A couple in Louisiana was refused a marriage license by a justice of the peace due to the fact that they were an interracial couple. My favorite part of this story is this quote:
“I’m not a racist. I just don’t believe in mixing the races that way,” Bardwell told the Associated Press on Thursday. “I have piles and piles of black friends. They come to my home, I marry them, they use my bathroom. I treat them just like everyone else.” [Read more →]
At least 60% of Americans have a Vitamin D deficiency. As we avoid the sun more and more for fear of developing skin cancer, we may be creating an even bigger problem. Vitamin D is absolutely essential for our bodies and 15-45 minutes of direct sunlight each day is the best way to get it (the darker your skin, the more time you will need in the sun).
When an adult does not get enough D they can experience the following: aches and pains, lowered immunity to disease, bone softening, increased rates of cancer (especially breast, prostate, and colon cancers), heart disease, diabetes, Parkinson’s disease, and high blood pressure. Men, age 40-70, with low levels of Vitamin D have a significantly higher risk of heart attack than men of the same age group with normal D levels.
For the record, I know how Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates felt — just a little bit — when he was arrested by white police officers for the crime of answering the door in his own home. By now the facts and meaning of Gates’ arrest have become an international incident viewed through the prism of race and resentment, especially after President Barack Obama used the words “acted stupidly” to describe the behavior of the Cambridge, Mass. police in the Gates’ house arrest. Such is the power of race in America to distort and magnify every issue. [Read more →]
Paula: I am curious to have your take on the recent incident in which Henry Louis Gates, the Harvard professor of African-American Studies, was arrested by the Cambridge police as he tried to push open the door of his home, which was stuck, after returning from a business trip. I am unsure as to whether he was arrested because he was suspected of breaking into the home or whether he became disorderly when he thought he was being accused of doing this.
Whatever actually happened, the police officer involved clearly pushed Gates’s buttons. [Read more →]
Saturday is the Fourth of July. For most Americans, it is a day to barbecue and watch fireworks. For me it is a chance to watch the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Championship on Coney Island, sandwiched by a Twilight Zone marathon. Whatever the tradition, some Americans, including our President, have become almost apologetic for America over the last decade. They have no problem confessing our imperfections to others around the world… and yes, we do have a lot of them. Other Americans are downright adamant about being American. They say that we are the best country in the world, and they are biased against other countries. But do they know what they are proud of? [Read more →]
Ahhh, ‘tis almost St. Patty’s Day, and ‘tis almost time for us Irish to further perpetuate the Irish stereotype of drinkin’, singin’, laughin’, and then fightin’. As the ides of March come creeping closer, we Irish get all the more excited about putting our livers to the test on the 17th. [Read more →]
A terrible thing happened last year. The Chinese restaurant that my family has been going to for ten years suddenly shut its doors. Well, I guess it wasn’t really that sudden. They had been complaining of diminishing profits since 9/11, as had many Chinatown businesses. Then one sad evening, we showed up for dinner and the place was deserted. I called my husband in disbelief. No more crisp and delicious salt and pepper squid. No more al dente lo mein (my dad’s favorite). Sigh. Once we got over the initial shock, we realized that we had to get serious about the task ahead — we would have to find a replacement for our beloved Kam Chueh (RIP).
Chinese Restaurants are as American as apple pie. Chinese food, as we know it, was invented in America in the mid-1800s. Chinese immigrants headed west to the California Gold Rush like everyone else, but were discriminated against and denied mining jobs. They quickly learned to adapt, opening restaurants for the miners and railroad workers. They served dishes like General Tso’s chicken and chop suey, which the workers ordered by number rather than attempt to pronounce the strange, new, words.
As the Gold Rush came to an end, violent crime surged out West. Chinese workers headed towards the Northeast where there were better job opportunities and less ethnic discrimination. In 1878, the first Chinese grocery store, Wo Kee, opened on Mott Street. That same year, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that Chinese Immigrants would not be permitted to gain American citizenship. The next 60 years were incredibly difficult for the Chinese living in America, as several laws were passed making it nearly impossible for any new Chinese citizens to enter the United States, including the wives and children of the men already here.
There’s nothing funnier than a bullet riddled chimpanzee corpse to make a humorous point about the see-no-evil, hear-no-evil logic of Washington deal makers. At least that must have been the considered opinion of the editorial leadership of the New York Post when the best and brightest at the Post agreed to run the dead monkey gag by cartoonist Sean Delonas on the the paper’s saucy Page Six. On the pavement of the cartoon lies a great ape turned to Swiss cheese by bullet holes. Behind the smoking gun, from the mouth of the police officer who shot him, come the words, “They’ll have to find someone else to write the next stimulus bill.”
Har-Dee-Har-HAR-Dee-Har-HAR!
Boy, did he skewer the Washington elite with that topical gag “ripped out of the pages” of this week’s newspapers. See, there was this famous performing chimp in Stamford, Conn., that went nuts and almost killed an old lady. When police responded to a frantic 911 call from the animal’s owner, the chimpanzee named Travis turned its anger on the men in blue who — get this — ran away and jumped inside their patrol cars. Tee-hee!
Eventually, the police fired several shots at the 200-pound primate, which has between five to seven times the strength of a man that size. Travis ran back into his house where he was found dead inside his cage. His 70-year-old victim lies in a hospital bed clinging to life. Meanwhile President Barack Obama signed the $787 billion stimulus package that was greeted by investors on Wall Street with a 300-point drop in the Dow.
It was a perfect storm of non sequiturs. [Read more →]
During the same week that America’s caramel colored First Family made its debut before a delighted nation and a fascinated world, I saw two new TV commercials for national brand-name products featuring biracial married couples. In one, the husband was black and the wife was white. In the other, the husband was white and the wife was black. In both commercials the wives did the talking. I don’t remember ever seeing a biracial couple in a commercial before, so seeing two in one week caught my eye. Could this be a sign of the new Obama nation? Or is it merely commerce imitating reality?
I’m old enough to remember when a biracial couple in Philadelphia meant an Italian boy dating an Irish girl. I remember when Protestants were forbidden friends and Jews were exotics, people mentioned in the Bible by the nuns who taught us not to hate them, which was easy because I never met one. I remember when blacks were Negroes and whites were Caucasians and Jews were something else altogether. Muslims were nonexistent, except in stories about the Crusades, and even then they were called either Arabs or Mohammadeans. As for Buddhists, Hindus, Wiccans or Scientologists. . . fuhgeddaboudit.
I grew up a Catholic school Philadelphian back in the day. I didn’t have a black or Jewish classmate, let alone friend, until junior high school, when I became a Public. In grade school I had one Protestant friend named Elliott Jones, who lived on my street, and I kept trying to convert him to Catholicism. He was an Episcopalian, which to me meant he was something like a Communist. I was naive and shameless and comfortable in my prejudice. That was how I grew up. Those were my values.
I get annoyed and impatient with people who explain their wrong thinking, if not behavior, with the words “that was how I was raised” as if everything there is to learn in life stops at the age of ten. As if not doing to their own children what their parents did to them is a betrayal of mom and dad. My father used to beat me and my brothers with a belt he would snap like a lion tamer before he whacked us. This was considered normal when I was growing up.
Somehow what I learned from this experience was never to hit my children. And I never have. In a single generation what was once common in my family had become unthinkable. And in America, what was unthinkable a generation ago has become our face to the world.
Obama was elected months ago but today he became our president. I can’t help but feel hope. I know we have a long road to travel before this country gets back up on its feet — but the swearing in of our first black president says so much about how far we’ve already come, as a people and a nation. I feel as if we can do anything.
In his inauguration speech Obama said:
“This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.”
Wow… that just says so much about how far we really have come. But it’s important to note that my feeling of hope for this country is not because Obama is black; it’s because Obama seems to inspire change. He inspires influential people to try to inspire change. He inspires the average citizen to want to help create positive change.
Also, I can relate to Obama. The leader of our country is also just another guy, a father. I watch his speeches culminate in applause and then see his older daughter give him the equivalent of a high-five. Her excitement, her interest, and her words, “great speech dad,” say so much about him as a man and as a father.
I am not sure if this feeling of hope will last — especially as more people continue to lose their jobs and their homes — but maybe it will help to get us through the hard times ahead.
It’s 1pm and I just watched Barack and Michelle walk former president Bush and Barbara to their ride out of D.C., a presidential helicopter. Man — it feels so good to see Bush go away and to see Barack standing on the steps with confidence. I know Barack will mess up at some point. I know he will make decisions I don’t agree with, but it’s true that, for right now, I have a renewed sense of hope and pride in my country. I will ride this wave as long as I can.
In light of our selection of the first black president, there is — for good reason — lots of talk of race relations here and elsewhere. We have come such a long way to correct the mistakes of our past but there are still so many people out there who can’t even say they have had the opportunity to be friends with someone of a different race. I grew up in an urban neighborhood where some of my best friends were black and Korean. I believe those friendships helped to make me a better person. So, when I saw this short CBS piece about an unlikely bond between an elephant and a dog it made me think, if an elephant and a dog can get past their physical differences, why can’t we?
It also made me question how people will ever get over their racial bias if we continue to live in towns with minimal integration. How will the opportunities for friendships ever arise if people of different races do not live and work together? How do we see past the color of our skin if we never really get to know each other — allowing us the chance to see how similar we really are. And in friendship, my hope would be that we gain a new respect for what makes us all different. Cheesy as that sounds… white people who wouldn’t normally have voted for a black man, voted for Obama. They didn’t vote for him just because they wanted Bush out of office (although that may have been part of the reason), they voted for him because they felt like they got to know him during his campaign — and they liked him and they liked his politics. Maybe, in fact, he is the first black man they’ve ever gotten to know.
Hat Tip to Dixie
I didn’t vote for Barack Obama.
While I am not a fan of President-elect Obama’s politics, I — am — a realist. Since it became obvious to me last summer that Mr. Obama was going to win the election, I have been nursing the hope that his victory would have a profound effect on the issue of race relations in this country. The elevation of a black man, in an open and free election, to the highest office in this land and, indeed, one of the most powerful positions in the world, is a clear indication of how far we have come.
While it would be foolish to expect the ripples from this election to be felt so soon, it is human nature to hope. The deafening silence from renowned race-baiters Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton over the last few months has fed those hopes.
All is not sugar and spice, however. [Read more →]
At a time of unprecedented national pride and renewal, as we approach the inauguration of America’s first nonwhite president, it’s hard to imagine anything more squalid than the behavior of the president-elect’s home-state governor, Rod Blagojovich of Illinois, who was arrested Nov. 12th on charges of conspiring to sell Mr. Obama’s own seat in the U.S. Senate. Nothing could be more distracting or at odds with the spirit of the moment. Or so it seemed.
Gov. Blagojovich will of course have the day in court to which he is entitled — followed, most likely, by many years of incarceration. But from the standpoint of racial harmony and conciliation, which is a key subtext of the past election, the present time, and the coming administration, I would single out another chapter of this story for its inappropriateness: something less despicable than what Gov. Blagojovich allegedly did, but in a way, more depressing. That is the reaction of some African-American leaders in Illinois and in Congress, to the Governor’s nomination of a distinguished black politician, Roland Burris, to fill Obama’s Senate seat.
Blagojovich remains governor as of this writing, with the powers pertaining to that office. He himself claims to have a legal duty to fill the seat; duty or not, his nomination of Burris is perfectly legal.
The problem is that the governor is so deeply compromised, not just by the charges pending against him but by the nationally-publicized recordings of some particularly damning evidence for those charges, that any act he performs in his remaining time as governor bears the taint of corruption. [Read more →]
Jewish kids get creamed during the holiday season. Every single television show is about Christmas and Santa. My daughter was watching Dora the other night and after the show ended, she turned to me and said in this tiny little voice (mind you, she’s 2 ½), “Mommy, Santa come and bring me presents?” My heart sank. Years of childhood angst gurgled in my stomach and started to well in my throat. I remembered the feeling I had as a little Jewish kid during Christmas. It sucked. Plain and simple. I wanted a tree and lights and stockings hanging above my fireplace. I wanted to put out cookies and milk at night and pretend that it wasn’t my parents that ate them and left all those presents under the tree. I wanted all of it. No matter how many times they tried to beef it up, I never fell for the idea that eight nights of Hanukkah were way better than one day of Christmas. I wasn’t buying it. There was no escaping the fact that I felt left out of the biggest and greatest day of the year. I understood that the world basically ignored Jews during the holiday season. But I still felt burned. Even as a kid, if I saw a menorah in a store, it felt patronizing next to the 40 foot tree and 50,000 lights that covered it. The Thanksgiving Day Parade even ended with a kick in the teeth for me. Who’s the big star of the show? Who closes out the parade with that condescending grin? Santa!
And now, here I was, faced with the first of what I imagine will be millions of questions about Christmas and Santa. I felt sad for my daughter. There she was, watching her favorite person in the world (Dora) enjoying an afternoon with Santa, his reindeer and that goofy looking monkey she hangs out with. What was I supposed to say to her? Do I tell her that Santa doesn’t exist? That Santa doesn’t visit Jewish kids? Or do I dish the shit like NORAD and tell her that Santa visits anyone who believes in him? What a load of crap. I believed in that tubby bastard and he never came to see me.
I had to think fast. I told her that Santa is for people that celebrate Christmas and that we celebrate Hanukkah. She looked at me, smiled, and asked for pudding. Crisis averted. But what about next year? And the year after that? What happens when there’s no pudding in the fridge? Or worse, Santa’s big fat face is on the pudding container?
The question is rhetorical. Partly because I hope most parents would know better than to name their kid after one of the most evil men in history, and partly because if you would, I don’t think I would want to know.
A mom and dad in New Jersey named their little boy Adolf Hitler and they are angry because the local ShopRite refused to create a birthday cake that said “Happy Birthday Adolf Hitler.” One might argue that it’s just a name and there is no reason to be offended. This boy can be raised in a way to give the Hitler name new meaning; however, I doubt that’s going to happen here. Adolf has two sisters, one named JoyceLynn Aryan Nation and another named for Nazi leader Heinrich Himmler. Oh yeah… and their house is complete with a swastika in every room.
The thing that gets me the most angry about this is not his parents’ beliefs — I think they are morons, but this is a free country, so they can believe what they want. The thing that gets me the most angry is that these idiots gave their kids names that will will affect them in a negative way for all of their life. I think naming your kid Apple is stupid too, but it’s no Adolf Hitler.
Paula: What do you think about the tendency to label someone racist based on a particular comment or singular behavior? Is one slip of the tongue enough to make someone a racist?
Robert: I do not think it’s fair to label someone racist based on a particular comment. In fact, I see a racial gap over the meaning of allegations of racism. Not just a gap in what blacks label racist and what whites label racist (that gap is understandable). But a gap between what it means when a black person calls someone else’s speech or act “racist” vs. what white liberals and others think that means. [Read more →]
In a recent article on ABC News, a fashion photographer by the name of Nick Knight made his feelings about “racism” in the fashion industry known by creating a short, silent film starring the anger-management-impaired model Naomi Campbell and a pair of Uzi pistols.
What we have here is not a cry against injustice; it is another attempt to play the racism card to gain notoriety.
Why isn’t there an outcry for American Indian, Fillipino, Inuit or Pakistani women? It is not because they are less deserving; it is because they don’t have a powerful lobby in their corner.
Interesting, but ultimately unimportant.
The answer to this problem lies not in the racial sensibilities of the fashion and cosmetic industries, but in the accountants’ ledgers of the marketing firms that create the demand for the products.
The only colors that matter here are black and red, not black and white.
We must talk of Robert Kennedy because he matters, especially this year, a presidential election year in the 40th June since he died young and heroic and needlessly. Imagine Bobby Kennedy at brother Ted’s age, only older. And then imagine their oldest surviving brother Jack Kennedy at the age of 91. And all three brothers are sitting side by side. It is impossible to imagine, not because the idea of them together is difficult to conjure, what with the morph technology and all — it is just impossible to imagine a world without dead Kennedys, one president of the United States, his younger brother certain to become the next. Dead Kennedys haunted my childhood and my adulthood. Loving Bobby was almost harder than losing Jack. Many of us ache, and I mean ache, when we think what might have been. Had Bobby lived.
To describe Barack Obama as the Bobby Kennedy of his generation is, sorta, kinda, maybe — EXACTLY — like what is going on today. Except Obama isn’t running against a sitting Democratic president embroiled in an unpopular foreign war. Obama is running against eight years of Bush-Cheney. There’s no way Barack can lose this, is there? [Read more →]
