Disclaimer: Racism, police brutality, and racial profiling are not always connected topics. Each can be as dangerous with or without the others present. This post is in reference to a particular book and specific incidences of the three intertwined.
“But here are the words that kept ricocheting around me all day: Nobody says the words anymore, but somehow the violence still remains. If I didn’t want the violence to remain, I had to do a hell of a lot more than just say the right things and not say the wrong things.” Jason Reynolds & Brendan Kiely, All-American Boys
It’s easy to sit in my culturally diverse suburb, and teach at my 40/40/10/10 school, and feel like a well-adjusted, culturally blended, superior-minded adult. I, thankfully, grew up in a home that didn’t judge based on things the eye could discern. And I sit in my house as I write this with my sweet black widow neighbor to the left, an Asian family across the street, a black couple next to them, and a multi-generational Hispanic family to my right. AHHhhhh, what a lovely world it is that the pot is finally melting us all together!
But what about when the news stories hit. What about when another case of police brutality involving an unarmed black man, or child, tops the headlines.
What then? Oh, we don’t riot or vandalize each other’s lawns. But our neighborhood quietly, politely starts to show lines of division. Helen next door solemnly dons her “Justice for Michael Brown” shirt, while Dan down the street quietly applies a “Back the Blue” bumper sticker to his new truck. Helen probably feels like the police are the new KKK, and Dan down the street can probably quote you all the times police have shot unarmed white men who don’t make the news. And the family of the cop around the corner probably looks over their shoulder a little more for a while. But neither will engage the other in any sort of debate. Neither will call the other foul names. Because nobody’s racist anymore. Right?
I just finished reading All-American Boys, by Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely, and I’m not sure why this isn’t required reading. Right. Now. (For the record, I hate required reading…but hear me out…I’m making a point.) Probably for the same reason the teacher in the book was discouraged (by administration) from continuing The Invisible Man after a student at their school was beaten by a security guard. It’s too much. It gets students all fired up. Last year in the classroom across from me, an actual fight broke out after an essay about police brutality was assigned. Oh, people talk about it all the time in one-sided discussions with like-minded friends. But it’s no wonder people avoid the topic in mixed company.
For people like me, the “Oh I can see both sides and I know people on both sides so I’ll just stay quiet unless someone asks and then I’ll make it clear I see both sides” people, there is a lesson in a quote that expresses what has been tried and tested throughout history, through religious persecution, the civil rights and women’s rights movements, in times of war, and certainly amid the horrors of genocide: IF YOU ARE NEUTRAL IN SITUATIONS OF INJUSTICE, YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE SIDE OF THE OPPRESSOR. – Desmond Tutu. So, in essence, “seeing both sides” is the same thing as not standing for either, including the one you think is right.
Just as there are non-violent ways for police to apprehend innocent-until-proven-guilty-subjects and place the alleged crime in the hands of our multi-cultural justice system, there are ways to go about reading books like this one and discussing these topics with young people in a non-provoking way that promotes unity and affects change.
Just like this book. Two writers from two different sides of American culture, who came together to write a book where the characters’ worlds were pretty well blended – much like the high school where I teach – but were fiercely divided in a time when headlines pit one against the other. To them, and in the real world of 2017, being racist didn’t necessarily mean overtly hating other races…it meant subconsciously siding with your “own kind” regardless of the facts, or what is right.
And if you don’t think real old-fashioned racism still exists, ask yourself this: Did your parents ever give you the speech? The list of ways you have to behave if the cops stop you? Never fight back. Never talk back. Keep your hands up. Keep your mouth shut. Just do what they ask you to do, and you’ll be fine (pp. 50, 289)…? Just checking.
This chapter in American history has to end someday, right? And it’s clear it’s not going to end with the older, scarred and divided generation. And it’s not going to end with or because of the polite generation I’m in. It’s going to end with our kids. Our students. Our future. They have to learn how to argue without fighting. They have to learn how to disagree without hating. They have to learn how to be different without excluding.
Because what if they don’t?
This entry was posted in authors, banned books, books, confidence, Decisions, family, Fear, inappropriate, language, Learning, Life lessons, Media, police brutality, racial profiling, racism, reading, rebel, students, Teaching, Uncategorized and tagged All-American Boys, Brendan Kiely, Jason Reynolds.
DISCLAIMER: I ❤ my high school classmates – Some of the most wonderful people I’ve ever known grew up in the same little town I did. Loved them then, love them now. But I absolutely h.a.t.e.d. high school. And now I teach high school. Maybe I love it because I feel like I can make it little less awful for some. Or maybe I enjoy the sweet redemption of figuring it all out now. Either way, it’s all part of the most awkward, uncomfortable, confusing stage of development. Nothing new under the sun.
“Stand up straight” is apparently what you’re supposed to whisper, like some weird form of Tourettes, to your self-conscious daughter any time she’s dressed up, in public, or otherwise already overwhelmingly preoccupied with her appearance. And the automatic response of the daughter will always be…drumroll…the twitch/scoff/eye-roll combined with the deeper, more dramatic slouch, which translates from Cavegirl as “Leave me alone or I’ll embarrass you as much as you embarrass me.” (“Ha! Not possible!” –me now, as the mom.)
So why didn’t I?
STAND UP STRAIGHT joins my list of “Things I Would Tell My Teenage Self to Do Now That I’m Old and Know Some Stuff”, along with MOISTURIZE (even though super dry flaky skin is in during your teens. sorry), USE BOTH STRAPS on your backpack ya fool (even though no one will dare do this your entire four years of high school for fear of looking like a nerd…Thanks a lot, Urkel), and FORGET ABOUT BOYS…you’re not going to find yours here (even though your second grade teacher will officiate fake weddings for her favorite students, perpetuating the idea that marriage is your primary purpose in life. somebody has to help sustain the population of small towns in Texas I suppose).
Here’s why I didn’t stand up straight. I figured it out this week while observing slouching teenage girls.
Every school has cliques. I teach at a very large high school now, and there are so, SO many. Mine had two. Cool, and Uncool. The weed-out process is much easier that way.
In accordance with ancient law, Cool status could only be guaranteed to four girls and four boys – prettiest/richest girl and her best friend, cutest/richest boy and his best friend, and the top male and female athletes, and their best friends. It’s the law.
An appeal can be made for special situations. I’ll call this group Cool by Association. CBAs can be promoted up from Uncool, but only while in close proximity to a Cool who acknowledges them, and only while properly cloaked in current brand names.
Uncool included everybody else — musicians, thespians, lesbians, late-bus riders, super smart kids, fairly dumb kids, poets-who-live-in-trailerhouses, mouth-breathers, chubby boys with a sense of humor, and Wanna-Bes. ( = girls who thought they were All That, when someone or something had clearly pre-determined that they weren’t.)
To this very day at high schools far and wide, the privilege of the Cools’ birthright comes with the responsibility to patrol and monitor the Uncools for confidence-levels deemed too high. (Most Cools are born with eyes that can eradicate confidence. CBAs can learn with diligent practice and imitation.) Their primary targets are the Wanna-Bes, who tend to bring it upon themselves. Trying a new makeup technique? – Side-eye with a hint of judgment! Donning cutting-edge fashion? – Stare and pantomime holding back laughter! Walking with confidence instead of staring at the ground in front of you? – Mimic, mock, repeat! a.k.a. Off with your head!
The long-term scars are deeper than I realized. I learned early on from these distinctions, that girls should NOT have confidence. Confidence equaled snobbiness. Well-behaved conforming female Uncools, with ANY hope of becoming a Cool someday, are
- not to accept compliments – discredit them as quickly as you can by immediately listing your flaws,
- not to stand up straight – if you walk with your shoulders back, you’re just trying to make people look at your boobs…big shirts, slouch, whatever, just hide ’em any way you can,
- permanently disqualified from ever fraternizing with the Cools if and when they decide to go past first base with a boy…in which case, you are granted lifetime status with the Sluts. They live in eternal purgatory outside both cliques. Sluts, lepers, kids with facial deformities, and fat kids with no sense of humor.
So why, now, at 41, does it still feel awkward to adjust my posture, head up, shoulders back, core lifted? If you haven’t read Popular: Vintage Wisdom for a Modern Geek, by Maya Van Wagenen, based on her 8th grade diary, you should.
And when you get to the chapter about poise and posture, you’ll find yourself thinking about your posture, holding your chest up like a precious jewel is resting atop your beautiful breasts. And it’ll feel nice. And it’ll also feel like you’re trying to be something you’re not. And that is why my mom was doomed to fail, trying to convince me to stand up straight and present an air of confidence.
And what’s so wrong with trying to be something you’re not? To think you’re perfect is snobby, right?. Thankfully, as adults, Cools and Uncools look a whole lot alike. We’re all dressing ourselves now, we live in towns where our last names mean nothing, and there are very few athletes left. We are grateful for ANY AND ALL compliments we receive, we admire each other’s confidence, and we’re all working pretty hard trying to be something we’re not – moisturizers, Pilates, (or Pilates cheap’n’easy cousin, Spanx), caffeine, repeat…We’re all just trying to recreate our high school selves, but this time with more wisdom, confidence, and kindness, and less drama, AquaNet, and junk food.
Also, I tell myself “Stand up straight” at least twenty times a day. Moms know.
Other notes to 1990s Angie from the future:
- You’re going to go back on your word to never ever stop tight-rolling.
- Columbia House will send you bills for twenty years for that 99 cent Paula Abdul collection.
- Musicians end up being the Cools.
This entry was posted in 40s, 70s, arts, authors, balance, career, cliques, confidence, creativity, ENFP, Fear, friends, Learning, Life lessons, mid-life, mom, music, musician, Parenting, Popularity, rebel, students, Teaching, Uncategorized, writing and tagged Maya Van Wagene, Popular.
Who knew a consecutive string of 365 days could be responsible for so much anguish in the world! 2016 killed people, I hear. Politicians and media are at their all-time suckage level. And worst of all – the Dab.
I have thoughts.
First, Liberia. I’m writing a piece with a friend, and I’ve had to do some research on Liberia. We may have a president with awful hair who is appalling and embarrassing and maybe even evil. And we may have lost some people (who we never met) (most who were old) (who we stopped paying attention to almost completely until we binged watched/listened immediately after the news of their passing to show our love and devotion). But guys. Please. We have homes with plumbing and cool air and heat and refrigeration and best of all Netflix! We can walk out of our homes with our Netflix (without getting shot) and get in our car (without getting bombed) and drive to work (where we earn a decent paycheck) and hang out with friends (without getting Ebola) and go out at night (without being raped)…What a great year it’s been for US…Yay!! If this has been your Worst Year Ever, you’re still one of the luckiest people on Earth.
The beauty of being American is, our politicians and media only affect you if you let them. So you’re the one at an all-time suckage level if they bother you. Plus, frown-lines, guys…don’t want ’em.
Second, guess what. Guess who made 2016 an embarrassment. We did. Maybe our ancestors contributed to our lineage of bad decision-making skills, so we can blame them a little, but we mostly did this to ourselves. We gave the Kardashians an inch (big inch) and Donald Trump took a mile (big mile. the biggest mile. tremendous miles.) We let news anchors fuel our thinking and GIFs and memes guide our emotions. We’ve kinda been the weakest generation. And our diplomas and degrees don’t mean much if we get our information from Twitter and mass media.
So just flip the freaking calendar…it’s just another day on Earth. People aren’t going to stop dying (especially if they keep getting old and/or shooting heroin). Nobody decent is ever going to want to run for office again now that they see how that all works. And the Dab will be replaced by something. even. dumber.
I’m going to do the splits in 2017. The center ones. And I’m going to continue to gauge my happiness by the world around me. The one I actually live in, the people I actually care about, and the life that’s actually treated me and mine very well lately, thank you very much.
This entry was posted in arts, confidence, creativity, Decisions, Dreams, family, Fear, friends, hippies, Independence, Learning, Life lessons, Loss, Marriage, Media, mid-life, Mission Statement, politics, rebel, Social Media, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, writing and tagged Donald Trump, Liberia, netflix.
One thing my boss learned about me in my final weeks at my job is that I’m a tightly-wound ball of loose, fun, colorful, frazzled yarn. Or maybe I’m a loosely-braided ball of really hard, tough wire. I don’t know…Who knows?!?! She looked at me with great sympathy and said, “It must be really stressful being you – you’re a walking contradiction of OCD and ADD.”
I was known as the free-spirit, the hippy, the rule-breaker, the “what box?” person in our office of 16. So it seemed strange to her when I melted down in my office and busted out with the admission that my house was in disarray because of the reno, my treadmill was out of commission, and it made me feel like my whole life was falling apart. Okay now that does sound dramatic. However, I thrive on structure and schedules and to-do lists, yet I operate in un-structured spontaneous irreverent ways. I finally realized that the lists and order are coping mechanisms I’ve developed to survive in the real world.
This got me thinking…Is there any part of me that is wholly and completely any one certain way? (These things are probably not unique to ENFPs, and certainly not unique to me…just a little self-realization at 40, that’s all.)
Political views: With regards to taxes, government-involvement, economic policy, domestic and global protection…completely Republican. With regards to personal decisions …completely Democrat. I realize this pretty much makes me a Libertarian, which pretty much makes me screwed.
Religious views: My dad, grandfather, and uncle are/were Southern Baptist ministers. I was raised in the church and am so thankful for it. I like believing in the things the Bible teaches. I like the way I feel/am/behave when I leave church. I think a lot of the world’s problems would be solved if more people knew and followed Jesus. I don’t believe everyone else has got it all wrong and are doomed to hell. I don’t believe science had no part in this. I don’t believe we should look any differently at people who don’t believe like we do. I don’t believe what Christianity is taught to be, in most cases, was what was intended. And even if I’m still afraid to be so brash as to claim that any parts of the Bible are wrong, humans are. All the time. And we’re the ones trying to read/teach/impose it. Language and metaphors and translations and interpretations are real actual things. Jenn Hatmaker says it best in her book, For the Love…”If it isn’t also true for a poor, single Christian mom in Haiti, it isn’t true.” Fact check, mic drop.
Career: I need someone to tell me exactly what to do, and then I want to do it completely differently and them not get mad. Good thing I’m going to be a teacher again.
Homosexuality: If you’re going to use the Bible for reference to claim something as a sin, you have to use the same Bible as your reference that God created everyone in His image. Never met a gay person who was faking it. Never met a gay person who hadn’t tried to be straight. I have lots of friends who are gay. Some of them are the very best at showing God’s love – why should I care who they show it to?
Gun control: Guns should be controlled, but if I want one, please sell me one. I don’t care about privacy when it comes to this topic. I believe in lots of regulations here. But I think the sudden surge in taboo-izing guns is part of the problem. I want to be the one to decide who gets to buy guns and who doesn’t. I think that might help.
Marriage/Family/Divorce: Going to have to make this one a separate post. Stay tuned.
Parenting: I want to give them tons of structure, bedtimes, schedules, rules to follow, expectations to meet, with tons of independence, freedom, and self-expression.
Media: I hate the media. 100% completely. There!!!…I found something without a “but”.
**The Myers-Briggs Personality test categorizes ENFPs (Extraversion, Intuition, Feeling, Perception…also known as Campaigners, Champions, Idealists) as constantly contradicting themselves because they genuinely see multiple sides to most situations. Sorry not sorry.
This entry was posted in 40s, ADD, arts, authors, balance, Blended family, busy schedules, career, creativity, Decisions, Dreams, ENFP, family, friends, home decor, Independence, language, Learning, Life lessons, Marriage, mid-life, obsessions, OCD, Parenting, rebel, renovation, Social Media, Step-parenting, students, Teaching, Uncategorized, writing and tagged Jen Hatmaker.
I’ve had five days off since my last day on the job, yet, in typical fashion, I’ve managed to make sure I don’t feel like it’s summer break. Not sure what’s in my head (single-mother syndrome?), but I’ve always tried my derndest to make sure no one has an opportunity to see me as “lazy”. I feel like I’ve always been so excited about summer, but never really really done what you’re supposed to do with it. Today might be different..
I’m going to justify some down-time today to write. Kwame Alexander answered a fourth grader’s question, “What is the hardest part about writing a book?” with the response, “BIC.” Butt In Chair.
Well my butt is in the chair, it’s 10a.m., I have a glass of Skinny-Girl wine in front of me and no bra on, so, by golly, it must be summer so I’m writing.
I’ve had a lot of posts swirling around in my head, and though I haven’t made time to write any of them down yet, I’m going to make a list of the posts I want to write over the next three or four days.
- My soon-to-be-published book, Where Poppy Lives – past lessons, present timeline, and future plans
- My conflicting views on just about everything & why they make me happy-slash-sad
- Inspired divorce (this one might merge with #2)
- Home reno update
- The boys of summer
I’m going to try something new for me…I’m going to leave this page right now, and I’m going to set up the drafts of each of these pages. Then I can add to them as I think of things – this technique more closely resembles my brain anyway, so it might be a better mode of operation for me. I will set them up, type a little, go get on the treadmill (better not take a second sip of this wine), and come back to each of them as required.
We leave for the lake (hallelujah) this Saturday, so my goal is to complete(ish) each of these by then because I want to be free of all brain activity by the time we get there. THAT will truly feel like summer. (Right?…I think…not sure I know what it’s supposed to feel like.)
This entry was posted in 40s, ADD, arts, authors, balance, busy schedules, career, Cleansing, confidence, creativity, Dreams, family, Home improvement, Learning, Life lessons, mid-life, obsessions, Parenting, renovation, students, Summer, Teaching, Uncategorized, writing and tagged Kwame Alexander.
I just deleted the whole post I had started (and almost finished) here because of how whiny it sounded when I reread it just now. I’ve been crying a lot. That’s it. Don’t know why (maybe job-change, house in boxes for upcoming reno, band seemingly slowly dismantling, treadmill isn’t working, watching Call the Midwife, allergies, lack of sleep, being 40, maybe.)
In the meantime I blamed everything else imaginable. I know it’s not my husband’s fault, or lacrosse’s, or his band’s, or anything else I accused. But I can’t really fix any of the likely culprits. So I’m going to stop whining. (I might not be able to stop crying, but I can stop whining.)
That’s it. Short post. If I keep going it’s going to turn into whining. (And probably crying.)
This entry was posted in 40s, balance, Blended family, busy schedules, career, cleaning, family, home decor, Home improvement, lacrosse, Life lessons, mid-life, Parenting, Teaching, Uncategorized, weight, writing and tagged Call the Midwife.
I spent 13 years living in Victoria, Texas, after spending ages 5-21 living in a small town just 25 miles away. Previous to my life in that area, I lived in Kennedale, Burnet (at a boys’ home), and La Porte (another boys’ home) – all in Texas. For brief smidgens of time in early adult-hood, I lived in Plano, Dallas, Vanderbilt, and Bay City.
I ran in various circles in Victoria – from teachers to piano students to church small groups to CAbi parties to volleyball moms to band gigs. Through all of that, I probably had something to do with almost everyone in town at some point. During my later years there, I came to the hard realization that there was no way I was going to be able to keep up with the lifestyle of my peers, and I found myself resenting where my circles had led (too much wine and spending too much money) and regretting the expectations my daughter had established growing up around friends with money and entitlement. She was about to fall off the edge in various ways, and in an attempt to save us both, I moved us here.
I moved to our current city – a suburb of Houston – almost four years ago, and – other than the town where I lived most of my childhood – never had I felt more at home. My husband has been here and involved for more than 13 years, and I do a lot of things with a lot of wonderful people here. Yet, it seems like when I least expect it, my Victoria friends show up in the most extraordinary ways.
I posted an “offer” on Facebook to take old books off anyone’s hands – I need to fill my shelves with great books that freshmen will embrace. I expected my current local acquaintances to chime in and help. Not a peep. Over ten offers from old Victoria friends in less than an hour though. One offered to hook me up with hundreds of books leftover from the Victoria Public Library purge. One offered me whatever I wanted from her school library purge. One drove an hour to meet me to bring me a box of books (and drink mimosas). And at least four others have offered to drop boxes of books off with my daughter for transport to me here. (One of hott husband’s H-town friends also offered books…I don’t want to neglect to mention her 🙂
I know it seems like a small, impersonal thing (books), but it puts a lump in my throat to think about it and feel the outpouring of support these folks show each other – and even me. I miss that. People in Victoria rally together. People in Victoria don’t do anything alone. People in Victoria are some of the most generous people I’ve ever known, and though I once felt like something of an outsider by the inherent “elitism”, I know they balance all of that out with their philanthropy, and then some. It’s a little bit like a cult, but they didn’t disfellowship me even when I moved away and haven’t talked to them in years, and even though I never had to resources to help them in the same way they helped me.
Social media helps maintain bonds that otherwise would fade away with time. I know I gripe about Facebook, but I know in my heart that if I moved to Botswana and was craving Whataburger and one of them found out, somebody would raise enough money to build a Whataburger in my village. I may not be one of them anymore, but I want to return the love and goodwill any way I can, and I will be eternally grateful for the way our lives intersected while they did.
This entry was posted in 40s, authors, balance, books, cleaning, creativity, family, friends, Learning, Life lessons, mid-life, moving, reading, Social Media, students, Teaching, traditions, Uncategorized, writing and tagged Coastal Bend, Texas, Victoria, Whataburger.