As a white male, I don’t have to confront very many (if any) barriers to societal entry because of who I am. (Even my Catholic upbringing has been met with complete tolerance from Protestants and the random “And also with you” from fellow Catholics.) Short of whatever handicaps came with being a bit of a nerd in elementary and high school, I had to confront nothing on the level that Leah had to face.
When I look back at my childhood and adolescence, though, I realize that I haven’t seen much of what Leah describes in the people I know. It never appeared to me that my mom’s best friend had to face any difficulties as a black woman, and all the minority women I knew in high school didn’t encounter anything like Leah’s “cross-hatch” when I knew them. To be fair, I only significantly interacted with them within school, so if they met anything like that outside I never knew about it. (I found out about some things my male minority friends had to face, but that’s because I knew them outside of school.)
It might have just been that the conversation was never thought of as belonging in that space. Maybe we were too young to discuss it; maybe the Catholic part of “Catholic high school” pushed it to the side; maybe the environment was good enough that it didn’t need to be brought up, at least in discussions I could hear.
I doubt that, though. And after half a semester of this class, I wish those conversations had happened in the space I grew up in, both in high school and at home. Not as a result of the racial-sexual two strikes, but as part of something to deal with in real life. I'm glad I'm getting it now; I just wish I could have started earlier.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Women will rule. In public relations, at least.
It’s too early to tell, but it seems women will both lead and dominate the public relations industry. In a decade or two.
From what I read in the Aldoory and Toth study (Journal of Public Relations Research 14:2, 103), the 70% of jobs that women hold currently has to get at least one woman through the highest glass ceiling. The human capital school of thought, while not working at the moment, will provide correct predictions when women receive equal opportunities to develop their portfolios as men. With how many women there are right now, and given that they will be able to give women below them every available opportunity to develop, it should be possible.
This seems to have happened already at Hirons & Co. Women hold almost every job, including most of the highest spots in both their Indianapolis and Bloomington offices. In time (if it hasn’t happened already) they will be able to guarantee those development opportunities and acquire as much human capital as men have.
One question is why the public relations industry has had a lot of success with it. This plays more into the sex segregation perspective mentioned soon after the human capital view. According to Aldoory and Toth’s reckoning of the theory, “employers (men) permit women to enter fields that are no longer of interest to me or because women are assumed to have specific characteristics (stereotypes) that make them better at the tasks” (107). The relevant “stereotype” in this case would be women’s better social skills compared to men.
If this system were built on an ill-founded stereotype, the system in the public relations industry would eventually fall into itself in the lie. From what I’ve seen, however, that isn’t the case. I can’t say all women are like this (or that no men are like this), but I’ve found the majority of women in my life to be very diplomatic and communicative. There are exceptions on both sides, as there always will be; and this pattern found in public relations should be able to spread to other professions, as it likely has. As “[w]omen appear to move into different occupations at differing rates, rather than into all occupations generally” (107), public relations may have been a good profession to move to.
From what I read in the Aldoory and Toth study (Journal of Public Relations Research 14:2, 103), the 70% of jobs that women hold currently has to get at least one woman through the highest glass ceiling. The human capital school of thought, while not working at the moment, will provide correct predictions when women receive equal opportunities to develop their portfolios as men. With how many women there are right now, and given that they will be able to give women below them every available opportunity to develop, it should be possible.
This seems to have happened already at Hirons & Co. Women hold almost every job, including most of the highest spots in both their Indianapolis and Bloomington offices. In time (if it hasn’t happened already) they will be able to guarantee those development opportunities and acquire as much human capital as men have.
One question is why the public relations industry has had a lot of success with it. This plays more into the sex segregation perspective mentioned soon after the human capital view. According to Aldoory and Toth’s reckoning of the theory, “employers (men) permit women to enter fields that are no longer of interest to me or because women are assumed to have specific characteristics (stereotypes) that make them better at the tasks” (107). The relevant “stereotype” in this case would be women’s better social skills compared to men.
If this system were built on an ill-founded stereotype, the system in the public relations industry would eventually fall into itself in the lie. From what I’ve seen, however, that isn’t the case. I can’t say all women are like this (or that no men are like this), but I’ve found the majority of women in my life to be very diplomatic and communicative. There are exceptions on both sides, as there always will be; and this pattern found in public relations should be able to spread to other professions, as it likely has. As “[w]omen appear to move into different occupations at differing rates, rather than into all occupations generally” (107), public relations may have been a good profession to move to.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Ron Artest turned out okay.
I was a huge fan of the Indiana Pacers when I was younger. I wasn't as big of a fan as my brother, but I still shared in the obsession, wearing a Reggie Miller jersey a lot and calling into the Indianapolis-Marion County Public Library to get the latest Pacer phone biography. (My brother and I would put that on speakerphone and listen to that over a lunch of baloney and cheese. Yes, we were that cool.) When the Pacers beat the Chicago Bulls in Michael Jordan's first return, I celebrated; when they made the NBA Finals in 2000, I bought a "mistake" shirt that claimed they won the Finals; and when Reggie retired, I cried. (And I still get a little teary every time I watch that video. I do the same at the end of Apollo 13.)
Then came The Brawl. The Malice at the Palace of Auburn Hills, coupled with Reggie's retirement at the end of the offending season, is firmly marked in my mind as the turning point in my Pacers fandom. After years of following the team's every move (I still recall the random statistic and keep a framed Reggie card), I simply stopped watching. I didn't want to follow a team that, to me, was going downhill. Besides, in my 16-year-old mind, I had more important and less morally ambiguous things to do, like watch the Indianapolis Colts.
And although Stephen Jackson played a large role in the brawl as well, I reserved my highest disdain for its second protagonist, Ron Artest. As he moved from the Pacers to the Sacramento Kings, Houston Rockets, and Los Angeles Lakers, I blamed him for ruining my fandom. Combined with his constant self-promotion, I wrote him off as someone unforgivable.
Artest drifted out of my consciousness for a while, until he won an NBA championship with the Lakers. His post-game interview, where he thanked his psychiatrist among others, brought him back into my good graces. He was frank about himself, he didn't gloat (like he had been known to do), and he seemed like a better person than he did in 2004. I'm not immaturely mad at him anymore.
This whole process had nothing to do with race. I'm not gonna make the Stephen Colbert claim that I'm completely color-blind, and subconscious judging may have pushed me toward blanket condemnation of Artest, but I never saw race as a compelling variable as this happened. I like to think that I would have thought the same thing if, say, Rik Smits had punched a fan. (And look at my adulation of Reggie.)
I guess that's the point I'm trying to make here. Artest may have influenced the black stereotype in the NBA for a lot of people, but not for me.
Then came The Brawl. The Malice at the Palace of Auburn Hills, coupled with Reggie's retirement at the end of the offending season, is firmly marked in my mind as the turning point in my Pacers fandom. After years of following the team's every move (I still recall the random statistic and keep a framed Reggie card), I simply stopped watching. I didn't want to follow a team that, to me, was going downhill. Besides, in my 16-year-old mind, I had more important and less morally ambiguous things to do, like watch the Indianapolis Colts.
And although Stephen Jackson played a large role in the brawl as well, I reserved my highest disdain for its second protagonist, Ron Artest. As he moved from the Pacers to the Sacramento Kings, Houston Rockets, and Los Angeles Lakers, I blamed him for ruining my fandom. Combined with his constant self-promotion, I wrote him off as someone unforgivable.
Artest drifted out of my consciousness for a while, until he won an NBA championship with the Lakers. His post-game interview, where he thanked his psychiatrist among others, brought him back into my good graces. He was frank about himself, he didn't gloat (like he had been known to do), and he seemed like a better person than he did in 2004. I'm not immaturely mad at him anymore.
This whole process had nothing to do with race. I'm not gonna make the Stephen Colbert claim that I'm completely color-blind, and subconscious judging may have pushed me toward blanket condemnation of Artest, but I never saw race as a compelling variable as this happened. I like to think that I would have thought the same thing if, say, Rik Smits had punched a fan. (And look at my adulation of Reggie.)
I guess that's the point I'm trying to make here. Artest may have influenced the black stereotype in the NBA for a lot of people, but not for me.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Antonio Banderas is not from Mexico. (And Shakira isn't from Spain.)
When one of Wednesday's groups began with a quiz on Latino actors and comedians, I thought to myself, "Haha! I'm gonna get more right than other people! Penelope Cruz is SO gonna trip them up!"
See, I had studied in Madrid last spring, absorbing everything I could about the culture. The biggest people-oriented thing I noticed was how many Spaniards had made it into American popular culture. Not only are there big sports stars (Rafael Nadal, Pau Gasol, Alberto Contador, the World Cup champion soccer team), but actors such as Antonio Banderas, Penelope Cruz, and Emilio Estevez. (And Spaniards love it.)
When I thought about it over there, I realized popular Spaniards in America have it both good and bad. The good is that they look European. They blend in well enough skin-wise to not raise many eyebrows or attract many lawncare-worker stereotypes (although the possibility is well known there). Some assimilate into the culture so well (I'm looking at you, Martin Sheen) that they don't seem any different at all and are not given any flak because of it.
The bad is that they still have a stereotype. Spaniards, when called out as Spaniards, are usually associated with the same fiery passion and lazy work ethic that Latinos often garner. Coupled with a penchant for bullfighting and the deep traditions that still permeate the country, Spaniards often get a too-romantic and insufficiently modern reputation. (The high-quality work that Almodóvar and Spanish doctors do counteract that, to an extent.)
The lumping-together of Spanish and Hispanic often results in some confusion as to where Spaniard Americans come from. Hence, I was proud to know where all the people listed above originated, and I was confident about the quiz at the start of the presentation.
Apparently, I overgeneralized. Shakira is from Colombia, for example. It's not Mexico (the default choice for many), but it's also not Spain (my default choice, judging by... how white she is). Thus, I cannot ever claim to be above Latino pre-judging, even if my variety goes in the opposite direction.
Main lesson: Everyone assumes. It doesn't matter whether you think that Penelope Cruz is Hispanic or Shakira is Iberian; they're both incorrect assumptions. I'll try to work on that.
See, I had studied in Madrid last spring, absorbing everything I could about the culture. The biggest people-oriented thing I noticed was how many Spaniards had made it into American popular culture. Not only are there big sports stars (Rafael Nadal, Pau Gasol, Alberto Contador, the World Cup champion soccer team), but actors such as Antonio Banderas, Penelope Cruz, and Emilio Estevez. (And Spaniards love it.)
When I thought about it over there, I realized popular Spaniards in America have it both good and bad. The good is that they look European. They blend in well enough skin-wise to not raise many eyebrows or attract many lawncare-worker stereotypes (although the possibility is well known there). Some assimilate into the culture so well (I'm looking at you, Martin Sheen) that they don't seem any different at all and are not given any flak because of it.
The bad is that they still have a stereotype. Spaniards, when called out as Spaniards, are usually associated with the same fiery passion and lazy work ethic that Latinos often garner. Coupled with a penchant for bullfighting and the deep traditions that still permeate the country, Spaniards often get a too-romantic and insufficiently modern reputation. (The high-quality work that Almodóvar and Spanish doctors do counteract that, to an extent.)
The lumping-together of Spanish and Hispanic often results in some confusion as to where Spaniard Americans come from. Hence, I was proud to know where all the people listed above originated, and I was confident about the quiz at the start of the presentation.
Apparently, I overgeneralized. Shakira is from Colombia, for example. It's not Mexico (the default choice for many), but it's also not Spain (my default choice, judging by... how white she is). Thus, I cannot ever claim to be above Latino pre-judging, even if my variety goes in the opposite direction.
Main lesson: Everyone assumes. It doesn't matter whether you think that Penelope Cruz is Hispanic or Shakira is Iberian; they're both incorrect assumptions. I'll try to work on that.
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