I am re-posting an excellent article by blogger Olivia Cole. If you want to expand your mind, especially on issues regarding racism and sexism, please read her words!
I am re-posting an excellent article by blogger Olivia Cole. If you want to expand your mind, especially on issues regarding racism and sexism, please read her words!
My latest article on The Good Men Project was just published today. Please read it here. When you’ve read it, please “like” it and share it with others. I’d also love to get your thoughts, so please comment!
This is what I am thankful for today. After more than a year working on my writing, I am finally starting to reach a wider audience. All I want to do as a writer is to reach others, share thoughts with them, and learn all I can. This world amazes me, and I’m curious what will come next. Aren’t you?
Thank you for taking a few steps on this journey with me.
I’d like to invite you to read my first published article on The Good Men Project. It’s about having purpose as a man in this modern world of ours.
Please take a moment to read it, and comment. Then please “like” the article, and share it with others! It would mean a great deal to me and my family if you did, and would help in my quest to become a published author.
I am filled with stories I want to share with the world. This is an important step on that road to Respectable Author-hood.
In a wonderful piece on how “The Best Man Holiday” isn’t a “black” movie, my fellow blogger Olivia A Cole dissects how we are still living in a “default-white” society: Everything is either “White” or it’s “Non-White”. There is no crossover, no middle ground. This, my friends, is a problem, but most people are too busy or uninterested to see it as an issue worth addressing.
But this issue affects us in so many ways, many that you don’t even notice.
On our planet, the average person is not white. Now I understand that in America, the majority population is still white, and that’s just the way it is. But why, when almost one in five Americans identifies as African-American and a similar number identify as Hispanic, are about 90% of the models we see on advertisements white? Why is a movie with an all black cast called a “black movie” but a movie with an all white cast isn’t called a “white movie”, but just a movie? These are troubling issues to consider.
Texas, the Lone Star State, likes to portray itself as the stronghold of the traditional white American culture. They don’t deny there are people of non-white origins in their state, but simply don’t put much emphasis on them. Rather, they talk about “American values” and “Traditional American culture”. Nothing against the citizens of Texas, but some of your politicians aren’t living in the same demographic world as the rest of us. They are denying the future.
Fun fact: According to a Saber Research Institutes study of Texas demographic trends, people of Hispanic descent will be the majority population group in Texas by 2020 (That’s just over six years from the writing of this blog), and by 2040 Hispanics will be more than 50% of the Texan population.
So things are changing, and they will only change more as the future becomes the present. Why, then, do we keep clinging to the “default white” cultural norm? I’m afraid I’m not qualified to say why, but it’s a fact. Whites seem afraid to acknowledge they are becoming less and less relevant as time marches forward, and this denial dilutes some of the amazing cultural diversity we have here in America. It makes me sad.
It also scares me, because the novel I am currently shopping around has a unique racial makeup. Only one of the major characters is white, and he’s a villain. All the other major characters – all of them – are people of color. I didn’t choose for them to be that way, they just are. And so I am shopping around a novel that might be totally unpalatable to the “default white” culture I live in. How will editors react to a book that, if made into a movie, could never star Brad Pitt or Leonardo DiCaprio, or Bradley Cooper? In fact, of the 10 most popular actors in 2013, only one – Will Smith – isn’t white. Oh, and to keep the discrimination going, each of them is male. Not a single female on the list. Grrrr.
So what hope do I have, to sell a novel that flies in the face of the current cultural trends? Do I really think anyone will want to read about people of color as they struggle through my story?
In a word, yes. I believe – no matter what our culture keeps trying to tell me – that people are people, and the fact that you have more pigment in your skin than I do, that you grew up speaking a different language, or eating a different food, doesn’t matter. At the end of the day I am confident that people will be able to see themselves in any character so long as they are well written.
No, I won’t be bringing everyone along with me. There will always be those who are offended by any daring choice an artist makes. That’s the nature of the world. But I am confident that enough of you will see my characters as people, not black people or asian people, or even religious people or female people. Just people, nothing more and nothing less. And I am proud of that faith in my fellow-man to be better than he was yesterday. Not everyone will be, not today, but sooner or later race will cease to be the issue it is today.
Someday, we will all be just people.
Two men died in my city of Reading, PA on Monday, November 4th. They were shot to death by a citizen after they robbed a convenience store. To quote a local gun merchant, “He who lives by the sword shall perish by it,” a paraphrasing of Matthew 26:52 from the Bible.
I’ve been thinking about this tragic incident often in the past two days, and to my mind it is a perfect summary of the gun control debate that has raged in America for decades.
There are those here in the US who think anybody should be able to buy a gun with little restriction, arguing that by owning guns, one is safer.
The flip-side of the debate runs that if guns were heavily restricted, there would be fewer of them, and thus fewer deaths.
There is data to support both sides of the debate to some extent, and it’s very difficult to know which side has any advantage in the court of public opinion. The Gun Rights people, however, certainly have some political clout. They have the 2nd amendment of the US constitution to lean on for starters. They also have 230+ years of history and precedent to back them up. And they have the NRA, the National Rifle Association, which is one of the most politically robust lobby groups in this country.
The Gun Control groups, however, have some strength of their own, with growing demographic and study data showing that an increase in guns (legal or otherwise) in an area increases the amount of gun-related deaths. This is especially true in homes, with many studies showing more gun deaths of children in homes with guns.
And that brings me back to the two men who lay dead on the sidewalk on Monday.
Those who support Gun Rights will argue this is a perfect example of why gun ownership makes our streets safer. The man who killed the robbers – and there is no question they were criminals since several witnesses can verify they had just held up the store – was a concerned citizen and a friend of the store owner. He had approached the store, witnessed the robbery, and waited until the robbers exited the building. Indications are he challenged the two young men, who then drew guns on him. He, a licensed gun owner with a permit to carry a firearm, then pulled his own weapon and shot both men dead. The Berks County District Attorney, John Adams, has affirmed that he will not press charges against the shooter since he acted within the law. This, the gun lobby will argue, is exactly their point in preventing heavy restrictions on gun ownership, and it is a very strong argument.
The inverse argument by supporters of Gun Control would run something like this: Three guns were involved and two men killed. How many men would have been killed if there were zero guns at the scene? It is unknown at this time whether the guns the robbers pulled were legally owned or not, but all bets are that they were unregistered or otherwise illegal. If gun sales were strictly controlled, there would be fewer guns available for criminals to use, so logically less gun violence and less need for citizens to walk around armed. This also is a strong argument. Both sides have valid points.
So where does that leave us? Two men are dead, and that can’t be changed. They were both young, 18 and 24 respectively, and who knows what they might have accomplished in the years to come. But even their family members have admitted they were headed down a dark path. They were moving the direction of so many other young men trapped in decaying urban environments. Perhaps they were dealing or using drugs. Perhaps they just wanted fast cash. It may never be known, and it’s not truly important right now. They are both dead.
There is little doubt that other young men who might be considering robbing a store here in Reading will think twice about it, at least for a little while. If I were a local shopkeeper, I would breathe easy for a few weeks.
But the bottom line is this: Nothing will change because of this violent exchange. The underlying conditions that cause so many of our young people to resort to crime aren’t going away anytime soon. There is no political will to fix our broken system, and we are awash in guns, both legal and illegal. Unless we reduce the number of guns on the street and/or reduce the conditions that drive crime, this situation will stay the same and more young men will die.
When will America choose to put her house in order, however that may look? How many of our young people need to die before we will act as a country unified and fix our problems? How long before we shout with one voice, “Enough!”
I am a child of the late 70′s and 80′s. I remember Madonna’s Like A Virgin when it was a brand new song. I remember Ronald Reagan’s first inauguration. I saw Star Wars in the theatre in 1977. Gasoline was less than $1 per gallon, and big hair was in. So was feathered hair. Eww. Bright colors, plastic bangles, Van Halen. Yeah, we had it all going on!
I also remember the Cold War.
If you have grown up since 1991, then you really don’t understand what it was like to believe any second could be your last. As a boy I was obsessed with this. I had trouble sleeping at night, and when I did, I had terrible nightmares of nuclear war and radiation poisoning and flash burns. I’ve never been a visual artist, but I drew several pictures dealing with nuclear war. I talked about it constantly for a couple of years. I wrote really bad poetry.
In November 1983, a film was shown on TV called The Day After. It was so disturbing to me that, as my family sat transfixed by it, I had to leave the room. I went to my bedroom and pretended to read, but I didn’t even sleep that night. It was a Sunday night just before Thanksgiving, and I was tormented by the images of that movie, and the fear of nuclear war in general, for months after. Even now, having gone back to refresh my memory of that movie, I can feel anxiety, with my back and neck tensing up. I remember so much fear, and there was nothing I or any of us could do about it.
I got over it eventually, but it was a strange time. Everything in the 1980′s was flashy and bright. The future was so bright, in fact, that apparently we all had to wear shades. But that was just the surface, and under it all, we were afraid.
The musician Sting wrote a song about this pervasive fear that colored all our lives. Russians talked about how we stood on the edge of a knife, the U.S. and the U.S.S.R.. You can find the full lyrics here, but the song ends with the slightly hopeful lyric “We share the same biology/Regardless of ideology/What might save us, me, and you/Is if the Russians love their children too” and it seems he was right. The Cold War ended, and the chances of nuclear Armageddon have fallen to the point that it’s not even really talked about today. Because the Russians did love their children, we’re all here today.
But there’s a group out there that threatens us all, and their narrow extremist view of the world leads them to destroy anything which doesn’t fit, meaning almost everything. If they were the ones in charge of the former U.S.S.R.’s nuclear arsenal, they would already have launched every last missile. If they were the ones in charge of Syria’s chemical stockpiles, they would already have used them extensively. If they had any weapons greater than roadside bombs and Kalashnikovs, they would have used them already.
And in point of fact, they did. Once upon a time, people from this intolerant extremist group seized control of four passenger aircraft in flight over the eastern U.S. and killed thousands of people. 9/11 was proof that so-called ‘Islamic’ extremists – and I use the quotes there because they are to Islam what Jim Jones was to Christianity – were willing to do anything and kill anyone if they thought it furthered their goals.
This mindset is, to many in the west or really any peaceful nation, incomprehensible. It simply makes no sense to most people that you would kill women and children in order to get a special place in heaven by dying as a martyr. But that’s really the point. Most nations value their children. They see children as the future. They see children as a sign of hope. They see children as beautiful and innocent and full of life.
‘Islamic’ terrorists don’t share this view. To them, and I’m fairly confident in this point, little boys are nothing but future martyrs, and little girls are machines that will make food and little baby boys to become more future martyrs. That’s it. They are not intrinsically valued. They have no worth except what they can do in the future, and that is either kill those unbelievers who don’t share their viewpoint or support those who kill those unbelievers. If you don’t believe me, read up on Malala Yousafzai‘s story.
In short, the terrorists do not love their children. And if your enemy doesn’t value life, then how do you ever convince him to stop taking it away from others?
I’m not wise enough to know the answers. I’m lucky enough to know some of the questions, but that’s it.
And I’m lucky enough to love my children.
Sometimes things just break. You can do your best to take care of them in the hope that they will last, or you can mistreat them with little regard for their long-term durability. It doesn’t matter: Sometimes things just break.
One summer when I was a boy, my family rescued several wild rabbit babies. The mother had abandoned them – or died – and my father found them while mowing. My mother, the nurse, helped us to take care of them. We got a box and lined it with a blanket and fresh-cut grass. We made sure they had water, and even fed them milk with an eyedropper. We might have used bad techniques, but it was the best we knew to do, and our intentions were good. We only wanted the best for those little helpless balls of fur. But all our effort and all our intentions were wasted. All of them died within a day.
I think about those little rabbits sometimes – just like I think about other things that have been broken over they years – and I wonder if I could have done something different to save them. We didn’t have the money to take the rabbits to a vet, and this was long before the internet with its YouTube videos for everything. So in the end I’d have to say there wasn’t much else we could have done. Those helpless baby rabbits were always going to die no matter what we did. We just had to wait a day to be convinced.
This is true with other things in life as well, of course. Cars, careers, romantic relationships, friendships, family members.
Sometimes you don’t even know they are breaking until they’re broken beyond repair. This happened to me with a girlfriend who one day wouldn’t talk to me. Just like that. Perhaps I missed something – I’m sure I did – but if I honestly missed it, how could I do anything about it, right? She just moved on, and she didn’t take me along with her. This has happened in my life with other friendly and romantic relationships as well. Ok, so perhaps I’m pretty clueless, but isn’t everyone sometimes?
And if you believe you did the best you could to keep things together, doesn’t that count for something? If you take care of the car, change the oil, get it serviced, and the block cracks because it was weak all along, you can’t blame yourself. That would be foolish and unproductive.
What if you’re at least partly to blame? There’s an old highschool friend of mine that I haven’t talked to in 20 years. We were inseparable in junior high and high school. We clung onto each other like drowning men in a storm, and it helped. I am a richer person for having known him. But after highschool I went to college and he pursued a trade instead. Our worlds quietly broke apart the summer after graduation, and that was that. I could have tried harder to maintain the friendship, but I didn’t. I just didn’t, and neither did he. He was swept down one fork of the river, and I careened down the other.
Stan, old buddy. If you ever read this, I hope you know you made me a better person. You were the best of friends; I couldn’t have asked for better.
I don’t like things to break. I don’t like endings. I’m not against change, in fact I’m a big fan of it, but the price you pay for change can leave scars that never fully heal. So instead of endings, I focus on beginnings. If something has to end, I look forward to what will begin next to take its place. I’m always amazed by the cool things life throws at me. It’s a video game with infinite levels, and you can choose where to go. Mostly.
We do what we have to do. We do what we’re supposed to do. Take the broken pieces – the thing that has died or ended – and try to craft something new out of it. The broken thing will never be the same as it was, nor should it be. But it might possibly end up being something as nice or nicer than what existed before. After all, isn’t stained glass made up of lots of little pieces of glass? Isn’t cement made from crushed stone?
And if, after all you have done, all you’ve tried to do, the broken thing remains broken, and you can’t make anything better out of it, you mourn. You mourn for the loss of the thing that will never be again, you cry for the hole in your heart.
And you remember.
Green grass, warm in the sunshine. Cardboard box before me filled with grass clippings. And in my hand a helpless baby rabbit, squirming and struggling. It’s a powerful memory I have, one where I could feel love for another creature without any judgments or personal conflicts. I did all I could to save them. I loved those rabbits for one beautiful day, and I will carry that with me always.