Excrement in North Carolina

      The news came in yesterday that North Carolina's state legislature voted not to repeal their law that requires transgendered individuals to use public bathrooms that correspond with their birth gender.  This, despite several long hours of deals between legislators.  Also after months of intense public protest, media scrutiny, and boycotting.
      I have to keep reminding myself that this senseless prejudice is born out of ignorance.  Gender is a critical part of personal identity.  For people who feel grounded in their gender, the idea of wanting to be otherwise can be really baffling, even terrifying.  And if they don't know anybody who is transgender their imaginations can take them to a lot of frightening places.  I understand this reaction, because I'm human: my instincts when faced with something totally outside my realm of experience is confusion and discomfort.  It has taken work to get to a place where I can catch myself*, and check and challenge my assumptions.

Humor is a great way to get people to stop and think, but sadly, there is very little that is funny about this issue.  Transgender women (women who were born as males) experience the highest rate of assault and murder.

      This piece in the news has me thinking a lot about Gender Privilege.  Of course there is the obvious discrepancy in how men and women are treated, but there's more to it than that.  When someone identifies as other than their birth gender - and that identity may not fit into a neat, binary model - sexism complicates matters even further.  Because gender is not just a biological phenomenon, it's also a social one.  A person who was born a male and transitions to female gives up a hell of a lot of privilege.  Honestly, they probably won't even receive the same privileges as a biologically-born female, unless they can pass really, really well.  It's not the physical, but the social aspects of gender that makes being a member of the trans community so dangerous.
       Recently at a training on working with transgendered youth, the presenter asked us all to imagine waking up tomorrow with our genders reversed.**  The trainer explained that those strong negative reactions are akin to what trans kids feel when they undergo puberty.  All of a sudden their body is becoming more sexualized, except that it's turning out to be something that feels foreign.  They live this feeling every day, and for many it only gets worse with time.
      The exercise was to help people understand and empathize.  In talking with my fellow trainees afterward, I was surprised by the spectrum of responses to imaging waking up with different genitals.  Some people felt shock.  Others felt curiosity.  Some said they felt revulsion, or panic.  A few people said they couldn't participate in the mental exercise, because the idea was literally inconceivable to them: they just couldn't force their imagination to go there.
      It reminded me of my college days, when I cut my hair very short (a "boy cut") and tended to wear baggy pants and flannels.  My reasons were simple: I wasn't vain, and this look was both comfortable and convenient.  But I was mistaken for a male from the back more than once.  On one memorable occasion, a well-meaning salesperson at a high-end retail establishment tried to remove me from the women's dressing room.  My reaction to this was anger.  I remember turning around in shock and gripping my chest to make a point.  She was completely mortified, apologized profusely.  Later, when I got over my anger, it made for a funny story.  But now I think back on that and wonder what precisely made me so mad.
      It's not like I didn't know that I wasn't presenting in stereotypical gender fashion.  Nor was that the first time someone had made that error when seeing me from behind.  I'd like to say that my feelings were born of a deep feminist belief that a woman isn't defined by her looks--especially not her clothing and hair.  But that's too cerebral; my reaction was reflexive.  In retrospect, I think it was because being faced with a limitation based on my perceived gender - even for a few seconds - was offensive to my feeling of identity.  And what's more, because it was someone trying to ban me from a space where  I felt instinctively that I belonged, I felt threatened.

      That was a small, small incident in my own life, but I am trying to use it to come to a better understanding of how I experience Gender Privilege.  For some people it is easier to be an ally to people with different skin, because of course we are born that way, it's nobody's choice, and therefore it's nobody's fault, so prejudice based on skin color is inherently unfair.  But being transgender seems to many to be a choice.  More than that, it seems an incomprehensible choice.  So they don't experience the same level of alliance.  We can all empathize with being treated unfairly for something that isn't our fault; it's harder to grasp making what seems to be such a radical - in some cases incomprehensible - choice.
      I think what these people are missing is understanding what kind of choice it is to become a transgendered person.  Most of us are not faced with a choice to be who we are, or not.  We were born with the privilege of having most of our life choices fall within a spectrum acceptable to our sense of self.  I am going to try harder to be aware of that privilege.  The truth is, I admire people who are true to themselves, no matter what.  I just want to develop a deeper understanding of what that means, for everyone.



*Most of the time, I'm not perfect.

**People are beginning to understand that gender is not binary, but for the purposes of this presentation it made the most sense to present the language in these terms.

Reflections on Safety Pin Training

      Last weekend, I taught a free community training on de-escalation skills.  It was my friend's idea: she's far more involved in social media than I am and she saw both an interest and a need.  She reached out to me, she found a location, and she put out the word.  She is amazing.  And over 20 people showed up.
      Over 20 people came to learn ways to put themselves between an aggressor and a targeted individual.  They came to learn how to help others - help strangers - because they believe in embodying the values of equity and inclusion.  It was humbling.  I know it sounds corny, but I was honestly deeply moved that these individuals were willing to learn, and willing to act.  It's nice to know we're not alone.

      I am a privileged individual who, by no other means than the color of my skin, am a member of a broad and comfortable majority.  It is exceedingly rare for me to go anywhere and feel out-of-place, and when I do it's usually by choice.  But for the first few days after the election I didn't feel that way.  Everywhere I went, every White stranger I looked at, I wondered: "Who is this person?  How did they vote, and why?  What are their values?"  I was trying to read facial expressions like never before.  Were they happy or sad?  Elated that their "underdog" candidate had made it?  Or did they feel like me, distressed that such an ugly side of America had been exposed, and proved so much larger than they had feared?  It is my nature to assume that everyone is a good person when I first meet them.  All of a sudden, I was questioning that.
      My paranoia had died down a little bit since then.  Logic, education, and experience have tempered my emotions into a more reasonable perspective.  After all, not everyone who voted for Trump is an overtly racist hate-monger.  At least one person I know and love has financial convictions that blinded them to the larger social issues.  And there are people who weren't appalled by Trump's rhetoric because it echoed that of most people they know.  To them, it must have been refreshing - maybe even a relief - to finally have a presidential candidate who sounded like "a real person."  They might have experienced the precise opposite of my reaction following the election.  Maybe all of a sudden they felt more like they belonged.
      For me, the sense of isolation continued.  It wasn't until I walked into the room last Saturday and saw those strangers - those wonderful, caring, daring strangers - that I realized how much I was carrying around.  All of a sudden, here was the Seattle I knew and loved: people ranging in age from early 20's to late 50's; ranging in style from conservative slacks to heavy piercings and blue hair; and from the way they were dressed, there was no way to know what the socio-economic spread might be.*  I felt like a member of a community again.  I felt like strangers and I had something in common again.
      It fueled me.  It humbled me.  It stoked the embers of my hope.  It made me feel so, so thankful that I had something to give.  And it made me hungry to learn more, myself.
      If you were there: thank you for coming.
      We'll be doing a repeat of the first training in January, and then moving on to other topics of request later in the winter.  I will have the slides made available soon.  Another friend of mine and I will be coordinating some open trainings and forums about race discrepancy and White Privilege in south Seattle.  I hope to see some of the same people back again, and I hope to see plenty of new faces, too.  We're not alone. As I've been writing in my holiday cards: 2017 may not be shaping up to be the best year, but it can bring out the best in us.

*Of course everyone was White: the Safety Pin movement is about recognizing privilege and becoming an ally.  But you certainly don't have to be White!

White Shield

      Yesterday, Lady Justice winced under her blindfold.  A lot of people - myself definitely included - expected Officer Michael Slager to be convicted of murder.  The evidence was overwhelming, and the entire country has seen it by now: two separate videos show the White police officer chasing Walter Scott - an unarmed Black man - and shooting him in the back multiple times before deliberately planting false evidence.  Yet one of the jurors apparently "could not in good conscience" give guilty verdict, and Slager was granted a mistrial.  Walter Scott did not receive the justice he deserved.

R.I.P. Walter Scott

      I will not use this space to go into the blatant nature of this failure of the justice system.  I will only say that if we take Slager at his word that he shot Mr. Scott because he was "afraid for his life," then his level of fear was nothing short of delusional paranoia.  Anyone with that extreme disconnect from reality should be court mandated to receive intensive psychotherapy, and be prohibited from ever again owning any sort of weapon.*  Fortunately, the prosecution will likely move for a new trial, rather than letting the matter drop.  Additionally, Slager faces new federal charges within the next month or two.  This isn't over yet.
      This morning I was listening to "The Takeaway," a news analysis show on NPR.  There was a brief segment on the mistrial.  The radio host John Hockenberry, said: "When I watch that video, I feel as though my safety as a citizen is compromised by the idea that someone who one moment can say, 'I'm fearing for my life,' and the next moment is covering up evidence...."
      And it hit me: with all of these police shootings, I have been feeling anger--but never fear.
      This realization has forced me to ask myself some uncomfortable questions.  It never occurred to me that I could be the victim of police brutality.  Not once.  But why not?  In my youth, before I understood the reality of pervasive racial prejudice in law enforcement, I believed that a person had to go looking for trouble.  I was raised to believe that police went after Bad Guys, and since I wasn't breaking a law, I had nothing to fear.**
       So does that mean that I believed the Black population was more prone to crime?  I went to a progressive high school and pursued sociology and psychology from my first semester in college.  I'd heard plenty of statistics about the disproportionate drug use and arrest rate among ethnic minorities in this country.  I'd also been taught that ethnic minorities were far more likely to live in poverty, attend inadequately funded schools, and live in violent neighborhoods.  In my mind, it was these external factors that pushed people to break the law.  Of course I had heard that police targeted and even harassed Black men.  I'd heard the phrase "Driving While Black."  I remember seeing the Rodney King beatings on television.  But I didn't really believe it; I was indoctrinated with the idea that only criminals have anything to fear from police.

Police are my friends, right, McGruff?

      Experience, education, and empathy overcame that misconception.  Little by little, I began to see and comprehend the truth.  I am sure there are more depths of truth for me to experience, which is part of why I write this blog.  Today I was made newly aware of the depth of my internalized White Privilege, and it shocked me.  Even when I watched a video of a police officer chasing an unarmed man and shooting him to death, I never once experienced a moment of fear for myself. From the first, I instinctively - unconsciously - knew that I wasn't at risk.  It's not that I thought to myself, "Well, I'm not Black, therefore I don't have anything to worry about."  I didn't think at all.
      My gut knew the truth long before my brain pieced it together, with all the logic and language of social justice.
      When I contemplate the possibility of experiencing police violence myself, it's within the context of protesting.  Like the heroes at Standing Rock, I reason that if I put my body on the line - perhaps literally on the line - then I face the possibility of injury or even death.  Figuratively speaking, it becomes more probable when I paint a target on my body--whereas a person of color in the U.S. has skin interpreted as an unwanted target every single day.  Bizarrely, it means putting myself in a position to experience brutality at the hands of law enforcement is a privilege.
      On Saturday, I will be teaching a public class in the community on how and when to intervene in a hate crime.  I suspect this training will not go as many of the participants are hoping, but one thing I will be pointing out is that a White person - especially a White man - is simply less likely to be assaulted if they insert themselves between an aggressor and a victim.  That does not mean it's always the most effective thing to do.  But it is true...it is true.




*That's IF we take him at his word.  I'm pretty sure I don't.

**To be clear, I still believe the majority of police officers go into law enforcement for the best possible reasons.  I believe most are wonderful people who want to do the right thing.  I also believe that many officers are good people who are unaware of their racial prejudices--I base this on the fact many of my personal acquaintance are good people, and they are unaware of their racial prejudices, just I have been in the past.

Why "Us vs. Them?"

      I have a theory about why fantasy and science fiction are such popular genres.  I think it gives human beings a subtle sense of relief to have an obvious enemy, particularly one that is clearly different from themselves.  Faced with a slimy creature from outer-space that wants to enslave the planet, one can pull the trigger with relatively few qualms: those pesky questions about ethics, long-term consequences, and "should I have tried another tactic first?" all go out the window.  An already stressful scenario is rendered marginally less stressful but the removal of doubt.

This is not an image that evokes debate about the rights of all living creatures.

      We are not born with the values (or skills) to think before we act aggressively in our own self-interest.  Toddlers don't have ethical struggles when they shove somebody for grabbing their toy.  But of course, wise adults teach those children that such behavior is not Ok, that we need to think, and use your words.  We do this because we know that our civilization depends on, well, being civil to one another.  We have learned it is better to exercise restraint and creative problem-solving to decrease potential fallout. In the real world, decision making can be complicated and emotionally draining.  That's why some people decide not to bother with it.
      There are no filthy orcs or slimy Martians threatening us in the real world.  But some people do feel threatened by other human beings who dissimilar.  Obvious differences would be skin of a different color, dressing different, or speaking a different language--or maybe are outwardly of a different gender.  Other threatening differences could be religion or social customs.  Or even political party of choice; that's one where I've been guilty of crossing the line once or twice.

      Faced with differences that make us uncomfortable, there are three ways to react:
1) Ignore the whole thing.  Pretend we aren't actually uncomfortable.  Either stuff it, forget it, or re-frame it as being about something else that makes us upset, like bad driving or playing music too loud.  Low-key stuff that we can easily go our whole lives without thinking through.

2) Escalate the sense of difference until it becomes an Us/Them mindset.  In social justice terms, we call this "Othering."  We know who our in-group is, whether we think it through or just go with our gut, and the people who are not in that group are Others.  I believe everyone does this to some degree.  Ever glared at a driver who cut you off, and thought - even for a moment - "Well what a surprise, it's an [old lady/Asian man/Black teenager/etc]?"  That's Othering.
      When this grows to an extreme, it becomes paranoid, even hostile. "The Mexicans are coming and taking our jobs."  "The Gays are out to destroy marriage."  "The Jews are taking over the banks."  Suddenly, it becomes more comfortable to slip back into that toddler mentality of reacting without thinking.  If the threat becomes "obvious," then we can just pull that trigger and save the planet...right?
      Maybe that's why hate crimes have been escalating so much recently.

3) Learn more.  Knowledge and understanding are fatal to prejudice.  Going back to my toddler analogy, I was hanging out with a friend the other day who's delightful 2 year-old is scared of dogs.  But a nice man with a sweet little dog was willing to let her watch the puppy through the cafe window, like an animal in a zoo.  Toddler and canine leaned against the glass, getting to know one another.  Later, my friend's daughter went outside the cafe and got close to the dog, enthralled.

      This is what we want our children to do in such situations: we know that if they learn more, their anxiety will decrease.  They just have to get familiar with it.  We know this about children, yet we forget it about ourselves.  It makes us uncomfortable, so we honestly don't do it very often.
      As I continue my contemplation of White Privilege, I realized something about this phenomenon.  When a person of the majority - in my country, that would be Caucasians such as myself - decides to become more actively familiar with a minority culture this is generally viewed as "an interest," or even "an amusing hobby."  You rarely find a privileged White person being chastised for NOT checking out a minority culture.  I've gone my whole life barely dipping my toes into other cultures, and I could easily - comfortably - never do it again.
      But a person of a racial, ethnic, or cultural minority is expected to become familiar with the majority culture--more than that, they are expected to conform.  Whites want them to dress, talk, and act like us.  When they don't, we feel uncomfortable.   "If they're going to live here, they just need to adapt/learn the language/leave the old country behind."  We struggle with accepting the Other as being equal - truly, honestly, functionally equal - to ourselves.

      So...what do we do?
My answer: do something.  Do ONE thing.  Start with one.  Something small.  Then see if you're up to do something else.  Here's what I've decided to do:

1) I'm going to take Spanish classes.
      I imagine moving to a country where I didn't have a good grasp on the language, struggled with poverty, and received the kind of social messages this recent election has given to our Latino population.  I think it would crush me.  Some people say: "Well, if you're going to move to a foreign country, learn the language."  YOU try becoming competent in a language when you're working multiple jobs and raising a family.   I studied French for 8 years in a very good school district; it was practically fed to me with a silver spoon, and I never got much beyond conversational use of the language.  One of the best ways I can start supporting this minority population is by talking to them.

Just thinking about it makes me feel humbled.

2) I'm going to visit my local Mosque, and ask how I can show my support.
      This will be easy for me, since a gentleman from my local Mosque has already come and presented to my workplace about how to support immigrant Islamic youth.  I get shy in these kinds of situations, but if I can't overcome my shyness and the inconvenience to my comfortable weekly schedule, then I'm falling woefully short of my ideals.

       That's where I'm starting.  If you're looking for places to start, here are some suggestions from myself and others I've spoken to:

 - Stand up against bullying.  Whether it's in your face, or on Facebook, don't stand idly by.  Here is an excellent link sent to me by a reader about how to intervene if you see someone perpetrating a hate crime.  But these days, I think we encounter even more bullying online.  If you are a video gamer, you know what kind of things other people can say in the heat of the moment.  If you hear it, I challenge you to call them on it.  Don't put up with it.  Even if it means booting them, blocking them, or logging off yourself.  It's time to draw the line on every front.

http://www.pbs.org/newshour/rundown/safety-pins-solidarity-minorities/

 - Donate generously to a non-profit that serves minorities and other struggling populations.  There are plenty to pick from, and all depend at least partially on government funding.  There is a significant risk that these organizations will take a serious financial hit in the next four years--some may have to close their doors.  Southern Poverty Law Center.  The ACLU (this one may be more important than ever).  United Way.  Planned Parenthood.  Your local food bank, shelter, or mental health/addiction treatment center.

 - Travel.  If you are puzzled about why some parts of the country have such different political ideas than others, go check it out.  Don't just drive through, stay for a few days, and chat with the locals.  Or, if you can afford it, travel outside the country.  Go to Mexico.  Go to South America.  Go to China.  Go to India.  And take someone with you who could really benefit from the education of experience.

That's not a third-world country, that's someone's home in Arkansas.

 - Read.  Keep these issues on your mind, and be willing to explore topics that may not be at the top of your area of interest.  These are complicated issues, tied to history and ideas that may be strange or uncomfortable for a lot of people.  I'm starting a page on this blog tracking the books I'm reading that are relevant to issues of social equity, and you are welcome to recommend more.

 - Have conversations with others.  Talk to other people who share your values and figure out what you can do together.  Find ways to feel connected with others.  Find ways to empathize with others.  Find ways to listen--especially when you don't want to.  And if you're not sure how to do that without yelling, I will put out a post on communication skills in a few weeks.

 - Go to your next city council meeting.  This could say "get involved in politics," but that's a daunting concept for many.  So start with city council.  Check out the website or call city hall, figure out when the next meeting is, and go watch.  And talk to somebody else there.  Voila, you're involved in politics!  Keep it up, and see where it goes--maybe you'll even run for office.

The Reality

      I woke up this morning and really needed a cup of coffee.  I don't actually have a coffee maker right now, so I walked a block to my local cafe to order a cup to go.  When I stepped outside, the first thing I saw was a group of school kids waiting for the bus with their parents.  Most of them not White.  A few were Latino.  About a third were Middle Eastern.

      I nearly burst into tears. I wanted to run up to those parents and hug them, and tell them I was so sorry.  I wanted to let them know that I'm afraid for their kids, too.  And that means I'm going to fight for their kids.

      There's a lot about this election that makes me sad.  I had trouble sleeping last night because it also makes me frightened--genuinely scared for my safety and those who I care about.  And please don't tell me I'm over-reacting or that "things could never get that bad," because that's precisely what people said when Trump started to run for president, and you have seen the headlines, right?  But mostly what I feel is anger.  And anger can be a very, very tricky emotion.

      The fact of the matter is that nothing unites like a common enemy, and that is how Trump got himself elected.  Immigrants, Muslims, the Liberal Media--how did Cercei Lannister phrase it?  "Anyone who isn't us is an enemy."  Game of Thrones may be fiction, but don't forget the author firmly based his stories in historical events.  And history has a nasty habit of repeating itself.

      As a White woman of economic and educational privilege, I've often wondered how I would have handled other periods of history.  Would I have had the guts to be one of the Freedom Riders?  Would I have had the courage to help smuggle runaway slaves through the Underground Railroad?  If I had been German in the 1930's, would I have stood up to the Nazis, or kept my head down like so many others did?  I can't go back in history.  But anyone who thinks the present day isn't just as critical as those dark chapters of our past is blind, sir, blind.

      So how to move forward.  How to make a difference.  How to meet what has happened effectively.  How to be able to look back at this time with no regrets, with no cause to lament: "If only I had done more."

      In the interest of not making posts too long, I will dedicate my next one to ideas, strategies and resources.  If you have any to add, please comment here, and let me know.  We shall overcome.

A Doctor with Any Other Skin

      There was a lot of interesting bits in the news this week (including a pretty hilarious Saturday Night Live skit spoofing the most recent U.S. presidential debate).  But the piece of news that stuck with me the most was about a doctor's experience on a recent Delta airlines flight.  A fellow passenger was experiencing a health crisis, and the flight crew called for a medical professional.  Dr. Cross raised a hand to volunteer, but a flight attendant declined the offer of assistance, stating the crew wanted "a real physician."
      What made this flight attendant think Dr. Cross wasn't a real physician?  The only possible cues this flight attendant could have called on to make this erroneous assumption were Dr. Cross's appearance: clothing, age, gender, and skin color.
      Dr. Tamika Cross is a young Black woman.  You do the math.

This is what a doctor looks like, America.

      If you haven't read Dr. Cross' original Facebook post, I highly recommend that you do so.
      There are two layers of atrociousness to Dr. Cross' experience.  One is that the prejudices of that flight attendant could have cost the sick passenger his life.  What if there hadn't been another medical professional on board?  How long would the flight attendant have dithered about, making Dr. Cross drag out some kind of ID to satisfy her doubts?  The other is a deeper, sadder truth about our judgements and decisions under stress.
      I recently attended a fabulous training on racial diversity.  The presenter made a point early on of saying that she judges people all the time--in fact she judges them before she's even seen them.  She gave the example of making judgements about the people she's hired to train based on where they work, their line of work, where they sit in the room, what they're wearing, etc.  Then she pointed out: "Judging people like this is normal, everyone does it.  Don't be worried that I'm judging you--be worried if I'm not aware of it."
      Of course I do this, too.  And I'm sad to say that the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear the word "doctor" is a White man.  But it's happened to me enough that I am aware of it--that, and other prejudicial, knee-jerk assumptions that lurk in my unconscious mind.  When people wonder why it's so important to have diversity in things like the cast of TV shows and movies, or in the characters of novels, this is why.  We need to see people of all genders, colors, body types, ages, and sexual orientation in all kinds of life roles.
      It's even more important that we see that kind of diversity in real life, which brings us to Affirmative Action...but that's another post.  We think that these kinds of superficial, snap-judgement prejudices are relatively harmless.  So what if the first thing we think when someone is driving slow is "probably a little old lady," or if we see someone struggling with an ATM we as assume, "must not be from this country?"  Now we know what: the doctor on the plane when you're having organ failure might be a little old lady, or might have English as a second language.  Fortunately, the signs of heart attack are the same no matter where you are from in the world.
      If that flight attendant wasn't aware of how she judged people before this incident occurred, I sincerely hope she's aware of it now.  I'm going to keep pushing myself to over-come my own mental stereotypes.
      Delta airlines is apparently investigating the incident.  Dr. Cross is not responding to media requests for interviews, which is the professional thing to do.  She is completing her final year of residency at a hospital, and believe me when I say hospitals do not like their medical staff to be in the news for any reason besides awards.  Although many people - including myself - would like to see Dr. Cross speak about her experience on a respectable national news program, keeping silent is definitely the way to go.
     The only point on which I disagree with Dr. Cross is on the issue of compensation.  According to her Facebook post, she would accept Skymiles as part of the airlines apology.  Whereas I intend to never fly Delta again.



*The type who are disinclined to believe in the existence of rampant racism in our society, which is sometimes subtle and sometimes not so subtle.