I used to be fun

I was sharing a funny old (14 years) photo with my family this week, and it reminded me of this old (30 years) song by Rockapella:

This song has always reminded me of someone specific in my life (from the picture that cracked me up) and it got me to thinking about something...

I used to be somewhat of a goof.

I had a reputation as someone who was funny, and in fact would often do unwise or immature things because they amused me.

I was never mean (except for maybe that one time I put toothpaste in a sausage for a specific person to eat, and if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't) and usually the joke was on me, but... It was kind of my "thing."

Remember that time at my 20th high school reunion when I had gone to the trouble of memorizing the entire dance scene from "You Can't Stop the Beat" in "Hairspray" the movie and I requested the song and did the dance all the way through even though no one joined me? (If you watch it all the way through... yes, I was getting tired at the end, but that floor was SLIPPERY. The fact that I didn't land the cartwheel was a great personal disappointment that stays with me to this day!)

Or like that time that a cold snap hit the Sher-Den area and when I was driving by the newish giant bust of Eisenhower, I thought, "He looks cold. He should have a scarf." I told several people about my idea until it landed with a talented seamstress, Juanita, who took YARDS of fabric and made a scarf (wisely with weighted ends so we could put it on and it would stay), which another friend, D, Juanita, and I all tossed on the former President in the dark of a chilly evening.

The talented aforementioned Randy Sedlacek took this shot a day or two later.
Stately AND warm, no?

I don't know. My habit is: I have a stupid, silly idea and after I have it, I just do it. It happens because my thinking something odd makes it a reality that there's no denying.

Or at least that used to be the case. 

What happened? 

I was married to someone I embarrassed a great deal with my exuberance, mischief, and general loudness. Now I'm married to someone who would absolutely revel in any silliness I might come up with, and I just... don't? Why?

When I was mowing the other day, I had the thought that my life used to be similar to a person at a funeral: I absolutely should not have been laughing, but it was a coping mechanism. And maybe now I'm just happy and don't have the highs and lows? 

Or like when I had an eating disorder and LIVED for vacations, when I let myself be free and eat whatever I wanted: I'd plan meals down to the menu item, and almost cry at every meal because everything was so rich and tasty. Now that I eat whatever I want to, I still enjoy food, but not like that. The scarcity is gone, and somehow that blunts the joy of "forbidden fruit," I guess.

Maybe this is just a natural outgrowth of maturing, and if that is the case, I HATE IT. I can extend my sincerest apologies to the target of my ill-conceived meat/toothpaste prank while also acknowledging that most of the time, my humorous impulses were a lot of fun for me and the people around me.

Can't think of a good way to wrap this up, so... Mal's up and I'm out. Miss me!

Unlearning Bigotry

This morning, I was listening to an interview on NPR. It was their morning news program, and they were talking with a (possibly retired) brigadier general about the invasion of Ukraine by Russian forces. To the first question, the general began responding and had a prominent speech impediment. It wasn't a stutter per se, but it was a pretty overt frequent verbal pause "uh, um, um, uhhh..." to get from one part of a sentence to where he was going. For a fraction of a moment, I tensed up; then I reminded myself to listen to what he was actually saying, and for the rest of the interview, I heard HIM and his message and was able to completely filter out the tic.

My initial catch was an ablist left-over from growing up both with an educator (grammar is important) and a broadcaster (professional presentation is important, even better if it can be flawless; and nothing is a cardinal sin like dead air). 20 years ago, I might have entertained the thought, "Why would they pick this guy to put on the radio answering questions?" because of how I had to adjust my ear to truly listen to him. The answer is, of course, that he's brilliant at what he does and is an extremely accomplished military leader. That is THE important factor in the equation.

In truth, I adore that everyone on the radio isn't expected to sound like Dan Rather or Walter Cronkite anymore (my dad does, though). That expectation is elitist, sexist, racist, nationalist, and a whole host of other "ist"s. That humans can report news or interview notable people competently while still retaining their own natural speech is refreshing.

But when you have grown up with a certain expectation, it takes some self-reflection and discipline to unlearn and stop mentally trying to enforce those arbitrary rules.

"Hairspray!" with New Eyes

After I'd excerpted from "Hairspray!" a bit ago, James suggested we watch it again. I love that movie. It's been at least five and probably closer to seven years since I've watched it in full.

If you've been following along, you know that my entire worldview has changed massively in the past few years, and so, while I enjoyed the movie a great deal, as usual, this time a few things popped out at me that hadn't before. I'll list them, then explain why they're problematic.

1) Although there was structural racism in the film (i.e. white kids were the norm for the music show, with black kids getting only one day every month), it was embodied in a single, nasty white woman, Velma Von Tussle.

2) When "Negro Day" (as the once-a-month black episode is called) is cancelled, it is Tracy Turnblad (white protagonist) who has the idea to march on the television station.

3) After many black folk and Edna Turnblad (Tracy's mom, also white) are arrested at the march, Wilbur Turnblad, husband/dad, bails EVERYONE out. He says it's about 20 people.

4) Little Inez Stubbs (the daughter of the host of "Negro Day," "Motormouth" Maybelle) dances on the show when Link Larkin, a white guy, brings her out onstage.

First, I want to say that when I literally googled "Is Hairspray a white savior movie" yesterday, I learned something interesting about this film. John Waters wrote it as an alternate/happy ending to a real event in Baltimore history. The Buddy Deane Show ran on local TV from 1957 until 1964. It, too, had a white cast and audience, saving once per month. A civil rights group staged a "dance in" where the show was integrated for the episode. Apparently, the producers of the show supported integration, but rather than deal with the blowback from area segregationists, canceled the show altogether. This was Waters' way of literally rewriting history.

So I know that this was written with no ill intent. The music is superb, and the tone is so hopeful; I think that is one of the things that appeals to me most. When I listened to "You Can't Stop the Beat" the other day, I was a little saddened by the line "Tomorrow is a brand new day and it don't know white from black." It's so aspirational. And we have so far to go.

Now, here is why the things I didn't even notice before are problematic:

1) Hateful racist lady: This is a character that allows us to say, "Yeah, she's awful. Good thing I'm not like that!" and basically not have to examine our own complicity in any systems that exist today that uphold racial inequality. It allows us to say, "If that's what racism looks like, I'm definitely not racist!" In that way, it absolves us as the "good white guy." We're part of the "Not all white people" crowd. In our minds. And we're not moved to challenge that thinking.

2) What are the odds, in 1963, that a 17-year-old white girl would have the idea to march as a protest before any black kids and even an adult black woman? It sort of takes away some agency and although the whole group (all black folks except for Tracy) ends up marching, it makes them seem almost passive and ignorant in asserting their own rights.

3) I can understand why Maybelle and Seaweed would need to be bailed out, but if a white dad had to bail everyone else's kids out, this says something about their parents' presence and/or ability to post bail themselves. We already know that Wilbur is a VERY good guy; this points to his better impulses, I understand. But it makes him literally their savior.

4) This is another instance where, instead of a black person being shown taking what is rightfully theirs, this gain is facilitated by a white person's invitation. Whereas that can be problematic as it's repeated in this fictionalized narrative, it also points to an important reality: White people have to be willing to risk their own privilege if things are ever actually going to change.

See, one of the things this hopeful but overly-simplified story does is pretend that once an instance of racism is toppled, everything shores up and we're all even. One of the things I found when I was googling yesterday was someone talking about how, in the movie, when the news anchor reports that "interracial dancing has broken out in the studios" all of the white people waiting outside go crazy in support of the desegregation. She pointed out that many white people would have (and did) lose their minds over this type of thing.

It's tempting to think that if we can just get people to stop having racial prejudices, that racism won't be a thing anymore. Which is one reason we want to say, "Well, I'm not racist. I treat everyone the same" and not have to work alongside our brothers and sister of color to assure that they have, in practice as well as theoretically, the same rights as we do. I keep seeing this quote repeated, and it's true: "It's not enough not to be racist. You have to be anti-racism."

I wish John Waters' vision of what could be had come to fruition. But we have not even started the work in earnest. I hear people say "Slavery happened 200 years ago, and I didn't have slaves, so why should I have to be responsible for any of this?" Thing is, slavery was just officially abolished (with the notable exception of incarcerated people, and we know that there is a disproportionate jailing of people of color) 150 years ago, and that there were laws both on the books and unofficially but enforced as recently as a few decades ago.

I think all white people should listen to the entire 14-part Scene On Radio series "Seeing White," but to clarify what I'm about to say, the episode on "White Affirmative Action" is truly an eye-opener.

What we are left with is like a Monopoly game where there are teams that switch players every 15 minutes. We've been playing for nearly an hour. Fifteen minutes ago, one member of one team admitted that the three people who'd played before him had cheated, and he was not going to cheat. That team is way ahead, though, as cheating was a successful strategy. Now a new member of the team comes in to play, and his opponent remarks that the opposing team isn't able to catch up given the unfair advantage the first team has. "What do you mean?!" the player says. "I just got here. I didn't cheat. We're on even ground now!"

But we can see, in this example, that they aren't. Why do we choose not to see this in real life? While people of color in our nation do not need (or want) a white savior, what we are required by our humanity to do is to listen, believe, and then partner with black folks to figure out how to fix the mess we made. We need to let them talk, and we need to be willing to give up things we think we earned solely on our own... which I don't think is as difficult to do when you realize that you DID have a leg up just by virtue of the color of your skin.

I know it won't be easy. Another quote I keep running up against is: When you've been in power a long time, equality can feel like oppression. I feel this deeply when we say, "There's racism against whites, too" or sigh over the fact that straight white cis-males can't get scholarships or jobs because companies have diversity mandates. We need to stop it. As long as we are defensive and refuse to acknowledge how lopsidedly our country as been constructed, meaningful change will not come.

Baby Steps

It's the day after Memorial Day, schools are getting out, and we're well into at least a week of 100+ temperatures.

James worked from home today, so Mal and I headed out just before James's 11 AM "meeting." We spent a couple of hours at Little Land, and it hit me how much easier it is going now that Mal will just use the restroom of his own volition (rather than my having to ask and ask and ask and finally basically insist).

I was a little high-strung today, though, because I don't deal well with having work hanging over my head. Well, we had a couple of things today.

First, we're finally replacing the insulation above D's room where the water damage guy had to take a bunch of it out because it was soaked and ruined. I went to The Home Depot after Little Land and got a 25 foot roll, then got home to measure so we could cut it... and did I mention the temperature? Because just standing in the opening to the attic measuring was miserable. It's the first time probably in my life that I've been tempted to play the "poor, feeble wife" card. All I could think was, "I do NOT want to suit up and lay this fiberglass." Fortunately, I was able to play the asthma card (I know, fiberglass insulation doesn't cause asthma, but I do have stress- and exercise-induced asthma, and there are ALWAYS allergens around -- like all 3 cats, plus whatever visitor droppings are in the attic from previous visitors -- so it's likely) and I have an awesome husband who's going to get up and do it tomorrow morning. Because he loves me.

Second, D woke me up at 5 the other morning to help trap and release a 3-inch roach she'd found in the bathroom. Last night, I found another one on the wall in the hallway. D and I have both caught scorpions (small ones; not like the 4-incher I saw in the back yard the day after Mother's Day). So I called Terminix to add general pest control to our termite contract, and they're coming out tomorrow. I needed to get into D's room to help clean, get everything off of the floor so they can spray, and that meant doing the laundry first as D mentioned needed to wash the linens on the bed. So it was a whole thing, and D is a day sleeper, and by about 4, I pretty much just made a bunch of noise and insisted it was time.

Anyway, everything's done that can be done now, and that's cool. But I anticipate having to do boring or hard stuff more than I should. None of it was that bad. Especially since I'm not actually the one who has to cut and place the insulation. I did prepare 2 meals, did 3 loads of laundry, took out the trash and recycling, vacuumed the whole house, installed some under-cabinet lighting, and cleaned out the litter boxes, if that makes you feel better about our division of labor.

Oh! Also, a big deal happened today when we were cleaning out D's room!

On October 26, 2013, D and I (up there) stood in line for the grand opening of Tiff's Treats in North Austin somewhere. One of the cool freebies we got was an XL burnt orange T-shirt. D wore it a lot, and because we have "affectionate" cats, it ended up torn. We sewed the holes, and once a big part ripped, so we sewed that and joked about the "scar." At some point, I brought up trashing it, but D said it had sentimental value to it. Before we moved away from the Nuthaus, I went over to see if they had any more T-shirts, and they did not.

Eventually, the collar wore out or got ripped out or something, so the shirt would fall off at the shoulders. There was finally more tear and hole than shirt material. Now that D knows how to sew, my repair responsibilities were no more, but the shirt has probably been doctored at least half a dozen times.

So, tonight, while we were cleaning up, D put three T-shirts, this one included, on the bed and said, "These can probably go away now." I said, "You can just go put them in the trash. Or do I need to?" "Probably you." So I did. Gladly. Proudly.

This might not seem like cause for noting or celebrating if you don't deal with OCD or hoarding, but, let me tell you, it's HUGE. I played it cool so as not to ruin it, but I'm just so excited that we were finally in a place where we could let those old rags go!

Onward and upward!