Friday, May 19, 2006

The Race Thing: Part Three

Engaging in Dialogue
As I’ve mentioned in Part Two, I’m very glad that I’ve broached this subject because good is definitely coming from it. I have engaged in a bit of dialogue via email with other readers about The Race Thing, and I may cite snippets in a future post.

Does the Concept of Race Have a Biological Basis?
After pondering over things connected with The Race Thing, I was suddenly reminded of a class I took as an elective, Anthropology 100. It was a pretty cool class; we had guest lecturers that specialized in a certain area of anthropology each week. One day, I sat in wonder as our lecturer totally debunked the very concept of race. He concluded by stating that race is a socio-political construct rather than a scientific one, and that the concept of race has no biological basis.

I had to chew on that one awhile before I even attempted to swallow it, but after mulling it over a bit, a little light bulb came on, and the realization flooded over me that Dr. Guest Lecturer was right.

Now, I’m not an anthropologist, so perhaps I’m not the best person to explain this in a light bulb-brightening way, but once I grasped it, it just made a world of sense to me. I’ll cite from the transcript of an interview with Alan Goodman, a professor of biological anthropology at Hampshire College from a PBS series entitled “Race: The Power of an Illusion” to explain:

What’s Wrong With Classifying by Race as Biology?
Scientists have actually been saying for quite a while that race, as biology, doesn't exist - that there's no biological basis for race. And that is in the facts of biology, the facts of non-concordance, the facts of continuous variation, the recentness of our evolution, the way that we all commingle and come together, how genes flow, and perhaps especially in the fact that most variation occurs within race versus between races or among races, suggesting that there's no generalizability to race. There is no center there; there is no there there in the center. It's fluid.

But many individuals will say, "Well, that's okay, at least it's an approximation. It at least gives us a way to classify. Hey, you know, our head size may be continuous and shoe size may be continuous, but we developed a way to classify people by hat size and shoe size. And it kind of works. Your shoe may be a little bit crunchy but you basically know to go in and start somewhere, So what's wrong with doing it for race?"

And I'll tell you, there's a couple things that are wrong with it, where that analogy really breaks down. We've developed a universal system for thinking about hat size that's measurable, for example. So you can go into Sao Paulo Brazil and the hat merchants there have the same scale that the hat merchants do in Cambridge, Massachusetts. And we can have universality because it's objective, it's measurable, we're just measuring the circumference around the head. It doesn't change culturally from one place to another. But think about race and its universality or lack thereof. Where is your measurement device? There is no way to measure race first. We sometimes do it by skin color. Other people may do it by hair texture. Other people may have the dividing lines different in terms of skin color. What's black in the United States is not what's black in Brazil or what's black in South Africa. What was black in 1940 is different from what is black in 2000. Certainly, with the evolution of whiteness, what was white in 1920 - as a Jew I was not white then, but I'm white now, so white has changed tremendously.

There's no stability and constancy. That's life. That's fine as social ideas go, that we all have our individual classification systems and may use them, but for science, it's death. It does not work. Science is based on generalizability, it's based on consistency, it's based on reproducibility. If you have none of that, you have junk science [ . . .]

Racism rests in part on the idea that race is biology; it is based on biology. So, the biology becomes an excuse for social differences. The social differences become naturalized in biology. It's not that our institutions cause differences in mortality; it's that there really are biological differences between the races. [In the last sentence, Goodman is giving an example of how some would try to justify differences in mortality rates by using the faulty biological explanation of race.]

So, until we address that there is no race in biology, that race is an idea that we ascribe to biology, that there's no race there, there's a possibility that well-meaning and not-so well-meaning individuals will drag that up and will inevitably put that in our faces as the reasons why there are differences in life circumstances between different groups.


Wait . . . What About Medical Incidences?
Yes, it is true that certain groups of people are genetically predisposed for certain hereditary diseases. For example, statistics show African-Americans have a higher incidence of sickle cell anemia than other racial groups in the US. But upon further examination, sickle cell has nothing to with African ancestry per se, but rather everything to do with a condition that developed in response to malaria.

With the technology that is available to modern science to do DNA analysis and with the advent of The Human Genome Project, etc. it is coming to light that our modern concept of “race” is an unhelpful one.

Okay, Maybe, But What’s Wrong with Race as a Socio-Political Construction?
Absolutely nothing. Using a classification system for whatever reason is not inherently wrong and/or discriminatory. Forming an identity with a certain group that has not only physical similarities, but cultural similarities as well is not harmful in the least bit. But using the notion of supposed biological difference in “race” to validate/excuse social differences is when we get into trouble.

Other Links
I don’t mean to be overwhelming, but here are links to other articles that I found on the Net to help clarify this stance:

"Does Race Exist?"

"Why We Should Give Up on Race"

American Association of Physical Anthropologists (AAPA) Statement on Biological Aspects of Race

Spanish word/phrase of the day: la raza (lah RAH-sah) = race

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

Thursday, May 18, 2006

How It All Started . . .

I’ve been a ninetyandnine.commer for a long time. It started when I picked up a flier at General Conference in 2000. I was a wet-behind-the-ears college freshman, and a site touted as “college and career centered” piqued my interest, so I checked it out. Thrilled with what I found, and eager to contribute and become a part of it, I sent in my first submission, a poem:

The World As We Know It
I have to go far, far away from this place . . .
Away from the world as we know it,
And never come back—ever, ever.
Give me the wings of the morning,
Let me fly
Guided by the light of the dawn,
Floating, soaring in the bliss of flight.
Let me gaze upon the city below and take in the beauty—
Take and share the pain of the people
So that I can reach out.
I want to kiss a star and laugh with the moon.
Let me delve into the deepest parts of the sea,
Uncovering new treasures and unknown wonders.
I have a need to roll in the bare, sacred earth of a wide, open plain,
Each spinning turn eroding layers upon layers,
Stripping away, exposing parts deeper and deeper,
Until there’s nothing
Left but
Me.

To my utter surprise, I received an email from Kent Curry, Executive Editor, and I, sentimental fool/memento hoarder that I am, printed it out and saved it:

Chantell,

I just wanted to thank you for your superb poem! I must admit, we get a fair amount of submissions & most of the poetry is, to put it kindly, unacceptable. However, yours excited us.

Please write more.

Please send more. (We promise we won’t reject most of it. :-)

Or write devotions, book/music reviews or whatever you need to develop your writing talent. ninetyandnine.com is a perfect forum for reaching others and strengthening yourself. Don’t miss out on it.

In His Service,

Kent Curry
Executive Editor—Content

I was excited because I finally found something relevant, something I could relate to. I found a network of like-goaled, like-minded people, and I was so happy for the opportunity to become a part of it.

Spanish word/phrase of the day: la poesía (lah poe-eh-SEE-ah) = poetry

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

I Gave an Old Man Directions

Need Directions? Don't Ask Me
I usually hate giving directions. I’m like the worst directions giver ever. I always stumble over my words and am a little too vague and end up sounding like I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m a good navigator . . . for example if I have a Mapquest printout and I’m sitting in the passenger’s seat guiding the driver along during a long trip or something, I can do that. Or if someone gives me directions to someplace I’ve never been, I’m pretty good at following them. But if I’m the one who has to give directions, usually, forget it. But sometimes, teeny tiny opportunities present themselves in life where you’re able to prove yourself wrong.

Munchy Craving Turned Opportunity
Yesterday, after school, I went by a gas station convenience store to pick up a bag of Frito-Lay Ultimate Cheddar Mix Munchies. When I walked in, there was a stooped over old man with a drawn out map on a piece of yellow legal-sized paper, and it seemed that he was asking for directions. Several patrons tried to help him, but I guess didn’t know where he was talking about even though he had a map. The guy at the counter had a very hard to understand Indian accent, so the old man seemed to be out of luck.

When I got to the counter to pay for my Munchies, the poor old guy just looked so helpless, and one of the people in the store who had been trying to help him looked at me and said, “You from around here? Could you give him directions?” Oh, boy. You asked the wrong person. I looked at the drawn out map anyway, and saw that the man was trying to get to Ray Thorington Road. Oh, I know where that’s at, that’s on the way to the district campgrounds! I patiently explained where he needed to go. It was that easy! Then everything seemed to click in the old man’s mind, and before he left he said, “You know, if there were more people like you around, this world would be a better place.”

Awwww . . . (sniff, sniff). And I thought I was the worst directions giver ever.

Spanish word/phrase of the day: ayudar un viejo (ah-yoo-DAHR oon bee-AY-hoh) = to help an old man

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Home Sweet Home?

Sayonara to Dorm Life
Well, I moved back in with my family after five years of quasi-independence. My dear, loving, practical, overprotective (did I mention I was the only girl?) dad suggested it for at least a year so that I could save up some money. After suffering near burnout in Tuscaloosa, familiar, homey Montgomery was a welcome change of scene. Moving back in with my family, eating home-cooked meals, sayonara to community bathrooms and being awakened at ungodly hours on late Friday and Saturday nights by (less than sober) gaggles of (underaged) girls (did I mention I was a Resident Assistant for 3 years?)—I was ready for home sweet home.

The Bros
I knew the day was coming, I just didn’t know when—the day that home sweet home would begin to have a saccharine aftertaste. Let me back up and say that my family is very close. I’m very thankful that all of us have been born again, and we all attend church together. I know that I’m blessed because I know that there are many families where that is not the case. I’m the oldest of three; I have two younger brothers, and we’re each two years apart. Middle bro has since moved out, but anyway, after a little bit of home sweet home, I felt like I was thrown back in time. Age did not weaken the incidence of sibling rivalry. I learned that it didn’t matter to my bros that I had graduated, that I’m a supposed grown-up with a grown-up job. Nope. I’m Big Sis. Big Sis is Big Sis no matter what. And they treated me that way. (Okay, that’s not to say that I never treated them like Little Bros. Old habits die hard.)

The ‘Rents
And then the ‘rents. ::sigh:: I love my folks with an undying love, but I have had my days when I just felt like making a public service announcement: “Dear listeners, this message is to inform you that Chantell Smith is 24 years old. You need not worry unduly about where she is going. Let’s be reasonable, listeners. Going to Panera Bread to get an iced chai with a friend is not going to put her on the road to perdition.” Not that my ‘rents think that getting an iced chai from Panera Bread leads to the road to perdition, but they might fool you with the way that they ask me about where I’m going sometimes.

But in the End . . .
Ah, well. I guess it’s just part of the deal. I mean, a year of rent-free living is a good thing. I’m planning to gather up all of my carefully set aside resources to move out in July. I love my family to death, but the experience of moving back in for a while has shown me that there comes a time when you gotta do it on your own. It’ll be just me . . . which is something I ponder over with mixed feelings, but in the end, I think I need to show myself that I can do it on my own.

Spanish word/phrase of the day: Hogar dulce hogar (oh-GAHR DOOL-say oh-GAHR) = home sweet home

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

Monday, May 15, 2006

Reflections

On This Weekend
Six Flags didn’t happen as planned. Grrrr . . . for some reason, that day, unbeknownst to us, was a school activity day which wasn’t even open to the public, and they shut down the park at 6 p.m. Phooey. Ah, but the summer’s still waiting to be lived out—Six Flags, you may have foiled me this time, but we shall meet again!

Nevertheless, we still had a good time. We went to Atlanta to see a family friend get her Doctorate of Education from the University of Georgia. I was so proud of her . . . I wondered if maybe that would be me one day. Homegirl went all out—she put all of her guests up at the Hilton, and we had nice dinners and all of that wonderful stuff. I felt pretty posh in such surroundings and had a hard time resisting the urge to break into the mini-bar. (Just kidding on that last one.) I did get a little Spanish practice in with some of the maids, though.

On the Job
It is ridiculously insane that I nearly have one year of teaching experience under my belt. It’s frightening to think about how fast this year has gone by. Is it going to be like this from here on out? The years zipping by at lightning speed, leaving me breathless? I mean, I am not complaining. This school year has been a blast.

God really hooked me up. I’m at a private school that pays better than area public schools (which is not common), there is great parental and administrative support, there is an abundance of financial resources, behavior is not a humongous problem, so I can actually be a teacher rather than a disciplinarian, and I have a lot of freedom—I’m the only Spanish teacher at the elementary and middle school, so I can basically, without meaning to sound too flippant, do what I want. There is really no precedent for me to follow (especially at the middle school, where Spanish is a totally new exploratory class), so I’m kind of forging the way.

On the Former Student Status
Last year around this time, I had just graduated . . . perhaps I had just signed the contract for the new job. But as much as I am thankful for the job God has given me, a teeny tiny part of me longs for the days—those days when “poor college student” was a badge of honor. Never again will I be able to go about my daily business in a denim skirt, flip-flops and a t-shirt with “COLLEGE” printed on the front that I got for selling my books back at The College Store. Never again will I be able to get a brand new life at the beginning of every semester. Student discounts? Fuggedaboutit. The intrigue of professorial crushes? Gone. Hearing famous writers speak (Alice Walker, August Wilson, Harper Lee), meeting international students at Starbucks and seeing my name written in Cyrillic and Japanese, seeing foreign films for free—those are just a few of the things I miss.

I suppose I am being a little one-sided. Those carefree, enlightening days were not without stress. Especially the last year. And that is precisely why I decided to get my hands dirty in the world of work—fear of burnout from continuing on with my education right away.

Ah, but here I am. And I trust that God has me where He wants me.

PS—A late Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!

Spanish word/phrase of the day: ¡Ay, los recuerdos! (AH-ee lohs ray-KWER-dohs) = Ah, the memories!

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!