I have been thinking a lot about this lately. Perhaps it is because I am a teacher and a union activist, two categories that make me a target for some on the other side politically, who having assigned me to either or both of those categories decide they need know nothing else and are prepared to ignore what I have to say - their choice and I would say their loss - or to demonize and belittle me for being in such categories while ignoring anything else.
Perhaps it is because I could be categorized as a white, upper middle-class, over-50 male - at least I am not an Anglo-Saxon or Protestant, eh? Placing me in that category ignores more than half a century of activism overcoming racial prejudice, dating back to when I first encountered it getting off a plane in Miami in December of 1956.
Some want to put others into boxes. It may be figuratively - they might want to restrict me by "boxing me in" rhetorically. Others? Is it too far fetched to see some rhetorical attacks as wanting to pub the target of such attacks into a the kind of box that is placed well under-ground, a coffin? Is it over-heated rhetoric on my part to suggest that some wish to destroy verbally - and emotionally and spiritually - those against whom they focus their rage, their anger, their harsh and destructive language?
What I am writing now is a personal statement. Consider it a challenge to myself. Shared because I often share my thoughts of various kinds with this community. Keep reading if you think it might interest you. My feelings will not be hurt if you do not.
I actually started thinking about this topic yesterday when filling out my application for a DFA scholarships to NN11 - as I noted inasking for the community's support last night, because of a serious salary cut I cannot attend without it. I am grateful for the support I did receive, and certainly would welcome more. But let me explain why applying brought me to this topic.
Part of the application asks for examples of one's political activism. Applicants are further asked about the criticism often made of bloggers that in other terms they are what can be called slacktivists - offering words, but not actions. As I age, my primary form of activism, other than that directly connected with my teaching, is through words, offered in writing and speaking. I will occasionally still make phone calls, but I no longer go out and knock on doors, not even in elections in which I can vote. I have seen some denigrate those who prefer to write, yet I could argue that our task may be to inspire or challenges others by our words, that we are far more valuable crafting language than we would be doing other things. We can be activists in many ways.
This morning, because of some connections I maintain in subsets of this community, I spent half an hour wading through some of the flame wars from yesterday. Some will have surmised that because of my self-description above the fold. I am saddened and disturbed.
In part it brings back sad memories. I was around civil rights long enough to see changes, to see some want to push others aside, others who did not share their particular point of view, or perhaps their sense of being victims. For others, it was a need to assert for themselves, to want to act independently of even well-meaning supporters they did not classify as the same as they were, regardless of how they placed people into categories, or perhaps boxes.
I saw similar patterns happening with movements advocating on behalf of those different by gender, sexual orientation, and so on.
I have been told pointedly on this site within the last year that I had nothing of value to say on GLBT issues because I was a privileged straight white male.
That, too, saddened me. That, too, reminded me of similar things I have encountered over the years.
I then step back and examine myself. As a teacher, I find I sometimes have to challenge myself to ensure that I do not begin to be dismissive of students who may not meet my expectations, but rather attempt to understand why, to see if my expectations are blinding me to the reality of that student. There I have a professional responsibility to do what I can to help that student succeed. There, and here, and everywhere, I believe I have an equivalent human responsibility to see how my words and actions and thoughts might be functioning as a barrier to my really understanding the person before me.
I am reminded of a line out of context, from Shakespeare, that the fault lies not in our stars but in ourselves.
I am insecure. I am sure it comes through in my writing here. I see it. My wife sees it.
Sometimes my insecurity contributes to distorting what otherwise might be good intentions towards others. For that I am responsible, and must take the necessary corrective actions.
On one hand, there is a part of me that likes it when others classify me in ways that assuage my insecurity. Yet against that is the feeling that I want to be seen as whole, even if the perceiving me completely means exposing my flaws, my weaknesses, my bad judgments.
I can remember in years past resenting it when people would say I only wrote about education, when some of my most impassioned pieces were on other topics. Now I realize that others may simply only read me on that topic, which while it distorts their understanding of me does not necessarily mean that they do not value what I offer them in the domain for which they give me their attention.
We categorize because it helps us make sense. But we need to be careful not to be intellectually lazy. When I taught World History, I would put a series of objects on the floor and ask students to group them into three groups, explaining why they did so. Inevitably a whiteboard marker would be put into a group with a pencil, because they were both instruments of writing. But when I inquired of students how they might group items if they did not know about writing, or in viewing these as artificacts of a culture for which there was no evidence of writing, the pencil would go with the scissors, as instrument of violence, a potential weapon. We tend to put things - and people - into categories we think we understand, and in the process often ignore pertinent information that might broaden and deepen our ability to understand.
I am honored when people ask me to join groups they are organizing. I am also reluctant. I fear being categorized. I do not want to limit how I react to others not in that group should that group have a particular point of view. I recognize that I cannot operate in isolation, that common effort is important - after all, I am the lead union rep for the teachers in my building. I want to be able to find something positive in others.
Something positive in others. Even when I am angered, perhaps righteously. Most importantly, when I have truly justifiable anger at the other. That is when it is most important, lest I be consumed by that anger.
I have every right to criticize an action, an expression. The moment I turn that into something destructive of the person behind that action, I am no longer the self I want to be.
Walk gladly across the earth answering that of God in each person I meet. That it my mantra. That is my responsibility.
I have to be able to honestly evaluate my words and actions against that standard.
Oh, I will express anger and irritation. I am human, and the words of Shylock - if you prick me, do I not bleed - are certainly applicable to me. I will lash out.
As I do not want to be limited by how you categorize me, neither should I limit my understanding of and ability to connect with you by how I categorize you.
I do not wish to be put into a box, figuratively or in reality. Not yet. I will be in my final box soon enough, having at this point lived well over half the life I will have.
I do not want others limiting what I can still do or become. Neither should I impose on others in a fashion I find distasteful for myself.
We can be fierce advocates. We should be fierce advocates for those causes we hold dear. We have not only a right but a responsibility to equally fiercely speak out in opposition to that which we abhor.
Still, the moment we are tempted to dismiss the humanity of the other once and for all, is not that then OUR failing? Or let me rephrase, since I can speak only for myself. If I reach a point of writing off forever another person, am I not diminishing myself in shutting myself off from the humanity of that person? Am I not violating what I claim to hold dear?
Putting people into categories - or is it boxes?
I know I need to tread carefully.
I do not want to lose sight of the other person.
I cannot allow myself to forget to answer that of God in her.
I must honor that of God in myself, and such is not possible if I deny it to others.
I often fail at this.
I will fail again in the future.
But I can, and will, remind myself.
Abba, What do we do here in the desert? That was the question of the young novice. And his master answered thus
We fall, we pick ourselves up, we fall, we pick ourselves up, we fall, we pick ourselves up.
I fall, and must remember to pick myself up and try again.
Those are my thoughts for this morning.
Peace.