There has been so much going on in the past several months. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to determine that we need a frank and open discussion about race in this country.
We haven't heard much from Paula Deen since the initial controversy. She cancelled an October appearance at the NY Wine and Food Festival. Since she no longer has a relationship with the Food Network, it isn't surprising. George Zimmerman was found not guilty. Some people are happy about it, but a lot of others are not. Then there's the "Big Brother" controversy, where racist, homophobic and misogynistic behavior has incurred the wrath of the Internet. (See: http://onewomansopin.blogspot.com/2013/07/big-brother-controversy.html) The comments flying back and forth on social media haven't been helpful. People are angry. They are hurt and they are confused.
So how do we start the discussion? The truth is there are two or more sides to everything. Unfortunately, so many people only see one side of an issue. They aren't open other possibilities. Cultural differences complicate matters. America is a melting pot. We grow up in different cultures. They can be ethnic or regional and not understanding how different we all are is a major roadblock. Throw in "noise" to the mix. Noise is what keeps us from understanding the original intention of a communication. Ever send an email that was completely misinterpreted? That's an example of noise. (See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Communication)
There are so many factors keeping us from communicating, but somehow we have to get past all that and start listening to each other more. Twitter and Facebook restrict us in the way we communicate. It is hard to get an idea across when you are limited to 140 characters. They also offer us anonymity. People say some awful things on social media sites that they would never do in person. This pours fuel on the fire and is another barrier to communication.
So what do we do? Talk to each other! Listen and learn! Let your guard down and prepare to have your thoughts and ideas challenged. Agree to disagree, but respect the other person's opinion. Hang in there until you read understand what the other person is saying.
I've said this before and I will say it again. The hate has to stop. Life is too short for this.
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There has been a lot of
controversy surrounding Paula Deen’s admission that she used the
"n" word thirty years ago. I
do not believe there is another word in our vocabulary as offensive.
Paula has been publicly
flogged for her admission. I will not be her judge and jury. I am
concerned that the younger generation does not understand why that word is so
offensive. They hear it daily in music,
in movies and on television. I am afraid
that its constant usage will give them the impression that it is nothing more
than a slang term. I hope that the
following story illustrates how vile that word really is.
I grew up in the 50’s. I lived in an apartment building on the south
side of Chicago. Shortly after I turned
five, my mother announced that she was expecting a baby. I was thrilled. Unfortunately, she had a very difficult
pregnancy. She was flat on her back for
the duration. My mother needed someone
to take care of me while my Dad worked so she asked her friend, Mrs. Brown, if
her daughter could babysit that summer.
Mrs. Brown’s daughter was
nicknamed Sister and she was so cool!
She had a poodle skirt, bobby socks, and saddle shoes. She wore her hair in a ponytail that swished
when she walked. I couldn’t wait for her
to get off the bus every morning.
My mother was happy
too. Sister took excellent care of me
and kept the apartment clean. I was a
lonely only child and I loved her. She
taught me how to jump rope and use a hula hoop.
I was in heaven!
One day will forever
stand out in my mind. My mother needed
something from the grocery store. She
gave Sister some money and hand-in-hand we went. There were two small Mom and Pop shops in my
neighborhood. We went to the first
store, but they didn’t have what we needed.
We had to walk a bit further to the second store. We opened the door, but stopped in the
doorway. I remember Sister standing
there quietly holding my hand. There was
a man and woman standing at the counter talking to the store owner who was
standing behind it. They turned to look
at us. I don’t remember hearing what was
said, but we never went into the store.
Sister turned around and we walked home.
She handed the money back to my mother.
They never said a word, but something passed between them when they
looked into each others eyes.
A few days later, our
landlord paid us a visit. My mother had
a great deal of respect for him. He was
a displaced person. He had escaped Poland
with his wife and children during WWII, leaving his mother behind. He had been through so much. He approached my mother with tears in his
eyes. He had received threats that if he
didn’t get rid of the ******, the building would be bombed. This man left Poland for the United States to
escape persecution. He was horrified
that he was in this position. There were
at least ten children living in that apartment building. My mother spoke with Mrs. Brown and Sister
never returned.
I could tell you similar
stories, but it is my hope this one is sufficient. I believe in forgiveness. It was a different time. People acted out of fear and ignorance. I know that many look back in shame at what
they said or did. We grow. We learn.
We mature. We move on. But we should never be complacent. This word shouldn’t be used by anyone. It needs to be removed from the American
vocabulary.
June 27, 2013
I realized that people might misunderstand or misinterpret what I wrote. I want to clear up any possible misconceptions. My mother was very close to Mrs. Brown. They worked side by side on an assembly line before my mother had to take time off to have my brother. My mother hired Sister because she was her friend's daughter and she knew her well.
My mother and our landlord were appalled by the threats. Our landlord fled Poland to escape the Nazis. He thought he was bringing his family to a country where all were safe from persecution. He regretted having to ask this of my mother, but felt he had no choice. The safety of the building's children was his responsibility. My mother agreed out of fear for Sister's safety. Although the bigot's might think twice before blowing up a building full of children, they would not have any problems attacking Sister as she got off the bus.
My family remained friends with the Browns for many years. Although Sister never returned, Mrs. Brown and her youngest daughter visited us on a regular basis. We would visit the Browns, as well.
There are those who look back at the 50's with nostalgia. I have never understood why.
June 27, 2013
I realized that people might misunderstand or misinterpret what I wrote. I want to clear up any possible misconceptions. My mother was very close to Mrs. Brown. They worked side by side on an assembly line before my mother had to take time off to have my brother. My mother hired Sister because she was her friend's daughter and she knew her well.
My mother and our landlord were appalled by the threats. Our landlord fled Poland to escape the Nazis. He thought he was bringing his family to a country where all were safe from persecution. He regretted having to ask this of my mother, but felt he had no choice. The safety of the building's children was his responsibility. My mother agreed out of fear for Sister's safety. Although the bigot's might think twice before blowing up a building full of children, they would not have any problems attacking Sister as she got off the bus.
My family remained friends with the Browns for many years. Although Sister never returned, Mrs. Brown and her youngest daughter visited us on a regular basis. We would visit the Browns, as well.
There are those who look back at the 50's with nostalgia. I have never understood why.
