Saturday, July 10, 2010

Tragic truths

I just finished the previously-mentioned Black Like Me, an eye-opening account of the absurdity of racial hatred in our nation's recent history. In the late 1950s, John Howard Griffin, a white journalist from Texas, is haunted persistently by these questions:

"If a white man became a Negro in the Deep South, what adjustments would he have to make? What is it like to experience discrimination based on skin color, something over which one has no control?" 

He decides one night to embark on a seven-week journey that would answer those questions by medically altering his skin color and experiencing the discrimination firsthand. The book is a series of journal entries, beginning the night he decides to pursue this project and ending with the world's reaction to his published work. Griffin's strength as a journalist in documenting his experience lies in his observation skills and his commitment to include details that powerfully evoke these situations for the reader.

In an afterword, Griffin's biographer Robert Bonazzi explains:
The book's evocation of naked experience, of what is being done to the narrator rather than what he does, draws us toward the center, engages our emotions and all of our senses. We view scenes in vivid detail, hear precise tones in the dialogue and interior monologue, smell fear, and taste dread ...
The power of the book is rooted in the uncomfortable truth that many people who were impacted by it would not have listened to its revelations if they were not written by a white man. If he had not been a part of a privileged class and documented the respect and dignity he was freely given before changing only his appearance, his experience would have been written off.

The flaw of the book springs from the same place of its power. While Griffin as a black man relearns social conditioning to act according to societal expectations, and while he approaches each situation with the methodology of a sociologist, he never fully relinquishes his white perspective. There are passages that, though well-intended, come across sounding racially paternalistic. He also has the luxury of being able to escape the despair of the ghetto when it begins to close in on him by asking to stay with a friend in the white area of town.

That being said, the book is still one motivated by a rare sense of humanity and courage, given the time period. Despite its weaknesses, I will echo the back cover's recommendation that this "chillingly relevant eyewitness history is a work about race and humanity every American must read."

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Bite-sized inspiration

"I've come to believe that each of us has a personal calling that's as unique as a fingerprint - and that the best way to succeed is to discover what you love and then find a way to offer it to others in the form of service, working hard, and also allowing the energy of the universe to lead you."

--Oprah Winfrey, O Magazine, September 2002

Possibilities

I love this ad for its storytelling and the message of remaining open to Life's possibilities. (Like all ads featured on this blog, I am not endorsing the product nor do I have any connection to the company.) 



In a nod to Jung's synchronicity theory, Michael Buble released this song shortly before AT&T aired the ad. For a while, I pointed discouraged friends to it for a dose of optimism and hope. Then I found out that he cast his girlfriend as the main lead, which makes the song ring hollow. Not well-played, Buble. All the same, voila:

Monday, July 5, 2010

A Conflicted Fourth

Each Fourth of July, regardless of my location in the world, I have worn my colors, sang the songs, watched the fireworks and felt very patriotic. I'd think of the brave men and women who put everything on the line to found this country, risking liberty and life, (in the case of men) leaving wife and children to draw up the documents we still refer to today, and then fight battles in primitive conditions to defend the rights they declared.

I'd think of the men and women who continue to put their lives on the line to defend U.S. interests and the sacrifices they make. Having kept in touch with my friend while he serves in Afghanistan, I have new respect and appreciation for everything that entails.

While I am still a proud American, this Fourth was completely different for me. Watching the fireworks was the only thread of continuity linking me to years past. What's different now is that my vision's gone from 2-D to 3-D. Added to the cardboard cutouts of our founding fathers frozen in their moments of glory is a crowd of faces behind them - each with its own heartbreaking tragedy to tell: being sold like livestock, daily life steeped in condescension, lashings, losing family members to the auction block or at the hands of a bigot, and the death of dreams. Now I replay the parades, flag-waving, speeches about liberty and God's role in this young nation at the same time that this quilt of heartbreak and horror is going on in plain sight -- and it makes it impossible for me to celebrate the holiday as I used to. I'm not trying to be a downer, I just feel like we need to be telling the whole story in context because otherwise it's propaganda. Without context, it's an insult to the memory of the faces in that crowd and a disservice to the future of this country.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Early start

The alarm goes off at 4:45 a.m.



We look at each other, stunned to be up before daylight. Her eyes ask me: "You sure we have to do this?"


The reward for getting up.



Thursday, July 1, 2010

A soul's plea

Anybody who's been in a controlling relationship or has been victimized by injustice or discrimination knows that freedom is built into our souls; that the form of any oppression upon us, the manipulation of heart, mind and/or liberty, is a grave offense and that that violation resonates to our very core.

--February 4, 2009

Tuned in

For not being much of a TV-watcher, I sometimes get made fun of for ordering two (count 'em, two!) premium channels: TV5Monde (French) and RaiItalia (Italian). But tonight I was reminded of why I keep them in my package. Not only do they help me maintain language skills, but they also consistently have beautiful, artistic films I would never find through Netflix or iTunes; and vegging out is still somewhat intellectually engaging when I turn to one of these channels instead of the reality TV alternatives.

Tonight I happened to catch the last two-thirds of a WWII movie called 'Zone Libre' (Free Zone). I won't go into too much detail but the movie focuses on one part of a family that is split up and hiding with a French peasant who is protecting them from Nazi sympathizers. The quality of the acting and the cinematic storytelling were top-notch. I noticed aspects of the experience I had never thought of from previous exposure to other WWII movies and books. In one scene, the peasant Monsieur Maury stops to check on three of the women he is protecting -- two sisters and their mother -- at the isolated farmhouse and he brings them a bouquet of lilacs. Their expressions of delight and gratitude spurred me to think of the profound nature and impact this seemingly tiny gesture offers.

***

To anybody else it's just a bouquet.
But to us - we who are stuck in the shadows of a hostile world,
denied the luxury of 'normalcies' and faced instead with
yellow stars, boxcars, family losses and death camps -
these flowers remind us of the beauty that can still grow
in a world as crazy as ours,
where men engineer systems of annihilation
and lose sight of humanity.

These flowers show us the kindness
that can survive despite the bleak times,
of the humanity and goodness in some
that rise to outdo the evil of the day.

These remind us that we can choose who we become,
even in the worst-case scenario
we can mimic or defy our captors
in the adopted attitudes and values we display.

These blooms may be the only sweet-smelling fragrance
we encounter while hiding out on this farm,
here with the smells of sweat and sh*t and animals.

They may be our only visible sign of hope
and they sustain our will to live
when we think of the beauty this world can offer,
the goodness of those around us,
and we take a sensual escape from our imprisonment.

But to anybody else, it's just a bouquet.