On Hiring Practices

I'm not sure of the original intention of this photo, but it kind of hits the nail on the head.

I was going to write a post on the "Swine Flu" (about how much B.S. it is, and how it's a great excuse for racist media to blame "disease" on folks south of the border), but I'm in the midst of some other things and wanted to write on it before it left my mind.

**If you don't read this whole post in detail, please read the last couple sections prior to the endnotes**

I've been part of a few hiring committees of late. One is for the next Program Director of the non-profit educational organization I work for (I asked in on this one). Another is for a summer camp I work for (part of my job description for this one). The last is for my school (some involvement in hiring my own replacement).

And the first two have really hit me.

So let's do this in order.* The initial screening committee for the Program Director was myself and five white women. And I wasn't even asked to be involved in this process - I had to ask the higher-ups personally to be a part of it.

So I have to admit that every meeting weighed on my soul. It was so heavily culturally-biased, I felt like there was little I could do as the "token" minority with so little statistical pull.

And then there were the applicants. Almost zero candidates of color. Probably zero candidates outside of the middle or upper class. Part of it is that this is a non-profit job that doesn't have the money to pay people. So folks that represent our kids can't afford to waste a college education (and loans) on working this job. Not to mention that most of the staff looks like the hiring committee (except me, of course), so why would a person of color want to carry that burden, anyway?

So we're interviewing these folks, and I'm slipping into despair. How can we ever change these things when the odds are so stacked against that change? An interview with all these middle-class white ladies is only going to increase the chances of the success of another middle-class white female candidate. Because an interview is about confidence and comfort and communication. And if all the people around you have lived a totally different life experience than you - how can you feel confident that they'll give you a chance, or be comfortable in their midst, or communicate effectively?

The other committee members commenting on how awkward certain folks seemed, while I'm back in my seat, feeling outnumbered and equally-awkward.

So middle-class white ladies get hired and get more experience. They then apply more for the work. They are reflected in the staffing, so they are more drawn to working there . . . They get hired and get more experience. It's a deadly feedback-loop.

And I'm not saying people weren't qualified - they were (more or less). But it's so damn frustrating to try to figure out how somebody that doesn't fit that mold can break in without being so far above and beyond the rest. The amount of pressure and weight and frustration they would have to be willing to carry to even go through the process is unbelievable.

Because, being a person of color in an organization like this is an f-ing burden. We're the ones who always have to speak up and bring attention to the inherent biases in the systems. We're the ones who constantly have to try to educate people about experiences that they don't even care to think about. I had to ask onto a committee of all white women to try to make a small dent, and they hadn't even considered it until I asked (at least they agreed, though). Just being on the committee saps my strength and makes me want to quit on the whole ridiculous process.

But I'm not willing to give in. If I'm going to talk about it, I have too much pride not to then follow up. But it's so painful.

A little over a week ago, I met with the current executive director, associate director, and my program director (all white folks, of course) to talk about the cultural make-up of the staff.** And I wanted to cry.

I laid it all out: how hard it is to see so little representation; how uncomfortable it makes me, and then extrapolating that to how much harder that must be for the kids; acknowledging the difficulties to recruitment, etc. while demanding more.

But the problem is that it just ends up sounding like I'm asking for hires just because of race. Like I'm making the argument anti-affirmative action people always pretend we're making: that I want folks to hire less-qualified folks of color just because of their race.

And it's so hard to explain that - no - that's not what I'm asking. That it's about making it all fair. About doing the right things to attract the qualified folks of color to even apply in the first place, and then making the rest of the process actually level - like getting some color (the little we have in the first place) involved in the hiring process.

But nobody ever understands. It's a fruitless, unsatisfying endeavour. And it just makes me wonder if I really need to put myself through more of this crap.

But, of course, I do. And that brings me to my OTHER hiring committee. This one is me and two white women. And due to my busy schedule, I cannot be directly involved in the interview process. And that really worries me. Because now you've got the folks of color coming into an interview with no indication of representation in the organization. Folks that are confronting the same kind of mind-numbing sense of "other"-ness of the rest of their life as they interview for a job - without at least one browner person to help mitigate that.

And there's no real way around it. I'm trying to get myself some phone-time with these folks, but their impressions on the other two-thirds of the hiring committee will be happening separate from that. So they could very well flounder or not be able to connect in their person-to-person interviews, giving a negative taste (understandably) to my hiring counterparts. So even if I do connect with them on the phone and then make my appeal, it comes off as the token person of color trying to get another "unqualified" person of color hired as de facto "affirmative action."

Because the interview process is so inherently biased towards white folks, but the "white-as-norm" mentality makes the same white people doing the hiring unaware of it on any sort of intuitive level. And so they think the interview demonstrates "qualifications" to an objective degree. When, really, it's a test to see how well you can follow middle-class, white cultural norms.

Which, in some cases, is a necessary qualification for a job. But, in others - like working with and actually relating to kids of color and/or those in poverty - it's mostly irrelevant. And yet - it's probably the primary factor in most hires (past a certain level). Am I starting to get my point across?

It's one more hidden handicap for folks of color in this systemic game called white privilege. The hiring committee can say, "we interviewed a number of minority candidates, but they just didn't interview well," and then their hands (and consciences) are clean. When, really, it's not so different from interviewing some folks you don't know for a job, then saying they just didn't connect on the same level as that guy you went to high school with.

Nobody would hesitate to say that the latter situation is unfair and perhaps even unethical. And yet, nobody seems to say that the same thing happening with people of color interviewing with mostly-white staff or committees is anything but "equal."

Let me give you a stark example to finish off my point:

What if the middle-class white woman candidate had to interview with a room of five black males who grew up in the inner city? And she was competing with another black male who grew up in the inner city? The white woman doesn't get hired, and that's when the cries of "reverse-racism" would come flying - even if the woman had a horrible interview due to being uncomfortable, etc. while the black male connected and really seemed confident in his interview.

Now tell me that the odds aren't heavily stacked against the candidates of color in this business.

That's what I thought. And that's why my ability to hope is really taking a hit these days. Nothing's ever enough . . .


* I'm going to be purposely vague in a lot of this out of respect to the applicants and the organizations I work for.

** My focus was on racial background, but I talked about economics, as well.

*** And before anybody starts telling me I hate white women - in my line of work, it's heavily-weighted towards white females. It just is. And that was who was on my hiring committees. If it happened to be all white men, or only Latino females, or all anything else, all the same reasoning would apply.

You're Not the Only One

I don't know what's up with my new kick on getting "unusual phenomenon" images to tie to my posts, but that's how it is. Anyway.

"You're not the only one."

Those can be words of support and comfort during dark times. They can be the beginning of a threat or hint at hidden knowledge. They can also be chastisement, on par with "get over yourself."

I'm going to start with the latter.

So I teach at a middle school, right? And part of that is the discipline process. There are various ways that goes down in my school, but, invariably, I have kids who are convinced that they are the only ones who get in trouble for certain things, and they make sure I (and the other staff members) know that.

There are a few reasons they believe that. The first is that they come out of a public school system where that might have been true, to a certain degree. I work with the kids that got kicked out of public schools (or were on their way) and, unfortunately, quite often those are the kids that get nailed with the "bad kid" label. And, in public school, once you have that label, good luck in convincing people that what you just did was "just a joke" or anything like that. Of course, it's not like the kids didn't honestly bring down a lot of those consequences upon themselves, but - as I often try to explain to them - a reputation tends to create expectations, positive or negative, and we often pay repeatedly (and sometimes unfairly) for our negative reputations.

Another things is the parents. Oh my. How often have I talked to a parent who battles me about "what happened to the other kid(s)" or how "he/she is just a kid, it's ridiculous for them to get in trouble for (whatever they did)." That's when I dust off my explanation (the same one I give the kids): I teach a full CLASS of students. Not just one at a time. Therefore, there come times when I must choose - one kid who's struggling, behaviorally, or the rest of the class? It's an easy choice. The funny thing is, the students understand that, generally. So many times they accept the consequences and are fine with it (because they know me well enough to understand why it happened) only to have the parent battle it.

Again - the parents aren't always unjustified in their defense of their children. Because they are used to school systems, teachers, and administrations that are culturally clueless (I'm not just talking about race here, but class, as well). They're used to their kids being judged from on high by folks that don't know how to interact with kids that aren't middle-class (or white, or both) and so unfair consequences do come down.

And, finally, the biggest reason the kids are convinced of their "only one who gets in trouble" status is that they are middle school kids - they're totally self-absorbed. Therefore, they aren't going to notice what happens with anybody else, unless they think it's evidence of their own self-centered individuality (in terms of treatment). The kids aren't going to make a mental note of when other kids get in trouble for the same things they do (often, they don't know about it, either) because it's not about them. So they are convinced that they are the only ones experiencing negative consequences.

But, for good and ill - they aren't the only ones. The kids aren't the only students in my classes. They're not the only ones to get in trouble. They're not the only ones to succeed, either. And it's helping kids find that understanding - the broadening from "me, me, and me" to an awareness and understanding and empathy for other people that is probably the major responsibility of teaching middle school kids.

Problem being - even though, developmentally-speaking, kids should learn and "grow out of it," it doesn't seem to be just a middle-school phenomenon. Because adults don't get this one very often, either, especially when dealing with race.

Here's an example:

I was talking with my co-worker and good friend (we'll call her "W.") the other day. And, during this conversation, we came back to the fact that I'm the first real friend she's had outside of her own race (she happens to be black).* She was talking about how - before knowing me - she never would have believed that a mixed Asian/white person could understand race and racism. When she mentioned that to Professor Griff (yeah - my friends chat about race with folks like Professor Griff, and I'll name-drop it), he told her that OF COURSE that's how it is. He pointed it out as an indication that racism is alive and strong, that folks who should have such disparate experiences of race can understand it at the same, base level.

She told me how some of her other friends (who also don't know me) don't get it, though - thinking that we must be hooking up or something (it's not like that), not believing that she can have these real conversations with a "white boy" (only time I've ever been referenced as that, for sure) like me. When she has tried to explain that they'd get along with me, as well, they don't buy it.

And this is not the exception. I think this situation is the general rule of race here in the States. We all do such a good job of being absorbed by ourselves and our own experiences of race that we don't see what's happening to other races. We don't see that we walk the same path, on a general level. White folks can't see their own privilege, only seeing themselves, and so they don't see that racism is so damn prevalent. Black folks get caught up in their own fight and struggle, only to ignore the parallel struggles around them, often discounting other experiences of race. Asians examine Asian life, Arab think Arab, etc.

All the while, we're all digging deeper down into the morass of race and racism (not to mention other forms of oppression by gender, sexuality, religion), thinking we're the only ones who are struggling. The only ones fighting. The only ones dealing with it or knowledgeable enough to DO something.

But we're not. Not one of us is alone in this. We are not the only ones. There are millions of folks (literally) fighting against the same things. And they may not look like us, but they can understand where we are coming from, if we let them. If we can grow up enough out of the middle-school mentality to open our eyes and let them teach us.

But, all have to do is go to Racialicious for a second and read the comments, and it's often this battle of "who is it more acceptable to be racist towards these days?" Or "no - this thing isn't racist towards -blank- it's racist towards -other group." A bunch of smart, knowledgeable, open folks - battling over racial semantics and trying to prove that their lot is the hardest, instead of taking advantage of having all these smart, passionate people in one (digital) place and bringing it together.

I've said it in other ways before, but what if people did just get over themselves and realize that they weren't the only ones? That they can actually learn about race and racism from OTHER races and be stronger for it. That there's so much common ground, it would be easy to champion all the causes at one go. What if?

Let's look at the data: about 300 million people in the U.S. About 221 million white. 37 million black. Much less every other race.

So - if black folks fight alone, they make up a bit over 10% of the population. A decent number, but politically, relatively insignificant. Now, imagine if all the races got over themselves and stepped up? That would be over 25% of the population - much more significant. Now, add in all the white allies and other white minority groups (LGBT, religious minorities) and you'd easily have a third to a half of all the people in the States. And that is politically significant.

But as long as we all stay middle-school about it all? 10% is the best we can hope for.

So keep telling yourselves that you're not the only one. Remember that. And then make it count for something.

*Not calling "W" out here, just celebrating and marking it as a conversation of note.

**Not to mention all the space aliens secretly "passing" as human beings . . .

On Sitting at the Same Table

The photo above is the best I could do to illustrate this post. I spent about a half hour searching for an image that showed what I was going to talk about - with little luck. Because what I'm about to convey is - obviously - very uncommon.

The other day, I was hanging out with my kids at lunch, munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (with apricot jelly - that's my lunch almost every day at school) and watching them interact. I looked around at the various clumps of kids talking and messing with each other, and something seemed strange.

They were laughing and playing with their food - nothing odd there. The girls and boys were insulting each other while simultaneously trying to find a reason to touch each other - perfectly natural.

So what was up?

OH! The groups weren't separated by race!

Seriously.

Now, a while back, I wrote a post (On Kids and Race) about the kids self-segregating themselves by race in the classroom and at lunch (when they had a choice of seats). Basically, I argued that that wasn't such a bad thing - inherently - and that it reflected true diversity in the fact that there were enough of each race for kids to actually do that. I said that it was all about being comfortable and finding security, and so it was good that the kids were able to find that (and that that's just how things fall out).

But, suddenly (probably not so suddenly, but that's how I noticed it), we're two-thirds through the school year, and the kids are sitting in groups that are all mixed up, racially.

So now, I have to ask - how did THAT happen?! After my post about how self-segregation is natural and happens everywhere, how can I explain how it stopped happening in our school?

The truth? It didn't.

That's right - even though all the kids are sitting in little photo-op racially-diverse groups at lunch, self-segregation has not stopped happening.

Instead, it's just the characteristics that the kids are self-segregating for have changed.

We're a small school (60 students total in our student body). We've kept our main group (probably about 40 kids) largely intact through the year (kids come and go all the time with us, but we've been able to retain more this year). We are a relationship-based program, so we are constantly talking about building our school community, kids sit down with each other and talk out their conflicts (it's hard to avoid connection when you're two middle school kids explaining why you're angry and sharing other feelings with each other). Our kids constantly talk about our school as a family (with the positives and negatives that come from that).

And so they know each other pretty well, now. They started by dividing themselves up by race for immediate comfort and security, but - due to the way we do things, combined with the small population - they couldn't avoid learning about each other. They couldn't avoid interacting with each other. And so they couldn't avoid finding common ground with each other. And, subsequently - they couldn't avoid making friends with folks outside of their respective races.

It's a beautiful little social experiment tied up in a neat little bow.

But does this all mean that there aren't cliques? Of course not. Does it mean that the kids "all just get along"? No. It just means that tensions and divisions drawn along racial lines are few and far between.

It's noticeable in behavior, as well. Earlier in the year, the kids of color who had trouble with our white teachers would often fall back on race as an issue and explanation for why they had trouble in those classes (to be honest, I think those were actually pretty accurate assessments); but now, the kids are more likely to find specific reasons and actions for the disconnect, without necessarily tying them to race.*

I don't hear the students lumping a bunch of students together by race in explanations of who they have problems with - race is no longer the unifier, and so they are much less likely to group or stereotype by race.

And these are all HUGE. Middle school kids are always going to have conflicts. They're always going to take out their frustrations on somebody else, at times (especially kids like the ones I work with, who have plenty of valid reasons to be frustrated). But if they have removed the lens of race as a means to focus on who to blame or who to be angry at, that's an incredibly important thing.

And it all goes to show that all it really takes is exposure. Science has proven this time and again, but nobody seems to follow through on acting on that. If kids (and adults) just had to work with large numbers of folks of another race (or many other races) on a regular basis over an extended period of time, their inherent prejudices and stereotypes would fade. Period.

The key being large numbers of another race. White folks like to talk about their (one or two) "black friends" as proof of their lack of prejudice - while living out a lie. The reason that is possible? Because those few black (or other raced) friends are only kept in mind as the exception. It takes much larger numbers - the true diversity I have mentioned before - to change rules (that's just how the human mind works).

Same thing for every other race or minority group. Enmity and anger and blame and misunderstanding attached to an entire group based on race cannot go away (or at least be handled reasonably) without full, consistent exposure to other groups.

Which makes me always think of my solution to the problems of race in this country: mandatory social service. At age 18, everybody enters a two-year social service program that entails moving to another state and living and working with a group of other young people of all different races and backgrounds. It would broaden folks' life experiences, improve our infrastructure (without using prisoners as slave-labor, but that's another story), and expose everybody in this f-ing country to people unlike themselves. Cause them to form bonds with people that don't look like them. And make it so much more likely that general empathy and understanding would start seeping into how people in this country dealt with each other on a regular basis.

And I know what a lot you are thinking - "like that would change anything - everybody would just self-segregate by race and background right off the bat, which would increase tensions." And you'd be right - at the beginning. But two years is a long time (in some ways). Enough to put folks in positions - time and again - to rely on the people from other backgrounds. To get to know those from other backgrounds. And, eventually (as with my school), to become friends with those from other backgrounds. And how beautiful would that be?

It won't ever happen, of course. But it would work. Maybe when I become the third mixed-race president . . .

*A quick note here - I really do think that race is a major reason for why the teachers weren't able to connect fully with those students (I think that's our biggest failure as a program, our lack of true diversity in experience and understanding by staff, in general). By no means were the kids playing the "race card." However, it's still very important that the kids are now able to specify exactly what things are happening that they have difficulty with, as opposed to extrapolating it out to simply a matter of race and leaving it at that.

On Blogging, Preaching to the Choir, and Throwing a Party

I chose this image not because I'm going to write on the movie, but because it seemed to best convey all the topics to be covered in this particular post.

So who would have thought my last post would be so aptly named? "On Walking in a Wind Storm." We certainly got ourselves some wind - and quite the storm - from this one. More drama than I'm used to - for sure - and I teach at a middle school.

I keep thinking of the image of the Joker from the most recent Batman movie, as he says, "And . . . away . . . we . . . GO!"

BOOM!!! (imagine explosion sounds)

So here goes. I've been crazy frustrated for the last few days. To the point of not sleeping and all that. I have a feeling my counterpart in this particular blogosphere whirl of a storm probably has an idea of a similar kind of irritation and stress. Because - I mean - did either of us ever want this kind of ridiculous "battle"? I seriously doubt it.

And there are a number of frustrations to this - that I've already aired - but one that's got me is what happened when I tried to wander over to "the other side" and say my piece. In retrospect, I should have totally seen it coming, but it kind of surprised me the reactions I got over there. Nowhere (other than with the blogger herself) was there any sort of response to the gist of the matter - that something had offended, unintentionally, and should be addressed in some way. Instead, there were attacks, numerous references to my "sensitivity" and inability to take a joke, "PC" references . . . the usual.

And, really, why did that surprise me? Because that's what happens in the larger world - but it's also what happens when you step into somebody else's turf and call out the boss. At that point, whether or not you are making sense, the boss's people are going to step in and protect. That's normal human reaction. When the opportunity to draw a line in the sand and call out sides occurs, we all choose a side and defend those we know. "Our people" - whether that line is drawn by family ties, race, neighborhood, or who reads whose blog.

And that's exactly what happened. Those on "my side" jumped to tell me how right I was and how reasonable I was being, while "her side" jumped to say the exact same thing to her - while both of us were probably a little bit wrong. Et voila! Drama.

And that's what really bothers me here. Because this blog stopped being about my personal space to vent or "practice writing regularly." It's become an opportunity to educate and share experiences, as a means to spread the word and battle the institutionalized and media-led ignorance of those living in this country. And I don't say "ignorance" as the loaded term that so many see it to be, but the definition - lack of knowledge. Because, if you don't have the experience, and nobody takes the time to teach you, you're going to lack that knowledge.

And in my attempts to share experience and knowledge, I've developed a little following. Not a huge one, by any means, but a decent number. The problem is, this particular following sounds so much like a choir. Because people choose to come to this blog to read it. And most people are going to continually come to and read a blog that they agree with - because it's just too painful and frustrating to read something that you can't nod your head to on a regular basis.

The problem is, that process makes it difficult for true education and learning to occur. Because one-sided agreeing doesn't really change anybody's mind. I just get to hear - "Yeah! Say it again! I totally agree with you!!!" - which feels great, but am I really reaching anybody that wasn't already headed in that direction?

And then I found a venue (blog) FULL of EXACTLY who I want to reach - folks learning about race and dealing with it from the context of raising their children (of color) in a white-dominated society and world. Folks that seemed willing and excited to learn (I know this because I only found out about it when they linked to my post on Guess Who? as something to think about). And so I paid it a visit. And I saw something that bothered me, so I commented - thanking the writer for the link, and explaining my concern.

And then . . . away . . . we . . . went!

EXPLOSION!!!!

Because it turned out that that particular choir wasn't having it. We all went into "protection" mode. And here we are.

Want to know the saddest thing? Since the drama occurred, I have gotten hundreds of hits coming over from that site. When I was originally linked to, as a means to learn something and think about it? Three. It's one more microcosm of how people of color tend to get attention in this society - ignored until something BIG and negative goes down.

So where am I going with this? I'm not exactly sure. But I have always been proud of my ability to win anybody over - no matter their demographics. Race, gender, economic status - throw it all away when the CVT walks in, because he can find the common ground and walk there. The beauty of practice in "The Gray Area." But that's in person. In writing? I tend to chafe a little bit more . . .

And so I find myself thinking about a party that happened at my new house after Thanksgiving. My new roommate (a black man) can best be described to have stereotypical "hippie" tendencies from an outside viewpoint. His friends follow suit. The friends I brought to this party were a bit more colorful (still a few white folks), but from a hip-hop cultural grounding.

So, most of the party, there were sort of two parties happening - the upstairs: hand-drums, barefoot, and less-clad dancing with abandon( average age between 40 and 50); and the downstairs: chilling on a big couch, listening to hip-hop and giving each other a hard time (average age mid-twenties to mid-thirties). When folks from the upstairs wandered down, we would exchange cordial greetings and introductions, there would be an awkward pause, and then the newcomer would return to upstairs.

Except at the end. At the end, the straggling "upstairs folks" came on down and joined us all on the big couch. We made a mini-performance space, and folks took turns sharing their words. I shared some politicized spoken word about my relationship with race as it pertains to my father. An "upstairs woman" shared some of her own spoken word (also political) from back in the day. Two of the downstairs crew dropped lyrics over a generic beat I put on. And we all just shared a positive, creative, and intimate space for a short period of time. "Them" and "us" - sitting all lined up on a big-ass couch, appreciating each others' talents (and courage to share).

And THAT'S the kind of party I want to host again. A party where you can all have your different places to camp out and do whatever it is that brings you satisfaction, while also coming together to share and learn and connect at the end of it all.

I don't want to preach to just the choir. Sure, I need the choir to keep me fed and strong enough to battle on through the rough stuff, but I don't want only the choir. Because I want the opportunity to really reach some people who don't see my side. I want the opportunity to re-structure my own views based on somebody else's comments. And I want the opportunity to foster a respectful dialogue between different sides, so that they can edge a little bit closer towards common ground.

And so I make an offer to all those from the "upstairs party" that have been coming over here to see what I have to say: why don't you come back again, bob your head to my beat for a minute, appreciate the subtleties of a well-formed verse? And to those with me at the "downstairs" party - how 'bout we go upstairs for a bit and dance a little; see how a head-spin goes to a natural drum rhythm? And when we hit that point of being a bit too far past our respective comfort zones, we'll both head back to our little areas of the party - but we won't go home. Oh, no. We'll share the same house, and all the positive, good-natured fun emanating from upstairs and down, until we're relaxed enough to switch it up again and stretch.

And to the now-"infamous" blogger from the "upstairs party" - I offer you a space to post a little something. Share your thoughts and where you're at, honestly and respectfully (as you have been doing), so we can reach out a little bit. I offer my own services to the "upstairs," as well (but not pushing it).

And wouldn't that be quite the party!!?? I mean - seriously. Somewhere where we all don't just preach to choirs, but to the "other side." Somewhere where true, knock-the-breath-out learning happens. Dang.

I'm not a (specifically) religious man, but I've always felt that everything happens for a reason. I doubt you disagree. So wouldn't that be tight if this was the reason?

That's my little dream. Not likely, by any means, but something worth aspiring to (and daydreaming about).

And as far as my choir goes - thank you all for the support, don't stop reading, and please feel free to share a verse or two whenever the need strikes.

On Bridging the Divide . . . through Paintball?

This might be one of my stranger posts, but bear with me here - because I'm serious.

So - I was down in LA this last weekend. And, although I'm going to save this for another post - I have to say that being there really knocked the f-ed up aspect of Prop 8 into me. As there is a large gay community in LA, there were marches and rallies being held all over the city, and everybody was talking about it. My brother (who I was visiting) told me about his friends who had just had their knees cut out. How can you just undo something like that?

I'll write more on this in a future post (soon) - and I'm not trying to minimize the issue - but I want to try to keep a little bit of the positive flow that Obama's election brought me, so I'm going to change the subject right now. To paintball.

Yup, paintball.

My brother and I went paintballing my last day in town, and I couldn't help but bring my race-ometer with me, and I was kind of amazed by the results.

To be brief - paintball is a form of entertainment that basically consists of running around with guns in a faux-battle type environment shooting each other with paintballs (that explode and thus show you that you've been hit). There are playing fields all over the place - but the one we went to consisted of a few different large fields covered in bunkers and hills and partial walls and what-not. We joined as "walk-ons" with other people who had just shown up on their own to play - and for each game, we were divided randomly into two different teams (try to shoot members of the other team, and protect those on your own as you try to capture your opponents flag).

That's a quick summary, but it captures the gist. So - obviously - it's not the most PC form of entertainment, due to the gun-toting, shoot other people, war-imagery nature of the game. It's pretty "masculine" and vaguely violent. So you'd expect it to be a bunch of adrenaline-filled macho-men that just want to shoot things.

And, at first look, it seemed like that was the case. Most of the other people there with us when we got there were men, a lot of them in army fatigues. They ranged from about 18 to 40 years old.

But, an hour later after more people had arrived, I started really looking around, and I was a bit surprised. The first thing was the incredible racial diversity of the participants. There were white guys, of course, but also a large number of Latino (mostly Chicano), Asian (Filipino, Vietnamese, Japanese - with certainty), black, and ambiguous folks like me and my brother. And I'm talking true diversity here, meaning white did not make up 50% by any stretch - and neither did any other racial group. And neither did any group fill the "token" role of being just one or two people.

Then I noticed it wasn't just guys. There were actually a decent number of female players (not 50-50, of course, but still many more than I would have expected).

The age-range stretched FAR. There were a ton of younger kids (from around 11 to 16 years old), as well as their parents and other older folks (over 50 for sure, probably up to 70-ish). And a number of people spanning the years in between (and I really don't think that was the largest population).

And the part that really blew my mind? The span of socioeconomic categories. Seriously. Because, in real life, when people are talking about diversity - they are seldom talking about a group that spans different economic classes evenly. But this was just that. There were the stereotypical "working-class" types (more rural, white hunter-types). There were "urban" youth (vaguely "thuggish" with the whole hip-hop "gangsta" look). There were middle-class folks (some business-types, college kids). And there were upper-class folks driving around nice-ass cars. And it really was pretty evenly spread throughout. Of course, I'm making some big assumptions and generalizations about the people there based on a number of stereotypes - but I feel confident in my assessment, nonetheless.

And finally - the number of languages being spoken on the field was refreshing. Everybody there spoke English fluently (as far as I could tell), but it felt good to hear them easily switching back and forth between English and (what I assume to be) their "home" language. I heard a group of kids speaking Japanese with their parents. A number of folks (that didn't come together) were speaking Tagalog. Spanish was prevalent. And there were a few other languages that I didn't recognize.

All of the above. On a paintball field. And it felt perfectly natural and fine. There were no conflicts. In a game where you shoot other people (and it can hurt), there were no arguments, or threats, or even cussing. People just played the game. We were stuck on random teams with strangers - guaranteed to be filled with people spanning a number of different demographic categories from each other - and we played together, as a team. We strategized, covered each other, took risks for each other, and played to win without blaming anybody else when we lost.

And it was FUN. On a number of levels. It just felt so good. Maybe it was the ongoing high from the Obama election, but it just filled me with ease and positivity. F-ing PAINTBALL brought together so many different groups of people that we have been taught cannot get along in this country. We're filled with stereotypes about racist "red-neck" rural white guys who just want to go hunting and hurt non-white folks. We're taught that urban Latin@s and black folks are gang members that are violent and unable to get along with other groups. Asian folks are foreigners that don't trust or respect other races. Middle-to-upper class people are arrogantly prejudiced against "lower" economic classes and races and don't mix it up.

But - for one day -this was all flipped on its head. On a paintball field.

And I couldn't help but try and apply the lessons learned to the bigger world: the most obvious one is a common goal. The focus wasn't on race, or economic status, or any of these other dividing factors because everybody was playing together to achieve a common goal - and so individuals were willing to help each other out and get along because it clearly benefitted themselves, directly.

The other big part (in my head): there were no given stereotypes to play upon. It was paintball. To my knowledge (and probably to most of the people there) there are no stereotypes about what kind of person is "naturally" better at paintball. Not by body-type (I saw plenty of "larger" folks who were just as good as any "more athletic" competitors), not by race (there's no "insert-race are just built for paintballing," and - surprisingly - not by gender (the females were just as good) or age (one of the best players was the oldest). So, without stereotypes to fall back on, every individual was treated on their own merit - by what they demonstrated on the field and nothing else. And when was the last time you ever saw that actually happen?

Finally, there's the simple fact that the stakes were low. We were all there to play a game. And that's it. We wanted to win, of course, but that wasn't all-important (because there was always another game, another opportunity to make up for it). And so we were able to relax and not resort to all the negative qualities of humankind that end up being triggered by the stress of high-stakes (survival, success, etc.) and that cannot be ignored.

So my question is this: how can we build this into "real life"? Can we even do so? Are there other areas of life where these three conditions exist to eliminate the tension of "perceived difference"? Because now, I actually think it can be done. It would take a ton of work, of course (because I think it runs counter to a lot of ways we do things in this country), but it could be done. And if y'all can help me figure it out, I'll see what I can do to become your president and put it into action after Obama's eight years are through . . .

* Now, obviously, there are stereotypes about sexual preference that likely would be brought out in this atmosphere. However, I cannot be sure about that one, as that was not a readily-noticeable distinguishing factor in this context. Of course, I had a lot of other assumptions dashed about stereotypes that would be played out in this situation, so maybe even ones about sexual preference wouldn't have come out this time (unlikely, but I've been proven wrong before).

On Real Diversity

I'm going to get right to it: the photo above? Not "real diversity." That photo is propaganda. A couple token people of color thrown into a mix of white folks in business attire. Diverse nothing.

When I talk about "diversity," I'm not talking about photo-ops. I'm not talking about political correctness or anything else that most idiots think of when they say "diversity." No - I'm talking about a real mix of people, cultures, opinions, appearances, etc.

So what has me on this topic? Ridiculous as it may seem to those that have not shared my experience, I'm talking about the camp I just spent the last month working at. An experience I've loved and longed-for for 4 years running, and this year it became most clear to me what is so special about that experience: real diversity.

The kind of diversity most people dare not see in their lives. Diversity of opinion and ways of being. Diversity of experiences. The last month I spent time with immigrants, youth, my elders, homosexuals, first-generation Americans, Native Americans, athletes, artists, hippies, hip-hop artists, writers, rich folks, poor folks, middle-class, youth workers, maintenance workers, students, teachers, professors, at least 7 different languages spoken . . . the list goes on. And that was just the staff. We had racial diversity covered, as well, but not in that way of finding token folks to fill gaps. The people of color were diverse in background, opinion, and culture, as well.

I didn't agree with everybody. I didn't appreciate everybody's music or art. Not everybody liked the things I like. Some of them HATED some of the things I enjoy. We said things we shouldn't have, at times. We called each other out. We held each other accountable. And we RESPECTED each other. Every last one of us. And damn, did we all learn a lot from each other.

And that's what real diversity is about. It's about learning. It's about being tossed right out of your comfort zone, shutting your mouth, and learning from somebody that you wouldn't have chosen to be learning from in your own ideal "perfect world." Because people don't actually WANT true diversity. We want the kind that looks like us, speaks like us, agrees with us. We don't truly want diversity of opinions and experiences - because then we get offended, and our own personal truths get challenged. And so we stick with token diversity and call ourselves "open-minded."

But sometimes, we find ourselves in a position in which real diversity surrounds us. I wanted to work at this camp. I did not choose (mostly) the people that I worked with. And so I found myself living in a small community (about 80, when the kids were there) made up of a truly diverse population for a month. And it filled me up. And it made me need more.

I can't even begin to catalogue all I've learned from being out there. I learned about the MOVE movement in Philadelphia from a man who lived it first-hand (if you don't know that story, look it up). I've learned about life on the res and the Native American world in the United States. I've been exposed to up-and-coming hip hop artists and folk singers, as well as established hip hop artists, rock and roll stars, and poets. I've talked about life in Thailand, Venezuela, Mali, Cuba, Vietnam, Mexico, Turkmenistan, Russia - all with people born in those countries. I've had real conversations with the rich white head of one of the biggest advertising companies in the world (associated with Coca-Cola and Nike). I've shared my fire and experiences with rich white board members to kids of all races living in poverty. I've learned some sign language from a deaf cook and celebrated the upcoming marriage of a gay woman. I've argued with all of them, and I consider all of them friends - most of them knowing me better, in spite of our vast differences, than most of the friends I've known for years.

All in four one-month chunks. And that's only the beginning.

And I only wish that there was a way to make this happen in the "real" world. I've thought to myself, 'I just need to hang out with these folks more in Portland.' But that's not true. Because, in Portland, I would be hanging out with these folks in their own social circles - where this kind of true diversity would not exist. Because people are not willing to put in the time to get to know people that don't fall into their own, "safe," comfort-zone level of diversity. And that's so sad.

And I don't really know if I have any solutions. There must be some, but I struggle to come up with any. Because I know this is something that is important - I know that my soul NEEDS this - but I have no idea how to get it. I have no idea how to consciously create real diversity in my own life. Because knowing them all and hanging out with them individually is not enough. I want it all in one place. I want that beautiful mixing of ideas and ways of being that creates something new and amazing. One-on-one is better than nothing, and I have that - but I want MORE.

Because I have seen more, and now there is no going back.

Mixed, Triumphant

Mixed, Triumphant,

This blog and my posts are young, yet, but I felt that it was important that I have some all-positive posts thrown in as often as possible because I have a tendency to focus on and criticize all that's wrong without acknowledging - enough - all that's right (I also tend to write long sentences).

So, in that light, I want to celebrate a wonderfully, positively mixed 24 hours that began on the evening of July 3rd and went on through last night.

My July 3rd evening began with me hanging out with some folks: my mixed (black/white) friend and two of her friends (a black woman, and a white man). I'm not going to go into a lot of detail there, but it was a good time, in general, but it also stood out as a nice combination of races just having a good time in mostly-white (and more-than-that-segregated) Portland. I also got a chance to bond with T. about how - since South Africa has now made Chinese folks legally "black"* - we now had the same background and should be able to understand each other and connect much more. We pondered the new strength blacks and Chinese alike would now have as one single identity (and more, but I digress).

Anyway, I then slipped away from that group to head to an Open Mic** where I was going to make my debut (secretly, because my friend and the other woman are a professional spoken-word duo, and I didn't feel ready for them to watch me this first time, just in case I fell flat).

So a quick explanation: I dabble in some hip hop and spoken word for my own personal entertainment (and therapeutic release), and so I had determined that it was finally time to bring it public (I've been doing this for quite a while, but never for a large, public audience). So there's a venue here in Portland (so far, the ONLY one I've found) that does a weekly Open Mic that sort of caters to the political, more colorful folks of this town. It's probably the only place here where the performers are pre-dominantly people of color (and - I would add, with bias - talented), and it thus has a much more welcoming feel for me. I scouted out the scene a few times in advance before signing on to perform, but I finally felt ready.

Now, the emcee had already told me that I was probably going to go first. That wasn't the best news, because - usually - when the first person goes, a lot of people haven't shown up yet, and the energy is a bit dead. So I planned to start with a lighter, tongue-in-cheek piece about "nobody listening," and then to drop some fire after I had their attention. The second piece was one I had done for some people before - basically a tribute to my Chinese side, while touching on the "mixed" experience.

So I'm all set, a little bit nervous, got in some last-second practicing, when I walk in the door. And, heading in before me was this whole group of people (looked like a family) that were clearly Asian (to some degree), and I couldn't help but feel good about my luck that they'd be in the audience when I went (not so many Asian audience members, usually). And, better yet, that group ended up sitting right up front, so that they would be the people I could see best during my performance.

My luck held out even stronger when the host for the night ended up arriving late - meaning by the time we actually started, the place was almost full, and I was going to have myself an AUDIENCE.

So I got up there and did my thing. I was wearing my China national team soccer jersey (for obvious reasons), and - before I even started - I got a "CHIN-A!" cheer from the front row. Things were looking good. My first piece was relatively well-received (got the little chuckles I was looking for), and then I laid into them with my fire.

And - holy sh$$ - did it go over. The whole crowd was listening as I spoke, cheering at certain parts - it felt GOOD. And then, as I finished off my little climb to the climax (a litany of Asian stereotypes that don't pertain to me, ending with "but I'm STILL Chinese") everybody just went nuts (especially the first row). People yelling, clapping (apparently, some stood up, but I couldn't see that). I mean - CRAZY. It felt so damn good. And, as I walked off the stage, the group in the front grabbed me and told me that EVERYBODY in that row (about 10 of them) was mixed. Absolutely perfect.

I was finished, but it wasn't over, either. Because, a couple acts after me, one of the regulars (a guy, "Don Juan," who I knew was Asian, but didn't generally mention that in his poetry) got up there and - saying I had inspired him - spit fire, as well - with his own piece blasting Asian stereotypes and our "role" in society. Needless to say, we all went crazy for that one, too. And then - after THAT - one of the mixed ladies of the front row got up to sing and blew the top off the whole place. I mean, she had the most soulful, amazing voice I have heard live in a LONG time - and the host acknowledged the same when she was finished.

It was like "Asian Pride Night" in Portland. And - damn - did it feel good. Hell - just to even know that there were that many other mixed folks IN Portland, let alone to have them hear me do my thing and then rock the house afterwards.

And then - about 24 hours later - was the 4th of July fireworks display. For brevity's sake, I'll just get to the point: all of Portland, downtown. Not just all of white Portland. Not just all of middle-class Portland. ALL of Portland. Every race, from poor to rich and everything in between. Families. Kids. Old. Young. All downtown to watch the fireworks.

As I said before - Portland is a very white town. It's also very segregated, so even though there ARE people of color in Portland, they don't exactly mix in large numbers. If there are a bunch of people of color around, that probably means you're in an area where there are few white folks. Or if there are a lot of Asian folks, few black or Latin@. You get the picture.

But last night, waiting by the river for the fireworks - EVERYBODY. In one place. All mixed up and excited. All equally eager with anticipation. Kids of all colors (I saw a lot of mixed ones, as well) running around, getting impatient for the show. And when that show came - DAMN. It was one for the ages - a great display. And - better yet - everybody in that huge crowd around me had the same happy expression on their faces. Awe. Joy. Innocence. Excitement. Nobody there was thinking about race or stereotypes or prejudice for those 15-20 minutes. They were just giving in to their child-like wonder and joy as they universally appreciated brightly-colored explosions*** in the sky above Portland.

And that's when I had one of those cheesy, Hallmark moments when I thought to myself, "America just isn't THAT bad." No, we're not a "melting pot." Portland will go back to how it has been starting today. But last night happened. And I don't think it could happen like that in many other places in the world. And the night before happened - where I could get political and spit fire at "the establishment" to applause, without any threat of censure or arrest.

Portland is mostly white - but it isn't ALL white. And this country can have its issues - but there is a lot right. And, for that, I hope everybody had a very happy Independence Day.

I know I did.


* I shall likely post in the future about what it will mean for the world that Chinese is the new black (in South Africa).

** For anybody in the Northwest (or headed here someday), the Open Mic is called "Harlem Nights" and happens every night at the Ohm, in downtown Portland. Click on the link above to learn more.

*** Fireworks, as we all know, were created by the Chinese - so that felt like some nice cross-over, as well.