No matter where you look - high school history books, online U.S. history sites, or even specific gender and ethnic history sources - there is one group that is at the center of all American history, and that group is the white male.
As an experiment, I looked up various gender and ethnic groups online, using various search engines in an attempt to find resources that would inform me of famous or notable historical figures for each grouping. What I found was difficult to stomach. The number of sites that discussed or listed or provided biographical or historical information on white males was nearly ten times that of any other group. Even sites dedicated to specific minority groups provided nowhere near the excess of information as sites dedicated to white males. One particularly startling discovery was that Asian males seemed to represent the amount of lowest available information for any one group. Even one site I visited that boasted itself as a site dedicated to famous Asian men had only four entries.
Whether the group was male, female, African-American, Asian, Hispanic, or Native American, if the group wasn't white male there never seemed to be adequate access to in depth biographical or historical information.
Our history seems to be solely centered on the white male. Whether reading about the conquest of the indigenous peoples who lived here before us, or reading about the "important" figures in "significant" events in our history, the white male dominates all areas. Is it any wonder that there has never been a woman president or that it has taken us until two years ago that we had a president that wasn't a white male? Is it any wonder that our history books are primarily centered on white males with all other groups as figures on the horizon, on the outside looking in? Why has it taken so long for women to gain any level of recognition as deserving of the same rights as men? And what about minority groups? Even today we still see issues of racism and sexism embedded in our laws and social norms. We see imbalance of pay, imbalance of opportunities for advancement, and imbalance of fair treatment by the dominant white male. Is it any wonder that history has brought us here? What of the real history of groups outside the realm of the white male? As my research has shown, the access to any sort of detailed information regarding the history of these marginalized groups is slim to none. White women have perhaps the second most historical information, followed closely by African-American men and then African-American women. Beyond these groups, the disparity is startling. Hispanic, Native American, and Asian men and women only really appear in any relevance when they are shown as they relate to the historical perspectives of white males. Beyond this, there is little else readily available.
Perhaps the only way to explain this censoring of the history of marginalized groups is as a way for white males to control and oppress these groups. If history told the full story or re-centered the story, perhaps there would be more propensity for equality. Perhaps white males would be just another subcategory of America's wealth of ethnic groups. Perhaps many atrocities could have been avoided if white males had not controlled and oppressed and marginalized groups outside of their exclusive club.
A great re-centering needs to take place in order for any levelling of perspective is to occur. Even if the historical information does not exist to do justice to those groups marginalized by those systems controlled by the oppressive regime of white males, history books and school books need to make an effort to re-center our understanding of these groups. Marginalized groups ought not to be mere decorations on the landscape of white male history, but deserve their own adequate representation in history - their history, their perspective.
Questions:
1. What group do you think has received the least coverage in terms of their perspective on American history?
2. What can be done to rectify the marginalizing of these groups?
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Don't Call Me White
Years ago, my grandmother and grandfather on my mother's side took up the hobby of investigating their families' family trees. Because of their digging, I know most of my ancestry. I am fifty-percent English, twenty-five percent German, twenty percent Norwegian, and about five percent Welsh. Despite all of these specific percentages, I really only qualify my ethnic background as "Euro-mutt."
So, how does my heritage influence who I am? Well, until recently, my heritage defined my religion, and my view of other political, social, and religious perspectives. However, mainly because I have taken conscious strides towards becoming an autonomous individual who defines himself by a better understanding of various philosophies and the wisdom and knowledge gained through education about multiculturalism and pluralism, I have tried to separate myself from my own "whiteness" in an attempt to create a holistic identity based on those philosophies and perspectives with which I choose to identify. These variables - philosophy, education, knowledge, and personal awareness - have become more of a determiner of who I am than anything I have learned about my heritage. Primarily because of my desire to move beyond the criteria that has always granted me privilege due to being male and being "white," I have tried to only use my heritage as a road map to guide me in the right direction.
I think because of my skin color, most people can guess that I come from some combination of European lineages. I would also guess that simply being "white" does have a direct effect on how people talk to me and treat me in social settings. I know that I have been unjustly given privilege in society because of my sex and my skin color, and while I wouldn't do anything to change those biological traits, I try very hard to challenge any assumptions or privileges offered me because I am a white male. I'm guessing that strangers aren't usually afraid when I approach them with a question. I'm guessing cashiers don't make assumptions about my economic status, And I'm guessing that I get less looks from police officers than someone of a different race or ethnicity.
On a side note, my sister is adopted. She is African-American. She grew up in the same neighborhood that I did, in the same house I did, and drove down most of the same surrounding streets that I did. However, it seems intolerably unjust that while I never once got pulled over in our neighborhood by the local police, my sister is pulled over on a regular basis. The police usually give her some petty excuse and usually let her go with "warnings," but the inconsistency is there, and it really makes me sick of my own privilege and the desparity of treatment given to my sister simply because of her skin color.
Concluding, I can only say that I wish my heritage had nothing to do with who I am or how I am viewed by the rest of society. I wish that people's ethnic backgrounds were traits that we could only be proud of, not ashamed of or afraid to acknowledge. I wish we could understand and cherish people for their unique perspectives and not shy away from someone because they may look different than us. It is for these reasons that I ask only to be called by my name and by my merits, but never to be called "white."
Questions:
1. If your ancestry is of european lineage, or like mine English lineage, what does knowing about colonialism, slavery, and other such atrocities do to your feelings about being "white"?
2. How can we come to terms with the unwarranted privilege granted to "white" men (primarily) as well as women?
(For further reflection, I would refer you to the song, "Don't Call Me White" by NOFX)
So, how does my heritage influence who I am? Well, until recently, my heritage defined my religion, and my view of other political, social, and religious perspectives. However, mainly because I have taken conscious strides towards becoming an autonomous individual who defines himself by a better understanding of various philosophies and the wisdom and knowledge gained through education about multiculturalism and pluralism, I have tried to separate myself from my own "whiteness" in an attempt to create a holistic identity based on those philosophies and perspectives with which I choose to identify. These variables - philosophy, education, knowledge, and personal awareness - have become more of a determiner of who I am than anything I have learned about my heritage. Primarily because of my desire to move beyond the criteria that has always granted me privilege due to being male and being "white," I have tried to only use my heritage as a road map to guide me in the right direction.
I think because of my skin color, most people can guess that I come from some combination of European lineages. I would also guess that simply being "white" does have a direct effect on how people talk to me and treat me in social settings. I know that I have been unjustly given privilege in society because of my sex and my skin color, and while I wouldn't do anything to change those biological traits, I try very hard to challenge any assumptions or privileges offered me because I am a white male. I'm guessing that strangers aren't usually afraid when I approach them with a question. I'm guessing cashiers don't make assumptions about my economic status, And I'm guessing that I get less looks from police officers than someone of a different race or ethnicity.
On a side note, my sister is adopted. She is African-American. She grew up in the same neighborhood that I did, in the same house I did, and drove down most of the same surrounding streets that I did. However, it seems intolerably unjust that while I never once got pulled over in our neighborhood by the local police, my sister is pulled over on a regular basis. The police usually give her some petty excuse and usually let her go with "warnings," but the inconsistency is there, and it really makes me sick of my own privilege and the desparity of treatment given to my sister simply because of her skin color.
Concluding, I can only say that I wish my heritage had nothing to do with who I am or how I am viewed by the rest of society. I wish that people's ethnic backgrounds were traits that we could only be proud of, not ashamed of or afraid to acknowledge. I wish we could understand and cherish people for their unique perspectives and not shy away from someone because they may look different than us. It is for these reasons that I ask only to be called by my name and by my merits, but never to be called "white."
Questions:
1. If your ancestry is of european lineage, or like mine English lineage, what does knowing about colonialism, slavery, and other such atrocities do to your feelings about being "white"?
2. How can we come to terms with the unwarranted privilege granted to "white" men (primarily) as well as women?
(For further reflection, I would refer you to the song, "Don't Call Me White" by NOFX)
Yo Quiero Personal Space
I sat down at a table in the dining area of Taco Bell. I probably can count the number of times I've eaten inside a Taco Bell on one hand, so the experience would be a perfect opportunity for me to observe my fellow patrons. I didn't know exactly how many people would filter through the doors just past the noon hour, but I figured I'd observe enough people to write a brief blog about my experience. Boy, was that the understatement of the year.
After finishing my Seven Layer Burrito, I slowly sipped on my fountain drink, watching just over the top of my notebook like a rookie private investigator who can't help but be noticed. I listened as a team of construction workers - all white men - talked about various camping trip experiences. Their volume was exaggerated, just as were their hand movements. A Hispanic mother and daughter sat down at the booth across from me, maintaining much lower tones in their quiet conversation than the boisterous construction workers. The construction workers left, and for a few minutes the Taco Bell dining area was quiet...
Quiet, as if foreshadowing an approaching storm.
I refilled my fountain drink and returned to my seat. I hadn't even settled into my seat when a raucous cacophony of teenage voices poured in through the doorway as a busload of high schoolers accosted the weaving maze leading up to the front counter. I could barely contain myself. Jackpot! As the stream of students continued to pour in through the doors, I scribbled frantically in my notebook, still trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Personal spaces were violated as bodies packed into the lunch line. Conversations loudened as multiple conversations battled for priority and supremacy. Lines were crossed in that maze of metal hand rails that would normally create distance in almost any other setting. As I watched the teenagers filter through the line, I wondered what would happen if an outsider tried to infiltrate the same personal space. Would a random stranger be given the same leiniency as friends and chaperones? Probably not. Would a stranger even feel comfortable pinned in close proximity with people who were in turn strangers to him/her? Probably not. Yet, as the maze to the front counter grew more and more jammed with bodies, my suppositions were challenged.
Enter a family of three: a mother and her two children. With barely enough room to squeeze through the front door, the family squished in with the swarm of teenagers and chaperones.
Then a funny thing happened. As if triggered by the lack of personal space, these complete strangers began talking and laughing, carrying on as if they had been friends for years.
Could it be that our personal space has been the great divider, the thick, transparent outer skin separating us from our true inner socialite? Could it be that with personal space gone, as evinced by this experience, strangers seem to loosen up, to feel almost a greater level of comfort with those within our close proximity?
Perhaps the rules of personal space are nothing more than rules we want in place to keep others at a distance. Perhaps the rules of personal space are voided when standing in line at a fast food restaurant. Perhaps the forbidden behavior within the contexts of the fast food line is then the rules we cherish so much in normal settings. Would people complain if we gave each other the same personal space in a fast food line that we would on a sidewalk? Would the line stretch back through the front doors and into the parking lot if we alotted three feet of space between us and the person in front of us?
But, maybe the ability to feel comfortable within the contexts of personal space violation is not the case for everyone. Maybe violation of personal space is only acceptable to those that are already sociable people. I know I for one cringe when people stand too close to me, much less try starting up a conversation. Additionally, perhaps the level of personal space we are willing to give up varies depending on the situation, or the person. If someone smells funny, or is dressed weird, or if they are the only other person in line, our liberty with their and our personal space would most likely differ.
And what of our vocal personal space? Is it okay to be loud and boisterous with other people in the vicinity, like the construction workers? Or does fast food dining room etiquette ask for vocal personal space while forfeiting physical personal space?
Perhaps these revelations regarding fast food personal space are, in fact, relative to each circumstance. Whatever the case may be, I know that my unique experience observing this Taco Bell lunch hour was an eye opening experience and has brought up some interesting questions.
So, what is your level of personal space?
Does it differ depending on the circumstances?
Are you comfortable giving up your personal space?
What do you feel are the rules for vocal personal space?
After finishing my Seven Layer Burrito, I slowly sipped on my fountain drink, watching just over the top of my notebook like a rookie private investigator who can't help but be noticed. I listened as a team of construction workers - all white men - talked about various camping trip experiences. Their volume was exaggerated, just as were their hand movements. A Hispanic mother and daughter sat down at the booth across from me, maintaining much lower tones in their quiet conversation than the boisterous construction workers. The construction workers left, and for a few minutes the Taco Bell dining area was quiet...
Quiet, as if foreshadowing an approaching storm.
I refilled my fountain drink and returned to my seat. I hadn't even settled into my seat when a raucous cacophony of teenage voices poured in through the doorway as a busload of high schoolers accosted the weaving maze leading up to the front counter. I could barely contain myself. Jackpot! As the stream of students continued to pour in through the doors, I scribbled frantically in my notebook, still trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Personal spaces were violated as bodies packed into the lunch line. Conversations loudened as multiple conversations battled for priority and supremacy. Lines were crossed in that maze of metal hand rails that would normally create distance in almost any other setting. As I watched the teenagers filter through the line, I wondered what would happen if an outsider tried to infiltrate the same personal space. Would a random stranger be given the same leiniency as friends and chaperones? Probably not. Would a stranger even feel comfortable pinned in close proximity with people who were in turn strangers to him/her? Probably not. Yet, as the maze to the front counter grew more and more jammed with bodies, my suppositions were challenged.
Enter a family of three: a mother and her two children. With barely enough room to squeeze through the front door, the family squished in with the swarm of teenagers and chaperones.
Then a funny thing happened. As if triggered by the lack of personal space, these complete strangers began talking and laughing, carrying on as if they had been friends for years.
Could it be that our personal space has been the great divider, the thick, transparent outer skin separating us from our true inner socialite? Could it be that with personal space gone, as evinced by this experience, strangers seem to loosen up, to feel almost a greater level of comfort with those within our close proximity?
Perhaps the rules of personal space are nothing more than rules we want in place to keep others at a distance. Perhaps the rules of personal space are voided when standing in line at a fast food restaurant. Perhaps the forbidden behavior within the contexts of the fast food line is then the rules we cherish so much in normal settings. Would people complain if we gave each other the same personal space in a fast food line that we would on a sidewalk? Would the line stretch back through the front doors and into the parking lot if we alotted three feet of space between us and the person in front of us?
But, maybe the ability to feel comfortable within the contexts of personal space violation is not the case for everyone. Maybe violation of personal space is only acceptable to those that are already sociable people. I know I for one cringe when people stand too close to me, much less try starting up a conversation. Additionally, perhaps the level of personal space we are willing to give up varies depending on the situation, or the person. If someone smells funny, or is dressed weird, or if they are the only other person in line, our liberty with their and our personal space would most likely differ.
And what of our vocal personal space? Is it okay to be loud and boisterous with other people in the vicinity, like the construction workers? Or does fast food dining room etiquette ask for vocal personal space while forfeiting physical personal space?
Perhaps these revelations regarding fast food personal space are, in fact, relative to each circumstance. Whatever the case may be, I know that my unique experience observing this Taco Bell lunch hour was an eye opening experience and has brought up some interesting questions.
So, what is your level of personal space?
Does it differ depending on the circumstances?
Are you comfortable giving up your personal space?
What do you feel are the rules for vocal personal space?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The Immigration Experience in "Far and Away"
In the movie, "Far and Away," starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, the viewer is taken on a journey through the hardships faced by two different Irish immigrants. Joseph Donelly (Cruise) is the son of a tenant farmer whose landlord kicks their family off of their land after they fail to pay their rent for several months. After trying to kill the landlord and failing, Joseph flees to America with the landlord's daughter, Shannon Christie (Kidman). This movie provides a deep analysis of the struggles facing immigrants both in their homeland and in America, depicted through the story of Joseph and Shannon.
Perhaps the most interesting study pertaining to reasons for leaving Ireland is seen through the character of Shannon. Shannon is a member of the Irish aristocracy, and her reasons for going to America seem sparked by the idea of the American Dream. She thinks that America is going to be this big adventure with no drawbacks, a land where land is free and she can be whoever she wants to be. Because of the imminent threat of execution hanging over Joseph's head, he goes along with her, but he never really seems caught up in the idealization of America in the same way as Shannon. This eludes to a class disparity between the two, as Joseph has lived a hard life filled with struggle and disappointment, whereas Shannon has always had everything given to her on a silver platter. Ultimately, it is Joseph who lands on his feet most firmly when they arrive in America, although difficulties seem to plague both Joseph and Shannon at every turn.
Challenges confront Joseph in the form of Kelly, his boxing manager. Kelly sees in Joseph an opportunity to exploit a fresh-off-the-boat immigrant, and takes him under his wing, claiming some kind of alliance with Joseph due to their shared Irish homeland. Ultimately, Kelly throws Joseph into the streets like so much garbage when his usefulness has expired, showing that even Joseph may have had misconceptions about the American Dream.
The challenges confronting Shannon are multiple. First, Shannon is immediately taken advantage of by a supposed friend who steals her silver spoons before being shot by street thugs. This seems to be the disillusionment that starts to open Shannon's eyes. Secondly, Shannon is so used to the life of an aristocrat that she struggles to provide for herself, evinced by her disrespect for her crude boss at the chicken factory. She gives up three days of wages just to insult him, which seems something only a person used to having endless resources would do.
Ultimately, the movie's portrayal of the struggles of two immigrants from two entirely different economic backgrounds provides an excellent study of issues of power struggles between classes. Whether by looking through the eyes of Joseph the tenant farmer or Shannon the aristocrat, the viewer is informed of the various trials faced by either economic class as they make their way to and through America. "Far and Away" tells the story of just how different of a land America is, and offers a strong case for the disillusionment of the American Dream.
What did you think was the biggest issue of class struggle in the film?
In what ways did Shannon transform as a character from the beginning of the film to the end?
Perhaps the most interesting study pertaining to reasons for leaving Ireland is seen through the character of Shannon. Shannon is a member of the Irish aristocracy, and her reasons for going to America seem sparked by the idea of the American Dream. She thinks that America is going to be this big adventure with no drawbacks, a land where land is free and she can be whoever she wants to be. Because of the imminent threat of execution hanging over Joseph's head, he goes along with her, but he never really seems caught up in the idealization of America in the same way as Shannon. This eludes to a class disparity between the two, as Joseph has lived a hard life filled with struggle and disappointment, whereas Shannon has always had everything given to her on a silver platter. Ultimately, it is Joseph who lands on his feet most firmly when they arrive in America, although difficulties seem to plague both Joseph and Shannon at every turn.
Challenges confront Joseph in the form of Kelly, his boxing manager. Kelly sees in Joseph an opportunity to exploit a fresh-off-the-boat immigrant, and takes him under his wing, claiming some kind of alliance with Joseph due to their shared Irish homeland. Ultimately, Kelly throws Joseph into the streets like so much garbage when his usefulness has expired, showing that even Joseph may have had misconceptions about the American Dream.
The challenges confronting Shannon are multiple. First, Shannon is immediately taken advantage of by a supposed friend who steals her silver spoons before being shot by street thugs. This seems to be the disillusionment that starts to open Shannon's eyes. Secondly, Shannon is so used to the life of an aristocrat that she struggles to provide for herself, evinced by her disrespect for her crude boss at the chicken factory. She gives up three days of wages just to insult him, which seems something only a person used to having endless resources would do.
Ultimately, the movie's portrayal of the struggles of two immigrants from two entirely different economic backgrounds provides an excellent study of issues of power struggles between classes. Whether by looking through the eyes of Joseph the tenant farmer or Shannon the aristocrat, the viewer is informed of the various trials faced by either economic class as they make their way to and through America. "Far and Away" tells the story of just how different of a land America is, and offers a strong case for the disillusionment of the American Dream.
What did you think was the biggest issue of class struggle in the film?
In what ways did Shannon transform as a character from the beginning of the film to the end?
Monday, May 24, 2010
Two Truths and a Lie
Here are three statements about myself. Two are true, and one is false. Can you guess which one doesn't belong?
1. I don't eat mammals.
2. I am taller than all of my siblings.
3. I was the lead singer of a metal band for eight years.
So, which one is false? Best of luck!
1. I don't eat mammals.
2. I am taller than all of my siblings.
3. I was the lead singer of a metal band for eight years.
So, which one is false? Best of luck!
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