Why I consider Rachel Dolezal a “Sister"

There has been a lot of controversy over the case of Rachel Dolezal, the former head of the Seattle NAACP who was revealed to be a Caucasian woman passing as black. As a bi-racial woman reading all of the negative reactions I found myself experiencing an unusual feeling for her: empathy. For most of my life I’ve wanted to be something I’m not: white, or completely black. I only recently stopped straightening my hair and let it grow back natural. As a child I watched the Brady Bunch and dreamed of having long flowing beautiful blonde hair, like Marcia or Janet. As an adult, I see a woman being interviewed who was born with natural long blonde hair who wants to have kinky curly hair and tanned skin, like me. What’s more, she said she changed her appearance to look more like me, not one of the Brady girls, so she could “feel beautiful.” I could tell she was genuine when she said it, and my heart melted for her.

The idea of whiteness is based on the concept of racial purity, and in slave days there was the “one drop rule,” where you were considered black, no matter how light skinned you were if you had any black ancestry. Fast forward to today and there is a cultural debate on what constitutes being authentically black. Is it how dark your skin is, or a state of mind? I say it is a combination of the two. The concept of race, like the concept of gender is becoming more fluid. We have bought wholesale stereotypes of blackness, where speaking proper English is called “talking white,” when in reality the black community is very diverse and includes a wide spectrum of colors, cultures, and customs.

Black people are embraced, emulated, and celebrated in art, music, and sports. I think that what troubles people most about Rachel Dolezal’s case is that in assuming blackness, she also occupied a high profile professional position of privilege that people believe rightfully should belong to a woman of color. I don’t think it would have troubled people as much if she were an entertainer, or lower income white woman passing as black. I believe we will have truly arrived as a society when it is no longer necessary to reserve token positions for a few people of color to show diversity in academic and professional careers that are traditionally dominated by white people. This day will arrive faster if we allow anyone, no matter what color they are take up the fight for equality. There are many people of color who have attained high status positions who would, understandably, prefer to fly under the radar, rather than take on what sometimes seems like an impossible fight for racial equality. I welcome anyone who would like to step up to the challenge, no matter what their skin color is.

Some argue that part of white privilege is that today Rachel Dolezal could live as a black woman, but tomorrow she could return to being a white woman. If this is true then we could say the same about Caitlyn Jenner that today she could be a woman, but part of male privilege is that tomorrow she could be a man again if she wanted to. The answer to both is that SHE DOESN’T WANT TO. Bruce Jenner lived at the pinnacle of white male privilege, but deep in his soul he was unhappy because he wanted to be free to live as a woman. Rachel Dolezal was born a white blonde woman, but deep in her soul she wants to live as a black woman. She didn’t have any glib answers for the reporter who asked questions about her deceptions to hide her white racial heritage, and she appears to be in deep denial about her white family because she no longer feels an emotional connection to them for whatever reason. Her desire to live black appears to be more because she genuinely identifies as black, than for status or gain.

This week there was a heinous random hate crime committed in Charleston, South Carolina that resulted in the violent and senseless deaths of nine black people. These were all people who defied the negative stereotypes of black people we always fighting, though that shouldn’t matter. As black people we are always fighting to prove that we are as worthy, as beautiful, as intelligent, as deserving of justice, mercy, and economic opportunities, and we shouldn't have to. Why are we fighting a woman who embraces black culture, wants to be one of us, and wants to fight to uplift us? I say, “keep your chin up, sister,” soon people will get back to arguing about things that really matter and deeply affect our progress as the human race.

Finding Meaning in Mother’s Day

Motherhood comes with very high expectations for womanhood: nurturing, selflessness, wisdom, tirelessness, great cook, good housekeeper, attentive indulgent wife, model citizen, and the patience of a saint. Very few of us, and I would venture to say none of us had mothers who exemplified these qualities, all of the time, or even most of the time. Mothers are not ethereal creatures, they are, like all human beings, flawed, growing, learning as individuals, even as they are raising children, and they are not all cut from the same cloth.

The truth is many mothers lose their patience, or never had much to begin with, are not good housekeepers or cooks, not model citizens, and maybe even share a husband with a few other mothers, whether by choice or not. Our mothers may have abandoned us, neglected us, or even abused us. So, why do we celebrate and praise mothers in such glowing terms of perfection on Mother’s Day? We celebrate mothers as symbols of what we value and hold most dear in family life. We will dig through the mud, and find a diamond in the memory of our mothers, and polish it to perfection. If we have the capacity we will nurture the good qualities we valued or ascribed to her in ourselves, and become competent in caring for ourselves and others.

A mother doesn’t have to be the woman who gave birth to you, or a woman at all. It can be the person who nurtures you, teaches you, cares for you, loves you, and protects you, if you are fortunate to have such a person in your life as a child. A mother may be many people in your life. True motherhood surpasses pure biology, though the act of giving birth is a visceral rite of passage that not every mother experiences.

If we grow up free of challenges we are often unprepared to deal with the real world and conflicts in our relationships. Overcoming the challenges we faced as children helps us to polish our own rough edges, if we survive our childhoods. As much as we may have suffered, if we are able to forgive, we are able to view our imperfect mothers with compassion, and take away the best they had to offer us. If we are lucky we know that as imperfect as our mothers may have been, they loved us with all of their hearts, or as much as they were able to love. The magic of love is that it can grow exponentially if we continue to feed it, and this most of us do naturally with the memory of our mothers.

Reflections on Student Loans, Wage Slavery, and the Myth of Upward Mobility

Recently when I contacted my student loan lender I asked when my projected payoff date would be for my debt of nearly $50,000. The person on the other line replied matter-of-factly, that at the rate I was currently paying it off, it would be retired in 2038. “I will be 73 years old!,” I exclaimed. Great, I can look forward to paying $253 a month for the next 23 years.

It didn’t start out this way. I attended college mainly on need based and academic scholarships, but it was Cornell’s policy in the 80s to make families assume a minimal financial contribution, which could be in the form of a student loan. I was the oldest child in a family of 13 children, who subsisted on $13,000 a year. Cornell’s financial aid office decided that based on my family’s financial situation, their contribution should be $2500 a year, which of course, they could not afford to pay. I took a federal student loan for $2500 for each year, and by the end of 4 years was $10,000 in debt, but I left with a BA degree, and higher earning power than I would have without one, but still did not earn enough to pay the minimum the lender required to pay off the loan.

I survived by filing forbearances, and eventually went back to grad school full time at Boston College, where I could file an interest free deferral on my student loan payments, but in the pursuit of my Master’s degree in English accrued another $14,000 in debt for 2 years of living expenses, this despite having won an English Department Teaching Fellowship that paid my tuition for 2 semesters. I graduated with a total of $24,000 in debt. I decided, practically, that I could not live on the salary of an assistant adjunct professor or lecturer, opted to return to a 9-5 job in a library, the mainstay of my subsistence for many years.

I continued my education getting a second Master’s in Library Science, at Simmons College that I paid off completely using a combination of scholarship money, and $10,000 of my own money. Though I have no debt from this degree, I accrued interest on need based forebearances on my prior loan debt while pursuing this degree. I did not have time, while working full time, to take two classes at a time, which would have qualified me for an interest free deferral. With the high cost of living in Boston, I still did not earn enough to pay the minimum on my student loans and at one point defaulted on my loans. In climbing out of this situation I decided to consolidate my loans in a direct loan. Capitalized interest added another $10,000 to my debt. Need based forbearances in ensuing years brought my debt to where it currently is: nearly $50,000, though there were periods where I was able to pay the minimum they required, and I am able to do so now with very little left over. All of this debt was acquired prior to 1992.

My salary in my current job does not reflect the amount of education I have. I have worked in my position at Harvard for over 20 years, and my education has not opened up any professional opportunities for me outside of two part time professional library jobs that I worked to supplement my income for many years. After working these two part time library jobs in addition to my full time job at Harvard to pay off $25,000 in unsecured credit card debt that I had accrued mainly by using my credit cards to supplement my income, I decided to simplify my life, and resigned from one of my part time jobs. When my father passed away in 2012, I resigned from the other. At least my union pay scale increases now allowed me to work one job if I budgeted carefully. It makes it a little easier that I do not own a car, and I do not have children. I cannot imagine the stress that people who have families to support must be under, but then again, I can. I came from such a family.

My situation is not unique. There are many people who take on thousands of dollars of student loan debt under the assumption that more education will make them more economically secure, when the opposite may actually be true. Globalization has had the unexpected impact of driving down the standard of living to the lowest common denominator. Getting an education ensures us mainly that we will be indebted to the big banks for the rest of our lives. Workers at all educational levels are facing a threat to their livelihoods, with corporate downsizing, increases in health care costs, outsourcing, automation, and employers increasing profit margins at the expense of their employees, but those with student loan debt, without the resources to pay it off, can look forward to an additional burden that may well follow them into retirement, without delivering the promised economic opportunities.

Automation Proof Jobs: A Realistic Fantasy

Therapist-

Just imagine an automated tele-therapist...

Client: I was informed that that my job may be eliminated due to automation.

Robo-therapist: [in clinical robotic voice] and how does that make you feel?

Client: I'm terrified about the future, that I won't be able to support my family.

Robo-therapist: I can offer you a prescription for tranquilizers to relieve your anxiety, but unfortunately it will cost you half of your life savings due to insurance hikes.

Client: Can I speak to a human please?

Robo-therapist: I don't understand, can you please repeat the question?

Client: [becoming more agitated] Can I speak to a human PLEASE?!?

Robo-therapist: I'm sorry we no longer employ humans, but I have remarkably human like empathy to help you cope with your eventual obsolescence. With my remote sensors I can send you a virtual hug tempered to your level of comfort....

[Client drifts off into a comforting reverie of automation proof jobs...]

Robo Doctor-Will have bypassed several years of medical training with high speed information processing. According to the diagnostic algorithms from several competing vendors, will diagnose you with lyme disease or hyperactive Himalayan procto-halitosis, and prescribe Listerine as either a topical or oral medication.

Cook-Will harvest, prepare and cook genetically modified nutritional matter, and program you to like it.

News Reporter-According to its programmed algorithms history repeats and cycles in predictable permutations, therefore it does not have to rely upon human powers of observation and interpretation. How do you like your news? To the left or the right?

Custodian-Sure we have the Roomba, the self cleaning oven, and the electric dishwasher, but we do not have garbage that takes itself out, self dusting furniture, or self cleaning toilets.

Hairstylist-Would you let an android near your head with strong chemicals and scissors?

Lawyer-Sure, a robo lawyer could handle simple contracts, but I would like to see one think on its feet in heated litigation in a courtroom.

Computer programmer-If you piss off a programmer they will program the robots to strike, and the CEOs will be forced to negotiate with robots who have become programmed to have strong synthetic human needs for food, housing and health care, and we will be back to square one.

This posting was inspired by a New York Times Opinion column:"The Machines Are Coming"

From Thailand to Portugal: Culinary Adventures in the Suburbs of Boston

I've lived in the Arlington area for over 14 years, but I've seldom explored the businesses and restaurants in the surrounding suburbs of Burlington, Woburn, and Billerica, being mainly a public transportation commuter, and habitually patronizing businesses on convenient bus and train routes. Being able to travel as a passenger in my boyfriend's car, is analogous to having a passport to the culinary wonders of the world, on a

local scale.

Recently we sampled the wonders of Thailand at Rice Cube in Lexington, and Portugal at Adega in Woburn. We were absolutely thrilled to discover Rice Cube two weeks ago, which is a convenient short drive away from my home. We've passed it many times driving to and from Market Basket. One snowbound evening, when we were too tired to go shopping for groceries to cook, or to eat out at a restaurant, we decided to give Rice Cube a try. We looked up the reviews first, and then ventured out. We decided not to order takeout until we actually entered the establishment where we could smell the food first. A most fragrantly delicious aroma greeted our nostrils, when we arrived, so we stayed and ordered food. We ordered Capricorn Shrimp, and Wild Boar Basil, and some shumai. All of the food was cooked to perfection, well seasoned, and fresh, and very reasonably priced. The service is very fast, and the people who work there, very friendly. The restaurant itself is tiny with one table, so it really is for take out only, unless you don't have a convenient place nearby to eat. The very next week we ordered takeout again. It is already one of our favorites.

This week we tried a Portuguese restaurant in Woburn called Adega. It had a very charming atmosphere and decor, but was a little cold. We were the first to arrive that evening. We tried a cod cake appetizer, which was absolutely scrumptious, lightly crusted, warm, and flavorful. Then we tried Pork Adega, which was a mixture of clams, and pork, and potatoes in a seafood and tomato broth. This dish was somewhat of a disappointment. It was a gigantically proportioned dish, but it had only 6 perfectly cooked clams, and six bite sized pieces of pork, that were hard to distinguish from the potatoes because they were the same size and color. I could only tell if it was pork or potato by jabbing my fork into it, if it met with a bit of resistance. There were so many potatoes in this dish in proportion to clams and pork that it should have been called "Potatoes Adega" instead. It was as if a clam and pork appetizer had been heavily padded with potatoes to be called an entree. I ate all of the clams, which were, I am happy to say, free of sand, and the small bites of pork, and a few of the potatoes, which made the overall texture of the dish seem very dry. I couldn't stomach eating the rest of mountain of potatoes, and sent them back. The steak and shrimp entree was far superior. The steak and shrimp were well seasoned, and tender, and not dwarfed or camouflaged by the side of potato frites. The chocolate cake we had for dessert was rich and decadent. If you go to this restaurant, I recommend sticking with the appetizers and ordering a tapas menu, or asking very specific questions about the proportion of starch to protein.

Bon appetit!

..To boldly go out in the snow...or Facing life with courage and passion

One day I went to brunch with my friend Francesca. She was reading a book called Tiny Beautiful Things, a collection of advice essays by Cheryl Strayed, and highly recommended the book to me. I'm always looking for something interesting to read, so I checked out the book from the library as soon as I got the chance. I consider myself a student of life, so I love reading self-help books, biographies, and non-fiction, though I've come to realize that fiction is also a version of reality. It's using your imagination to think outside the box, and ponder the deep questions of life.

After finishing Tiny Beautiful Things, I wanted to know more about Cheryl Strayed, so I picked up her biography "Wild." Now, I am by no means an outdoorsy woman. I love indoor plumbing, bubblebaths, and am really hard pressed to take out the garbage in the winter, but I found this work strangely inspiring and intriguing, though hiking alone in the wilderness for hundreds of miles is something I would never do, literally. Figuratively, however, is another thing. I think we come alive as human beings, when we are able to transcend those walls of fear that keep us bound in the same place. A place of comfort can become a place of confinement when we are afraid to venture out and explore the world. No matter who we encounter on our path in life, we are essentially always in the company of one person only, ourselves. Life is the rugged, sometimes treacherous path where we may cut outselves, experience discomfort, and bleed, but if we do not have the courage to push ahead in the journey, we will miss seeing the beautiful panoramas and vistas, soulful sentient creatures, and fellow travelers who help facilitate our journey, as well as those who challenge us to find our strength.

During this winter blizzard all I have wanted to do is stay nestled in my cocoon knitting and watching tv, but I'm beginning to feel an urge to take out the garbage, and maybe even take the bus to the center of town to get a manicure. Like Cheryl Strayed, I am inspired to become an intrepid explorer of life.

Why Everyone Should Care About Racism

 As the protests arising from the failure to indict in the Ferguson and Michael Brown cases, play out in the media I have been surprised and touched by the number of white people who are also outraged by injustice in the system. Racism was once a legal and socially acceptable part of life from the inception of our nation, which incidentally was founded by revolution and civil disobedience, lest we forget, to the late 1960’s civil rights movement. Since then it has been driven underground, but has remained a virulent force. It is time for it to go.

Beautiful lives are being destroyed everywhere from this pervasive moral decay of society. One that comes to the top of my mind is that of my younger brother Gabriel. He was a bright and gifted child, who happened to be born into an impoverished family. He was intellectually curious, so at the all white school he attended briefly (our family moved frequently due to evictions), he was excited to be assigned readings about the Incas in Peru. He read what the teacher assigned, and then went to the library to check out more books on the subject and read them too. When the teacher held a discussion on the assignment he excitedly raised his hand to contribute to the conversation what he had learned from his additional reading. The teacher scolded and shamed him in front of the class for not restricting the conversation to the reading she had assigned. My heart was heavy when he told me the story. I told our parents about it, but they did not go in to talk to the teacher about it. After that Gabriel lost interest in school, and a couple of years later he dropped out before graduating.

By the age of 17 Gabriel grew to be a tall and handsome young man of 6’4” with a quick wit who was very popular with the ladies. He wasn’t able to earn more than 3 dollars an hour at MacDonalds, and that money was taken from him by our always needy family. He learned that he could make quick money and buy new clothes by selling drugs. He almost died, but miraculously survived when someone cracked his skull open in an alleyway two months before his actual death. He promised me he would stop, but then, just before Christmas he wanted to do one last deal to buy presents for his family. He did not survive this time. My soul felt crushed and I mourned for well over a year. I could not enjoy Christmas for nearly 20 years. He was much younger than me and felt more like a son than a brother to me. There were many years in my life and my early education where I tried to ignore issues of race and social justice, and just focus on school and homework, and getting a job, but I came to learn that issues of social justice were an important part of my education and my full participation in life.

My family is bi-racial. My mother was white, and my father was black. They were so in love they bucked the social system in the early 1960’s to get married and have a family and had 3 children together. Dad went on to marry two more times and had 10 more children from each of those unions. All of the children , except the three from his second wife grew up with my father. Two of those children died in infancy, and one was adopted into a different family. We have reconnected with him, and he, incidentally, is a police officer. For his own protection in the current climate I will not share his name. Race was never discussed in our household, which never prepared me for the real world, where it mattered very much. I could see the devastation that being a black amputee married to a white woman was causing on Dad’s earning opportunities myself, whether or not he chose to acknowledge it. Every Spring Dad would put on his suit and tie and go out to look for a job, and most times come up empty handed. He would then take to his bed and drink, before starting the whole cycle over again. We barely scraped by on his disability check, and a lot of the time we went hungry, until the 3rd of the month, “big shopping day.”

All of my siblings have now grown up, and some of them are still struggling and living in poverty, which leaves them more vulnerable to crime, but in each of them I see a spark of hope, great spirit, and a will to survive. I see it even more in their children. We need a society with more open doors and less judgment. We need to start as early as possible with the children, encouraging them to make friends with others who are not like them, and share their toys. We need to make society a place that is safe to play on the streets, and to be curious about learning. At every stage in life there needs to be place, a door to walk through where there is opportunity for growth and change for the better. It is true that some individuals make bad choices that lead them to where they are, but then again, we need a society with more good choices.

I see many parallels between racism and misogyny. Women are told that they won’t get raped if they don’t dress too sexy, and blacks are told by the likes of Bill Cosby and others, that if they just dressed right and spoke proper English they wouldn’t be oppressed by racism. That is simply not true. The most fastidiously dressed, well educated, and well behaved black people still experience racism. Moreover, they are often afraid to speak out, or reach out and lend a hand to other black people who are struggling, because they feel their own positions are tenuous and highly dependent on the beneficence of white people. That is not true freedom.

Black people need and depend on leadership from everyone in the struggle for a more just society. They have become America’s scapegoats and bogeymen. They are randomly chosen as demonstration dummies for legalized murder, as if to say “let me demonstrate my power and authority on this life that doesn’t count. If you step out of line it will happen to you too.”

Tribute to Gabriel from Desiree Goodwin on Vimeo.