26 June 2009

Ha-ha...


Robert and Sarah - both 10 years old - are in love. They've been playmates for over half a decade, and they want to get married right away.
Robert, like the gentleman he is, approaches Sarah's father one afternoon. Sarah's dad sees the serious youngster, asks him to take a seat after offering him some lemonade.
"So how are you doing, Robert? Everything okay?"
"Oh, yes Sir. I'm doing very well, thank you. I needed to talk with you today because Sarah and I have decided to get married and would like your blessings."
Sarah's dad thinks it's rather cute and amusing and decides to humour the young boy.
"That's a good idea son, but don't you think you should wait for some years?"
"Oh no, Sir. We love each other and don't want to stay apart anymore."
"I see. But son, what about living arrangements? Where do you plan to live?"
"I'll move into Sarah's room, Sir. She has a bigger room, and the bathroom's right next to her room."
"I see. But what are you going to do about money? How are you going to provide for yourselves?"
"We've thought about that. I make $14.00 a week and Sarah makes $12.50. That's $26.50 a week between the two of us, which is $106.00 a month. We've also got a savings of $520 between the two of us. We'll get along nicely. Neither one of us is a big spender, Sir. It's the occasional soda or sandwich that we go out for, and maybe a movie - apart from the books that we buy. But we've decided to eat inside, and watch movies at home, and get the books from the public library - at least until we have some decent savings set aside."
Sarah's dad is tickled pink by this point.
He looks at Robert with a twinkle in his eye, and says, "Well son, I see you've got everything planned out beautifully. But what are you going to do if a baby comes along?"
With a very thoughtful look in his eyes, Robert says, "We'll take our chances, Sir. We've been lucky so far."
Sarah's dad is no longer tickled pink, and across the street, Granny Dorothy (who's a little dotty) shoots up from her bed yelling, "The elephants. The elephants. The bellowing elephants are here!"

P.S: Read the above a couple of weeks ago somewhere....


25 June 2009

Curious expectations

A rather curious experience in the outside world makes me write this post. I’ll write a post about teaching some other day. In some ways, this incident has little to do with my being a teacher although I do wonder how I can get some sort of a positive message across without sounding as though I am preaching or trying to force people to act, behave or think in a certain way.

Somehow, I had innately imagined that individuals who have felt marginalized or victimized in some way or the other – great or small, medium or slight – experience greater empathy and/or sympathy if they also have the benefit of being able to reflect (that is they are not fundamentally incapacitated in their mental abilities) upon their victimization and marginalization in society, which could either be at the institutional or at the individual level. Thus somehow I have almost “expected” people who have faced some sort of discrimination to be sensitive to different forms of discrimination. Thus, I would think that I would be more sensitive to the stigma faced by other groups, say for instance the sort of ridicule the physically handicapped face (especially in India) or what the elderly may face simply because they are seen to belong to a particular social category, especially if I have been viewed with negative bias because of my religion, race, sex, national identity or ethnic status. It’s the idea of abstracting the concept of discrimination and seeing how it can affect people across different groups.

But it doesn’t seem to work that way. People may be acutely aware of how they or their ancestors because of their social membership in a particular category have been subject to torture or insensitivity and how that has had adverse effects on them as an entire social group – but they don’t seem to feel that being prejudiced in some form or another against an entire social category is also a form of discrimination. I do agree completely that people can have personal likes and dislikes, and as long as there is no abuse or undesired violence involved or force or compulsion – I don’t see why we can’t just let human beings be who they are without trying to subjugate them. And I will always remember that famous line, which in my own head runs something to the effect of, “I may disagree with what you say or how you see some things but I will always defend your right to be…” I can quite see how behaviour and particular forms of behaviour and actions that human beings engage in can cause rift and strife and plenty of unpleasantness, yet I don’t think I have ever understood how active hate, indifference, and apathy can be directed against entire classes of people. Oh, I know it exists – that doesn’t surprise me. It’s just that after so many years of formal education I haven’t gotten any closer to understanding the factors or the causes or the processes behind human hate, indifference, and apathy.

On the other hand many people whom I’ve come across in my personal life and academic life have been such militant equalizers with their claim that “all human beings are the same. Bring them up the same way – and they’ll be all the same – dammit!” that they have made me roll my eyes all the more (since these people were/are of my same age group and have had more experiences, or so I would think). Also I’ve come across people who have talked so much about being the “victim” or else are so obsessed with social inequality, marginalization, discrimination and patriarchal structures that they don’t seem to see that sometimes individual level explanations are not only indispensable but that discrimination does not and cannot explain all the ills that exist in society and that patriarchy certainly is not responsible for all that is wrong with the womenfolk of today or the world of today. They seem to be completely unaware that certain things have just gone too far.

Fairly recently, I remember people (who are in gender studies and have gotten their PhDs) say “Figure skating is a flagrantly sexist sport.” Ice skating as a sport apparently serves some sort of a patriarchal interest and indulges some sort of a male perversion and was being held up as an example of institutional discrimination and male domination. I had replied and quite cheerfully that a) both men and women participate in figure skating b) it is an aesthetically appealing sport c) I liked watching it every now and again when I could and had always watched it as a kid and d) I was neither a pervert nor a male and hadn’t been either – not in this lifetime at any rate. I don’t remember whether I’d been subject to the patriarchal hegemonic discourse lecture that time around.

For some students who are specializing in gender or queer studies or race - everything in society can be boiled down to patriarchal domination or discrimination based on sexual orientation or racism or some form of a combination of all these ills. The ones who see this priceless combination of discrimination (race, gender and sexual orientation) are viewed as being utterly remarkable because they have been able to locate all the important social links that cause all the ills in this world. Some graduate students have even told me that according to them – all White students should experience absolute guilt for their treatment of Blacks (African-Americans). It doesn’t even matter whether these White students have never felt anything but goodwill towards Blacks in general and are also aware of how racism functions in the current United States society. They must still experience guilt and feel the absolute shame. They must carry the guilt of their predecessors.

Now I am not a big one for guilt. True – it has its functions and its role in some situations but endless guilt or absolute guilt does not appeal to me too much. Also, I don’t see the point in actively shaming someone who has not actively done anything wrong apart from belonging to a particular social category (I have never seen it worth my while to call all men beasts or all women idiots or all Whites racists or all African Americans victims). I have also come across my share of White students, who believe that racism is completely a thing of the past while class discrimination has never been an issue in the United States (and there are traceable reasons as to why they believe thus) while being completely aware of gender discrimination and also being aware of the need to address it (for this awareness, I have not been able to locate any clear reasons). It isn’t possible, I know, to always change how people think (and I don’t think I’ve ever been able to do that) but I know I made a bit of progress when I asked students to think about the school system, the tracking system, the location of schools in particular neighbourhoods and the available resources, the taxation system, and differences in access to education (no matter how flawed the education system is) and how different opportunity structures are blocked because of some forms of stratification. I got some reviews from students where I was labeled a “racist” and one where I was called the “worst instructor” the student had ever had but I got a couple of students who by the end of the semester really did seem to have shifted perceptibly even if infinitesimally in how they viewed stratification and social identity markers and social categories of people. And I certainly didn’t shame or accuse anyone.

And all this is not to say that I don’t for a minute think that I am above reproach. I am a member of this community of social "scientists" (!) after all – and I don’t really have any answers to any of the meaningful social questions and am indeed just as confused about some issues as I had been when I’d formally started studying this discipline some 15 years ago. Furthermore I know how embarrassingly loud of a militant I was and have been and can be even now if pushed a bit or if I get it into my head that I am being pushed.

Stereotypes are common, and not always are they false. But about that some other day. The problem is when I start treating individual human beings in a certain way based on a stereotype that I carry in my head. Differences amongst human beings are also something that simply are. And I almost want to insert a footnote at this point saying: quite apart from social identity markers (such as race, creed, caste, religion….) – there are also individual differences which are no longer talked about because such talk isn’t seen to be politically correct (popular writers thankfully enough, write about these very sensible issues in a no-nonsense manner - but of course we, fancy academicians are too good for the likes of them!). Human beings differ in their talents, abilities, in their habits, in their predispositions, in their likes and dislikes….

Sometimes, like it or not, people may also be prejudiced. Prejudices for the most part are based on stereotypes. This is a good time for a Soc 100 quiz question to get my own frames in order: what is prejudice? In short, it is the collection of often irrational and preconceived notions (which are sometimes resistant to change even in the face of new and incoming information) regarding an individual but more often regarding a group of individuals based on some social identity. Prejudice, much like stereotypes, can be both positive and negative. But whereas positive stereotypes exist for both out-groups and in-groups – prejudices more often than not remain positive for the group one is in, that is the in-group (more likely than not), and negative for the other group, the out-group – whichever group that may be.

But more importantly (at least for now), what is the most sensible way to tackle that form of prejudice and/or bias given that people will have their own tastes and preferences? I’m not asking them to like or dislike groups of people but I do want to get them thinking why it seems so hard for them to “socially accept” a group of people. In different semesters there are different things that evoke very strong sentiments. This time it is sexual orientation, which I don’t remember being a problem in previous semesters. But how does one address the issue? Especially when one happens to be the instructor in a class where half the class just seems to be innately aware that non-acceptance of and/or active discrimination against people who belong to a minority group is unfair and where another half is not so sure about the same, and don’t see anything wrong about not-accepting or being suspicious about or being rather wary about an entire category of people? And it’s not as though the students in the second group are insensitive or non-intelligent otherwise. They participate in discussions and have made many pertinent points so far….but I am rather perplexed at this point.

The irony is not completely lost on me. All along I had been quite sure that a group of people who belonged to the same social category would respond in the same/similar way (as though belonging to a particular social category bestowed on them some identical characteristics, tastes, and dispositions) to certain social processes (in this case legal and/or social discrimination). Why on earth should they? It's been an eye-opener to me for sure....and in more ways than one.

Mixed Bag of violence

1. For the last month and a half I’ve been trying (and trying is the right word) to get together a paper on terrorism (call it political violence), and maybe some day once it’s all ready and done, I will talk some more about the experience. I’ve been reading therefore on political violence a bit.

2. I read some blogposts written by friends and others on different forms of horrific violence.

3. I have been thinking about some serious episodes of violence that I have been involved - both in the recent past and the distant past.

4. Reading the news every other day – there has been one nugget regarding violence that makes me wonder how far we can sink.

5. I’ve read shocking comments on blogs and elsewhere by seemingly normal people (from political leaders to regular citizens) who say that torture is acceptable and even fine when the individual “deserves” it or that killing a person with minimum brutality is all right – if they “deserve” it. The political leaders hem and haw sometimes, and at times are very suave about it – the regular citizens are no different.

6. Yesterday I read about a thoroughly disgusting and farcical incident (quite by accident), which shocked and horrified me on so many grounds that I don’t know where to start from. If anyone is interested – type in “Aliza Shvarts” on google. Quite apart from everything else - some people have actually defended her (“well, she didn’t really do it, so what’s the big deal”), praised her, and some others have been outraged for entirely the wrong reasons. Yale even allowed her to graduate. But let me not go on with this for now. The whole thing makes me sick.

21 June 2009

Love and Prayers

I know I believe in God - whatever my conception of God may be - and I know I believe in some level of goodness and justice existing in the world. I know I wouldn't be able to survive and stay sane if I didn't even believe in the existence of goodness and justice in the world, though I tend to agree with Russell when he says,
In the part of this universe that we know there is great injustice, and often the good suffer, and often the wicked prosper, and one hardly knows which of those is the more annoying - a quote that winked at me some seconds ago from a blog that I just revisited.

Sometimes, when all hope has simmered out of myself (and I have no illusions nor delusisons about my goodness) - I've been given some little string to look at and say "it's all right." I remember one afternoon from more than five years ago when a friend (Beth) had dragged me out of my dorm room and told me to come to a bookshop with her. We could take our books (or whatever I wanted to take) and sit in the coffee-shop, which was inside the bookshop or else I could browse around the bookstore. I didn't want to go but I don't remmeber any longer how she managed to convince me. So we drove there (she drove while I smoked and looked out of the window), and once there we got ourselves a small table near a window and got ourselves some coffee too. I had been reading a book by Feynman I remember - a collection of medium length philosophical essays by him. In the middle of reading something which made me sigh, I got up and started wandering around the bookstore - and somewhat aimlessly. I was in the section which carried diaries with inspirational quotes of all things. I was flipping through something or the other when suddenly there was a loud whomp and a diary had leapt out of the bookshelf and was lying on the floor (well it had at least fallen out of its space on the shelf and had therefore made me walk towards it). I walked to it, picked it up, and there on its front cover I saw the old Irish poem that I have loved ever since one human being sent it over to me along with some other poems:

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand....
....And that had been my string for the evening and the next....

Even if things didn't look all right at all and I haven't found any string - I've been able to say not much but just be, because I didn't see what else I could do. And if things haven't turned for the better overnight (and they hardly do - if ever) - something has given me some baseline courage to just be for a bit before I walked along.

I have often smiled wryly on reading about this or that person who has been able to live a "normal" life when he should not have been able to do thus. One of the most recent examples came in the form of a man, now in his late 50s who had a lobotomy, when he was 11 years old (this was some time in the 1960s). After going through a very troubled adolescence, he stabilised himself and then got some jobs before getting a permanent job driving a bus and he has been driving around for some time now. He also has normal levels of intelligence, is socially adjusted, and has a wife and a couple of kids. I have seen documentaries and read books about similar such people. People who were able to lead "normal" lives; when being normal becomes something of a miracle.

That's all well and good. Fine and dandy. Yet on some rare occasions in my life I have yelled out to God saying, "Blast it. What exactly do You want?...How much do You expect a person to put up with and still keep walking along? And why do You then bless us in some ways and seem to handicap us in some bizarre ways?!" Indeed, if truth be told there have been some rare occasions that I have yelled at God out of sheer frustration - certainly not hate. I can count the number of times - but I have. Over the years though I realised and knew that there was no point in yelling at God or being frustrated with Him. One can't really. It makes no sense. And I had stopped. No matter how grotty things got some years ago...I had stopped getting frustrated with God for my own shortcomings or for the bumps that I faced along the life that I had in some ways at least chosen or for the mix of my shortcomings and my karma. In any case as I always reminded myself - I had my limbs and all my other physical faculties in place.

Yet now I almost feel at my wits ends again and have been feeling this way close to a year now (which isn't a very long time at all I know), and some minutes ago just as I was about to say with absolute exasperation and desperation "...but it's not for myself this time around, God. You know that. What more can a human being do?Can't You do something..." - I stopped myself short. What am I trying to do exactly - fool both myself and God? Technically speaking I'm not praying for myself nor am I getting frustrated for myself - but when I pray for this other, I pray for myself....and when I do get frustrated with God (of all things) - it's because sometimes I can't see a way out.

If it weren't for the presence of a couple of other precious, significant and splendid beings in this world as well, I would most likely in a sudden moment have prayed to God begging Him to whisk this specific human being up and away and right next to Himself. How much can a human being take, I wonder. I've prayed for lots of people to meet with painless deaths - yet the only other human being, I have (in the same or at least similar spirit) ever wished dead, is myself - although I had made no plans of seeing or being with God. And I had not taken a millionth of what I had imagined in my batty head.

And as I wonder about this human being, I know that inspite of all the tales of horror and sadness, grottiness and terrible agony that I've read and come across I have wondered in a similar vein and with a similar consistency about only one other human being - maybe not with the same intensity, depth, and feeling though it may be - and no, it's certainly not myself that I'm talking about, but for some reason it's Tagore. Maybe it's because Tagore inspite of all his heartache, his agony, his acute sensitivity, and his repeated losses carried on and gave so much of himself. I don't know how he managed to do thus or what gave him the strength. I don't know what made him write, compose, share, and create, and keep thinking, reflecting, doing and acting with such boundless love, compassion, kindness, energy, and wisdom - but there it is. He did. And I don't know whether he did it all for himself or for others or whether it was one of those rare instances when doing for one's self and for others merges into one. And it amazes me. For amidst the depths of suffering and haunting loneliness - there is such brilliant splendour and grace that I - standing on the sidelines - cannot but weep, smile, and feel at the same time. From the very little bit that I know about Tagore and of him through his writings - that's how I feel. So maybe in some fundamental ways Tagore reminds me of this other so terribly unusual and precious human being just as this one unusual human being reminds me of Tagore in some ways, and means more to me than I can possibly say.

And so I pray and love (for as the unusual human being reminded me a week or so ago, we poor human beings can only love...the rest is up to God), and do what I can do - which is so woefully little that I can only grimace and like my younger self from close to two decades ago make deals with God or insist that a deal was made in the past, and I can but simmer and wait in my own pot.
With all my soul I love and pray that God be there, that God give strength and God bless.
Beyond that... what else?