Post-Colonial America Needs Truth & Reconciliation

I.

The United States is a post-colonial nation. It may not seem post-colonial – India, Kenya, South Africa… Those are the nations that come to mind when many think “post-colonial,” if you’re one to think about postcolonialism, that is. 

But the States are nonetheless post-colonial. We too bear the racial, social, and economic wounds left by imperial despots. We too grapple with the legacies of colonial divisions. It’s not as if racism existed here indigenously. It’s a colonial import.

That’s what colonialism does: it segments people by social constructions like skin color, religion, gender – anything colonialism can use to turn people into subjects and create an idolized “ideal” that dominates a dehumanized “other.”

In this invasive way, colonialism distorts every civil interaction, warping history and identities to make its self-serving philosophies seem sane. Right and wrong, deserving and undeserving, legitimate and illegitimate – these concepts are manipulated to suit the oppressor’s needs, and the stink lingers long after the overlords are ousted. 

“Imperialism leaves germs of rot,” postcolonial theorist Frantz Fanon wrote. 

The only way to cleanse this grotesque, colonial canker is by “removing” it from our minds, hearts, and society. America never did that, and we’re still paying the price. The only way forward is through Truth and Reconciliation.

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When Racists Embraced Remote Learning

Most of us know that in 1957, Arkansas Gov. Orval Faubus deployed the National Guard to prevent school integration in Little Rock. It did not go as planned: President Eisenhower used his superior power to override Faubus and ordered the Guard to instead protect the students, the Little Rock Nine – a move that ushered in integration in Arkansas’s capital city and showed the world that America was moving forward.

Equality won and Faubus was defeated…

The hateful governor, however, did not go quietly: the next year, 1958, as part of a broader “massive resistance” to integration, Gov. Faubus closed all of Little Rock’s public high schools and replaced them with television lessons produced at local tv stations.

The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette explains: “Each channel would offer 30-minute courses in English, math, history and science, with each station focusing on one grade level. The students would be on an honor system to watch… and there would be no homework or credit given.”

That’s right – rather than mix races, Faubus tried to entirely upend education – a bit like Ron DeSantis threatening to dismantle AP courses because he doesn’t believe in teaching true American history.

While Faubus thought he was clever, students were less than impressed. One 14-year-old said at the time, “I can’t wait to get back to school. The TV programs are fine, but I wish there was some way to have class discussions.” Another reflected later: “It was insignificant. It was watching some teachers talk on TV. It was the most modest form of educational experience.”

The courts were equally critical: a judge ruled Arkansas’ racist remote learning was just as unjust and unconstitutional as segregation itself and Faubus was once again forced to treat all people the same. Loser.

So, next time you hear a conservative gripe about remote learning during the COVID pandemic [or the next pandemic], remind them that their ideological ancestors pioneered remote learning to prop up racist discrimination. Isn’t it ironic?

[In an added twist, Faubus was a Democrat and Eisenhower a Republican – this was before the Dems moved left and the GOP adopted the “southern strategy” that began its embrace of hateful, discriminatory policies that define it today.]

(All images Thomas J. O’Halloran, via the Library of Congress.)

On Bald Women of the ’90s

I recently wrote about the preponderance of bald women in 90s pop culture for the website Neon Splatter. Here’s a brief blurb:

“The unisex and gender-neutral styles circa the ’90s…squashed gender into a singularity – a futuristic monogender made for an efficient tomorrow. It was an attempt at hurdling over gendered codes and modes by disregarding them. The consensus there could be read as: ‘We’re all basic in the future.'”

Head on over to Neon Splatter to check out the rest.

“Go Woke, Go Broke” and the Right’s Antipathy To Empathy

Conservatives have a long history of couching their cruel policies in bubbly branding. It was the right’s self-proclaimed “Moral Majority” that launched the war on drugs, ostracized AIDS patients, and demonized black women. It was “compassionate conservatism” that slashed food assistance, fought women’s rights, and banned same-sex marriage. (Actually, both did all of that and more.)

Branding aside, in all cases conservatives led by the GOP claimed they were enacting policies for the greater good, often leaving out “this will hurt you more than it will hurt me.” But those days are over. Today the right makes no secret of their exclusionary, ignorant ways. Now they loudly, proudly proclaim, “go woke, go broke,” a rhyme scheme that reveals the depths of their disdain for their fellow humans. They have no empathy and brag about it.

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Times Square at Night, 1908-2018

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I avoided Times Square when I lived in New York. Most of the city’s residents do – the Square’s too crowded; it’s too loud and bright and far too commercial. That was my general opinion for years, and still is, more or less. But right now I’m missing it.

I didn’t come to appreciate that garish tangle of streets until last year. I returned to the city for a work trip and was put up at a hotel on 46th street and 8th avenue, not far from an AA meeting I enjoy and a few doors down from the Scientology HQ, which I didn’t even know existed. Mel Brooks was performing two buildings further east, closer to 7th avenue and the runoff of Times Square proper.

It was the perfect summer night for a stroll. The Square was as white hot bright as ever; it was chaotic and cacophonous. A replica Back to the Future DeLorean drove by and life-sized cartoon characters jostled for change as a light drizzle fell. It was past 11, but despite the hour and weather, people were still everywhere, strolling, hustling, and gawking – thousands upon thousands of the reasons I once bypassed the so-called Crossroad of the World at all costs.

Today those crossroads are quiet as the Big Apple continues battling the pandemic. As my own lockdown continues I find myself wishing I could be back in the time before, right there in Times Square’s throbbing center – and I’m sure other people do, too, even New Yorkers.

Until we can be there, here are 23 images of Times Square at night, all taken between 1908 and 2018. A lot happened in those 110 years – two world wars, a Great Depression, some recessions, HIV, 9/11, the Great Recession, a super storm, and a whole lot of other shit – and Times Square stood strong: a tinsel testament to humankind’s tenacity and audacity; a glittering epicenter for all people. It will be so again, and will be for decades to come, come hell or high water, for better and for worse. And I look forward to being in the thick of it.

Scrollable version of the slideshow below.

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The Cat and The Corn Dog: A True Fable

 

Impatience is my most persistent character flaw. When I was younger, fantasizing about future successes, or even just eager for the latest Uncanny X-Men, my grandmother, in her no-nonsense Massachusetts accent, would advise, “Slow down, baby boy; enjoy your time now.” Her advice made me more aware of my impatience, but it didn’t diminish it; restiveness remains within me, nagging when inconvenience, real or imagined, arises.

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What Would EM Forster Say About Anonymous’ Warning?

EM Forster’s best known for novels like A Room with a View and Howard’s End, but the English author also wrote extensively about politics and civil society, including an essay called “Anonymity: An Enquiry.” Originally published in November 1925’s The Calendar of Modern Letters, Forster’s piece seems relevant today, ahead of A Warning, the forthcoming tell-all by the anonymous White House staffer who wrote last year’s New York Times op-ed, “I Am Part of the Resistance Inside the Trump Administration.” I expected freedom of speech-loving Forster to support anonymity, full stop, but his take’s more nuanced, though perhaps not nuanced enough.

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Macho Catchphrases and Ascendant Feminism, 1971-1984

Hollywood circa the 1970s and early 80s spewed forth a slew of macho catchphrases. Here are a few examples; you’ll recognize every testosterone-laden specimen:

  • “You’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?” – Harry Callahan, Dirty Harry, 1971
  • “I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.” – Vito Corleone, The Godfather, 1972.
  • “You talkin’ to me?” – Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver, 1976
  • “Go ahead, make my day.” – Harry Callahan (again), Sudden Impact, 1983.
  • “Say hello to my little friend.” – Tony Montana, Scarface, 1983.
  • “I’ll be back.” – The Terminator, Terminator, 1984.

Swashbucklers, cowboys, and tough guys had been Hollywood heroes for decades: Errol Flynn and John Wayne’s stock of masculine icons come to mind. Many even uttered catchy one-liners that became cultural mainstays, i.e. Rhett Butler’s “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” And some of said phrases were as aggressive as those above, such as The Honeymooners’ Ralph Kramden’s persistent threat of domestic abuse, “One of these days, POW!!! Right in the kisser!” But the Me Decade saw an unprecedented ejaculation of terse, violence-tinged retorts.

What drove this trend toward curt fury? Was this celluloid rage a reflection of a real-world torn asunder by Vietnam-era chaos? Did jaded, shock-inured audiences just need to be jarred and awed? Was it that Hollywood writers of that era were informed by television, a pithier media than the radio that nursed earlier scribes?  All are plausible possibilities. Yet it’s just as likely these macho one-liners were a reply to the ascendant women’s liberation movement.

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How Writing is Like Acting

Writers and actors are a lot alike. Sure, the professions play different roles in the American imagination: actors are cast as sun-kissed faces of California dreams, and writers are portrayed as solitary, often curmudgeonly creatures; actors conjure ideas of red carpet wishes and designer-clad dreams, writers a wooly cardigan and a cozy cabin, or some similarly hermetic locale. But though actors peddle in scenes and writers work in syllables, the mechanics and business of these professions are very much the same.

And while the most obvious parallel is that actors and writers are both entertainers, which explains there are so many actors who are also writers — Tina Fey, Steve Martin, Tom Hanks, and Jamie Lee Curtis, to name a few, there are more nuanced similarities, as well.

Preamble accomplished, here are 15.5 ways writers are like actors.

[Note, this is not an exhaustive list. If you have a suggestion, let me know in the comments.]

1. Proceed with Caution — There’s an old joke that every LA waiter has a headshot at the ready. The same could be said about New York baristas and novels. Yes, the waiter could have a novel and the barista a headshot, but you get the gist: Just as there are scads of young, bright-eyed ingenues vying for acting gigs, there are just as many young, bright-eyed literary types trying to get published – all absolutely sure they have “it.”

In other words, writing and acting are both crowded, competitive, and all together quixotic career paths. Success is rare, and so is financial payoff. Nantucket? More like a cramped apartment. Designer dreams? Try a thrift store knock-off.

Considering the odds of success or monetary security, it’s therefore best that aspiring writers, like their theatrical counterparts, find a plan B. Unless, of course, you want a lifetime of debt, deadlines, nary a retirement plan and, most terrifying of all, writer’s block!

2. Mission: Audition — The process is different, but actors and writers both audition for their roles/bylines, and I dare say writers’ pitches are more difficult. While actors must undergo the nerve-wracking experience of auditioning for a room full of strangers, they at least have outlets like Backstage or agents who can tell them more about the part, i.e. “Sally, a twenty-something waitress waiting for her big break after fleeing her alcoholic mother.”

Writers don’t have such luxuries. We do have Submittable, where editors post editorial asks, or maybe an outlet will announce a specific theme, but for the most part writers stumble around in the rhetorical dark, sending cold emails to editors and hoping against hope we get a reply — which is essentially an audition without the script, name recognition, or the benefit of a face-to-face meeting.

Even when you do have name recognition or a previous relationship with an editor, that’s no guarantee of publication — I was just rejected by two editors with whom I’ve worked for years.

On that note…

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Found in the LOC: Vintage Posters Celebrating Books

 

Tuesday is traditionally the day book publishers release their latest titles. No one knows why they do this on Tuesdays. Literally no one.  Some say believe it’s about optimizing best-seller results; some say that it’s to make life easy for distributors. But whatever the reason, I’m celebrating this week’s new book day with FIVE sets of vintage posters celebrating the written word, all sourced from the Library of Congress.

The first gallery is perhaps the most relevant to today: created between 1935 and 1942 by the government-backed Works Progress Administration, they urge patriotic Americans to embrace books as democratic tools. “To speak up for democracy, read up on democracy,” reads one, while another insists “Books are Weapons.”

In an era defined by a famously anti-intellectual president’s existential threat to our nation’s most storied institutions and norms, these are important reminders.

The second set of posters, born from a World War I collaboration between the Society of Illustrators and the Committee on Public Information, implores Americans to send books “over there” for our troops.

Third up: A circa 1936-1940 series of really fun WPA PSAs from the “Be Kind to Books Club.” One piece of advice: don’t gum it up!

Similarly, the fourth gallery celebrates Book Weeks from between 1949 and 1964. It’s fascinating to see the aesthetic shift over the years – and keep your eyes peeled for a piece by Maurice Sendak.

Meanwhile, the fifth and final collection, created by the National Association of Booksellers way back in the 1920s, suggests you buy books as gifts – advice I endorse any day of the week!

Read up on Democracy:

See the rest AFTER THE JUMP!

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