tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5 2008-05-14T15:13:13Z J. W. Wiley has possibly orchestrated and engaged in more conversations about diversity and social justice than anyone else in the North Country of New York. He is as eager to get in your ear as he is to have you share your thoughts. Movable Type 3.33 tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.503 2008-05-14T15:07:12Z 2008-05-14T15:13:13Z

Should I settle for the rationalization that women have been oppressed in such a sundry of ways within our society that they deserve these little societal perks that are off limits to men?

J.W. Wiley I wandered into a few different thoughts and conversations lately that I thought I would share with you to see what you thought. Perhaps it was the fact that this is graduation week for many colleges around the country (including SUNY Plattsburgh). Perhaps it was an easing of tremendous tension from having approximately seven significant weights lifted from my shoulders over the last couple of weeks. Perhaps it is just my nature! Anyway, let’s get this party started…. Finally, the summer has arrived (okay, I know technically that it’s spring, but after our long winters up here in the North Country of NY, any hint of sun has me putting on suntan lotion, and I’m Black). So, I am ready to wear less clothes and tighten up the body. Am I alone in struggling with exactly how much I celebrate the change in the weather with how much I can actually reveal? I look at women in the workforce wearing shoes that show their toes, sundresses that allow their bodies to benefit from fewer constraints, blouses that do the same. Yes, if I wear shoes that show my toes, clothing that allows my body to benefit from fewer constraints, etc. I feel like I am doing something wrong. Am I tripping? Is this a double standard? Is this sexism in some form that we just don’t discuss? Should I settle for the rationalization that women have been oppressed in such a sundry of ways within our society that they deserve these little societal perks that are off limits to men? Or, should I wear my plaid shorts, sandals, and open collar shirts and get over my anxiety that people won’t take me seriously because men just don’t show their toes in the workplace. What are your thoughts? When is the last time you considered your mortality? I remember first considering mine when I read an article in the Los Angeles Sentinel (a Black owned newspaper that addressed Black folks’ reality). The article stated something about a Black male youth having more of a chance of surviving on the front of WWII than reaching the age of 21 in South Central L.A. From that point on, I became somewhat fixated on this thing called “death.” Then I became preoccupied with the fact that my father, who had been murdered, died at 37 years of age. His father died young, and his grandfather died young. All of their deaths were violent. Couple that with a dream I had that I was never able to shake which had me dying at age 27. Well, suffice it to say as I approached 27 I was freaking out, paranoid, essentially immobilized in fear that if I ventured too far from the safety of my residence I would be increasing the possibility of something drastic occurring. I got through that period then really didn’t think about it again until I was about 36 looking at 37. Yes, there I went again. Suffice it to say, I experienced my 37th birthday with no major incidents and as Elton John once sang in a song, I’m still standing. Have any of you ever experienced these types of thoughts before. Did you experience your thoughts as a result of your life situation(s)? Do you think our diverse realities contribute to our sense of awareness of our fragile mortality? I wonder if younger men and women look down the road and engage, at any level, the fact that the road ends at some point, at least in the context of life as we know it. It would seem apparent that poverty might contribute to someone asking themselves one of those big questions “is it worth it all?” I’m curious though does wealth breed the same thoughts, albeit for different reasons? Do you think thoughts about our mortality might differ along ability and racial lines? It might seem like a far-fetched question, but if you look around you and see most of the adults in your life who reflect a reality similar to yours, dying at 45-50 from ill health, even though some of it may appear to be self-imposed (though the reasons we drink alcohol, eat the foods we eat, etc. may be worthy of discussion themselves) or genetic, it may have an effect on your perspective on mortality. Lastly, as I wander away to enjoy this beautiful summer day (I know, I know, its spring) is it okay if I play my way if it doesn’t get in your way in any way? Whose to say your morality should keep me at bay. Should I allow other’s shortsightedness to prevent me from entering the fray, undercutting the pay I can receive from life if I dare to see it my way and muster the energy to not succumb or stay locked into what could be for me a dysfunctional mode of behavior. Or, should I listen to what they say because it actually might sway J (W that is) if he takes the time to contextualize what they say, after all, it just may make sense, if I’m not dense! I know, this was too immense, perhaps too intense, made no sense, and you read it all with no recompense. What can I say, this is what you get sometimes when you wander with J (W that is). Hey, I'm human and prone to bouts of silliness as well! tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.497 2008-05-02T11:55:11Z 2008-05-02T14:00:57Z

I am trying to fight back tears as I retell this story to you and I am not winning. It hurt to think he was missing and that some foul play might have happened. It hurt to hear that he was actually gone. It hurt to focus on the fact that this young man wouldn’t be seen again on this earth by anyone, especially those who loved him.

J.W. Wiley The other day in the Examining Diversity through Film (EDTF) course I co-teach at SUNY-Plattsburgh we watched a film clip from a movie that showed a supervisor, a man in a position of power, taking advantage of a younger man who wasn’t necessarily sure of himself and was looking to be mentored. Because of his lack of confidence, the young man presented himself as someone who could be manipulated easily. He was manipulated by the man in power and it made for one of the most humiliating scenes the class and I have seen in a movie this semester, if ever. The scene itself, gripping with intensity for most, was nonetheless greeted by some in the classroom with snickers and laughter. I was caught off guard and appalled at the same time. I had seen this scene over and over again, even used it in different workshops from time to time. So it is no understatement to say that witnessing this reaction to someone being so thoroughly denigrated was not easy. A bit thereafter in unpacking the film clip—which was centered on the often problematic notion of privilege—our discussion eventually turned a certain corner and I asked the classroom of 100 plus students what was so funny. I am a passionate communicator who thinks somehow that being passionate isn’t necessarily a problem, as long as it is managed. In this case I may have mismanaged my moment. I have heard people talk about how there is nothing more painful than losing a child. As most of you know I have children, and can’t imagine any of them out of my life. But as a college professor, I never thought my connection with students could be profound enough to make me feel tremendous grief over one of my students, until recently. When I returned from my winter holidays I was overwhelmed to discover that a young man who had taken my African American Culture course, Joshua Szostak, was missing. Unfortunately I came to this realization when I entered Kehoe and saw his picture on one of the doors. I can’t begin to tell you how devastated I was. A few weeks later I went to Albany on business and was again greatly thrown off balance when I saw posters of Josh posted on walls all around the Albany train station. It is a funny thing that we as humans do when we know something is amiss, but try to deny it. In my heart I was terrified for Josh, and his family. Over the next few months images of him occasionally visited me, but like most people, my life took over and I found my way back into my flow. And then it happened! Two weeks ago, I was over in Burlington at UVM and my phone beeped. I recognized the text from one of the EDTF Teacher’s assistants, but almost didn’t look at it because I was in class. Earlier that day, right before our class, she and I had spoken of Josh (whom as one of her best friends she affectionately called Stag), her pointing out to me that one of the reasons she had taken the EDTF class was his recommendation. Well, her text message simply said “You know how we were talking about Stag today …they found his body in the Hudson today.” I was so overwhelmed with grief, pain, shock, angst, anger, loss, and emotion. I just wanted to get up and leave the classroom. I was immobilized for a moment and then realized that I probably should respond to the young woman who had been kind enough to fight through her emotion to share with me what had happened to her friend and my student. Through holding back tears amidst my doctoral cohort I responded to her text with one word, “Damn!” I am trying to fight back tears as I retell this story to you and I am not winning. It hurt to think he was missing and that some foul play might have happened. It hurt to hear that he was actually gone. It hurt to focus on the fact that this young man wouldn’t be seen again on this earth by anyone, especially those who loved him. Imagine fast forwarding from that Tuesday when I received the text, to three days later, and it’s now Friday. The students have laughed at one person getting oppressed by another, and for the first time ever, I couldn’t take this level of insensitivity. I went to inquire about the reason why some of them laughed, and couldn’t get a word out of my mouth, nor could I see a single one of the 100 plus students because of how heavily I was sobbing. It must have shocked all the students and my colleague, but there was nothing I could do, except try to explain the sudden outburst of tears, which took me a moment to do because I literally couldn’t speak for about ten seconds, which feels like an eternity when 100 people are staring into your face. I told the students that I was crying because listening to some of them laughing at one individual inflicting pain on another was extremely disappointing to me as one of their professors. With my eyes completely drenched I told the class of a young man whose body had just been found in the Hudson River only days before. I asked how many of them knew him, or of him. I told them how this young man was made of different stuff. I shared with them how he was one of only a few young white males who had ever taken my African American Culture course. From what I understand more don’t take it due to their inability to see a need to know more about African Americans. I am told by many of my white students that the prevailing question that comes from their white peers is: Why are you taking an African American Culture course? This question is so fascinating to me that it has often inspired me to ask my students why they take the class. Josh took the course because he was interested in learning about people. He was not the best student in terms of the quality of his work. However, in terms of his intellectual curiosity to explore differences outside of himself, he was phenomenal. On numerous occasions he stayed after class just to talk. We would talk about his perspective on a reading, or an observation of black folk that was consistent/inconsistent with something he had previously thought. We basically just rapped. I remember on one occasion he handed me a CD he had burnt for me on some old school African American artists, almost as if to better acquaint me with my own culture. It was the contrast between thoughts of this endearing young man who left us far too early and thoughts of a class laughing at someone’s torment that took me into my emotional turmoil. Looking back on it, it wasn’t fair of me to compare anyone to someone else. Somehow in that moment in class when I cried deeply for the loss of one of the classiest young people I had ever had the pleasure of teaching, all my perspective exited my body and all I wanted was to let everyone know that in some major way we needed to collectively pause and acknowledge the passing of someone who was truly capable of caring. As I slowly regained my composure I noticed that my class was eerily silent. I realized then that most of them had probably never seen one of their professors crying. I also realized that a great many of them were caught up in my emotion. They also may have been crying for the loss of one of their own, or perhaps crying for a professor that they somewhat care for, or perhaps crying because they recognized how fragile life is, and that with a sleight twist of fate, that could have been any of them. Regardless of the reason, for a fleeting moment I was ashamed of myself. Just as shame threatened to dominate me I caught my breath, and ended the emotional onslaught. Later during the screening of a film clip I would have to leave class because my emotions got the best of me once again. I thought I had it all under control finally only to have tears race down my face repeatedly as I wrote this blog posting. Perhaps my strategy is to talk about it to the point where it provides me closure. Or perhaps subconsciously it is to entice my community to wander with me into a very different space that even I don’t often go to. I will end my rambling now and thank those of you who took the time to read this lengthy homage to one of my youngbloods, one of our youngbloods. May he rest in peace! tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.489 2008-04-20T04:01:04Z 2008-04-26T04:41:44Z

Can you even imagine how engaging the conversation may have been to have been a part of a large audience unpacking the Wizard of Oz or It’s a Wonderful Life or Imitation of Life for their educational and societal merits?

J.W. Wiley Okay, so I have a reputation for sharing my wandering with my readership, hence the name of my blog. Well, I must share my thoughts about a new venture that SUNY Plattsburgh’s Center for Diversity, Pluralism, and Inclusion (CDPI) is excitingly close to launching in partnership with two local high schools, with a third really applying a flattering level of pressure to be included. Starting next semester there is a strong possibility that two North Country High Schools will be invested in promoting diversity and social justice throughout their high schools. These schools are truly attempting to make huge statements about how much they value the differences that exist amongst their students. In addition they are also making significant statements to their communities that before we can truly begin to think in logical sense about being a part of a global society we need to develop more progressive ways to like if not love our neighbors. I can’t even imagine how much better my life would have been if I had been immersed in conversations centering on respect, promoting leadership, unpacking xenophobia (the fear of strangers/unknown/difference), and the irony of hypocrisy. How different might your adolescent years have been if you had monthly film series that explored differences through popular culture images and then upon the film’s conclusion the lights came on and everyone talked about it? Can you even imagine how engaging the conversation may have been to have been a part of a large audience unpacking the Wizard of Oz or It’s a Wonderful Life or Imitation of Life for their educational and societal merits? How different might your world view be if you understood at fourteen what some adults still haven’t figured out, that respect isn't equivalent to disrespect? Any notion of superiority between two young people that is exacerbated by friends, family, or a school system that doesn’t take the time to challenge such actions is problematic. It situates the so-called superior youth to participate in bullying, as the active bully, along with the inactive bully (bystander(s)), while relegating the so-called inferior youth(s) to victim status. A High School version of the general education course Examining Diversity through Film will be one of the centerpieces of this initiative. This class immerses students in six concentrated themes for two week periods. The themes that can be covered at the high school level may differ, but at SUNY Plattsburgh we cover ability, race, gender, sexual orientation, socio-economic class, and privilege. Currently this class is taught in two sections, with a third being added next semester to capitalize on the interest from SUNY Plattsburgh’s Education Department. In its seventh semester we have already had as guest faculty Provost Bob Golden, previous Provost Tom Moran, Deans Kathie Lavoie, Cerise Oberman, and David Hill rotating through the class. A nursing professor, Anne Bongiorno was the first to finish all the themes offered in the course and will be teaching it on-line this summer. The chair of the general education committee, James Armstrong has rotated through as well as college historian Doug Skopp. Jean Ann Hunt, Jean Mockry, Susan Mody, and Lynn Schlesinger have all been through the class multiple times. As a matter of fact it is Dr. Hunt who will be co-teaching the newly added third section next semester with Kevin Pearson, a previous student in the class as well as TA. Michele Carpentier, Cat Young, Amy Schlagel, Mike Baumgartner, Steve Matthews, Nancy Allen, Lori Walters Kramer, and David Stone have all rotated through a theme in the class. The current SA President, Executive Vice President, two Vice Presidents, and many Senators have taken and served as TAs for the class. The previous student association president also took the class. As a matter of fact, if you are a scholar affiliated with the Institute for Ethics in Public Life (IEPL) you now must rotate through this class since CDPI and IEPL are in partnership on this initiative. There is really no understating the fact that relative to EDTF at SUNY Plattsburgh, when we built it (Professor Deb Light and I), they came. Have you scheduled your rotation yet? Kudos must go out to two local heroes (you know who you are) for advocating throughout their school districts for the opportunity to partner with CDPI in bringing the High School CDPI (HSCDPI) to their districts. Their superintendents also should be lauded for buying into the vision of these two principals. Kudos to the two high school teachers from a remote school that journey all the way to Plattsburgh twice a week to take the class so that they can teach a version of it at their respective school. Kudos to retiring Provost Bob Golden’s for his support on the initiative, which has been unwavering. And everyone should be celebrating a young man from Long Island who, as graduate assistant to CDPI, came up with this visionary idea. While I shouldn’t name the potential future partners until contracts are signed, I can give a straight up shout out to Kevin Pearson for his brainchild. KP, good looking out! You single handedly may have lit a spark that lights a new way for our North Country high school students. What are your thoughts on the impact a High School CDPI might have had in your life when you contrast it to the reality of not having had one? What are your thoughts on how it might affect our communities? What are your thoughts? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.483 2008-04-03T08:49:31Z 2008-04-03T08:52:01Z

Is it possible to love someone who appears to not love anyone (even though they claim to somehow love you)?

J.W. Wiley Everything is possible, right? Do you actually believe this overtly used phrase? While it may apply to most things, does it apply to most things that we might associate with romantic love? Well, read on, think about it, and tell me. I am curious about the possibilities! Is it possible to love someone very much heavier/shorter than you and not feel as if you are being scrutinized for your taste and lack of options instead of being heralded for the conviction of your choice? Is it possible to love two people simultaneously? Is it possible to be in love with two people simultaneously? What is the difference between these two loves? Of course there is the odd case when one person is actually very much in love with two people but in general it may be more the case that the love is not equivalently being distributed. More to the point it may be the case that while in love with both, the love for one is growing while it is ebbing with the other one. Is it possible to love someone outside of your race/class and not encounter pity (she/he couldn’t do any better), contempt (look at those two losers), or concern (their kids are going to have a tough life). Is it possible to experience a socially ostracized love and not be dramatically scarred? Is it possible to love anyone without someone having an opinion of it (with the irony of the fact that the person who is casting stones at your love was previously hit by rocks herself)? Is it possible to love a little when you are loved a lot? Is it possible to love a lot when you are loved a little? Is it possible to love someone from afar, someone off limits to you for various reasons, loving them beyond the incredulous innuendo, unfounded rumors created by insecure people, and beyond busybodies, and have that love sustained? Is it possible to love someone who doesn’t love himself? Is it possible to love someone who really doesn’t love you? Is it possible to love someone who appears to not love anyone (even though they claim to somehow love you)? Is it possible to love anyone, someone, or everyone? Why? Why not? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.476 2008-03-25T13:52:44Z 2008-03-25T13:56:26Z

I know my son still does and says things that wouldn’t make me proud, as I am sure I still do. Nevertheless, his awareness and articulation of certain social injustices is probably more advanced than most his age and bodes well for the possibility that he will become better able to transcend some of his potential blind spots and insensitivities.

J.W. Wiley I recently visited southern California where I had the chance to have a one-on-one conversation with Z, the 20 year old son of two of my dearest friends. What would make that conversation special enough for me to want to share it with the Wiley Wandering crew? Well, sometimes you just know you are heading somewhere special, even before the journey begins. Approaching 21 years ago, my two dear friends were pregnant with their first born. Due to a series of mishaps, their first child was born with cerebral palsy. Today this very intelligent, witty, charming young man, now a high school graduate and college student, doesn’t have any problems understanding the world he lives in, but that world doesn’t always necessarily understand him. Case in point, on a beautiful 76 degree day in Rancho Cucamonga, California I approached him in his family’s driveway while he was waiting for a van to pick him up for his day’s activities and asked him where he was going. He answered me, but it took me quite some time to understand what he had actually said. I would guess this, and he would dismiss that guess with a head shake, I would guess that, and again he would dismiss my guess with a kind, but emphatic head shake. As Z and I were attempting to align our communication, my eleven year old son joined us for the walk he and I had planned to go on. He witnessed some of our engagement, then Z’s ride picked him up, and my son and I embarked on our bonding moment. As we walked I asked him how it was for him to communicate with Z. He told me he had no difficulties communicating with Z. Curious about whether he might be overstating the situation I asked him if he understood Z. He ensured me he was comfortable with the fact that their communication was good. I then asked him if his relationship with Z had influenced the way he saw others that were different from him. He said yes! He then talked a great deal about how he had no tolerance for kids who used mean spirited language like retard. I listened to my little man with pride as he told me a few stories about how he challenges other kids about the things they say. Now, I am not naïve. I know my son still does and says things that wouldn’t make me proud, as I am sure I still do. Nevertheless, his awareness and articulation of certain social injustices is probably more advanced than most his age and bodes well for the possibility that he will become better able to transcend some of his potential blind spots and insensitivities. Do you think, while exposure is not closure, we can avoid aversion with an attempted immersion into other’s realities? What makes you think this? What are your stories that serve as examples? How might we improve our world by taking the time to examine the realities/worlds of others? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.472 2008-03-17T07:19:25Z 2008-03-17T07:32:56Z

“But Spitzer was stupid. He could have had women, many of them, and never had problems if he had game.” I was caught off guard with his assertion of Spitzer needing game to avoid the situation he was in. I’m curious as to what some of you may think he meant by Spitzer not having “game.”

J.W. Wiley So, I am in a cab on a Friday night at about midnight. I’m on my way to a downtown Buffalo hotel, where I will do two presentations Saturday, one in the morning for a group of Nursing faculty and the other presentation will be in the afternoon for a group of students. I was a bit tired, because I had worked most of the night before on an analysis of survey results for a company I consult to, as well as graded papers for the Examining Diversity through Film course I co-teach at SUNY Plattsburgh. Friday itself had not been grueling, but just busy. You know those days where your phone just rings, and it seems everywhere you turn you are in a conversation with someone. Not that those conversations aren’t energizing, but have enough of them and your energy will nevertheless begin to drop. The cab driver was an older man, probably around sixty, very witty, quite charming, and on his way to retirement. He described himself as only a weekend driver now, essentially semi-retired, and Italian, which made me an honorary Italian for the duration of the ride because he continually and very comfortably called me “brother.” I liked that! We were chit-chatting and he was bringing up different topics for me to weigh in on since he had earlier asked what I did and I told him college professor/administrator, consultant, lecture/presenter. When I told him I taught diversity/philosophy courses and named some of them, I don’t think he heard anything after I said Romance, Sex, Love, and Marriage. That led him to ask me about the recent gubernatorial happenings within New York State. It is a funny thing to discuss the Spitzer situation alone, in the company of men. After I weighed in and revealed my excitement about the new opportunities that lie ahead for New York State with a doubly underrepresented person accepting the mantle of leadership, thus spoke the sagacious driver: “But Spitzer was stupid. He could have had women, many of them, and never had problems if he had game.” I was caught off guard with his assertion of Spitzer needing game to avoid the situation he was in. I’m curious as to what some of you may think he meant by Spitzer not having “game.” What is the game that Spitzer needed to have to have avoided his situation? I also wondered how different our conversation might have been if I had been accompanied by a female colleague. Would the cabby’s disdain for Spitzer’s actions have surfaced in more of a politically correct way, or not at all? Would the cabby have been more judgmental in terms of Spitzer’s morality if a woman had been in on the conversation between us? Why would a woman’s presence have changed the dynamic of a reaction to Spitzer’s infidelity? Lastly, how would American society have treated Hillary different if as a married woman she had purchased the services of a male escort? And let's pretend she didn't owe Bill any payback! tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.466 2008-03-05T05:59:21Z 2008-03-05T06:08:09Z

How is a person that you find visually engaging while she/he is comfortably dropping pearls of wisdom consistently, stealthily and seductively not somehow entering and exiting the realm of sexy?

J.W. Wiley How often do we really ask our self if our interpretation of romance is socially constructed around our gender? When you think about romance what is it that comes to mind? For me it is Humphrey Bogart’s Rick Blane forfeiting the opportunity to escape a dangerous political situation with the love of his life Ilsa Lund in the Academy Award winning Best Picture, Casablanca! What made that moment romantic is somewhat morbid, but none the less, provocatively sexy. Bogart’s Rick tells Bergman’s Ilsa that their love is not meant to be because it stands in the way of them both making a significant contribution to the possibility of a better world. A love that is as deep as theirs could only be ended by some major catastrophe. To watch them both experience the pain of a loss of their one true love— with a recognition that it needed to happen—brought a painful appreciation of their poetically tragic situation. It also makes one ponder the question is love sweeter in our memory when it can’t be fulfilled, or is short-lived? Perhaps more interesting than that question is this one, what would a feminist Ilsa’s reaction be to Rick’s overtures? What is your definition of romance? How important is romance and sex, romance and love, and/or romance and marriage to one another? .In the Philosophies on Romance, Sex, Love, & Marriage class that I teach at SUNY Plattsburgh, we watch various film clips that accentuate the readings with visual images which frame the four themes we cover in the class. In “Out Of Sight” George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez somewhat mirror Bergman and Bogart’s characters’ extremely romantic, albeit unattainable love. In “Feeling Minnesota” Cameron Diaz and Keanu Reeves buck tradition and serious odds by stealing away together. In “Love Jones” Nia Long and Larenz Tate weather miscommunication and their own insecurities, finally succumbing to the habit of love. In “Bound” two women intimately discover one another and then conspire to rob and exploit the mob to better situate their opportunities. In “About Last Night”—originally titled “Sexual Perversity in Chicago”—Demi Moore and Rob Lowe overcome backbiting friends to arrive in a better space. What all these scenarios have in common is the fact that during all of their journeys they experienced a plethora of romantic moments. What are the romantic moments that you have experienced or witnessed during your life? What are the films that forever frame the romantic moment? What are the songs that transport you to a romantic place. Does LTD’s “Love Ballad” appear on your list of romantic songs? How about Billy Joel’s “I Love You Just the Way You Are,” Brenda Russell’s “Get Here” or Marvin Gaye’s “Come Get to This?” Perhaps my notion of romance will vary greatly from a woman’s, an Asian male’s, a differently abled person, a lesbian, an impoverished or wealthy couple, or a person originating from a First People’s (Indigenous) perspective. As an able bodied-heterosexual-petit bourgeoisie-Black-African American male I think provocative conversation with like minded people passionate about their philosophical perspectives is exhilarating if not outright titillating. How is a person that you find visually engaging while she/he is comfortably dropping pearls of wisdom consistently, stealthily and seductively not somehow entering and exiting the realm of sexy? What is the reality that you originate from and how does your concept of romance differ from the person you just passed? Why don’t you help others visit the panoply of possibilities for considerations of romance by taking the time to paint a picture of romance that shows exactly how different the concept can be to a wide array of people? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.459 2008-02-26T21:22:21Z 2008-02-27T06:58:08Z

Conversely, as an identifier traditionally directed at African-Negro-niggra-colored-Afro American-black-Black-African Americans, it is hard to not associate it with any negative attribute of people who “fit the description.”

J.W. Wiley After doing six “Nigger-word” workshops in two days all over Seattle here I was introducing myself to a table of four highly intelligent, very cool, extremely witty, visually engaging women. My buddy, Dr. Eddie Moore Jr. and I had been invited to join this eclectic group of professional women for dinner and drinks at Wasabi Sushi in Seattle’s Belltown district after one of our presentations. Because we had arrived somewhat fashionably late they had to relocate from a smaller table to a table that was only slightly larger with the two of us joining them. I decided to demonstrate how considerate I could be by introducing myself to them and apologizing to them for the inconvenience they would be experiencing at our expense. When I extended my hand and said "Hello, I am J.W. and I just wanted to introduce myself and apologize for any inconvenience,” one of the women said "Did you say your name was J-man?" I said "What?" Her friends were all shocked as well as floating between some level of embarrassment and laughter! I looked at her and then repeated what her friend had just asked her. “Did you just call me J-man?” Now I need to tell you that they don’t come too much more chill than this woman. Where most people would have disappeared from what many would label a racially verbal gaffe, unlike that deer lost in the headlights, she looked directly at me and with the slyest undercurrent of a laugh, said “But I thought you said your name was J-man? How is that wrong?” Park and Ride is?” Eddie and I, actually on a break from doing one “Nigger-word” workshop and just a couple of hours away from doing another, looked at each other and chuckled a stifled, heavy hearted, laugh at the tragicomic moment we had just experienced. Can you relate, or have you ever had a similar moment? Like comedian Dave Chappelle says at the end of his infamous skit “The Niggar Family,” “This racism is killing me.” Okay, so back to Eddie, the women folk, and me. The lovely woman who had referred to me as J-man, turned out to be amazing, as did her sister (both Canadian), the woman who orchestrated the dinner, and their feisty red headed friend from high school, also Canadian. We consistently revisited the moment amongst martinis and multiple shots of unfiltered sake that was described by these bodacious women in ways that I can’t go into during the family hour. We actually talked, laughed, assessed, kidded, teased, considered, unpacked, dismissed, cajoled, and digressed. While we only spent about 30 minutes in total ever discussing the “J-man moment,” we probably brought everything to the conversation on J-man and its subsequent implications that most would bring, except ridicule. We hung out in this bar for 210 minutes (3 ½ hours, for those of you who got tripped out about how I chose to give you the time). Everyone was chill, even in the passionate articulation of a point. That was really fascinating. It was like catching lightning in a bottle. It may not happen again, and most will never experience it. At the end of the day though, the J-man moment still fascinates me for both its simplicity and complexity. Why do you think that is? ]]> tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.449 2008-02-20T06:18:48Z 2008-02-22T21:47:02Z

His dropping an unsolicited memento off by my office, to which I neglected to say thank you to him for, and my not making it to his friends big birthday celebration were enough for him to privately tongue lash me and interpret the entire situation as a major piece of disrespect on my part. I had to ask myself if his age was a contributing factor to my possible procrastination!

J.W. Wiley Okay, so here is the context! Recently I traveled to Seattle, Washington, to co-present six “N-word” sessions with a very good friend and colleague of mine, Dr. Eddie Moore Jr. Now, you can’t even imagine what a trip (yes, a journey) that was! We engaged the City of Seattle, a community college, a private K-12 school, an organization of professional educators, a large, underrepresented High School, and a community center all in two days. More importantly, the conversation that we immersed all these different groups in was one that almost all of them had never had outside of their comfort zone. Black folk do not discuss with White folk the pain and/or pleasure they find in using the N-word . Mexicans, Asians, and First Peoples don’t discuss their take on the N-word with others. Many White folk seldom if ever examine the moral implications of their bystander status when others use the term around them. But you best believe, all of these groups have a take on this problematic word and it would blow you away to be in an extended conversation with Eddie and I. We are two like minded people when it comes to our passion for social justice, but we are light years away from one another in terms of our ideology of its problematic nature, as well as how use of the word may suggest something about certain types of people that it doesn’t suggest about others! Eddie is the founder of one of the fastest growing conferences in the country, The White Privilege Conference. Before some of you get too uncomfortable about the name of the conference and what it might entail (though that might be a sign that you have some things you may need to explore, if not address about yourself) this is a conference that attracts a who’s who of white scholars committed to the social justice movement (Peggy Macintosh, Robert Jensen, Jean Kilbourne, James Loewen, Jane Elliott) as well as the usual suspects of underrepresented scholars (bell hooks, Cornel West, Michael ‘Eric Dyson, Lee Mun Wah). Suffice it to say, this conference is large and getting larger. Eddie as the architect has grown quite large himself and so it is real cool for me to have the opportunity to hang with my homeboy, a burgeoning (if not already arrived) superstar himself. Plattsburgh had the opportunity to see Eddie. He came to town and joined me in doing the “N-word” at SUNY Plattsburgh. On my way to Seattle I departed from Burlington. I sat next to an elderly White woman on my first plane. If I had to guess her age she may have been in her late 60s early 70s. We initially chatted over Delta's tight scheduling and then further bonded when she shared with me details of her previous travel history. I sat and chatted with this woman thinking to myself what a strange world we live in. Here we are today, this beautiful elderly White woman and I laughing and chatting away. 50 years ago we wouldn’t have been able to even sit next to one another. 20 years ago I wouldn’t have said a word to her out of thinking we had nothing to talk about. The other day we were two people who for a moment tapped into our humanity and rolled with it! I changed planes in Cincinnati and amazingly enough, encountered an elderly Black woman. I was grading papers for a class and I heard an elderly woman’s voice asking me if I could help her. I looked up to see an elderly Black woman needing help with opening a breakfast container. She must have been in her late 70s early 80s. Later, she would request my assistance again opening a water bottle. Beyond those two exchanges the only other conversation that took place between us was her apologizing for all her requests for help! What a sweet woman! The difference between the seeming health and level of engagement with these two elderly women aside, my wonderment about what age we become the person who needs assistance preoccupies my thoughts now? The slightly younger elderly White woman was vibrant, alive, and intellectually curious. The older elderly Black woman was reticent, reserved, and somewhat shy like. I wondered how different their lives might have been because of their racial experiences. Do you have any ideas about that reality? Both women bore the brunt of living long lives in a society that appeared to enable them to live long lives where they still generated an endearing energy, though one’s energy output was high and infectious, while the other’s was low and in need of a boost. Both of them made me think of one of my favorite sayings. Dr. Lynn Schlesinger told me early in my days at SUNY Plattsburgh that the one community we are all apt to join at any moment is the disabled community. While she said this in the context of ability, it definitely applies to age. If we live long enough we will age and our physical ability will become different, we will become differently abled. We will become physically challenged. When none of this reality is immediately upon us we easily can feel invincible which unfortunately can lead to our being quite inconsiderate. It is this inconsideration, or what I was once accused of, that I want to address. I once had a conversation with an elderly black man who chastised me about being inconsiderate because I didn't treat him and his friend (a friend I greatly respect) with the respect he felt they both deserved! It is intriguing to have someone chastise me about disrespect when I rearranged my schedule to accommodate a request of his for assistance once. Or went out of my way to encourage his participation in community events in which my office facilitated. But none of this mattered to him. His dropping an unsolicited memento off by my office, to which I neglected to say thank you to him for, and my not making it to his friends big birthday celebration were enough for him to privately tongue lash me and interpret the entire situation as a major piece of disrespect on my part. I had to ask myself if his age was a contributing factor to my possible procrastination! Do you think it could have been? How many of you ask yourself questions or seriously contemplate various answers about aging? Will I be healthy? Will I have family to assist me? How must it feel to be all alone as you are undeniably playing the back nine? While I couldn’t relate fully to the elderly black man insinuating I was inconsiderate by rudely taking me to task, I wondered would I be taking the same actions at some point in my life to some young man that may think he’s all that, when I don’t. Perhaps the cat is in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man on the moon! What are your thoughts on one day being dependent on someone to open a bottle of water for you, or assist you in clarifying a connecting flight’s departure gate? Are we prepared to be our grandparents one day soon? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.445 2008-02-10T05:05:58Z 2008-02-10T05:11:10Z

I then asked her if that made her weird! She almost started crying at the thought that her dad was suggesting she was weird. I then told her if she didn’t like being called weird, she shouldn’t call anyone else names like that, because since most of the time she would be the only black girl anywhere she went, that difference would kind of make her weird.

J.W. Wiley Back in the days when I was growing up in South Central Los Angeles I had a healthy number of friends. Like most people my friends came in different shapes and sizes, with different views and approaches to life as we were living it back then. While it was the hood and no one was living much larger than anyone else, the way people chose to live was intriguing in itself. Some of the neighbors put all their money into their homes. Others put their funds into their automobiles. Many put their funds into their children’s education, sending them to private schools in an attempt to invest in a better life for their children. As an adult looking back on all those different flows my friends had I understand a great deal of the socio-political implications and influences on their parents behavior which ultimately influenced them greatly. But as a child I only knew that my friends represented a wide array of ways, and that it was my boy David who was a stone trip! Now, when you hear people say someone is a trip, they probably have just bought into a slice of American slang that has become a cultural norm for the relatively cool. The use of the word “trip” without thinking about its’ true meaning is so matter-of-factly done that most people don’t unpack what it may actually mean. For me, when I call someone a trip, it means that experiencing them is like taking a journey, getting away from everyday type activities, knowing I may be headed toward a conversation or front row seat to something out of the extraordinary. So, when I say someone is a trip I really mean that engaging them is almost like going on an adventure! Feel me on this? Back to David, yes my boy David was a trip! He was a brown skinned Latino who most of the people in the hood would have seen as Black, except his accent told another story. Life was a trip back then! As kids you think you know everything when in actuality all you really know is what you know, nothing more. (Damn, for that matter that would apply for adults as well, though we will argue against that point if pressed to defend ourselves. Oh yes, we are trips in that regard). For that matter, I was positive that David didn’t know who he was. Since his family spoke Spanish, and all the Spanish speaking people in our neighborhood were Mexican, when I got into a rag session with David, while he was calling me “nigger” or “Black chump” I was calling him “Stupid Mexican.” To this he would reply, “F-you Man, I’m Puerto Rican, not Mexican!” I would laugh and tell him he was really stupid, and insist that he was Mexican. I had never heard of Puerto Rico and so, since I hadn’t, it didn’t exist, and since he sounded like Mexicans sound, he had to be Mexican. But what was it in me, or you in a similar situation that would make us insist that we knew more than the kids we were forcing labels on? Is that what we do as kids? Why? Looking back on it, it is obvious that he knew he was Puerto Rican! He was definitely very different from any other kid in the neighborhood, and I couldn’t figure it out! Going over his house always felt like I was entering a foreign country, yet he always was David. His mother would speak Spanish to him, and attempt to speak so-called proper English with me. His father, like most fathers in my neighborhood, wasn’t there, so his big brother and sister were like pseudo-parents to him. David, who ate different foods, talked different, even watched some different television shows, was always cool! He was always David! Later, as an adult when I realized that I had really embarrassed myself and shown my ignorance by insisting David was other than he was, I discovered that one of the worst things we can do to someone is commit to an opinion we have on them simply because they fit a societal image. As kids we can’t help it! What is our excuse as adults? My daughter, in the local Wal-Mart at a very young age, saw a differently-abled child walk past her. She saw the little boy as very different from her. I also noticed the little boy. About a second later my daughter decides to turn to her older brother and let him know that the “different” little boy was “weird.” Hearing this, I took my daughter into the center of the store, and told her (and her brother) to stand there and watch all the kids that were/would be passing by. I asked her to “really” watch all the kids that passed by. After about five minutes (an eternity to a little four year old) I asked her if she saw any kids that looked like her. She said no! I then asked her if that made her weird! She almost started crying at the thought that her dad was suggesting she was weird. I then told her if she didn’t like being called weird, she shouldn’t call anyone else names like that, because since most of the time she would be the only black girl anywhere she went, that difference would kind of make her weird. She would go on to call other kids weird, geek, nerd for a bit of time after that, but she either doesn’t do it at all anymore, or hides it from me. So, either the teaching moment that I took full advantage of was successful, or she knows it’s wrong and still does it just because she can’t yet fully comprehend the hypocrisy of the moment. Of course I choose to believe she is enlightened about both treating people the way she wants to be treated (golden rule), is by her actions trying to set an example for others to follow (categorical imperative), or better still, just knows that calling someone anything other than their name is straight up wrong (doing the wrong thing). How many of you take the time to challenge your children about their perspectives, their “ways of seeing?” I wonder if I had never had a Puerto Rican friend named David would I have even challenged my daughter about her name calling! I would make the argument that not challenging my daughter after realizing what a trip I must have been when I was young would have made me even more of a trip! If you think so, why is that? Why would it have been a trip for me not to challenge my daughter? More so, how much of a trip is it that you don’t challenge more people than you do? Hey, don’t get mad at me for challenging you in this blog. You must want me to challenge you if you wander with me, which makes you as much of a trip as me, which is why you wander with Wiley!!! tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.443 2008-02-05T08:30:11Z 2008-02-05T08:51:23Z

The representation of a confederate flag or any racial statement on a hat is most likely a symbol of heritage or some type of pride for many. But it is also is a symbol of insensitivity towards many, a symbol of a type of privilege that clearly states I don’t have to be concerned about how you interpret my messages. My only response to seeing any overt statement on someone’s hat is would they be bold enough to wear it amongst a throng of people that might have a problem with the statement.

J.W. Wiley So, we know the different statements that are made when we are undressed. But what are we saying when we get dressed! When I put on attire that says anything like “I’m black and I’m proud,” what statement is that attire saying to others? What does it say to you? I remember being asked to engage students at a local school a few years ago on the issue of them wearing Confederate Flag attire. Should that have been an issue at all? Many people—especially a large number of students at the school that requested my assistance—were appalled at the fact that their students would don such garments. Others said it was a symbol of pride in their heritage. The actual mantra defenders of the confederate attire used to advance their position was “heritage, not hate.” I don’t want to offend anyone’s heritage, but I hated that mantra! Do we have a right to challenge someone’s pride in their heritage? Is it a double standard to challenge one groups’ clothing and not another’s. Why is it okay for black people to have black pride, but not whites to have white pride? Come on, you know damn well that many of you have had this thought before. Let’s talk! Drop it like its hot! I have a hat that says “BOTA” which means “Brothers of the Academy.” Is that racist? Well, technically the word “brother” could be construed as such, since it implies, more often than not, black maleness. Native American, Latino and Asian males that hang with the home boys often receive that consideration themselves whilst amongst Blacks. Even some white males “with flava” that I have encountered in my lifetime earn those stripes as well (if you don’t know what flava is, you need to ask someone). But is having BOTA on your hat equivalent to having a confederate flag on your hat?. Does the symbol of educated black men within a spectrum of a national organization of college oriented men suggest anything racist? It shouldn’t and it should. It isn’t racist in the sense that it isn’t designed to hurt anyone, only advance a group that has been systematically constrained by governmental policy and procedures within a so-called democratic country. It is racist in that the organization BOTA is all about undermining the privileges of those (mostly white) who have systematically contributed to the internalized oppression of black folk so that they may seek advantage/privilege while appearing as if they aren’t. The representation of a confederate flag or any racial statement on a hat is most likely a symbol of heritage or some type of pride for many. But it is also is a symbol of insensitivity towards many, a symbol of a type of privilege that clearly states I don’t have to be concerned about how you interpret my messages. My only response to seeing any overt statement on someone’s hat is would they be bold enough to wear it amongst a throng of people that might have a problem with the statement. If the answer to that question is no, then they shouldn’t be wearing it, period. If I am wrong about this, please inform me. But first tell me how it differs from telling our children that if they wouldn’t say profanity in front of us, why are they saying ill-gotten words/phrases in front of their friends. So what about the attire we don in jest? Does it excuse us somehow when we wear certain outfits as Halloween attire? I recently visited a college that had serious concerns about some of their students who did exactly that, donned KKK attire as Halloween garb. Wasn’t it Prince Harry who decided to dress as a Nazi for some costume party? Doesn’t it seem that every 3-5 years in the news we get some type of sound bite about a social insensitivity? Doesn’t it speak specifically to the fact that we aren’t educating our youth early and often enough about respect for differences? A colleague of mine, a White woman, shared with me that she bought her partner, a White Male, a White Privilege sweat top. She said he was excited to have it, but somewhat uncomfortable wearing it, especially in this area. Perhaps while he didn’t expect to be beat down, or lynched, he knew he could just be socially outcast and on some subtle levels devalued for having too edgy of a take on racism! Both her and him understand that it was a White scholar, Peggy McIntosh, who coined the phrase while acknowledging the privileges her white skin gave her in American society. No doubt, if a black person made the same claim they would be construed as a whiner. However, with a White person saying it, though they may be telling tales out of school, it definitely wouldn’t be interpreted as whining. After all, McIntosh was only making the same claim a man could/would/should make when thinking about his privilege over women in American society. He may not access it all the time, but it is futile for men to argue their gender, their masculinity doesn’t privilege them, often, over women! The same can be said about those who have money in this capitalist system of government that we operate within. If you have money, you can buy honey! You get my point! I remember as if it was yesterday when my wife and I went to a party years ago over her ex bosses house. He was a director of human resources. Traditionally human resources is one of the more progressive, sophisticated departments within an organization. They are the people-people. They are in the people business. So, we are leaving this guy’s house after having been there about 90 minutes. We were the only Blacks in his home and the only one’s who happened to enter his home through the front door. All the White folk had entered through the side door (my how times have changed). So, we are now leaving through the side door and look to our left and see old antiquated black faced, big lipped, figurines, historical Jim Crow artifacts that were being proudly displayed on his wall. My wife looked shocked at both what she saw, and then became overtly concerned at what I would say. You could see it in her eyes. I pulled my eyes off the wall, turned to him and said “Quite an interesting wall hanging you’ve got there! Quite a controversial piece of art. Do you know that many scholars are in discussion even today about what art like this actually says, historically, as well as what it says about the people who would actually display it in current times.” My wife looked at me, proudly, and then almost immediately transitioned into an awareness that I had just said this to her boss. It seemed as if she allowed all of her social justice instincts to override the fact that, on some level, I had actually been somewhat rude and self-righteous in my judgment on this man whom I was now treating as a perpetrator of social injustice. He was just a man who has been educated in the American school system and by the American media. His perspective is how we traditionally roll. When I fight to not call my son a sissy when he is on the verge of tears, I am really fighting not to become this man. I am fighting against my socialization. Too many of us just straight-out succumb to it without question far too often. What is that about? Before any of you get too sanctimonious about the H.R. director, people who wear insensitive attire, etc. make sure that you are not allowing people in your crew to be comfortable in front of you using dysfunctional language. If you are, then you are the complex person you are simply hastily judging. Damn, isn’t life complex in its simplicity while being simple in its complexity? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.440 2008-02-01T14:18:54Z 2008-02-01T14:31:22Z

Why is it we uncritically look at one another through glasses that were designed for us to often see one another as one dimensional objects? She isn’t a person who has found love, she is a lesbian! He isn’t a person who didn’t have the opportunities in life that you and I had, he is a bum! She isn’t a mother working to make ends meet for her family, she is a stripper. He isn’t a man who was taught to hate, or not taught to love, he simply is racist! We need to realize that the prescription that enables us to peer through those glasses is not one that really helps us to see better.

J.W. Wiley For those of you who read Midday Train to Albany Part One & Part Two, thanks for joining me on the ride. I travel often enough where it can get monotonous and/or lonely at times. Since the Albany excursion I have traveled to Pleasantville, New York and Paul Smiths, New York by automobile. One trip was with my son who not only "really" saw me present for the first time, but continually tried to finagle his way into the presentation. Oh, should I get overtly flattered when women comment on how handsome my son is, and then later tell me how much he looks like me. Why can’t they just eliminate the middle man (or in this case, boy) and just tell me I’m hot! I guess I will have to just settle for letting my mind “wander” enough to interpret or spin any compliments that are extended to him. This may allow me to overcompensate for the fact that on Ratemyprofessor.com no one has ever rated me hot. What is that about? The other recent trip I went on was to Paul Smiths, New York at night. The travel there was a bit anxious for me because it was at night, it felt as if I was traveling through a forest, and I had never traveled on most of those roads that I was encouraged to take. Thankfully it wasn't snowing or their may have been the first instance of a black man experiencing a white knuckle moment. Feel me! Both the Pleasantville and Paul Smiths road trips were experiences that were overshadowed by the events that occurred once I reached my destinations, which literally overwhelmed my consciousness (blew my mind). I won’t go into the details at this point, but talking about lessons learned, stay tuned. Regarding the Albany trip though, I can only imagine people’s reactions to my fantasizing or lust of a woman outside of my marriage. I know many people would never admit to what Jimmy Carter and I, as well as CB and Steve, all straight up owned. I understand that much of that is peer pressure, or concerns about spousal respect. The peer pressure factor is something to which I refuse to consciously succumb. I just would feel stupid letting other’s opinions of me dictate my life. Yes, no one lives in a vacuum and we need to be sensitive to other’s perspectives on us and the things we do, but if we give other’s opinions of us too much respect we can become immobilized because their opinions are going to always be there, and for the most part those opinions are going to be lacking all the information that they need to be thoroughly informed. Think about it! The spousal respect factor is huge. No one wants to disrespect their partner, their lover, the mother/father of their children. But if most people daydream, sneak a peek, check others out on the sly (was that a subliminal suggestion for you to check out Foxy’s blog), fantasize, then I believe there is more honesty in talking about it than internalizing it. This is probably why the majority of the women that have been in my life and I have not had problems with discussing the beautiful people that momentarily enter and exit our lives. Here’s a question: Am I the only one who has sat back and discussed whether my date, lover, partner/wife finds the person walking through the lobby attractive or desirable? Somehow I believe in doing that I continue to cultivate an awareness of what the women who have been romantic interests in my life see attractive in men, which in contrast better situates me to see what I am bringing to the table. Perhaps the big difference between me and many, is that I don’t pretend about my fascination with other people, including an appreciation for the beauty and sensuality that abounds in women. While I am not staring, or gawking, I most likely am looking and given enough time, will discuss it. And I love it when the women in my life are comfortable enough to tell me that some other man is hot. I don't necessarily want to know if he is hotter than me though. I am progressive, but not without some level of insecurity! Another dimension to the Midday Train to Albany blog that fascinated me is the pretension about the way we see one another, and how unwilling we are to espouse our vulnerabilities in terms of our way of seeing. I know there must have been some people reading my blog judging me. I’m not stupid, at least not in the sense that I don’t imagine what people’s reactions might be to some of my blogs. I wrote Part One to entice people who are apt to prejudge-- to prejudge my fantasizing. I wrote Part Two to entice people to empathize with me when I prejudged, though many of those people (did I just say “those people”) may not even process their prejudice towards my behavior as wrong, while sympathizing with me about my prejudice towards the snack bar attendant. People should be aware if not ashamed of themselves for the way they prejudge one another. When I succumb to prejudging others (prejudice) I am so ashamed of myself. The only good thing that comes out of it is that my dysfunctional behavior stays in the forefront of my mind long enough where I don’t do it for a while. Why is it we uncritically look at one another through glasses that were designed for us to often see one another as one dimensional objects? She isn’t a person who has found love, she is a lesbian! He isn’t a person who didn’t have the opportunities in life that you and I had, he is a bum! She isn’t a mother working to make ends meet for her family, she is a stripper. He isn’t a man who was taught to hate, or not taught to love, he simply is racist! We need to realize that the prescription that enables us to peer through those glasses is not one that really helps us to see better. In the words of Anais Nin: “We don’t see people as they are, we see them as we are!” Well if that is the case, then who are you, and do you really want the world to reflect what you have always seen? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.437 2008-01-24T12:34:29Z 2008-01-24T12:37:41Z

I have always said that one of the things I was concerned about was the fact that “as we climb the social ladder, what is our perspective on the rungs we left behind?”

J.W. Wiley PART TWO: Later, while on the train, I was awaiting my turkey and cheese micro-waved sandwich when the attendee and conductor started talking. They both seemed cool, relatively laid back, at ease with themselves, you know, not caught up in illogical actions/thoughts like homophobia, racism, and/or flaunting their societal position (elitism). Their conversation exuded an unpretentiousness that completely took all tension within my shoulders right out. Somehow I must have gotten very comfortable because I surmised I could get away with giving the conductor my opinion of him. I said “man, you are a youthful looking conductor. Are you a legacy? Does this line of work run through your family?” They were both surprised at my unsolicited opinion and bold questioning, and the attendee asked “How did you know this type of work runs in his family?” I thought from the energy he exhibited collecting tickets I just imagined he may have been that little boy who watched his father, maybe even grandfather, in this line of work. He may have been the little boy who loved trains! But he just projected an energy and appreciation that shouted out his enthusiasm for being on a train and perhaps even, meeting with people. However, I said, “You look like you love the job that you watched your dad do!” The youthful looking conductor smiled, acknowledged that both his father and grandfather had been conductors, and then started to really open up with me. He, the attendee and I then all fully stepped into a conversation. We talked about train life, and their spending an evening in Montreal, then New York, then Montreal, then New York, over and over again. Granted, at the salary of the younger employees of trains, unless they come from wealth, Montreal and New York City will bite the budget hard, or you won’t be doing much. But how many people get to live between two international cities on an alternating basis? If you get the right networks going that could be quite the learning/living experience. I connected with these two younger cats so well, it was amazing. We only talked about five to seven minutes, but while it was rapid, it was real. At one point they asked me where I was headed and why. They appeared a bit impressed when I mentioned I was on my way to consult to a college for an on-line course on social justice and diversity. I then mentioned I was from Los Angeles originally, and then responded to the heartfelt question extended to me about whether I liked being in the North Country with a bit of detail. I mentioned being an educator, the Press Republican’s Wiley Wandering blog, and the bullying film, Dissed Respect. I did it quick so as not to brag (though who am I kidding, I am proud and it felt good to say it). I was smiling after just summarizing how much I am enjoying my career and the young brother summarized his perspective on what I said by saying “You brought your city hustle to that small town!” My city hustle? I pounded him (for the slang impaired, a pound is somewhat of a handshake, or really more a fist balled tap to a friend/associate to indicate agreement) for the compliment, chatted with them a bit more, then returned to my seat, fully expecting to chat with the two of them later. Now, I started unpacking the statement, “My city hustle,” the moment it was said. I wasn’t going to overreact, but his statement, while delivered with very positive affection, still could have carried a pejorative connotation with it. I have some thoughts on this, but so might you! What are they? The attendee, a young black man, was quite an understated intellect. His assertion that my hustle had served me well during my career in the North Country was astute, if not layered. But the most interesting thing about the exchange for me was that I had prejudged this brother. After he dropped that bit of insight upon me, it made me realize that I had inadvertently, subconsciously stereotyped him as not having a whole lot of anything significant to contribute to a conversation beyond some soft frill stuff about the train, maybe some observations about women, racism, sports, or entertainment. Damn, have I somehow become an academic, intellectual elite? Have I somehow transcended analysis of “the man” and become the man myself? I have always said that one of the things I was concerned about was the fact that “as we climb the social ladder, what is our perspective on the rungs we left behind?” What is yours? When you go back into your old neighborhoods or see old friends, and your lifestyles or economic means are not on the same level as they were in high school, how does this affect you? When you encounter that middle school acquaintance or high school friend, and they appear to be in much different health than you, do you feel happy or sad for them? More so, do you think of the happenstance or social conditions that contributed to them being situated the way they are? After talking with the attendee a while longer about my professional reality in the North Country being more advantageous for me because of less racial competition and his revealing tremendous insight about the realities of under representation I was proud and sad simultaneously. I was proud to recognize that this much less educated black man had at least as much wisdom as I did, if not more. And I was sad because when you consider all the work I put in teaching and learning about social justice and diversity, I had succumbed to my socialization again and judged this book/man by his cover/hype! You don’t do that, do you? When was the last time? Why don’t you share it with the crew? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.435 2008-01-19T20:58:53Z 2008-01-19T21:00:52Z

I understand that the problem which results from beauty privilege is, after the down payment, can you make the other payments?

J.W. Wiley If you’ve never ridden on a train before, what is that all about? Okay, chill! Before you try to crowd me about my somewhat class-ist statement I know that everyone may not be able to afford a train ride. Yes, I know that I shouldn’t assume everyone has my financial freedom, whatever that means. My point is that if/whenever you are in need of travel and have time, why would you not be taking the train? I was recently on a train to Albany. Along the way I had many intriguing experiences. As always I would like to share some of them with you so that I can get another perspective on certain occurrences or hypothetical occurrences. During my travels I had a pseudo conversation with a Latina inside the train station awaiting our train, and had a nice chat with two younger men, one the Black snack bar attendee and the other a White conductor. This alone is quite a rarity. Other than the Underground Railroad (which brings to mind Harriet Tubman and the pioneering couple of Northern New York, Don and Vivian Papson), I don’t recall seeing on any previous train rides any underrepresented people. What I am about to share with you next though may give you some insight into my mind that could truly scare you. Regardless, I have an analysis of a conversation I had with these two men and the pseudo conversation with the Latina that I want to share with you. I will share both of these conversations in two parts across two blog postings, hence the Part One reference in the title begins with the lovely Latina. Part One: On some level I felt like I was Rick Blane (Humphrey Bogart’s character in Casablanca). Unlike Rick, I was not in a moment that immediately followed a heart break served by an outrageously charming, stylish, beautiful woman (Ingrid Bergman portraying Ilsa Lund). I had never bootlegged arms, never owned a Casino, and never been smooth enough to look a woman in her eyes and say “here’s looking at you, kid!” But I was feeling that Bogart cool, that Bogart rugged handsome. I had on my form fitting Calvin Klein jeans with my stylish dress-up/dress-down wingtip boots. That morning I had worked out (pushups, stomach crunches, weights, and thirty-minute bike ride) so I was feeling like quite the fit specimen. Similar to the old 80s R&B singing group, I was “ready for the world.” I entered the train station that would allow me to embark upon my trip to Albany expecting to have some adventures to chronicle, but little did I know the party was about to start immediately. A beautiful, dark haired, athletic looking, shapely, long legged, averting eyed, succulent lipped Latina was the only person sitting in the station. I haven’t traveled on trains that often, but she was quite beautiful, and unbelievably sexy. So this is where my mind intrigues even me. On any given day, soon after entering a train station I would immediately immerse myself in a book, send texts out to the crew, watch a movie on the laptop, grade papers (listening to John Coltrane of course), or read some article that will help me grow or one that I wish I had written. On this day I was mesmerized by her presence and had to struggle not to stare the majority of the time I was anywhere near her. I watched her go outside to smoke a cigarette that I could not imagine would, by any stretch of the imagination, adversely affect her lungs. After all, doesn’t beauty give you a down payment on most everything in life? Okay, I acknowledge I am being a bit preposterous here, but indulge me! I understand that the problem which results from beauty privilege is, after the down payment, can you make the other payments? Whether the Latina could make additional payments or not, I started to imagine that she could have a crush on me and simply be sitting over there hoping I would say something. What I wanted to say to her after witnessing her playing with the ends of her hair for approximately ten minutes was this: “It was fascinating watching you truly fascinated with your hair!” It would have been quite a lyrical entry into a conversation with someone inclined toward an intriguing conversation. However, someone not inclined, might have declined attempting to appreciate my prosaic entree into conversation, leaving me with frustration. I wasn’t having that! I thought about all those movies where two strangers meet on a train and the intensity just heats right up. I got up to purchase a water and asked myself should I offer her a water just to start a conversation, or perhaps, at the very least, to have the opportunity to hear her talk. I thought of how that type of action could make her nervous, anxious, though it didn’t have to mean anything, or could be the catalyst for a flirtatious conversation between two people who could just get caught up in one another’s conversation on the way to getting caught up in one another. She could literally be sitting there hoping I would say something because she is too shy to do it herself. I also thought of how she probably didn’t know I existed before I came into the station, and wouldn’t attest to my existence after any exchange we might have. Doses of reality don’t come cheap! Yes, I thought of what it means for me, a married man, to even have thoughts like this? President Jimmy Carter once admitted he had lusted, so if a peanut farming, Olympic boycotting president could admit it, how much will I get beat down for it? There was also an age differential of some years, though exactly what that might have been I am not sure. Her age could have been anywhere from ten years younger than me to ten years older than me. Did I just blow your mind? Okay, but she probably was about ten years my junior. So, with a potential generation between us, was there anything I really could have said to her that she would have been interested in hearing. Okay, and then there was the racial/cultural divide. She was Latina, I am a black (say it loud). While both of those cultural groups are reputed to have “flava,” so does lip gloss and a Marlboro cigarette, but everyone isn’t trying to put them both to their lips. Is it natural, healthy, sexy, problematic, dysfunctional to see someone that you find quite alluring and then cast them immediately for a starring role in one of your dreams? While I haven’t had flights of fancy like this often, I have had them often enough to know I can’t be alone. Is this that feeling they call having a crush on someone? I have had fantasy become reality before, and once you have experienced a dream, do you quit on other dreams, or believe more is available to you if you continue to believe? Am I still talking about gazing at a Latina from afar, or have I somehow transitioned into a more profound discourse? What are your thoughts? tag:blog.pressrepublican.com,2008:/weblog5//5.430 2008-01-10T12:30:11Z 2008-01-11T22:24:23Z

One of the things that occurred to me recently when I was doing a presentation is how many sayings and quotes I often use to accentuate my points. Somehow it further legitimates a thought or better frames a message if someone else also said what it is you are trying to convey.

J.W. Wiley As many of you know I often have the privilege of doing presentations at various universities, businesses, and conferences. One of the things that occurred to me recently when I was doing a presentation is how many sayings and quotes I often use to accentuate my points. Somehow it further legitimates a thought or better frames a message if someone else also said what it is you are trying to convey. My students, colleagues, and close friends know that when they use any of my original quotes (not to imply that there are that many, but the one’s I use are “tight.” Don’t hate!) they are expected to give a verbal footnote, a J.W. shout-out! It isn’t anything extraordinary, just a whispered acknowledgement that the poignant thought they just dropped isn’t there’s. An example of this is when one of my young bloods (who has just ascended to Student Association president at SUNY Plattsburgh), Mr. Angel Acosta--once during a break in a class in which he was a Teacher's Assistant--looked at and commented on two women who we both respect greatly, Professor Deb Light and one of the most outstanding students I’ve ever worked with who was also a Teacher's Assistant for us, Ms. Dana Lutters. We had just finished talking about how most everyone has multiple identities that situate them as both oppressors or oppressed, in differing contextual moments. Angel threw his arm around my shoulder and said “look at them, ‘swimming in privilege, yet drowning in oppression.’” I was flabbergasted! His statement was the perfect frame for two white women who have racial privilege in a hegemonic culture where white skin is dominant. However, those same two women, as women, lose privilege in many cases because they are women in a culture designed for, and dominated by men. So, whenever I use Angel’s phrase I say “swimming in privilege, yet drowning in oppression,” and follow it with a very low “Angel Acosta.” Now, people look at me and sometimes wonder did I just say something, or even wonder what I just said. I don’t have to repeat it though unless I really want to. I have fulfilled my responsibility to the original author by at least pseudo-silently giving the verbal footnote. Below are some of my favorites. Also I include the authors name when I know it, though many were passed onto me from adults and they would use them as if they coined the phrases, without any mention of a verbal footnote. Shame on them! Oh, please feel free to include any quotes near and dear to you! Only the educated are free. -- Epictetus I am more afraid of an army of 100 sheep led by a lion than an army of 100 lions led by a sheep. -- Talleyrand The mind is like a parachute - it works only when it is open. -- Author Unknown The cost of liberty is less than the price of repression. – W.E.B. DuBois Beginning to think is beginning to be undermined. – Albert Camus Most Individuals are plastic to the molding force of the society into which they are born! -- Ruth Benedict, Forewarned is Forearmed – Author Unknown Truths are like other people's property. -- Charles Fried Men are only poor creatures ... They would not seem to be dwarfs if they had not been asked to be giants. -- Simone de Beauvoir If everyone is thinking alike, then somebody isn't thinking. -- George S. Patton The most powerful means of sustaining the moral hegemony of the dominant gender ideology is that the process is made invisible; any possible alternatives are virtually unthinkable. -- Judith Lorber The level of consciousness of young people must be raised; they need enlightenment. -- Frantz Fanon Ability is a poor man's wealth. -- John Wooden Other people are the mirror in which we see ourselves! -- Charles Cooley Condemning people out of habit is easy! Overcoming deep seated prejudice takes courage! – John Corvino There is no sun without shadow and it is essential to know the night. – Albert Camus Herein lies the tragedy of the age; not that men are poor--all men know something of poverty; nor that men are wicked--who is good? Not that men are ignorant--what is truth? Nay, but that men know so little of men. – W.E.B. DuBois Truth fears no trial. -- Proverb I Believe in the soul, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, long foreplay, show tunes...I believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap, that there should be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, voting every election, soft core pornography, chocolate chip cookies...and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft wet kisses that last three days. -- Kevin Costner in Bull Durham The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step! -- Confucius The social is the natural. -- Judith Lorber Normality is culturally defined! -- Ruth Benedict I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out. -- Elizabeth Barrett Browning The problem of the 20th Century is the problem of the color line. – W.E.B. DuBois In the depth of Winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible Summer. – Albert Camus The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it." -- Albert Einstein We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are. – Anais Nin America taught my son's killer to hate blacks. -- Camille Cosby An oppressed class is the vital condition for every society founded on the antagonism of classes. – Karl Marx No person can put a chain about the ankle of another [person] without at last finding the other end fastened about his [or her] own neck. -- Fredrick Douglass Leadership and learning are indispensable to each other. -- John Fitzgerald Kennedy The sword does not feel the pain it inflicts. Do not ask it about suffering. -- Phillip Hallie No jailer is ever a free man, himself. -- J.A. Rogers Between the superhuman and the inhuman is there no place for the human? -- Simone de Beauvoir The middle of every successful project looks like a disaster. -- Rosabeth Moss Cantor The more regularly a lie is repeated, the more plausible it it likely to appear. -- Josef Goebbel Most of the early information we receive about "others" -people racially, religiously, or socio-economically different from ourselves-does not come as the result of firsthand experience. The secondhand information we do receive has often been distorted, shaped by cultural stereotypes, and left incomplete. – Beverly Daniel Tatum Victory has a hundred fathers... Defeat is an orphan. -- John Fitzgerald Kennedy Ultimately, social class determines how people think about social class. – James Loewen As we climb the social ladder, what is our perspective on the rungs we left behind? -- J.W. Wiley Agenda after Agenda after Agenda after Agenda, you can never get into your agenda for having one. – Author Unknown I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble. -- Helen Keller A vision without a plan is an hallucination! -- Salome Thomas-El Watch your thoughts , they may become your words. Watch your words, they may become your actions. Watch your actions, they may become your habits. Watch your habits, they may become your character. Watch your character, it may become your destiny. – Author Unknown It is often a better strategy to apologize than to ask permission! – Author Unknown Concepts without percepts are empty, Percepts without concepts are meaningless! -- Immanuel Kant The very compulsiveness with which certain lies are repeated can reveal not only the degrees of their falsity but the extent to which their authors understand them to be false. -- Homi Bhabba It's never too late to be who you might have been. -- George Elliot It is when the well is dry that we know the price of water. -- Ben Franklin She has never had a lover like me, one who puts a lot of thought into our sensuality, because I want her to revere me! -- Anonymous Covenants without the sword are but words. – Thomas Hobbes Romance is about the possibility of things.... it's about the time between when you meet some fine-ass woman and when you first make love to her... when you first ask a woman to marry you and when she says 'I do.' When people who have been together for a long time say that the romance is gone what they are really saying is they've exhausted the possibility! -- Darius Lovehall in the film Love Jones They enjoy black culture as they grow up, but at a certain point, as soon as it's time to get a job and move on in their life, they'll throw this culture aside like they had never participated in it. -- Dave Chappelle The institute of marriage makes a parasite of woman, an absolute dependant. It incapacitates her for life's struggle, annihilates her social consciousness, paralyzes her imagination, and then imposes its gracious protection, which is in reality a snare, a travesty on human character. -- Author Unknown It is better to be thought an idiot in your silence than to speak and remove all doubt. – Author Unknown First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me. -- Pastor Martin Niemoller You can't be neutral on a moving train! -- Howard Zinn Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. -- George Carlin WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR FAVORITES LISTED HERE, YOUR REACTIONS TO ANY OF THEM, OR SOME YOU WOULD LIKE TO SHARE?