This is just damn good journalism. And G*d Bless Kermit Washington...
Kermit Washington's Remarkable Redemption
by Dave Zirin
Former National Basketball Association player Kermit Washington has never asked for redemption. He’s lived it. It’s a tragedy of history that Washington is best known for what will forever be known as “the punch.” On December 9 1977, the LA Lakers played the Houston Rockets. Washington, engaged in an on-court fracas, heard footsteps, turned, and threw a roundhouse fist.
It connected with Rudy Tomjanovich, fracturing his face about 1/3 of an inch away from his skull and leaving the Rocket All-Star passed out in a pool of blood by half court. A doctor later determined that Tomjanovich almost died. That moment has hung over Washington for years and will undoubtedly be in the opening paragraph of his obituary. For many observers, the violence and ensuing controversy was symbolic of covert racial animus both in the NBA executive suites and among fans. Best selling author John Feinstein even wrote a book titled “The Punch” that aimed to look at every angle of this one singular moment. While the punch may define an era, it is a cruel irony that it has so defined Kermit Washington. This was an academic all-American from American University. This was a hard worker and quality teammate. This was nobody’s thug.
Washington would have been forgiven if he had spent the remainder of his life out of the public eye. All anyone would want to ask about is the punch. Instead, he has devoted himself to combating hunger and HIV in Africa. It’s a remarkable story of how one person can both make change the world and resist being defined by others.
DZ: You went to Africa for the first time in 1994, to help after the genocide in Rwanda. What was the experience like?
KW: I flew from Portland, Oregon to Ngoma, Zaire. And then we were there in a [refugee] camp; probably 300,000 people, no food, no water, no bathrooms, no nothing. Death and dying, it was 95 degrees and humid. And I just said "this is ridiculous." I only stayed five days. I had never been around hundreds and hundreds of dead people in my life, and it affected me. So I came back and got some friends of mine who were doctors and nurses and about six months later we went back over. And then we formed an organization and have been going back ever since. And that was fourteen years ago. Now we've got a clinic, we've got a school, we've got food distribution, we've got a community center. We feed about a thousand people a day every day.
DZ: What's the organization called?
KW: It's called Project Contact Africa (projectcontactafrica.com). This year we would like to feed two million people. Now we don't feed and cook; we give them dry rice and beans and cornmeal and we give them enough for probably a month. They have to be HIV positive, with kids, or widowed with kids or elderly.
DZ: So what was it about HIV in Rwanda that made you say this is the central crisis facing Africa?
KW: I wish it were that easy. It wasn't. Where I first went; Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi and all these other places, it was too dangerous to take other people. Now, if you were a Green Beret or some kind of survivalist you could go. But I was going to take nurses to doctors over there. Nairobi is where a lot of the refugees go because it's safe. Politically it's a mess--but it's safer, so we said we'll have our base here. They have a slum in Kenya which is the biggest in the continent of Africa called Kibher, which is over a million people, no running water, no nothing. We started there, feeding people and having doctors come over and turn a school or a church into a medical center. We would probably see a thousand people a day until we ran out of medicine, which is usually about ten days….Here's what people need to realize: people in Africa, or South America or wherever there's such intense poverty are just unlucky to be born there. They're just like we are. We were lucky to be born in America, and they are unlucky to be born where they are; they don't have opportunities there. They're good people. They suffer, and they want hope but don't have any hope there.
DZ: [NBA player who was suspended for the infamous brawl between the Indiana Pacers and Detroit Pistons fans] Ron Artest went on one of your trips and had an absolutely transformative experience. How did that come about?
KW: When we opened the clinic four years ago, the National Basketball Players' Association came over with 50,000 dollars worth of medicine. So it really helped kick-start our clinic. And Ron was one of the guys, along with Maurice Evans, Theo Ratliff and Etan Thomas. Ron Artest was probably one of the most wonderful people we have brought over. All of them are wonderful, but Ron just went out of his way. Not only did he pay for a lab in our clinic, he paid for a doctor to go over this summer. He paid for two weeks, paid for food, paid for a place to stay. Ron Artest--wonderful guy. You see him in the context of basketball; he's a warrior when it comes to basketball. Now, I have to admit, his attention span is not that long and he's not interested in some things, so you have to understand and learn how to work with him. But he's a very, very giving person. All of us who worked with him--if he likes you and he respects you, you can't get a better friend than Ron Artest. And all of those guys have gone out of their way to do a lot for us.
DZ: What do you think is the root cause of poverty in Africa?
KW: It's corruption in the government. I have to be careful when I say that. It's corruption. The people at the top just take. You have unemployment at fifty percent. The people work very hard in school, but when they get out, there's no business. No jobs. Tourism is really all they have over there. So when you see the people from Africa and Asia and how they come over here and get such great grades, it's because they know what they could go back to. We cry when we have to go to school. In Africa they cry because they can't go to school.
DZ: Do you think the West could do more to help Africa in terms of dropping the debt or assisting NGO's?
KW: I think the individual human being can do more. When you have you can help. If you're struggling, we don't expect you to help. But we just want people to remember for a dollar a day you can help feed ten people that would starve to death. There are no soup kitchens and stuff like that. There's no clean water where they can turn on the tap. But they're still human beings. And they're just unfortunate. In this country you have to think about karma. If you do good, good things will happen to you. If you do bad, bad things will happen to you, regardless of whether we catch you or not. And I'm not a religious person, I just recognize that what goes around comes around. So if I was in that situation I would hope that somebody would help my family. [But] he way things are going in this country, we might need help ourselves pretty soon
DZ: Is there any ideal or political ideology that inspires you?
KW: I just don't like people taking advantage of others. When I was a kid I loved Robin Hood, I loved Zorro, I loved everybody that tried to fight and to help the poor, people who weren't privileged. We don't have enough of those in politics now. I don't know of anyone who really knows how the common man is doing. Any of our politicians, they act like they do, but most of the common men in this country are struggling. They cater to the rich because the rich will give them donations but the common man is the one who needs them. They're struggling for gas. People don't even have enough money to get to work with gas, by the time they get to work, they don't have enough gas money to get home! We have to start thinking about the common man. Even though we say this is a country, this world is really one world. And we're the ones who put up boundaries and different governments but there's nothing really separate, we're all the same, we all want the same and we all want hope. And I think that if groups can see what little rag-tag groups like mine do, if we can feed two million people, and we don't have any big backers anywhere If you can get another thousand people that can feed two million people. Well, now you're talking about a world that's not going to be starving as much. We could feed the world easily. We could have fresh water for everyone in the world easily. If we didn't spend money in Iraq killing people, in one week you have a billion dollars. And a billion dollars--as I told you--one dollar feeds ten, one billion dollars could feed ten billion people. Well, we only have six billion on the planet. So it could easily be done. The question is, “Do we care?” Do we care enough as human beings to try to make a difference?
[Dave Zirin is the author of the forthcoming “A People’s History of Sports in the United States” (The New Press.. Receive his column every week by emailing dave@edgeofsports.com. Contact him at edgeofsports@gmail.com.]
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
"Don't Buy It" Part II: Racism & Simplicity Sold on/by Fox
So apparently back in February Bill O'Reilly made a flip comment on the air about "not wanting to throw a lynching party" for Michelle Obama. Some woman called his show talking about Michelle being "an angry woman" (and also used the word "militant," though I didn't hear that part) and O'Reilly responded by saying it was unfair to accuse Michelle Obama of these things unless they were put in context. He was trying to make himself sound sympathetic to Michelle--and Bill Clinton by extension which is an obviously targeted parallel--when the lynching comment came out of his mouth. This type of speech act is a classic rhetorical move whereby what's actually said gets couched in and thereby dismissed because of intended "opposite" content. It's kinda like Freudian slippage, though in this case there's little unconsciousness to speak of. You should google search this encounter if you haven't heard it because I'd like to spend less time on the actual interaction between them and more on what this kind of media moment means for citizens of this country particularly white people. But before I get into that, let me declare: Bill O'Reilly is a white supremacist who openly utters hate speech against African American people on national television. His comment in regards to Michelle Obama is beyond insensitive. It was disgraceful and sickening. Absolutely fucking disgusting. He should be banned from ever speaking to the American public and fired from his position at Fox. Period. Now...
I posted a video on my site about a month ago regarding the sexist coverage of Hillary Clinton's campaign. And while all that was hideous, I'm afraid the ugly is going to get uglier. This is not to play into fearful politics, but let's be honest, racist imagery, language and marketing have already factored into the way Obama has been followed and now that Hillary is gone, they only have one fish to fry. It is particularly seductive during times like these--times when wars are raging, houses are foreclosing and change appears quite brightly on the horizon--to fall back into black-and-white thinking. And yes, I chose that phrase on purpose. Don't get me wrong, there are black realities and white realities, and they matter in this country and in this election. But they are not the only realities. Before moving forward though, let me speak on what black-and-white realities actually do exist...
White people across political parties should realize the unique opportunity before them: with the heightened attention to race that (inevitably) follows this election, we have an historically unparalleled chance to speak out against white-supremacy. US media is full of folks who will jump in head first when given the opportunity to spread division or make profit off of stereo-types and prejudicial remarks masked as "reporting." White people (even those who will vote for McCain but have moral sense enough to know that racist propaganda should have no place in society) should use their consumer power to a) turn off stations that perpetuate the hate and/or b) use those platforms as an avenue for dissent by calling in to challenge white-supremacist statements/ideologies. Most of us unfortunately know that unless white people do some of the challenging, the oppressive powers will just dismiss dissenting communities of color as being "too sensitive" or "biased." I haven't always been the best white ally in the world, but I plan to do what I can at this political moment because a) i've learned the hard way about not sticking up for my friends at the right time & b) it's just the right thing to do. This is a white reality.
There's a black reality too, though I do not think for a minute that I can begin to know or articulate what Barack Obama's campaign (or the swell in racism and white supremacy accompanying his campaign) means for the black community. Besides, it's not like there's a monolith black community that feels one way about Obama, just like there's no monolith white community that feels one way about McCain. Obama is, however, the first person of African descent to likely become the president of the United States. That means something about the leadership, accessibility of power and shape of the future in this country for persons who also have African descent and non-white skin. It may not mean the same thing for all African Americans and people of color, but it means something profound.
So yes, there are color realities. But there is also something tricky about these color realities because whenever you break them down--you know, like try to get really specific on what mixed is, and/or black is and/or what white is and/or what brown, yellow, and red are--there's an exception to every rule and nuance upon nuance of the experiences that might be classified under these labels. So just when you want to get serious about the racial implications of this election, one pauses for a second because history has shown us the arbitrary nature of the way race has been "traced" especially during times when certain groups have a lot to gain/lose. FOX News stands to benefit from making us forget that nuance exists. They want us to think experience/rookie, white/black, republican/democrat are the benchmarks upon which a political candidate can be judged. They stand to benefit from that thinking because THEY SELL THAT THINKING. If you we don't "buy it" literally, then they are out of a job.
Obama is not just a black man. To limit his leadership into a racial category is to denigrate the complexity of his origins, the hard work he has done in contexts of various colors, political persuasions and socio-economic classes. He is part of a movement, not just a racial group(s). Continually associating Barack to "blackness" by making racialized comments--like the one O'Reilly made about Michelle--is to set up associations in peoples minds that do not allow them to think in a complex way about a complex man who will probably be doing a complex job. It is a set up. It makes Barack beyond critique in some ways and the only object of critique in others. The latter shows itself when outright racism rears its head and the former happens when every inquiry about his past/present gets seen as racially motivated so persons with genuine question about his ability to lead this country have much to lose by stating those questions in public. By the way: McCain isn't dealing with anywhere near this kind of pressure.
So I wrote this blog today to remind myself, after hearing that dumb-ass-shit by O'Reilly, and to remind you during this time of unending racial discourse, to keep the thinking cap on, to trust that things are never as simple as they seem (especially behind screens) and to go out and buy everything ever put out by NAS (who is one of the dopest hip-hop artists of all time and one of the public voices taking a stand against FOX News' deception of the people). Emotions can get heated because issues of great personal and political importance are being tapped--and heated emotions are a GOOD thing if they accomplish the right ends--in this election. We stand to benefit if those emotions get paired with wisdom and discretion. Quite frankly, I think Obama--not all the time, but most of the time--is a candidate who embodies a combination of these things. And that is why he will get my vote.
And on a final final note: I know it's easy for white people to make race an "issue out there" for critique while keeping their blinders up to their own racism. So please know that this essay comes out of many vulnerable one-on-one conversations I've had with other anti-racism activists and experiences of seeing my own racism for what it is: deeply entrenched, often disguised and desperately in need of transformation. I just know that if folks don't talk about it, admit to it, write about it, pray about it, and struggle against it, racism grips our culture even tighter. I may not be innocent or free of white supremacy, but I surely can--especially during this period of heightened tension and possibility--use every vehicle I've got to drive home the message of justice.
I posted a video on my site about a month ago regarding the sexist coverage of Hillary Clinton's campaign. And while all that was hideous, I'm afraid the ugly is going to get uglier. This is not to play into fearful politics, but let's be honest, racist imagery, language and marketing have already factored into the way Obama has been followed and now that Hillary is gone, they only have one fish to fry. It is particularly seductive during times like these--times when wars are raging, houses are foreclosing and change appears quite brightly on the horizon--to fall back into black-and-white thinking. And yes, I chose that phrase on purpose. Don't get me wrong, there are black realities and white realities, and they matter in this country and in this election. But they are not the only realities. Before moving forward though, let me speak on what black-and-white realities actually do exist...
White people across political parties should realize the unique opportunity before them: with the heightened attention to race that (inevitably) follows this election, we have an historically unparalleled chance to speak out against white-supremacy. US media is full of folks who will jump in head first when given the opportunity to spread division or make profit off of stereo-types and prejudicial remarks masked as "reporting." White people (even those who will vote for McCain but have moral sense enough to know that racist propaganda should have no place in society) should use their consumer power to a) turn off stations that perpetuate the hate and/or b) use those platforms as an avenue for dissent by calling in to challenge white-supremacist statements/ideologies. Most of us unfortunately know that unless white people do some of the challenging, the oppressive powers will just dismiss dissenting communities of color as being "too sensitive" or "biased." I haven't always been the best white ally in the world, but I plan to do what I can at this political moment because a) i've learned the hard way about not sticking up for my friends at the right time & b) it's just the right thing to do. This is a white reality.
There's a black reality too, though I do not think for a minute that I can begin to know or articulate what Barack Obama's campaign (or the swell in racism and white supremacy accompanying his campaign) means for the black community. Besides, it's not like there's a monolith black community that feels one way about Obama, just like there's no monolith white community that feels one way about McCain. Obama is, however, the first person of African descent to likely become the president of the United States. That means something about the leadership, accessibility of power and shape of the future in this country for persons who also have African descent and non-white skin. It may not mean the same thing for all African Americans and people of color, but it means something profound.
So yes, there are color realities. But there is also something tricky about these color realities because whenever you break them down--you know, like try to get really specific on what mixed is, and/or black is and/or what white is and/or what brown, yellow, and red are--there's an exception to every rule and nuance upon nuance of the experiences that might be classified under these labels. So just when you want to get serious about the racial implications of this election, one pauses for a second because history has shown us the arbitrary nature of the way race has been "traced" especially during times when certain groups have a lot to gain/lose. FOX News stands to benefit from making us forget that nuance exists. They want us to think experience/rookie, white/black, republican/democrat are the benchmarks upon which a political candidate can be judged. They stand to benefit from that thinking because THEY SELL THAT THINKING. If you we don't "buy it" literally, then they are out of a job.
Obama is not just a black man. To limit his leadership into a racial category is to denigrate the complexity of his origins, the hard work he has done in contexts of various colors, political persuasions and socio-economic classes. He is part of a movement, not just a racial group(s). Continually associating Barack to "blackness" by making racialized comments--like the one O'Reilly made about Michelle--is to set up associations in peoples minds that do not allow them to think in a complex way about a complex man who will probably be doing a complex job. It is a set up. It makes Barack beyond critique in some ways and the only object of critique in others. The latter shows itself when outright racism rears its head and the former happens when every inquiry about his past/present gets seen as racially motivated so persons with genuine question about his ability to lead this country have much to lose by stating those questions in public. By the way: McCain isn't dealing with anywhere near this kind of pressure.
So I wrote this blog today to remind myself, after hearing that dumb-ass-shit by O'Reilly, and to remind you during this time of unending racial discourse, to keep the thinking cap on, to trust that things are never as simple as they seem (especially behind screens) and to go out and buy everything ever put out by NAS (who is one of the dopest hip-hop artists of all time and one of the public voices taking a stand against FOX News' deception of the people). Emotions can get heated because issues of great personal and political importance are being tapped--and heated emotions are a GOOD thing if they accomplish the right ends--in this election. We stand to benefit if those emotions get paired with wisdom and discretion. Quite frankly, I think Obama--not all the time, but most of the time--is a candidate who embodies a combination of these things. And that is why he will get my vote.
And on a final final note: I know it's easy for white people to make race an "issue out there" for critique while keeping their blinders up to their own racism. So please know that this essay comes out of many vulnerable one-on-one conversations I've had with other anti-racism activists and experiences of seeing my own racism for what it is: deeply entrenched, often disguised and desperately in need of transformation. I just know that if folks don't talk about it, admit to it, write about it, pray about it, and struggle against it, racism grips our culture even tighter. I may not be innocent or free of white supremacy, but I surely can--especially during this period of heightened tension and possibility--use every vehicle I've got to drive home the message of justice.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Mai-Anh Tran on Facilitation
A year and a half ago I went to South East Asia with some of my seminary peeps, including Professor Mai Anh Tran. It's been my experience that cross-cultural encounters often highlight the different ways people understand modes of communication and how those modes meet up with/in/through power dynamics. Dr. Tran helped me think about those things in depth during my last year and a half in seminary. We kept in irregular email communication and what I've posted below are her thoughts about speaking, listening, role, facilitation, intuition and power. She gave me permission to post this. I am deeply indebted to her not only for the gift of these words, but for her role as co-journer with me along the path of life-long-learning. Please, please, please add your own thoughts about the issues raised...
Email from Mai-Anh Tran April 2008
With regard to facilitating process, my educational training allows me to think of pedagogical & communication skills and sensibilities in group facilitation that my own feminist consciousness can intuit. I constantly pay attention to what is explicit, implicit, and null; to how power dynamics & power differentials are expressed verbally & bodily-kinesthetically & "psychically"; to the styles of communication which different people are operating out of; to the "horizons" that participants may be coming from (as in Gadamer's "fusion of horizons"). Like the Dean, I, too, am led by intuition, but I think my intuitive skills are sharpened only through critical analysis of why I must do what I do. I must also be aware of what my own patterns & tendencies, so that I would be aware of what I would "fall back to" in crisis mode, for instance.
In a classroom setting, I am the type that would plan the session down to the minute (I do break-downs of the session by time blocks), ONLY IN ORDER that I would be able to throw the "plan" out of the window and "go with the flow." I always try to have in my head an understanding of the overarching goals to be accomplished, and if we need to deviate from my well-orchestrated plan to accomplish those goals, so be it. This is why I think good discussions are harder to plan for than lectures-in a lecture, I only have my own thinking to account for, and the trajectory of my thinking doesn't have to be shaped by interlocutors, at least not until I stop talking.
There's also the level of perception: how I am PERCEIVED by others in my authoritative role and in the way I make decisions. My rationale for doing something one way may be misunderstood by others as being something else. Example: If I make a conscious decision to not cut off a student who doesn't often speak in class and let them speak for more than their "fair share" of time, I might be accused by other students of not being able to manage time so that "everyone has an equal chance to speak" (the ever so problematic liberal democratic assumption of "equality"). OR, if I refuse to interject and adjudicate a conflicting debate between students, I might be accused of not being able to assert an authoritative voice. I must also be aware of how people try to peg me into various "identity holes" as they size me up and determine whether or not to give me credibility & respect. (Communications experts seem to think that within the first 10 seconds or so of your appearance, even before you get to utter anything at all, people have already sized you up in one way or another to determine whether they should listen to you!)
I could go on and on. But let me stop before I bore you. Bottom line: I am one to believe that we learn through PROCESS, not content; so if I must choose, I would use the best of my thinking & intuition & training to make sure that I can sustain a process that leads to engagement and insight for participants.
Email from Mai-Anh Tran April 2008
With regard to facilitating process, my educational training allows me to think of pedagogical & communication skills and sensibilities in group facilitation that my own feminist consciousness can intuit. I constantly pay attention to what is explicit, implicit, and null; to how power dynamics & power differentials are expressed verbally & bodily-kinesthetically & "psychically"; to the styles of communication which different people are operating out of; to the "horizons" that participants may be coming from (as in Gadamer's "fusion of horizons"). Like the Dean, I, too, am led by intuition, but I think my intuitive skills are sharpened only through critical analysis of why I must do what I do. I must also be aware of what my own patterns & tendencies, so that I would be aware of what I would "fall back to" in crisis mode, for instance.
In a classroom setting, I am the type that would plan the session down to the minute (I do break-downs of the session by time blocks), ONLY IN ORDER that I would be able to throw the "plan" out of the window and "go with the flow." I always try to have in my head an understanding of the overarching goals to be accomplished, and if we need to deviate from my well-orchestrated plan to accomplish those goals, so be it. This is why I think good discussions are harder to plan for than lectures-in a lecture, I only have my own thinking to account for, and the trajectory of my thinking doesn't have to be shaped by interlocutors, at least not until I stop talking.
There's also the level of perception: how I am PERCEIVED by others in my authoritative role and in the way I make decisions. My rationale for doing something one way may be misunderstood by others as being something else. Example: If I make a conscious decision to not cut off a student who doesn't often speak in class and let them speak for more than their "fair share" of time, I might be accused by other students of not being able to manage time so that "everyone has an equal chance to speak" (the ever so problematic liberal democratic assumption of "equality"). OR, if I refuse to interject and adjudicate a conflicting debate between students, I might be accused of not being able to assert an authoritative voice. I must also be aware of how people try to peg me into various "identity holes" as they size me up and determine whether or not to give me credibility & respect. (Communications experts seem to think that within the first 10 seconds or so of your appearance, even before you get to utter anything at all, people have already sized you up in one way or another to determine whether they should listen to you!)
I could go on and on. But let me stop before I bore you. Bottom line: I am one to believe that we learn through PROCESS, not content; so if I must choose, I would use the best of my thinking & intuition & training to make sure that I can sustain a process that leads to engagement and insight for participants.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Letter to PFLAG Folks
My friend Christine Holcomb is working at PFLAG this summer. She asked some of her ministry colleagues to write narrative pieces about sexuality and faith in order to provide parents of GLBTQ youth accounts of how persons and religious communities have wrestled with these issues. Here's what I wrote...
I was born and raised in a middle class, white, American, protestant home. In many ways my family exhibited identity marks and patterns of privilege. Fortunately both of my parents, but especially my father, were born into communities of religious faith that preached and (for the most part) practiced justice. Thanks to roots firmly planted in the reformation tradition, I was taught by my parents and church that G*d’s love was freely given for everyone. Further: there was nothing I had done or could do that would separate me from the love of G*d. And perhaps most importantly, I was taught that though G*d’s grace existed for me without condition, it also existed for every other human being on this planet—no exceptions.
I cannot tell you how many times my parents knocked me off pedestal after pedestal reminding me that I had not chosen to be born with resources and access to success when I got a little hot on myself. Likewise, whenever I saw abject poverty and suffering, I would ask the big questions about fairness, and they would respond: “nobody chooses what they’re born into—not you, not these people out here hungry—that’s why people who have a lot must give more than what’s required by the world in order to ensure equality for everyone.” Now, this idea of not being able to determine what we’re “born into” doesn’t rest well with ideas of G*d as ultimate controller of the universe, and while this narrative essay is not intended to deconstruct omnipotence theology I would encourage you to invest in that project on your own time. Many people might assume that G*d chooses who will be rich and who will be poor before they’re born, but I’m not sure such thinking can reconcile itself with the idea of an all-loving G*d.
Eventually, I realized my parents’ teachings were probably true: I didn’t deserve the privilege that came along with white skin and middle class status any more than someone without those marks deserves hunger and social ridicule. There is an element of arbitrariness to what we are “born into” and the path of the faithful is to ensure that notions of what we are born into matter a lot less than notions of what all human beings, regardless of origin, need in order to survive. I came to appreciate these teachings over time, though they often clipped at my ability to judge others too harshly or praise myself for too long. But when my dad decided he was going to start fighting for gay rights at church that was tipping the balance too far!
I was eleven, just hitting puberty, beginning to feel some of the societal pressure to become an attractive girl-type, and (as is quite typical for kids that age) my dad already embarrassed the hell out of me. When he got elected to chair the Open and Affirming Task Force at my local church, I thought I would just die. What if my friends found out that my dad liked gays? What if they thought I liked gays?
I look back on those years of watching him fight for the most despised and oppressed members of our community and cannot help but laugh at how much inner resistance I had when it was happening in the moment. At bottom I think I feared losing his attention, not being accepted by my peer group, and finding out that some of the things I held sacred (like ideas about gender, marriage, family and G*d’s preference for all things heterosexual) were wrong or at least worth questioning. William Sloane Coffin once wrote: “It is always a good decision to change your mind when to do so will widen your heart.” I had some mind-changing and heart-widening to do back then. But that same theology about the arbitrariness of what we are born with came in real handy. G*d’s love is for everyone—no exceptions, right? Right. My father’s O&A Task Force succeeded in making my home congregation open and affirming (not just tolerant) of the LGBT community back in 1994.
Today I am openly queer and in-care with the United Church of Christ. I do not think I was born gay. Some are; some aren’t. I choose to love all people—no exceptions—with my mind, heart and (sometimes) my body because I think this way of loving most faithfully mirrors the love of G*d. As a devotee of the Most High, it is my job to mirror and embody the love of G*d on earth.
When it comes down to it, I think there’s a spectrum of sexual/gender preference and a wide range of desires that people inhabit. That’s the difference between the oppressions of poor people and sexuality oppressions. We want to honor the spectrum when it comes to desire for love, but end the widening binary of good and bad when it comes to economic, racial, ability and gender realities.
I’m writing to you today because most of you have children who are either coming out as or exploring non-normative gender and sexual identities. For the love of G*d, I hope you will find it within yourselves and find a community of faith who supports you in allowing your child to love however your child wills to love, so that eventually all this trivial argument may end and a unified fight of our common enemy—poverty—can begin.
May peace be upon you, now and always.
I was born and raised in a middle class, white, American, protestant home. In many ways my family exhibited identity marks and patterns of privilege. Fortunately both of my parents, but especially my father, were born into communities of religious faith that preached and (for the most part) practiced justice. Thanks to roots firmly planted in the reformation tradition, I was taught by my parents and church that G*d’s love was freely given for everyone. Further: there was nothing I had done or could do that would separate me from the love of G*d. And perhaps most importantly, I was taught that though G*d’s grace existed for me without condition, it also existed for every other human being on this planet—no exceptions.
I cannot tell you how many times my parents knocked me off pedestal after pedestal reminding me that I had not chosen to be born with resources and access to success when I got a little hot on myself. Likewise, whenever I saw abject poverty and suffering, I would ask the big questions about fairness, and they would respond: “nobody chooses what they’re born into—not you, not these people out here hungry—that’s why people who have a lot must give more than what’s required by the world in order to ensure equality for everyone.” Now, this idea of not being able to determine what we’re “born into” doesn’t rest well with ideas of G*d as ultimate controller of the universe, and while this narrative essay is not intended to deconstruct omnipotence theology I would encourage you to invest in that project on your own time. Many people might assume that G*d chooses who will be rich and who will be poor before they’re born, but I’m not sure such thinking can reconcile itself with the idea of an all-loving G*d.
Eventually, I realized my parents’ teachings were probably true: I didn’t deserve the privilege that came along with white skin and middle class status any more than someone without those marks deserves hunger and social ridicule. There is an element of arbitrariness to what we are “born into” and the path of the faithful is to ensure that notions of what we are born into matter a lot less than notions of what all human beings, regardless of origin, need in order to survive. I came to appreciate these teachings over time, though they often clipped at my ability to judge others too harshly or praise myself for too long. But when my dad decided he was going to start fighting for gay rights at church that was tipping the balance too far!
I was eleven, just hitting puberty, beginning to feel some of the societal pressure to become an attractive girl-type, and (as is quite typical for kids that age) my dad already embarrassed the hell out of me. When he got elected to chair the Open and Affirming Task Force at my local church, I thought I would just die. What if my friends found out that my dad liked gays? What if they thought I liked gays?
I look back on those years of watching him fight for the most despised and oppressed members of our community and cannot help but laugh at how much inner resistance I had when it was happening in the moment. At bottom I think I feared losing his attention, not being accepted by my peer group, and finding out that some of the things I held sacred (like ideas about gender, marriage, family and G*d’s preference for all things heterosexual) were wrong or at least worth questioning. William Sloane Coffin once wrote: “It is always a good decision to change your mind when to do so will widen your heart.” I had some mind-changing and heart-widening to do back then. But that same theology about the arbitrariness of what we are born with came in real handy. G*d’s love is for everyone—no exceptions, right? Right. My father’s O&A Task Force succeeded in making my home congregation open and affirming (not just tolerant) of the LGBT community back in 1994.
Today I am openly queer and in-care with the United Church of Christ. I do not think I was born gay. Some are; some aren’t. I choose to love all people—no exceptions—with my mind, heart and (sometimes) my body because I think this way of loving most faithfully mirrors the love of G*d. As a devotee of the Most High, it is my job to mirror and embody the love of G*d on earth.
When it comes down to it, I think there’s a spectrum of sexual/gender preference and a wide range of desires that people inhabit. That’s the difference between the oppressions of poor people and sexuality oppressions. We want to honor the spectrum when it comes to desire for love, but end the widening binary of good and bad when it comes to economic, racial, ability and gender realities.
I’m writing to you today because most of you have children who are either coming out as or exploring non-normative gender and sexual identities. For the love of G*d, I hope you will find it within yourselves and find a community of faith who supports you in allowing your child to love however your child wills to love, so that eventually all this trivial argument may end and a unified fight of our common enemy—poverty—can begin.
May peace be upon you, now and always.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
You Know It's Summer When
The plan to tidy up the house
takes a backseat to hitting the farmers market where
gender ambiguity is the norm and
bare-assed hippie children run next to
the near-by quasi creek while
their parents chat with blue bottle coffee connoisseurs who
(guessing by the pace of their speech)
don't seem to notice the 40-person line now
wrapping around the pathways created by booths of
local farmers trying to co-exist and maintain in a world
of Safeways and Walmarts.
Instead of shaking your head in annoyance
while muttering "how typically
bay area" under your breath,
the amalgam of do-gooder madness
actually makes you smile and say
"at least someone is trying."
The plan to return the video he rented too long ago
takes a backseat to reading novels, and
exchanging quotes from those novels outloud across
the dining room table because good writing is good writing,
and (my god!) this author makes miracles happen with her ability
to simulate the ridiculous and profound on paper.
Heirloom tomatoes, almonds and iced-coffee also pass between us
after hours of sex and sympathies exchanged on couch cushions.
A sermon about rest actually resonates
in this space and time newly created by
the fulfilling of requirements,
the quieting of academic hustle,
the intentional decision not to pencil-in
every single blank space on that calendar.
A sermon about rest actually resonates.
takes a backseat to hitting the farmers market where
gender ambiguity is the norm and
bare-assed hippie children run next to
the near-by quasi creek while
their parents chat with blue bottle coffee connoisseurs who
(guessing by the pace of their speech)
don't seem to notice the 40-person line now
wrapping around the pathways created by booths of
local farmers trying to co-exist and maintain in a world
of Safeways and Walmarts.
Instead of shaking your head in annoyance
while muttering "how typically
bay area" under your breath,
the amalgam of do-gooder madness
actually makes you smile and say
"at least someone is trying."
The plan to return the video he rented too long ago
takes a backseat to reading novels, and
exchanging quotes from those novels outloud across
the dining room table because good writing is good writing,
and (my god!) this author makes miracles happen with her ability
to simulate the ridiculous and profound on paper.
Heirloom tomatoes, almonds and iced-coffee also pass between us
after hours of sex and sympathies exchanged on couch cushions.
A sermon about rest actually resonates
in this space and time newly created by
the fulfilling of requirements,
the quieting of academic hustle,
the intentional decision not to pencil-in
every single blank space on that calendar.
A sermon about rest actually resonates.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Individuation and the Grief of Letting Go
My relationship with my mom is changing. It has always been changing. But this phase of maturation (what I hesitate to call "separation" though that's what it is) stands out as particularly difficult. I assume the difficulty only signifies the depth and breadth of hard work on both of our parts to become adult women with healthy boundaries and functional (as in not dysfunctional) dependence on one another. But fuck: the letting-go process hurts like hell. I'm sure all of this is conflated by the fact that I have no relationship to anyone of blood relation besides my mom. The rest are all dead or estranged. That hurts like hell too, though I've grown used to this fact of my life over the past couple of years and have arrived at relative acceptance.
Perhaps the innate developmental process of mimetic behavior creates such pain. How else do we learn to live, move, and have our being (to quote Paul who was quoting the Sophists, I think(?)) besides copying the gestures, actions and relational patterns of our primary care-providers? We cannot escape becoming "just like them" in some senses. And yet most kids/teens/young-adults pass through a phase where all things parental appear on the surface like the biggest embarrassment dolled out in human history. You embark upon negating--publicly and personally--those characteristics and attributes that tie you to mom, dad, or whoever raises you. The goal: complete denial of any willing affiliation with these unfortunately related losers. And then there comes another phase, the phase when you wake up and realize how hard they worked, how little you appreciated them--and in some cases (like mine), how you took advantage of them with minimal consideration of the consequences. Quite immediately the process of acting right, showing your gratitude, and making them proud begins. The irresponsible child blossoms into responsible citizen. Hard-work, degrees, awards. They stand there, in the moments when you receive the tokens of having your shit together and cry because, yes, there were hard times, but not all stands in vain. You cry too, because those tears, not the degrees or awards, manifest the reality you have worked so hard to actualize. You hope this most recent addition to the offspring-achievement archive offsets the years of ditching school, D's and F's in science and math, coming home too late, suspensions for getting high at the park above campus, etc. It is almost as if atonement happens when you can get your parent to change their mind about who you are. If they see you as rehabilitated and successful, then perhaps you are. If they brag to their friends about your achievements, then perhaps you really are bragging material. This latter phase still consists of making that parental figure the source/center of decision-making. And it's still self-centered. It's still about proving, showing, reacting and convincing yourself that you're not so bad after all.
I've been told, and am beginning to see, that the next phase of individuation consists of realizing that becoming your own person requires active, not reactive choices when it comes to career choice, relational patterns and ways of coping with everyday stress. Further "becoming your own person" is less the goal than joining those movements and forces of/in the world that bring about the common good; you begin to realize that ending hunger, curbing your habits to ensure a future for the unborn, and participating in local politics matter a whole lot more than what your mom thinks about your newest haircut. You no longer feel the need to vehemently reject those things about your parents that drive you crazy and you no longer feel the need to make all your decisions in accordance with their hopes for you. Much like the famous 12-step colloquialism: you take what you like and leave the rest. Sounds good, right?
Well, sorta. One thing Marjorie Suchocki wrote stands out at this point (and I am not quoting verbatim here): the problem with letting go of a familiar pattern or way of being in the world is that the future is never certain. In a sense, when you give up what you've always done, you're doing so without a clue about how the outcomes will play out. So for those of us who are moving from one individuation stage to the next, from either outright rejecting or completely surrendering to our parents all the time, we stand on a precipice of sorts. We are giving up the mediating source of our development and putting ourselves into the breezy, undetermined, future of a world that molds us in accordance with our ability to come and go when it calls and pushes. So little control. So little familiarity. Yikes.
I don't think I need to provide a list here of the benefits that come with entering into and working through this stage of adulthood. But I'm pretty sure one of those gifts is being able to choose, not from robotic compulsion but intentional strength, the parameters of one's relationship to hir parents. The relationship can be grounded in mutuality and mature giving and receiving born of love and respect. The relationship can move beyond duty and physical/monetary dependency for survival into a friendship that deepens the quality of life for all parties involved.
But there's also a huge loss that comes with such movement. That's what I sat down to write about this morning. I carry so many pieces of my mom with me, carry them with me on the job, in the market, in my head, in my body, and I definitely listen to her come out of my mouth these days (even when I least expect it). I don't see my mom very often--every couple of months at best. So I miss her a lot. As I go through this process of intentionally keeping and letting go of those pieces of her that I carry around, it hurts to let go of some of those pieces because they have kept her "with me" as we've been apart. Those pieces of her that I'm letting go do not keep her "with me" in healthy ways. That's why I'm letting go! So it's a good thing. But regardless: it's a loss. There's sadness and grief involved. Like I said: it hurts like hell.
Perhaps the innate developmental process of mimetic behavior creates such pain. How else do we learn to live, move, and have our being (to quote Paul who was quoting the Sophists, I think(?)) besides copying the gestures, actions and relational patterns of our primary care-providers? We cannot escape becoming "just like them" in some senses. And yet most kids/teens/young-adults pass through a phase where all things parental appear on the surface like the biggest embarrassment dolled out in human history. You embark upon negating--publicly and personally--those characteristics and attributes that tie you to mom, dad, or whoever raises you. The goal: complete denial of any willing affiliation with these unfortunately related losers. And then there comes another phase, the phase when you wake up and realize how hard they worked, how little you appreciated them--and in some cases (like mine), how you took advantage of them with minimal consideration of the consequences. Quite immediately the process of acting right, showing your gratitude, and making them proud begins. The irresponsible child blossoms into responsible citizen. Hard-work, degrees, awards. They stand there, in the moments when you receive the tokens of having your shit together and cry because, yes, there were hard times, but not all stands in vain. You cry too, because those tears, not the degrees or awards, manifest the reality you have worked so hard to actualize. You hope this most recent addition to the offspring-achievement archive offsets the years of ditching school, D's and F's in science and math, coming home too late, suspensions for getting high at the park above campus, etc. It is almost as if atonement happens when you can get your parent to change their mind about who you are. If they see you as rehabilitated and successful, then perhaps you are. If they brag to their friends about your achievements, then perhaps you really are bragging material. This latter phase still consists of making that parental figure the source/center of decision-making. And it's still self-centered. It's still about proving, showing, reacting and convincing yourself that you're not so bad after all.
I've been told, and am beginning to see, that the next phase of individuation consists of realizing that becoming your own person requires active, not reactive choices when it comes to career choice, relational patterns and ways of coping with everyday stress. Further "becoming your own person" is less the goal than joining those movements and forces of/in the world that bring about the common good; you begin to realize that ending hunger, curbing your habits to ensure a future for the unborn, and participating in local politics matter a whole lot more than what your mom thinks about your newest haircut. You no longer feel the need to vehemently reject those things about your parents that drive you crazy and you no longer feel the need to make all your decisions in accordance with their hopes for you. Much like the famous 12-step colloquialism: you take what you like and leave the rest. Sounds good, right?
Well, sorta. One thing Marjorie Suchocki wrote stands out at this point (and I am not quoting verbatim here): the problem with letting go of a familiar pattern or way of being in the world is that the future is never certain. In a sense, when you give up what you've always done, you're doing so without a clue about how the outcomes will play out. So for those of us who are moving from one individuation stage to the next, from either outright rejecting or completely surrendering to our parents all the time, we stand on a precipice of sorts. We are giving up the mediating source of our development and putting ourselves into the breezy, undetermined, future of a world that molds us in accordance with our ability to come and go when it calls and pushes. So little control. So little familiarity. Yikes.
I don't think I need to provide a list here of the benefits that come with entering into and working through this stage of adulthood. But I'm pretty sure one of those gifts is being able to choose, not from robotic compulsion but intentional strength, the parameters of one's relationship to hir parents. The relationship can be grounded in mutuality and mature giving and receiving born of love and respect. The relationship can move beyond duty and physical/monetary dependency for survival into a friendship that deepens the quality of life for all parties involved.
But there's also a huge loss that comes with such movement. That's what I sat down to write about this morning. I carry so many pieces of my mom with me, carry them with me on the job, in the market, in my head, in my body, and I definitely listen to her come out of my mouth these days (even when I least expect it). I don't see my mom very often--every couple of months at best. So I miss her a lot. As I go through this process of intentionally keeping and letting go of those pieces of her that I carry around, it hurts to let go of some of those pieces because they have kept her "with me" as we've been apart. Those pieces of her that I'm letting go do not keep her "with me" in healthy ways. That's why I'm letting go! So it's a good thing. But regardless: it's a loss. There's sadness and grief involved. Like I said: it hurts like hell.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Berkeley Bowl, Ashby, Smog Check & Chipotle
I had one of those days today. You know: one of those days. Everywhere I went, I felt like an alien. And every person I saw looked to/at me like a zombie.
I found myself walking the aisles of Berkeley bowl, and if traveling for 12 days and then packing/moving/unloading for 24 hours straight upon arriving home doesn't give you an uprooted, displaced, where-the-hell-am-i feeling, then certainly produce shopping with your local brand hippies will. These people are straight whack jobs. Worse than the Trader Joes populace--for real. Yes, i know it's judge/mental. Moving on. My experience so paralleled a Don Delillo novel that I wondered a couple times if I was dreaming. The 25-year old woman behind the cash register, dressed in pigtails with little pink balls on her scrunchies, was running items over the scanner (complete with the traditional beep-beep chorus) while staring up into space and cracking her gum every five seconds. She literally looked like she was standing in the shower, letting the water wash over her scalp with that euphoric and other-worldly look on her face, while the woman buying every locally grown, organic product on the Berkeley Bowl shelves stood way too close to me in line. She smelled like patchouli. How quaint. Hippies consider themselves humanists, right? So why do their people skills suck? She even took my divider off the market run-way without asking so the checked-out checker almost mixed our items! Then the patchouli-smelling, dreadlock dangling diva had the nerve to look at me as if it were my fault.
Next I had the all-too-familiar and unpleasant experience of being stuck behind a left-turning car on the corner of shattuck and ashby for 10 minutes in rush hour traffic. Let me just say this for the record: all things ashby should be avoided except from midnight-4am on weekdays. Moving on. I witnessed 3-near accidents, one including a biker who thought he could dash the traffic signs and then screamed at the truck who almost hit him--a truck that had a green light and the right of way. I'm sure his pride about "saving the oaks" enables him to have the spiritual right away all the time, but tell that to the 6'9 tattooed construction worker who has now pulled his Ford F-250 over and is getting out to come have a word with the entitled cyclist. Fortunately the car ahead of me turned left before I had to watch the altercation ensue.
Next I take PSR's honda accord to get a smog check. Pleasantly surprised by the friendliness and efficiency of the man-behind-the-counter, I make the decision that my day is normalizing only to walk pass the Watchtower (or whatever the hell that scary magazine is called) sitting in the waiting area. Why is it that unwarranted friendly--the kind of friendliness that feels too good to be true because it always is in these cases--always seems to come with the desire to proselytize? Since I'm in no condition to convert to Jehovah Witnesshood, I decide to go down the street to Chipotle. Burritto in hand and handily prepared to distract myself from the hawaain-shirt wearing, loud-talking lunatics in the corner, I pull out my most recent obsession, a Philip Roth novel, only to discover way too many similarly silly narrative scenes waiting for me in literature.
Sometimes things feel so unreal that I have to write about them, just to stay sane. If you had the patience to read this: good for you and thanks. If not: I don't blame you and congratulations for avoiding my rant.
I found myself walking the aisles of Berkeley bowl, and if traveling for 12 days and then packing/moving/unloading for 24 hours straight upon arriving home doesn't give you an uprooted, displaced, where-the-hell-am-i feeling, then certainly produce shopping with your local brand hippies will. These people are straight whack jobs. Worse than the Trader Joes populace--for real. Yes, i know it's judge/mental. Moving on. My experience so paralleled a Don Delillo novel that I wondered a couple times if I was dreaming. The 25-year old woman behind the cash register, dressed in pigtails with little pink balls on her scrunchies, was running items over the scanner (complete with the traditional beep-beep chorus) while staring up into space and cracking her gum every five seconds. She literally looked like she was standing in the shower, letting the water wash over her scalp with that euphoric and other-worldly look on her face, while the woman buying every locally grown, organic product on the Berkeley Bowl shelves stood way too close to me in line. She smelled like patchouli. How quaint. Hippies consider themselves humanists, right? So why do their people skills suck? She even took my divider off the market run-way without asking so the checked-out checker almost mixed our items! Then the patchouli-smelling, dreadlock dangling diva had the nerve to look at me as if it were my fault.
Next I had the all-too-familiar and unpleasant experience of being stuck behind a left-turning car on the corner of shattuck and ashby for 10 minutes in rush hour traffic. Let me just say this for the record: all things ashby should be avoided except from midnight-4am on weekdays. Moving on. I witnessed 3-near accidents, one including a biker who thought he could dash the traffic signs and then screamed at the truck who almost hit him--a truck that had a green light and the right of way. I'm sure his pride about "saving the oaks" enables him to have the spiritual right away all the time, but tell that to the 6'9 tattooed construction worker who has now pulled his Ford F-250 over and is getting out to come have a word with the entitled cyclist. Fortunately the car ahead of me turned left before I had to watch the altercation ensue.
Next I take PSR's honda accord to get a smog check. Pleasantly surprised by the friendliness and efficiency of the man-behind-the-counter, I make the decision that my day is normalizing only to walk pass the Watchtower (or whatever the hell that scary magazine is called) sitting in the waiting area. Why is it that unwarranted friendly--the kind of friendliness that feels too good to be true because it always is in these cases--always seems to come with the desire to proselytize? Since I'm in no condition to convert to Jehovah Witnesshood, I decide to go down the street to Chipotle. Burritto in hand and handily prepared to distract myself from the hawaain-shirt wearing, loud-talking lunatics in the corner, I pull out my most recent obsession, a Philip Roth novel, only to discover way too many similarly silly narrative scenes waiting for me in literature.
Sometimes things feel so unreal that I have to write about them, just to stay sane. If you had the patience to read this: good for you and thanks. If not: I don't blame you and congratulations for avoiding my rant.
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