Category — opinions

Whether it is related to business or personal, whatever we do should be done from our heart. Conducting our affairs within an environment of compassion will be more worthwhile at the end of the day. Knowing we have made someone’s way a little lighter and brighter by just being courteous and helpfully supportive will add tremendously to our feeling of well-being to last a lifetime.

An example is a recurring situation between my neighbors. I live in a 9-story apartment building of 83 units. Most are occupied by one person living alone, and all of the residents are either disabled and/or seniors ranging in age from 18 to over 100. There is much variety in our ethnicities as well, but all are close to the same financial status.

On many occasions, holidays, birthdays, etc., we act like a big family. We also help each other during times of necessity; displaying much thoughtfulness. We share and recycle openly or anonymously; often by hanging a bag on someone’s doorknob containing goodies, clothing or other items.

But once in awhile tempers flare and harsh words are exchanged because someone feels that their charitable act was not appreciated in the way they felt it should have been. This causes the other residents to take sides, discuss the matter openly or in whispers, and generally creates an uncomfortable environment. These confrontations have even led to violence and police involvement.

This situation may sound insignificant, but when you consider it as a microcosm of events which take place in individual lives, in our workplaces, in government offices, even between countries, you can see how not doing things from the heart, but from the perspective of “what have or will you do for me,” can lead to great loss, division and disturbance of the peace, or cause war to erupt.

If we took the time to examine our motives, and if they lack true compassion, it would be better not to put forth the effort. If the cost of doing it wrong far outweighs the reward of doing it right, perhaps we should wait until we feel we are honestly doing it from our heart.

While surfing the cable stations, a familiar figure flashed on the screen and brought an instant smile to my face. He was dressed in his usual robes, sitting on a chair with his legs folded beneath him, smiling and laughing often. I felt like a child having a sweet frozen treat on a hot summer day as his words were refreshing and delightful. He is the Dalai Lama.

The name of the show was “Seeds of Compassion” on the University of California at Davis station. I had missed the introduction of the other four panel members whom the Dalai Lama called “scientists.” He also alluded to the fact that, unlike him, they were not “spiritual” leaders.

There have been few people I have trusted to be authentic and the Dalai Lama is one of them. He speaks with simplicity, clarity and confidence, and his words bring instant understanding without muddling my brain. The subject he was discussing was compassion which I believe to be among the highest attributes of humanity.

According to the Dalai Lama, there are two kinds of compassion. The first is limited and closed. This type we are all born with, and it’s only after we reach a certain level of maturity that arrogance gets involved and we change. Sometimes we become terrorists like Hitler, Bin Laden or the violent spouse next door. The second type of compassion is broad and open. This type comes with understanding that there is no difference between me and you. We are all equal.

When asked how to maintain the broad level of compassion, the Dalai Lama said the answer was in education, the “duty of the scientists” to figure out. But I believe we can all teach compassion. It is neither a spiritual or scientific issue only, but one that requires a holistic approach.

We should recognize that each individual is unique in many aspects and should be allowed to express that uniqueness in whatever facet of their life’s journey that does not conflict with another. For it is only in the diversity of opinion that conflicts lie, and compassion can define and equalize that multiplicity.

Recently I watched the movie, Diary of a Tired Black Man, which was written, produced, and directed by Tim Alexander. In the movie it seemed that every reason for the black woman being angry was given. There were numerous statements by both men and women of various ages and statuses giving their opinions as to the causes of the “Angry Black Woman Syndrome.” Some of them made sense, but some were just guys and gals venting.

For example, the majority of both sexes thought it was the lack of a father figure in the home or in the young girl’s life that was the cause. For without a male’s expression of love, the girl would grow up to seek love in all the wrong places and didn’t know what to expect from a man. Therefore, when her relationship went sour, she became angry.

Another source of a black woman’s anger was purported to be listening too much to other female relatives or girl friends. Women were portrayed as sitting around being brainwashed about the limitations and downfall of men, and sharing in the anger of their peers. According to the men, male bashing was a primary pastime among women, and some of the women agreed that they traveled in “groups” to keep men at bay.

Other reasons included the idea that women just didn’t know what they wanted; or don‘t know how to “pick“ a good man. Choosing a loser was a source of her anger, and a much discussed thought was when women get a good man, they treat him with such disrespect and disdain until he eventually becomes turned off, resentful or even violent because of “her” behavior, and his reactions makes her angry.

“The woman doesn’t know her place as a man’s helper according to the Bible,” was another man’s reason. While the majority of men agreed that they expected women to “be available” mentally, emotionally and especially physically whenever her man needs her. It is her “job.”

As I watched and waited for the introduction of what I believe is a primary reason most black women are angry, there was only one small segment in the movie that dealt with infidelity. In the scene, three of the main character’s friends were chiding and encouraging him to seek comfort in the arms of another woman. From their perspective, it was the expected behavior of a “real man,” even if he was someone’s husband or significant other.

This lack of significant attention shown to infidelity shows how unimportant men, especially Mr. Alexander, thinks infidelity is to the attitude and behavior of women. I imagine that if women were polled, not only black women, but a cross section of all women who are or have been in relationships with men, infidelity would be at or close to the top of the list of causes for their anger. Men seem to have no idea what a turn-off, anger-provoking, disgusting feeling women get toward men who cheat on them.

To say that it is a man’s nature, or act as if it is no big deal, or expect forgiveness and understanding is an insult to a woman’s sensibilities. We may forgive the indiscretion, and remain and move forward in the relationship, but we never forget the hurt, disrespect or mental image of our man rutting in the arms of another woman. Mr. Alexander’s movie failed to discover, or even discuss with women, one true reason for why the angry black woman is angry.

I think men know why women are angry, but they continue to try and find reasons to take the light off themselves and shine it on us. And their disregard for our feelings about their actions is another reason which makes and keeps women angry…very angry.

http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/06/24/how-do-politicians-survive-sex-scandals/

In celebration of Juneteenth, I wish I had the ability to express the wave of powerful emotions that washed over me and brought scalding tears to my eyes when I thought about writing this article. My mind flashed on my grandmother who was born in 1865, the year the slaves were “freed,” wearing her long white apron in Louisiana. I saw the fields of cotton my fiance took me to see in 2003 in California because I had never seen similar places down south where my people had labored during slavery.

In my mind’s eye I saw pictures of my black sisters and brothers being attacked with water hoses, dogs, Billy clubs and savagery. Then like fast forward, my mind brought me back to sitting in my bed and a blank sheet of paper, but the pain lingered.

I am a person who does not like black rhetoric, in fact I hate it; particularly when we linger and wallow in our ex-slave misery, using it as an excuse not to perform on the level we are capable of; we meaning black folks. But then I remember those who were left behind when the flight to white neighborhoods and a “better life” lured away our teachers, doctors, business people, ministers, and others of higher status and education after civil rights laws were mandated.

I don’t blame them. When my ex-husband and I bought our first home in 1976, it was in a new development with only one other black family. So I can relate to the desire to live the “American dream,” but what about all those who couldn’t leave and escape their stifling environment? What about all those who had menial jobs, but were decent, God-fearing folks who marched, and were beaten and spat on, but were left behind?

They are those on whose shoulders and graves so many of us black folks stand on today, and the generations they spawned are the people we now call the black Underclass. They are that group of low-income, barely educated, unsophisticated, crude people that many of us now avert our eyes from rather than notice or acknowledge. The ones many blacks and others from various ethnic groups are employed to serve because we are teachers, social workers, government employees, preachers, doctors, lawyers, police officers, prison staff, counselors, etc. etc. They are also the ones none of us can seem to accept as fellow human beings. We denigrate them to cases and files, numbers without faces or souls, but characters who are certainly not like us.

To proper society the Underclass are welfare mothers, drug-addicted or incarcerated or absent fathers, low-lifers, irresponsible, criminal, stupid, crazy, less-than-human wastes of time. And we wonder where they came from, or call them “refugees” as they were labeled in New Orleans after Katrina. We can take their children because they are poor and give them to others without a look back or a thought about their feelings. We can make them wait for hours while we take breaks or talk on the phone, thinking they have nothing else to do, and they need us to give them equity of food, clothing and shelter.

But the Underclass are none of these things, and without them many of us wouldn’t have jobs, or be able to live in our comfort zones. But primarily, we should consider that they are the products of the same stock of people from which many of us have come. They are the descendants of the bridges over which many of us have crossed, and they only want what we all want…to be loved and understood. But primarily, we should consider that they are the offspring of the people who were simply left behind.