It is all over the news today. A call for calm, a reminder of "nonviolence", a caricature of the "thugs" who burned buildings and pelted police with rocks and bricks. Civil rights, and peaceful protests retreat, safely away so that politicians and law enforcement agencies do not have to talk about the history of violence that has been perpetrated on black people in their city for the last century. Today it is all about the burning buildings and the injured police and how the Rev. King, Jr. would have handled it, and black politicians and civil rights leaders will be cowed into "of course its wrong," "we condemn such lawlessness," "a few days ago we were peaceful" and this "is not in the spirit of our protest".
What began yesterday is not simply about one more black man (or woman, as Baltimore seems to be an equal opportunity brutalizer) being killed by police, but about how we treat black people in general, how we stand to see them live in such misery, and how little we care about their children. Now that state violence has begot street violence the state will follow it up with thousands of soldiers, more policemen, nightly curfews, "tougher" tactics and official condemnations. What will not follow is a real discussion of why the people in these Baltimore neighborhoods distrust the police so much; why a liberal state has such poverty and dysfunction; why the police force is so brutal (and so white); why instead of "partying" students let out early become aggressors; and why there is so much inner directed violence against the neighborhoods in which people live. We will chalk it up simply to "reaction" or maybe in Fox News to ghetto culture, and the President will say a few words in which he condemns the looters, reminds us of an unfair America and then shifts back to defending drone strikes and proclaiming his administration's efforts on behalf of "all Americans".
Those Baltimore neighborhoods will remain, as they did after the riots of 1968, abandoned and unreconstructed. Police will become even more abusive "because" they are now "being targeted" by gangs (black, of course).
It is the legacy of American society that state violence seems always to hide behind minority reaction; and that the life of one policeman is more significant than the lives of scores of people of color who receive no state-sponsored parade and whose deaths add up to simply a statistic.
What happened yesterday in Baltimore is a reaction to state violence in the form of police brutality, joblessness, poverty, bad schooling, neglect and social hostility. People don't riot simply because they want to loot, nor do they let their neighborhood burn just to have a camp fire. Their actions may not be rational but neither is the violence and neglect in which they live. No one needs to justify or apologize for yesterday because words do little to change the realities of inner city America. Years ago, we would say this is a wake-up call. But years of being stone deaf means the state will simply become more militarized, and people of color more alienated. But they will still have to clean up "their" mess.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Monday, April 6, 2015
Further Thoughts on my Detachment
Another benefit of this detachment that I have been on for a few month is that I see things in a broader context and have slowly begun to lose the panic that often drove me in the past. I can now not only count my blessings but also see that I have more things going for me, and have more allies than those who line up against me. This is important because we often fear, lose courage and melt away during times of conflict because we do not see what is arrayed on our side, and how much experience we have against the usual enemies and how often we've succeeded against comparable foes. Contemplation and detachment can make us more willing to accept that some things won't change the way we want them to, and the pain and struggle that we go through is a necessary partner in our journey through this life. It doesn't necessarily make it easier when we go through difficult times but it does provide us hope and the expectation that things will go better.
We can take those student evaluations, reviews of our work, professional gossip, readers' indifference, and ideological criticism for what they are: the package deal that comes with being alive and being engaged in things that we like.
While rarely overreacting I have always been sensitive to harsh criticism. My sensitivity does not drive me to lash back but often that hesitancy is more of fear of continuing the conversation than because I'm turning the other cheek. I don't think that I will ever completely lose that sensitivity but I think that more and more--and this time has helped tremendously--I am learning to shift my emotional, spiritual and mental weight in ways that I can better handle the blows that come with life. I am learning to "bob and weave" like a good boxer, but more importantly I'm relearning that humility is the best attitude.
When I was in the military and I was sick and barely able to keep up with the challenges of training, I opened my small scriptures and took time to read them every break I got and to pray and then to let things come. While a protective shield this approach to the training challenges was also an acceptance that "things happened" and I had to simply roll with the punches. I did the same thing at Valley Forge Army Hospital and in the Can Tho, Viet Nam dispensary's emergency room. But while that worked for me I did it more often as a defensive mechanism rather than as a way of life and this has meant that I've had to "relearn", "repolish" and recycle strategies out of fear or necessity and not because they flow as smoothly from my core. I have always tried to be a good person and to prepare for the challenges of life and my current situation indicates that I've done pretty good, but as I reflect on this life I realize that my responses to life have not always flowed smoothly from me. That is to be expected, it is human, but it is also a burdensome process to polish off and get those strategies in place every time there is a need. The people I most admire, famous and unknown, powerful or meek, all seem to fight their battles from their core. They don't have to outwit, out work or overpower others. In fact, they don't even have to "win" to be satisfied with their response to the challenges they face. They act with all the power, brilliance and maturity of their core principles and that often leads them to succeed against the challenges they face. This doesn't mean that they don't prepare hard or outwork others but only that they are whom they seem to be in battle, because it is what they are when they are being peacemakers or when they deal with families and friends. What we see is what they are, and much more.
I've started to dig deeper within me, to discard some habits that have never served me well, and most of all I've called a truce with myself. This doesn't mean that there aren't things that I have to change or that I struggle with but only that I am not the enemy. I am my best ally and with myself the journey of self-discovery which I'm on provides me joy even in difficult times, when I sweat, hurt or find myself seemingly "running in place".
As a writer and scholar it has been good to look at things I've done from a distance. I see the whole in a better way and have found the crevices in my work and the road that is still possible to take as I enter my mature years. I also find that I don't have to be burdened, as I was in the past, over the things that need to be done but aren't likely to get done in the near future. Because I was committed to my scholarship, my field and the people who are my community, I use to fret over the incomplete picture, and make mental notes to undertake multiple "projects" so that Mexican American/Latino history not remain incomplete. I knew I could never fill all the holes but I remained burdened by them. Call it arrogance or naiveté but it was real and while it led to many great projects and some books, it remained a thorn on my side. I don't see things that way anymore. I see myself as only one of many--some so much better than I--and it provides me a perspective on time, meaning there is a time for many things and for everyone who really matters to me. I still worry that there are not enough of "me" doing what needs to be done, but it is not a reason to be lamentful all the time. The beauty of life and scholarship is that we can be part of something important. The beauty of perspective is that we don't have to do it all or spend too much time lamenting what is not done. In some ways, this detachment has taught me that if I really am worried about something then I should do something about it. If it is not feasible, then I need to move on. And that frees me to do more of the things I actually can do well.
We can take those student evaluations, reviews of our work, professional gossip, readers' indifference, and ideological criticism for what they are: the package deal that comes with being alive and being engaged in things that we like.
While rarely overreacting I have always been sensitive to harsh criticism. My sensitivity does not drive me to lash back but often that hesitancy is more of fear of continuing the conversation than because I'm turning the other cheek. I don't think that I will ever completely lose that sensitivity but I think that more and more--and this time has helped tremendously--I am learning to shift my emotional, spiritual and mental weight in ways that I can better handle the blows that come with life. I am learning to "bob and weave" like a good boxer, but more importantly I'm relearning that humility is the best attitude.
When I was in the military and I was sick and barely able to keep up with the challenges of training, I opened my small scriptures and took time to read them every break I got and to pray and then to let things come. While a protective shield this approach to the training challenges was also an acceptance that "things happened" and I had to simply roll with the punches. I did the same thing at Valley Forge Army Hospital and in the Can Tho, Viet Nam dispensary's emergency room. But while that worked for me I did it more often as a defensive mechanism rather than as a way of life and this has meant that I've had to "relearn", "repolish" and recycle strategies out of fear or necessity and not because they flow as smoothly from my core. I have always tried to be a good person and to prepare for the challenges of life and my current situation indicates that I've done pretty good, but as I reflect on this life I realize that my responses to life have not always flowed smoothly from me. That is to be expected, it is human, but it is also a burdensome process to polish off and get those strategies in place every time there is a need. The people I most admire, famous and unknown, powerful or meek, all seem to fight their battles from their core. They don't have to outwit, out work or overpower others. In fact, they don't even have to "win" to be satisfied with their response to the challenges they face. They act with all the power, brilliance and maturity of their core principles and that often leads them to succeed against the challenges they face. This doesn't mean that they don't prepare hard or outwork others but only that they are whom they seem to be in battle, because it is what they are when they are being peacemakers or when they deal with families and friends. What we see is what they are, and much more.
I've started to dig deeper within me, to discard some habits that have never served me well, and most of all I've called a truce with myself. This doesn't mean that there aren't things that I have to change or that I struggle with but only that I am not the enemy. I am my best ally and with myself the journey of self-discovery which I'm on provides me joy even in difficult times, when I sweat, hurt or find myself seemingly "running in place".
As a writer and scholar it has been good to look at things I've done from a distance. I see the whole in a better way and have found the crevices in my work and the road that is still possible to take as I enter my mature years. I also find that I don't have to be burdened, as I was in the past, over the things that need to be done but aren't likely to get done in the near future. Because I was committed to my scholarship, my field and the people who are my community, I use to fret over the incomplete picture, and make mental notes to undertake multiple "projects" so that Mexican American/Latino history not remain incomplete. I knew I could never fill all the holes but I remained burdened by them. Call it arrogance or naiveté but it was real and while it led to many great projects and some books, it remained a thorn on my side. I don't see things that way anymore. I see myself as only one of many--some so much better than I--and it provides me a perspective on time, meaning there is a time for many things and for everyone who really matters to me. I still worry that there are not enough of "me" doing what needs to be done, but it is not a reason to be lamentful all the time. The beauty of life and scholarship is that we can be part of something important. The beauty of perspective is that we don't have to do it all or spend too much time lamenting what is not done. In some ways, this detachment has taught me that if I really am worried about something then I should do something about it. If it is not feasible, then I need to move on. And that frees me to do more of the things I actually can do well.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
The Benefits Already of Detachment
It has been a while since I last wrote in this blog and it has been a rather productive time but mostly in terms of clearing my mind, finishing ups some unfinished business and doing some of the things that I set out to do. I have not written anything significant but have looked over material that is ready for publication--or was already in the publishing "cooker"--and will probably have to do that for three other items including my memoir that is likely to be out in June. Taking a step back has allowed me to see that the last two years were rather productive and while I have not written anything recently I will have publications coming out this year. It is an accumulation of work that is the result of a steady effort to keep busy. Detaching has allowed me to see the kind of work I have been doing, to appreciate the resources made available to me and the scholarly and friendship networks that have made me a productive scholar.
It is good to count your blessings and to appreciate all that has come your way through the bounty of life. We are surely not an island unto ourselves and are constantly blessed by the efforts of others, even those who came many years before. I've learned to be a better writer in just a couple of months--or at least I think I am but won't know until I start writing seriously again--by reading those who are, and I've made some course corrections in my thinking in just a short time; but though this in itself creates the temptation to jump back into serious writing, I am resisting the urge and continuing my journey to fully detach and renew myself.
I am taking time to read more carefully, to listen more intently--though not enough for my Alex--and to see things that are right in front of me. I've seen in the last few months houses, front yards, trees, gardens, sheds, corrals and spaces that I've missed on my way to work, the store or to a relative's house. And thus have discovered how much I've missed in being so focused on "my work" and on keeping ahead of the schedule I set for myself. That new scenery has already begun to change the way I think and the way I want to write. I've had more time to play with grandkids, to converse with my children and to upgrade my friendships, and all of this has happened even though most people who know me would "swear" that I did that already. What I found is that "substance" is much harder to achieve than appearances and you can't create substance in some things when you are too preoccupied with others.
But the beauty of it all is that I am just scratching the surface of what I need to do and I'm grudgingly accepting that there is no substitute for "taking time". I have no doubt that soon enough I will be back to being a productive scholar but my hope is that when the time does come I will be a better person with a firmer idea of where I'm going and why. I have always been a late bloomer and an obsessive "preparer" who oftentimes takes too long to make progress even as I run at full speed. I'm happy with what I have done and taking time to watch and listen to myself and my past I recognized that I've done well for a kid that grew up poor in the barrio with seemingly little prospects of ever achieving any serious dreams. I've come to appreciate my scholarship and my writing and sometimes find myself thinking, "hey, this is not bad". This space and time has allowed me to unfold, unwrap and polish off much that has been waiting for a fresh new look, but also given me ideas on where to go from here.
Needless to say, I'm glad I'm doing what I'm doing even if at times there is an impulse to come back to the battlefront and shout out like a good Cuban Revolutionary "Presente"! But there will be time for that. But just now is not the time.
It is good to count your blessings and to appreciate all that has come your way through the bounty of life. We are surely not an island unto ourselves and are constantly blessed by the efforts of others, even those who came many years before. I've learned to be a better writer in just a couple of months--or at least I think I am but won't know until I start writing seriously again--by reading those who are, and I've made some course corrections in my thinking in just a short time; but though this in itself creates the temptation to jump back into serious writing, I am resisting the urge and continuing my journey to fully detach and renew myself.
I am taking time to read more carefully, to listen more intently--though not enough for my Alex--and to see things that are right in front of me. I've seen in the last few months houses, front yards, trees, gardens, sheds, corrals and spaces that I've missed on my way to work, the store or to a relative's house. And thus have discovered how much I've missed in being so focused on "my work" and on keeping ahead of the schedule I set for myself. That new scenery has already begun to change the way I think and the way I want to write. I've had more time to play with grandkids, to converse with my children and to upgrade my friendships, and all of this has happened even though most people who know me would "swear" that I did that already. What I found is that "substance" is much harder to achieve than appearances and you can't create substance in some things when you are too preoccupied with others.
But the beauty of it all is that I am just scratching the surface of what I need to do and I'm grudgingly accepting that there is no substitute for "taking time". I have no doubt that soon enough I will be back to being a productive scholar but my hope is that when the time does come I will be a better person with a firmer idea of where I'm going and why. I have always been a late bloomer and an obsessive "preparer" who oftentimes takes too long to make progress even as I run at full speed. I'm happy with what I have done and taking time to watch and listen to myself and my past I recognized that I've done well for a kid that grew up poor in the barrio with seemingly little prospects of ever achieving any serious dreams. I've come to appreciate my scholarship and my writing and sometimes find myself thinking, "hey, this is not bad". This space and time has allowed me to unfold, unwrap and polish off much that has been waiting for a fresh new look, but also given me ideas on where to go from here.
Needless to say, I'm glad I'm doing what I'm doing even if at times there is an impulse to come back to the battlefront and shout out like a good Cuban Revolutionary "Presente"! But there will be time for that. But just now is not the time.
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