Race and South Africa

Today in class, we discussed the racial groupings in South Africa during apartheid. My mom is South African, so I thought it would be interesting to talk to her about her experiences.

In South Africa during apartheid, everyone had what was known as a "Book of Life." It contained a ton of information about the person to whom it belonged, including his or her race. Apartheid was much like segregation, and there were limited opportunities for people who weren't white. Train cars were segregated, among other things. My mom remembers one time that she was riding the train and started talking to this girl sitting nearby. When they both got off the train, the girl was met by her family, and my mom saw that her family was racially mixed. But since the girl only looked tan and not "colored," she was able to board the white car without hassle.

I asked my mom about her experiences coming to America. I told her about our conversation in class and asked if she remembered living in a country where people differentiated between black and colored. She did. I asked her if she identified African American people that way when she came to America. She told me that she didn't classify people as black or colored, but if someone was lighter than another, she would observe that they had mixed ancestry. She still thinks that way today.

I don't know if anyone here has heard of the Capitol Steps, but they are a musical political comedy group. I remember during election season, they put out a song called "A Leader Named Barack," to the tune of "Leader of the Pack." There was one line that went, "Is Obama black? Not very... Not like Whoopi Goldberg, more like Halle Berry." It just occurred to me that as Americans, we can't describe people of mixed race like Obama and Berry. We don't have the words for it. So they're both light-skinned blacks. But Berry is easily as light as any tan white woman. I asked my mom how she would classify both, and she said that Goldberg is black and Berry is of mixed ancestry. She asked me how I classified them, and I told her I always thought they were both black, even though I observed a clear distinction between their skin colors. It's really interesting to see that since Americans don't have the language to describe race as acutely as South Africans, we perceive people differently.

Race is such a sensitive subject, which I find interesting. We feel completely comfortable describing the color of someone's hair, but skin color is a different story. I remember when I was in 9th grade, I wrote a paper on apartheid for World History, and I struggled. I couldn't say "African American," which I thought was the politically correct term, because South Africans aren't American. But black seemed derogatory, even though I describe myself as white. A black girl I know hates being called "African American" because she's, in fact, Jamaican. History is so fraught with race tensions that no one wants to step out of line.

Valentine's Day

I watch a lot of TV, including Cougar Town (which is my guilty pleasure show), 30 Rock (which I genuinely love), and Community. All three shows recently aired episodes focusing on Valentine's Day. In Cougar Town, Jules tried to find someone to spend Valentine's Day with. In 30 Rock, Liz Lemon scheduled a root canal so she wouldn't have to deal with being single on Valentine's Day and then learned she needed to find someone to drive her home afterwards, which she couldn't do because everyone else had Valentine's Day plans. In Community, Pierce and Troy were very disappointed not to receive Valentine's Day gifts from anyone. All episodes showed how Valentine's Day can often just draw focus to the lack of love in one's life.

What does all this mean? Well, I think Valentine's Day has become way too big. It's gotten to the point where single women (and maybe even men?) feel terribly alone on Valentine's Day. People who are in relationships often make such a big deal out of it. And the media doesn't exactly help. Around Valentine's Day, advertisements for jewelry skyrocket, for example. And when you go to the grocery store, the card and balloon aisle is lined in red and pink.

Valentine's Day supposedly celebrates love, but as Mr. Sal pointed out in his blog post, it's really about romance. You never give your parents gifts on Valentine's Day, for example. It's not about parent-child love. It's about rose petals and Cupid's arrow and all that romantic gloop.

I think the supersizing of Valentine's Day is pretty much exclusively American. My mom took me on a college trip over the Valentine's Day weekend, and she and my dad both forgot about it until a few days afterwards. I'd be interested to learn how important it is in other cultures, especially non-Anglican ones.

Cookie Thief

I think we all often judge people before we really know them. I can immediately think of two cases where I was judgemental about people before I truly knew them. One time, I judged on appearance, and the other, I formed my opinions based on rumors. Both times, I was proven wrong, and I felt pretty stupid.

The first time was at my theater camp over the summer. We were put into groups and each group had to put on a production. Our group went through some major drama. One girl in my group had this terrifying breakdown, because my counselor chose the directors of the show, and she wasn't picked. She started screaming and throwing things at everyone in the group, and when my counselor asked her to calm down, she screamed, "No! I'm sick of the popular bitches getting everything they want." My counselor tried to calm her down, but she refused to comply. After her breakdown, our group was sent outside while the camp administrators dealt her. She ended up being sent home. Anyway, while we were outside, one of the girls who had been chosen to direct started crying. The other girl comforted her and tried to calm us all down. They were very human and normal and truly nice, and I felt bad. First off, I felt terrible that they were attacked like that by this girl in our group. But I also felt guilty, because I had also judged these two girls. They were gorgeous and fashionable, and I made a faulty generalization about them. I had also thought that they were popular bitches, but after I got to know them, I realized that both were geniunely nice people.

The second time was earlier this year. I had just had a horrible fight with my best friend. She told me she wanted to take a break as friends. It came as a very abrupt shock to me, and I started crying hysterically right in the middle of the hallway. I sat down in the elevator well by the West Auditorium. As I cried, at least four people I knew walked past me, and all of them looked at me and turned away. I know that it's a difficult situation to deal with, to see someone crying. You never really know what to do. But right then, I didn't want to be left alone. I wanted to feel as though someone, anyone cared about me. That help came from someone I didn't expect at all. He has a reputation as being a promiscuous asshole, and I never really thought he was capable of any compassion. I didn't know him at all, though. But when he saw me crying, he sat down next to me and asked me what was wrong, and made me laugh through my tears. I was so grateful for his compassion, and I really learned that people are way more than just their reputations. Reputations minimize people. And while I know the guy that helped me is promiscuous, and he can be an asshole to people he doesn't like, I also know now that he is more than that.

So instead of thinking I know people because of what I've heard about them or because of my observations on their appearance, I now know that such "knowledge" is nowhere near enough.

Micro vs. Macro

Within my family, we have a hierarchy. My father is at the top, closely followed by my mother, followed by my sister and myself. The dog is at the bottom of our structure. My dad usually has the final say on everything, and even when my mom disagrees, she usually goes along with his decisions so as not to cause unwanted tension. My sister and I often have very little control over anything, and the dog is essentially a passive figure, either to be disciplined or loved but never really considered when making decisions.

In American culture, and, in fact, Anglican cultures in general, families are usually headed by men, which is macro sociology controlling our family structure. Until fairly recently, women didn't have many rights. I think that the notion that women are inferior to men came from way back when, when women were gatherers and looked after the children while the men hunted. Men are naturally more athletic, and thus, they became the providers of food. The survival of the family was usually in their hands. As time wore on, men came to think of themselves as superior, probably not realizing the influence and importance mothers have in the lives of their children. This idea continued, at least in America, up through the early 1900s. Men shaped a role for themselves as providers, and women shaped a domestic niche for themselves. These roles originated back in the Stone Age.

My mom was one of the first girls in her town to have a Bat Mitzvah, and in Judaism, women often are considered secondary to men, because they are considered to be less responsible for their actions. At services, it's more important for men to focus, because what they say and do actually matters in the eyes of God, so women are separated from them so the men won't be distracted. That's a more Orthodox take on Judaism. My parents were both raised in that environment. Now our family is Conservative, and I was raised in an egalitarian synagogue and always taught that I could do just as much as boys. I think, though, that the early influences of Orthodox Judaism and this age where women were still considered secondary really shaped my parents. I don't think that when I have a family of my own I will play the same role as my mother. I've been raised to believe in myself, and I'm angered by all the injustices that women still face today. I will share power with my husband, not borrow it from him.

But there are definitely other forces at work within my family - our personalities, or the microsociological aspect. My father is a very dominant person. He makes himself heard, he has a quick temper and a stern manner when he wants to make a point. My mother doesn't like conflicts, and when they occur, she often supports my father. Yet she's the one who smooths things over after a big fight. I would say that their personalities cooperate to give my dad power. Yet I would say that I have my dad's worst traits: his stubbornness, quick temper, and unwillingness to admit I'm wrong. We clash often because of our similarities. My mother is an emotional person, and both my sister and I are too, which can also aggravate circumstances. Our personalities, shaped by our genes, but also by the circumstances under which we were raised (including the assertion that we can do anything we put our minds to, which has only made us more stubborn), cause conflicts within my family and thus control who has power.

Today, Salituro mentioned that an alien race might think that dogs are superior beings to the rest of us. My dog is usually completely unaffected by our conflicts. She'll snore placidly on the sofa and pay no attention to us. In a way, she kind of acts like a superior being, unconcerned by our petty disagreements. But every time my sister storms out of a room, she makes a beeline for the dog, who licks my sister's face and allows herself to be sobbed on. When she's done something wrong, though, it's clear that she's completely inferior. My dad will chastise her, her tail will immediately go between her legs, and she'll slink off to a corner to stew in her shame. My dog is actually pretty complicated to explain. I feel like she has a personality. She has very expressive eyes, and I can always tell what she wants. She's just adorable, and her silly grin always cheers me up. We joke about her, saying things like, "Her highness wants to go outside again." In a way, she does control us. We look after her and almost worship her - cooing over her and kissing her nose and whatnot. (Well, my dad doesn't. He's disdainful of dog worship.) But she really has no say in anything that happens. She can't voice an opinion, and she doesn't understand and doesn't care about our fights. She's both the supreme comforter and the most unimportant of us all. The fact that she isn't human sets her apart from our power struggle almost completely.