A Hundred Years Is Too Long to Wait

Today is the anniversary of the Civil War’s opening shot. On April 12, 1861, Confederate forces fired on Fort Sumter, beginning a bombardment that would launch four years of slaughter. That war did not erupt because America had settled its deepest racial contradiction. It erupted because the country had postponed it — and postponement, in America, has a way of becoming a habit.

America has settled into a troubling rhythm: roughly every hundred years, the nation makes a major formal advance against racial injustice — only after long resistance, bitter struggle, and blood. The Declaration of Independence in 1776 gave us the principle. The 13th Amendment, ratified in 1865, abolished slavery. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 dismantled segregation and legal discrimination. None arrived cleanly or uncontested.

Start with the Declaration. Americans rightly celebrate it as the nation’s statement of human equality. But even at its creation, the promise was narrowed by political cowardice. Congress deleted Jefferson’s passage condemning slavery and the slave trade — in part to satisfy South Carolina and Georgia, and in part because northern commercial interests were implicated. The founding document offered a universal creed while shrinking from a full confrontation with human bondage. The first great American statement against inequality was compromised before the ink was dry.

Then came the century of evasion, rationalization, and bloodshed. Defenders of slavery wrapped themselves in the language of property, local control, and constitutional restraint. But the historical record is unambiguous: secession was driven by the determination to preserve slavery. Confederate vice president Alexander Stephens said so plainly — the Confederacy, he declared, rested on slavery and white supremacy as its cornerstone. Even emancipation was denounced as ruinous, lawless, and socially catastrophic. Yet the 13th Amendment, ratified in 1865, abolished slavery nationwide. It was a giant step, but one taken only after war, slaughter, and years of arguments designed to make justice seem impossible.

A century later, the country had to fight again over whether Black Americans would enjoy rights already promised on paper. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 outlawed segregation in public accommodations, addressed employment discrimination, and promoted school integration — but it did not emerge from consensus. It came after years in which Southern states and local authorities met civil rights demands with arrests, beatings, police dogs, fire hoses, and organized obstruction. In Birmingham, police attacked young demonstrators with dogs and high-pressure hoses. In Mississippi, Freedom Summer volunteers faced beatings, arrests, bombings, and murder. In Selma, state troopers brutally assaulted peaceful marchers on a bridge the whole country watched. The law passed, but force was used again and again to delay, block, and punish its moral logic.

That is the real pattern. America does move — but only after making the targets of injustice endure another generation, or three, of excuses. The 1770s gave us the promise. The 1860s abolished slavery. The 1960s dismantled legalized segregation. We should take hope from that progress, but not comfort from its pace.

A hundred years is too long to wait for another leap forward. We should not resign ourselves to hoping that the 2060s will finally bring the next great breakthrough. The pattern has repeated twice. A country that has already postponed justice through slavery, segregation, and generations of excuse-making forfeits the moral right to postpone it again. Refuse to let the pattern repeat a third time. Demand change now — not after another century of delay.

Memorial Day and the Men in Black

A Lesson in American Opportunity

 

Spoiler Alert! There are details about the movie below.

My wife, one of my daughters and I joined many others to make Men in Black III the number one movie this Memorial Day weekend. We enjoyed it; in our collective opinion, it was better than II but not as good as the original.

But there was a moment when the fun turned to unease. When the world seemed suddenly unnatural (for someone who deals with aliens all day), Agent J (Will Smith) went to the apartment of his partner, Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones). The door opened, however, to a Jewish family. (I could see a Mezuzah – a prayer rolled up in a small decorative case - affixed to the doorframe.) Overcome with a strange craving for chocolate milk (because of a change in the timeline of history), he took a cup from one of the children. The child then exclaimed something along the lines of, “Mommy the President drank my chocolate milk!”

I let out an audible laugh and then I heard a grandmotherly African American woman in the audience yell, “Racist!” There were other people that laughed, but I was among those closest to her. I couldn’t tell if her remark was directed at me or the screen. Either way, her reaction was the subject of discussion on the car ride home.

Our first thoughts were with the woman in the theater. We felt bad about her response to the movie scene – that she heard prejudice, that she was hurt. Why? Did she think that the line was akin to saying “black people all look alike”? We won’t ever know. Needless to say I wouldn’t have laughed if I thought it was a racist comment nor do I think Will Smith would have tolerated being the target of a slur. (And it’s hard to imagine the key people behind the movie – Steven Spielberg, Barry Sonnenfeld and Etan Cohen – would be so insensitive.)

Though we can’t deny the woman her feelings, we felt quite the opposite. Here’s a little child who sees an African American man and thinks “President.” How great is that? Not sports star, not janitor, not criminal. President. The three of us in the car reveled in this. Despite the sad and destructive political division in our country, we have nonetheless reached a major turning point. If there’s any stereotyping going on here, I’d take it this version.

It’s about time, of course, and there’s still further to go in erasing intolerance, but our country has come a long way. It’s a long way pioneered by civil rights activists and progressive politicians who wanted to see the realization of our founding vision. These principles have been upheld and defended by courageous civilians, and by our men and women in uniform. So, it’s fitting that on this Memorial Day we can again salute those in the military who have given their lives to protect our freedoms and the American ideal.

Between blog posts, I invite you to follow me @pauloestreicher.

What's in a Name?

A Story of Discrimination

The Senate hearings for Associate Justice-designate Sonia Sotomayor have been full of talk about discrimination -- her "wise Latina" comment and the case involving white New Haven firefighters, for example. It reminded me about a piece I wrote on gender discrimination several years back but never published. I'm sharing it with you now:

I can remember when, a few years ago, an acquaintance heard that my wife and I were expecting a baby girl. It was information I was delighted to have circulated but I learned quickly that he didn’t see the news in the same light. “You must be disappointed,” he said. I felt a viceral jolt with those four words. I couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth and into my ears. So, I asked him to repeat it. He attempted to clarify by saying, “You know, with this one you’ll have four daughters. Are you OK with it?”

Yes, my wife and I have four kids -- one shy of an all female basketball team. (No, we don't plan to fill the Center position.) Each of my children have their own unique gifts but share savvy, humor and compassion. I get comments all the time about their beauty and good manners. Unfortunately, people also feel quite uninhibited in sharing and spreading their prejudice.

Whether on a city street or a suburban sidewalk, in an airplane, at a mall, in a museum or while eating at a restaurant, people have felt free to approach me and my children (yes, with the kids surrounding me) and ask, “Are you still trying for the boy?” or “Did you get someone upstairs angry at you? Ha, ha!” Someone at an elementary school event asked, “Do you feel less of a man, not having a son to pass things down to?” Even some not-to-be-named relatives wondered out loud "How can you handle all of those girls?”

Years ago, as a younger father not wanting to offend anyone, I laughed off the insults by chuckling an inoffensive reply about how lucky I was to have such a wonderful family. Over the years, though, my standard retort got less tolerant and more admonishing. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” “What century are you living in?" "We’ve taught our daughters that they can learn, do and accomplish anything.” “I can tell you honestly that I never hoped for a boy… just a healthy human!”

I can't answer why strangers feel compelled to offer up their misguided attempts at conversation and social commentary, but there’s a larger issue here. People don’t think about how their words can hurt children – and not just the girls. There’s a clear message being sent to the boys, too. These are exactly the kind of ignorant, damaging messages that support an environment of ongoing discrimination and bias. On a different scale, societal or religious indifference to – or acceptance of – unequal gender valuation has translated into female infanticide and genital mutilation.

When I read that an Egyptian father stabbed his seven children, murdering four, because he had no sons, my heart sank and my blood boiled. Where do we start? How do we get people to gain some insight and change behavior? In the schools? When one of my daughters was asked to draw a scientist, she was the only one in the class who thought to draw a female. In the entertainment media? Not with reality shows and shock jocks objectifying women. At the doctor’s office? When another daughter -- about eight years old at the time -- was being examined by a pediatrician, he said to her that “your daddy told me he wanted four boys instead.” She responded confidently, "No he didn't." We never went back.

For any chance at breaking the cycle, the best first course, I believe, is to start at home. Home needs to be a safe harbor. It must be a place where our children can expect best behaviors from us. We need to be more active commentators about discrimination, and strategize with our kids on how to advocate for themselves and others.

Home for one person, though, was where he received a badge of discrimination to wear for the rest of his life. I met a man while on a business trip who would most certainly have another name if prevailing attitudes were different. He introduced himself as Bingo. I thought he was making a joke until he said it was truly his legal name. He told me that his father desperately wanted a son and after five daughters… Bingo! His wish had come true.

Perhaps one day I’ll meet a woman named Bingo.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Between blog posts, you can follow me on Twitter.