virtue of the fact that he will grow up as a black man in this society) to have the message come through loud and clear that HE is special and unique and BEAUTIFUL to God, exactly as God made him, without contradictory images that seem to imply that the “real” heroes of the faith always have white skin.

The kitten should’ve been my first clue.

Among his own people, however, Mr. Washington has encountered the strongest and most lasting opposition, amounting at times to bitterness, and even today continuing strong and insistent even though largely silenced in outward expres- sion by the public opinion of the nation. Some of this opposition is, of course, mere envy; the disappointment of displaced demagogues and the spite of narrow minds. But aside from this, there is among educated and thoughtful colored men in all parts of the land a feeling of deep regret, sorrow, and apprehension at the wide currency and ascendancy which some of Mr. Washington’s theories have gained.

These same men admire his sincerity of purpose, and are willing to forgive much to honest endeavor which is doing something worth the doing. They cooperate with Mr. Washington as far as they conscientiously can; and, indeed, it is no ordinary tribute to this man’s tact and power that, steering as he must between so many diverse interests and opinions, he so largely retains the respect of all.

But the hushing of the criticism of honest opponents is a dangerous thing. It leads some of the best of the critics to unfortunate silence and paralysis of effort, and others to burst into speech so passionately and intemperately as to lose listeners. Honest and earnest criticism from those whose interests are most nearly touched,–criticism of writers by readers, –this is the soul of democracy and the safeguard of modern society. If the best of the American Negroes receive by outer pressure a leader whom they had not recognized before, manifestly there is here a certain palpable gain. Yet there is also irreparable loss,–a loss of that peculiarly valuable education which a group receives when by search and criticism it finds and commissions its own leaders.

The way in which this is done is at once the most elementary and the nicest problem of social growth. History is but the record of such group- leadership; and yet how infinitely changeful is its type and character! And of all types and kinds, what can be more instructive than the leadership of a group within a group?– that curious double movement where real progress may be negative and actual advance be relative retrogression.

All this is the social student’s inspiration and despair. Now in the past the American Negro has had instructive experience in the choosing of group leaders, founding thus a peculiar dynasty which in the light of present conditions is worth while studying. When sticks and stones and beasts form the sole environment of a people, their attitude is largely one of determined opposition to and conquest of natural forces. But when to earth and brute is added an environment of men and ideas, then the attitude of the imprisoned group may take three main forms,–a feeling of revolt and revenge; an attempt to adjust all thought and action to the will of the greater group; or, finally, a determined effort at self-realization and self-development despite environing opinion.

The influence of all of these attitudes at various times can be traced in the history of the American Negro, and in the evolution of his successive leaders. Before 1750, while the fire of African freedom still burned in the veins of the slaves, there was in all leadership or attempted leadership but the one motive of revolt and revenge, –typified in the terrible Maroons, the Danish blacks, and Cato of Stono, and veiling all the Americas in fear of insurrection. The liberalizing tendencies of the latter half of the eighteenth century brought, along with kindlier relations between black and white, thoughts of ultimate adjustment and assimilation. Such aspiration was especially voiced in the earnest songs of Phyllis, in the martyrdom of Attucks, the fighting of Salem and Poor, the intellectual accomplishments of Banneker and Derham, and the political demands of the Cuffes.

Stern financial and social stress after the war cooled much of the previous humanitarian ardor. The disappointment and impatience of the Negroes at the persistence of slavery and serfdom voiced itself in two movements. The slaves in the South, aroused undoubtedly by vague rumors of the Haytian revolt, made three fierce attempts at insurrection,–in 1800 under Gabriel in Virginia, in 1822 under Vesey in Carolina, and in 1831 again in Virginia under the terrible Nat Turner. In the Free States, on the other hand, a new and curious attempt at self-development was made. In Philadelphia and New York color-prescription led to a withdrawal of Negro communicants from white churches and the formation of a peculiar socio-religious institution among the Negroes known as the African Church,–an organization still living and con- trolling in its various branches over a million of men.

The movie was only in Grand Rapids for a few days, but I’m guessing that it will be out on video fairly soon, if it isn’t already–so add it to your NetFlix list NOW. And read more about how you can take action against this modern-day slavery (at different points in the movie, it is referred to as “almost” slavery or “quasi-slavery”–BULLSHIT! There’s nothing “quasi” about it!)  that is taking place right in our own hemisphere, and with generous subsidies from the US Government.

 One of my friends expressed concern that this documentary would hold up the “white man” as the hero, and to some extent that is the case, but more than that, it seems to me that (at least in one pivotal scene near the end of the movie), it’s the CHURCH–God’s people standing together–that comes across as the TRUE hero.

But when you see it, you can let me know what you think . . .

I am pretty sure that there is some increase, given the whole copycat phenomenon, but noose hangings are nothing new. A friend sent me this thoroughly disturbing story that she had heard on NPR the previous weekend . . . you can read the short blurb, but to get the full effect, I would recommend that you listen to the entire podcast (it’s about 30 to 40 minutes long.) I wanted to vomit after listening–and you may feel that way too–but listen anyway.

Many of us have rallied around the battle cry of “Free the Jena Six!”, as well we should. But I didn’t hear anybody crying out to free Charles Hickman, and in the podcast he makes it painfully clear that, no matter how large a settlement he received, he really never will be free of this again. “It’s in my mind now”, he kept saying.

Oh, Mr. Hickman, I am so, so sorry. And it’s in my mind now, too, only I don’t want it out of my mind . . . I don’t want to forget the discomfort I felt as I heard your story, and I don’t want to ever stop wrestling with my own complicity in this.

ps–as I was researching this post, I came across another NPR story that has a black man talking about “ignore the noose“, saying that if we simply ignore noose sightings, we will deplete these nooses of their power.

I would suggest (and others agree) that the noose ALREADY has power, several hundred years of it, and merely “ignoring” it isn’t going to make it go away.

I have to admit that I am a bit shocked to hear the anti-Boondocks/anti-McGruder talk. Granted, I am a white woman, but (not sure how to say this without sounding hokey/ignorant, but here goes) I feel like I have really learned a lot/been made aware of stuff via the Boondocks cartoons. Do I think the TV show is far less funny and pushes things in the wrong direction? Absolutely, but sadly, I still watch it.

As long as Cosby has been  mentioned, I will say that I struggled with the same thing with the whole “Fat Albert” issue. When a professor told my class that Fat Albert was embraced by the black community when it first came out, I was shocked, because in my family, Fat Albert was used to mock black folks and to reinforce the stereotypes. It’s part of how we learned these horrible stereotypes. Even as an adult, I heard her say this and couldn’t get my mind around the fact that anybody would see Fat Albert as a positive thing.

I’ve never (before today) had these questions about Boondocks–okay, scratch that. I HAVE had these questions about the TV show, because as one person mentioned above, it’s going out to a wider audience and is going to be misinterpreted by the folks in Iowa (and yes, in Staten Island, where I grew up) in the same way. But the comic strip is, to me, a totally different animal, and I feel like I was repeatedly given a glimpse into the struggles that the black community faces by reading it. (I still read the comic daily–it’s in “reruns”/syndication–and it’s funny because right now it’s dealing with the 2000 (or maybe 2004?) elections, and it still speaks perfectly well to the current presidential race . . .)

Finally, I think I learn about myself as a “trying to be the cool white woman” person–I see way too much of myself in the eager, trying to be “hip-hop” (to quote Brenda Salter-McNeil’s use of the term) white girl who wants to be “down with the people”. I see myself and wince, and isn’t that what good satire should cause us to do?

At any rate, I read some more, and thought more about the TV show, and how I just never loved the TV show the way that I loved (and still love) the comic strip, and I guess I am ready to concede that the show has taken a wrong turn. Now, though, I find myself questioning my previous analysis of the comic strip . . . and I just don’t know where to go with that. I truly have seen Huey as a prophet, and have prescribed words like, “important” and “profound” to the comic strip, and now I’m not sure where to go with all of this.

any thoughts?

I don’t know which is worse . . . the copycat ugliness that will come out of the woodwork as a result of this incident, or the self-righteous “Isn’t that awful?” type of attitude that I like to refer to as the “not me” definition of racism–”Wow, I can’t believe that someone would do that. Who knew that hate still existed in this day and age?” and its unspoken companion, “Well, it’s a darn good thing that I’M not a racist!”

The water is muddied somewhat by the fact that this was a North Shore Staten Island high school–and although the article doesn’t talk much about the racial make-up of the SI team, except to say that “the team includes players of every race and ethnicity”, I am struggling with the (perhaps false) assumption that even the white kids in this Staten Island school are likely to be solidly in the “Wegro” camp, which brings up all types of  questions about the use of ”that word” in this setting. Not that I think it is ever appropriate for a white kid to use the word, but in this case, I honestly wonder if it was more a case of slang usage than an intentional racial slur. (If you have an opinion on this, or if you think I’m wrong to even pose the question, I would love to hear from you!)

But then again–this IS Staten Island we’re talking about, so it’s also quite possible that this really was an act of blatant racism. Either way, this was just a super way to begin my morning . . .

You have to understand–I LOVE Schoolhouse Rock. Saw the play on Broadway (and still own the sweatshirt!), bought the CD, etc. And I still am not ready to let go of my love of Grammar Rock classics like “Unpack your Adjectives” and the fabulous Skee-lo re-interpretation of ”Mr. Morton“,  or Math Rock favorites like “Figure Eight” and “Three is a Magic Number“.

But this is the most blatant twisting of our nation’s history that I have ever seen, and recent discussions about “reclaiming untold stories” reminded me again of the multitude of ways that I’ve been lied to.

If you need help spotting the lies, I’ll be happy to help you out–just let me know. But here’s your first clue: ask yourself who might have been under those elbows as they happily elbowed their way across the nation, or whether the people we “bought” the land from in the first place had any right to sell it.

This was the case this week, when I came across a great post about the subconscious messages we get from the unbearable whiteness of most of the dolls that are created for children today. I could definitely relate to the author’s  recollection of her childhood:

When I was about eight or nine I found a doll that I wanted and the reason I wanted her is that she had dark brown hair (like me) and blue eyes (like me). It really bothered me that all the dolls back then – the 70s – were blondes.  (keep reading . . . )

I also grew up as a white, brown haired/brown eyed girl in the Malibu Barbie era, and I am convinced that I remember my one blue-eyed, blonde-haired friend either saying or implying that she was superior because SHE looked more like Barbie. I can’t be sure of this, but I do know that there was a song in this friend’s family organ’s songbook called, “Beautiful Brown Eyes”, the words of which I recall with perfect clarity even to this day–”Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes; I’ll never love blue eyes again.” It was definitely an issue, and part of what has fueled my own unwavering insistence on equality for non-blonde dolls . . .

it’s just nice to know that I’m not alone in this.