You don’t sound black

It’s that mindset that gives political correctness a bad name.

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The cartoonist Keith Knight, a/k/a Keef is “the creator of three popular comic strips: the Knight Life, (th)ink, and the K Chronicles.” I haven’t followed (th)ink, which is a one-panel editorial strip, but The Knight Life is syndicated in several daily newspapers, including the local Times Union; you can read it HERE.

Arguably his best strip is K Chronicles. Keef says: “K Chronicles is like an indie film and the Knight Life is like a (good) network sit-com. Read his September 2015 strip Not Black. (I’ll wait.) I so relate!

When I was first working in my current job, we provided library services not just for New York State, but all around the country. In those largely pre-Internet, and even pre-email days, I would talk with SBDC counselors on the telephone, taking their questions. Then we would go to the national conference to tout our services. Invariably, I’d see white people, shocked that I was black. And black people, PLEASED that I was black.

More than once, I’ve gotten into debates with people about whether I “sound” black. My argument: I’m black, this is what I sound like. Ipso facto, I sound black.

Oh, the picture above is from a 2009 K Chronicles that created a kerfuffle. Students at Slippery Rock University in western Pennsylvanian school were “outraged” that “the black cartoonist Keith Knight dared to draw a black guy in a noose.” The objection is “extraordinarily stupid… once you read the actual comic strip in question.”

It’s that mindset that gives political correctness – whatever that means – a bad name, especially at colleges. In fact, The Atlantic had a lengthy article in September 2015, The Coddling of the American Mind. “In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.” So the idea of lynching is so offensive that when Keef is making an anti-lynching point in the drawing, the greater truth is lost.

Uncle Ben Carson as Uncle Tom?

Version B is the ambitious black person who subordinates himself in order to achieve a more favorable status within the dominant society.

UncleBenThe Okie asks:

Some folks are saying this (picture) is racist. I think it’s perversely genius. It takes a still existing trademark with a very questionable past (Uncle Ben is now Chairman of the Board, it seems) and uses it for political satire. I went looking around the net for more information and found this article which I found interesting. Roger Green, I’d be interested in your take on it.

I read the comment on one string. Some felt it was a fine parody, appropriate about Republican presidential candidate Ben Carson, someone who has said such outlandish things as that Jews having guns could have mitigated or even prevented the Holocaust. He’s not only been shown to be ignorant of history but, surprisingly for a neurosurgeon, profoundly wrongheaded about science.

Others felt the intent is irrelevant.”Stereotypes like ‘Uncle Ben’ and ‘Aunt Jemima’ are offensive to many African Americans in much the same way the pejorative ‘Uncle Tom’ is. They are used to perpetuate the myth of happy, subservient black people. that it is still being used to sell food products is as bad as a football team being called ‘Redskins’. And one added if it would have been OK if Barack and Michelle Obama had been so characterized.

This is a tricky nut to crack. I’m less concerned about evoking Uncle Ben as I am about the implicit suggestion of Uncle Tom. Though, as you’ll see, they are related.

I wrote about Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and the term Uncle Tom quite a while back, so I thought I’d take a look at the article the Okie mentioned, located on the website of the Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorabilia. The piece made sense to me until, in its portrayal of the movie roles of Sidney Poitier, the writer declared all the roles listed to “approximate… the Tom stereotype, even though his characters were never one dimensional. Poitier did not play characters that were submissive, cheerful servants, but many of his characters were white-identified.” Notably missing was In the Heat of the Night, where Poitier returns the slap of the racist.

Next is the “Commercial Toms” section, which notes Uncle Ben’s “using the image of a smiling, elderly black man on its package.” (This begs the question what WOULD have been an appropriate black character?) “Arguably the most enduring commercial Tom is ‘Rastus,’ the Cream of Wheat Cook. While the guy on the package seems benign to me, the patois that he was stuck saying in earlier days was clearly racist: “Maybe Cream of Wheat aint got no vitamines. I dont know what them things is….” Too bad, because he always reminded me of some ancestors of my father.

The real crux of this matter is in the section “Uncle Tom as Opprobrium”:

In many African American communities “Uncle Tom” is a slur used to disparage a black person who is humiliatingly subservient or deferential to white people. Derived from Stowe’s character, the modern use is a perversion of her original portrayal. The contemporary use of the slur has two variations. Version A is the black person who is a docile, loyal, religious, contented servant who accommodates himself to a lowly status. Version B is the ambitious black person who subordinates himself in order to achieve a more favorable status within the dominant society. In both instances, the person is believed to overly identify with whites, in Version A because of fear, in Version B because of opportunism. This latter use is more common today.

“Uncle Tom,” unlike most anti-black slurs, is primarily used by blacks against blacks. Its synonyms include “oreo,” “sell-out,” “uncle,” “race-traitor,” and “white man’s negro.” It is an in-group term used as a social control mechanism.

I have discovered that some white people also feel the need to ascertain whether a black person is “black enough.” In column A, the moderate civil rights leaders of the 1960s (King, Whitney Young, et al.) had been called Toms by those more militant. But the Version B have included Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas and pretty much any black Republican.

This is an extremely long way to say, no, I don’t think the picture is specifically racist; it surely did not offend me. Mentioning race, or Uncle Tom, or Uncle Ben, is not perforce inappropriate. But there is an element of what Nelson Mandela used to refer to as racialism, a conversation that has race as a core element.

That convenient trope that all black conservatives aren’t “REALLY black” I find frustrating. Their philosophy certainly doesn’t represent MY POV at all, but to drum them out of the ethnic grouping as “inauthentic” by those who act “blacker than thou” really bugs me. Even when it applies to Ben Carson, who, if I were inclined, I might mock as foolish or crazy, but not as an Uncle Tom, which, I believe, the drawing is, at least partially, designed to do. Perhaps he was targeted as a result of his total lack of understanding of Black Lives Matter.

Still, I found the graphic mildly clever. The Wife grimaced when she saw it, but the tween daughter, who’s pretty political savvy for her age, found it hilarious.

September rambling #1: chugging cognac, and Flowers on the Wall

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A lifelong experience of being black in America tends to mitigate against that.

rageAmy, the one with the Sharp Little Pencil said:

I would like to hear your thoughts on this article … A professor had an horrific experience. The advice he gives, it’s true but SO SAD that youth need to learn it.

The article from the Huffington Post is How to Keep Our Black Boys Alive: Channeling the Rage by Marian Wright Edelman, but referring to an experience by Dr. Terrell Strayhorn, Director of the Center for Higher Education Enterprise at The Ohio State University, and a bunch of other honorifics.

The core of the incident relayed involved Dr. Strayhorn being pulled over by a police officer after he had purchased a nice new car.

“He said, ‘Do you know why I stopped you?’ I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Because you don’t look old enough to drive this car.’ It sounded like a compliment, but then I had to remind him—in my head, not out loud—that in this country actually, [when] you get a driver’s license, you’re free to drive any car.”

Of course, the VERY first comment is from a white guy who said HE’D been pulled over for driving while young, so that Dr. Strayhorn should just “get over it.” This, I will tell you, is the tricky nature of racism, which is that maybe, just MAYBE it WAS his age. But a lifelong experience of being black in America tends to mitigate against that.

To the broader question, I certainly have had incidents that have enraged me. I don’t think I’ve told this one.

It was the early 1980s, and I was moving to a new apartment in Albany. In those days, I had to actually GO to New York Telephone and Niagara Mohawk, the power company at the time, to get my services connected. So, I took my lunch hour from FantaCo, the comic store I worked at the time, to arrange these things.

My New York Tel experience was great. These flirty, attractive women were trying to upsell me for services I didn’t want, or need, and didn’t buy. Still, it put me in quite the good mood.

Then I went to NiMo, and talked with this woman at length about getting my gas and electricity. I filled out the form, and she went over it. A previous ZIP Code I lived in was 12309, with included a well-to-do suburb of Schenectady called Niskayuna, though in fact, I was living in the part of Schenectady adjacent to it.

“THAT’S a very expensive neighborhood,” she said, sounding as though she didn’t believe me. I replied, “um-hmm”

We get to the part of the process where we arrange to have the service started. I was moving only three blocks from work, off Lark Street. I suggested that the service person call me at work, and I could run over and be at my apartment in five minutes.

She countered: “Why don’t you leave the door unlocked? You don’t have anything of value anyway.”

I was angry. No, I was livid. I was enraged. Yet, I found the place in my voice to say, “Actually, I DO have things of value.” Eventually, and unhappily, she capitulated to my request.

I got back to work, late, and I’m sure someone pointed that out. I pounded on a desk and said, teeth literally clenched, “I had the worst customer service experience in my life,” and explained the dialogue.

A couple of days later, because I needed to calm down enough to think, I wrote a page and a half long, typed letter to NiMO, expressing my outrage. To their credit, they wrote back an apology and suggested the employee would be reprimanded. Whether that happened, I don’t know.

Note that this woman never called me the N- word, or made any direct, specific racial reference. I could draw the conclusion that questions anyone who lived in a nice neighborhood, or suggested that their possessions were valueless. OR I could draw the conclusion that this was racially motivated.

Now I COULD have lost my cool at the NiMo office. I would have felt totally justified. The problem is that I would have come across as a crazy black man, who just went OFF for no apparent reason.

I’ve long thought that Jackie Robinson, needing to control his rage against the taunts he experienced when he broke the color line in Major League Baseball, shortened his life; he was only 53 when he died. Hey, maybe rage contributes to lower life expectancy among black people – both rage expressed, in violence, and rage suppressed.

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