Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts
Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts

Sunday, 29 November 2009

The campaign for racism...

Around 1,000 people set off on a march against racism in Glasgow today and yesterday. Their cause was vocally supported by a plethora of politicos - Alex Salmond, Gordon Brown, Jim Murphy, Annabel Goldie, Tavish Scott, Patrick Harvie and Grahame Smith (to name a few) - all eager to ensure that they are not branded with the politically suicidal ‘R-word’.

Racism is, of course, deplorable and must be dealt with in any free-thinking society, not just to benefit any specific minority (ethnic or otherwise) but for the good of the whole populace. However, a lot of white middle-class people are actively publicising how ‘not-racist’ they are, without really understanding what the racism they are so adamantly against is.

When I speak of a lack of understanding, I include myself in this group. I don’t feel like a racist, but I have a sneaky suspicion that I might be, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to tell. I am vehemently against discriminating against any person because of heritable characteristics, culture, religion, background, place of birth or any other taxonomic concept of race, but I find casual racism is rarely a simple case of black and white.

When the media create a new celebrity racist, I find myself often wondering if racism is really the underlying cause. The whole furore surrounding some of the more notable wacky racists (like
Jade Goody, Carol Thatcher and Anton du Beke) left me feeling, well...nothing. I found it difficult to believe that they were being genuinely racist, more ill educated, ill informed, and ill mannered than jackboot wearing xenophobes...

While alive, Saint Jade Goody was way down at the ore-ish end of the animal-vegetable-mineral scale and, as such, her comments can quite easily be considered stupid and ignorant, but racist? I’m not so sure... Carol Thatcher is a product of a different generation, many kids of a certain age grew-up with Robertson’s jams and had ‘Golliwog’ toys and, despite the term having been a racial slur for about 60-years, I don’t really believe that many people of a similar vantage and vintage think of a ‘Golly’ without their brain adding a silent letter ‘wog’ at the end. Most chose to keep it safely tucked away in their heads, but the white moral outrage smacks a bit of ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks’, either that or an excuse to tar Carol with the same ‘evil-bitch’ brush as her mummy. As for Anton du Beke, his problem is even easier to understand – he’s a cunt.

No matter what progress is made towards societal harmony, terms of abuse will never go away. You will always have people pointing out obvious differences and using it to insult and hurt, whether it’s paki and nigger, muzzie and yid, or even specky and fatty. I believe the terms themselves are not important, it’s the intent behind it that causes the wounds. But, of course, the words then take on a life of their own and signify all the hate, spite and fear of the original intent. Simply pointing a difference is not a slur, but the inference that this makes them inferior is.

The problem now is knowing when a seemingly innocuous word could be misconstrued. I don’t mean the big, scary, obvious ones, but the more everyday words that can get confused in the context.

My social group (friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances, etc) includes a wonderfully diverse bunch of people, with equally diverse backgrounds, cultures, religions and skin colour. Those who chose to spend time with me tend (by necessity or otherwise) to have a bit of a sense of humour, and, if you have read any of my blogs before, you will probably realise that this can tend towards the...
black.

I have thoroughly enjoyed watching colleagues torture themselves while trying to describe someone they don’t know to a black co-worker, describing their sex, age, height, build, hair colour, facial features, clothing and so on, desperately wanting to point out the big black guy without at any point mentioning that the subject of their mental gymnastics is in fact a ‘big black guy’:


White guy: “Someone was looking for you while you were away from your desk”
Black guy: “Who was it?”
White guy: “I don’t know their name”
Black guy: “Can you describe them?”
White guy: Thought: “AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! Why the fuck did I open my mouth?”
White guy: “It was a guy, I’ve seen you talking to him before”
Black guy: “What does he look like?”
White guy: Thought: “fuck, Fuck, FUCK!!!”
White guy: “He’s tall and quite big built”
Black guy: “...no, don’t know who you mean...”
White guy: “He’s got a mustache”
Black guy: “...nope, still don’t know...”
White guy: “Black curly hair, brown eyes...”
White guy: Thought: “Shit! I said black! Was that racist? Oh, please don’t let him think I’m racist”
Black guy: “...did they have any distinguishing features that might help?”
White guy: Thought: “If I say the big black guy with the foot-long afro he’ll think I’m a racist, what the hell else can I point out?”
White guy: “Nah. Sorry, mate. Hopefully, he’ll come back again later...”

Being a not particularly PC kind of guy, I admit I like to say things amongst the people who know me that will create an effect, whether it’s casual swearing, sarcasm or generally being offensive, my puerile little brain enjoys the ‘laugh followed by tut’ or ‘teeth sucking’ that invariably follows.

I call an esteemed co-conspirator a nigger and in return he calls me a
honky,(actually while he does often call me a honky, he more usually just calls me a cunt, but we both know that it’s meant with a great pulsating affection). There is a back story to all this that can be enjoyed fully here, but suffice to say, I would never think about using a racial slur towards anyone else, and I would be beyond anger if I ever heard anyone else calling him this, or any other, racial epithet. The context, the history, and crucially, the intent is important. We have a shorthand that is mutually agreed, and anyway, he’s my nigger...

(...wait’s for the tutting and tooth sucking.... yup, there it is...! Nice!)

I don’t believe that there is an excuse for racism other than ignorance, but between consenting adults of any creed, colour or ethnicity, casual racism can be socially and if the parties are happy with the shorthand, and the intent is to bond rather than to hurt, it can even be a good thing.

While we shy away from recognising that there are obvious differences between people, we also shy away from accepting and celebrating the important similarities. We are missing out on an opportunity to enjoy having a great multicultural society. We are not all the same, but who wants a homogeneous McCulture? These same differences can make for a stronger, healthier society.

We seem to focus more on educating people against using the words themselves, and less on educating people not to feel the intent. If we work towards removing the hate and harm behind the words, perhaps we can get back to black being just a colour.

Saturday, 16 May 2009

Social networking saves the world...

It’s funny. Despite being the vitriol filled sod that I am, I have never really had any problem with the idea of social networking. I suppose this is mostly because it used to be so easy to ignore, it seldom crossed into mainstream media and the exceptions tended towards the exceptional - the occasional celeb crying for help while being stuck in a lift (a la Stephen Fry) or someone sharing their nervous breakdown (a la too many to list).

The tide of banality appears to have turned.

Most of us started by reinventing ourselves with a brief profile on Friends Reunited, however, this was too limited in its scope. Few of us used it to do much more than cry for the nostalgia of the past with people we knew at school or college. For me, this meant having a look to see who was continuing to shine with the promise of mediocrity that was shown ‘back in the day’. But Friends United lied to me. The people on were not my friends - separated or otherwise. If they were my friends we wouldn’t have lost touch, we would have made the effort because we wanted to be BFFs. They were an accident, they were flotsam, they were convenient acquaintances due to location and access, but mostly they were not my friends.

Although a large number of social networking sites popped up at around the same time, MySpace seemed to be de rigueur for a while. Not only did I now have access to keep up with all my old not-friends, I can chose to become “friends” with new virtual people (or “friends”) I have never heard of! This was revolutionary...

I could soon chose between a whole host of service options to enable me to not really engage with my “friends” – MySpace was joined in the list by Bebo and Facebook which really took this disengagement to a new level. I could now look at photographs of the lives of my not-friends, I could listen to their music, I could contribute comments to their musings, I could wish them belated happy birthdays and coo over their children and admire their cats, and I could feel the growing pains of their virtual angst.

But by far the most important thing was that I could do all of this whilst naked in front of my computer and in the comfort of my own home. I could still be a part of a community of real people without all that pesky physical interaction where I would have to look into their eyes, laugh with them (other than LOL and LMAO), touch them, smell their body odour, read their body language, insult them, be insulted by them and generally touch lives with them.

And then, whole new level of non interaction... I can further streamline my non- communication with all of my non-friends, I can follow people without being accused of stalking, I can even have followers (praise Lord SpiderBoz), I can tell the whole virtual world my deepest, darkest thoughts – as long as it’s done in 140 characters or less. Good god, I can Tweet...!

Twitter just makes the whole process of not communicating even easier, I barely have to think and I can tell the virtual world all about what I’m not thinking... Wow! How did I cope when I had to make an effort to try to like people, or to make an effort to love or hate people, or even to leave my house.

Bring the virtual revolution on. I can’t wait to see less of the ones I love, I can’t wait to further isolate my life whilst keeping it open to the world, I can’t wait to not meet new and interesting people and not interact with the world around me. Bring it on...

Actually, no. I'm going out. I feel the need to see someone real...