It appears the title of the book is actually "Go Set a Watchman" (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Go_Set_a_Watchman).
On Sat, Sep 5, 2020 at 4:27 PM <[email protected]> wrote: > Steve, > > > > Your story, like so many of your stories, cuts to the heart. If you > haven’t already, I recommend you read *Go Call a Watchmen, *the > pre-written sequel to *To Kill a Mockingbird, *in which Scout discovers > that, at least from seen from a Northern perspective, is actually a flaming > racist. That perspective thing, as Glen keeps reminding me, is so > important. I would love to know what you (-all) think of that book. > > > > Nick > > > > > > > > > > Nicholas Thompson > > Emeritus Professor of Ethology and Psychology > > Clark University > > [email protected] > > https://wordpress.clarku.edu/nthompson/ > > > > > > *From:* Friam <[email protected]> *On Behalf Of *Steve Smith > *Sent:* Saturday, September 5, 2020 1:27 PM > *To:* [email protected] > *Subject:* Re: [FRIAM] Today's Sermon:: a minor awokening > > > > Nick - > > I think I may well know the man of whom you speak... he is in my "second > order circle" so I only see him while visiting certain friends or at events > we all share or the occasional criss-cross in a public venue. I will try > to remember to ask him if he remembers YOU... question is which > stereotype might I appeal to to describe you to him? I won't speculate on > what forms that might take as I explore my own stereotypes, or worse yet, > my projections of what *his* stereotypes of you might be. If we are > talking about the same person I doubt he would have "avoided you"... he has > been fairly politely blunt with me a few times and then resumed the jovial > conversations we were having. He seemed very practiced at navigating (not > so) hidden judgements and assumptions about him. > > My own mother had a modest amount of self-awareness, growing up in KY > fairly proud of being a "Yankee" in the sense of north of the Mason-Dixon > and from a subculture that was too poor to have ever risked owning a slave > or having a close relative who did. She lived with her aunt in the city of > Frankfort during the school year in the depression for lots of reasons. > She was therefore raised as an only child, her cousins having recently > grown and moved out of the family home. She tells an anecdote of having > developed a friendship with a girl who lived *somewhere* between *her > school* and her aunt's house... she would pause to play with her every day > after school until it got to where she started being noticeably late > home... when she told her aunt why she was late, she said "why don't you > just invite your friend home next time and you can play here!"... she > asked her friend who resisted for about a week and then finally came home > (her aunt married a Scottish Doctor, so their home was very meticulous and > in a nicer neighborhood, but they lived crazy-frugal anyway) and after the > first day, her aunt very politely told her not to invite the friend back, > and in fact, was forbidden to play with her anymore. The little girl was > apparently the first black person she had ever met and it was years later > that she guessed that that was what it was all about... her aunt was too > "polite" to make a deal about it and too "authoritarian" to be > questioned. Later her mother gave her a family heirloom which was > referred to colloquially as a "tar baby" which her mother explained to her > had been a type of doll that young girls were given to "play with" in the > style and memory of how their ancestors had been allowed to "play with" the > slave babies. Her mother explained how wrong *all* of it was, from the > slavery to the treating even the babies as property, to replacing them > post-emancipation with effigies, etc. I learned this when she was > unpacking from one of our moves and it showed up in a cardboard barrel > amongst her mother's (our aunt's) china that we never used... my sister > saw it and was intrigued and "wanted to play with it" whereupon my mother > tried to explain all of this to us and then declaring that "the best thing > I can do is get rid of it, it is just a reflection of a bad piece of > history". I don't know if it went in the burn barrel with our other trash > or if she figured out some more respectful disposal method... I would like > to think she knew of a historian or similar for whom such an artifact could > be made meaningful. This and other similar instances made me think that > my parents were the least prejudiced people I knew, until at 19 my sister > who had a small group of friends from college, one of who was African > American... my parents liked him a lot, he was a very sociable and > interesting person (his father was career military and his mother had died > when he was young and he and two sisters were raised by "help"). But at > some point, the friendship drifted into the boyfriend zone and they very > sternly, albeit embarrassingly disabused me of the thought that they were > not prejudiced. I don't remember the exact conversations but it was clear > that they were very much against the relationship, even if they didn't > quite try to forbid their (adult) daughter from continuing. I think they > even enlisted one of their (more openly) racist friends to have a > conversation with her. It did not sit well at all with me. But made me > realize how hidden some of these judgements, stereotypes, opinions, etc can > be. I'm sure I'm laced with junk like that. > > - Steve > > Dear fellow congregants, > > > > One of the things we talk about is our bemusement at Trump supporters. > One expression you often hear these supporters say is that they admire him > because “He tells it like it is!” They can say this while acknowledging > that almost everything he says is false. So, if he is lying most of the > time, what is he telling the truth about? > > > > I think I know. As I keep insisting, I am not a boomer. I am from the > Silent Generation, the Lonely Crowd. My mother’s life hero was Eleanor > Roosevelt. It was I, aged seven, who brought the news of the President’s > death to my parents, and I was startled to seem my mother burst into > tears. Crying was not her thing. My folks were publishers. We had black, > Jewish, gay, lesbian, working class, authors visiting the house. But – and > here is the point – when they visited, they visited *as such.* Not that > I was told as a child explicitly, but it was conveyed to me as a child, > somehow, that these folks belonged to a different category. And my > education, in Massachusetts, in the 40’s, was devoid of any explicit > contact with anybody in any of these categories. > > > > Ok, fast forward 70 years to Santa Fe. I befriend at Ohoris an extremely > tall black man, grizzled, slow moving, thoughtful, with an intricate, > international biography full of remarkable connections and coincidences. > He fits in every conceivable way my childhood stereotype of the “old wise > black man”. I sit in rapt attention to his stories. I look up to him, > which, given his height, is my only choice. But, as we continue to meet, a > tension begins to rise between us that is coming largely from me, but I > cannot control. He becomes aware that I am seeing him through the > stereotype of the old wise black man. Because I cannot admit to it, he is > imprisoned by it. *Our conversations are based on a lie.* He disappears > from Ohoris and I never see him again. He would rather eschew good coffee, > than live in my lie. > > > > This is what Donald Trump is truthful about. He tells the truth about his > own stereotypes. He is truthful about himself. That what he believes is > FALSE is irrelevant to his base. He admits to thoughts which they know > many others find distasteful. It is hard to live in a world which has > moved on from one’s childhood, a world in which others find one’s basic > categorizations distasteful – in fact, a world in which one finds one’s own > basic categorizations distasteful. > > > > To break Trump we need to come to a new understanding and acknowledgement > of type-isms. There are always going to be type-isms. We human beings do > that sort of thing. Raised in a particular way, at a particular time I see > a tall grizzled black man as wise, and everything he says and does is read > through that lens. That’s abduction. This person wears a dress, this > person is a woman, this person is gentle, that ‘s abduction. (Well, it’s > abduction-deduction, but let that go.) Human beings naturally form > identity groups that trap ourselves and others in false abductions. So we > need to design our society to counter these. (Libertarians beware. Here > come Nick’s white vans, again) In this case the white van takes the form > of aggressive taxation of the rich and aggressive education of the poor, > and of institutions that promote the random mixing of our citizens (like > public universities and armies – or conservation corps). > > > > Could my friendship with the tall black guy have been rescued? Could we > have laughed about my stereotypes? Perhaps I should have said, early on, > “Look, I’m sorry, I keep seeing you as Uncle Remus. I am sure, as I get > to know you better, I will get over it. Please be patient with me, and > please call me out whenever you feel confined by it. ” > > > > A Liberalism that does not free me is not worth the name. > > > > Nick > > Nicholas Thompson > > Emeritus Professor of Ethology and Psychology > > Clark University > > [email protected] > > https://wordpress.clarku.edu/nthompson/ > > > > > > > > - .... . -..-. . -. -.. -..-. .. ... -..-. .... . .-. . > > FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv > > Zoom Fridays 9:30a-12p Mtn GMT-6 bit.ly/virtualfriam > > un/subscribe http://redfish.com/mailman/listinfo/friam_redfish.com > > archives: http://friam.471366.n2.nabble.com/ > > FRIAM-COMIC http://friam-comic.blogspot.com/ > > - .... . -..-. . -. -.. -..-. .. ... -..-. .... . .-. . > FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv > Zoom Fridays 9:30a-12p Mtn GMT-6 bit.ly/virtualfriam > un/subscribe http://redfish.com/mailman/listinfo/friam_redfish.com > archives: http://friam.471366.n2.nabble.com/ > FRIAM-COMIC http://friam-comic.blogspot.com/ >
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