Category — Stereotypes

In a series of articles I have written for this blog, I focused on the intolerance perpetrated by U.S. blacks toward other U.S. blacks. But the subject of this article has gone around in my mind like bits of fabric loosely sewn together with threads of memory and heartache. So rather than continue my own tirade regarding black intolerance, I decided to flip the script and discuss another valid point. Instead of focusing on the pieces, why not reflect on the whole?

Research for this project contained a patchwork of discussions with peers, reading material provided by “experts” and statistics about the supposed division of black people which serve to stir up much debate. Controversy has produced a tattered remnant with uneven edges and puckered seams; an unattractive and uncomfortable quilt whose rhetorical shape does not resemble the blanket which enfolds us all. They do not speak the language of truth that despite our differences we are all black, therefore, we are one.

First, to those who are not black descendants of slave forefathers, or might not have been born in the U.S., I believe I can unequivocally say that there are few blacks in America who are not proud to be black. Whether we are accused of “acting white,“ dye our hair blond, talk “proper” or only date members of other ethnic groups, we love, and are proud of being black.

Second, we recognize each other for the special-ness that we share.  After slavery was abolished in the 1860s, we formed intact communities and lived among those like ourselves. Because of segregation and Jim Crow laws, we were generally separated from white Americans because of  the color of our skin.

The civil rights movement of the 1960s brought the illegality of our separateness to the forefront of the world’s attention, and new laws allowed for desegregation and integration. For many, the opportunity to relocate allowed more urbane blacks who could afford it to move beyond our communities into new neighborhoods. So, we were again separated except it was from our own people due to differences in economics, education and social skills. That separation marked the beginning of the situation we find ourselves in today.

Prior to the 1960, there were variations in education and economic classes among blacks, the same as in other groups. But the one thing that most of Americans, black and white, had in common was their social skills. We all knew “please,” “thank you,” “sir,” and “’mam.” Direction, support and aptitude were the most determining factors as into which class blacks would fall.

As the years have gone by and the populations of both those who left and those who remained behind have grown, the inequality between the two has come more forcefully to the attention of those who made it out. They are looking back, seeing their brothers and sisters lagging behind, and wondering what to do about it.

The success of many who have risen from the ranks has shown such outstanding achievement, the question of why we all have not made it has come to the forefront of discussion. I believe the reason is that there is not enough directional and economic resources available, and not for a lack of inspiration, imagination or ingenuity. There are many local people making and plying goods and services, some legitimate, some not.

The crux of this problem has been how we can focus assistance on blacks without appearing bias toward other groups, as there is a definite desire to help. We see it in the flourish of entertainers and others aiding blacks in African nations rather than at home, because it was viewed as the job of government or churches to provide for the needs of lower income Americans, and those entitlements and charities continue to some extent.

However, in the present economy, black culture needs are not being addressed because items that had a slight resemblance to ridicule or stereotyping was made “politically incorrect” in 1965. That ban on such items, even those created by blacks,  has attributed to their being shunning by other blacks. So the need to support each other has created a microcosm of human to human assistance that is existing to the extreme in the macrocosm of need in the world.

As before, blacks helping their neighbors on the other side of town would serve as an example to the world of raising up a culture from its lower status. The opportunities are plentiful as there are many black artists, writers, inventors and designers, dreamers of great dreams, who could use financial backing, direction and support. To be able to move their products and services to the mainstream would allow them to return the favor and help those organizations struggling to educate, feed and clothe others. The trend could continue until the majority of, not only blacks, but all Americans are achieving on the level of which we are capable.

There are many who are capable and desiring to move beyond their undeveloped state to be able to realize the American dream. But without help, their dreams will not be realized. Recognizing that we are one, our blackness should serve as the cover big enough to enfold our discomfort and discontent, as we bind the edges with the distinctive fabrics that represent our unique and varied features.

No longer do we have to hand stitch our identity with the tattered rags and scraps left over from cloaks of servitude and slavery, or sew them together with worn and tired fingers blistered from the drudgery of picking cotton. Now we can construct a quality cover sewn with the finest needles and thread on a marvelous machine stitched by the efforts of the hearts of brotherhood.

It is time for black people to wrap ourselves warmly in the mantle of our blackness, proudly edged with the many colors of our attitudes, quality of our souls and feel of our culture. As James Brown penned so long ago and we heartily sang to help us survive the hostilities of the civil rights movement, we should pick up the song again and sing with spirit and dignity, “I’m black and I’m proud.”

I am proud to be me, proud that as a people we have overcome tremendous odds and prospered and proud that we can finally come to terms with the truth that has always existed from arrival in this country. We were brought here with one identity…we were black. That identity still exists today. We are an American group among many American groups, and in both cases, there’s no disputing the  fact that we are one.

Song by Frankie Beverly and Maze.

In a recent article appearing in the Sacramento Bee, dated October 10, 2010, a proposal to remove black children from traditional integrated schools and place them in segregated charter schools has been suggested. This proposal has been made by a black person, Margaret Fortune, who has operated a similar school in Sacramento.

Ms. Fortune suggests that up to 5,000 black children, who are also considered low-income, and beginning with K thru 3rd graders, would benefit from receiving an education in a school set apart from their peers of the same age. To me, this is absurd as this nation has and continues to fight long and hard to diminish and extinguish the ugliness of segregation in all of its stigmatizing forms, in all systems of our society.

To consider returning to the dysfunctional method of segregation in our system of education is not only frightful but downright bizarre. Poor, black children already suffer from two strikes against them. To put them in a situation which sets them apart will not only affect their self-esteem, but may also cause them to suffer the pain of being stigmatized for not attending an integrated school with other children who are different from them.

A great part of one’s education, particularly as access to the global community is opening up to anyone who may chose to explore it, is to be socialized to understand, tolerate and accept the differences between us. How can that be accomplished when one begins their educational experience with only faces of one’s own kind? How can one perceive a different reflection of how the world is made up if one only sees one image, the same as oneself ?

I can understand the intent of providing a more intense educational experience for children, but the effort should be open to all children, not focused on any particular ethnic group. As for the children being low-income, there are low-income children in every ethnic group who need and require a quality education. For a black person to focus this attempt to obtain funding for charter schools by selling out black children is shameful.

If tax-payer money is used to fund charter schools, representative children from every group should be represented. Placing black children in segregated schools is a backward move and should not be considered as being in the best interest of those children.

http://www.sacbee.com/2010/10/10/3093039/former-st-hope-leader-begins-push.html

Much talk is going on about the building of Muslim mosques in various places in the United States. Since the arrival of the founding fathers, the U.S. has been and is predominately a Christian nation politely sharing its religious expression with Judaism. But the possible expansion of Islam and the building of mosques are controversial concepts disturbing to many people.

I stand in a rather unusual position as I do not belong to any organized religion, although I do believe in the existence of God or a power higher than man. I have no stake in the support or advancement of any one’s belief system other than my own as I respect everyone’s right to believe or worship in their own way. Nor am I disturbed about the religious aspects of the various religions, rather it is the cultural behaviors which accompany them that has and does concern me.

For many years, as a student of the sociology and psychology of my fellow humans, and as a black person and descendant of slaves in this country, I have been aware of the responsibility and activities that members of the white Judea/Christian family had and expressed toward my ancestors. Unfortunately, many of those attitudes still exists today in many circles in this country as well as prejudice and racism toward other groups because of race, sexual preference, religion, weight, financial status, etc., etc.

However, in all fairness, there is also much discrimination by Christian blacks against other blacks and minorities, based on their status, as well as animosity toward whites, regardless of whether they are also Christian. So the point I am making is that it is human nature and not professing to belong to a particular sect or group that does or does not prevent or restrain one human being from disrespecting, abusing or misusing another.

There are broad differences in lifestyles and attitudes of many Muslim groups, particularly compared to Jews and Christians. But like Christians, Jews and other religions, there are many peaceful, loving members. Nevertheless, there also exist in all of them very dangerous extremists groups who perpetrate cruel and usual disciplines on their devotees, for example, Jim Jones and the Ayatollah Khomeini.

In the U.S., because of our societal diversity, we have battled long and hard to put laws in place which pretty much separate church and state while guaranteeing personal liberty to worship as one chooses. Those laws will be required to protect the rights of Muslims as well. But will the activities condoned by many Muslims as part of their religious expression, but found objectionable by our legal system, be carried out in the church without direct interference? How will Islam’s traditional observances fit into the mainstream of American life without putting demands on the general population to accommodate Muslim rituals?

When the two cultures collide, the expansion of mosques and Islam will take a great deal of understanding, tolerance, acceptance, compassion and negotiation. I suggest we begin to adjust our thinking now before the first foundation is laid.

Checking new comments on my site regarding my latest blog entitled

“Why the “angry black woman” is angry,”

I received a response from the writer, producer, director, Ted Alexander. His movie, “Diary of a Tired Black Man,” was the subject of the blog. His response was welcome, of course, but his subsequent explanation of what the film was about are worth sharing, particularly with women who may have occasion to watch it.

I am including his response and my reply in their entirety here. After you read my blog, I would like to know if my take on the movie and his response represent two different trains of thought between what was portrayed and what he intended.

If the movie was only about the problem of the main character’s wife, what was the necessity of all the interviews about black women and the conclusion he seemed to draw regarding the “Angry Black Woman Syndrome? Is he suggesting that all black women are born angry and are angry for no “obvious” reason? How did her individual problems become the same problems for the entire group? If black women are different from other women, why were the women of other ethnic groups in the movie angry? Why is infidelity a “non-issue” when it comes to any woman being angry? Why, in general, do men think that infidelity is a “non-issue?”

I’d like to hear anyone’s take on this, regardless of ethnicity or gender. Anger is a serious problem which affects many relationships. I am grateful to Mr. Alexander for making this movie, because it provides a vehicle to openly discuss the subject of anger in women, its cause, its expression, and the results.

Mr. Alexander’s response:

You so missed the point of this film. By a country mile. He was not a cheater, so what was her problem? Her issues started from childhood long before they met. Watch it again. All of those people are not wrong. Anybody is upset if someone cheats – even MEN! Women cheat too. That is not the point. Anger for an obvious reason is obvious. I am talking about unprovoked internal anger issues… Not an obvious and valid reason to be angry like cheating. You don’t get it. Watch it again. And all men do not cheat, as James did not. But many women do. Non-issue in this film.

My rebuttal response:

I imagine it might have been rather difficult to include infidelity in James’ role, as he was not the protagonist, but the way the movie was played out seemed to suggest that although men have very many rules for women and reasons why we’re angry, one of the primary reasons important to women was downplayed and dismissed as comical. And that external reason obviously made me angry.

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.

On January 30, I turned 67. Being 67 gives me a privileged opportunity to look back over a span of many years to see how far, not only have I come, but also how far my fellow human beings have evolved on this earth that we share. 

Behind me are 6 decades, 3 generations, and half a century of changes, tragedies and wonders. And I’ve viewed them all from the perspective of a woman, an American and a black person. Those three are not my only characteristics, but being a black woman in America has always played a particularly affective role in my life. 

In America, the U. S., being black has often over shadowed the other aspects. Try though I might to circumvent my ethnicity and focus on the job or task at hand, I have always been made aware or needed to consider my ethnicity. Having to declare it has become particularly much more worrisome than in past years when it was viewed as either a duty or necessity. But I am wondering what the beneficial reason is for it now? 

We are all in a financial crisis in the world; everyone is feeling the pinch. So what does my color have to do with anything? To me, knowing how hard I’m struggling is a matter of status, and members of the haves or have nots include folks from all ethnic groups. 

At this point, will I receive any extra benefit because I am black, female or American? What will my sex, ethnicity or citizenship provide that the status of human being cannot?

 www.paristompkins.com

www.thefirsttrip.com

Recently my partner and I were discussing possible stereotypical backlash now that our first “Oodleville” children’s book, The First Trip, has been published, and Bubba Oodle, our first character doll, is available. For me, the Oodles’ black color has been the subject of conjecture since I began working to manifest my dream. 

In our conversation, therefore, we talked about ways to address the dolls’ color. We discussed comparing the Oodles to gollywogs who were and still are depictions of black-faced minstrels who were entertainers during the days of slavery. In 1965, however, all caricature depictions of blacks, like gollywogs, were deemed politically incorrect. This action also caused many creative works by blacks to also be exiled to local or near-underground marketing. 

Although gollywogs have been removed from public display, they have been sold for over a hundred years in England, and can still be purchased online and through gollywog clubs in the U.S. The Oodles, however, are not gollywogs, nor do they represent any aspect of minstrels or slavery…other than the fact that I am black and a descendant of slaves. 

My grandmother, Mary Pigues, was born in 1865, the year that slavery was legally abolished. My grandfather, Ben Pigues, who was much older than Grandma was obviously a slave. On my father’s side, the similar situations probably existed. Prior to slavery, I imagine my ancestors being free, happy and enjoying life in Africa. 

“Oodleville” is a similar world, and the Oodles are characters conceived in my heart and mind and created from my imagination. Rather than human, they are human-ess; meaning they possess the best of human values like honesty, caring, compassion, empathy, forgiveness, and commitment. 

They represent my freedom of expression, and are simply playthings for all children, and their color should not determine whether or not they have merit. My mission for Oodleville and the Oodles is to bring fun, friendship, a new perspective, and a unique product by a black person back to the mainstream…to pick up where my people left off.

www.thefirsttrip.com