The American Experience

I’m kind of all set with the “white-people-are-being-oppressed” trumped up nonsense being peddled by the same mouth-breathing, knuckle-draggers that brought us the “War on Christmas”.

Really. Over it.

I’ve read and listened as people try to define their experience as the “typical” American experience. How arrogant are you? To decide that you define the American experience? More than that, I’m disgusted as they try to deny experiences that are different from theirs or consider them as atypical or not fully American. How reprehensible is that? To deny someone their experiences as irrelevant or unimportant.

There are more than 300 million people in America. Know what that means? That means that there are more than 300 million ways to be American. None of which are more right or proper than any other. Everyone forges their own experiences - their own life story. The commonality we share is that they are American experiences.

Unique. Enduring. Individual.

Watching and reading the reaction to the Trayvon Martin case almost made me lose my mind. Watching as some try to co-opt the African-American experiences of institutional racism and oppression, I’m left thinking: This is evil; you are evil and you need to stop.

You look – and sound – like crazy people and If I hear one more person tell me that racism is dead, I will seriously lose my shit.

A young man was shot and killed. His killer was acquitted and instead of decrying the loss of innocent life, people are celebrating. Fucking celebrating. That a boy is dead. That parents lost a child. They are pissed off that the president dare answer a question about the case in a thoughtful and honest way. How dare he?! He’s a racist. He wants to start a race war! Muslims. Or some other fucking bullshit. By acknowledging Trayvon Martin, the president did not piss on all the other young men and women who have been murdered before or since. He spoke to his experiences as a black man in America and people got pissed and said his experiences were not authentic. Grow the fuck up.

Or let’s talk about this: A New York singer, born and bred, had the temerity to stand up and sing “God Bless America” and because he didn’t look sufficiently “American” racists on Twitter lost their collective shit. Yeah, racism is so over.

Stop it. Just stop. You look like fucking morons.

White people are not oppressed. Not in any way, shape or form. Shop keepers are not following my fair-haired, blue-eyed son around. People do not cross the street when they see him coming. Women do not walk a little faster if he walks behind them.

Because he has the privilege of being white in America.

That makes his life less of a hassle.

I’m not saying that he’ll have an easy life. He may not. I’m not saying that he’ll get everything he wants or needs. He almost certainly won’t. But he won’t be handicapped because of the color of his skin, or by the texture of his hair, or burdened with the “wrong” last name.

Because he has the privilege of being white in America.

If you can’t – or won’t – see that being white in America is still a pretty fucking great thing, you are damaged in a real and fundamental way and I pity you. 

An American Family

Apparently the military has started telling families that their deployed servicemen and women aren’t coming home as scheduled because we don’t have the money. Seriously. Uncle Sam is now your deadbeat uncle that can’t come up with the twenty you lent him last payday. He’ll catch ya next time as he mumbles something about brakes and a demanding baby mama or some other such nonsense. Honestly though you knew you weren’t getting that twenty back as soon as he snatched it from your hand. 

Uncle Sam though, he’s supposed to be different. He’s not supposed to be that guy. Or at least I thought he wasn’t. 

Old Sammy boy needs to pull his head out of his ass and get people home as promised when promised, barring any change in circumstances of a military nature. Being strapped for cash is not a reason to abandon our troops and their families. Not even a little ok. 

I get that servicemen and women sacrifice much in order to serve and protect and they’ve handed themselves over to our military to deploy as necessary. That comes with very specific risk and a tremendous loss over their schedules and lives. They understand this when they enlist, as do their families. The least – the very least – that you can do is not jerk them around. They sacrifice their time. 

They miss milestones: birthdays and first steps and anniversaries and graduations. They miss the mundane: driving kids to school and being scout leaders and making breakfast and yelling at their kids and painting their houses and fighting with their spouse. They miss a lot. For our benefit and protection. Let’s not make it harder for them. 

This was brought to my attention by a friend who has two boys serving on active duty. One is a Marine on his second deployment. This time in Quatar; his first was in Afghanistan. He was supposed to be home the first week in March. Over a month ago. They cancelled him and gave him a new date. March 14. Cancelled again. They mentioned April 7th. The family is cautiously optimistic but they’re not sending out invitations to the homecoming party either. 

Their oldest son is in the Air Force. He’s been approved and scheduled for a course that requires tuition assistance but they had revoked that benefit (although according to the most recent news that benefit has been reinstated.) However, that could change at any time which makes it difficult to plan for your future and advance your career. Frustrating and entirely unnecessary. 

I’m discouraged by my friend’s frustration and I’m disgusted with the games that are being played with our servicemen and women and their families. Disgusted that Washington is pitting regular, ordinary American’s against each other in their rush to be the country’s biggest ass. Well done you, you’re all giant asses. 

She mentioned to me that her youngest son wants to follow, not only in his brothers’ footsteps, but in the footsteps of his ancestors. This family’s military service stretches back five generations and they are seriously considering trying to talk their youngest son into not serving. 

How’s that for an American tragedy?

Over and Above

Teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition.  ~Jacques Barzun

The other morning I was hanging out, waiting for Emma as she auditioned for a summer dance program. It was going to be a long morning. Registration started at 10 with the audition scheduled to be over at 2. We’ve been to the venue before so I knew there were benches, so with a fully charged kindle and brand new book downloaded, I was good for the duration.

But the day had other plans for me.

We arrived a little early since parking in Boston is challenging even on Sunday morning. One of Emma’s classmates was already there, warming up. A few minutes later more of her classmates arrived. Then one of her dance teachers.

I had met the teacher, briefly, the night before at a school performance so we quickly said our ‘hellos’ and then he got busy with the dancers, making sure they were really stretching and checking that everyone had a good breakfast. I listened as he laughed with the kids and answered questions about the school they were auditioning for, his alma mater. Sitting there, eavesdropping as he interacted with his students, I was reminded, again, of how teachers are vilified.

I watched as this teacher spent half of his Sunday making sure his students were relaxed and prepared for an audition. I watched him dig into the giant bag he carried with him for items that the students either forgot or, for whatever reason, did not have.

In between his ministrations, he sat down and we had several terrific conversations. I learned about his dance background and how he came to teaching – after a career ending accident. I heard the passion in his voice as he talked about “his” kids, especially the seniors that were there auditioning for college, and how much each of them mean to him. I saw on his face the absolute passion for what he does.

To say I was impressed would be a tremendous understatement.

We talked about the challenges of teaching in the inner city and the unique challenges of teaching at a performance arts high school. We talked about our similar backgrounds growing up – same cultural heritage and socioeconomic background.

During our free-ranging conversation, he would get up and peek in the window to see how they were doing. Or he would jump up when they came out for water or a shoe change to see how they felt and to offer encouragement and some gentle correction.

More important than what he was doing, I saw how his students reacted to him. They stood taller when he walked in. I’m pretty sure they weren’t even conscious that they did. I watched as their nerves were calmed as he turned his attention to each of them, individually. He had a smile and positive words for each one. I listened as they teased him and called him by his first name, something they would never do in school. I was impressed by their maturity.

It made me glad that we decided to put Emma in this environment.

I wonder how often scenes like this play out all over America; teachers giving up their free time to help their students succeed.

I’m sure it happens more than we all realize. I know it happens more often than folks are willing to admit. 

Take a minute today and thank a teacher, they earned it and they certainly deserve it.

Enough is Enough

I really haven't been myself this week.

I'm so beyond done with all the stupid crap that has been swirling around since Friday that I just do not care anymore what people think or feel about what I write.

This started as a status update on Facebook but it grew so quickly that I felt it deserved it's own blog post.

I'm disappointed.

In people.

Deeply and – what feels at this moment – irreversibly disappointed.

Disappointed with people I know,

Disappointed with those I don’t.

But I’m not just disappointed; I’m tired.

I'm tired of hearing that all society's ills are because we can’t pray in school.

I’m tired of explaining that homosexuality isn’t a life-style choice.

I’m tired of hearing that abortion is what is ruining America.

I’m tired of defending my gender and their fight to control their own bodies and make their own decisions.

I’m tired of watching young black men die just for being black.

I’m tired of watching people try to keep us divided in order to control us.

But I’m not just tired; I’m disgusted.

I’m disgusted with religions and religious people who preach hate and bigotry and label those who believe differently as evil.

I’m disgusted that we have people who think arming teachers is a solution.

I’m disgusted that people think that prayer in schools would have changed anything.

I’m disgusted with myself and others like me that have turned a blind eye to the massacre of urban black children but spring to action and demand Congress act when a school full of suburban white children are slaughtered.

But I’m not just disgusted; I’m outraged.

I’m outraged that we even need to have a discussion on whether someone should be allowed to own and possess weapons that are designed to slaughter the most people in the shortest amount of time.

But I'm not just outraged; I'm sad.

I'm sad that people will call for more and better access to mental health care yet want to cut funding to the very services that would provide the care, including repealing Obamacare.

I'm sad that people vilify teachers as lazy and incompetent then post pictures calling them heroes.

I'm especially sad that these people are not "others". They are friends and family and colleagues.