I think we can all agree that the GOP legislative staffer's comments on Malia and Sasha Obama's dress and behavior at the latest turkey pardoning ceremony were inappropriate and offensive. What I've found interesting, however, is how the remarks have not even been acknowledged by President and Mrs. Obama (and yes, she's not "Michelle," she's "Mrs. Obama." She will be the First Lady or a former First Lady for the rest of her life. If you didn't call Mrs. Reagan "Nancy" or Barbara Bush "Barbara," you don't call Mrs. Obama "Michelle.").
"Ah," I thought to myself. "Social vaporization."
What is "social vaporization," you ask?
It's the refusal to dignify the offensive actions of a person and, in many cases, the ignorant person who acted, by ignoring them and their act. Social vaporization to its fullest effect is treating the person who offended you like they don't exist.
There are some segments of our society that have made social vaporization a high art form. Too often, when someone does something that offends us, we engage in social jiu jitsu -- we attempt to use that person's offensive conduct to harm them. We deride the offender's conduct in their presence, try to correct the conduct, or inflict the same conduct upon the offender. We also give the offender what they want: Attention.
That's just way too much energy. Social vaporization is so much more efficient. To see social vaporization at its best, you need to be around old money Southerners. Of all races. They socially vaporize people by politely ignoring the conduct, removing themselves from the offender's presence with a polite excuse ("Could you excuse me for a moment? I need to say hello to a dear friend of mine across the room."), and, depending on the magnitude of the transgression, never making themselves available to be of help to, or in the presence of, the offender. They stop taking the offender's calls. They decline social invitations from the offender. And they do so without expending as much energy as it takes to wipe their behinds.
I've had to socially vaporize people. One was a house guest who made inappropriate comments about one of my family members shortly after I had experienced a death in my family. Said house guest has never stepped foot in my home since. Vaporized. I don't even expend energy thinking about relenting and having this person in my home. I made my Whitney Houston-inspired "Hell to the no" decision years ago. Poof. Vaporized.
I, too, have been socially vaporized. A lovely lady was trying to groom me for membership in The Links. I didn't realize it at the time, and with my sense of Delta superiority, I didn't think it mattered. I didn't respond appropriately to her overtures, didn't make it a priority to attend the right events. She socially vaporized me. I deserved it. I was not ready for what she was offering. And I learned to respect The Links.
But old money Southerners? Talk about social vaporization. They socially vaporize people so well that the people who are vaporized don't even know they've been vaporized. The vaporized simply think that the vaporizers are just busy, going through a difficult time, or overwhelmed with family obligations. In fact, vaporized folks often create excuses for those who vaporize them because they can't imagine that they have been socially vaporized. The vaporizers treat the vaporizees politely when encountered, but that's about it. Vaporizers don't explain. That would be an unmerited expenditure of energy for people who don't deserve it.
Why socially vaporize someone? Because they're probably not going to change, you can't raise them (because we all know you can't raise grown people), and it would raise your blood pressure to be continually assaulted by their inappropriate or insensitive behavior.
So how do you decide whether to socially vaporize someone? Ask yourself the following questions:
1) How offended was I by what the offender did? If the answer is "extremely," then ask yourself:
2) Do we even have a relationship? If the answer is "no," vaporize them. If the answer is "yes," ask yourself:
3) Is this a relationship worth saving? If not, vaporize them.
Vaporizing someone is like forgiving someone. Forgiving someone is giving up the hope that the past will ever be different. Socially vaporizing someone is giving up the hope that the offending person will ever cease to offend you.
May the force of social vaporization always be with you.
Another Generation of Second-Class Citizens (Ferguson and Lionel Ritchie on My Mind)
Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB) and I are jaded. Or rather, numb. We were not surprised by the grand jury verdict in the Michael Brown killing.
We both agreed that it was senseless to loot and burn the businesses of innocent business owners in Ferguson, especially if those businesses employed those in the community and/or were black-owned.
We both agreed that if Michael Brown had reached for the officer's gun, his fate was sealed, not because he may not have been justified in reaching for it, but because, once you do, your killing by a police officer becomes justifiable.
We initially disagreed about the way forward. Kind of.
"We have to teach our young men to be smarter," he said.
"Smarter?", I asked.
"Yes, smarter." BMNB explained that police officers act out of fear, specifically their fear of black men. The answer, he said, was to teach all our sons that police officers' fears can cause them to be killed and that, no matter what, there are certain things you as a black man can't say or do to a police officer and expect to live to tell about it.
"Damn," I said. "Do we have to raise yet another generation of second-class citizens? My dad grew up seeing black men lynched because they didn't address a white man the right way or they looked at a white woman too long. Your generation was raised not to run at night or make any sudden moves when stopped by the police. Black people have always had to raise our sons to expect to be treated as second-class citizens. Do we as black people have to raise yet another generation of second-class citizens?"
I hung my head. Then I remembered a story Lionel Ritchie told in an episode of Oprah Winfrey's "Master Class." He talked about growing up on the Tuskegee University (then Tuskegee Institute) campus and living in a racism-free bubble during segregation until he ventured off campus. He spoke of how when he was a child he drank from a white water fountain in town, and white men then started to threaten his dad. He just knew his dad was going to kick their behinds. His dad only told him, "Get in the car." Years later, he asked his dad why he hadn't stood up to those white men. His dad replied:
"Son, I had two choices that day. I could choose to be a man or I could choose to be your father. That day, I chose to be your father."
It made me realize that it isn't about being a second-class citizen. It's about having our young black men survive the experience and live to tell about it. If they don't live, they can't tell the tale of what happened to them. Only forensics and police officers put on the stand during their own grand jury hearings (WTH?) will tell the tale. And if young black men don't live to tell what happened to them, it can't be changed for the next generation of young black man.
"We need a protocol for all our young men to follow when they encounter the police. A protocol that we can all agree on, that's nationally recognized. I don't know if it's 'Hands up, don't shoot' or what, but we need a protocol that we all train our young black men to follow when they encounter the police. We need to teach that protocol in the churches and the schools."
"Then we need to train the police on that protocol," said BMNB. And then he said something that made me even more jaded:
"You know that every day there are black men who do all the right things when they encounter the police and still get killed, right?"
"Yes, I know." But we have to start somewhere.
#FeelingPowerless
#BlackLivesMatter
We both agreed that it was senseless to loot and burn the businesses of innocent business owners in Ferguson, especially if those businesses employed those in the community and/or were black-owned.
We both agreed that if Michael Brown had reached for the officer's gun, his fate was sealed, not because he may not have been justified in reaching for it, but because, once you do, your killing by a police officer becomes justifiable.
We initially disagreed about the way forward. Kind of.
"We have to teach our young men to be smarter," he said.
"Smarter?", I asked.
"Yes, smarter." BMNB explained that police officers act out of fear, specifically their fear of black men. The answer, he said, was to teach all our sons that police officers' fears can cause them to be killed and that, no matter what, there are certain things you as a black man can't say or do to a police officer and expect to live to tell about it.
"Damn," I said. "Do we have to raise yet another generation of second-class citizens? My dad grew up seeing black men lynched because they didn't address a white man the right way or they looked at a white woman too long. Your generation was raised not to run at night or make any sudden moves when stopped by the police. Black people have always had to raise our sons to expect to be treated as second-class citizens. Do we as black people have to raise yet another generation of second-class citizens?"
I hung my head. Then I remembered a story Lionel Ritchie told in an episode of Oprah Winfrey's "Master Class." He talked about growing up on the Tuskegee University (then Tuskegee Institute) campus and living in a racism-free bubble during segregation until he ventured off campus. He spoke of how when he was a child he drank from a white water fountain in town, and white men then started to threaten his dad. He just knew his dad was going to kick their behinds. His dad only told him, "Get in the car." Years later, he asked his dad why he hadn't stood up to those white men. His dad replied:
"Son, I had two choices that day. I could choose to be a man or I could choose to be your father. That day, I chose to be your father."
It made me realize that it isn't about being a second-class citizen. It's about having our young black men survive the experience and live to tell about it. If they don't live, they can't tell the tale of what happened to them. Only forensics and police officers put on the stand during their own grand jury hearings (WTH?) will tell the tale. And if young black men don't live to tell what happened to them, it can't be changed for the next generation of young black man.
"We need a protocol for all our young men to follow when they encounter the police. A protocol that we can all agree on, that's nationally recognized. I don't know if it's 'Hands up, don't shoot' or what, but we need a protocol that we all train our young black men to follow when they encounter the police. We need to teach that protocol in the churches and the schools."
"Then we need to train the police on that protocol," said BMNB. And then he said something that made me even more jaded:
"You know that every day there are black men who do all the right things when they encounter the police and still get killed, right?"
"Yes, I know." But we have to start somewhere.
#FeelingPowerless
#BlackLivesMatter
Don't Be a Volunteer for The Dysfunction Games (May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor)
Gentle Readers,
The holidays are upon us once again. Mockingjay, Part I will be opening on Thanksgiving. This gave me food for thought:
Don't be a volunteer for The Dysfunction Games this holiday season.
I read "The Hunger Games," the first of a trilogy by Suzanne Collins, but did not read the other two books. I read it for a neighborhood book club composed of mostly stay-at-home moms. We were planning to read both "The Hunger Games" and the second book, "Catching Fire." I couldn't get past "The Hunger Games." I was deeply disturbed by the idea of young people being chosen as "tributes" to kill other young people until only one was left standing. I was even more disturbed by the fact that this was considered a YA novel and was being assigned in our local schools.
The stay-at-home moms loved the books. I questioned their taste and never returned to the group.
If you've read "The Hunger Games" or saw the movie, you know the hunger games portrayed in the movie are rivaled in real life by what I would call The Dysfunction Games: The weird, awkward, and oftentimes offensive social interactions that occur during the holidays when families with dysfunctional behavior and unresolved issues try to socialize in spite of their behavior and issues.
Truth be told, many folks participating in The Dysfunction Games don't know they're dysfunctional. They have no filters, no sense of boundaries, and/or no manners. And they're totally unaware, bless their hearts. They're old enough to know better but too old to be raised better than they were. All you can do is pray for them. And avoid them.
Then there are the folks I would call "The Volunteers." Like the protagonist in "The Hunger Games," Katniss Everdeen, they volunteer to be all up in the game. Like Katniss, they know the game is wrong, evil, and offensive. Unlike Katniss, they go in thinking they can change the game, i.e., get dysfunctional people to behave like they're not dysfunctional or, even worse, to see the dysfunction of their ways.
Don't be a volunteer. You ain't Katniss Everdeen. Here's why.
Katniss volunteered for The Hunger Games for a higher purpose -- to keep her younger sister from being killed in the games -- and with an edge -- superior skills as an archer. Even if you have a higher purpose, i.e., to keep Aunt Mae-Mae from slapping the piss out of Cousin Mookie -- you probably don't have the superior skills necessary to make this work. Unless you're a psychiatrist, psychologist, licensed clinical social worker or counselor, you do not have the skills to succeed in The Dysfunction Games. You need to sit your behind on the bench and just watch.
However, the most important skill to have is to know when you're volunteering. Did someone actually ask you to intervene between Aunt Mae-Mae and Cousin Mookie? Even if you were asked, did you decline? If your answer to either of these questions is "no," you're a volunteer.
Don't be. It's only going to get worse. Inevitably, someone will get drunk and start telling all the family secrets about affairs and the questionable paternity of some of your relatives. Trust me, you ain't Katniss Everdeen. You do not have an edge in The Dysfunction Games.
Happy Holidays. May the odds be ever in your favor.
The holidays are upon us once again. Mockingjay, Part I will be opening on Thanksgiving. This gave me food for thought:
Don't be a volunteer for The Dysfunction Games this holiday season.
I read "The Hunger Games," the first of a trilogy by Suzanne Collins, but did not read the other two books. I read it for a neighborhood book club composed of mostly stay-at-home moms. We were planning to read both "The Hunger Games" and the second book, "Catching Fire." I couldn't get past "The Hunger Games." I was deeply disturbed by the idea of young people being chosen as "tributes" to kill other young people until only one was left standing. I was even more disturbed by the fact that this was considered a YA novel and was being assigned in our local schools.
The stay-at-home moms loved the books. I questioned their taste and never returned to the group.
If you've read "The Hunger Games" or saw the movie, you know the hunger games portrayed in the movie are rivaled in real life by what I would call The Dysfunction Games: The weird, awkward, and oftentimes offensive social interactions that occur during the holidays when families with dysfunctional behavior and unresolved issues try to socialize in spite of their behavior and issues.
Truth be told, many folks participating in The Dysfunction Games don't know they're dysfunctional. They have no filters, no sense of boundaries, and/or no manners. And they're totally unaware, bless their hearts. They're old enough to know better but too old to be raised better than they were. All you can do is pray for them. And avoid them.
Then there are the folks I would call "The Volunteers." Like the protagonist in "The Hunger Games," Katniss Everdeen, they volunteer to be all up in the game. Like Katniss, they know the game is wrong, evil, and offensive. Unlike Katniss, they go in thinking they can change the game, i.e., get dysfunctional people to behave like they're not dysfunctional or, even worse, to see the dysfunction of their ways.
Don't be a volunteer. You ain't Katniss Everdeen. Here's why.
Katniss volunteered for The Hunger Games for a higher purpose -- to keep her younger sister from being killed in the games -- and with an edge -- superior skills as an archer. Even if you have a higher purpose, i.e., to keep Aunt Mae-Mae from slapping the piss out of Cousin Mookie -- you probably don't have the superior skills necessary to make this work. Unless you're a psychiatrist, psychologist, licensed clinical social worker or counselor, you do not have the skills to succeed in The Dysfunction Games. You need to sit your behind on the bench and just watch.
However, the most important skill to have is to know when you're volunteering. Did someone actually ask you to intervene between Aunt Mae-Mae and Cousin Mookie? Even if you were asked, did you decline? If your answer to either of these questions is "no," you're a volunteer.
Don't be. It's only going to get worse. Inevitably, someone will get drunk and start telling all the family secrets about affairs and the questionable paternity of some of your relatives. Trust me, you ain't Katniss Everdeen. You do not have an edge in The Dysfunction Games.
Happy Holidays. May the odds be ever in your favor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)